<How much time before? . . . >
“Before we give up?” Francis looked weary.
<Yes.>
Another deep breath. “About another half hour. The new guidelines say there’s no real hope for recovery after forty-five minutes. But we’ll give it an hour. The guidelines have been wrong before.”
<I don’t think I have that much time. I must go back into my body.>
Francis looked at her like he didn’t want to deal with her anymore. But he did.
“I’ll need a statement from you before you go.”
<A statement? Why?>
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. He wasn’t convincing, probably too tired to fake emotions. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared downwards, averting his eyes.
Was he scared of her?
The soldiers stood upwind from the burning pyre of dead bodies. She was grateful she had no sense of smell in her current state. Some men were staring at her, bug-eyed and pale. Others kept looking at her briefly, then nervously looking away. She believed they were all scared of her. Could she blame them?
“I just need your side of the story.”
<My side? Look at me!>
“It’s a formality, I assure you. I need to have it for when I take you into Peterson Air Force Base.”
You mean if you take me to Peterson Air Force Base. He wasn’t reassuring at all, but she understood his consternation. She had attacked the survivalists with draugar. One had said he would rape her, but he hadn’t tried very hard, had he? And the survivalists could spin it that she attacked them with draugar twice.
Add in her capabilities, and, to Francis, she must seem downright dangerous. Thank the Lord he was not aware of her psychosis. Or was he? What had Alexander and Marty told him? They had had enough sense to not tell the others in their group before, but had they told him?
And how long had it been since she last took some haloperidol?
She realized she had so much to tell him, but she had precious little time.
<I’m useful to you. I’m immune, with the healing powers of a zombie, in addition to the astral projection. My goal is to be a human guinea pig for experiments that might lead to a cure. You can ask Marty details about that. And the survivalists tried to rape me.>
“Oh? Did anyone see the attempt?”
<No one alive.>
“You know the other survivalists will claim they knew nothing about it, that they would have stopped and condemned such an attack if they had been there and if it occurred. Survivalists, in general, aren’t evil. Some people are, some people aren’t, regardless of what group they belong to. You can’t paint all survivalists, even those in the same group, equivalent to the evil ones.”
Jocelyn looked over at Ollie, still held at gunpoint with no restraints. She reasoned they didn’t have any with them, that they weren’t planning on being on a mission where they would take prisoners.
<Okay, well my side is they tried to rape me, and then they killed me and took my sword. But my healing brought me back to life, and since I can control zombies—another of my zombie-like abilities—I used them to attack the survivalists as a distraction to get my sword. Then they killed me again and tried burning me to a crisp to keep me dead. They almost succeeded.>
“So you admit attacking them?”
<Did you hear me? They tried to rape me and killed me. I believe I was justified in retrieving my sword, which Marty can fill you in on. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have little time left.>
That conversation disturbed Jocelyn. She wished she could have explained more to Francis, but she needed time to talk with Marty to make sure he defended her.
<Hello, Marty.>
Marty jumped, startled. “Jesus, Jocelyn, you scared the crap out of me.”
<You need to protect my body, especially my head. I’m sure Ollie made a tactical error—he should have cut my head off.>
Marty shook his head. “I’ll do what I can before I leave here. I wasn’t planning to go back with the others to Peterson Air Force Base. Corporal Dorman and I always planned to stay outside the base and search for my son and his family. His family lives in Beaver Park, so we expect to find them nearby. We were given tranquilizer guns, hoping to subdue my son or his family, if they are zombies.” Marty pointed at the SUV parked on the other side of the pyre. “The tranquilizer we planned to use is in the other SUV. We can’t stay unless they allow us to go back there. So I’m not sure what we’ll do.”
<Okay, well, let’s say you save your son and Dorman’s family. Say they are all zombies. What will you do with them then? Will Peterson take them?>
“They’ve said they won’t, but I’m hoping they will reconsider once we show up on their doorstep.”
<Remember I told you I can control a small group of zombies?>
Marty nodded. “Right. That was how you attacked the survivalists.”
<If you show up at Peterson with your son or Dorman’s family, and I’m there, maybe I can control them. But I can’t promise anything.>
He nodded. “The way things are now, I don’t see how anyone can. Okay, I’ll hang around enough to fill Francis in on how important you are.”
<And the sword, please.>
“And the sword.”
<One more thing. Clarence has a safe room nearby.> She gave him the address. <I don’t think Clarence will be using it anymore. I’m sure he’d want you to use it as a base of operations.> Jocelyn suddenly became sluggish in her thoughts. <It’s time I returned to my body. Goodbye, Sheriff Marty Hill. It’s been an honor and a pleasure.>
“The honor and pleasure are all mine, Jocelyn Radomski.”
And
