Marty looked up and around, spotting Jocelyn’s apparition, naked and charred and almost all black with some red and pink patches, looking over both bodies, making the sign of the cross.
“Yes,” Marty answered, “he’s alive—for now . . . Are you going to be okay?”
She turned and smiled at him. <I’m not sure, but I just came back from the dead, so that’s a good sign . . . Where’s my sword?>
There was nothing Jocelyn could do for Alexander or Clarence (or Marty, who didn’t look so hot), but she could assess how difficult it would be to retrieve her sword. She Willed her projection to appear near it, but instead of finding herself in the store’s break room, she saw Brooke, speed-walking by the river behind the strip mall, carrying the sword behind her back in its shoulder holster.
Jocelyn followed her cord back to her body.
<Marty, hand me your assault rifle.>
Marty unholstered the assault weapon, still intact, despite being struck by the heavy beam, and handed it to her apparition. Marty realized that the guns may have distributed and cushioned the blow to his back.
<Not my apparition. My body.>
“Huh?”
<Place the weapon in the hands of my body. I’m not sure how all this astral projection works, but I think that whatever I’m carrying or wearing appears with my apparition.>
“Oh, I see. But what do you—”
<I’ll explain later. Please put the rifle in my hands, aimed straight ahead.>
Marty, bewildered by this development, trusted Jocelyn that she knew what she was doing. He placed his M4 in her hands, one hand on the magazine, the other on the trigger, with the barrel pointed upwards. The M4 appeared in the hands of her projection, as Jocelyn said it might.
“Is that good enough?”
Jocelyn nodded. <Thanks Marty, I’ll take it from here.>
Her apparition disappeared.
Jocelyn Willed herself fifty feet to the south of the sword, and as expected, Brooke was carrying it and walking fast toward Jocelyn on a trail by the river.
<My rifle is aimed at you.>
Brooke’s eyes got wide as she beheld Jocelyn.
“Oh, my god, you’re alive!” Brooke regarded her for a few seconds. “Burned all over but still in front of me.” She looked around. “Were you waiting for me behind that tree? How did you find me?”
<As you can see, Ollie was right—I am a witch.>
Brooke sighed. “I suppose you want your sword back.”
<Place it on the ground. That, and the assault rifle.>
Brooke complied. “Your lips are moving, but I can’t hear you. Well, I can hear you in my head, sort of. What kinda trick are you pulling?”
<I have the power to teleport, and I can put thoughts in your mind. I decided this would be more intimidating.>
“Sheesh, you got that right. So, what now, you gonna kill me? A cat playing with the mouse?”
<No, I won’t kill you. Were you aware men in your gang tried to rape me?>
“You’re lying.”
<Why would I lie? Who was protecting you?>
Brooke scowled. “Those men are a lot of things, but they are not rapists.”
<A zombie apocalypse can bring out the worst in all of us.>
“Like using zombies to attack us.”
<I don’t regret doing that, but a week ago I wouldn’t have been capable of it, it’s true. So, where will you go now?>
Jocelyn was starting to feel sorry for Brooke, despite the fact that Brooke had killed her. Jocelyn believed her when she said she knew nothing about the attempted rape. Perhaps Ollie had protected her from the others? It made sense since he was the leader and she was his lover.
“I hadn’t figured that out yet. I can go back to our ranch; we were here on assignment, but the ranch is far away, and the town is now crawling with zombies. I don’t believe I can survive the trip all by myself. Even if you let me keep the assault rifle, which doesn’t work by the way, it’s useless against them.”
Jocelyn considered this. They weren’t very far from the store; a walk back to her body would take five minutes, tops.
<I’ll walk you back to the market. Maybe the military can escort you back to your ranch. Leave the sword and the rifle here. I’ll get someone to retrieve them later.>
“The military?”
<It’s a long story. I suspect they won’t want you going with them, but they probably don’t want to be responsible for your death, either. I can put in a good word for you.>
“So you’re just going to leave the sword behind? On the ground?”
<I don’t want to let my guard down with you. Now get moving before I decide to put you out of your misery. Turn around and keep moving and don’t look back.>
The smoke billowed into the sky, drifting with the wind, as the Beaver Park Market burned. Close to the building, out on the asphalt, Captain Francis Davies and the other soldiers continued to give Clarence CPR, and Jocelyn felt weaker, magically, as time wore on. Her instincts told her that both healing and astral projection drained her of magical energy—energy she was running out of, and she needed some reserve to complete the healing. Being in her Inner Temple, seeing outside her body, also required energy.
It was agonizing to witness Clarence being worked on without being able to lift a finger to help. She felt as helpless as when she had witnessed her grandfather dying. She would relive that all over again unless Clarence pulled through.
A soldier with a name tag that read “CORPORAL TERRY DORMAN” filled Jocelyn in on the fate of the other survivalists.
<Francis, could you get someone to retrieve my sword for me? It’s lying on the ground a quarter mile up the river road.>
“I don’t believe we can. I’d be afraid of another zombie attack. Hell, I’m afraid . . . well, let’s just say I’d pack up and leave right now if we weren’t trying to save Clarence’s life.”
<Speak with Marty, the sheriff. He’ll tell you how important the sword is.>
Francis looked
