The Dead

did you ever realize that? And not symbolically, as it turns out! How deliciously filthy! I wish I could’ve been there.

“Anyway, He gives Legion little tips from time to time. Like telling him where he could find your group, back in the junction.”

“God speaks to Legion?”

“To all His creatures. In Legion’s case, He needed to point him in the right direction. Legion’s not omniscient. Not in the flesh, at any rate. He can be distracted. He can only sniff you out if he’s very close. And you’re right on the edge. Or just over it.”

“Edge of what?”

“Damnation. He can even read your mind then. But that isn’t how he pinpoints you. There’s a kind of stench. Your soul gives it off. It’s like gangrene, drawing flies. It only smells while you’re alive. And for a short time afterward. But once you’re dead a good long while, it doesn’t matter. So he doesn’t really need to find you then. Unless he needs recruits. “

“And God helps him?”

“For reasons of His own, of course. Intrigue’s His forte, it turns out…He tells Legion just what He wants him to know. Sometimes that fouls things up very badly for us. But sometimes they turn out very nicely indeed.”

“Us?”

“The opposition,” Father Ted answered. “Things don’t always come out the way He plans. He’d deny it, of course. But He did insist on giving us free will, after all. Big mistake. “

“What are you?” Father Chuck asked tremblingly.

“Your old friend and mentor,” Father Ted answered. “More myself than I’ve ever been, accidents gone, essence retained. I’m Father Ted, returned from the grave. I will tell you all.”

“You’re not!” Father Chuck answered.

“What then? Something more? Demonic, perhaps? Would that it were true. But there are things more than human about. Legion’s one, as even you must’ve guessed. The Biblical Legion, if you can believe it. A real celebrity. Gadarene swine, and all that-it seems it wasn’t just schizophrenia after all!

“In any case, he’s running the show here on Earth. And as the name suggests, there are actually quite a few of him. On this plane, at any rate. Where he comes from, numerical questions don’t have cut-and-dried answers. Matter can only accommodate him as one being. Or as a legion. But that makes it easy to coordinate things between, let’s say, Bayside Shores and Salt Lake City.”

Father Ted slipped his hand over one of the bars, tugged at it. “Strong. Is there any way to open this thing? I’d really like to come in, talk to you face-to-face. This is too reminiscent of the confessional.”

“Go away,”Father Chuck whispered. “In the name of Christ…”

“You know, when that name’s invoked by the right sort of man, it can have a powerful effect. But you’re not that sort, are you? So why don’t you just open the grate?”

“We can’t. Go away.”

“Not until we’ve talked some more. I have an offer for you. “

“What?” Father Chuck breathed.

“We need priests. There’s a new church starting. Big demand for the Eucharist. If you’ll just give yourself up, we’ll make it easy on you. Translate you painlessly. You can be one of us. One of the elite.”

“Never,” Father Chuck said.

“Never’s a very long time-and we’re going to get you sooner or later. But you shouldn’t get up on your high horse in any case. Sounding so adamant doesn’t become you. You were always one of us.”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t lose your temper!” Father Ted laughed. “It’s really not so bad, seeing yourself for what you really are. It’s like being born again, if you’ll excuse the Protestantism. Once I was washed in the blood-my own, of course-I simply realized what side I was on. Just as you will.”

“Father Chuck,” Dennis said, “I don’t hear them down at the other end anymore. Maybe we can just get the hell out of here. “

“You can’t get the hell out of here,” Father Ted put in. “This is Hell. Or at least as much of it as flesh can perceive. They’ll be waiting for you back there anyway. So why don’t you just stay right where you are?” He began tugging on the bars. “I should be through these in a minute or two.”

“Damn you!” Father Chuck cried.

“Why, Chuck,” the corpse laughed, “you know perfectly well I’m already damned. Just like you. What was the verdict in your dream? Or have you deliberately forgotten?” With a powerful jerk, Father Ted managed to bend two of the bars outward.

Loosing a low cry, Father Chuck moved past Dennis and rammed his shoe against the corpse’s gripping fingers.

“Do that again,” Father Ted said paternally, still tugging away, “and you’re going to be very sorry.”

“Come on, Father,” Dennis said, plucking at Father Chuck, but the priest only kicked at Father Ted’s hand again.

“Well,” Father Ted went on, never slackening in his efforts, “if you won’t think of yourself, at least think of me. This was a special mission for me. Legion even gave me my old voice back. You should hear how I sound the other way, with my face like this…He’s going to be very angry…”

“You bastard!” Father Chuck screamed. “You’re the reason I’m here! You and all your damned lies!”

“That was Max Holland’s attitude,” Father Ted said, snapping one of the bars. “But he’s reconciled to me now. We’re both pulling for the same team. As for you and me, we’re going to have a splendid time.”

“Father, dammit, let’s go!” Dennis cried, just as the corpse pried another bar loose.

Father Chuck nodded and turned. They headed back up the pipe as fast as they could.

“You’re not going to make it!” Father Ted called after them. “If the boys at the other end don’t get you, I will!”

As if to emphasize his point, there was another ringing crack of torn metal.

Head aching furiously, Max woke.

He was above ground. There was still some daylight.

Tied to a chair with baling wire, he sat in the middle of a street. Lying in front of him was Mr. MacAleer, bound with wire, on his stomach and naked from the waist down. His face was turned toward Max; he seemed unconscious,

Dozens of corpses stood near. The bone wolves paced in and out among them as if impatient to be off on the hunt.

Off in the distance, he could see a huge shape looming up above the dead. The same scorched color as the bonewolves, it looked like some sort of midden raised on pillar-like legs. It swayed slightly, protruding spikes shifting and bristling on its surface.

More bones, Max thought. Had the wolves been made from pieces of it?

“Max!” came Legion’s voice, on his left. “You’re awake. Won’t have to use the smelling salts. On you, that is.”

Legion moved past him, crouched by MacAleer and crunched a white capsule by his nose. MacAleer’s face twisted. His eyelids fluttered, snapped open.

“Just couldn’t bring yourself to go back for this piece of shit, huh, Max?” Legion asked. “Can’t say I blame you. Wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Not for him.”

MacAleer groaned, eyes still glazed. Legion signaled. A corpse strode up carrying a can of gasoline. Max gasped with recognition.

The corpse met his gaze briefly-then turned its head.

“Dad,” Max said.

“Yep,” Legion said, rising. “Dear old dad.”

Max Sr. opened the container.