 
Dead Enough

By: Shana Saban

Copyright 2018 Shana Saban

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

About Shana Saban

Other Titles by Shana Saban

Connect with Shana Saban
Premise

Zoe doesn't have much of an afterlife. The only thing that's changed since the day she was shot and killed in a convenience store robbery is the number of holes in her chest, up from zero to one. She still attends her regular haunts, sends emails to her devastated and confused friends, and spends the rest of the time at her "grandparents" house avoiding being sat in by the cat. All that changes when Saul, her afterlife tech support guy, recruits her on a dangerous mission to search out and defeat a lost spirit bent on ending the world. On the way she encounters Death (literally), meets Saint Peter (Pete to his friends), forms strange alliances, and comes face to face with other ghosts that range from downright evil to inconveniently confused. A self-admitted slacker holds the key to preventing the apocalypse and saving her own soul in the process. And she thought the cat thing was a problem....

Dedicated to my sister, Angela

Because she told me I had to.

And also, she's awesome.

Acknowledgements

I have the most amazing family in the world. Think about how awesome your family is. Unless they're not. Then think about how awesome the _Full House_ family is. Then turn the volume up to 11. That's how awesome my family is. They gave me the confidence to think that I might actually be able to write a little something one day. Then my sister gave me an idea and told me I _had_ to write it for her. No choice. No say. Oh, and then she told me I _had_ to dedicate it to her as well. So I did. And I did.

My sister, husband, parents, parents-in-law, uncles, aunts, first cousins, third cousins twice removed, they all told me, "You should write." So I did. Eventually. Because I always do what I'm told. Eventually.

Then there is the person who isn't family, but might as well be. My best friend, my soul's best friend, Shanna. She dragged me to writer's groups. She called me to make sure I was toiling away on my novel. If she found out I wasn't, she said things like, "Woman!" (Her pet name for me) "If you don't write, how are you ever going to _write_?" She's got a way with words. She's a writer, too. She offered advice when I needed it, inspiration when I needed it, editing help when I needed it and an occasional kick in the pants. (Come to think of it, that part was just rude, because of course I never needed that!)

Speaking of writer's groups (I did. Up there. Are you paying attention?), a big shout out to The Writer's Critique in Fort Worth. They are still working with me to perfect this piece, and their advice has been invaluable, and the friendships I've forged there priceless. Big thank you to the rocks of the group Katie, Liza, Jerri, John, and Tiombe. Some people have a squad, I have critters. (They know what I mean. It's not creepy. Well, maybe a little.)

Last but not least, I must include the SMU Writer's Path program in this list. I had a wisp of an idea when I attended the program, a little, emaciated, starving chimp of an idea. When I left there, I was leading a 300 pound gorilla on a leash, an idea that had to be tamed and trimmed because it had become so big and hairy! They gave me the tools to create something out of literally (or should I say "literarily?) almost nothing. You would not be reading these acknowledgements if it weren't for them. Okay, you might be, because I tend to put the horse before the cart, but there wouldn't be a big, fat, (hopefully) beautiful book behind this page.

Speaking of the book behind this page, thank YOU for buying it! And, as it is not complete (but I am in the 9th month of gestation), please feel free to offer your ideas and comments on how to perfect my offspring before I release it onto the world at large! Who knows, I might add you to this extremely entertaining (that everyone always reads in every book) acknowledgements page.

-Shana
Chapter 1

Zoe's death happened nothing like she'd expected. The few times in her life that she'd thought about dying and the afterlife, she pictured all of the usual clichés. She would die in bed at about 90 years old in her lavish mansion, surrounded by her loved ones and her thirty-something year old fifth husband, Ciero, her adoring fans holding a candlelight vigil in the courtyard below. Her twenty-three year old lover would be in the guest house, prostrate with grief.

In her vision of the future, Zoe died quietly, and more importantly, painlessly, her perfectly white hair splayed on the pillow in ringlets, her age-defying face softening as the light left her eyes. As she grasped Ciero's hand in hers, her last words were going to be "Tell God I'm ready for my close-up."

In reality, God decided that the Circle S convenience store would have to do. He also chose her twenty-third year as her last. She hadn't even been given time to get a _first_ husband to divorce, and the adoring fans outside were replaced with one homeless wino begging for change.

The gun shot tearing through her stomach released an explosion of pain Zoe could only compare to being hit by a tiny freight train traveling at 1800 miles per hour. Her last words just prior to being shot were "give me the...." Later, newspapers would sing the praises of her heroism at trying to get the guy robbing the store to give up his gun. No one knew that with so much alcohol churning in her system she thought the guy worked there and was trying to buy a pack of cigarettes from him.

Back in the mansion, 90 year-old Zoe's life played like a movie in front of her eyes in the moments before her death. Money, success, love, and happiness scrolled on like Frank Capra himself had directed it. All in all, not too shabby, imaginary, satisfied, 90-year old Zoe thought.

In reality, at the Circle S convenience store one summer night at about three am, her life didn't flash before her eyes when her killer fired the gun. There really wasn't much of interest to see, as she thought it had only just begun. In reality, what shot through her mind as the bullet shot through her body was _dammit, my mother was right._

That thought might possibly have upset her more than the whole being killed thing.

#

"I don't want you going out tonight."

Zoe rolled her eyes at her mother. If her last roommate hadn't decided to have an affair with their landlord and gotten them kicked out by a very angry wife (annoying that they both got evicted, since she had nothing to do with it), Zoe wouldn't have to be back here living with her mother and dealing with her insanity.

"Susan, I'm twenty-three years old. I can do what I want." She turned back to the mirror and applied her second coat of lipstick.

"Stop calling me Susan! I'm your mother! And that's my point. You're twenty-three. Do you know what I was doing at twenty-three? Raising you!"

Zoe eyeballed her mom, not an easy trick with an eyelash curler attached to her face. " _Raising_ me, Sus – _mom_?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I remember where I spent every Friday and Saturday night growing up. Staying with grandma so that you could go tear up the town!"

Her mother's eyes widened. "That just isn't true!"

"Mom, save it. Like mother, like daughter, right? The boob doesn't pop too far out of the bra, I guess." She slipped past her mother into the hallway.

Susan turned to follow her to her room. "Okay, if you want to go down that road, then that's another reason you shouldn't go out tonight!"

Zoe stopped digging through the piles of clothes on her bedroom floor and looked up at her mother. "What?"

"Well, if I was such a terrible person and you don't want to be anything like me, then you should stay home tonight. According to you, I never did that, so..." Susan shrugged.

"Nice try, mom." Zoe went back to digging. "You want to know how I am not being like _you_?" Finding the jeans she had been searching for, she stood up. "I'm on birth control."

Susan's eyes widened, "You... how dare you... I wasn't... you can't..."

Zoe felt triumphant; there's the nerve she wanted to hit! She knew she had been a mistake; her mother had told her so on many a drunken night. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her jeans. Grabbing the keys off her night stand, she brushed past her still stuttering mother, said, "Don't wait up," and headed down the hallway towards the front door.

Susan grabbed Zoe's arm, finding her words, "Not a mistake, a _surprise_. Like Ed McMahon telling you you've won the lottery."

"Yeah, or the president telling Hiroshima to duck." Zoe yanked her arm back and kept walking.

Her mother followed her outside. "Look, I didn't want to say it, because I know you think I'm crazy, but I have a bad feeling about tonight. I just feel like something could... happen to you."

"Is this grandma talking to you from the grave again? I don't think _you're_ crazy. I think _she's_ crazy for still wanting to hang out with you when she could go to heaven and play bocce ball at the activity center!" Zoe looked up at the sky. "Go into the light, grandma, go!" She opened her car door.

"She does impart her wisdom to me. Just because someone dies, doesn't mean they stop caring about the people they love."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Mom, that's a great saying. Why don't you embroider it on a pillow so I can sit on it when I get home?" She got in the car and started the engine.

Her mom ran down the porch steps, hollering. "Be careful, baby! Please!"

Waving a dismissive hand out the window, Zoe responded with, "Whatever, mom."

#

The bullet entered her body, jerking her backwards. Her eyes bulged from the pain, and her hands flew instinctively to the wound. Looking down, she saw tracers of shimmering yellow light swirling up from the bullet hole. _Now, that's odd._ She tried to grasp at them, then realized her fingers were shimmering and yellow, too. She brought her hand to her face, examining it like she'd never seen it before, perhaps because she hadn't. Not like this, anyway. She looked down and observed that her entire body sparkled, like a vampire in a bad book she read once. Everything seemed to be happening slow motion. She heard a thud behind her.

Turning around, she stared at her body on the floor, and it looked up at her with dead eyes.

Hmmm. This is definitely getting weird.

She turned at the sound of another gun shot, about to shout, _dude, you got me, chill out!_ But this shot came from a police officer's gun, pointed at her killer. The bullet hit him in the chest and he staggered back, the gun he had trained on the police officer moments before flying out of his flailing arm and skittering to the floor. Zoe watched his body fall away as his shimmering... aura? Soul?... _something_... pulled apart from it. The way it contorted and stretched as it came loose from his body reminded her of the crazy mirrors in a Fun House.

The next moment, they were standing there, facing each other. The sounds of the officers yelling, the other customers screaming, and the ambulance sirens echoed far away and contorted, as if Zoe heard them from underwater. The world around her turned fuzzy, but she could see him, her attacker, with a perfect clarity. They made eye contact and he cocked his head, looking like a confused puppy.

That's when she saw it. From behind him came a blurry flash, like static-filled lightning. A skeletal hand creeped around the neck of her killer, and a bone face forever frozen into a smile came to rest on his shoulder. _Was that... Death? There is no way dying was really this cheesy! Those terrible B horror films couldn't have been spot on._ As if in answer, the tip of a scythe appeared from her attacker's chest, splitting his ethereal shape in half from behind. The static blur flashed again, providing pyrotechnics for Death's exit, along with half of her killer's form. The other half sagged to the floor, the incandescent light it exuded moments before sputtering like a flashlight with dying batteries.

Zoe spun around, sure she would find Death flashing up behind her. She backed up slowly, scanning the room for any sign of static light. Her foot connected with something, and she lost her balance. She fell in a heap on top of her killer's dimming half-form.

Zoe yelped and scrambled back on her butt, but it made no move towards her. In fact, it seemed to be crying quietly, like a small child. Eyes still peeled for Death, she reached a tentative hand toward it. She wasn't sure what her intentions were, other than to see if it lay dying. She had no clue how to check the pulse on a half form of an already dead guy, but she reached for what she thought was its wrist anyway. When her hand connected with it, a blinding flash dazzled her eyes. She yanked her arm back and tried to blink away the spots clouding her vision. The form on the floor grasped at her arm desperately; her skin burned where it touched her. She tried to pull away from it, in a desperate tug-of-war with something resembling a glittering yellow gummy bear. Seemingly unaware of her attempts to disentangle herself from it, the half-being curled around and crawled up her arm, a wispy, smoke-like snake of light wrapping around and through her fingers. She watched, frozen with WTF-edness, as the yellow tendrils traveled across her chest, and sank into her body. Her skin tingled in the places that they slowly absorbed and disappeared.

Wide eyed and still trying to scrabble away from the danger, Zoe fell on her butt. At the same time the world came rushing back to her at full speed, like a film instantly converted from black and white mono to Technicolor with digital surround sound. There were official looking people snapping pictures, cops interviewing the shaken store clerk, and paramedics peering down at her body. One of them turned and shook his head slowly at a police officer standing nearby.

The loudest sound Zoe ever heard was the zipper closing on her body bag.

#

Zoe followed her body to the ambulance and climbed inside. She wanted to stay with her corporeal self, even though an uneasy feeling nagged at her that it wouldn't make a difference.

The ambulance driver didn't turn on the sirens. They drove at the speed limit and obeyed all traffic rules. No one even rode in the back with her. Zoe screamed at the driver, "Go! Go! Go! There's got to still be hope! If I'm dead than why am I _here_?" She received no response from him, almost as though he had no idea she _was_ there. She looked back at the body bag strapped to the gurney. _Why would they need to hurry? In case I'm a zombie and about to rise up and kill them?_ Zoe glanced at the body bag. Did it just move? An hour ago she would have laughed her ass off if someone tried to sell _any_ supernatural idea on her, but in light of recent circumstances... When the body bag betrayed not a rustle, she shook her head. The only reason for them to rush now would be to get the freezer drawer by the window. She assumed that there's probably no wait at the morgue. She settled back on the bench and chewed on her nails, staring at the cuticles. She had never been a nail biter before, but what could it hurt now? She figured out rather quickly why she had never picked up this habit. Nails tasted _weird_. She stopped chewing and decided to pick at the embroidery on her jeans instead. The thought dawned on her that she kept herself busy so as to avoid looking at her body. She couldn't process that bit of fleshy information just now. So she set about surveying herself. Her non-flesh self. The self on the bench. Her soul? Man, the terminology was confusing. Maybe she should have ridden in a different ambulance. She felt like the girl who went to the prom in the exact same dress as someone else. _You know, the one in the pink dress with ruffles. No, the_ other _one in the pink dress with the ruffles._

But, was that her? That body? She had wrapped up a lot about her personal value in the way she looked, always been proud of her big eyes, flat stomach, and great hair. All of that lay in a black bag now, tossed away like so much trash. _Wouldn't the girls who called me trash in high school make a heyday with that?_ Granted, when she looked down at her body now, she still looked good, albeit also seemingly invisible to anyone else, an absolute first for her. She pinched herself. That's how everyone in the movies proved to themselves that they weren't dreaming, so what could it hurt?

It didn't.

She pinched herself again, watching the flesh of her lower arm come together between thumb and forefinger and feeling nothing. Okay. What exactly had she just proven? That she _was_ dreaming? _Wasn't_ dreaming? Dammit, in the movies it always hurt! She had expected to experience pain or to wake up at home in her own bed, Auntie Em bathing her forehead with a cold cloth. What does feeling nothing convey? She pinched herself a few more times out of pure frustration, then decided to move on, wishing she'd had this super power when her grandmother used to drag a 5-year old hyperactive Zoe to church and she couldn't sit still during the sermon. Grandma had been a master at the pinch and twist.

So, it seemed no one could hear her. Just to be sure, she hurled out some derogatory and unflattering suggestions to the ambulance driver suggesting he become quite intimate with a certain item of produce. She had the right to be angry, dammit! It made her feel briefly better to yell at people, no matter how innocent they may be in the whole situation. She elicited no response, even when she suggested that his mother might sit on said produce and spin. She felt sort of bad for that one. After all, she didn't know his mother. She might be a perfectly lovely woman. Not all mothers suck. Or so she'd been told.

Was she a ghost? She looked at her hand. It seemed solid enough to her. She wiggled the fingers and clapped. She had just pinched herself with it. However, when she reached out to touch some unknown piece of medical equipment, her hand went right through it without so much as a gust of wind accompanying it. It looked a little like some cheesy special effects from an 80's movie. Who knew CGI would be better than death?

She spent the rest of the ride alternately pinching herself, clapping, and lunging at various objects in the back of the ambulance. _It's probably good that no one can see me. If anyone looked in the windows now, they'd think this thing was on the way to the loony bin. Maybe it should be._ They arrived at the morgue and opened the back, Zoe no closer to figuring out what the hell she became than she had been when she entered. Hopping out, she once again followed her body.

#

She didn't get the drawer by the window, as this would have required her drawer to be ceiling adjacent. Zoe had never seen a morgue except on TV shows, but she'd have to say that they were pretty spot on. She had heard someone say once that all hospital rooms lead to the basement. It was some annoying goth kid at her high school attempting something like a threat when she'd started a tiff with him over who-knows-what. Although she didn't admit it at the time, she hadn't known what he'd meant. She'd come back with some clever response like "suck it, freak" and turned on her heel to storm off, so as to end the conversation and potential revelation of her ignorance.

Now she knew. The morgue is in the basement. Only one strip of windows at the top of the wall let in any natural light, and since they were frosted over for the privacy of the cadavers (or more probably the protection of potential horrified onlookers), the effect created at best a muted feel, and at worst a spooky vibe.

She walked behind the paramedics as they rolled her body through the swinging doors, barely missing being hit by them as they closed. They came to a stop in front of a messy desk, manned, if you could call it that, by a snoring kid who Zoe didn't think could have been much older than her. His feet were kicked up on the desk top, and he leaned back at a precarious angle on an old wooden office chair. The paramedics looked at each other and grinned. The blonde one quietly crouched down and hovered his hands over the sleeping guy's feet while the dark haired one went around the back of the chair and, after grasping it very carefully, yanked down. Sleepy's rest came to an abrupt end. He shot upright and tried to get to his feet, only to have the other paramedic grab them, so he ended up kicking and flailing helplessly.

"You guys! Come on!" Sleepy whined as he pushed his glasses, which had slid off his nose, back on.

"Wake up, man! It's the graveyard shift and we have another one for the graveyard!" The one who said this slapped what Zoe hoped was her foot.

This is when she got pissed. Yes, this little show looked very similar to the way she usually conducted herself, teasing and having fun at – okay, usually someone else's expense. But this involved a vibrant, attractive, and recently dead girl that lie right between them. This screamed of bad taste. Speaking as the dead girl, she wanted them to stop it right now and conduct themselves like professionals.

The blonde paramedic pushed Zoe's legs to the side and sat down on the gurney. "Come on, doofus, let's get this one signed in so we can get on with our night."

"It's _Rufus_ " Sleepy responded, pushing his glasses in place once again.

" _D_ omato, _R_ omato," the dark haired one responded, emphasizing the first letter of each word and high-fiving the blonde one.

Rufus began shuffling around on his paper strewn desk until he unearthed an IPad. He closed out the game of Angry Birds he'd apparently been playing and opened up an official looking app.

"Name?"

"It's on the ID. In her packet."

"Age?"

"I don't know, 30?" Zoe could have murdered that one. She didn't look a day over 23! "It's on the ID. In her packet."

"Cause of death? Or is that on the ID, too?" Rufus looked exasperated, but proud of himself for getting a shot in.

"Gunshot wound. Abdomen."

"Time of death?"

"Let's see... I was taking a piss out behind the 'lance, like I always do after the 4th hour of my shift, you know, because of the coffee and energy drinks. So it would have been around... 3am."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Yeah, it was two cups of coffee with cream and sugar and a Green Minotaur. Piss probably lasted... oh, 30 seconds. It was very pleasurable."

Rufus rolled his eyes. "I meant about the time of death?"

"Look, it's all in the packet. Can't you just let us sign the damned thing and go? _We_ have to go help the living; you can stay here and hump the dead."

_Oh, God! Was he going to_ hump _me?_

"That's not what I do." Rufus looked over his glasses at them and threw the IPad across the desk. "Here. Sign."

Each man stared at Rufus as they signed with a flourish. "She's all yours."

Right before leaving out the swinging doors, the dark haired one turned, jutted his hips forward a few times, smiled, and said, "Enjoy."

Zoe made up her mind right then and there that if she _was_ a ghost, she would haunt their asses through eternity.

Rufus rolled his eyes and turned to her cadaver.

He unzipped her body bag and fished out the packet from an inside pocket.

Zoe laid eyes on her body for the first time since she'd fallen in the convenience store. It may have been the light in the room, but her face seemed very blue. She wanted to pinch her cheeks and massage some life back into her lips. She felt herself start to panic.

So, what? My body dies and then I'm just left to wander around for eternity, touching nothing and interacting with no one? Bullshit!

A clattering sound behind her interrupted her thoughts. She whipped around, realizing that she still waited for Death to arrive to collect her. She wasn't sure which she feared more, the wandering forever or the unknown purveyor of dead souls with that frozen face, bony grip, and scythe.

The clattering had come from a stack of bed pans stored against the wall falling over. A woman in an old fashioned nurse's uniform and cap had knocked them down. She fell to the floor writhing and grasping at her neck. Rufus rolled his eyes and walked over to the pile, muttering, "Not again." He crouched down and began to pick up the hospital detritus. The woman lie a foot from Rufus, her face turning blue. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she started foaming at the mouth.

"Help her!" Zoe found herself screaming. "Why aren't you helping her?"

Rufus kept picking up the mess, ignoring the distressed nurse. Zoe ran to him and tried to grab him, to get him to notice the woman, but her hands slipped through him like room temperature butter, his shiver the only indication that he had felt anything at all.

She stepped over to the woman, although now she knew she couldn't do anything.

Rufus continued to mutter. "I always tell them to stack these against a different wall. 'The floor must be slanted here.' I say. 'They fall down.' I say. But I take a day off, and they always put them back against the same wall."

Zoe watched, horrified, as the woman stilled. Her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth, and her once pretty bouffant hairdo looked like a rat's nest after all the flailing. Zoe looked back at the very much distracted Rufus. _You asshole. You were more concerned about pans people piss in than a dying girl._

She turned her head back, and the woman vanished. _What the...?_

Her head shot around the room, and she saw it. Around the corner from where the bed pans had been, the young nurse who had just _died_ walked again, smiling and talking to some unseen friend. The woman staggered back against the wall, grasping at her neck, as the whole horrifying scene played out again. No bed pans were harmed in the making of this second scene, as they had been relocated by Rufus.

There was no slant in the floor of the room. There was an abomination in the room. _Domato, Romato,_ Zoe thought.

She backed up from the scene slowly as it started a third time, and found herself standing in the middle of her own gurney.

"Screw that," she said aloud. "That is not going to be me. This cannot be it."

She climbed back into her body, trying to center herself as closely as possible. She _willed_ this literal bag of bones back up. _This will_ not _be it for me._

Thirteen hours later, safely in her own drawer at the morgue, she began to think that this may, in fact, be _it_ for her.
Chapter 2

Saul looked at his cell phone. The coordinates were there. He came to the right place, so where was the soul? He peered around the convenience store. The police were still here, mostly standing around looking haggard. An Asian couple in bathrobes that Saul assumed were the owners hassled one of them, presumably the new guy.

"When do we get to reopen?" The man asked.

"It's an open and shut case. I've provided you with the paperwork so you can make an insurance claim. You can pretty much open up whenever the clean-up is done."

"And _who's_ going to clean it up?" The woman's curlers jiggled when she talked, looking as if they might leap off her head and attack the officer it they didn't like his answer.

The police officer rubbed his chin. "I guess whoever you can hire at this hour to do those kinds of things."

"Are you being funny with us?" The man, although at least a foot shorter than the police officer, stepped forward and waggled a menacing finger in his face. "Don't you have some kind of... CIS... CSC..."

"CSI!" The woman chimed in triumphantly.

"Yeah!" The man gave his wife an appreciative pat on the back. "-to do those things?"

"Of course! _That's_ what CSI does. I'll call Grissom from my squad car right now!" The policeman stalked out of the store, and the other officers followed.

As they drove off, the woman said, "I don't think he's really going to call anyone. We should have gotten his badge number."

Saul watched the whole scene with little amusement. His role as a shepherd exposed him to scenes of death regularly, but it never failed to amaze him how people reacted. He collected a soul from a Walmart one Black Friday Eve that had been trampled to death. One of the people stampeding by stopped, not to help her, but to grab the coupon for a $50 DVD player she still clutched in her not-even-cold dead hands.

Saul preferred being alone to being with people. Most of them, when it came down to the wire, showed their true color of suckage. Truthfully, he didn't venture out of his safe house much except to collect the souls under his care.

He had been wandering around the store looking for any sign of a soul when he realized he had gravitated to the chip aisle, specifically, the Fun Yuns. _Oh, how I miss you, my golden circles of deliciousness._ Saul, of course, knew there heaven existed, but due to his security clearance levels (he was only a Beta, and you had to be Alpha _and_ Omega), he had no idea what it was like. _Man, if these babies aren't there, I don't want to go._ He fingered a bag. _One day, we will be together again._

#

The couple looked up from their phone call to the insurance company when some bags of chips fell on the floor. The woman added it to the claims list. Surely, they were inedible _now_.

#

No one had ever accused Saul of being handsome. He had died in his mid-thirties of a heart attack. He weighed about 350 pounds and still seemed to work up a sweat and run out of breath just walking across a room, even though both breathing and sweating were unnecessary in the afterlife. His lack of compassion for other people, or ghosts for that matter, hid a truly kind heart that had been abused a few too many times, and his brown eyes had a softness to them that he tried like hell, but never seemed to be able, to mask. He had been an IT guy in life, so he acted as the Webmaster for the DFW chapter of deadenough.com, the website for ghosts on the move ("ghosts with the most" as Saul – and no one else – liked to call it). He also acted as a designated shepherd.

He died 20 years ago, when the internet, as far as anyone outside of the government knew, was in its infancy. If some of the things that can be found for free on the internet now could have been found then, Saul would have died even earlier, probably from dehydration and a massive Vitamin D deficiency, because he never would have gotten off his computer, except possibly to fill his gut. In the afterlife, he stepped away from it as little as possible. He didn't really have to go out much; he had tracking software for his souls, and he communicated with them through email, IM's, and texting. Right now, his cheeks were eager to hit his desk seat.

Saul walked through the wall of the convenience store and once outside, pulled out his cell phone again. He hit the speed dial and said "yes" and "no" through several menu options. His favorite of the options? "If you think you have died in error, say 'yes.'" If you say 'yes', there is a pause, during which they apologize for the wait, your call is very important to us, etc. They then come back on the line and say "You have not died in error." After a pause, "If you have now accepted your death and are ready to deal with reality, say 'yes.'" If you say "no," the same message plays on a loop. Saul imagined there were crazies out there that kept heaven's lines busy just playing that message constantly.

He of course, would prefer to be having this conversation via the computer or at least text message, but he found communicating via the 800 number an occasional a necessity. Most of the high tech options hadn't even existed when he'd died. He prided himself on creating or helping to create a lot of the afterlife's web presence. Thanks to firewalls and coding, and divine intervention of course, none of it could be detected on the machinery of the living. This meant, for the most part, that he finally got to work from home. His death couldn't have been more suited to him.

Finally, he punched the last option in, and a nasally, sickly sweet voice said, "Heaven's Gateway, Marcy speaking."

"Hey, Marcy, it's Saul."

"Security code, please."

"Dude, it's Saul. Come on – "

"Security code, _please_."

"Okay, we only talk every other day, but sure thing. It's Beta 22:1:12."

"Alright. I see your name is Saul. How can I be of service today, Saul?"

"Seriously, man?"

"Yes, how can I seriously be of service today, Saul?"

Another example of why he hated people. "I can't find the soul I was sent to collect."

"Okay."

Saul could hear typing on the other side of the line.

"It says here that you were sent to collect a soul-"

"Duh!" Saul interrupted.

"It _says here that you were sent to collect a soul_ from the Circle S convenience store in Dallas."

"Right." His teeth were clenched so tightly he felt pretty sure they might break.

"Are you at the Circle S convenience store in Dallas?"

"Yes."

"The one on Lemon Ave?"

" _Yes_."

"And the soul is not there?"

" _No_."

"The one on _South_ Lemon Ave?"

Saul wondered at the fact that his teeth weren't turning to dust. "Dude! The one on _South_ Lemon Ave where a murder occurred about two hours ago. _That_ Circle S!"

"Alright, let me see what I can find out. I'm going to put you on hold for just one minute. Is that okay, sir?"

" _Fine_."

Saul listened to the hold music, occasionally interrupted by an automated voice sharing tips and updates such as "Remember, as a shepherd your job is to push new souls in the directions they need to go, offer advice, and be there when they are Called, but not to interfere beyond that. The souls must learn on their own what they have to do to receive the Call." His favorite remained the recently added, "Although the preferred term for the souls in your care is 'transitional,' we ask that you not refer to them as 'trannies.'" Saul thought smugly, _they wouldn't be having this problem if they had accepted my suggestion of the use of the phrase "AC/DC."_ The third time the automated voice interrupted to gently urge him to "get to know your charges, before letting them 'charge' off on their own," it took everything in Saul not to hurl the phone across the parking lot. Wouldn't do much good anyway; it would just re-materialize in his pocket, like it always did. His frustration and concern grew by the minute. A soul not being where it was supposed to be never happened, and he began to expect that things were about to get complicated. It looked like it was going to be a long shift, and he wanted to get back home. It's Raid night on World of Warcraft. His Guild buddies _needed_ him; he was the Tank.

A click on the line interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you there, sir?"

"Yes, Marcy."

"This is an unusual case, sir. Newly released souls don't have the capability to just get up and walk. They're too weak. I spoke with my manager, and he was wondering if you had really looked thoroughly?"

"Dude, I looked."

"Did you check under everything in the area, sir?" Marcy attempted to sound jovial. "My manager just told me about a time he found a soul that had slipped into a drainage ditch! Boy, did he feel silly! If it had been a snake – well, maybe that's a poor choice of words..."

"Believe it or not, Marcy, there is not a drainage ditch even _in_ the store. The soul has gone bye-bye, man."

Marcy's tone changed to solemn as she said "I'm going to put you on hold for just one minute. Is that okay, sir?"

"Yes."

This time the voice only had time to say "Watch out for -" before she came back. _Ominous_ , Saul thought.

"We've put a tracer on the soul, sir. We'll send the new coordinates to your cell."

Saul threw the phone across the parking lot and watched it smash into several pieces on the concrete. When it re-materialized seconds later, the coordinates were in it.

And also a text message from Marcy.

Sorry. The boss has come down on everybody. Had to go by the book. Something fishy going on.

_Great_ , thought Saul. _What is there, a disturbance in the Force?_

#

Zoe blinked back the tears as she stared at nothing in the darkness. _Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out_ running like a mantra through her head. She gave herself pep talks. _You have been in worse situations than this. Remember when Mom's Boyfriend Number Five moved in? He wanted you to bring him beers from the fridge all the time and sit on his lap and called you "Minnie Suzie." When he tried to get weird you'd slapped him, even though he had over a hundred pounds on you. While he rubbed his butt-hurt cheek, you rode your bike down to the Walmart and got a new doorknob with a lock for your bedroom door. You installed it yourself. You didn't tell your mom; you didn't cry; you handled it yourself. Look at it this way: nobody's going to get weird with you now. Nobody even knows you exist anymore!_ Surprisingly, that last little tidbit hadn't helped. She rolled over onto her side, crying.

Don't freak out, Don't freak out, Don't freak out...

She dried her eyes and rolled back onto her back. "Okay, Zoe, make a plan," she commanded herself.

_My plan... my plan... my plan is... to ride my bike to Walmart and get a new body?_ Walmart has almost everything, but that they probably didn't stock.

Exhaustion came over her, and she felt as though she weighed a thousand pounds. In the pitch darkness, she couldn't really tell, but it seemed as though her vision blurred. She ran her hands over her eyes and opened them again.

_The fire consumed everything. It seemed so real that Zoe couldn't believe that the smoke didn't sting her eyes. She wondered if she had fallen into hell, if she had slipped through some portal. Maybe she had finally ended up where she was supposed to go in the first place. Fear wrenched the pit of her stomach. She tried to make out anything she could in the smoke. Wasn't some demon going to greet her? Welcome her to her forever home? Oddly, she realized she didn't feel hot. She actually felt nothing at all, as if she watched a scene play out in front of her. She waved at some of the smoke, trying to see something, anything through it. In front of her, she spied a display rack of various bags of chips, the packaging melting and the contents popping and sizzling in the flames. There were chips in hell? Feeling a little more oriented, she walked down what she assumed to be an aisle in some sort of store. At the end of the walkway, she found melted and flattened candy bars, some of the chocolate oozing out and down the shelves, creating a puddle on the floor. Continuing to wave her hands in front of her to clear what little she could of the smoke, she spied the front door. The Circle S logo on the door handles stared at her through the flames. Was this_ the _Circle S? Was she dreaming about the place she had been killed mere hours ago? She pushed through the doors, the scalding metal not hurting her at all, and burst out into the parking lot. Her blood ran cold as, in the clear air outside, she saw her killer standing under the awning over the gas pumps, staring at the store and smiling strangely, looking satisfied and pompous. His head swiveled in her direction, and as she tried to scramble backwards to get out of his view, she stumbled and fell._

Zoe jerked awake. She felt around her, relieved, something she couldn't have imagined a moment ago, to find herself safely inside her drawer. _It was just a nightmare. Everything is fine. Don't freak out..._

Letting them seal her up in this drawer with her body turned out to be a bad idea in retrospect. Not only was she apparently totally, irrevocably, probably forever dead, she was now having nightmares and trapped in a dark compartment with no way she knew of to get out. The pitch black didn't help. She'd lost all sense of herself in here. She thought she lay still perfectly positioned "in case," (even though she felt pretty sure "in case" was officially becoming "no chance"), but for all she knew with all of the tossing and turning she had done while dreaming, she now lied curled up with her head in her own feet at this point. If she became reanimated, she might have to adjust to walking on her head and kissing people with her feet.

That thought answered the question, "have I gone bat-shit crazy" with a resounding "yes."

_Don't freak out, don't frea_... She gave up. The mantra wasn't helping. She freaked out.

How exactly could she make a plan for the next step in her life... _slash_ death... when she couldn't even get out of this drawer? She felt like a cat that had been put in the dryer, all wild-eyed and static-haired with no way of escaping. Only in this case, she had chosen to go into the dryer in the first place. She had always been able to blame someone else for the difficult situations she found herself in. The fault lay her lousy mother, absentee father (whoever the hell he was), or some school or city official that had done her wrong, caused her to go astray. Who could she blame in this instance? _Could it be... Satan?_ She remembered the Saturday Night Live Church Lady sketch from weekend nights curled up on her grandmother's couch when she was a kid. Supposed to be asleep in her bed, she always sneaked out and watched the TV after grandma had gone to sleep.

Grandma! She was dead, too!

_Whoa! Calm down, now!_ The denial centers of her brain lit up like Christmas lights. _Dead,_ too _? We don't know what's going on here, yet. Don't be so hasty!_

Yeah, hasty. Because it's only been 13 hours of me not breathing. People have come back from that, right? We're dead. Deal with it!

She rolled over again. All five of the stages of grief were hitting her at once. Denial, anger, depression, acceptance, and multiple personality disorder.

That alone proved that she should in no way be responsible for her own destiny. She washed her hands of it at this moment. If her grandmother really existed out there somewhere, protecting her, just like her crazy mother had believed, Zoe mentally challenged her to figure out a way to get her out of this damned prison she'd put herself in.

Time passed very weirdly in that dark box, but it seemed to Zoe like the very next instant, the clinically bright light from the morgue ceiling blinded her as her drawer rolled open.

Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out...

She sat up.

#

"There you are!" Saul exclaimed. "I've been looking for you, man!"

Zoe blinked twice as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights. "Okay..."

"Why didn't you stay at the convenience store?"

Zoe blinked again, and then squinted at Saul, tilting her head like a confused puppy. "Um... who are you?"

He continued speaking over her. "Actually, and probably more importantly, how did you _leave_ the convenience store?"

"I just walked out. And your name is...?"

"I mean," He paced now, hand rubbing his chin "That's not even possible, man. At least, it never has been before." He stopped and ran his other hand through his hair. "I wonder if there's some way to scan you, see what's up with your soul. Dude, I've been working on a computer software update that may be able to capture the exact signature of your soul and-"

"Okay, bye now." Zoe rolled her eyes and hopped out of her drawer. Casting one last glance at her body, she walked toward the exit doors.

"Wait!" Saul lumbered after her. "Sorry, I get kind of worked up about computer stuff sometimes. I'm Saul." He stuck a sweaty hand out to her, bulbous thumb pointing to the sky.

Zoe looked at his outstretched palm. She never did well making friends, and she really didn't want to make any acquaintances in her current, very vulnerable state. An ironic smile couldn't help but cross her lips at the thought that she'd usually rather die than ask someone for help. _I guess that's not an issue anymore._ Saul obviously mistook her smile for a greeting and gave her one in return.

"There, that's better."

"So, Saul, who are you?"

"I'm your shepherd. I'm here to help you greet your new world!"

As he launched into some well-rehearsed speech, the sight of the nurse dying again for the umpteenth time in the corner drew Zoe's attention. She interrupted before he could get very far.

"Okay." She motioned to the nurse, who at this point fell to the floor, foaming at the mouth. In her calmest, don't-let-this-guy-sense-that-you're-freaking-out tone of voice she said, "Let's start with this. What is it, and can you fix it?"

Saul looked uncomfortable. "Going right for the hardball questions, huh?" He paused, put his hands in his pockets, and blew out a sigh. "Not really..."

"Okay?" Zoe raised her eyebrows, encouraging Saul to elaborate.

"This is what we call a..." Saul looked away from the scene, "Crazy."

"Crazy?"

"Yeah," He realized for the first time what a heartless moniker someone created. "Crazies don't accept their deaths. So... they're doomed to relive them."

"For how long?"

He rocked back and forth on his heels, "Forever?" He phrased it like a question.

"Like, eternity, forever?"

"I've never heard of anyone breaking out of the cycle. I mean, I guess when Judgment Day comes..."

"Judgment Day?" Zoe felt sick to her stomach.

"Look dude, this is way far down the line in my spiel. You're supposed to get settled in first, and then learn the difficult stuff. Later."

"Okay, I'll leave that alone for a minute and back up. Am I a ghost?"

"Sort of."

"Can I haunt people? Because the two jackasses who brought me here need their butts haunted."

"How _did_ you get here?"

"I hopped onto the ambulance that carried my body. The paramedics were-"

"Wait, you just hopped onto the ambulance? Just on your merry way?"

"Yes. And the paramedics-"

"You weren't woozy? Or out of sorts?" Saul stared at her, an incredulous look on his face.

"I mean, I'd just been _shot_ , so there was that. I guess you could say I was a little out of sorts."

"A _little_?"

"Hey, now you're interrupting _my_ spiel!"

"Okay dude," Saul held up his hands in mock surrender. "By all means, go ahead and complain about the people who spend most of their time saving lives. How did the mean pawamedics tweat you again? Wait, I mean how did they treat your _dead_ body?"

Zoe was nonplussed. In the light of a new day, she felt pretty silly complaining about them. "They... moved my legs and sat on the gurney."

"Oh, man! I'm going to call upstairs and revoke their heavenly passes right now!" Saul made a phone with his pinky finger and thumb and held it to his ear.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "They also said some mean stuff."

Saul put his hand down. "What did you do for a living?"

"Great choice of words." Zoe dodged the question.

"What did you do to make money? When you were alive?"

She tried to puff up. "I was in sales."

"So you ran a cash register."

"Among other things."

"And you never, not even one time, complained about the customers in the break room?"

"That's different! They were alive!"

"So it's okay to make fun of the living, who might find out and can get their feelings hurt, but it is not okay to tease a dead body, when their souls _most_ times aren't around anymore to hear it?"

Zoe stared at the floor.

"Man, you blew off steam at your job, and they blow off steam at theirs. How did they treat you prior to you actually dying?"

She kicked at a spot on the floor, like a three year old being chided. "They seemed like they were doing their best," then, in a defiant tone, "but I was a little distracted."

At just that moment, Rufus walked in, arms laden with paperwork and an apple in his mouth.

After waiting a moment to be chided for climbing out of her drawer, Zoe remembered that he couldn't see her. She jumped up and down and pointed. "They were mean to Rufus! He was just doing his job, and they teased him!"

Saul rolled his eyes. "We need to go. I haven't even started the spiel, and it's Raid night!"

Zoe planted herself. "I don't even know what that means, but I do know that Rufus needs a win."

"And what makes you think _I_ can do anything about that?"

Zoe didn't move. She _didn't_ know if he could do anything about that, but dammit she was getting some redemption, if not for her than for Rufus.

"Dude, fine. _Then_ can I do my spiel?"

"Spiel away. After."

Saul pulled a phone out of his pocket and began punching buttons. "Yeah, I need an intervention. Nothing major. Maybe a girlfriend?" Saul sighed. "He seems lonely. Yeah, I'll text you the coordinates."

Zoe smiled. It felt weirdly good to do something for someone else.
Chapter 3

Saul snapped the phone shut. "There. Happy?"

"Yeah. Never been better." She smiled her best fake smile.

"But seriously," she looked away, "thank you."

"You don't say those words often, do you? Did it hurt?"

"I haven't had cause to say them much." Zoe squinted her eyes at him and sneered. "And yeah, a little."

"Spiel?"

"Spiel." She cupped her chin in her hands like an eager school girl.

"Man, don't do that. I can't be serious if you're doing that."

"Fine." She mimed putting on glasses and readied an imaginary pen over her open palm. In her best southern-snob drawl, she said, " _do_ go on."

Saul sighed. "I'm just not going to look at you."

He walked toward the morgue doors, then through them. Actually through them. They didn't even flutter. Zoe stared after him.

He popped his head back through the door, a light aura around his shoulders where his form intersected the solid metal.

"You coming?"

Zoe bit her lip and shook her head in a small, awkward way. "I'll just wait until someone opens them."

"Really, dude? You got up after being killed, made it all the way here on your own somehow, crawled into a drawer with your body, and _this_ is going to be the thing you can't do?"

She stood stock still.

"Okay," he rolled his eyes and came back through the door. "I'll start in here."

He grabbed her arm. "You are going to feel real, to you. But, the world out here," he indicated the room with his arm, "doesn't recognize you anymore, dude. You are _dead person non grata_. It's going to pretty much ignore you. The nice part about that is the laws of this world don't affect you either. You can't get hurt; you can't die again. What you _can_ do is ignore everything you ever thought you knew about mass and matter. It won't be an issue for you anymore, man. In other words," He pulled her to the door by the arm he'd been holding, "You can do this." He walked through it and pulled her after.

A bright light flashed in her eyes as she passed through the metal, coming out in the hallway on the other side. Her stomach flopped once.

Her fleeting nausea must have shown on her face, because Saul said, "Yeah, you get used to that."

He let go of her arm. Zoe felt a surprising jolt of loneliness at losing the first physical contact she'd had since dying. She also felt pretty stupid about trying to sneak into the morgue behind the paramedics before the doors closed. She obviously could have come and gone as she pleased the whole time.

"In the ambulance, I pinched myself, to see if I was dreaming or something. I could touch my arm, but I couldn't feel the pinch at all."

"Okay, first of all, why is pinching what people do to see if they are dreaming?" Saul asked. "Is it because reality sucks and the only way you know you're in it is if you're in pain? Well, you're not going to wake up, dude. You're dead. The hole in your chest should be reminder enough." He pointed at her front.

She glanced down. There loomed indeed a large dark red, congealed, mess of a hole in her chest where she had been shot. "Ew! I didn't even notice that!" She grabbed at her shirt and tried to pull it closed over the wound, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

"It's okay, man. Calm down. You just have to think hard about _not_ having that there. Think about the way you looked before."

Zoe closed her eyes and concentrated. Slowly, as she pictured her body, she mentally erased the gunshot wound. A tingling sensation tickled her stomach. She cracked an eyelid and sneaked a peak. The hole seemed to be fading a little, but it still lay very much there. Closing her eyes again, she pictured the last time she had looked in the mirror, before going out to the club. She felt a tingle in her chest, like she could feel the wound disappearing and healing. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked down at a clean, blood-free shirt.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Okay, now your soul, for ease of presentation I guess and so that our brains don't totally explode, presents itself to you looking like... well, you. But, your body's really not there at all. So you can pinch it, slap it, tickle it, whatever, and you're not going to _feel_ any of it. Got it?"

"Got it, boss!" She saluted.

Saul rolled his eyes and checked his phone. "Let's go. Room 237."

Turning down the hallway, Zoe halted in her tracks. Pointing, she said, "Wha... wha... _is_ that thing?"

Snarling, at the end of the hall, hulked a... creature. Zoe couldn't wrap her mind around the way it looked. Some kind of a cross between a dog and a human. It sat on all fours and seemed to pant at her, but it had a barrel chest and human feet. As she stared, mesmerized, it raced towards her, its huge red eyes filled with burning hate.

Zoe screamed.

Saul, next to her, fell on his knees with his head bowed and started what sounded to Zoe like a chant under his breath. It rose in decibel as the creature neared them. Saul stood just as the creature jumped the last few feet to his victims.

Yelling, "Amen," Saul raised his hand into the air, aiming at the creature's belly.

Zoe watched as some sort of force-field froze the monster in mid-air. It whimpered like a cowed puppy, hanging above them like a child's party piñata.

"Come on," Saul motioned Zoe to walk under it.

Her head followed it as they continued on their way. "I ask again: what was that thing?"

"Don't worry about it. It won't be any threat to us. By the time that prayer wears off, we'll be long gone."

"Yes, but will it come looking for us? I mean, it seemed pretty angry at us for something."

"Can't. It's a crazy. It's stuck right where it is. Probably just got caught in the middle of whatever nightmare it lives out every day."

"Well, let's hope things stay that way. I think you pissed him off."

"Trust me. He's not going anywhere."

They wound through the hospital. Zoe raised an eyebrow when they stepped onto an elevator. Apparently, though she could walk through walls, levitation did not exist among her new-found abilities.

When they reached room 237, Saul turned to Zoe.

"This might be... disturbing. But, it's part of the spiel. In my contract."

As they walked through the door, Zoe felt unsure of what to expect. On a single bed in the middle of the room, an elderly woman lay, gasping. She stared at the ceiling with unseeing, milky eyes and continued her struggle to breath. Zoe shuddered as a trail of spittle wound its way out of her open mouth and down her chin. Her throat rattled with every attempt to inhale, and her breaths came slower and shallower as Zoe watched. The old woman lurched up and grasped at her throat before falling back on the mattress, still as stone. Zoe covered her mouth in shock, attempting to hold back the scream building there. Had she just witnessed someone die? She turned to Saul, hand still over her mouth. He pointed back at the bed.

She looked back to where he indicated. Dead lady... room... Then she saw it. So slowly that she hadn't noticed it until just now, the rays of light coming through the window in the room were shifting, coming together. Over the course of what seemed to a mesmerized Zoe like hours, the light from the window coalesced into a form. The angel's head almost touched the ceiling, and its shining wings took up most of the room. It looked down lovingly at the still figure on the bed. A simple gesture from it and the visage of the woman's spirit rose, glowing yellow like Zoe's had when first released from her own body. Her softly glowing form began aging backwards in front of Zoe's eyes as this occurred, her body stretching as the gnarled hands and limbs broke free from the trappings of life and smoothed into soft, unlined, graceful appendages. Her back straightened, as the weight of the world and time were released from it. Hair that had been ratted and gray now flowed like soft silk from her scalp. She turned a beautiful face toward Zoe, cocked her head, and reached out a perfect arm to caress her cheek. The tears Zoe hadn't been aware that she cried fell into her hand, where they glowed before disappearing. Zoe reached for her, but the woman cast her a loving smile and turned and held up her arms to the angel, who gathered her up like an infant. They both dissolved into the light in the same manner the being had arrived.

"I've seen it a couple of dozen times or more, but it never gets old." Saul whispered.

Zoe nodded, the tears stinging her eyes. The moment seemed to have lasted quite some time, but it must have been no more than a few seconds. Hospital staff streamed into the room behind them, bursting into action to save the old woman. _You might as well move on_ , Zoe thought. _She's already been saved_. She wiped her eyes when Saul turned to leave the room so that he wouldn't see and regained her composure as they went back into the hall.

She turned to him, forcing a smile and donning her usual armor of sarcastic humor. "Um... I'll have what she's having?"

Saul grimaced. "First of all – totally tasteless to quote the fake orgasm scene from 'When Harry Met Sally' as you watch someone ascend into heaven. The Big Guy hears all, dude." Saul pointed to the sky.

_Just ask him. The truth can't suck any more than the not knowing_. "Seriously – what just happened in there and why didn't that happen to me?"

"Typical Heaven Ascension. And... I don't know," Saul shrugged and started walking.

_That's it_ , Zoe thought. _This isn't fair. That woman gets to go to heaven and I'm stuck here with the nerdy surfer dude wannabe?_ She stood still, hands on hips, and didn't follow him. "What exactly _do_ you know, _dude_? Frankly, you seem pretty useless so far to me."

Saul stopped and turned around. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm not here to hold your hand through this. It's your job to figure out why you're here and how to move on. I'm just your guide. It sucks that you're dead. I get that. Sucked when it happened to me too, man. But in the end, your soul is your responsibility, just like my soul is mine. I'm not going to do everything for you. Nobody is."

"I don't expect you to do everything for me. I can handle myself. I don't know you and I don't _need_ you. You can do exactly what you've done for me so far. Nothing." Zoe stalked passed him, feeling smug. Until she came to her first door. _Dammit_. He had pulled her by the arm through all the previous doors. She glanced back over her shoulder. Saul came up behind her.

"Problem?"

" _No_."

"Okay," he stepped through the door.

She stared after him.

A moment later, he popped his head back through, "You sure you're okay?"

" _Yes_."

"Cool." His head disappeared.

His arm appeared next, with a turned up palm. Zoe rolled her eyes, sighed, and grasped it. He pulled her through, and she got that queasy feeling again.

"Don't say I never did anything for you. You know, _again_."

"Whatevs."

They walked in silence for a moment.

"I don't know what specifically you did or didn't do to get you here." Saul finally said. "But, if you'd been a really good person, you'd have experienced an ascension. And if you'd been a really bad person... Well, let's just say either way you wouldn't be talking to me right now."

"So, what? I landed somewhere in the middle?" Zoe asked.

"Essentially," Saul stepped through the hospital doors and out into the blinding light of day, pulling Zoe behind him. As she squinted at the noon sun, she remembered the purity of the angel seemingly made of light in the hospital room earlier. These rays glared in her eyes indifferently, and she found herself longing to take the old woman's place in the angel's arms.

"It's up to you at this point to figure out which way you want to go and how to get there." Saul shoved a cell phone at her. "Here. Coordinates for a safe place you can go are programmed into the phone. Take the uptown bus to the Mockingbird exit. My email is in there, too. You can contact me with any questions. But don't expect a long video chat. I'm usually busy playing World of Warcraft and I don't wear pants when I'm at the computer anyway."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute! I'm sorry for what I said earlier, but you're just going to leave me? What am I supposed to do when I get to this safe house? What is a safe house for that matter? And I'm supposed to ride a bus there? Slow your roll, buddy. I don't do public transport."

"A safe house is a place that's considered 'ghost friendly.' It's usually older people with extra bedrooms and zero ability to detect the... supernatural. You can stay there and come and go as you please. It's just a home base. As for when you get there... I don't know, man. You're going to be tired. Take a moment. Rest, get your bearings, etcetera."

"And the bus?"

"You can ride the bus; you will eventually figure out how to move objects. Basically, you can do anything you did in life. It just takes more energy. That's why you have the safe house. It's a recovery place."

"I didn't _ride_ the bus in life. I had a car. 'Dude, where's my car?'"

"It might look a little odd for a driver-less car to be going down the streets of Dallas. You're invisible to the outside world, man."

"So, I'm basically a poltergeist?"

"Do not bring that up. The Big Guy is still pissed about the Amityville screw up. Never should have been used as a safe house."

"Um... What?"

"Never mind. Dude, just go to the house and take some time. We'll be in touch."

Zoe looked at the phone he had handed her. "Hey, will I be able to download Candy Crush Saga on this thing? I was on level 107." She glanced up. "Saul?"

He was gone.

#

As Zoe approached the bus station, she realized with some concern that she didn't actually have any money to pay for the ride. She instinctively touched her shoulder for her purse strap, and started with the thought that she couldn't remember the last time she had it.

Muttering curses under her breath, she turned to make the trek back towards the hospital and retrieve her bag. Her shoes, though by far the sexiest pair she owned and absolutely perfect with the embroidered jeans and lacy top she'd worn to the club her last night alive, were also, she began to think, cobbled in Hell itself. No wonder she'd been ghosted – can't go to heaven in the devil's shoes. Maybe heaven _had_ opened up to take her in, but before she could ascend into the angel's arms (while also becoming wild-eyebrow hair and cellulite-free), Saint Peter had looked down at her shoes and said "Oh no, she must be one of _his_ " and closed the door before all that heavenly air escaped. Or it could just be sacrilegious thoughts like these that had done it.

_Oh great_ , thought Zoe _, I am now going to analyze my every thought for piousness, looking for the great character flaw that kept me here. Eternity is going to be a son of a bi---.... Eternity is going to su--... Eternity... is... AAAGGGGHHHH!_

This last thing she actually said aloud. She kept so busy looking at her shoes as she walked that she hadn't bothered to look in front of her to see just where exactly she went. When she did glance up, she found herself staring at the business end of a baby carriage being wheeled at a super human pace by an overzealous mom. She let out the "Agh" as the carriage went straight through her – a sensation that released 1,000 machine gun wielding butterflies in her stomach who in turn let loose a barrage of 10,000 tiny, prickly bullets all through her insides. It felt like an orgasm gone wrong. As she fell to the ground and grabbed her stomach she swore she heard a deep voice yell, "Hey, watch where you're going lady!" from the direction of the carriage. She turned her head and – did she actually see that? Was there a little tiny fist sticking up out of the carriage? Was that baby... flipping her the bird?

She dragged herself to her feet and watched as the mother stopped running and peered into the carriage. "Is evewything all wight smugly woogly wompkins? Why are we kwying?" As the woman reached in to pick up the baby, Zoe watched, half expecting a tiny grown man to climb into her arms. But she held a normal little baby. This whole thing must have been her imagination. After all, strange things had been happening in the last few days; she could see now that she had cracked under the pressure. She felt sure that she had crossed the line to becoming one of the "crazies." Of course, recalling Saul's revelation about his computer habits, crazy might be the natural state of spirits.

She had to find out if she had, in fact, gone insane. She had to follow the baby. At first she felt creepy following a mom with a stroller, but after a few minutes of trying to look casual and occasionally stopping to pretend to be absorbed in the details of a street light, she remembered that none of this mattered. No one could see her anyway; she was invisible. So she caught up to the stroller and walked next to it.

"About time you caught up," the gravelly voice came from the stroller.

"Um... sorry. I'm still new at this." Zoe said.

"Obviously," the baby responded.

"Are you a ghost too?" Zoe asked, very confused.

"No. I'm a baby," said the baby. "Name's Duke. Although _she's_ always calling me 'Peyton.' She made me a 'Peyton.'"

"Nice to meet you, Duke Peyton."

"I like the sound of that. 'Duke Peyton.'"

"So how come you can talk? To me?"

"Look, I don't know. My name was Duke, I was playing poker with my friends, got a chest pain, there was this light..., came out the other side, got spanked by a doctor, named 'Peyton' and sent home with her." He indicated his mother with a tiny thumb. "All in all, it's been all right, if a little bit of an adjustment. Anyway, I've been talking for months now and you're the first person who's understood me. What are you?"

Zoe threw up her hands. "I think I'm a ghost. I don't know. I was alive yesterday and today I'm... not."

"That would explain the giant hole in your chest."

Zoe looked down. "Crap! I forgot." She did her mental eraser trick again, and the hole receded.

"How could you forget _that_? It made me almost spit up just looking at it."

"Oh – sorry."

"No big deal. Funny how things happen. You're a ghost. I'm a baby. Crazy world."

Duke Peyton yawned. "Look, it's time for my afternoon nap. Nice to talk to somebody. You know, and have them understand me. I'm on Turning Leaf Lane. Look me up. Bye, now." With that, the baby closed his eyes. With them still closed, he murmured sleepily, "By the way, you don't need your purse to get on the bus. You don't need money. Just climb on." With that, he fell asleep.

Zoe walked back to the bus station on autopilot. Once she arrived, she sat for a moment and allowed herself to mentally absorb what had just happened. She felt silly. Of course she didn't need money to get on the bus. When will she figure this out?

When are things going to be normal to her again? And how the hell do you read a bus transfer map?

#

Zoe attempted to step onto the uptown bus. Instead, she walked right through it. How could she do this? She had no clue how a wispy, invisible, non-entity, might step onto a giant, very real, metal tube. She felt as though this bus ignored her like a spurned girlfriend. This bus gave her the cold fender.

She stepped back. _Be solid, be solid, be solid_ , she thought. She lifted her foot to ascend the stairs. It came swooshing down through the bottom step and she fell forward through the bus and onto the ground. She got the sick feeling again as matter raced through her non-matter. She had to lie there for a minute on the ground to regain composure. She heard the doors close and the sound of air brakes as the bus crept forward. She watched as the front wheels moved through her legs. The bus pulled away from the curb and headed for Dallas without her.

"Crap!" Zoe jumped up and began running after the bus, waving her arms over her head. She stopped after only a few feet, defeated. They couldn't see her. In addition, even if they could, buses only stopped in romantic movies starring Sandra Bullock or Reese Witherspoon - never in real life. Even she knew that.

She walked back to the bus station to wait for the next disaster. So far, being a ghost sucked. She couldn't talk to anyone but Saul and apparently babies, no one could see her, and now she had to travel on public transportation. And all of that wouldn't even be so bad, except that _she couldn't even figure out how to use it!_

Hadn't all the ghosts she'd read about and seen on TV been able to materialize anywhere they wanted? Shouldn't she just be able to close her eyes, open them, and be there?

She tried.

She fished the address out of her pocket, read it, and closed her eyes.

"2221 Mockingbird Lane" she repeated it aloud three times. That was how many times every supernatural phrase had to be repeated in the movies. For good measure, she turned around three times too, like she and her friends did when they tried to see Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirrors in middle school. She felt something - something ticklish. She felt it in her stomach and then rising through her chest. _Maybe it's working_ , she thought. She opened her eyes a crack.

She came nose to nose with a man she'd never seen before. His arm jutted through her stomach. She yelped in fear and surprise. Behind her were a familiar "beep beep" and the sound of a small package hitting a plastic floor. She watched as the arm sliced down her body and came out clutching a Butterfinger bar. Apparently, with all of her twirling, she had ended up in front of the vending machine in the bus station.

OK, so teleportation was a no go. At least, she didn't know how to do it yet.

She surrendered to the knowledge that her only option was to wait for the next bus and try again. The sky outside darkened. She didn't know if it was possible for a ghost, but she found herself exhausted.

She walked over to a row of chairs in the middle of the room. As she sat down, she thought about the fact that she sat in a bus station, alone, in Dallas, after the sun had gone down, a place she wouldn't have felt safe in while alive. She had never heard about good things happening in a bus station. The news constantly reported muggings, homeless people dying, and thugs shot over drug deals gone bad in bus stations. She slid her gaze around the cavernous room. There were only a few other people there. An old homeless man sat rocking back and forth three rows down, muttering incoherently under his breath. The guy who had bought the candy bar leaned against a wall, dozing. He looked to be about twenty-something and he had a rope tied from his wrist to the handle of his duffel bag. The janitor, the only other person in the room, swept methodically down each aisle, moving the dirt around more than anything else. Well, unless the homeless man attempted to steal the kid's knapsack and the janitor shot him as he escaped, Zoe thought that she would probably be okay. So she settled down to reflect on this bus problem. She only had 35 minutes until the next bus, and she –

Wait a minute -

If she couldn't get on the bus because of its solid realness, how could she currently be sitting on this chair?

With that thought, she promptly came crashing through it.

And for that matter – how had she landed on the ground?

And with _that_ thought, she started sinking. She reached for anything around her to stop her descent. She watched as her hand went right through the chair seat, and then swiped through the chair leg in vain. She clawed at the ground, but left no mark in the swirling dust at all. Soon she would be completely under the floor. And where would it stop? Being made of nothing, it made sense that she would never actually _land_ anywhere. She could sink through to the other side of the earth. When she came out the other side, gravity wouldn't keep her rooted to the ground the way that it had in life. She would float up, up, up in the air like some Thanksgiving parade balloon. She would end up floating right through the ozone and out into space. She would drift there forever watching the planets go by and hoping that man will someday learn the technology to get a space ship out to where ever she floated so that she could hitch a ride back to earth. Better yet, if gravity did hold some pull on her ethereal body she could just end up as the world's longest yo-yo, being pulled back and forth through the middle of the earth for all eternity. And it was all because she _couldn't get on a fricking bus!_

Not knowing what else to do, she started doggy paddling. She didn't know if it actually helped, but at least it made her feel proactive. She cursed her mother for forgetting to take her to her swim lessons at age eight. A good butterfly stroke just might have gotten her out of this mess.

Then, just as her head tried to descend underground with the rest of her swallowed up form, the janitor rounded the corner on her aisle. He swept ever forward, toward her, swirling dust around and through her head. He stopped sweeping right above her and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a wooden handled, rusty old knife and lunged at Zoe like a man on a mission to play a game of whack-a-mole. Fear shot through her as she raised her arms, pulled herself up and out of the quicksand floor, and rolled out of the way.

When she came to a stop, she realized that _she had just come to a stop_. As she watched the janitor use the rusty knife to scrape at an old wad of gum stuck on the floor, ectoplasmic tears began streaming down her face. She loved that janitor at this moment. He had saved her from falling through the earth and coming out in China. Or whatever existed on the other side of the earth from Dallas. She made a mental note to Google that later.

She stood up and made herself reflect on what had just happened. How had she been able to extricate herself from that literal quagmire? It occurred to her that when she thought the janitor attacked her, she had instinctively gotten out of the way. Since she had been a solid human body not more than 48 hours before, her instinct had been to push against something for momentum. The truth is she had been thinking much too hard on all of this the whole time. She should have just behaved as though she _could_ get on the bus, and then she would have been able to get on the bus. Her problem seemed to be that she acted too much like a ghost and not enough like a person.

When the southbound arrived 20 minutes later, Zoe climbed on like a real live girl. Ten minutes later, a real live boy sat in her. She didn't worry about it so much this time. She moved over, secure in the confidence that she would get this eventually.
Chapter 4

It had been three months since Zoe had arrived at 2221 Mockingbird Lane. She had let herself in the duplex through the front door, moved into the second bedroom, and made herself at home.

The second day she resided in the house, she attempted to levitate for the thousandth time by flapping her arms up and down and jumping. After only a short time, she collapsed into a chair at the dining room table, exhausted. A newspaper on the table caught her eye. It lie opened up to a page with a story about a shooting at a local convenience store, titled "Local Woman Dies Trying to Save Hostages." It told the story about how a woman entered the Circle S in Dallas three nights before. The convenience store was in the middle of a hold up. She strode confidently down the aisle, grabbing a soda from the freezer and appearing nonchalant. Then, unexpectedly, she descended on the gunman with fierce determination. She yelled "Give me..." and threw herself in front of the killer. Before she could finish her sentence, her attacker had already shot her. The article claimed that, "by distracting the gunman, she gave the police the opportunity they needed to get into the store. The gunman was subsequently killed by police at the scene. The hostages feel that they owe their lives to this courageous woman. There was a candlelight vigil at the site of the shooting last night. The attendees sang 'I'd like to buy the world a coke.' The international chain of convenience stores is paying for her gravestone. It will be in the shape of the Circle S logo."

She read the last sentence. _Anyone wishing to honor the memory of Zoe Cargill may do so by donating to "Circle of Hands", a non-profit organization set up by the Circle S Company that re-attaches hands to the arms of people that have lost them._

Zoe groaned. Crap. No one even knows the truth. They don't know that she walked in "confidently" because she imbibed quite a bit of alcohol that night and hadn't even realized that a gunman held the store hostage. They certainly didn't know that she had no clue she spoke to the gunman when she said her last words; that she'd actually thought he worked at the store. And she hoped and prayed desperately that they would never find out that the end of that sentence was "a pack of cigarettes."

That article had totally thrown her off balance. She was not that person. On the one hand, as ways to go out, you couldn't do better than hero, but she still felt like she should hang her head in shame because a lie had been perpetuated that resembled nothing like what had really happened.

She was no _hero_. In life, the most heroic thing she had done was donate plasma, and she had only done that when she needed money. She had never saved anyone. She had rarely really helped anyone. Now the Circle S erected a gravestone dedicated to a memory that wasn't even true? That's it – she would never, _ever_ visit her grave. It would be too much to bear. A gravestone intending to celebrate her heroism (and generate commerce, of course) actually commemorated how much of a dumbass she had been. Her gravestone _should_ be two solid granite ass cheeks stuck up against the car window of life. That's what she had done. That's what she had accomplished. All of these thoughts paralyzed Zoe, and she found herself powerless to move past it.

So, she had done what she always did in uncomfortable situations like this one. She had pretended that none of it had ever happened.

The Lawsons actually made this quite easy. They were an old, sweet couple and she loved living with them. It reminded her of staying at her grandmother's house, even though they didn't know she was there. Hank worked at the Sac N Carry all day while Ethel stayed home and talked to the cat, Shnookems. Zoe enjoyed pretending that Ethel talked to her and would even respond.

"Would you like some breakfast sweetie?" asks Ethel.

"No thanks, I'm fine," responds Zoe.

"You look so pretty today, my sweet girl," coos Ethel.

"Oh, gosh thanks," Zoe blushes.

"Do you think that we should make Hank a special dinner tonight?" Ethel inquires.

And so on....

It almost made Zoe feel human. If it weren't for the fact that occasionally Ethel referred to her – or rather, the cat – as a "fur ball" or her "sweet, fuzzy kitty," she could almost live daily in denial. This was nice.

The only one who had really caught onto Zoe's presence in fact, was Schnookems herself, and she felt sure the cat didn't like her. Oh sure, she acted casual around Ethel, but when she would leave Zoe alone with Schnookems, the cat always seemed to make a special point of curling up right _in_ Zoe. And occasionally she would hiss in her direction for no apparent reason at all.

Zoe realized, after attempting twice to hurl a vase across the room at the cat and failing miserably, that even the slightest attempt at manipulating objects or testing her powers exhausted her. Most of her days were spent sitting around with Ethel and her nights lying, pointlessly, on the bed in "her" bedroom. She had never been one to rise to a challenge, and in fact had not crossed the threshold since her first time to enter the house. She hadn't really learned anything more about her "condition" since those first eventful hours. Last, but definitely not least, even though she felt that she should probably contact Saul, she had not figured out how to use the computer yet.

Zoe found it darkly humorous that she failed at being a ghost just as she had at being a human.

The only hiccup in her otherwise wonderfully boring death were her occasional nightmares. She would fall into them at the drop of a hat. Standing in the middle of the living room, laying on her bed at night, sitting at the kitchen table watching Hank and Ethel eat. Her vision would go spotty first, then the horrible sense of weakness would flood her body, then her world would turn to ice, and the nightmare would consume her being. There were fires, accidents, crimes, and always her killer at the center, causing it all.

The worst one involved a train crash. This one came on like the others, in the middle of a perfectly innocent day. She sat on the couch, glaring at Schnookems as the cat crouched down and wiggled its butt, ready to pounce right in the middle of Zoe.

She shook a finger at the cat, "Don't even think about-" then her eyes went wonky and she was gone.

_A heavy rumbling under her feet caused Zoe to stumble and almost fall. Putting out her arms to maintain her balance, she looked around. She stood on the top of a train. It lurched beneath her as it rounded a bend in the tracks. Somehow, she staid standing, neither the wind nor the constant movement of the reverberating giant beneath her feet toppling her over. Several cars in front of her, she sees_ him _, her constant nightmare companion. He's running towards the front of the train, gliding at an inhumanly swift pace, heedless of his precarious position. Zoe wills her feet forward, feeling like she is plodding through sludge, unable to catch up or match his graceful speed._

In the distance, she sees another train, on the tracks next to theirs, hurdling in their direction at a breakneck speed. "No, no, no, no, no!" Zoe pushes her legs forward, knowing what he's going to do and desperate to stop it. She reaches the front car just behind him somehow, her legs burning from exhaustion. He turns and smiles at her as he leaps, landing gracefully on the ground between the two trains. Each hand finds a track, and with superhuman strength he pulls them both up and out of the ground, showering dirt and metal around him. The two trains derail, heading straight for each other. Her killer is swallowed in the pandemonium. Time slows down, and Zoe watches the two behemoths collide, finally losing her footing as the car she stands on rolls on its side. She comes crashing towards the mess, human screams punctuating the previously still day.

She jerked awake upon landing on the living room carpet, a scream issuing from her own lips. Pushing herself up, she came to a sitting position on the floor, her back pressed against the base of the couch. _It was just a dream, just a dream_ , she told herself, ignoring the aching in her exhausted legs.

Schnookems hissed and spat across the room, his back arched and tail fully fluffed. Zoe wanted nothing more than to throw something at that cat right now, if only to calm her own nerves.

#

Other than the nightmares, she told herself, she was fine. This was all actually working out all right. And the nightmares were just her subconscious attempting to come to terms with her death, she felt sure of it. They would eventually fade and she would move on. Everything was fine.

She made herself believe all of this. That is, until the day Ethel fell. One minute she stood on a step stool in the kitchen with Zoe and Schnookems, trying to reach a platter and talking about what to make for dessert that night, and the next she lay on the floor, moaning in pain.

When Zoe heard the sound of the step stool going off kilter and saw it clattering to the floor with Ethel right on top, she didn't know what to do. The cat ran to Ethel's collapsed form and nuzzled her neck, as though to comfort her. She looked at Zoe and meowed. Zoe felt immediately guilty. What could she do? She couldn't call for help. She couldn't assist in any way. She stared at Ethel where she laid moaning on the floor, wide eyed and stunned. Her leg jutted out at such an odd angle, half under her body and kicked out to the side. Ethel cried now and trying to pull herself with one arm to the wall where the phone sat mounted. Zoe felt terrible standing there and just watching the horrific scene. But what could she do?

Schnookems lunged at Zoe. The cat couldn't actually hurt her, but she sat on the floor at her feet and hissed and spit. Zoe knew this was Schnookems' way of telling her to do something _now_. This startled her enough to knock her into action. She walked to the wall with the phone. Ethel had collapsed three feet from it. Zoe reached her hand to the receiver. She concentrated with all her will and made a grab at the handset. Her palm went right through it.

_Come on, Zoe_ , she thought as she made a few more unsuccessful attempts, feeling like a cat batting at the red dot of a laser pointer. _You can do this. You_ have _to do this._ An insensible moan from the floor underlined the urgency, and Zoe made one more attempt to slap the phone off the cradle.

She knocked it off the wall and it fell to the floor with a clatter. The effort made her dizzy, and she fell to her knees next to the receiver, face to face with an unconscious Ethel. Realizing the responsibility lie solely with her, Zoe used her phantom fingers to press "911". This time, it only took her two attempts before she succeeded, but her hand fell to her side immediately after, heavy and useless. When the operator picked up, she tried to speak.

"What is the nature of your emergency?"

"My grandmother has fallen!" She yelled into the phone. She felt a fatigue come over her like nothing she had ever experienced. _Not right now. Work through it._

"Hello? I can barely hear you ma'am. Please speak up."

Zoe didn't know how she could speak any louder. Her mind clouded and her body felt like a weight dragging her down. She forced her mouth open and pushed unwilling words out. "My... grandmother has... fallen! Please... send help!" She screamed it as loudly as she had ever screamed anything.

"What is the address? And please speak up; we seem to have a bad connection." The operator replied.

_What is the address?_ Her mind felt coated in dust. "2..2..2..1... MOCKINGBIRD LANE!" She knew she screamed, but her voice sounded breathy and quiet.

"We will send out an ambulance immediately. Is your grandmother breathing?"

She spent the next five minutes fighting off oblivion as she screamed at the top of her lungs about Ethel's responses and physical positioning. If it hadn't been an extremely frightening time, she might have found the situation funny. It reminded her of how her mother would always yell over the phone to her grandmother, even though her grandmother could hear perfectly well except for the few moments right after she got off the phone with Zoe's mother.

Zoe ended the call. She collapsed next to Ethel for a moment and allowed her mind to cloud and her body to rest. After a minute, she dragged herself to her feet and pulled a washcloth from under the sink. She ran it under cold water. Even though she expended more energy than she had since dying, she did notice that the more she touched things, the easier it became. _Wait until I'm alone with that cat and a vase again,_ she thought. Lying back down next to Ethel, she put the washcloth on her forehead and allowed the weight of her arm to hold it in place. She watched Ethel's stomach to make sure she continued breathing. When she heard the sirens, she released herself to oblivion.
Chapter 5

Saul slapped the side of his computer monitor for the umpteenth time, demanding its cooperation. Upon realizing it had no intention of responding, he reached up and turned it off. He stared at the black screen for several more minutes, willing it to flash back on and give him the answers he'd been looking for. He grabbed his cell and dialed the 800 number for the fifth time tonight.

Sick of listening to the full menu, he jabbed "0" sixteen times in a row until he heard a familiar voice yelling through the beeps.

"Hey, hey! Are you serious! Give a girl a break!"

Saul put the phone to his ear. "Marcy! What's going on? No new souls for two and a half months?" Lowering his voice, he whisper yelled, as though anyone nearby could hear him. "And now I've lost a soul I was tracking!"

"May I have your security code, sir?"

"You know it's me. Are we still doing this? No, you may not. Tell me what the hell, _no pun intended_ , is going on here!"

Silence on the other end, then a whispered answer. "We don't know. The muckity mucks won't tell us." Louder now, "No sir, you cannot buy your way into heaven."

"What?"

"Sorry, boss was just walking by. Things are tense here, like really tense. No one's talk- it doesn't _matter_ how much money you had in life, sir. God doesn't _need_ money. I mean, come on, where would he spend it, sir? Montgomery _Lords_?" She snorted a giggle.

" _Marcy_!"

"I know! He won't stop walking by! I'll text you la- sir, if you _had_ all that money, why didn't you give it to charity while you were still alive?"

Saul disconnected and threw his phone on the bed. Dazed, he stood up and walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. _What was going on?_ He'd been waiting for a new assignment for months now. He'd had plenty of time to play WoW on his computer as well as perfect some job related software, so he didn't complain at first. But things were starting to get weird.

One minute he had been on his computer, working out the bugs in his new soul-tracking software, just about to call it a day and clock out. He enjoyed watching the blinking lights on the screen, each one representing a different soul, and knowing that he had created software that would enable other shepherds like him to keep tabs on their charges much more easily. The rhythmic off on, off on, off on of the color coded lights filled him with pride. He scanned the screen and counted the green lights. They were the ones who were almost out of here. They were on the right track, were so close to ascending. The yellow lights were either newbies or souls that hadn't fully come around yet to what needed to be done to ascend. The blue lights were the crazies. Nothing really ever changed about them, but they had to be kept up with anyway. Every soul gets a chance to figure it out. Last, but certainly not least, the red lights were the last chance souls. Most would never change from red. They were the baddies. They had been criminals or war mongers or corporate CEO's in life; Saul never knew why they were given a last chance to begin with. But his was not to know why; his was to program and code and make life generally easier for those for whom it was to know why. Or so he'd been told.

And so he created programs like this one and became lost in his own world. _Off on, off on, off on. Off... off... off... Why didn't that one flash back on?_ Souls could only be in one of three places: on this screen, ascended, or descended. An ascension order would have turned the light green, and a dissension order would have made it solid black. They would stay that way until everything was approved and finalized. In no scenario whatsoever did Saul write the code for any light to disappear.

Worse yet, it was a blue light, a crazy. Crazies could cause problems and wreak havoc, absolutely. But you always knew where they were. Right where fate had left them, where their lives had ended. Saul hadn't even bothered to write code for them beyond their little flashing blue lights. There was no reason to plan for ascension or dissension orders, no reason to account for an eventuality that would never happen. No crazy had ever left their location before; he had no idea what one of them might be capable of. Saul almost wished it was a red light. In his extensive comic book reading, video game playing experience, evil had rhyme and their own form of reason. He could predict what evil might do. Crazy, meanwhile, remained capable of anything.

He had to find this dude, before things got bad. He couldn't predict what "bad" might be, but he knew he might be blamed for it, since it happened on his watch. There were other shepherds who weren't excited about Saul introducing technical tools into their jobs; they thought him lazy and trying to create short cuts so he could spend more time goofing off. They weren't exactly wrong on that point, and he knew they would love to use something like this as an excuse to go back to their old pencil and paper ways.

He paced the floor. This was not exactly his area of expertise. There were Hunters out there. They were the ones who ended the Crazies when they got out of hand, when they were wreaking havoc and causing human strife. Saul was no Hunter. He had no idea where to start on something like this. And he certainly couldn't go to the higher ups, not without creating a fire storm. No, better to take care of this quietly and get back to business as usual. But how did he find this thing?

A thought occurred to him; a very dangerous thought. He knew someone who had met the soul, someone who could possibly spot him in a crowd. On top of that, the soul had been very interested in her for some reason. A chance existed that now that it was off the grid it would search her out. Saul tried really hard to not think the actual word "bait." He didn't feel comfortable with that as The Plan, and he told himself that he could keep her safe if or when it came down to it. She was just a newbie, a baby in soul terms, barely standing on her two, wobbly legs, the newborn Bambi of the afterlife. And he was the skunk who was about to get her into trouble. _She can call me Flower if she wants to_ , Saul thought as he closed his eyes and summoned her.

#

Zoe felt a wooshing in her stomach that reminded her of being on a plummeting roller coaster, when her insides decided to stay up at the top for a few more seconds to check out the scenery. She felt vaguely nauseous as she opened her eyes to complete darkness. Is it possible that by helping Ethel she had violated some cardinal ghost law, like in the movies, when you travel back in time and you're not supposed to touch anything or the world will end? Did Zoe just end the world? If so, the end of the world was a lot like living in the TV after it gets shut off. She groped around in the blackness.

She heard a rustle. She didn't think the end of the world should be rustling.

"Hello?" She said timidly to the dark.

"Hello," the dark responded. Zoe's heart plummeted into her stomach, which caused her kidneys to plummet into her knees, which immediately commenced making a kidney pudding.

"Relax, it's me," said the voice.

"Oh," Zoe, whose knees were busily pureeing her kidneys for the pudding, replied, "um.... who?"

"Saul," the voice clarified.

"Ooooooohhh," said Zoe, feeling more lucid. "Um, can you... turn the lights on?"

"Oh, shit! Sorry, I'm not used to company." Saul slapped the light switch on his wall. Zoe almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"Where am I exactly?"

She stood in a room that could best be described as... stinky-sock-like. An unmade, rumpled bed sat against the far wall, dirty laundry carpeted the floor, and a desk against the opposite wall seemed to be the battle grounds for a civil war between pizza boxes and potato chip bags. The posters hanging around the room alternately advertised beer, cars, skin mags, and sometimes, in a trifecta of vice, all three.

Saul looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, "oh, sorry. That's why I don't usually turn on the lights." He ran his hand through his hair, as though straightening that would make the room less offensive. "It's... it's not _my_ room. It's just... my safe house. I use the family's son's room because he's off at college... and I can have free use of the computer. I never have, you know, _guests_. I can't really clean up, might be startling for the home owners, since they don't know I'm here and all..." Saul looked around the room, blushed, and rolled his eyes.

"Crap."

Zoe suspected that he really used this room because he felt at home here. Exchange the vice posters for video game and sci-fi movie themes, and it was probably close to what his room looked like when he lived.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What's going on? Am I in trouble? And, how did I get here?"

"Trouble? No. I morphed you here."

"Morphed?" So teleportation _was_ a possibility.

"I'll explain later. Right now, I... crap. I don't know how to handle this. Oh my God... I... I need help. I've never done this before... I don't even know how it happened. I mean, the light was just... and there was blinking and then there wasn't blinking and... he just...," Saul's voice faltered.

"Saul!" Her voice was shrill; Zoe started at the sound of it. The rest of the sentence came out slowly and through clenched teeth, as though she chided an insolent child for the thousandth time. "What... can... I... do... for... you?"

The phone rang.

Saul looked at it, then at Zoe, wringing his hands. " _You_ pick it up."

"What?"

"Never mind," he gingerly picked it up and placed it to his ear.

The scream that came through the receiver caused Saul to jerk his head back from the phone.

"Look, I know I screwed up," He changed ears and talked in a hushed voice into the phone. Rubbing the assaulted aural canal, he turned his back to Zoe.

"How do you already know? What am I saying, of course you know, you know _everything_. Okay, so I screwed up.... once... in like a what, twenty year career?" He paused, looking up at the ceiling. "I know, a million years is as one second, so twenty years is like a 1/8 cup or something... well, I don't know the years to seconds exchange rate, but to me twenty years is as twenty years, and my numbers have been there.... No, I'm not making excuses, Pete... Sorry, _Saint_ Peter, I just... yes sir... of course, sir..." his voice trailed off and he listened for a few seconds more before hanging up the phone.

"Oh, sure, he was just plain old Pete at last week's poker game, just one of the guys. Now, I screw up, and he's all of a sudden _Saint_ Peter, Keeper of Heaven's Gates, and I'd better kiss the ring, by God – "

The phone rang again, and Saul rolled his eyes as he picked it up. "Yes? Yes, I'm sorry." He hung up and turned to Zoe, chagrined.

"Never bad mouth an all-knowing boss. At least, not when you're already in the heavenly dog house."

"You guys communicate by phone?" Zoe cocked her head. "Can't you talk, like, I don't know, telepathically or something?"

"We can, but then I wouldn't get to hear the pissed off tone in his voice and fully appreciate the predicament I put him in. At least I don't have to answer to _his_ boss. Thank God for small things, I always say. Literally, dude."

Zoe put her hands on her hips, "So, what am I doing here?"

Saul took a deep breath. "I sort of... lost a soul."

"And?"

"And we need to find it ASAP. Or things could get... complicated."

"Complicated as in?"

"Complicated as in... I don't know." Saul threw his hands up and shrugged.

"And you need me why?"

"Well, that's where it gets sticky."

"Sticky?"

"Will you stop doing that? Speak in complete damned sentences and I will give you a complete damned answer!"

"Fine," Zoe smiled condescendingly. "You have lost a soul. There's a complete sentence. You have teleported me here to ask for help finding the soul. There's another complete sentence. So far, all I have learned is that Saint Peter exists, and he is mad. Oh, that's a compound sentence! So, in one final, glorious, _complete_ sentence I ask: what do I have to do with any of this, what do you need me for, when can I go home, and is this a complete enough sentence for you?"

"That one might have been a run on."

"Well, here's some punctuation." She held up a middle finger. "Put it wherever you like."

Saul slumped onto the bed. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I just don't know how to tell you this next part."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Hey, here's an idea: try saying it!"

"I need your help because you've seen this soul before. You'll know who we're looking for. You know, you'll be able to spot him."

"Him? What are you talking about?" Zoe had a sudden flash of her killer's half-soul in Death's grasp. Could Saul be talking about that soul? Is that why he needs her help? Does he know that half of it was... in her? What would they do if so? Her breath came heavy and ragged.

"The thing in the hospital. The one that tried to attack you."

The thought of that creature yanked her out of her thoughts as her head snapped up, "Seriously?"

Saul drew his answer out in a sigh. "Yeah."

"You lost _that_ guy?"

"Well, I mean _I_ didn't lose him. He just... well... I mean," he bit his bottom lip, "yeah."

"The big... thing... at the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"That tried to... end... us?"

"Uh-huh." He didn't make eye contact.

"And you want my help _finding_ him?" Her eyebrows looked as if they were ready to jump off of her forehead and run for cover.

"Yeah."

"I don't want to _find_ him! I don't want to ever see that thing again! He's the stuff of nightmares. Good riddance, I say."

"Well, see, the thing is..." Saul trailed off as he looked at Zoe. "What are you doing, exactly?"

Zoe stood, arms crossed in front of her chest and grasped at the elbows, bopping her head up and down with a jerk. "Is this how you do it?"

"Do what?"

"The teleportation thingy. Like Genie?"

Saul closed his eyes and shook his head, forefinger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. "No."

"Oh! Like _Bewitched_?" She wiggled her nose furiously, looking like an angry rabbit. "I'm getting out of here. There is no way-"

The sound of a thunderclap interrupted her. She stood dumbfounded, as Saul rose into the air above her, arms over his head, flabby belly exposed. Lightning arced from his fingers and a circling wind started, sending dirty clothes and chip bags flying around the room. A once-white sock flew at Zoe. She ducked instinctively, only to have a brownish pair of underwear fly through her face.

Saul's voice boomed in the small space, sounding suddenly unearthly and intimidating. "You will help me, or you will pay the consequences! I have heaven on my side, and a God who does not suffer impertinence! I will have your unquestioning assistance!"

Zoe raised her eyebrows and blinked twice.

"Are you done?" She asked as an old pizza crust spun menacingly toward her. She didn't duck again. It obviously wouldn't hit her, and whatever flew towards her down south was bound to be worse.

The air stopped spinning and Saul slowly descended to the floor, "fine. I give up. There's obviously no reaching you. I can't make you help others."

"Hey!" Zoe stiffened. "It's not about not being willing to help others. I've got my own stuff going on, you know? Kind of a full plate over here, what with figuring out the afterlife and all that."

"I know, I know," Saul held up his hands in mock surrender. "Man, I just hope, for your sake, that he doesn't become part of your 'stuff' to deal with."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You've seen him..." Saul shrugged, "He's seen you... He seemed pretty keen on getting his claws into you. Hopefully that was just a one-time deal, but...."

"Ah, so you're saying he might come after me? Why? Because I can what, identify him to higher ups?"

"Maybe..."

"What's he going to do to me? You've already spilled the beans that I can't be killed."

"By human means, no."

"Wait," Zoe's head shot up, "what now?"

"I told you that humans and other earthly things are no threat to you anymore; that is true."

Zoe went cold. "But that thing _is_ a threat to me? What exactly can it do?"

Saul grimaced, "Let's just say that there are worse things than dying."

Zoe closed her eyes. "Please. Don't make a list or anything."

"Your soul will continue forever." Saul looked down, "either here. Or in the void."

"The void?" An uncontrolled shiver pulsed through her, and Zoe had to sit down.

"I repeat: there are worse things than dying."

"Not cool!" Zoe's insides were jelly, "You're resorting to threats to get me to help you?"

"Not threats," Saul made eye contact and held it, "reality."

"Dude, look, I just need your help to look for him. Once he's found, I'll take care of the rest. You'll be in no danger." He looked to the side, "I can't make that same promise if you go off on your own."

Holding up her hands in a gesture of surrendering, she said, "Okay, okay. If it means that much to you. Just be sure when we find this guy, you do" she indicated the scene with her finger, "that thing you did earlier with the dancing socks. It was... decently impressive."

"Thank you."

She rubbed her forehead, trying to push the fear out of the back of her skull. "What do we do first?"

"I guess we should retrace his steps from the beginning."
Chapter 6

They walked to the hospital, which turned out to be just a few blocks from Saul's safe-house. Zoe took the opportunity to ask a few questions.

"So, if time is of the essence, why aren't we just," Zoe waved her hands, as if trying to perform a magic trick, "morphing to the hospital?"

"Well, between 'morphing' you here and my wasted attempt to scare you, I'm a little worn out right now."

"It wasn't wasted. You were scary. Just not as scary as this thing you want me to help you find. Bad idea, I say."

"Dude, I get it." Saul rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, but I want it on record that I called it. Bad idea. This date and time, Zoe said, and I quote, 'bad idea.'"

Saul didn't respond, and they walked in silence for a moment.

When Zoe couldn't stand it anymore, she said, "So, what'd you do when you were... alive?"

"I'm not really much for small talk, dude. Don't you have any questions about the afterlife I can answer? Haven't you been curious about anything? You haven't contacted me since I left you the first day."

Zoe thought about it. "Okay, yeah. You mentioned being 'worn out.' How exactly do we... recharge? I had an incident right before you... summoned... me and I was wiped out. I feel fine now, but I don't know why."

Saul's eyes grew large. "Aw, man! You're a parasite! No wonder I'm so leeched!"

"Excuse me?" Zoe huffed.

"You must have been using my aura to re-energize yourself."

"No! I think I would know if I was doing that."

"Obviously you wouldn't, since you did." He assessed her out of the corner of his eye. "Wow. You are full of surprises. Takes most souls years to learn that."

"Well, assuming there aren't any other souls around handy for me to 'leach' off of, how will I, in future, go about recovering from the things that sap my energy?"

"There are lots of ways." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "The quickest way is to pray."

Zoe waved a dismissive hand. "Not really my wheelhouse. Anything else?"

"Man, just like with anything else, it takes time. The amount of time depends on how long you've been here and how major the activity you performed was. Things do get easier, and then they don't take as much energy as they did to begin with."

Saul slid his eyes over to Zoe. "While we're asking questions, I have one for you."

"Okay..." Zoe drew out the word, wary.

"How did you just get up and get on an ambulance and follow your body the first night you were dead? Trying to figure this out is making me crazy."

"I don't know." She shrugged, "I just did."

"That's what you said before. But I want to know _how_. Weren't you woozy or out of it or weak?"

"Not really. I felt fine. I mean, you know, except for the just dying thing. I didn't know that wasn't normal behavior." Zoe snapped her fingers, "Oh! Maybe that was it!" She pointed to her brain, "power of the mind."

Saul slid his eyes her direction, "Your mind isn't that powerful."

"Ouch."

"Seriously, most souls are too weak to do much more than wander around the area they died until I get there."

"Well, then maybe it was shock."

"No, everybody's in shock, and nobody has done that before. You also," he waved a hand at her, "glow a little brighter than the other souls."

"Oh my sir, but you do flatter me!" Zoe responded in her best southern belle drawl, pretend fanning herself with one hand.

"I'm being serious! And then this leaching thing. It's weird, man. That's all I'm saying."

Zoe thought about telling Saul about Death and her killer's soul being cut in half and the other half absorbing into her, considered admitting that that might be where her strength comes from.

"So, Death showed up after I was shot."

"To release your souls and pick his up, the guy who killed you, yeah. The Angel of Death arrives to release the soul from the body. He also escorts baddies down the River Styx, just as the Angel of Mercy arrives to escort goodies to heaven."

Zoe felt glad that he interrupted her before she could finish the story. If that soul, destined for hell, bound itself to her, what would happen if she admitted it? The gray area she existed in might become black and white pretty quickly, in a way that she didn't feel entirely comfortable with.

"So, Death is real, huh? What's his deal?"

"What? You mean like is he single?"

Zoe rolled her eyes, "Haha. I mean, where did he come from? What is he? Was he... human at some point?"

Saul shook his head, "Nobody knows. He's immortal and seems to have been around since this whole thing started. Some people theorize that he's Cain, First Bringer of Death, others say he's Abel, The First Slain, but it's just theories."

"So, he could be a super good guy or a super bad guy?" Zoe couldn't help picturing the moment when his scythe had split her killer in two.

"Or, just some dude with a crappy job." Saul said as he entered the hospital.

Zoe couldn't argue with that.

She glanced around as they entered the hospital, getting a terrible sense of déjà vu, like she stepped back in time to the events of her death. As they passed the clean but chipped tiled walls and approached the morgue doors, her resolve weakened. The vivid memory of the monster leaping towards them broke into her psyche, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run the other direction. She glanced a Saul. Phone in hand, he scanned the interior of the hall, biting his lip in concentration. She calmed herself with the memory of him stopping the creature in mid-flight last time. _Who would have thought that this is what a knight in shining armor looks like._

Clapping her hands, she steeled herself for what came next, forcing her memories to the background. "So, what do we do first?"

"We ran into him just outside of the morgue. We'll go back there and see if there's an energy trace or something we can follow. There probably won't be, since it's been awhile, but anything is worth trying, I guess. There might be some other souls around who saw him and can give us an idea about where he might have gone."

"Okay, are you good cop or bad cop?" Saul had prayer, she had sarcasm.

"What?"

"Sounds like we're asking questions, looking for narcs, maybe roughing some people up. I just want to know if I'm supposed to be good cop or bad cop. I want to get into the zone before we start."

"Dude, just be _quiet_ cop." Saul shook his head, "If that's even possible."

Zoe deflated. "Saul, you need to loosen up. Have some fun!"

"I intend to. As soon as we're done with this business, I am going to go back to the comfort of my safe-house and kick some elf butt on World of Warcraft. With that in mind, can we please just get this over with?"

"Fine. If you want to be a stick in the mud. But one day, you-" A wailing sound interrupted her. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Saul continued on in front of her, oblivious to the sounds.

"Those noises." The sounds of what Zoe began to suspect were human wails for help echoed across the concrete floor to where they were standing. "I think they're coming from the morgue."

"I don't hear anything. Morgues are silent. It's why, when people come into a silent room, they say things like, 'wow, it's like a morgue in here.'" Saul stopped to examine the hallway, presumably looking for a trace of their man.

The cries were getting louder as they approached the doors. Words began to form from the screams. _Help me! Where am I? Help me!_

"How can you not hear that?" It became almost too much to bear.

"You can stop trying to scare me, dude. I spend a lot of my time right here. Morgues are just another place I have to go to pick up souls. I'm sorry I'm not wild and crazy enough for you, but this is just silly."

Ignoring him, Zoe poked her head through the door leading into the inner room. Overwhelmed with the screams, she staggered back, covering her ears. _Help me! Mama? Where am I? Honey? Can anybody hear me?_ She felt loss and fear and sadness permeate her being. Tears sprung into her eyes involuntarily.

"Are you still doing this?" Saul asked. "I gotta give it to you, man. You stick to a bit. And that acting is superb."

"Let's keep moving." Zoe shook her head unsteadily, grasping the wall rail.

"You done?" Saul peered down the corridor, ignoring her.

She gave a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah. You caught me. Just clowning around."

"Hmm." Distracted, he scanned the area, going over it with a keen eye. Sighing, he said, "no signatures here, anyway. Figured it was too much to hope for."

As they retreated from the morgue doors, the screams faded. Zoe swiped at her eyes and spared one last glance back as they turned the corner. _What the hell had that been?_

She needed a minute away from Saul to process. "Since we're here anyway, and you seem to have things well in hand, do you mind if I go up and visit my safe-house owner? She had a fall, and they brought her here."

"I know. Fifteen minutes. I doubt I'm going to find anything of use here. I'll meet you in her room."

Zoe felt too addled to ask Saul how he knew about Ethel. Just shepherd stuff, she guessed. When he had gone around the corner and out of sight, she walked back towards the morgue entrance. The sounds came to a crescendo at the doors. Zoe stood outside. Now that she stood here alone, she realized that she didn't really hear anything. Instead, it seemed as if she could feel the cries coming from within the room. She closed her eyes, took a deep, unnecessary breath, and plunged through the doors, Leroy Jenkins style.

She found... nothing. Rufus played some game on his ipad with his feet up on the desk. The room looked neat and tidy, not even a piece of paper ruffled. The ghost nurse kept doing her thing in the corner, but Zoe was used to this by now and took it in as part of the scene. It looked like any other, boring day. Zoe wasn't sure what she had expected to find; hordes of dead people wandering the room maybe. The screams were still coming. Louder now and more intense.

Help me! Please! Where am I?

She tried to triangulate the sound, only to realize that it came from several voices and several directions. Most of them seemed to be coming from the wall of drawers. Drawers which should contain lifeless, and more importantly, soulless bodies. She approached one. As she neared it, one voice became louder than the others. It sounded masculine, possibly older judging by the timbre.

Please! Let me out! Help me!

Zoe concentrated, raising her hand to pull the latch on the drawer. With just a slight force of will, she opened it. An older, gaunt man lay dead inside. But his soul screamed at her from behind his lifeless eyes. Zoe stood mesmerized, and reached in to touch the man.

The drawer slammed shut, and Zoe almost jumped out of her ethereal skin.

"There you go, Mr. Stevenson. Sorry about that." Rufus latched the drawer and went back to his desk. "Things are getting weird around here," he said under his breath.

Zoe collected herself. The drawers continued screaming for help. She didn't know if they could hear her, but she started responding anyway.

"I'll help you! I will!" She yelled, an uncomfortable desperation in her voice. "I don't know what's going on, but I swear I will do what I can!"

The crying subsided. Zoe seemed to have a captive audience.

"Oh... Um..." she didn't know what to say next. She pointed over her shoulder to the exit doors, "I have to go now."

Wailing again. Zoe began to get a sense of what it felt like for people to hear voices in their heads, and why they would do anything to stop them. She pressed a hand to her temple.

"No! I'll be back! I swear! I- I know people." Well, _person_. But _he_ knew people. She saw no need to introduce semantics. "I'll get them to help. I promise!"

The commotion calmed to a few whimpers and cries. Zoe backed out of the room.

"I'll be back," she passed through the doors. Sticking her head back through she said again, "I promise."

#

She had no actual idea where Ethel's room was. Saul would just have to find her. Apparently he tracked souls, so that shouldn't be hard for him to do. Zoe wanted to go see Ethel, though. She needed to sit by her bedside and pretend again, if for the last time, that she was alive and spending time with her grandmother. Things were getting way too real at the moment, and she had a feeling they weren't going to get unreal again for a very long time. Maybe never.

Wandering the halls, Zoe watched life happen all around her. A hospital was the place to go to get a little perspective, that's for sure. She knew that behind each and every one of the doors she passed there a story played out. Babies being born on the top floor, bodies going to the morgue in the basement. And in between, people here to get patched up for one thing or another, sufferers of every disease imaginable here for pain management, support, and hopefully a cure. A hospital is the first building many people enter in their lives, and the last one many people enter, too.

Okay, it was definitely getting too deep in here for Zoe's taste. If she were still alive, this is where she'd be taking a swig from some hidden flask. Or kissing some random guy. Or doing whatever drug sat in front of her at the moment. Anything to avoid the reality that life, and death as it turns out, sometimes sucks, and you sometimes can't do anything about it.

She wandered into a waiting room, plopped down into a chair, and stared at the television for a moment.

As she looked at the screen, her eyes blurred. _Oh, no_. She rubbed them, but when she opened them her vision looked spotty, like a wet windshield when the wipers are turned off. _Come on, not right now. Not right now!_ The world went black.

Crackle: "Hello. This is your captain speaking. We've run into a little turbulence. The flight crew asks that you please fasten your seat belts. We hope to have you out of this in a jiff." Crackle.

She was in the aisle of a plane. A sudden lurch sent her into a bank of seats.

Crackle: "Flight attendants, please fasten your seat belts." Crackle.

The plane continued its thrashing as Zoe stumbled down the aisle. She made her way to the cockpit and walked through the door. Two pilots sat at their posts, fighting for control of the tottering metal tube. Where was he? She knew he was involved with this somehow. If she could find him, maybe she could stop whatever was happening. Anything to stop these nightmares.

Making her way back up the aisle, she searched every face of every passenger, sure she would know his if she saw it. Everyone looked white faced and scared, and no one looked familiar. A quick thrashing of the plane threw Zoe stomach first against another seat. She cried out when she saw him, not that anyone on board heard.

He flew next to the plane, casually slapping the wing every once in a while. He spied her, smiled, and threw himself into the right wing engine.

She awakened herself with her own screams. She slapped a shaking hand to her mouth, willing herself to calm down. _It was just another one of your nightmares. You're here. You're not on a crashing plane. Everything is fine._ The sight of the waiting room and the sound of the TV in the background confirmed these thoughts. She sat in the hospital.

She stood up and paced the room for a few minutes until the shaking gradually subsided. These dreams felt so real; she could swear that she just stood on a crashing plane, just watched _him_... she shuddered _. It's not real. He's not real. You're fine._ She wished someone would turn that damned television down. Did it have to be so loud? And what were they talking about? Breaking news?

"...have just been told that Flight 2242, from Colorado to New Mexico, has crashed in the Texas panhandle. We don't know anything at this moment, but we will bring you coverage as it unfolds here at News 11. Stay tuned."

Zoe's insides turned to ice.

#

Saul had to admit: he had no idea how to go about finding this dude. He grasped at straws coming to the hospital to look for some sort of energy signature, he knew. Getting Zoe mixed up in this had probably been a bad idea, too. Her maturity level left something to be desired, to say the least. He didn't find her particularly capable of being serious, and this assignment was as serious as it gets.

As if to punctuate this thought, he did not find her in Ethel's room. So she ran around the hospital, doing who knows what, completely oblivious to the time crunch they were in.

"Completely oblivious to everything," he muttered under his breath.

At least he had overheard the doctors say that the old bird was going to be okay. He could let Zoe know when he found her, if she even cared.

As he wandered the halls, following her dot on his tracking app, his annoyance with her grew. He had run into her type a thousand times while still alive. Vapid, empty girls who were more concerned about their hair than anything that really mattered. Granted, he almost never talked to any of them, as they wouldn't stoop to his level unless they wanted something from him. Help with homework or computer repair and Saul was their guy. Date to the prom? Not so much.

And now he found himself saddled with one of them. Worse yet, _he'd_ saddled himself with one of them. He had chosen to call Zoe to help him find this soul. He'd like to think he'd done it for logical reasons, but truthfully, he found himself sort of fascinated with her. Not her looks or her annoying personality, but her abilities. He still wanted to know where those had come from. He felt like The Joker, wondering where Batman got those wonderful toys.

He shook his head at the fact that, even in his innermost thoughts, he always played the secondary character. Someone else starred as the super hero. Shouldn't he be the star of his own fantasies? Even he knew that he wasn't the super hero type. He was just some out of shape dude who could do impressive things with gadgets. He was Alfred or Q. He'd always left it to others to be Batman or James Bond.

He rounded the corner and found his newest Double Oh Seven staring at the TV in a waiting room.

"Really? This is where you've been? Watching TV?"

She turned at the sound of his voice. "Saul! I have something to tell you!"

"No," he interrupted, "I have something to tell you. I have been searching this hospital for any sign of our baddie, talking to any souls I encountered, looking for energy signatures, and you've been chilling out in the waiting room and catching up on the latest episode of _Guiding Light?"_

" _Guiding Light_?" Zoe glanced at the TV, "No, I-"

" _I_ don't want to hear it. I don't think I need your help bad enough to have to be your babysitter." He warmed to his speech. "You've got your wish. You can go back to your safe-house and pretend that none of this is happening. I just hope this _thing_ doesn't come looking for you. Won't be pretty."

Zoe looked at him, pointed at the TV, then looked at him again, her facial expression one of confusion. "I... I don't know what to say."

Saul's phone rang. "Looks like you don't have to say anything." He picked it up and turned his back to her.

"Hello?"

"Saul, it's Marcy. I have some news. It's about your lost soul."

Saul's interest piqued, "Yes?"

"Have you paid attention to your tracking app? He's not the only one missing. It seems to be a trend. Boss has us on double shifts, just in case any of them call. He's got somebody putting tracers on the lines so we can find them if they do."

"Are they all...?"

"Crazies. Yeah."

"How are the crazies waking up? Is that even possible?"

"Never happened before. If we knew how to do that, boss would have had people on it this whole time. What the heck is going on here?"

Saul shook his head. "I wish I could tell you. I've been asking myself that same thing all-"

"Just a sec," Saul could hear muffled voices as Marcy covered the phone with her hand. "Um. Wow," She sounded rattled when she returned.

"What is it?"

"It's the crazies. They're... showing up here."

"Showing up there? What does that mean? How? And what're you guys doing?"

"Boss is taking care of it. They're in stasis."

"Are they cognizant?"

"I mean, how cognizant can they be? Some of them have been dead for thousands of years."

"Marcy, are you safe?"

"Don't worry about me. This place is a fortress. Covered in prayers. And the Hunters are on their way to collect the Crazies. I..." Marcy hesitated. "I worry more about you. I hope you're not alone. It's scary out there and we don't know what these souls are up to. Keep yourself safe. And check on your sheep. They're vulnerable, you know. They don't know as much as you do about how to protect themselves. But I know you'll have their backs."

"Yeah," the guilt in Saul's stomach felt like a stone. "Of course. Bye Marcy."

"Bye Saul. Blessings."

"To you, too." _So many blessings to you._

He ended the call, took a deep breath, and turned back to Zoe.

"So, what I was saying earlier..."

She was gone.
Chapter 7

Zoe stalked down the street. _Babysitter? How dare he imply that he had to babysit her!_ She had been doing just fine for months without him. Somehow, she had made it this far without even having to contact him. In fact, _he_ had contacted _her_ to ask for her help finding this missing soul. Then he went and flipped out on her for... for what? She had just been sitting there minding her own business and having a _traumatic experience_ while he did who-knows-what with his damned computer gadgets and phone applications and whatever else nerds use to bolster their self-esteem and make themselves feel worthwhile.

She stormed into the bus station and threw herself down on one of the wooden chairs in the waiting area. Here she sat, two months after her death, back in this same place. _Stupid not knowing how to teleport, she thought. Stupid gross bus station! Stupid Saul!_

She rolled her eyes and settled in to wait for the next southbound bus.

She had always been a screw up; she'd be the first to admit that. But this time she actual tried. She wanted to help. It felt nice being on the side of good and fighting some random evil and all that. It made her feel needed. Stupid Saul made her feel needed. _Stupid Saul! Stupid feeling needed!_

And here she was with a real problem, really needing to talk to somebody, and he turned into a butt-head!

As she boarded the bus, she began considering her problem. Were her nightmares real? If so, did she make them happen, or did she just witness things that would happen anyway even if she wasn't there? She had thought that they were just bad dreams, the remnants of her subconscious trying to make her deal with the events of her life/death. But then the seemingly dead people in the morgue were talking about being in a train, and she had dreamt of a train wreck.

And why were those people's souls still around? Why had they not been released from their bodies like hers had been? Saul had said something about the Angel of Death being involved in that process somehow, or was it the Angel of Mercy? Or both?

This stuff might have been covered in the YouTube "Afterlife Training" videos Saul had emailed her. Zoe realized that she should possibly have opened them instead of surfing Facebook and "liking" her friend's posts. Her account had been closed anyway, due to suspected hacking. People had commented that it seemed in very poor taste for someone to be using a dead girl's account to cyberstalk her friends. In an odd way, it hurt Zoe's feelings.

She found her murderer's presence in all of the dreams unnerving, to say the least. What exactly had happened the night he killed her? For the most part, she had successfully blocked out the memory of Death's grimacing face, the flash of light as he had cut her killer in half, and the half he left behind... absorbing... into her. These were things that her brain could not handle, at least not before now.

But she had to solve this puzzle to bring some peace to the poor souls in the morgue. Besides, something told her that her continued existence depended on it.

She didn't know how much she should share with Saul. He seemed mostly annoyed by her. He might just brush off her worries about her nightmares as further proof that she was only concerned with herself and unwilling to help in the larger cause.

_Stupid Saul! Stupid_ me _for always finding a way to live up to a completely justified reputation!_

Zoe fumed the rest of the way back to Ethel's.

#

_It_ , the thing they were searching for, sat right there on Ethel's front porch. Smoke came from the monster's scarred and bloody nostrils with every exhale. No, it wasn't an exhale, it was a bull-like _snort_. The horns growing in random directions out of the thing's... _torso_? Dripped with... something.... something _green_. Zoe came upon the thing when she rounded the corner, and it stopped her dead in her tracks. _Was it waiting for me? How did it know how to find me?_ Paralyzed with fear, she felt like a hiker in the woods when he comes upon a bear. When you came across a bear, she had read somewhere that you were supposed to clap or scream and wave your arms to make as much noise as possible and scare it away. Unfortunately, she had forgotten for the moment where her hands actually were. Two things she supposed could be called arms dangled from her sides, feeling heavy and wobbly, but she couldn't remember how to use them.

The _thing_ crouched on the front stoop, oddly positioned between Ethel's prized potted petunias and the hide-a-key rock, looking for all the world like some sort of gargoyle lawn decoration from House of Satan Designs. It probably reached eight feet tall when it stood up. Currently, it sat folded, its arms around its legs, scratching with broken, fungus filled fingernails at the crusted-over boils covering its skin. Scanning the sidewalk, it had yet to turn in Zoe's direction. She felt both simultaneous relief that it hadn't yet spied her and dread because she knew that, since her legs had converted to jelly and were melting into the pavement, preventing her from running away, it would soon enough.

Scars broke open on the back of its neck as the skin reacted to his head swiveling back in her direction, the heavy snorting reminding Zoe of some sort of demonic oscillating fan. She smelled its warm breath at the same time as she felt it, gagging from the stench of rotten eggs and sewage. Its eyes landed on her. More accurately, its blood-shot, deathly stare slithered over her. Bugs crawled through the holes in the teeth of its unsightly smile, and it gagged as it tried to yell something with a shorn tongue.

"Glugg gargle graggle!" It told her.

"Spth... fth... rtha..." Zoe responded, feeling sick and wobbly. She willed her feet to back up slowly, so as not to startle the thing. They obeyed, in a biking-backwards-through-the-mud sort of way.

They would have made an interesting picture to a casual onlooker, a bloody and scarred gargoyle snorting at a wide-eyed girl with dead arms doing a horrible moonwalk.

For a terrible moment, both the longest and yet the shortest Zoe could ever remember, they stared at one another.

Then the thing pounced.

Just as fear had frozen her solid, even more extreme fear bestowed her with the ability to not only move, but to jump to the side and scream like a high-heel wearing girl running from the werewolf in one of those terrible B horror movies, a sound she felt sure she had never made before.

"What the fudge!" She screamed in her most girly, high pitched voice, as she raised her shoulders up and brought her fists under her chin, as if to protect her manicure.

She made a mental note to come up with a more effective battle cry and stance.

"Grrgle argle foof!" Shrieked the monster as it landed with a thud in the spot Zoe had just been standing. It turned its large head on her, puffing and growling.

Oh, great. She made it even angrier.

The full mass of its body swiveled toward her, rearing back to make another leap. It launched itself into the air, broken and sharp fingernails flinging and scratching at nothing in the ancient fighting style known as "windmill". Zoe dove to the ground and time slowed down as the monster turned in midair over her, one fingernail catching her on the cheek, breaking skin. Time returned to normal, and the gargoyle came crashing down into the ground, face first. Dazed, it sat back on its butt, head wobbling on its shoulders. Zoe brought her hand to her cheek, touching the stinging wound. When she looked at her fingers, she saw blood.

_What the..._ taking a step back, unsteady, she stared at the red on her skin. She was dead. Saul had told her that she couldn't physically be wounded. Sent to hell? Sure. Voided from existence? Well yeah. But wounded? That was a negatory, she felt sure.

The thing turned around.

"Graggle! Grigg!" It pointed at her, the same nail that had just opened her cheek smeared in her blood. Zoe turned to run, hoping that at the very least, she might wear the thing out. Her foot caught on something as she turned and sent her reeling to the ground. She landed hard and rolled. The source of her fall, a small, furry, chipmunk-like animal scuttled to her side and blinked its large eyes at her. A sound issued from its throat, almost like purring. Zoe stared in horror as the behemoth descending on her ripped the tiny fuzz ball from the ground where it had stood. _It was going to kill that poor, pitiful animal!_ The demon thing squeezed the squirrel in its two giant hands, and Zoe waited for its imminent death, knowing she would be next.

Then she saw it. The tiny, heretofore assumed defenseless creature unhinged its jaw. It then preformed a move that Zoe, being a terrible science student, could only assume defied the laws of quantum mass and other complicated rules governing the universe. The squirrel opened its mouth to roughly the size of the much larger monster holding it, displayed several thousand teeth, give or take, and reared back, ready to swallow the gargoyle whole.

Then it caught a glimpse of the fingernail that had broken Zoe's skin. Time stopped as a four foot long tongue rolled out of its obscenely large mouth and licked the goliath's finger. Blood lust lit up the chipmunk's eyes, and it screamed and shook loose from the monster's grip. Closing its gigantic maw, the furry creature ran up the gargoyle's arm and onto its head and took a flying leap towards Zoe.

She screamed and covered her eyes, not wanting to see her impending doom. She wasn't ready to die... again. But, much like the first time, it didn't look like she had no choice in the matter. Whimpering, she thought about the souls in the morgue. Would anyone else be able to help them? Would they even know they were trapped there? The mystery would never be solved. Worst of all, Saul would probably check her internet history and know that she hadn't watched the YouTube videos. There might have been something in there that could have gotten her out of this mess, something that would have told her how to go about battling a demonic squirrel, or at the very least how to get away from one. Her mother sprang to her mind. She already knew she would probably never see her again, but now she would never get to haunt her, never get to make her feel truly bad about the things she had done.

She thought about the fact that she had been thinking for a really long time, and a monster-lette had not yet landed on her.

Cracking one eye slightly, she moved her arm so she could see above her.

She didn't know how she hadn't heard the commotion before. The thing had never landed because something had attacked it in midair before it could.

The chipmunk writhed above her, locked in an angry embrace with some sort of black, winged creature. Something, perhaps it had been a garment at some point, hung in tatters from its body. The newcomer clawed and grabbed at the scrappy little animal, tumbling through the air, his cloak whipping like a pirate's flag in a sea storm. They started swirling faster. The chipmunk hopped and darted around and on the late arrival. It seemed to be winning, but each time it unhinged its jaws, its opponent shucked or jived, narrowly avoiding being swallowed whole. Zoe stared in shock.

Who was this masked savior? Was he her savior at all, or was he going to go after her when his current fight ended? Would he even win? Would he then fight the gargoyle? Where did the gargoyle go? Should she maybe stop asking herself all of these questions and get the heck out of there?

Just as she jumped up to run... somewhere, the two came crashing down, landing on the pavement where she had just been lying.

The force of the landing knocked the wind out of the squirrel and the creature in the black, tattered wardrobe took the opportunity to pull something from his robes and in one swift motion, swung it over his cowled head. The scythe glittered in the mid-day sun as he brought it down. The critter opened its maw one last time and the point of the scythe ran through the back of its throat. A gurgled scream forced its way from the chipmunk's blood-specked lips, and it grabbed at the blade of the scythe in a desperate attempt to remove it from its target. The death rattle issued from the its mouth, and it shimmered briefly and disappeared, leaving no evidence that it had ever been there.

Zoe fell to her knees and dry heaved. She didn't even know if she _could_ vomit. _Damn those unwatched YouTube videos!_

Her savior sat down on the bottom step of the porch and waited patiently for her to finish.

She slowly regained control of herself and crawled to the front stoop, sitting down with a heavy sigh. She crossed her arms on her knees and laid her head on them. Swiveling her head without lifting it, she looked her savior up and down. He was bones in a robe. No skin, just a skeleton wearing a tattered cowl

"Hi, Death" she said, simply. She felt too tired from her ordeal to be in awe.

"Hello." He responded simply as he wiped down his scythe with a corner of his tattered robe and put it away... somewhere.

"Nice to meet you under 'better' circumstances."

"Hmm"

Zoe sighed heavily, "So are you here to take me? I mean, my soul? Or whatever?"

"What?" Death waved a skeletal arm. "No."

"Okay." Zoe glanced around. "If that other... thing comes back, you're going to get him, too, right?" She indicated the place where she had been scratched. "I mean, I would but I'm wounded, you know."

Death held out one bony finger, touching her cheek with it. She flinched, but then felt skin close and tighten. It felt oddly like getting stitches removed after surgery. She touched her face with her hand, and bringing it away, saw nothing. No evidence of a wound remained.

When he took his hand back, he said, "What other creature?"

Zoe darted her eyes around the front porch and saw no sign of the gargoyle. _Did I imagine him?_ Either way, she didn't want to invite anymore trouble. "Never mind, Death. I don't know." She thought for a moment. "Is that what I should call you? Death? I mean, do you have a name?"

"My name is more ancient than dust." He cocked his skull. "I may have forgotten it. Others definitely have. Does not matter. I suspect we will not meet again."

"Hmmm... Okay." A pause. "So why are we meeting now?"

"Can you think of a better time?" Death indicated with a bony nod towards the place where the squirrel creature's body had been.

"I guess not." Zoe tried not to relive it all in her mind. The shock wore off, leaving her aching and frightened. "But why are you here?"

"I watch you."

Zoe shuddered. She didn't like that idea.

"I know what you are. I know you need a protector."

Zoe looked up sharply. "What do you mean you know what I am?"

Death maintained eye-socket contact. "I think you know what I mean. What I left behind should have withered away, disappeared. But it did not, did it?"

"What you left behind? You mean part of someone's soul? A human being?"

"Yes. Your murderer. Do you mean to say that you care about his fate? Does it not sicken you to know that part of him is inside you?"

Zoe looked away. "I try not to think about it, mostly." She steeled her courage to ask. "Why did you do that, anyway? What did you want from him?"

"That does not concern you. None of this concerns you." Death spoke through clenched teeth. "That is my point."

"Yes, but – "

"I am done with your questions." Death indicated the area where the fight had just occurred with his arm. "There is going to be more of this, you know. This is just the beginning. I cannot be there every time it happens."

"So, why did it happen? What did that... _thing_ want with me?" She almost didn't want to know. She controlled her shaking, but just barely. She wanted to get back inside, to ball up on the couch, to be alone and absorb what just happened. She would not let him see her this way. She didn't want his pity; she shuddered at the thought of him comforting her. His skeletal arm around her shoulder, him smirking inwardly at the knowledge that she was incapable of this task set before her. He would not see her question herself.

He interrupted her thoughts. "You are working against forces you do not understand. If you think you are going to join this battle, save the day and move on... Well, this is just a taste of what you will be facing. My advice? Quit while you are ahead. Or at least while you still _have_ a head."

"Ahhh.. Good one, Death. Never would have thought of you as a jokester." _Please, God, let it be a joke._

"On the contrary. I was being completely serious. This is not your battle. Do not get involved. Go; live out your death someplace quiet. Let the grown-ups take care of the messes. It is our job."

"What do you care if I'm involved? We're all on the side of good, right?" She was on the side of good and scared, but he didn't need to know that.

"What is your definition of good? Are you good because you are helping? Am I evil because I do not want you to? You are helping for selfish reasons, in hopes of being restored to your life, or at the very least to ascend into heaven. I do not want you to help for selfless ones. I worry for your safety, for the safety of any new soul in such a daunting quest. Unlike your shepherd, I do not see the reason to put innocent, uninvolved souls at risk. Did I not just save you? Who is the better person here?" He spread his arms out defensively.

"Hey guy, I get it." Zoe stood up, jelly legs barely holding her weight. "And I appreciate you helping me out and all. You seem like a cool guy, or whatever. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I've been clubbing in parts of the city that you probably frequent quite a bit. I can hold my own," she lied. "And yeah, maybe I'm doing this for all the wrong reasons, but I gotta do what's right for me, you know? So, thanks for saving me and all, that was cool of you, but I gotta go now." She turned toward the door. _And please, get the hell off my lawn_.

The sound of a thunderclap accompanied Death's scythe reappearing. He drove the handle into the front stoop which such force that the ground shook; Zoe struggled to stay on her feet.

"Is this a joke to you?" He screamed, and his cowl fell back, fully revealing his bony face. "This could _end_ you! No heaven, no hell. Only _nothing_. For eternity. Can you imagine existing in the ether for eternity? Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing, a world of darkness and despair? You would _wish_ you were only without a head!"

If she turned around now, he would see the tears on her cheeks, the fright that no doubt showed in her eyes. She took a moment to swallow the wad of fear at the back of her throat and get control of her voice. Her sarcastic tone belied her internal turmoil. She felt sort of proud of herself. "I once sat through a high school graduation for 700 people. I imagine it would be something like that." She squared her shoulders and walked inside. Over her shoulder she said, "And this time, I wouldn't have to wear a stupid mu-mu."

She closed the door behind her and collapsed against it.
Chapter 8

"Bad day?" Saul asked from the couch. The gargoyle sat beside him.

Zoe screamed. Jumping up and down, she pointed at the monster, her hand shaking. "That... that... _thing_! It's bad! It attacked me! Just now! Outside! You're its... its _friend_?"

"Chill out!" Saul stood up and walked to Zoe. Pressing her back with the palm of his hand, he steered her unwilling person toward the gargoyle, her face alternating between a petrified gape and a horrified cringe as they closed the distance.

"This, as far as I can tell, is 'Gork'" Saul said. With a gentle push and in the voice of a first grade teacher he added, "Shake his hand."

Zoe reached out a shaking hand towards Gork's. It came back covered in some sort of goo.

She wiped it on her jeans as she said, "Hi."

"Hi." Its (Saul had said _his_ ) voice was low and he spoke as if his tongue filled his mouth.

"Saul," Zoe looked over the behemoth's shoulder at her shepherd, "Why am I greeting the demon that just tried to attack me?"

"It's not a demon. There are no demons in reality." He scratched his head. "Well, I guess there could be, but I don't know about them. There's a lot of stuff they don't tell me. I'm sorta low on the totem pole, dude."

"Saul! Point please?"

"Oh, sorry. This is A Crazy."

"How is this A Crazy? I thought Crazies were human ghosts that were reliving their deaths over and over? This thing is not human."

"Dude, how do you think you might look after several hundred years of reliving your own death? Anger and bitterness changes you. It's a fact." Saul punctuated his point with a head nod in Gork's direction.

Zoe slid around Gork, keeping her eyes on him the entire time.

"But, he has _horns_. That's kind of demony if you ask me."

"Yeah, I think he died by being gored by a bull or maybe an elephant. Could have even been a mastodon for all I know, man. Depends on how long he's been dead. I think those are the horns of whatever it was." Saul touched the tip of one of them. Gork yelped and slapped his hand away.

"Hey!" Saul yanked his hand back.

"So, why is he here?"

"Yeah, it's wild, dude. The Crazies are... waking up."

Gork shifted his large body back towards the couch, head passing through a low hanging potted plant as he went. He let out a growl, reached his large fists up above his head, and punched the basket containing the offending fern. It reeled back, then came hurtling back toward his head again.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Um... Waking up? What does that mean?"

"Don't know yet. Looking into it. But something is waking them up, man. They started showing up at home office a couple of days ago. None of them know what they are or what they're doing. We started putting them on assignments. This one was sent here to protect you."

Gork turned his bug filled grin to Zoe, swelling up with pride, until the plant veered through his head on the back swing. He turned and ripped it from the ceiling.

"Protect me? The thing that is currently in a fist fight with a potted plant? Good choice! And P.S. It was coming after me!"

"No, it was going after the thing that was _behind_ you that was about to attack you."

"Oh yeah," Zoe shivered involuntarily at the thought of the squirrel-like thing with the thousand toothed mouth that seemed to arise from the fourth dimension. "What the hell was that? That thing was _never_ human."

"Yeah, I think that was a squirrel that had been hit by a car."

"OK, do what now? Squirrels can be Crazies?"

"No, it's more like an energy signature. Squirrel must have been hit recently."

"So, I was attacked by a pissed off rodent?"

"Think about it, dude. You're hungry, you haven't eaten in several days, and you finally spy a nut across the street. You start across completely innocently, and BAM!" Zoe jumped when Saul clapped his hands together, "you get hit by a car. That sucks, man! Of course you're pissed! And you leave an energy signature behind that's sort of... capable of things."

"So, this angry energy attacked me in the form of something cute and fuzzy with a mouth the size of Cleveland, and Gork here was an innocent bystander just there to save me?"

Gork currently wandered the living room, carrying the potted plant under his arm and munching on the spoils of his recent victory. He popped a decorative pine cone from the fern's soil into his mouth and crunched loudly. The cone's scales passed through his body and fell to the floor as he walked.

Saul gave an embarrassed shrug. "That's what he was sent to do."

"Well he did a crappy job. The only injury I sustained came from _him_."

"Injury?" Saul looked her over.

"Well, Death healed it."

" _Death_ healed it?" Saul seemed surprised.

"Yeah. Which reminds me – you said I couldn't get hurt or killed again or whatever!"

"Nu-uh, Dude. I said you can't be hurt by anything on the earthly plane. Like a bus or being struck by lightning or shot... again. You can absolutely be hurt by other ghosts or things on the ethereal plane. All of this was in the YouTube videos." He raised an eyebrow at her, knowingly. Zoe looked away, blushing. She felt like she sat in class at school having forgotten to do her homework and being stared down by the teacher.

"Well, I've been busy..." She trailed off.

"Uh huh." Saul rolled his eyes. "Back to this Death thing. How did Death heal your wound?"

"I don't know; he just touched it."

"I don't mean the actual how of it; I mean when did you see Death?"

"Just now. How do you think I avoided being killed by the squirrel?" A sentence never before uttered, Zoe felt sure of it.

Saul turned to Gork, "Oh, so that's why you're in here. I thought you'd warded the thing off?"

"Glkk glob glbb" Gork responded, mouth full of cone of the pine variety.

"You were getting to that part, man? Sure, sure."

"You can understand him?" Zoe asked, incredulous.

"Some of it. He's got his own way of communicating. I'm picking it up. Seems he's scared of Death," Saul's eyes slid to Gork in an accusatory manner, "so your protector hi-tailed it as soon as he showed up."

Gork coughed and splinters of pine cone flew out of his mouth. He then made a show of scratching the boils on his arm and being fascinated by the gunk that came out of them.

"What was Death doing here, anyway?" Saul asked.

"I think he was here to warn me about getting involved with all of this. Said that there were 'dire' consequences."

"What does Death care if you're involved? Why would he be threatened by _you_?"

"Hey! I am a force to be reckoned with! I held my own out there!"

Saul raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sort of."

Saul looked her up and down.

"OK, fine. If it was possible for a ghost to pee her pants, mine would be soaked right now. But obviously I've got something going for me, or he wouldn't have been there!"

"Obviously" Saul said, not convinced.

"Well, I didn't see _you_ out there helping!"

"Hey, man!" Saul held up defensive hands, "I just showed up a minute ago, and I thought _this_ guy," he threw a thumb in Gork's direction, "had saved you from the evil rodent!"

"Well, you didn't check on me or anything." Zoe whined.

"I thought you were just out there collecting yourself. Sorry." He sounded mostly sincere, a fact that just served to remind Zoe of the anger she still felt toward him. He owed her an apology for more than that.

"Why are you here, Saul? I thought you were sick of 'babysitting' me? I can handle myself..."

"All evidence to the contrary."

" _I can handle myself_. I don't need you around, no matter what the situation may be. You just make me feel bad about myself. I don't need that in my life, or death, or whatever. So why are you here, and what do you want?"

Saul looked at his toes. "You're right. I'm sorry. I jumped on you earlier because I was annoyed about things outside of my control. I took that out on you. I'm sorry."

"Look, let's be honest. We're not exactly each other's choice company. I know you would prefer to be dealing with this problem with your computer buddies or someone else you think is more on your intellectual level, and I would prefer to not be dealing with this problem at all. But it is what it is. Can we just agree to get through this? Then we never have to see each other again if we don't want to."

"I didn't mean to..."

Zoe held up a hand. "Let's just get through this."

"Okay. Cool."

"So, what's the new development that brought you back to my door?"

Saul fidgeted. "You're not going to like it."

"Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. I just fought with an Evil Fuzzy and met Death. Nothing you could say at this point could possibly faze me."

Saul took a deep breath. "When I was at the hospital, after you left, I sort of found something out. Your mom's name was Susan, right? Same last name as you?"

"Yeah," Zoe felt a chill.

"Yeah, she...died today."

Zoe sat down hard. For a minute, her eyes clouded over and she thought she might pass out. She reached an unsteady arm out for support, and found Gork next to her on the couch. She didn't yank her hand away at his slimy touch. She would take anything she could get at this moment.

"Wha-" she said, her voice quivering.

"Yeah, um, sorry and all. She was at the hospital having surgery. She died on the table. I saw her name on the surgery list... went to check on her... heard them pronounce it."

Some of the words were floating through Zoe's head. She couldn't comprehend most of the words tumbling from his mouth, like she had a first year exchange student's ability to understand English. The words "Mom" and "dead" only vaguely recognizable, she stared at them in her mind and willed them to take some meaning other than the ones she currently could remember. The word surgery floated in, and she repeated it out loud.

"Surgery? What was she having surgery for? Was she sick?"

"Yeah, well... Dude, I don't know how to tell you this... When you died, your mom sort of sued anybody and everybody in sight she could think of to blame. She won a bunch of settlements."

"Surgery?" Zoe repeated again, willing the word to take on meaning.

"Yeah, she was using some of the settlement money to get... liposuction." Saul cringed with the last word.

Everything came together in Zoe's head at once. Her mom died. From complications in surgery. Liposuction surgery. Liposuction surgery she got with the money she made from undoubtedly frivolous lawsuits over her daughter's death. Yup, that made sense. That was classic Susan. Zoe would expect nothing less. She started laughing.

As her body began to shake, Gork patted her back.

Saul stood, fidgeting and attempting what Zoe assumed were supposed to be comforting noises, but they came out sounding like he tried to clear phlegm from his throat. Zoe finally took her head from her hands and looked up at him.

Saul stared at her, a shocked expression on his face, as she laughed. Granted, she cried too, but mostly from laughing so hard.

In a vain attempt at sounding light hearted, he said, "It's a good thing you're taking it this well, because there's more."

Zoe had the hiccups from laughing so hard. "More? What more poetic justice could there be? This is hilarious!"

"OK... Well, your mother isn't... gone."

She abruptly stopped laughing. "What?"

_Was her mother stuck in her body like those other people from the morgue?_ The thought of her mother's half lipo-sucked body lying on a bed somewhere with her soul trapped inside sobered her up for a minute.

"Her soul has not been released. Death never showed. Turns out, he hasn't been showing at all lately. That's why I was surprised when you said you saw him. We haven't received any souls since you came along. No one knows-"

"Saul! Point?"

"We don't know where your mother's soul is..."

"I know exactly where it is!" Zoe doubled over laughing. "I just need to know: did they get her fat out first?" She buried her head in her hands, shaking from mirth. Gork continued his awkward back patting, and Saul stared.

He obviously thought she reacted strangely to this.

"What do you mean you know where it is?"

"We've really got to talk," Zoe stood up and wiped her tears away. "Oh, and Saul? You should have front loaded the conversation with that. I needed a good laugh today."

Saul bowed up, seemingly physically bracing himself for what she might tell him.

"You know how you're always impressed by these things I can do, that you say I shouldn't be able to do?"

"Yeah?"

"Well..." Zoe filled him in on everything, from the events of her death to hearing voices to her nightmares.

Saul had to sit down now. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes.

"You were having... nightmares... and you never told me?"

"I thought it was just some strange thing that happened when you died. I didn't know it wasn't normal until today, when I woke up and saw the news."

"And you're sure they are coming true?"

"No, but there are a couple of coincidences that seem concerning. The souls in the morgue talked about being in a train. The plane crash happening at the same time that I had that vision."

"Your killer is in all of these visions?"

"So far, yes."

"And you think it's because you are linked to him in some way?"

"I don't know. I mean, what the hell was that anyway? Does Death not always cut souls in half? Ease of transport or something?"

"No, he kinda needs all of the soul to take to the River Styx. No man left behind and all that."

"Well then, yeah. I guess I might have... absorbed... half of him." Zoe shuddered. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea, man. Visions, voices, Death performing magic tricks... We are way above my pay grade at this point."

"So what do we do?"

"I think we're going to have to call my boss." He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Yeah, there's been a," he glanced up at Zoe, "development."

She didn't know if she liked being called that.

#

Saul left a few minutes later with one parting sentence to Zoe. "Get to know your bodyguard. I have a feeling you're going to need him." And to Gork, "You. Stay."

Zoe sat on the couch, staring at her protector. She didn't know much, but as she watched him munching on his pine cones, she thought that the higher ups could probably have come up with someone better. Not only was he very uneasy on the eyes, she thought as another bit of slime dripped from one of his horns onto the floor, he was totally inept. She hoped no other fist fights broke out while Saul was gone.

Shnookems had taken to Gork right away. She wound in between and around his legs, purring. Zoe didn't know, considering her history with the cat, if this stood as a point in Gork's favor or against it. As she considered this, Gork cocked his head at the floor, as if noticing the critter for the first time. He bent down and scooped the cat up. Zoe jumped from the couch, ready to save Shnookems from the behemoth's claws. Gork pressed his head to the cat's, and using a broken and jagged fingernail, scratched her under the chin. The two purred at each other. Great, her bodyguard was obviously a lover, not a fighter.

Zoe relaxed into the couch. At least she felt momentarily safe. Not because of Gork, by any stretch. More in spite of him, actually. Saul blessed the house to protect it from anymore evil signatures before he disappeared, so she felt like she had time to ruminate on things. So as not to talk to herself, she talked to the only other "person" in the room.

"Well, Gork. My mother is dead. No longer walking the earth. Shuffled off from this mortal coil."

"Glurb," Gork responded. Shnookems meowed.

The truth was, however she tried to think about it, the fact wouldn't sink in. "Whatever else my mother was, and that was many pretty terrible things mind you, she also lived like no one else." Zoe smiled. "My mother could fit an entire life's worth of living into a long weekend."

Gork snorted, encouraging Zoe to go on, or so it seemed to her.

"It's true. In the five minutes that we've known each other, I can't believe that I never told you the story of the night my mother threw a party at a bar that was closed for renovations. You see she had the key. Because she was sleeping with the owner. So she just used it one night and let herself in. A few hundred people came by and the next thing you know, there's a band playing and she's charging for drinks _and_ a cover."

Shnookems jumped onto the couch next to Zoe, and she began absent mindedly stroking the cat.

"When the owner found the mess the next day, he knew exactly what had happened. But, and here's the beauty of my mother, he couldn't do anything about it. Because he was married. He knew if he pressed charges or even confronted my mother, his wife would find out. So he just pretended like nothing had ever happened."

The rest of the story flooded Zoe's brain. "She used some of the money she made to buy me school clothes. First year I ever went to school in new clothes."

Gork sat down on the floor in front of Zoe and patted her knee with one giant, slimy hand.

Zoe looked at her lap. "And now her soul is very probably trapped in her body, screaming for help like the people from the train, wondering what's happening and where she is, scared."

She shook her head. "No!" Her yell sent the cat skittering off the couch and behind Gork's massive frame. "I refuse to feel bad for her. She may have bought the clothes, but she certainly wasn't there the first day of school! And, she died while getting _liposuction_ , as if there ever has been a more useless surgery. It was her choice to have it. If she had just left well enough alone and not gone sniffing after money she had no right to, she'd still be alive, living it up at some bar or club right now." Zoe warmed to her speech, finding herself in more comfortable territory.

"You know, I wonder how many late night establishments will suffer financially from the loss of income now that Susan Cargill will no longer be gracing their bars on the weekend. Other than them, is there anyone in the world who'll miss her?" Her brain came up empty.

But her holier-than-thou snort cut short when she realized that the same could be said of her.

"Dammit!" Zoe stood up and started pacing. Gork lumbered behind her. "Why am I having these feelings? My mother was not there for me. A fact is a fact."

She turned, ran right into eight feet of goo, horns, and gross, and collapsed against Gork. He patted her back, leaving a slime trail Zoe could feel. She didn't care. The tears came, without her understanding what they were coming for, but she let them anyway.

When she finally regained control of herself she said, "I'm going to have to find her, aren't I? Why is my death so freaking complicated?"

She pulled away from Gork. "Sorry, I snotted on you. Right there." She pointed. He looked down, whimpering.

"Or... there?" She pointed to a different slimy spot.

Gork brushed at his front and looked back at Zoe, questioning.

She had no idea.

"Yeah, you got it, buddy."
Chapter 9

Saul materialized before her, and Zoe quickly wiped her eyes.

"You're not going to like this." He rolled his eyes, "hell, _I_ don't like this."

"What?" Zoe asked.

"We have to go see the boss."

"Okay?"

Saul grabbed Gork by one hand and offered the other to Zoe.

Zoe took Saul's outstretched hand with concern. "What am I not going to li-"

She could only describe the feeling as _wooshing_. Before she knew it, they were off their feet and all around them the air _wooshed_ them up and around. Trying to make sense of the spinning world, Zoe willed her eyes to focus. She heard Gork whining like a scared puppy, then belting out a nervous howl.

Over the din of the wind and Gork's noises, she heard Saul say, "You might want to close your eyes. It'll probably make you sick if you don't."

"Okay," she gave in.

She was glad that she did. The moment her eyes were closed, something foul smelling and wet hit her in the face. _What the hell was that?_

"Gork, close your mouth!" Saul yelled, "We're getting drenched!"

Zoe gagged. "Seriously? Was he-"

A jolt of fear interrupted her as the powerful wind tried to wrench her hand from Saul's. He grasped it tighter, and a moment later she felt something being wound around her wrist. "That should hold us!" he yelled over the ever increasing tornado-like noise.

"What's happening?" She could barely hear herself over the sounds.

"I told you; we're going to see the boss!" Saul yelled back, "Shouldn't be too much longer!"

"Is this how you all travel? This is-"

The calm fell like a heavy curtain, and Zoe found herself screaming "-crazy!" into the quiet.

"You can open your eyes." Saul said.

She did. The trio stood in the glass walled lobby of what appeared to be a giant office building. Gork fell to his knees onto the floor and started kissing the marble. He lay down as flat as the horns in his torso would allow, arms out and legs splayed. "Are we still on earth?! And what's he doing?!" She chucked a chin in Gork's direction.

"Yes. And presumably he's happy to have his feet back on the ground. This is new for him, too."

"Okay! So where _on_ _earth_ are we?!"

"Pyongyang."

"What are we doing in Vietnam?!"

"Korea."

"I was guessing."

"I know. We are at the bosses headquarters. And everyone is currently staring at us because you are screaming and I..." He indicated his lower half and began unwinding his belt from around their arms.

She looked over at him. "You just hate wearing pants, don't you?"

Saul yanked his jeans back up and threaded the belt through the loops, securing it into place. Wiping Gork's spit from his face, he threw a sarcastic "Haha." In Zoe's direction and approached the giggling receptionist behind the large mahogany desk. "We're here to see Peter, please. We have an appointment."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow over the desk, nodding towards the heap on the floor.

"Yes? He's with us." Saul had never sounded more nonchalant.

"I'll have to confirm your appointment. What's your security clearance?"

Saul shared the information she asked for. The receptionist motioned for them to wait in the lobby.

"Are you going to get _him_?" Zoe referred to Gork as they walked towards the chairs.

"No, dude, you are. He's _your_ body guard. You need to develop some kind of relationship with him. Liking someone is a good motivation for wanting to save their ass."

"Yeah, because he did such a great job last time."

"Case in point. He didn't like you then, man."

"Fine." Zoe rolled her eyes and walked over to the heap lying on the floor. She ignored the stares they were getting from the people entering the building who were having to step over and around them. "Um... buddy? We have to get up now."

Gork looked up at her, but made no move. Meanwhile, the people in the lobby were staring and pointing, and the whispers were getting on Zoe's nerves. One man entered through the sliding glass doors and glared at her as he stepped over the prone figure.

"Get your dog under control," he muttered under his breath.

"Get your personality under control," she yelled back after him.

She hated to admit to herself that the guy was right. This was sort of ridiculous. "Gork! Get up! You're embarrassing me," she hissed at him.

He rolled away from her, whimpering.

Okay, the tough guy approach wasn't working. Time to try something else. She looked around on his body for a place that looked safe to touch. After several bad choices that left her covered in goo or poked by something sharp, she settled on his upper arm. She rubbed it the way her mother used to rub Zoe's back when she tried to get her to calm down and go to sleep. "Everything's fine. We're safe and sound. Time to stand up and act like a big boy now."

Gork shook his head vigorously and turned it back towards the marble floor. Zoe noticed that the claws of both hands were firmly dug into the grout around the expensive tile. It gave her an idea. "Do you want to take that with you?"

A thoughtful look flashed across Gork's face, then a slow nod.

"Okay, honey. You just pry that right up. That way, no matter what happens, you'll still be touching the ground. Does that sound good?"

A faster nod.

"On the count of three. One... two... three!"

Gork dug with both claws under the marble tile piece and freed it from the floor in a hail of plaster. Hugging it to his chest, he stood and lumbered after her to the waiting area. The receptionist yelped, but a menacing look from the monster cut her short.

"Hey, lady. Do _you_ want to babysit him?" Zoe asked as they passed the desk. "It's not as easy as I make it look."

Saul sat slumped as low as possible in his chair, hand over his eyes. "Really, man?"

"Hey, whatever works. He's off the floor, isn't he? In a manner of speaking, anyway."

Gork sat down in the opposite chair, never loosing his hold on the floor tile. Zoe couldn't tell for sure, but she thought he might have grinned at her. This made her feel better than she wanted to admit.

#

Zoe wandered the place and checked it out as they waited. The lobby of the office building stood two stories tall, a glassed in cylinder with a large atrium roof. With its slick marble floors and custom carved mahogany, it looked quite impressive, to say the least. Outside, she could see a busy street leading straight to the front door, but all the cars turned onto the parallel avenue that wound around the building without even an acknowledging glance at the structure, as if they didn't know it stood there. There were many people coming and going; most seemed to appear just outside the door and disappear in the same spot upon leaving.

"Curious?" Saul asked, coming up behind her, Gork at his heels.

"Well, yeah." Zoe peered up at the seemingly never ending windows that spider webbed over the atrium.

"Ever heard of the Ryugyong Hotel?"

"No..."

"Not surprising, since it was never opened." Saul raised an eyebrow.

Zoe glanced at him, incredulous, "We're in a giant, gorgeous hotel that never opened?"

"Best, most perfect safe house in the world, dude. The North Koreans are so embarrassed _slash_ used to seeing this giant unused thing on their horizon that they ignore it completely. It's been declared officially unsafe, so no one ever comes in here. Head honchos have officed out of here for thirty years or so."

The receptionist approached them. "He's ready to see you now. Floor 105. Enter your security clearance at the elevator." She eyeballed the marble tile that Gork still hugged to his chest.

"I wouldn't take that from him if I were you." Zoe told her. Gork swiveled his back towards the annoyed office worker as he lumbered by, like a child afraid to have his toy taken away.

When they reached the elevators, Saul typed something into a keypad on the wall. The doors of the nearest lift swished open, and the three got on board.

"It's a good thing none of us is alive." Saul said.

"Why?" asked Zoe.

"The air pressure is going to get tricky. Our ears would probably pop until they bled."

"I think I see why this place has been declared unsafe."

"Gotta love shoddy workmanship. Gives us a place to call home."

Gork drove his claws into the mahogany hand rail the moment the elevator began its rumbling ascent.

"It's okay, big fella." Zoe soothed him.

"You're getting pretty good at this," Saul complimented her.

"He's just a simple galoot." Zoe responded. "BTDubs, we don't have to _pay_ for all the damage he's doing to this building, do we? Does heaven use money? Shemps or something?"

"Shemps?"

"I don't know. I thought I heard that's what Hebrew money was called."

"No, that would be _shekels_. And we don't have to pay for anything, with shekels or my least favorite member of the Three Stooges. God is an all knowing, all _repairing_ God."

Zoe watched the numbers on the display panel as they rose higher and higher. It dinged at 105 and the doors slid open to reveal a giant, glass walled office.

A man stood in the middle of the room, facing the elevator. Piercing brown eyes evaluated them from under a mass of dark hair. The beard on his chin matched in color, but both were shot through with gray. He wore a flowing white robe, and his hands were clasped behind his back. His slender, rigid frame somehow filled the room.

"Zoe," Saul gestured towards the man as they stepped from the elevator, "this is Saint Peter."

_Well_ , thought Zoe, _doesn't he look all bible-y_. For once, she didn't voice aloud this tactless thought that popped into her head. She thought Saul would be proud if he knew of her triumph over her tongue. Then, for reasons she didn't understand, she _bowed_ to St Peter.

Saul burst into laughter.

"What?" Zoe stood up, embarrassed. "I've never met a _saint_ before. What was I supposed to do? Kiss his ring or something?"

"No, my child, you do not have to 'kiss' anything on me." Peter spoke in a soft tenor, calm and comforting. "Saul is just not used to seeing someone show respect."

"No, dude. I'm not used to seeing _her_ showing someone respect."

"And I ask again, as I always do when in your presence: what is a _dude_?" Peter sighed.

"It's just a word I use."

"Refrain from it." Peter waved a hand toward Saul.

"Really, phlb," Saul made a gagging sound. "Are you serious, glk... ghkk.. gubub..." He sounded like a cat with a hairball. "Did you just voodoo my tongue? Again? Are you for real, man?"

"I am real; I was once a man. So, I suppose I am a man 'for real.'"

This time, Zoe burst into laughter.

"And, who is your friend, here?" Peter gestured toward the still open elevator and a whimpering Gork inside, clinging to the railing.

"One sec," Zoe returned to the lift to retrieve him.

It took some cajoling, but Gork finally yanked the banister from the wall and exited the box. He approached Peter, and he too, bowed.

"Rise, my child." Peter indicated the pieces of the building that Gork carried. "Are both of those... ours?"

Gork hugged them closer.

"Souvenirs," Zoe responded. "It was either that or leave him in a quivering mass at your front door. The trip here kinda scared the crap out of him." Zoe slammed a hand to her mouth. From between the fingers, "sorry, father. I mean scared the heck out of him... I mean, scared him to death... I mean... it was a frightening time."

"It is okay. And I am not a father. I was a brother once and I continue to be a son, but I am not a father."

Zoe found his calm and archaic way of talking both irritating and profoundly awe inspiring, a combination she would not have before thought possible. "Okay, well, what do I call you?"

"Shall we try Peter?" He indicated a group of chairs near a window for them to sit down at.

"We shall," Zoe attempted something like a curtsy as she walked to the offered seating. _What am I doing? What is wrong with me around this guy?_

As they settled in, Peter said, "Tell me, from the beginning, what has happened. Leave nothing out."

"Okay, grgle," Saul hacked again. "You don't realize how much you say a word until you can't!"

"You will be all right," Peter assured him. "Go on."

They told him the story up until this point. Peter interrupted very little, taking most of the information in quietly with his fingers steepled against his lips. Gork sat in his chair, hugging his hardware, until the battle on Ethel's front porch came up, at which point he hid his face and began howling. Peter silenced him with a light touch on the shoulder, and a look of serenity passed over the monster's face.

When they were done, Peter said, "It sounds as though we must find this young man. Your killer." He nodded to Zoe. "We will have to use your visions to do it."

Zoe nodded, looking cooler than she felt about the whole thing. She didn't look forward to another one of those episodes.

"I should be able to keep you calm and more present during one, allowing us to use the clues of what you see to tell us his location. Then we will go there and confront him."

"Yes, but what do we do when we find him? No one is dying, souls are being trapped in their bodies, and Death obviously isn't going to take him to hell..." Saul trailed off.

"That I am not sure of, yet," Peter looked reflective. "However, I think I will know in my bones."

"Does that mean something?" Zoe asked, after a moment of silence.

"I think we must steal one of my bone fragments. If we are able to injure him with it, I believe my bones will know where to send him and will be able to do so on their own. I am, after all, keeper of Heaven's gates. I do decide who passes and who... does not."

"And when this happens, the part of his soul that I'm apparently in possession of will... what? Revert to him? Take me with him?"

"I cannot say." Peter responded. "But I will be there and I will do everything in my power to make sure you are kept safe."

"Okay... Let's say for the moment I believe you and am willing to go along with this. Where are these bones? Do we just need to go dig up your grave?"

"It is not as simple as that."

Saul sighed, "No, it's not."

Zoe looked from one to the other of the silent men. After a quiet moment she finally asked, "What does that mean?"

"Looks like we're breaking into the Vatican."

"Oh, yeah, of course, 'cause like, why wouldn't we?" Zoe replied.

The three made a plan. They agreed to allow Zoe to go back and see if she could communicate any further with the dead in the morgue. Zoe silently figured she'd use the chance to look for her mother as well. Not that she cared all that much, but she might as well console her, too. Saul was going to do some research on the Vatican to find out specifically where the bones were kept. Peter would get things covered in home office and meet them all back in Dallas tomorrow.

As soon as they stepped onto the elevator, Gork had reattached himself to the remaining opposite railing, and the doors had closed, Saul screamed at the top of his lungs.

"DUDE!!!!!!"

He collapsed against the wall with a goofy smile. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

Zoe stared at him. "Oh, I have an idea. I'm amazed you got through the meeting without choking on your own tongue."

"Dude, me too." Saul shook his head. "Me too, dude."

When they arrived on the bottom level, Zoe only had to pat Gork on the arm to get him out, and this time he even left the railing behind, presumably because his hands were already full.

The receptionist, upon seeing them exit the elevator with a part of the wall, came around the desk with an indignant look on her face.

Saul held up a hand, "Dude, I wouldn't say anything if I were you. We're about to tell him we're going home now. Via the same route. You'll be lucky if this place is still standing."

When they got to the door, Saul grabbed both of their hands and told them to hold on. Gork dropped his haul and hugged Saul's arm hard enough to cut off the circulation.

Zoe looked at the receptionist. "There's your stuff back."

As they "wooshed" away, Gork's cries were drowned out by Saul's delighted screams of "Dude! Dude! Dude!"

Zoe just closed her eyes and mouth and tried to avoid the spittle. But her wacky little cadre couldn't help but make her smile, even in the face of her fear. This might work out yet.
Chapter 10

Back at his safe house, Saul downloaded his soul-locator app onto the phone he had given Zoe her first day so that she could use it to find her mother.

"What I am doing is definitely not approved, just so you know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Zoe responded.

"I mean, you're not a shepherd, dude."

"I know."

"I should've okay'd this with Peter. Maybe I should call him-"

"Saul! What exactly do you think I'm going to do with this? Once I find my mother, I will delete the app from my phone." She held up two fingers, "scout's honor."

"There's no way you were ever a scout."

"How do you know?" Zoe huffed.

"First of all, the motto alone precludes you. Second of all, the scout sign is three fingers, not two."

"Well, here's another one." Zoe held her middle digit up.

"See? That's is why I don't think you can handle this. Forget it. I'll just go with you." He tossed her phone back to her and stood up.

"No, you need to stay here and figure out our game plan for stealing the bone fragment."

"I can do that later." He headed for the door.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Saul, when are you going to start trusting me?"

He whirled on her. "I don't know, maybe when I don't find out that you've been keeping secrets from me! I mean, this crazy thing happens with Death and your soul, you're having visions, you can hear voices, and you tell me exactly bupkis about it for three months!"

"Bupkis?" Zoe giggled.

"Yes, bupkis. It's a word, dude." Saul couldn't help but laugh, too, "It's Yiddish."

"I know it's a word. I just hadn't heard anyone without blue hair ever say it."

"Look, Zoe. I'm your shepherd. You're supposed to come to me with issues." He threw his hands up. "I know I'm... prickly. But the fact that you didn't tell me all this major stuff..."

"I tried!" Her voice went up an octave.

"Uh, when, exactly?"

"Back at the hospital." Zoe crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Perhaps you didn't notice because you were super busy insulting me."

Saul shook his head, "Haven't we had this discussion? I told you I was sorry."

"I know," Zoe felt bad for bringing it up. "The fact of the matter is, I didn't know what it all meant. Some of it I didn't even know was 'major'. And," she looked at her hands, "I don't have the greatest track record with trusting people." Her eyes met his. "But, I'll _try_. _Zoe's_ honor. And as you know, that's just one finger." She held up her middle with a hopeful smile.

"Well, it is your favorite one." He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I guess that's all I can ask." He grabbed the phone back and finished downloading the app. He handed it back to her. "I'll stay here. But you are taking Gork. That's kind of the whole point of a bodyguard."

"Fine," Zoe whined like a petulant child.

#

The walk to the hospital took a little longer, due to her "bodyguard" motioning for her to stand still as he stalked ahead to every corner, peering both ways before waving her forward.

When they finally arrived, she patted him on the back. "Good job, Chewie."

She pulled the phone out of her pocket as she entered the morgue and activated the app. _Here goes nothing_ , she thought.

Turning to her faithful companion, she commanded, "Stay." She held a hand above her eyes. "Watch."

He nodded and took up his station, arms crossed over his chest.

Zoe noticed a definite lack of cries for help as she entered the room. She still heard voices, but they seemed much calmer now, more like they were getting to know one another and biding their time. She felt pride that her promise to help had inspired such confidence in them that they were able to find a little bit of peace in this disturbing time.

Then she looked up from her phone. The ghost nurse buzzed about, opening drawers and giving imaginary shots and offering never-procured tea and coffee to the inhabitants. Rufus was nowhere to be seen, which Zoe supposed was a good thing considering the scene.

Approaching the long-dead healthcare worker, Zoe cleared her throat.

The nurse turned quickly, a hand at her chest. "Oh! You startled me!"

"Aren't you?" Zoe threw a thumb towards the nurse's death scene. "I mean, weren't you? I mean... what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, silly? I'm doing my job!" She indicated the drawers with her hands. "These people need my help."

"Well, yes... that's true. But how did you..."

"I just came in here from lunch, and all these people were here, and I could tell I was needed, so I sprang into action! It's been such a gas! I haven't had this many patients at once since..." Her face screwed up in thought.

"A long time, I know." Zoe patted her arm. "Can you hear these people?"

"I don't have to hear them, dear." She bowed up. "I'm a health care aide. I sense when people need help."

"So... no?"

The nurse turned indignant. "I can _sense_ that I am needed here."

"Okay, that's great. Sorry, no ill feelings meant." Zoe assumed that if Gork somehow knew to come and protect her, this nurse could get a sense about helping these poor souls. "Keep up the good work."

"Thank you."

"I just need to make a quick announcement to the... _patients_. Is that okay?"

"All right, but don't get them worked up." The nurse tapped her chest. "It's not good for the old ticker, you know."

"Oh, I think they'll be fine." _As fine as can be expected for dead people, anyway._ "By the way, what's your name?"

"Nurse Tisdale."

Zoe addressed the drawers. "Okay, people, listen up! We have a plan! We're going to find the guy responsible for all of this and get to the bottom of what's going on here. I've got my best people working on it!" Zoe thought for a second, then added, "A saint, even!"

The crowd murmured excitedly.

"I will keep you posted as things progress. Meanwhile, Nurse Tisdale is here to help with anything you may need. She is an excellent nurse, and you may put every trust in her. Thank you."

Zoe thanked the nurse and turned to leave.

"Actually, may I see you for a moment?" Tisdale took Zoe by the arm and led her to one of the far drawers. "There is one patient here who doesn't seem to need anything at all. I sense nothing from her, even though I've opened her drawer a thousand times and offered any and everything I can think of. Since you seem to be able to hear them, I was wondering if you might give it a try?"

"Um, sure." Zoe didn't hear anything in the vicinity of the drawer they were standing in front of. She wondered if anyone even lay inside. The nurse seemed still a little off-her-rocker; the possibility existed that she might try to treat a "patient" that didn't even exist.

Nurse Tisdale pulled open the drawer. Out rolled a woman, late forties-ish with badly dyed hair, over-plucked eyebrows, and a Motley Crue tattoo on her upper arm.

Zoe grabbed Nurse Tisdale by the arm to steady herself.

"Are you all right?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I know this patient. Can we have a moment alone?"

"Of course," the nurse went back to her duties with the others.

"Mom?" Zoe whispered. "Mom, can you hear me?"

No answer.

She remembered the phone in her hand and looked at the app. No blip.

_What is happening? Where is my mother's soul?_ Zoe stared at the corpse for a moment. She reached down and brushed an errant hair off of her mother's cheek. A memory reared up in her mind of a little Zoe sitting on a chair behind Susan, who sat on the floor, and brushing her hair while they watched TV. Another one of spending an entire day laying with her mother in bed, tracing the outlines of her tattoo as she slept off a hangover from the night before. Her mother had reached over instinctively and pulled five year old Zoe into her arms, and she stayed there long after her back began to ache and her arm had fallen asleep.

Looking down at her mother, Zoe felt something wet land on her hand. What was that? _Am I... crying?_ She touched her own cheek and found tears there. _Oh, great, the_ feels _are starting again._

Zoe wanted more than anything to hold on to her anger with her mother. She had been a very, very, very bad mother. But seeing her here in this drawer, knowing she died alone and lonely, tugged at something in Zoe. She found herself feeling sorry for her mother. All of her life, she had used her looks to have what she saw as a fabulous life. She traveled as a groupie for several different bands, following them around the continent and leaving her toddler daughter at home with a broke grandmother to care for her. And this is where it led. Naked, in a drawer, in the morgue, no one knowing or even possibly caring what happened to you.

Zoe hated that she cared. No matter what, her mother was her mother and she had always had secret fantasies that she would come around one day and _be_ a mother. She had always hoped that her mother would want her, want to spend time with her, want to braid her hair and bake her goodies and do whatever else all the moms did on the Nick-at-Night shows Zoe watched after her grandmother went to bed.

Now she had to face full on the fact that that was never going to happen. Zoe died, then her mom died. This was it for any fantasies of a normal life.

Zoe placed a kiss on her mom's forehead and closed her drawer. She still needed to find her soul, and find out how it had escaped her body, when no one else's apparently had.

She approached the nurse. "Don't worry about her. She's fine. Just doesn't need much, I guess."

"Okay," Nurse Tisdale responded, sounding unconvinced. As Zoe turned to leave again, the nurse stopped her. "Who exactly are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're definitely not a doctor, but you seem to know a lot, you speak with authority, and you're carrying that," the nurse pointed to Zoe's phone, "tricorder thing."

Zoe looked at her phone. And she saw a blip. An annoying hope rose in her chest, and she knew she had to follow that blip. "I've gotta go. I'm nobody important, just someone trying to help these people."

"Just when I think I've seen everything," Tisdale rolled her eyes, "A hippie is going to save all these people."

_Here's hoping_ , Zoe thought as she left to find her mother's blip.

#

She and Gork walked the halls of the hospital, him stalking ahead, doing his safety check, and waving her forward, ever nearing the steady "blip" on the screen. _What the hell is going on here? Where is my mother's soul?_

The blip led her to an operating room, then to a door in the room that read "Sterile Surgical Supplies." Gork put a hand to Zoe's chest as her peered through the wall at the inside. Pulling his head back, he nodded for her to continue and stationed himself outside. Zoe walked through the door into the room. The blip flashed right in front of her. This thing had to have a bug in it. Why would her mom's soul be here?

"Mom?" Zoe asked the room.

"Zoe?" her mother responded, sounding confused.

Zoe walked towards the noise. "Mom, where are you?"

"I'm in surgery, baby. I'm getting a few things nipped and a few things tucked."

Triangulating the noise, Zoe couldn't believe where it appeared to be coming from. _No. This is too silly. There is no way._

"Mom, you're not in surgery."

"Sure I am, sugar. And they've given me some good drugs, too. It's making me hear _you_!"

"Mom, you're in a... you're in a..." Zoe blurted it out. "Mom, your soul is in a liposuction machine."

"That's silly."

"You died on the operating table, mom. Souls aren't leaving their bodies. It looks like yours somehow got sucked up into the machine."

"Zoe," her mother sounded frustrated now, "I've missed you so much, and now you come here to me in my dreams and start saying crazy and hurtful things?"

"I don't know how to make you believe this. I am not coming to you in a dream. I'm here with you. You are dead. I am dead. Everybody's dead, mom!"

"This is ridiculous." Susan's voice went up an octave, "I'm just not going to listen to this."

"How long have you been here?" a lipo machine doesn't have eyes, so Zoe stared at the front of the machine, "How long have you been under?"

"I don't know." Uncomfortable silence. "Although a few nurses have come and gone for their shifts. And I haven't heard the operating doctor's voice in a while."

"That's because the operating doctor went home yesterday." Zoe grasped either side of the appliance, "After you died."

"Well then where is your grandmother?" Susan obviously grasped at straws. "If we're both dead, why isn't she here with us, hmm?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her. She probably went to heaven. I didn't. And no offense, but I don't know that you would have, either. Even without Death stepping out for a bit." Only silence came from the machine. "Mom?"

"Well, I refuse to believe this. This is just like when you were little, and you pretended to be sick to get my attention."

"Fine, getting your attention didn't work then, isn't working now. Message received." Zoe turned to leave. "I don't care. See you later."

"What?" She yelped, "You can't leave me here!"

"Well, if you're not dead, then you can just wake up from your dream" Zoe pantomimed her two fingers walking away, "and get up and leave too, can't you?"

"Fine!" Susan shouted, "I will!"

"Fine!" Zoe shouted back at the contraption, "Do it!"

Silence.

"I can't. I can't move! I can't see!" Susan sounded on the verge of hysterical. "Don't leave me!" The lights on the machine flashed green to red.

Zoe groaned and turned back around. "Fine. Mom, chill out. I'm here."

"Thank you." Susan paused. "What's going to happen to me? To us?"

"Don't know. Me and some other people, we're trying to figure that out. No one's souls are leaving their bodies. Like I said before, Death has checked out. We have a sort of a plan, but it's going to be difficult."

"Wow, you're very involved in all of this."

"Yeah, I sort of can see stuff and communicate with souls that no one else can. They're going to use me to get to the bottom of all of this."

"My daughter is going to save the day!"

"Okay, mom," it bothered Zoe that she felt a surge of happiness at her mother's obvious pride. "I gotta go. I'll check back in with you as soon as I can."

"You're not actually about to leave for real, are you?" The hysterical voice returned.

"Mom, I can't exactly _take_ you. You're a big, metal, machine. Might be noticed rolling down the halls on its own."

"I don't care." Susan sounded belligerent. "Get me out of here. _Don't_ leave me alone."

Ah, the return of Selfish Mother. That didn't take long!

"Look, mother, I have to go."

"Fine. _Let's_ go."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Alone."

"Of course you do. You _always_ had to go it alone. Look where it landed you. This time, I'm going with you. If you don't take me then I will make sure that when this whole thing is over everyone knows how terrible you were to your poor, _dead_ mother."

"Oh, my God!"

"Yes, Him too."

"I can't believe I was actually missing you for a minute there." Zoe rubbed her forehead. "Fine, mother. Let's go."

Zoe grabbed her by the hose and dragged her along. _At least this thing has wheels._

Since she couldn't slip through the wall with the machine, she pushed the door open and hauled her mother behind her. Glancing up at Gork, she said, "don't ask," and kept walking.

Zoe had learned a lot about the hospital over her last several times there, and they were able to make it through and out by taking little used hallways and stairwells. Zoe rolled her by the hose most of the time, with Gork hauling her down the steps.

Luckily, only two different nurses spied her mother rolling on her merry way. Both were too busy to take her all the way back to the surgical ward, so they rolled her to the nearest nurse's station, radioed for an underling to come pick up the machine, and kept going. Zoe and Gork only had to wait for the stations to clear out, and they could continue on.

Night had fallen when they got through the doors, so she just kept to the shadows and dark places. Gork cocked his head at Zoe when she giggled.

"Sorry, just the thought of how funny it would look to anyone happening by. A lipo machine just rolling down the sidewalk on its merry way."

They proceeded in silence to Saul's safe house, Gork playing the ever vigilante bodyguard.

#

Saul opened the door. "I guess this is a good week for the owners to be on a cruise. What," He indicated the machine with his chin, "is this?"

"Susan, this is Saul." Zoe gestured an open hand at the machine. "Saul, this is my mother, Susan."

"Your mother is a...?" Saul shook his head. "I give up. What is she?"

"Her soul is in a liposuction machine."

"And you brought her here."

"She wouldn't let me leave her. Trust me, I _tried_." Zoe rolled her into the living room past Saul. "Can she stay in a closet or something?" she turned to the machine. "You'll be fine. What, do you want your own room?"

Saul blinked at Zoe.

"She's not big on the closet idea."

"I gathered," Saul said, and ushered Zoe and her mother to his room.

Zoe entered and promptly rolled the machine inside the closet, pushing aside dirty socks and old jeans left lying on the floor. Shutting the closet door, she said, "And there she'll stay." Then she yelled toward the door, "You're fine! You just spent the last two days in a dark storage room! You should feel right at home!"

Gork curled up in front of the closet door and whimpered.

"Mommy issues, much?" Saul asked. "Explains a lot."

"I've earned them all. Trust me."

"You could at least leave the closet door open."

"Fine," Zoe rolled her eyes and walked to the door, opening it. "There, are all of you happy?"

"Thrilled, dude" Saul replied.
Chapter 11

"According to my calculations, the bones could be here." Saul pointed to a spot on the Vatican blueprints displayed on his computer screen. "Or here." He moved his finger to another spot.

Zoe and Peter squinted at the screen.

"Your calculations?" Peter asked.

Saul looked sheepish, "Well, I Googled it."

"Googled?"

"It's a computer search engine."

"Ah." Peter nodded.

"A computer search engine assists you in finding something on the internet."

"I see." Peter clasped his hands behind his back, still staring at the computer screen.

"The internet is a global computer network providing a variety of information and communication facilities," Saul stopped to take a breath, "consisting of interconnected networks using standardized communication protocols."

"Hmm."

Saul rubbed his face with one hand, "A computer is-"

"All right!" Peter clapped his hands together. "I understand."

"Don't worry, I don't get any of it either." Zoe said.

"I _understand_." Peter angrily adjusted the cuff of his robe.

Saul blushed, "I wasn't trying to-"

Peter interrupted. "How did you get your food when you were alive?"

"What?" Saul's brow wrinkled.

Peter straightened. "Your food. When you were alive? How did you come by it?"

Saul shrugged. "I don't know. Bought it?"

"And your water?"

"The tap?" Saul glanced around the room, looking at anything but Peter.

"Well, while you were busy inventing the computer and driving it on the internet to search for your _googles_ ," Peter waved a dismissive hand, " _I_ was fishing and working the land."

"I just-"

"And while you sat in your home growing corpulent, I traveled the world with a great man teaching about love." Peter motioned to the desk. "Does the computer teach about love?"

"Well, I mean..." Saul blushed. "I don't go to _those_ sites. I mostly just play games on it."

"Ah, a noble pursuit." He raised an eyebrow.

Zoe jumped in. "Look, Peter, buddy, I'm sure Saul didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"He did not hurt my feelings." Peter narrowed his eyes in Saul's direction. "I am simply curious about how he might have survived two thousand years ago without his electronic box."

Zoe tried to steer the conversation back to the subject at hand. "So, how do we know which place they are, exactly?"

"That's the thing...." Saul fidgeted. "After the first world war, a casket was discovered under what was believed to be your tomb that was engraved with 'Peter was here'."

Saul and Zoe both giggled.

"What is so funny?" Peter's voice sounded sharp. "How else were they to identify my grave?"

"It's just something that a fifth grader would write in magic marker on the back of a bathroom stall door." Zoe explained. "I would expect something a little more... poetic."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What is written on _your_ grave?"

Looking down at the floor, Zoe mumbled "'Mention this gravestone and get 20% off at the Circle S.'"

Saul snorted a laugh.

Peter turned to him. "And yours?"

"Um.... Just name and dates." Saul flamed red.

"So, where else might they be?" Zoe steered the conversation away once again.

"In 2017, archeologists discovered another location with a jar of bone fragments that said 'Peter' on them, so," Saul shrugged, "now they're not sure."

Peter crossed his arms. "I know exactly where they are. There will be someone guarding them. Find him, and we find the bones."

"A guard?" Saul's voice caught. "Like, an otherworldly guard?"

"Do not worry. He is an old friend. He will allow us a bone." Peter's eyes narrowed and he rubbed a spot on his side. "He owes me, actually."

Peter spent a few moments more looking at pictures of the Vatican's interior. When he felt sufficiently satisfied of the location of his remains, the group huddled together, and Peter zapped them away.

#

Zoe blinked. ¨So, this is the Vatican, then? Seems sort of... dark? Does it seem... dark to anyone else? Or was my eyesight smitten... smote... smited when we arrived due to extreme sin?¨

"No, it's definitely dark." Saul responded. "And a tight fit. I don't remember it being this dark. Or such a tight fit. Peter?"

Saint Peter's dignified voice cut the air. "You do not remember it being this dark? When were you here last, exactly?"

"I've seen the Vatican-"

"No, you have not."

"Once-"

"Hm hm."

"Will you let me finish?"

Silence.

"On TV."

"Ah, yes. That's sounds more accurate." Light flashed, and the wall they stood in the middle of cracked. Saint Peter stepped through first, followed by an incensed Saul.

"Hey, wait a minute. What's that supposed to mean?"

Zoe stepped into the hall and took in her surroundings. As a description, 'ornate' would at best be an understatement. She didn't think there was a surface that wasn't carved or sculpted or gilded. The room glittered gold. Liberace would be salivating.

"Simply that I imagine someone like you does not get out much." Peter walked ahead, dismissing Saul.

"Someone like me? What exactly does 'someone like me' do then?"

No sooner had Zoe's foot crossed the crack than the wall slammed shut behind the group. She whirled around and watched the fissure heal itself... mostly.

"Is that," she cocked her head, "Jesus's face?"

Saint Peter glanced back. "Yes. He does that. Ever since Moses did not give him the credit. Our God is a jealous God." He continued at a breakneck pace down the great hall. "They have got to be around here somewhere."

Saul lumbered after him. "Hey, I asked you a question! What do you think someone like me does?"

Peter whirled on him. "I do not know! I imagine that in life you were never very far from the _food_ , though. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Well, it's not what I _wanted_ you to say..."

"Guys!" Zoe tried to interject, "you're obviously still upset about the conversation back at the safe house. Can't we just let bygones be bygones?"

They ignored her.

As the two men continued to argue, Zoe gave up on being the peacemaker and peered around the great hall. In the center of the room, over a giant portico, three stone angels posed in midflight, as though they had only turned to stone when the three had arrived. Zoe stared, somehow transfixed.

"I'm just saying that you can't pigeon-hole me. You don't know what I may or may not have done in my life. Or since!"

"We do not have time for this. We need to find the bones." Peter motioned to Saul's phone. "Do what you do best, and find the blueprints. We are looking for a large open room with some sort of ridiculous shrine in the middle."

Saul angrily punched at his phone, and muttering under his breath, turned away from Peter.

Zoe, slack jawed, pointed at the ceiling. "Um, I think I found it."

One of the stone angels' wings flapped loudly, blowing back her hair as she watched. His eyes flashed red as he turned his head straight towards Zoe. Grey stone feet leapt, and the angel hung over them in midair, arms outstretched and fingers open.

The angel descended over Zoe, landing in front of her, both wings spread and one foot in front of the other in attack position. The behemoth towered over her, about four times her size. This caused her to be standing with her face to the crotch of one of the Holy Host.

"WHO DARES DISTURB THE RESTING PLACE OF SAINT PETER'S BONES?" His voice boomed in the echoing chamber, reverberating through her. For the first time in her life, Zoe felt that the words "zoinks" fit a situation.

She pointed a shaking finger at Peter. "Um... that guy?"

The stone guardian turned in the direction she pointed and began again. "WHO DARES DISTURB-" seeing Peter, he cut himself off and squealed like a little girl. "EEEK! IT"S YOU! IT'S REALLY YOU! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?"

The angel bounded across the room and gathered Peter up in a bear hug, flinging him around like a rag doll. Peter staggered just a bit when the angel sat him back down. "I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU SINCE-" he stopped. "OH, SORRY," he said, clearing his throat. "I guess I don't need all the special effects anymore. What are you doing here?"

"Say _I_ don't do anything? I'm about to save your ass!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe spied Saul running at the angel. He took a flying leap through the air and punched the angel right where the family jewels should be, looking exactly like Mario trying to capture the flag. The sound of bone hitting stone is a uniquely painful noise, Zoe realized as Saul fell to his knees, clutching his broken hand and howling. The angel, unmoved, stared at the crumpled figure writhing on the floor.

"What is he doing?" The angel asked Peter. He indicated his nether regions with one hand. "I don't have those..." He turned back to Saul. " _Angel_ here. _Heavenly Host_. I mean, seriously, what are you doing?"

"Embarrassing himself, mostly," Peter replied. He glided over to Saul and waved a hand over his, healing it. "That was not an attack! It was a hug. This is Fredrial. He is my guardian angel. We have not seen each other in about a thousand years."

"Please, call me Fred." The angel extended a giant hand and covered Saul's with it.

Saul winced.

"Your hand is not hurt." Peter rolled his eyes. "I just healed it."

"Listen to this one!" Fred exclaimed. "How's your side doing?"

"It still smarts a little, actually." Peter rubbed a hand on his midsection.

"Two thousand years ago. _Two thousand years ago_ I nudge you in the side to wake you, so I could _break you out of jail_ by the way and save your life." Fred shook his behemoth head. "I knew you'd still be complaining about it."

"Perhaps we have differing opinions on what a 'nudge' is. You _struck_ me. It says so, right in The Bible."

"Do you believe everything you read in The Bible?"

"All I know is that it still smarts." Peter's glare could freeze water.

Fred didn't seem to notice. "You never thanked me for that."

"For _striking_ me?"

"For breaking you out of jail. They were going to execute you the next day, you know."

"I heard something about that, yes." Peter waved a dismissive hand. "You left too quickly for me to thank you."

"Well-"

"And are you not you my guardian angel? Is it not it your job to keep me safe?"

"Hey, you made it to your 60's. That was ancient in those times." Fred crossed his arms. "I'd say I did a pretty good job."

"Except maybe there at the end a little? You know, when I was being crucified? By Nero?"

"Hmmm..." He stroked his chin. "I don't remember any of that."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Convenient."

"Look, I'm guarding you now, aren't I? Keeping you safe from grubby hands, teenagers' gum wads, and errant soda cans propped on your burial site. I haven't left your side since you died. In fact, as it turns out, I can't leave. So, you're welcome. Even though you still haven't thanked me."

"Thanked you! I-"

Zoe, whose neck ached from watching this exchange like a tennis match, interrupted, "ahem... aren't we here for something?"

Peter straightened his robes and collected himself. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

"What might that be?" Fred's eyes narrowed.

"I need a bone."

"A bone?"

"Just a fragment will do."

"One of _your_ bones?"

"A fragment, yes," Peter picked at some unseen speck of dust on his robes, as nonchalant as if he had just asked for the time of day.

"What could you possibly need one of your bones for?"

"It does not matter." He waved a hand dismissively.

"That doesn't work on me." Fred moved as if to bat away an annoying fly.

"Hm?" Peter gave a casual glance in the angel's direction.

"Your mind control thing. It doesn't work on me." Fred pointed up, "I can only be controlled by a much higher power. You know that. Now, why do you want a bone?"

Peter heaved a sigh, defeated. "I need it to save the world, if you must know."

"You can't have them."

"What do you mean, I 'can't have them'? They're _my_ bones."

"But, they are mine to guard." Fred bowed up, once again towering over the group. "WHO DARES DISTURB THE RESTING PLACE OF-"

"Oh, come on! You know it is I!" Peter rolled his eyes.

Zoe, realizing no one watched her, backed up slowly. She looked toward Saul, who had been sulking on the floor nearby during the squabble. They made eye contact, and she jerked her head towards the giant portico the angel has been sitting on. Something that resembled a coffin sat underneath it, ornately carved and covered in more gold. This had to be where the bones were kept. Tiptoeing, they made their way to the far side of it. They could hear Peter and Fred arguing on the other side of the crypt.

"Look, I can't do it. Wish I could."

"Wish you could?"

"I was told to guard these remains until the end of time."

"Well, that works out, then. Because the end of time will be here before you know it if I cannot get my hands on those bones!"

"Look, I can compromise. I can get you a bone of Pope Hilarius." Fred snapped his fingers. "I can get you the funny bone! Although it's not as funny as you would think."

Peter glared. "I need _my_ bones."

"I really don't want to do this. I mean, we haven't seen each other in a thousand years. Don't make me do this."

"What, exactly, are you thinking you will do?"

Zoe turned her attention back to the sarcophagus as the two men continued their disagreement. "What do we do? How do we get in there?"

Saul shrugged. "Beats me."

Zoe looked back towards Peter.

"Please," Peter steepled his hands and bowed slightly in front of the angel, then quickly glanced toward Zoe. His eyes flitted to his fingers, then back to her.

Realization dawned on her. "Um... I think we're supposed to pray."

"Okay, go ahead."

"Me? I haven't prayed since..." Zoe thought for a moment. She wasn't sure she'd _ever_ prayed. Maybe a few times when she'd been a kid and her homework had been late, and a few more times when she'd grown older and _other_ things had been late.

"No time like the present!" Saul dove under the cover of the alcove, as Peter and Fred's disagreement took a physical turn and lightning arced from the angel's fingers.

"Shit! I mean, crap! I mean-"

"Just pray!" Saul shouted, cowering under the altar. Lightning flashed through the air over him as Peter and the angel battled.

Zoe closed her fingers together in front of her chest.

"Lord, I know we haven't talked in a while. Heck, maybe never.... Can I say 'heck?'"

"Are you serious right now?!?" Saul mashed himself as far against the back of the altar as it was possible to get. A bolt hit one column of the alcove and traveled up to the top, electrifying the other stone angels perched on it.

"Sorry!" Zoe refocused. "If it... be Your will... if Thoust should... thinkest it right... could You- Thoust - openith the... what is this thing called?"

"A box!" Saul shot back.

"Openith the box... ith."

An errant flash of lightning struck the side of the sarcophagus, and Zoe felt sure the loud cracking noise would disturb the battling figures above. She snatched the first fragment that fell out of the box and ran, not really sure where she headed. Saul jumped up as fast as his girth could manage and ran behind her.

Zoe reached the far wall where they had entered and turned around to ask Saul what to do next. She spied him in the middle of the giant room, at a complete stop and staring up at the battle progressing above him.

"Saul!"

He held up a shushing finger, keeping his eyes trained on Peter and Fred.

"Get over here!" Zoe hissed.

"Just a second! I'm trying to work something out." Saul looked strangely calm as he trained his eyes on the angel above. He cocked his head slightly and his gaze narrowed. Zoe thought of a quizzical dog.

"You're going to get hit!"

"They're fighting over the altar! They're not worried about me!"

Zoe ran back across the room and grabbed Saul by the arm. He yanked back.

"Peter! Peter, go for the wings!"

"Why are you getting their attention? Are you crazy?"

"Just trust me! All bosses have a weakness. I figured his out! I know what I'm talking about!" Cupping his mouth, Saul yelled again. "Peter!"

Peter looked down, just in time to be struck by an arc of light from the angel's fingers.

Saul winced. "Sorry! But go for the wings! It's his weakness!"

Fred's head snapped towards Saul. Glancing at Peter, he closed his wings against his back. He dropped like the stone he was forged from and crashed to the floor, breaking and sending intricate floor tiles skittering away, as if running from the carnage.

Peter took the opportunity of the angel's incapacitation to lasso him with an arc of light. Fred struggled against his prison.

"Can we run, now?" Zoe asked, sounding calmer than she felt.

"Yes!" Peter yelled, and the trio dashed in the direction they had entered.

Zoe heard a snapping sound behind her, and just as she felt her collar being grabbed by a stone hand, Peter grabbed her arm and the trio flashed their way to safety.
Chapter 12

"That was amazing!" Zoe turned to Saul. "You saved the day."

The group sat in Saul's room at his safe house, taking a breather and reflecting on their recent success. Her mother had been rolled into the room and awkward introductions made. Gork, whimpering from a severe case of detachment anxiety, laid on the bed with his head in Zoe's lap. She couldn't believe she'd actually gotten used to the _slime_ of him.

"It was nothing." Saul blushed.

"How did you figure out his weakness?" Peter even seemed impressed.

"Every boss has a weakness. You just gotta study them until you figure it out."

"Boss?" Peter asked.

"It's a video game thing." Saul blushed deeper.

No one made fun of him. Zoe asked, "So how did you figure out it was his wings?"

"Are you kidding me? That guy was made of stone. He had no physical weakness."

Peter snapped his head towards Saul. "What? He actually had no weakness? Then why did you say that?"

"He had no _physical_ weakness. But, he was... kinda dumb. He wasn't anticipating any of your attacks. He was just darting around randomly. He was only holding his own because he _was_ physically superior. Once I figured that out, it was just a matter of how I was going to trick him."

"Wow...." Zoe found herself even more impressed.

Saul clapped his hands together, obviously uncomfortable with the accolades. "Okay, what's next?"

"Now, we rest." Peter responded.

Zoe did not like that answer. "Rest? But, we have the bone! We're so close! Let's go get the bad guy! Come on. We know we make a great team. Let's finish this. Team Bone!" She held out her hand, sports huddle manner.

No one joined in her rallying cry.

"What? Don't like the name? Maybe the Saint and the Sinners? Or what about Peter and The Boners?"

Saul rolled his eyes.

"No?" Zoe threw up her hands. "You guys are killing me."

"If you are so ready to go vanquish our enemy, then pray tell, how do we find him?" Peter inquired.

Zoe sighed. "I don't know. Your Divine GPS?"

Saul put his hands on Zoe's shoulders, gently pushing her off the bed and steering her toward the couch. Gork followed obediently, and curled up on the rug in front of it. "As you know, he's off the grid. We have to use your awesome powers to locate him. So, for now, we rest."

"Fine." She drew the word out like a petulant teenager, but let herself be guided to the couch.

Resting turned out to be easier said than done, however. Especially when Zoe's mom had about a thousand questions and spent the next couple of hours asking every single one twice.

"So... I'm dead?"

"Yes, Susan."

"Don't call me Susan. You know I hate that."

"Fine."

"I'm really, truly dead? No take backs?"

"Yes, you are really, truly dead, Mother. No take backs. Criss cross applesauce. Cootie shots don't help."

"What?"

"You're dead, mother."

"How do you know?"

"How do I know? Well, the fact that I'm sitting here having a conversation with a liposuction machine either means your soul has officially left your body or my mind has officially left mine."

"No, I mean have you, I don't know, talked to anyone? About it?"

"Yes. Turns out, death is permanent. Sorry."

"You don't always have to be sarcastic, you know. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on."

"I know," Zoe sighed, "I'm just tired."

"Okay, I'll leave you alone."

Zoe closed her eyes and dropped her head onto the sofa. Just as her brain started to shut itself down, Susan spoke again.

"What was it like?"

Zoe groaned, "What?"

"Dying? What did it feel like?"

"You did it, too. Don't you know?"

"No. I didn't know I died. Except for it being dark in here, everything feels the same for me." Susan waited, "So, what was it like?"

"Honestly, it's kind of hard to explain. It happened insanely fast. I guess I was in denial for a long time."

"What was the moment like? What went through your mind? Did your life flash before your eyes? Did you see God?"

"No, none of that happened. Trust me, if I see God you'll know it. I have a bone to pick with Him about a few things."

Her mother sat quiet for a moment. "I didn't want you to go out that night. I knew something was going to happen. I felt it."

"Seriously, Mom?" Zoe jumped up from the couch. "You're going to throw that in my face right now?"

"That's not what I was trying to do. I was just-"

"No, that's exactly what you were trying to do. Like anything would be different if I was still alive? We'd be getting along famously and all of our problems would be behind us?"

"Well, I'd still be alive instead of stuck in here...."

"Oh my God." Zoe put a hand to her forehead. "Wow."

"What? Your death has led to everything that has happened. You can't argue that."

"Why? Why did I bring you back here? I should have left you in that closet. I should have let them drain you into a coffee can and throw you away! Why? Why is this necessary right now? You're going to blame me for your insane, selfish choices after I died? I didn't make you sue anyone and everyone for any cent you could squeeze out of my death. I didn't call the doctor and schedule your liposuction. I was _dead_."

"Yeah, nobody knew that better than me. You think I cared about the money?"

"Truthfully? I think you saw an easy chance to get some money."

"What exactly do you think I'm capable of? You think I gave birth to you twenty years ago, steepled my fingers like an evil villain and just waited? You think I wanted you to die? So I could get... money?" Susan spit out the last word.

Zoe almost felt bad. "I don't know, mom. I'm supposed to be resting. And you're not really conducive to me keeping calm."

She rolled her mom into the closet, mumbling "Sorry," before closing the door and collapsing back onto the couch.

#

Two days passed before she had another vision. Zoe had all but given up, afraid that now that they had a plan, the visions had stopped. She felt like she'd been sitting on the couch, Gork at her feet and Saul at his computer, pretending not to stare at her out of the corner of his eye, forever.

She flipped through stations on the TV. She was even sick of snickering at the reports of the giant carved angel that had broken off and fallen to the floor of the Basilica, doing many millions of dollars in damages and temporarily closing the place. The stone masons were calling it a miracle that the angel himself remained unscathed. They were blaming flying floor debris for the crack in the wall that Peter had made. Pilgrimages were already being organized for groups to get a glance at it.

Pressing the power button the remote, she sighed. "Maybe I've lost it."

"How could you lose it? You're still connected to him, somehow." Saul sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "He seems to have stopped. Like the tragedies happening on their own in the world are enough right now. Depressing thought."

"Why is he doing this anyway?"

"He's just chaotic evil." Saul shrugged. "That's what they do."

"No, it doesn't feel like that. It feels like..." her vision started to blur. She tried to blink back the fuzziness, to no avail. Exhaustion overcame her, and she fell back on the couch, just getting out, "Saul" before her world closed in.

She felt Saul lifting her prone body and moving it to the bed, and Peter's cool hands on her fore head. She stopped resisting, and let herself drift into the vision.

She squinted through the black smoke and spied what looked like Formica tables and cracking and melting vinyl clad metal chairs. A diner? The prickly sensation of a second presence in the room ran up her back. She turned around. A man stood behind her, hands on hips, surveying the carnage. He appeared young, early 20's or so, and was dressed all in black. Zoe thought he might be the man from her previous visions, and the lunatic smile that twisted his face as he surveyed the damage confirmed the suspicion. This was not a good guy. In the vacuum of silence, she attempted to talk to him.

" _Who are you?" Her voice sounded like a record being played at the wrong speed, slow and drugged. He stood, prideful, watching the room burn, seemingly unaware of her presence._

Knowing she was wasting precious time she could be using to figure out where the hell this was, Zoe nevertheless walked closer to him, until they were face to face.

" _Who the hell are you and what are you up to?" She yelled into the complete silence, her words once again sounding hollow and off-time._

" _You get your rocks off on killing people, you asshole?" She reached a hand up as if to jab him in the chest with her finger, accenting her point, even though she knew it would swipe right through his body._

Except it didn't.

When her finger touched his chest, his head snapped down at it. Her head snapped down at it.

He grabbed her hand, twisting it up and turning her at the same time, until he had her arm in a grip behind her back. His other arm grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. At the same time, all of her surroundings came to life in a whoosh. The heat of the fire stung her eyes and singed her cheeks, and the smell of ash and embers filled her nose. Worst of all, the screams of dying people rushed at her.

Zoe felt a rock in her stomach.

" _Where did you come from?" He bellowed in her ear. "What are you?"_

Zoe didn't know what to say, distracted by the screams and dying cries of the people in the building.

" _Help them!" She yelled, trying to wrench away from him, to get to them and help even one._

Things were obviously different this time. This time, she might be able to do it.

" _Oh, my God," he dropped her arm and pushed her away, as though disgusted._

All of the sounds and smells were sucked out of the room, and Zoe stood again in a vacuum.

The room began shimmering around her, and she knew the vision neared its end. Frantically, her eyes darted around the room to find the evidence of location that she needed. Ironically, her gaze fell on a green checked matchbook.

#

Saul, fidgeting, stared at Zoe laying on the bed. Peter's hands were on her forehead, his eyes closed as if concentrating. Saul didn't like the waiting game. He just wanted to find the bad guy, get rid of him – _here's hoping the fragment worked_ – go home and get back to business as usual. His computer sat ready for him, his comfort zone and his oasis away from the insanity. He could keep things in order there. He always knew what button to click to fix whatever went wrong. The physical chase had never been his forte. Forever picked last for the teams in his PE classes in school, he preferred more cerebral activities. Yet here he stood, waiting for Zoe to wake up and tell them where to run to defeat the enemy, where to go to start the nerve wracking action all over again. He mopped the imaginary sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Zoe's body jumped. She whipped her head side to side.

"Whoooo... arrrrrreeeee.... yooouuuuu..."she spoke out loud, drawing out the words, sounding truly like a ghost haunting the room.

Gork started whining like a concerned puppy from the corner where he had been sitting.

Saul's eyebrows arched. He looked at Peter. "Who is she talking to?"

"Not sure" Peter looked pained as he tried to keep his hands on Zoe's moving target of a forehead. Saul didn't know if she always talked out loud during these visions.

"Whooooo... theeee... helllll...." Saul's head shot up at Peter.

"Sorry, uh... sir. Zoe can be a little bit of a... potty mouth sometimes." Saul shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the room, attempting a nonchalant look.

"...killinnnnggg... peopppleee... youuuu... assssssshhollleee..."

"Oh, crap," Saul clapped his hand over his mouth, looking at Peter.

"Sorry..." he said, between the fingers. Then back to Zoe, "Really?" Saul gestured towards Peter as if Zoe could see him. "In front of a holy man?"

"It's all right. I've been around awhile. I've heard much worse. And, she is not wrong." Peter, still struggling to keep his hands on Zoe's now writhing form, threw a look at Gork, who intermittently whined in the corner. He stood up and walked to Saul. Saul allowed him to steer him away from the side of the bed.

"Hellllppp theeeemmmm!"

He turned sharply at the sound of Zoe's shrill scream and scurried back.

Gork came to the side of the bed, too. He petted Zoe's legs and cried pitifully, looking the part of the loyal puppy.

"Okay, I don't feel like this is normal! You need to get her out of there, dude!"

St Peter removed one hand from Zoe's forehead and attempted to shush Saul with it. Saul ducked.

"Stop trying to shut me up with your damned magical hand!" He was too distraught about what happened to worry about his cursing this time.

"It's actually a _blessed_ magical hand," Peter corrected him, replacing it on Zoe's forehead.

"Not the point. She's flopping around, man! Something's happening to her! What are you going to do about it?"

As if on cue, Zoe shot up to a sitting position, eyes open. "I know where the next event is going to happen." She looked drained.

_No, worse than drained_ , Saul thought. _She looked traumatized_.

She rubbed her eyes and stood up too fast. Staggering a little, Saul put out his arm to steady her and keep her from falling.

"Where is it going to be?" Peter asked, brushing Zoe's cheek with a calming hand.

"The Metro Café," She told him, pushing his arm away. "Stop trying to calm me down. I need to process this. Just leave me alone for a minute."

"I, know, the damned hand, right?" Saul said. Zoe left the room, not responding.

Peter dropped his arm, a concerned look clouding his face as he followed her with his eyes.

Saul looked at Peter. " _Blessed_ , sorry." He went out after Zoe.

She crouched in the dark hallway, hugging her legs.

"Does that always happen?" Saul asked. "Can you always talk to him? Or... it?"

"So you could hear me?" She asked. "I guess I'm not surprised I was talking out loud. And it's a 'him'. No, I've never been able to talk to him before." She looked up at Saul. "But, this time, it was even more than that. He was able to... touch me. And when he touched me, I could hear and smell and feel everything. It was like it was actually happening, like I was there and not just having a vision."

"What the...?" Saul stammered.

Zoe fixed him with an intense stare. "We've got to find him, Saul. We've got to get rid of him. What he's doing.... I mean, I knew it before, but I really understood it this time. People were dying, and I couldn't do anything. They were _screaming_ for help, and I... I..." she broke off, staring at the floor.

"Okay, let's get him. Let's go now. You know where we need to go. Let's do it."

"Not you guys." Zoe said it so quietly Saul almost didn't hear her. "Just me."

"Oh, I don't think so." Saul responded. "We're a team. It's my job to protect you. You're new to all this."

"Oh, because you've been through this so many times before? This is new territory to all of us.

Don't act like you know what to do. This guy can take all of us down, and not think twice about it. Right now, he doesn't know you are involved. He's seen my face. It's up to me to confront him and keep you guys out of it."

Saul didn't know how to respond. He felt guilty for longing for his computer earlier. Wasn't this exactly what he hoped for? As easy out to get back to his comfort zone? But, he couldn't let Zoe put herself in the line of danger just to save his own skin. He made a quick decision that he immediately hated himself for.

"Fine, we'll ditch the others, but you're _not_ ditching me."

Zoe started to protest, but Saul held up a hand. "You are not ditching me. I'll stay out of the line of fire so he doesn't see me. But I'm not letting you do this alone. What do we do?"

"He's at the Underground Diner. You need to steal the bone fragment from St Peter." Saul looked up at heaven. Of course she lied about the location, to a _saint_. And of course he had to steal from that same saint to help her. What else would he expect?

He stood up, "Okay, meet me outside." He sounded much more confident than he felt.

#

Saul slipped back into the room. "So, uh..."

Peter sat on the bed, the bone fragment in his hand. "I assume you're back for this." He held it out to Saul.

"Back for that?" Eyebrows raised, Saul attempted to look confused, but he kept his eyes on the fragment.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, do stop the innocent act. She lied to me."

Saul looked at the ceiling, "I mean, what is 'lying', actually, man?"

"'Lying' is telling an untruth. Lying is taking someone for a fool. Lying is what Zoe just did to me."

"Well, when you give it that strict a definition..."

"Why does she not want help?" Peter stood up, robes billowing. He tucked the fragment inside them.

"She doesn't want anyone else to get hurt. She," Saul looked away, "thinks she's protecting everyone. She blames herself for the situation, and she wants to solve it herself."

"When a group on a mission goes their separate ways, they are weakened, and the mission can be jeopardized. I know this from firsthand experience. But," he waved a hand, "if she needs to find that out on her own, so be it."

Saul's fingers curled around the bone that materialized in his hand. He'd gotten what he came for, and he hadn't even had to steal it. So why did he feel so rotten?
Chapter 13

Smoke stained the sky in black patches. Standing across the street from the flaming diner, Zoe squinted to see through the haze. The acrid air did not sting her eyes as it would the living. However, she didn't possess x-ray vision, a potential next model improvement she needed to discuss with the higher ups. _Ghost 2.0, the same confusing parallel existence, but now with 33% more superpowers!_

She needed to get closer, but suddenly she felt a little less brave than an hour ago. She remembered the moment he grabbed her in the vision, the way everything came at her at once, the screams of the people and the fear she felt for them and herself. For a moment, she stood, unable to make herself walk forward. Saul touched her arm.

"You okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah," she lied. "Just trying to remember if I left the curling iron on at home, you know, before I died."

_Come on, Zoe, the others won't be far behind. You've gotta get going._ She stepped into the street. Saul followed even more slowly.

Zoe scanned the remains of the building for any sign that _he_ still lurked on the premises. Her visions never indicated how quickly he left a scene, but she considered his work here done. _He might have moved on_ , she found herself half hoping.

As she entered the diner, she spied a movement in the haze to her left, sending a jolt of fear to the pit of her stomach. She halted, holding up a fist for Saul to do the same. His face smacked into it.

"Really, dude?" He rubbed his forehead. "What are we, Seal Team 6?"

"Shhh! I just heard something!" Zoe whispered, staring intensely in the direction of the sound.

"All right, dammit." Saul whispered back, then swiped his arm in the shape of a square through the haze, opening up a small window of sight in the place that Zoe stared.

She turned to him, astonished.

"Why didn't you do that in the first place? Why have we been walking through a fog if you can do that?"

"Because it takes concentration and expends a lot of energy," Saul snarled back at her.

"Well, if there was ever a time to concentrate and expend some energy, I would say now was it, wouldn't you? What were you saving it for? Were you going to draw pretty pictures in the smoke when all of this was over and we hadn't been able to find him? Maybe put on a shadow puppet show?"

"I wasn't 'saving' it," he air quoted. "I _had_ been saying prayers to bless your ass and protect you from whatever this thing is! But don't worry, I'm over that now, dude."

"You know I have a bone shard in my pocket that could end you, right?" Zoe threatened, emptily.

"Man, you know what -" Saul stopped, interrupted by a moaning sound.

Both of their heads snapped in the direction of Saul's window. The sound came from a large piece of debris. As they rushed towards it, Zoe spied a pair of legs at haphazard angles jutting out from underneath.

"It's a person!" she shouted.

Saul bent over what looked like a piece of vaulted ceiling. He closed his eyes, and Zoe watched with awe as he grasped the edge and lifted it, pushing it back until it cleared its victim and he could drop it again.

Zoe crouched down over the man that lay underneath. He groaned.

"He's still alive!" She turned to Saul. "Can you drag him out of here?"

"I could, but we're talking about a lot of energy. And in order to bless you, I have to stay close."

"No, if we can help these people we're going to. Drag him out and then see if you can find others."

"Zoe," Saul started.

"Saul, this is part of the reason I wanted to come alone. St Peter is all about the 'big picture' and getting things back to status quo, but people aren't a big concern of his. I want to defeat this guy, but if we can help these people, too, we're doing it. _You're_ doing it. We'll be in the same area. If I need help, I'll call out for you."

Saul sighed heavily. "Zoe, you've got to stop trying to do everything on your own! Let me help you!"

"I am _asking_ for your help." Zoe's voice pleaded. "Helping them is helping me. I know what it's like to die before your time, Saul. If I can stop that from happening to even a few people, that'll give me the strength to face whatever this guy is. Otherwise I'm just going to stay here and try to do it myself and you can stab the enemy!"

Saul's eyes widened with fear. "Fine, fine. I'll try to protect you from here. But the blessing won't be as strong, so no major confrontation, okay? Just find him, stab him, and let's get the hell out of here!"

Zoe nodded in ascent, then turned to walk deeper into the diner.

Although Saul did as she asked, she felt even more nervous than before without him at her side. She tried to focus in on her anger and disgust over this monster's actions, using those feelings to shore up her waning reserve of courage. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this_ , she thought as she shuffled through the smoky room, looking and listening for any sign of her adversary.

She felt him before she saw him. Rage, so much rage it stopped her in her tracks, grabbing at her with unseen arms, pulling her toward him. His feelings were almost tangible to her, and none of them were good. In her life, she possessed an innate ability to read other people, an empathetic sense of what they were feeling. In this case, she almost experienced the feelings herself. Vertigo turned her vision to static and bile burned in her throat. She needed to get a handle on this, or she wouldn't be able to get close enough to him to do anything.

She stepped back and closed her eyes, willing herself to reclaim the calm she discovered at the safe house when making the decision to come after him.

"Hello? Who's there?" His Cheshire voice cut through her calming moment like a battle ax through butter. "It's you, isn't it?"

Was that excitement she heard in his voice?

"I was hoping you would come back!"

No, not excitement, but _giddiness_

. His voice came from her right side, but she still couldn't see him. The smoke remained too thick. "Name's Trey, by the way. And yours is?"

Exerting effort, Zoe kept the shaking out of her voice. "Zoe. What are you doing, Trey?"

Silence. Then the hairs on the back of her neck let her know where he stood next.

"Aw, come on. Don't ya like what I done with the place?" He whispered in her ear.

She sprang forward, swallowing her fear, not wanting him to touch her. "Hey, I'm no interior decorator, but I'd say you went a little overboard with the 'distressed' thing. And the smoky look is _so_ last year."

She attempted a flippant tone, hoping that it sounded nothing like the pee-her-pants scared one that currently screamed in her head _run away_!

"Oh, come on, I worked so hard on this, and you ain't even gonna say _one_ nice thing? Oh, well. I guess I can't please everybody."

Zoe still couldn't get a handle on his location. The black smoke clouded her vision, making it impossible to know where he stood.

"I guess I'm pleasin' who I _need_ to." His voice echoed from somewhere above her.

He landed on her, his arms around her neck, legs kicking her in the back. Taken by surprise, Zoe lost her balance and toppled to the floor. Straddling her, he released his grip and threw a punch that found its mark between her eyes. Pain burst like fireworks in her head, and her vision blurred. Unable to clear her head of the fog, she wobbled like a piñata waiting for the next punch.

From behind, she heard a scream. Something leaped over her head and bowled the man sitting on her chest backward. She recognized Gork's stench immediately.

Where the hell had he come from?

She realized he must have followed them from the safe house.

Scrabbling to her feet, she tried to see the two adversaries through the haze. Remembering how well Gork protected her during the flying squirrel attack, Zoe worried that Trey would win. If she could see what was happening, she might be able to help Gork somehow. Maybe he could just pin Trey, and then Zoe could stab him with the bone and the whole thing would be over. She could hear Gork screaming and his claws scratching the floor as well as Trey yelling obscenities, so she knew the fight raged on. She called for Saul.

"Yes?" He stood at her side faster than she thought a guy of his size could move. She felt relief to have him back with her. A passing thought about how many victims he had been able to save crossed her mind, but she didn't have time to ask right now.

"I need you to do that window thing."

"You've been punched! You look terrible!" Fear and panic crossed Saul's face as his eyes darted around the room. "Where is he? Is he near?"

"Yes, he's right there, fighting with Gork. I need you to do that window thing!"

"Gork? Where did he come from? I thought he-"

"I swear to God," Zoe grabbed Saul's arm and pointed it in the direction of the dueling duo. " _Window_!"

"Oh, yeah," Saul waved his arm and the smoke cleared.

Gork, pinned by Trey's arm, whimpered against the far wall.

"Who do you think you're messin' with?" Trey screamed in his face. "You think I'm _scared_ of you? Do you? You're one disgusting lookin' dude, that's for sure. What was your plan? To _goo_ me to death?" He pointed to his shirt, now covered in the puss Gork constantly produced. "I should kill you just for messin' up my shirt. I don't have another one."

"Don't you touch him, Trey!" Zoe yelled. She reached into her pocket to pull out the bone fragment and came up empty. She checked her other pocket and found nothing. She looked at Saul, imploring. Saul shrugged his shoulders, eyes wide with panic. Trey reached casually into his pants pocket, one arm still pinning Gork, and pulled out the bone.

"You lookin' for this?" He turned it around in his hand, eyeballing it. "Yeah, I picked pockets when I was alive. Lived on the streets. Anythin' I could do to survive, you know."

Zoe froze, terrified. The only key to ending this whole thing now lie in the hands of the enemy _. Is there anything I can't screw up?_

"Speechless, huh? I get the impression that's a first for ya." Trey looked at Zoe and then back at the fragment. "This thing must be _real_ special. What do you suppose you brought it here for?" He looked at Gork. "Do _you_ know what she brought it here for?" He asked casually.

Gork whimpered.

"It's nothing!" Saul found his voice. "A paperweight! A lucky charm!"

"Might as well see what this lucky charm paperweight can do." Trey brought his arm back and swung down. The fragment landed in Gork's gut with a squish. As Trey pulled the bone free, puss flew out and hit him in the eyes. He stumbled away, dropping the fragment.

"It burns!" He screamed.

Saul grabbed him and threw him down, pinning him.

Zoe ran to Gork, who clutched his stomach. Smoke rose up from the wound. She tried to close the growing hole with her hands, unconcerned with the puss and gunk rising up from it.

"You're going to be okay," she said. "We've just gotta get this closed up."

Gork closed his hands over hers and brought them to his heart. He looked into her eyes, and she thought she could see the human he used to be. He spoke, and for the first time, she understood.

"Sorry..." He clutched her hands over his heart.

"It's okay," she stammered. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

She tried to free her hands from his to tend to his wound again. His stomach was almost gone, smoking and disappearing.

He let her hands go and placed his own on her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Thank you, Zoe. You healed me. Thank you."

She clutched at the ashes as his hands dissolved from her face, and stared as the last of him faded away.

"Whoa! That's one powerful paperweight!"

Trey struggled against Saul, whose arms were wrapped around him in a bear hug.

Zoe picked up the bone from the floor. Feeling the weight of the murder weapon in her hand, she stood and turned toward Trey, fully intending to drive it into his heart. "That was my friend."

She ran at him. Saul rolled away just in time as Zoe, blinded by rage, brought the artifact down and stabbed Trey with it. Screaming, he clutched at the bone buried in his chest. Unable to wrest it free, he turned to her with wild and angry eyes.

"You bitch!" His body already starting to turn into ash, he flung himself at her. "I'll kill you!"

"Too late," Zoe felt an odd sensation of heat in her chest and head, but refused to let it stop her triumphant moment. "You already did." She leaned over him. "So, really, I guess we're even now."

She staggered as the heat exploded out of her chest in a shimmering wave. Trey used his last bit of strength to grab her around the neck and tackle her to the ground.

"Ha," he struggled to speak. "Looks like... you're gonna... die, too. Again." His arm dropped, his strength gone.

Zoe pushed herself away from him. The world started to close in on her, and she felt woozy as she looked down at her wound. It pulsated and oozed a familiar yellow, shimmering substance. _No, no, no! This can't be happening!_ Zoe watched in horror as the shimmering light arced out of her and began healing Trey, reconstructing the parts that had already turned to ash. She grabbed at it, trying to pull it back, but her hands slipped through it. He was almost whole again.

Getting weaker, she fell to her knees, helpless to do anything but watch as Trey's soul returned to him.

_Shouldn't it be done by now?_ It felt as if her insides were being pulled out through her wound. Fatigue overwhelmed her, and the need to sleep flooded her being. As she collapsed to the floor, she fought to hold onto consciousness.

As Zoe grew weaker, Trey seemed to be gaining strength at an alarming rate. He staggered to his feet, but instead of attacking her, he backed away, eyes darting around the room, as if seeing it for the first time.

Saul tackled Trey to the gound, the entirety of his ample frame covering him as he landed.

"Get off me!" Trey screamed, his voice high pitched and scared.

"I don't think so. You're not going anywhere. Zoe, where's the fragment?" Saul lurched around, Trey still in his bear hug. "Zoe!"

Zoe willed herself to stay awake, crawling across the floor on her belly, slug-like, leaving a shimmering trail behind. Her hand closed over the fragment. _Just have to get it to Saul_.

The crack split the room in two. Saul, forced off balance, let go of Trey and staggered back. Death floated down into the room, his robes fluttering around him. He alit on the ground and tucked Trey under his arm as though he were lifting a rag doll. Zoe wondered at the strength of his skeletal frame.

"Give me back my dog. I hope you have not undone my training." Death looked at Trey and scratched him behind the ear. "Now, home you go." With the flick of his wrist, Trey vanished.

Death pulled out his scythe and brandished it at Saul.

"Where the hell do you keep that thing?" Zoe's whisper came out over gravel. "Up your ass?" She pulled herself up, every part of her body screaming.

Death turned to her. "Oh," Venom dripped from in his voice, " _you_." He cocked his head. "Did I not tell you to keep out of this?"

Rattling over to her, he glanced at his feet. "Ew. I've stepped in some soul." He took two fingers and wiped the offending substance from his foot. Then he touched the tip of the scythe to it.

As though he had ignited a fire, Zoe began convulsing in pain, her skin like lava and her insides roiling. She collapsed, Saul catching her just in time. He lowered her to the ground gently and placed his hands on her wound. "You're going to be okay. I've got you."

"Oh, what a touching scene. It _really_ moves me." He raised his scythe. "I mean, I almost never get two in one blow."

"Not today, dude." Saul brought his arm up and stabbed Death in the leg with the fragment.

Death howled, his cowl falling back from his face. "You will pay for that, you stupid little..."

"You probably want to get that looked at first, Skeletor."

Smoke rose from Death's leg. He glanced down at it. "No matter. I have what I came for." With another ear shattering crack, he disappeared.

"Saul," the world closed in, becoming a pin point.

Saul shushed her. "You've gotta conserve your strength."

Zoe gave a breathy laugh. "There's none left to conserve."

"But you've gotta stay with me. You're the key."

"I don't think I am anymore. I think that part's over. I feel... empty."

"Dammit, Zoe! We make a good team! I can't save the world without you."

Zoe choked out, "I'm not sure you have a choice."

Saul looked at her. "You are such a drama queen, dude." He sighed, "But if I have to..." He placed his hands on her wound and closed his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

His hands began to glow with a soft shimmering light. Zoe felt something like an adrenaline rush jolt through her. Strength flooded her system, and she pulled herself up.

"How did you do that?" Laughing, she reached to hug Saul.

And her arms went right through him. Frantic, she grabbed at his fading form.

"Saul!" She screamed.

"See you later." He smiled. "You got this, dude."

And he disappeared.
Chapter 14

Zoe laid on the floor. She laid there as the firemen arrived and put out the fire, watching the arcs of water shoot out of the hoses over and around her. She laid there as they trampled through her, scanning the smoky remains of the diner for anymore survivors. She listened to them whispering about the living victims and how they were claiming that some unseen force had dragged them to safety. She didn't even move when the owner of the diner stood almost in her head as he talked on his cell phone with the insurance adjuster and surveyed what was left, choking back tears.

She laid on the floor in the husk of the diner until the sun came up and everyone was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Her stupid decision had cost everyone. She had no allies, no friends. Telling Pete the wrong location meant he never showed up to help them. She should have known Gork would follow her; he was as loyal as a trained puppy dog.

_Was_.

And Saul... that was the worst. How dare he treat her like she was a hero in the end? Where did he get off saving her when she was the idiot that had gotten them all into this mess? It was just thoughtless and rude, not to mention completely undeserved on her part. They hadn't been a _team_. She thought of the first excuse she could to dump him as soon as they were in the diner. She always did anything she could do to not feel dependent on someone. She found a way to get rid of everyone in her life before they could get rid of her, and now here she was, repeating the same pattern in death. In life it had just meant occasional hurt feelings and withdrawn invitations. In death it cost people their souls.

Way to up the ante, sunshine!

She didn't want to move. Moving somehow meant accepting the gift of Saul's soul, a gift she didn't deserve. So she laid there, completely still, letting the world move on without her.

The rat's arrival changed her outlook somewhat. Hearing scrabbling sounds near her, she turned her head. The long, whiskered nose sniffed at the charred floor, seeming to eyeball her in an unwelcoming manner. It reached out its tiny, human-like claw towards her and she bolted upright. In death as in life, the arrival of vermin signified that the time to move on had come.

She scrambled to her feet and made her way out of the husk, delicately tiptoeing through what was left of a wall. Not knowing in what direction to aim her feet, she wandered through streets lined with trees. She watched soccer moms driving by in their minivans, sticky little children in safety seats in the back. She saw people mowing their lawns with ear buds in, sweat sticking their shirts to their frames. She passed people walking their dogs, enjoying a sunny morning. The same thought kept drifting into her mind. _All of these people will be dead soon. None of them know how precarious their lives are._ There was no question in her mind that Death would keep killing, keep creating this chaos. To what end, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she screwed up their only chance to stop him. After trudging for what seemed like hours, she found her feet on the welcome mat at Hank and Ethel's door.

It was that moment that she realized she had been purposefully walking away from Saul's safe house. Saul and Gork were gone anyway, and Peter can deal with her mother. If the insanity couldn't be stopped, she was going to spend the rest of what little time she had left in her safe space. Sighing, she walked through the front door.

#

Zoe spent the next few days sitting on Ethel's couch, watching her fidget as Hank did a terrible job taking care of himself and the household duties. Ethel was recovering, but her doctor told her no strenuous activity, and this included cleaning or cooking. So the couple ate burnt mac and cheese or dry sandwiches, once a box of takeout Chinese changing things up a bit. Meanwhile, the plants wilted, dust collected in the corners, and Ethel fidgeted. To her credit, she only smiled and thanked Hank for all he was doing for her during her convalescence. Zoe wondered at the sheer force of will that must take. She resolved to do something about some of this on her own. She couldn't cook meals or tidy up without someone noticing, but she could water flowers and dust corners, so this is what she did. Helped keep her mind off the things she was trying her best to avoid thinking about anyway.

On day three, Ethel received a phone call from her friend Joan, and upon explaining her dire dietary circumstances, Joan came over within the hour with a fresh casserole.

Zoe sat in the room with the pair, pretending to be part of the visit. This is how she got to hear Ethel's side of her ordeal.

"Well," Ethel started, "I was on the step ladder in the kitchen, trying to get down the casserole dish to make my famous lasagna. Oh, I should give you the recipe! It's Hank's absolute favorite." She looked around, leaned over, and in a whisper, added, "The secret is that I use sausage instead of just plain old ground beef." She sat back with a conspiratorial smile as Joan gave the proper impressed nod. "I thought Hank deserved a treat. He's been so good about keeping his cholesterol down."

There followed a five minute conversation about lasagna and what sort of cheeses were really authentic and the merits of homemade tomato sauce as opposed to jarred. During all of this, Zoe wanted to scream _who cares? You're both going to be dead soon, anyway!_ She forced the thought away as Ethel came back to her story.

"So anyway, I was on the ladder. When I twisted to step back down, I must have lost my balance, because the next thing I know I'm on the floor. Well, at first I thought I was all right, you know, just startled, so I tried to stand up. When I did, the most terrible pain went through my upper leg. When I put weight on it, I fell again. Well, I just thought I would die!"

"Oh you poor dear!" Joan responded appropriately. "What happened next?"

"I decided to try crawling towards the phone. But every time I tried to move my left leg, my eyes would go all funny and my stomach would turn. I only made it a short distance before the walls closed in and I must have lost consciousness. Did you know that right before you faint your vision looks like the snow that used to come on the TV when the reception was bad? It's, very... what do the kids say? Oh, yes, retro!"

Joan stated that she had not been aware of this phenomenon. She wondered if it was just Ethel or if this was the experience that everyone had? Ethel suggested having her daughter research it on the internet. Zoe thought about her visions always starting that way, but shrugged the thought away.

"Anyway, I was in and out, so to speak, for everything else. All I know is that I woke up a little bit later to a loud clatter. When I opened my eyes, the phone had fallen on the floor right in front of me. Almost as though it had _jumped_ off the cradle."

Joan asked if it was just possible that it had fallen to the floor.

"I just don't see how. It landed right in front of me! I tried to use it, but I just couldn't move. I think I might have been in shock, you know like in that hospital TV show with the cute young doctors where every week some accident victim is in shock and has to be slapped or doused with water or something else that surely doesn't happen in real hospitals!"

"Oh, surely not! I would think those young doctors would get sued!" Joan exclaimed. This led to yet another discussion about how the world had become lawsuit happy and how back in their day if a doctor slapped a patient the patient would say thank you, but people were stronger back then and not looking for other people to blame for their problems. Joan was sure that the psychiatric profession was to blame for making society so soft. Ethel thought it was the public schools for abandoning spanking. Zoe thought it didn't really matter, everyone was going to be dead soon, anyway. Then she wondered if the little break she was giving herself wasn't helping as much as she'd hoped.

Finally, just as Zoe started going to a very dark place in her mind, Ethel returned to the story and gave her a respite from her thinking.

"I fell asleep again. In my sleep, I heard the strangest noises. There was a whispering right next to my ear. It was very funny. It sounded like it was coming through static. I remember wondering if I had left the radio on somewhere in the house. But I knew that I hadn't listened to the radio that day – the only show I like is the one on Public Radio with the southern gentleman who tells all those stories and does the impersonations, and it's only on Saturdays."

"Oh, I love that show, too!" Joan interjected, but Ethel was not about to let her derail the story just as she was getting to the good part.

"Well, the next time I woke up I could have _fallen out_ from embarrassment! Someone – or something – was lifting my shirt! Then the staticky voice said something about my chest moving." Ethel tugged at the hem of her shirt, as if making sure the event wouldn't happen again. "I did not know what that meant, but I was pretty sure it was inappropriate!"

"Oh, my!" Joan exclaimed, and also adjusted her shirt.

"When I came to next, there was a cool cloth on my forehead, _and_ I was sure there was a young woman crouching next to me. I would swear I saw her. She was wispy like all those angels on that show I used to watch. You know, the one with the skinny one and the fat one that came to earth to help people solve crimes or find their long lost siblings and were always dressed in pretty flowing gowns?"

"Oh, she was in a flowing gown?" Joan was excited. "Did she have wings? Oh, or a halo?"

"Well, no..." Ethel looked embarrassed. "Frankly, this girl's clothes were quite a bit more risqué than that."

Joan looked crest fallen.

"But she was still definitely wispy! And she had this... glow about her. That's a sign, you know." Ethel dropped her voice to a whisper, "that something is not 'of this world'."

Joan nodded, rapt in the story. Zoe found herself rapt, too.

"Anyway, I fell asleep again and the next thing I know I wake up in an ambulance. This cute young paramedic – don't tell Hank I said that, you know how jealous he gets – is looking at me and asking who my doctor is. I told him Dr. Rogers, and then he asks me the strangest thing. He asks me where my granddaughter is. I tell him that she's in Milwaukee of course and what does it matter anyway? He looks confused and starts asking me if I know my name and where I live. I tell him my name is Ethel Jane Lawson and asked him why he needed to know where I lived, didn't he just pick me up from my house?"

Ethel paused for the giggle – this was her favorite part of the story. Joan supplied it and she went on.

"He didn't say anything to that, and I fell asleep again. When I woke up I was in a room at the hospital. A nurse walks in and asks how my granddaughter is and if I knew where she might be. She said they were all very concerned. Well, I was just exasperated and had to ask why everyone was so interested in my granddaughter. I thought she might be in some kind of trouble and maybe this was all a setup and I wasn't really hurt at all, that I had been drugged or something and maybe this wasn't even a hospital, it was CIA headquarters and they were trying to use me to get to her. You know, like in that episode of _Detective MacNamara_ , only it was his brother and the mafia."

"I _loved_ that episode!" responded Joan. "Although I always hoped that Detective MacNamara and his brother would work out their differences and open a private detective business together."

Ethel nodded in agreement, but was too hot on her story to get sidetracked now. Truthfully, Zoe was also hanging on her every word. What a hero she was in this story! "So, I wouldn't tell them anything. I told them I need a lawyer and my husband. Well, that shut her up quick and she left. Finally, Hank showed up. He looked so worried." Ethel beamed and brought her wedding band festooned hand to her chest. "Well, you know how my Hank is. He just loves me so much. He came to me and gave me a big hug. He asked me if I was okay. _Then he asked me where our granddaughter was_. I asked him why everyone was asking me that and told him that he knew very well where she was. That's when he told me that the nurse told him that the paramedic told her that _my granddaughter_ had been the one to call 911. _From inside my house_."

"What?" Joan's hands flew to her mouth in astonishment. "How?"

"I don't know, but whoever called 911 said that she was my granddaughter. When she hadn't been at the scene when the paramedics showed up, they were worried that she was a little girl and was afraid of the sirens and hiding somewhere in the house alone. And every time someone had questioned me about it, I had, obviously, given them strange answers. Hank told them that our granddaughter is 22 years old and married to a military man stationed in Milwaukee. He said that it must have been a neighbor or something and that there was some sort of mix up. Of course, he's a man, so they believed him and stopped bothering me." She shared a long-suffering look with Joan. "But, I remembered the wispy figure that had been holding the cold washcloth on my forehead. When they released me two days later and I got home, I asked Hank to check the kitchen floor and there it was! The washcloth!"

This was Ethel's big finish. She waited for the proper gasp from Joan followed by the required silent reverence before moving on.

"There is no way I could have gotten to the sink in my state and wet a cloth myself. Joan," Ethel spread her arms like a detective about to reveal the plot twist, "the girl who did that is the one who called 911. She is my guardian angel! She just has to be! That's the only explanation! Oh sure, Hank still sticks with his story about the neighbor, but then how come none of them have been over here to check on me? If they knew I had been rushed to the hospital, and certainly if they called the ambulance themselves, surely they would follow up to make sure I was okay? I know it was an angel. I just know it!"

Zoe sat back on the couch. _I'm not your guardian angel, Ethel. In fact, this very evil part of me wishes I'd never helped you._ If she hadn't helped Ethel, she never would have found confidence in herself. That confidence is what led her to think she could face the devil. That cockiness is what got her friends killed.

_Not killed, dude. Ended_. She could hear Saul saying it, just as if he was in the room. The guilt of him giving his all to save her followed her every day. She heard his voice constantly, no matter how she tried to quiet it.

Get back out there, dude!

Find Peter!

Man, what are you doing?

Don't let my death be in vain, dude!

Zoe pushed the thoughts away, tried with all her might to ignore them. And then she hears Ethel calling her a guardian angel. Never mind the anatomical incorrectness she's recently learned, she was no one's savior. The world was coming to an end, she was sure of it. But yet she sat in her safe place, finding herself unable to do anything about it.

Joan stayed for a few more minutes, giving her best wishes to Ethel and thanking God for her "angel".

Zoe couldn't take anymore praise, so she stepped outside to water the plants.

Peter was on her front porch.
Chapter 15

Death smiled at his pet and gently stroked his cheek with a bony finger.

Although accustomed to destroying rather than creating, he could not help but think he had gone above and beyond what he had hoped in creating his pet.

Slicing a soul cleanly in half so that at least one side could survive on its own was no easy task. Making sure that what you remove is all of the humanity, keeping only the anger, bitterness, and hate was even harder and making sure _that_ was the side that lived was almost impossible. He knew. Trial and error, mostly error, had been his constant companion for the few years he attempted it. But what was a few years when you were immortal? The blink of an eye, the pulling of a pin from a grenade, the rat-a-tat of a machine gun.

But he eventually got his Frankenstein. Or more accurately, his Frankenstein's Monster. Mary Shelley had droned on and on about the difference when he had taken her down the River Styx. It is actually what had given him the idea.

Once he had achieved the perfect half-soul, it then had to be trained, strengthened, made better. It also had to listen. This part was not an option. It had to be the perfect combination of obedience and rage.

He had worked so hard to break his pet, while simultaneously building its strength. Then _she_ had come along and almost destroyed it.

He had known she would be a problem. He figured out what happened, that she had absorbed the humanity, the _discard_ that he had left behind to die. _Of course I figured it out before anyone else even suspected it. With my age has come a wisdom few others possess._ She kept showing up when his pet had gone on his missions to build his undead army; a pest that would not go away.

First, he sic'd the crazies on her. But as he woke them, their _consciences_ soon revived also, and before he knew it, they were helping her and the enemy in general.

He soon realized a personal visit was in order, during which he had outdone himself with a simple parlor trick involving a seemingly demonic squirrel that should have scared her silly. It instead, apparently accomplished nothing.

And now she had gone and tried to break his toy. Death could feel the strength still running through him, more than before, actually. But he could also feel something else, something that he had successfully cut away from him, after _so much_ practice.

It would take years to make a new toy, and after he had come so far with this one. He was not willing to start over, not with his goal so close; his undead army over half complete and he, so... very... tired.

He rubbed at the spot on his leg. It smarted and still smoked where the fat man had stabbed him. Whatever the weapon he had used, it remained lodged there and no amount of tugging budged it. This was not an additional annoyance that he needed.

His bones already ached in a way he felt sure no one had ever felt before. They ached with the weight of billions of weightless souls. They ached from the fires of hell singeing them every day, from the blaze of heaven's pure light falling on them, but never inviting them in to rest. He went everywhere, but received a welcome nowhere. The hazards of the job ate at his... he was not sure what he had. Not a soul. Something less, certainly, but something strong enough to never die. Unless he forced the situation.

No, his now defective toy would have to do. His exhaustion wore him down too much to start again.

He leaned down. "Wake up," he whispered in Trey's ear.

His pet's eyes open slowly and adjust to the light. When they alight on Death, he sits up and scrambles backward.

"Sh, sh, sh," Death soothes him with a bony hand. "Do not tell me you have forgotten Dear Old Dad? The witch did not do that much damage, did she?"

"What?" Trey shakes his head, as if he's trying to clear the cobwebs. "No, no." He rubs his eyes.

"Good, because it is time."

"Time?"

"I must say it is trying how stupid you are. I can see that whatever she added to you, it was not smarts."

"Don't call me stupid." Trey raised a hand to Death.

Death casually brought up his scythe and buried it in Trey's palm. "Is there something you would like to say to me?"

Trey shook with pain and rage, but he did not move. Looking Death right in the eye sockets, he said, "No."

"No, _what_?" Death asked.

"No, _sir_ ," Trey responded, his lip quivering.

Death yanked the scythe out of his hand. "That little witch better not have given you back your spunk. Although I did so enjoy crushing it the first time." He wheeled on him, leaving the room. "Rest well. Tomorrow, you call our undead army to serve."

#

_Did Peter ever sit down?_ Zoe found herself wondering

Saul played poker with him on Tuesday nights, so surely he must. It would make for a very awkward game otherwise. Zoe smiled briefly at the thought of Saul trying to surreptitiously peek up Peter's robe to see if saints were anatomically correct.

I mean, dude, they don't need all their parts, do they? Of course, neither do I, but I'd be pretty upset if somebody took them!

Saul's voice in her head again. The guilt stabbing her felt like the pain of losing half her soul happening all over again.

The guilt made her crazy. That would make sense. Everything she'd been through in the last couple of weeks would make anyone lose their minds.

She realized she had been staring at Peter for close to a minute now, and he at her. Neither of them had spoken.

Peter broke the silence. "You told me the wrong location."

"Yes."

"The others are gone."

"Yes."

"I could have protected all of you."

"I know." Zoe felt the same stab of pain in her heart and pushed past Peter to sit down on the top step. He sat next to her.

I guess he does sit.

"Zoe..."

"I know, okay? I know. They're gone and it's my fault. I thought I knew what to do. I thought I could take care of the baddie and get the hell – sorry – _heck_ out of there and save the world and... and..." hot tears welled up out of her eyes. She thought of her mom. She hated that she wanted nothing more at this moment than to curl up and have her mom hold her while she cried.

"I know I have no right to cry. I brought all of this on myself. On all of us."

"You can cry. You lost some people that were important to you." He sighed. "Your mother is still at Saul's safe house. You can talk to her if you need to. We have sort of run out of things to say to each other anyway. She has exhausted my knowledge on where dead rock stars go and if sex outside of marriage being a sin is at all flexible. That woman is... something."

Zoe laughed a little through the tears. "You've got that right. I'm sorry I left her with you. I couldn't go back. I wasn't ready." She rested her head on her knees. "I'm not ready."

"She has been worried about you."

"Yeah, sure." Zoe looked away, not wanting Peter to know how much she wanted to believe that.

"She was. She said that if she was not stuck in a liposuction machine she would be kicking the living tar out of me for letting you go on your own and not finding you immediately. Her words."

"You didn't let me go on my own. I lied to you."

"Yes, but I knew you were lying."

"How did you know?"

"Your lips were moving," Peter smirked.

"That joke isn't as fresh as you think it is." Zoe picked at her boots. "And, if you knew, then why did you let me do it? You had to know I would screw it all up. It's what I do." The tears again. "And now Gork is gone forever and Saul sacrificed himself for me and here I am with nothing but an old dude and a liposuction machine to help me save the world!"

_Aw, you said dude!_ Saul's voice again. She was officially losing it.

"So you are ready to try to save the world again?"

"I didn't say that." Zoe wiped her eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

"When you did not come back, I worried. Then I found this," he pulled Zoe's cell phone out of his pocket. "I believe you are... that blip." He pointed to a flashing dot on the screen.

Zoe stared at Saul's app. She asked again, "So, why did you let me do it? And why did you come find me now?"

"I have come to find you now because the grieving time is over. We must attend to the business at hand."

"So, the time is nigh and all that?" Zoe attempted sarcasm.

"And I let you go alone in the first place because sometimes, you have to let people do what they need to do. If there is anything I have learned in all these years, it is that my way is not the only way. It took me a long time to realize that. I stumbled quite a bit before I finally accepted it." He looked at her.

"Well, I officially accept that my way isn't the only way. My way is the _worst_ way."

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" Peter turned his face to Zoe. She didn't see any anger in his eyes, only concern. "Do you want to start with Gork?" He put his calming hand on her shoulder and she told him everything.

"And now I keep hearing Saul's voice in my head. Way to ratchet up the guilt, subconscious."

"I once betrayed a friend that was very dear to me. Even worse, I did it thrice. And I did it to save my own flesh. The guilt led me to hide and weep. Within three days, that great man forgave me. When Saul sees you again, he will forgive you."

"No, it doesn't feel like just guilt. I mean, it's like he's living in my brain. It's like I can feel him bursting with pride that you just essentially called him a 'great man'." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I'm pretty sure I'm losing it."

"Hmm... Boastfulness? That does sound like Saul. Come here." St Peter motioned her closer and placed a hand on top of her head. After a moment, he smiled. "Go and see him. I can handle your mother for a few more hours."

"See Saul?" Zoe's heart fell. "There's no seeing Saul. I just told you. He's... he is..."

"Saul sacrificed a part of his soul to save you; that is true. And if you do not get it back to him quickly, there is a chance he could be gone for good. But I think you have learned from your experience. I do not think you will let him down."

Zoe couldn't process what he said. She watched Saul fade away. She destroyed him with her stupid ideas and hang ups.

_Dude, you think I_ died _for you? This is what I've been trying to tell you. Get over yourself, Cargill_.

Zoe's heart jumped. Hope flooded her being.

"Where is he?"

"When a soul is wounded, and it does not have anything else to latch onto, it goes back to its last known location."

"Last known location?"

"Its body. The other half of Saul's soul will most likely be at the cemetery." Zoe knew where to go. She ran down the porch steps and up the street.

St Peter called after her, "I could get you there instantly!"

Zoe didn't hear. As she raced towards the cemetery, she could feel the tug at her heart. She swung through the entrance, the pull telling her exactly which grave was his. She ran to it and fell to her knees, the tugging so strong she felt like her heart would rip out of her chest and dig through the grass of its own accord.

"Saul!" She yelled. "Saul!"

"Zoe?" She heard a faint voice reply. She had never been so happy to hear a voice from a grave.

"You're not dead! I didn't kill you?"

Her eyes blurred with tears yet again.

"No, but could you do me a favor?"

"Anything!"

"Could you hurry up and get me whole? It stinks down here."
Chapter 16

Zoe spent the next few days at Saul's safe house with her mother and St Peter, waiting for something to happen that would help them know what to do next. No longer armed with her visions, she found herself unsure of how to proceed. St Peter suggested that they keep an eye on the TV and the internet news sites to watch for more tragedies unfolding. She played "I Spy With my Little Eye" with Saul umpteen times. She tried to think of other games you could play with someone in your head, but Saul apparently was not a fan of "I Went to the Store and Bought A..."

On the upside, this gave her two whole days to spend nonstop with her mother, which wasn't awkward at all. She had said what she needed to say to Susan already, but Susan apparently wasn't done talking to her. Now that their relationship had reached a level of openness never achieved in life, Susan wanted to tell Zoe _everything_.

The first day, this amounted to "You know, I lost my virginity at sixteen. He played _lead_ guitar in 'Penultimate Demise'. They were a 'Megadeth' cover band. He was so cool. All my friends were jealous."

Zoe didn't look away from the TV, her arms crossed in front of her. She felt Saul snickering.

The second day, Susan escalated to

"Everyone says marijuana is a gateway drug, but I say only if you want a gateway to a good time! Do you suppose there's anything like pot in the afterlife?"

Zoe rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What? I wouldn't actually _do_ it! I'm just asking for... informational reasons."

The third day, she decided to impart to Zoe who her father was.

"I was wasted out of my mind."

Zoe turned up the TV.

"It was at this club that was entirely lit with black lights and decorated in fluorescent paint. I just remember that his teeth were _really_ white."

Zoe raised the volume again.

"I think his name was Jim. Or Tim. It was something that ended in '-im'. Or maybe it was Robert."

Zoe could take it no more. She stood up.

"Ugh! Are you kidding me with this? I'm glad we've agreed on a new, closer, personal relationship, but this is getting ridiculous!"

"What? I thought we were beyond all this? I thought now we could, you know, share things?"

"Mom, I'm all for sharing, but really? Do _you_ want to know everything about _me_?"

"Of course!"

"Ok, well _I_ lost _my_ virginity at age-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're not a virgin?"

"Mom! Come on."

"No, you were right, I _don't_ want to hear this. I thought I raised you better than that."

"Really?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"You and 'Jim Tim Robert'?"

"Now that I think about it, it _could_ have been Alberto."

" _Oh my God_!"

Zoe threw up her hands and turned to leave the room. She walked smack into Peter, who had come flying around the corner at top speed.

"Turn on the news! Turn on the news!"

Zoe snapped to attention.

"Which channel?"

"Any of them! Just find the news!"

Zoe grabbed the remote and started clicking. She stopped on channel 23. A perky eyed, big haired anchorwoman sat behind a desk next to a graphic that read "Sight of the Living Dead."

Luckily, the TV still blared loudly from Zoe trying to drown out her mother earlier.

"What seems to have been a college prank left one funeral home director white as a ghost. Kevin has the story. Kevin?"

The screen cut to an overexcited young man standing outside of a building.

"Hi, Sabrina. I'm here at the Mount Kickabucket Funeral Home with the owner, Will Kickabucket. Will, you say that you thought you'd seen a ghost here today?"

He stuck his microphone in the face of an older man with a thin mustache.

"Um, it's pronounced Keek-a-bouquet actually. Like an arrangement of flowers. And yes, we had quite a scare earlier. My embalmer was pulling out a... customer to work on. Just as he was getting started, the man got up off the table and walked away!"

"I guess he didn't like what the embalmer was about to do to him, huh?"

"The embalmer was about to do his _job_."

Kickabucket sighed heavily. "Anyway, at the same time, _every_... customer... in the mortuary began doing the same. They all got up off their tables and walked out!"

"Slow day at the funeral home, what with all the dead people walking, huh?"

"Young man, if you say 'huh' to me one more time, I will..."

Kickabucket remembered the camera. He turned to it.

"If anyone has any information on what happened here today, or the names of these _hooligans_ please let us know. Kickabucket Funeral Home does not do business this way. We want the public to know that your loved ones are safe with us. Do not let this story deter you from doing business with us."

Kevin turned to the camera.

"You heard it here on Live at 5."

Kickabucket lunged towards the camera.

"Embalming on your first body half off! Lakeside cemetery plots! Come on by!"

The scene cut back to the studio, interrupting him.

"Thanks, Kevin! Now over to Eugene for the weather! It's a real scorcher out there!"

Zoe turned to Peter.

"Okay, what does this mean?"

"I think it means the souls are rising."

"What do we do? Where do we go?"

"I do not know."

"Why do I even bother asking you questions?"

A commotion from the TV caught Zoe's attention, and she turned to watch. The anchorwoman interrupted the weather reporter.

"Eugene... Eugene! Breaking news! What appeared earlier to be an isolated incident seems to be... spreading."

She put her hand up to her ear, listening to something.

"There are reports of a pile-up on I-30. Let's go to chopper Dave. Chopper Dave, can you see anything?"

The screen cut to a man in a helicopter, looking perplexed.

"There appears to be... on the highway... a lot of... people... walking... in traffic..."

"What does it look like down there? Can you get a camera on it?"

"Oh, God! It's anarchy! People... walking into cars! Everywhere! The humanity!"

Chopper Dave kept his wits long enough to turn the camera to the highway. There, on I-30, were hundreds of people walking across the highway, seemingly unaware of the cars that were running into them and over them. They were in various stages of clothing, from hospital gowns to completely naked. Some of them were holding their innards in their hands, obviously having just stepped out from an autopsy. All were shuffling in the same direction.

Zoe turned to look at Peter, and realized that her mom, who had never since being a lipo machine moved on her own, now rolled towards the door.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"I don't know, honey. Just gotta go."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"This way."

Zoe grabbed her hose and tried to pull her back. She kept going and pulled Zoe along like an ill-trained puppy on a walk. Zoe let go.

She turned to Peter. "She's an undead. She's going with them. What do we do?" Zoe asked.

"I think we have to follow her," Peter said.

"Again, why do I ask you things? I never like the answer."

#

They trudged along beside her mother's machine for a mile or so.

It stopped being shocking after the first few times that other undead streamed out of a cemetery, a funeral home, and a hospital to join them in their walk. Passersby slammed cars to a halt or ran to the other side of the street to get away from them, but no one interfered in their progress. _Probably all seen too many zombie movies and know better_.

"This seems very... anticlimactic" Zoe said.

"Do not worry. You will get your climax soon enough." Peter responded.

Saul giggled in Zoe's head. _Okay, you little fifth grader,_ she thought at him, _he knows not what he says._

Zoe touched the sleeve of a guy walking next to her. He didn't respond. "At least they're all... fresh." She glanced over just in time to see a finger fall off a woman. "You know, relatively."

Zoe heard sirens in the distance. "Oh, no. Someone called the police."

The sound came ever closer until they came up over the horizon, a long line of police cars headed straight their way.

Zoe looked around. It seemed as if the undead mob didn't hear or see anything. They just continued to shuffle forward.

The cop cars pulled up and made a barrier across the road. The police officers stepped out and aimed their guns at the group.

One put a bullhorn to his lips. "We don't know what this prank is, but if you stop now, we'll go easy on you."

_Yeah, this looks like a bunch of cops ready to go easy_ , Zoe thought. The army trudged forward.

The officer spoke again, "We are warning you, if you do not stop this prank we have been authorized to use force."

Zoe looked to Peter. "What do we do?"

Still walking, Peter closed his eyes and raised his hands, robes twined in his fingers. "Oh, God, help us to decrease so that You may increase, to be hidden that You may be revealed. To be forgotten, such that You may be remembered."

"Okay, that was pretty." Zoe said. "But what exactly did it accomplish?"

"It was a prayer of invisibility and forgetfulness."

"So?"

Then she saw the sirens go off. The police officers holstered their weapons and got back in their squad cars. Some were scratching their heads and kept looking down the road in their direction, but they all slowly pulled their cars away and left.

"Okay, then." Zoe looked up. "Nice one, big guy."

"I'm sure He's happy you approve." Sarcasm dripped from Peter's voice.

"Look, up there!" Zoe pointed to a place in the trees. All of the undead were turning off the road in that same place. "I think we're close."

When they got to the turn off, Peter held Zoe's arm and let the others pass.

"What are you doing? We have to follow them!"

"Let them go first. Once Death is distracted, we will make our approach."

"But if we wait until he has his entire army..."

"Right now he is vigilant, waiting for some sign of us. Once he is distracted and _thinks_ himself on the verge of victory, that's when we will strike."

"Oh, good. A plan. That involves my mother going in there alone." She huffed. "Love it."

"We'll wait for the last undead to enter. Or for dark. Whichever comes first."

"Yes, we definitely wouldn't want sunlight to fight the undead. That's for sure."

"Again, the cover of darkness helps us to make our surprise entrance."

"Fine." Zoe sighed. She watched the mob stream toward a distant warehouse.

And they waited.
Chapter 17

Zoe stared through the slats into the shabby warehouse. She scanned the dimly lit room looking for her mother.

Dammit, where is she?

The warehouse was so highly warded that she couldn't walk through the walls. Luckily, Peter could see the dim glow of the spells surrounding the place and warned her. Otherwise she would have given herself away simply by walking straight into one of the metal walls, announcing her presence with a thousand thunderous reverberations.

A light came on in the room. Dim at first, it grew in intensity until Zoe had to look away, blinking, until her eyes adjusted. When she looked back, there stood Death, with Trey behind him, wheeling her mother along by the hose. She (her machine?) seemed unscathed. Zoe breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, you big dumb oaf, get started. Try it on Susan first." Death indicated Zoe's mother's machine.

Trey bristled, but he walked to the machine obediently.

"Um... walk!" He commanded the wheeled machine.

"It can't walk, it's a machine, you idiot!"

"Oh, um... roll! Over there!" Trey gestured vaguely.

Susan started rolling.

What the crap?

The machine moved under its own volition, slowly at first, but picking up speed as it went.

Death, obviously giddy, jumped up and down and clapped, his bones rattling like a wooden cage. He let out an insane, gurgled laugh.

"It worked, it worked!"

He grabbed Trey's hands and danced him around the room, a comical vision.

He stopped abruptly and Trey, following through on a turn, slammed into the warded wall. Death unfazed, seemed to stare directly at Zoe and Peter as he said, his voice an ominous whisper, "Now call the rest."

Even though Zoe thought it impossible for bone to curl into a snarled smile, she could swear that Death's just did.

Trey crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked scared, lost, confused, like a little boy left alone without his mama.

"No" he said. Death, in the middle of a high pitched giggle, choked.

"What?"

In a flash, he crossed the room, scythe appearing in his hand. Trey dangled off the floor with Death's bone hand in a grip around his neck.

"I haven't come this far for you to get a... conscience."

His mouth spit out the last word, as though expelling phlegm from the back of his throat.

"I don't know what's happening to me, but I can't, I won't! It's too much! What you want, it's too much!"

Trey choked out the words, his hands around Death's ulna, pulling hard as he flailed in the ever tightening grasp.

"Do you know what I could do to you? Do you? One swipe with this scythe and you would be gone forever. Not dead, not in hell, _gone_. It would be like you never existed in the first place! No one would miss _you_. You are an armpit stain on the world. I _made_ you into something that mattered. I will take it away if I need to."

"No, you won't."

Zoe looked around her to see where those words were coming from before she realized they had escaped her own mouth. _What did she care what happened to Trey? He had killed her! Good riddance!_

But, she did care. Dammit, she actually felt sorry for the guy. She knew he had some humanity. She had carried it around with her! And now that he had it back, granted with a little of hers too, he tried to do the right thing. He tried, she suspected, for the first time in his life to do the right thing. And, so far, he wasn't very good at it.

Death dropped Trey, and he scrambled out of the way and into the corner. With a tiny hand gesture, the slats that were the only protection between Zoe and Peter outside and Death inside were sucked away from the window and sent hurdling across the room, slamming Peter against the opposite wall and holding him there.

They were followed closely by the nails, securing him into place. He immediately started praying prayers for protection.

Death stood no more than three feet away from her, and his putrid odor filled her nostrils, making her grimace unintentionally.

"Oh, Zoe, thank you for arriving in such a timely manner." Saccharine dripped from Death's voice. "We might not have succeeded without you." He clapped his hands together, "Oh, this will be fun!"

The hum of Peter's prayers invaded Zoe's mind, and she couldn't comprehend what Death talked about. She hadn't moved since being discovered, struck frozen by surprise.

"Uh... what?"

"You didn't think we'd start the party without you, did you? I'll admit, with such a rocky relationship with Mommy, I wasn't sure you'd chase her down. But here you are. See Susan? I told you she'd come."

Zoe heard her mother's words, "It's a trap, Zoe! Get out of here!"

Death silenced her with a look. "Now don't give it all away. That's no fun!" He turned back to Zoe. "You see, dear, I need both of you to make this work. Both of your souls together in the same room. You will help fuel his hatred. You will make him want to do this."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Trey still crouched on his hands and knees across the room. "I don't hate her! I don't even know her!"

"Oh, you will. Just wait, you will."

Zoe finally found her voice. "Ha! Flaw in your plan there, killer."

She felt pretty confident that Trey had no reason to hate _her_. Granted, she had every reason to hate him, but her hatred wasn't what was needed. That's what he just said.

Death walked toward Zoe and lifted her face by the chin. His sockets searched deep into her eyes "You hate him for killing you, don't you?"

"I'm working on that." Zoe responded. "It's going to take a lot of therapy, but the good news is," she turned her head from Death's grasp and faced Trey, "I've got eternity to work it out. So thank you for that."

Trey looked away and Death chuckled. "You've got a good sense of humor. You both got that from your mother."

"Shut up" Susan whispered.

"What, you don't think it's time you told the kids?" Death asked the lipo machine innocently.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Susan bellowed, and Zoe could swear the machine shook.

She looked from her mother to Death. "What are you talking about?"

"You see, you hate him for killing you, and he is about to hate you."

Death walked to Trey and ran his bone finger down his arm. He looked sideways up at the young man.

"Because you're the one she _kept_."

The air left the room. Luckily, the dead didn't need it.

_He definitely grinned this time_ , Zoe thought.

"Kept? Kept from what? What the...?" Trey stammered, before the whole thing hit home in his head.

The two of them stared at each other, seeing each other close up for the first time. There it was. The same eyes, the same lips, the same, for lack of a better word, _dead_ stare.

_She_ was the one her mother had kept.

All of the anger of growing up lonely, forgotten, in a dozen foster homes with several dozen bullying, hateful siblings, screamed out of Trey.

_Oh, shit_. Zoe hadn't seen that coming. She backed towards her mother's lipo machine.

"Mother? You had more than one baby?"

Her mother, quieter and more timid than Zoe had ever known her to be, whispered, "Yes... I was so young when I had him. I didn't know what to do. I... I left him... at a safe place. I assumed he was adopted. No one knew I was pregnant. I hid it. I didn't know what to do when he came!"

Her voice sounded hysterical "I left him at a safe place!"

Trey spoke angry words through clenched teeth. "Well, from the safe _place_ , they took me to a foster home. _No_ one adopted me. I grew up in the system. I had _no one_."

His body began pulsating, like a mirage of water in the distance.

"That's it, let it out," Death spoke like a calming friend, stroking Trey's back. "Don't you want to help me, now? We can punish them. We can end it all. And I will never leave you."

Trey pulled himself up to his full height. Zoe backed across the room, keeping her eyes on Trey as she grabbed her mother's machine and pushed it behind her.

Peter raised his voice, his prayer reaching a fever pitch. Death stalked over to him. "Oh, would you _please_ put a sock in it!" He ripped a piece from his cloak and shoved it in Peter's mouth, silencing him. "Can you not see this family is in crisis? Be respectful!"

Death walked back to Trey, keeping his eye sockets on Zoe the whole time, and whispered in his ear. "Do it."

Trey raised his arms and started chanting, quietly at first, then louder until his yelling seemed to fill the whole room. "Come to me! Come to me! Come to me!"

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body continued its pulsating, appearing to rise up and catch fire.

Death danced around him, screaming the scream of a thousand demons, laughing the laugh of a thousand crazies.

Zoe cowered in the corner with her mother, hugging her machine tightly.

"Come to me! Come to me!"

The walls of the warehouse started shaking. Zoe wondered if they were causing some sort of earthquake, destroying the world physically. Then she saw them, pouring in through the hole Death had created when he'd seen Zoe. There must be thousands of them. They reminded Zoe of roaches, scurrying out of a room when the lights were turned on. All of the undead from Trey's previous antics were descending upon the warehouse. The small group she had come in with were nothing compared to the amount stampeding in now. The boards on the windows cracked and fell, and the walls gave way to the zombie-like people. They streamed and then poured into the warehouse, trampling over each other, a silent horde. Zoe had to hold tight to her mother's machine to keep her from rolling with the mass.

"Mom!" She screamed as she jerked it back one more time.

"Come to me! Come to me!" Death screamed.

"I don't want to go, but I can't help it. Zoe. It's not my choice."

"Mom, it _is_ your choice! I need your help! I can't defeat them on my own! I just got you back! I can't lose you again! I need you!" Zoe tugged at the machine, longing for it to be her mother's arms, longing to have those arms to sink into. She felt the sting of tears on her cheeks, the tightness of fear in her chest. She sobbed like she hadn't sobbed since she was five years old and lost at the state fair, sitting in the ticket booth with the angry, frizzy haired lady, waiting for her mother to come through for her.

Like she waited now.

Her mother rolled away.

Zoe watched as the mob, her mother included, surrounded Trey, who now hovered in the air over Death, his flesh a bright, glowing red and his face contorted into a sick smile. He looked the way Zoe had always envisioned Satan.

Death danced under Trey, doing the slide and laughing maniacally as he conducted an invisible orchestra. He stopped suddenly and focused his eye sockets on the crowd of people. He brought both arms down, fists closed. The thunderous foot falls silenced, and thousands of blank faces (and one lipo machine) looked up at Death.

Blank faces, but eyes that betrayed fear and confusion. Eyes that showed incomprehensible anguish. Above Death, Trey's head snapped up, as though suddenly waking from a dream.

"My minions!" Death's scream echoed through the crowd. "Dance, my minions, dance!"

Death mimed playing with puppet strings as the crowd kicked awkward legs and flailed stiff arms. The Macarena it was not. Death seemed pleased with it nonetheless.

"You are my army! Together we will begin the apocalypse! You will go down in the history of the world! Granted, you'll only be mentioned at the end, and no one will be left to see it..." That ugly grin that Zoe did not know how he even managed surfaced again.

This was it. This was how the world would end. Zoe felt in her heart that to stop this was her destiny, but she had no idea what to do next. At least Death had forgotten about her for the moment. She watched her brother – _her brother_ – as he floated above her. She had always wanted a sibling, someone to love and play with, someone to share her history with. And now she had one. And he was Satan. _Way to outshine the little sister_. She tried to communicate telepathically with him.

Hey, bro! Could you, maybe not do this? Come on, for little sis?

The look of concentration on his coal hot face did not falter. He did not receive her.

Fine, time to take matters into her own hands, as usual. She snuck along the wall to the imprisoned Peter. Taking care to be quiet, she reached up and gently pulled the sock out of his mouth. "Pray," she said to him quietly.

"Like never before," he responded.

"Oh, but quietly this time," Zoe hissed.

Peter turned red. "I will try to keep my zeal to a minimum."

Zoe started to pry at the nails holding the boards on him. With nothing to use but her hands, the work went slowly.

Help me, Saul.

Slowly, she felt a new strength in her arms, and the pulling became easier.

"Oh, little sister? What are you doing?" Death taunted. "Are you playing with big brother's toy?" His voice turned bitter. "Get away from it. You break things."

Peter stopped his prayer long enough to yell, "Zoe, look out!"

She saw the glint of metal out of the corner of her eye, and dodged left too late. The tip of the scythe ran along her side, opening the flesh. The familiar yellow shimmer, thin as smoke, began to leak out.

She fell to the floor, spying Peter's bone still protruding out of Death's leg. As he lifted his scythe for another attack, she grabbed it and twisted, pushing it deeper with all her strength. Death howled, and brought the scythe down, missing his mark.

Zoe scurried backwards.

Death, rubbing his smoking leg, looked up at her. "No matter. I have a better idea anyway." He looked towards her mother's machine, "Oh, Mommy Dearest?" He sing-songed the words. "Come here."

Her mother didn't. Death looked up at Trey. "Command her to come here to me!"

Trey did as we was told, and Susan rolled slowly toward Death. He lifted her hose, and slid the handle of his scythe down it. "Go take care of daughter, won't you?"

"I'm going to make your mother kill you!" Death danced around Zoe, chanting like a school yard bully. "I'm going to make your mother kill you!"

Her side burned where the scythe nicked her. She pressed her hand against it, as though trying to keep herself together. She could feel Saul weakening. His moans in her head were keeping her from being able to think straight.

And this was barely a nick!

She had to keep going, to save Saul and the whole damned world, even if she couldn't save herself.

She looked at her mother, who rolled slowly toward her, the scythe in the hose of her machine. Death stood behind her, prancing and waving his arms as though directing an orchestra.

"Okay, Mom. I know he's making you do these things. You don't _have_ to do them. You can fight this."

"I'm trying, baby. Really I am. But his powers are too strong. I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt you."

She got closer. Zoe backed into the wall.

"Then don't, mom. Tell that douche bag to shove it and make him fight his own battles."

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Death pantomimed pushing Susan along.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I was a lousy mom. You've turned out so amazing. I don't know how. It wasn't because of me. I can't even keep from hurting you _now_. I'm weak. I always have been."

She loomed almost on top of Zoe now, her hose up and ready to slash.

"Weak? Mom, I'm strong because you're strong. You always have been, just not always in the right way. You can be strong in the right way, this time."

"Oh, _shut up_!" Death screamed.

"This family drama is nauseating! If I was able to keep any food in my skeleton, it would be coming up now! Get on with it!"

Zoe fixed her gaze on her mother, whose hose hovered over her. She whispered. "I understand now. You could never ask for help, either. We're the same. I have to forgive you if I'm going to forgive myself. I love you, Mom." She closed her eyes, waiting for whatever would happen next. Saul's screams rang in her head as the scythe came down.

Zoe heard a clanging noise next to her. She opened her eyes to see the scythe, on the floor at her feet. She looked up towards her mother, who had rolled to a stop. She heard Saul, who had stopped screaming, say

_I think I just peed my ethereal pants_.

Death stood still, staring at Zoe and her mother with his hollow eyes.

"How dare you try and make me hurt my daughter!" Susan yelled at him. "I won't do it! I won't!"

Death approached her and grabbed her hose. "How interesting! Look who has become June Cleaver in the last five minutes. Well, that makes up for everything, I am sure. You all better, Zoe? Issues all taken care of? I hope so, because your mother is about to go bye bye"

He moved his bony arm in the direction of his scythe and attempted to call it back to him. It didn't budge. He turned to stare at it, cocking his head.

_Grab it now, Zoe!_ Saul said. _Grab it now. I can't hold the blessing much longer!_

Zoe snatched the blade off the ground, hugging it to her body.

Remembering her wound, she carefully kept the pointed end turned away from her.

Death dropped her mother's hose. Susan backed away quietly and disappeared into the mob of undead behind her.

"Now, how did you manage that little trick? You are stronger than I thought. Now give Daddy the scythe."

Death held out his hand and curled his fingers in, as though beckoning it.

It lurched in Zoe's grasp, but she held tight. She felt Saul's strength in her bones.

"Oh, it looks like I am going to need little brother. This really is a family affair, is it not? It warms the heart. Well, it would if I had one."

Zoe had almost forgotten Trey, who still appeared to be on fire, floating in the air above Death, eyes closed, controlling the hoard of undead with his mind.

Death snapped his bony fingers above his head, and Trey's eyes opened. He sank gently to the floor, alighting like a dancer.

"Your sister won't give me her toy. Take it and bring it to me."

Trey's head jerked in Zoe's direction. His eyes met hers, and they were filled with a burning hatred. The air around him shimmered like the air around an open flame, and his whole body flickered like a fire. He leaped at Zoe, hands out to retrieve the scythe. She swiveled to the right, barely avoiding the onslaught. Trey landed on all fours behind her and turned to advance again.

"Calm down, Red! Don't you know what this thing can do?"

She swung the blade in the air above her head, hoping she looked threatening, realizing as she lost her balance on the back swing that she probably didn't. She came crashing to the floor on her butt, the scythe skittering along the concrete away from her. Death seized the opportunity to try to call the thing to him again. Zoe felt Saul blessing it this time. She knew he wouldn't be able to hold Death back for long. She lunged for the weapon. She saw Trey from the corner of her eye lunging as well. Their hands found purchase at the same time, each on the opposite end of the handle. Zoe held firmly to the base, and Trey gripped the end near the blade. For a brief moment, they played tug-o-war, yanking it back and forth between them. Zoe felt it starting to slip from her palms, and she knew that her physical strength was no match for Trey's. She closed her eyes.

"Peter! I know you're incapacitated buddy, but I could use your help!" As if on cue, a crashing sound filled the room, followed by the wooshing of giant wings flapping through the air.

"I'm free! I'm free!" Fredrial practically screamed. He looked around, "But, what am I doing here?"

"Look behind you, you big stone dullard!" Peter yelled from his confines.

Fredrial turned, and seeing the undead army, rose up in the air above them, ready to strike.

"WHO DARES DISTURB SAINT PETER?"

At the sight of the giant angel Fredrial flying above him and the sound of his booming voice, Trey's hold on the scythe went limp.

A single word issued from Zoe's lips as she yanked the handle toward her, dragging Trey across the floor with it.

"Goooooorrrrkkkk!"

Now that's a battle cry!

She grabbed Trey's end of the handle and brought it towards her, holding it like a bar bell in front of her face. When she opened her eyes, she found herself eye to eye with her brother. She smiled.

"I'm going to win this now. I am so sorry for everything that happened to you. Living without a mom must have sucked. The truth is, living _with_ her wasn't such a picnic either. Everybody has their baggage. But guess what? You've gotta put it down if you wanna fight with both hands."

Zoe let go of the scythe.

Trey, stunned, staggered back a step.

"Oh, and this might hurt a little."

She threw her arms around him, hugging him as tight as she could.

Trey moved to push her off, but as soon as they touched, just like she'd expected, the half of her soul that he possessed tried to return to her. The ache of loss filled her, and the wound at her side throbbed. Every part of her yearned for that piece of her soul back. She wanted to push him away and tear at him to get to it, to make herself whole again. But she held on. She held on as Trey fought and grabbed at her, trying to get her away. She held on as he called his army to descend upon her. She held on as Fredrial held that army back. She held on as he pushed her back, knowing he was trying to get her into a position to attack her with the scythe he still clutched. As she retreated with him into the corner, keeping her eyes on the undead army shuffling their way, she willed her soul to connect with his, to reach out to him and find his humanity. She knew he possessed it; she had carried it around for a while. She knew she could save him; she knew he was worth saving. And so she hugged him until he stopped struggling and started to cry. His army halted their descent.

She whispered

"I love you, brother," gently sat him on the floor, and picked up the scythe. She walked through the throng to face her enemy.

Death had been watching the scene, seemingly amused, until the point when Trey had stopped his army.

"You broke my toy!" He screamed and stomped his foot like an indignant child.

"Aren't you immortal? Shouldn't you be over temper tantrums by now?"

"Do you know how long it took me to make that toy? Do you know how hard I worked to make this happen?"

"I don't know, villain from every James Bond movie ever. Why don't you tell me all about it?" Zoe swung the scythe lazily, proud of herself for keeping her balance this time.

"I just wanted it to be over. I am ready. It has been too long. Do you know what it is like to face death every day?"

"Just like any other dead end job - no pun intended - I imagine it gets tedious." Zoe kept the scythe between them as he moved closer.

"People are horrors. Drunk driving, wars, terrorism. I take fewer and fewer to heaven every year. It needs to end. Can you not see that?"

He stood within a few feet of her now.

"It is over. _This_ is over. You've lost."

She stopped swinging the blade and gripped it tighter.

"I do not need _him_ to control my army. I just need someone in the middle. A sort of liaison. _You_ are in the middle."

"Yes, but I'm not looking for a job. Thanks anyway."

"It can be a hostile takeover." Death reached out a finger and touched Zoe's wound.

Icy pain spider webbed through her body, and the world went fuzzy. Zoe fought to maintain her balance. She felt a bony hand covering hers, removing it from the scythe.

Not now! Not when I've come this far!

She reached out with her other hand, but she couldn't see what she was reaching for. Stumbling forward, she fell to her knees, pulling Death down with her. She heard a clattering noise and knew the weapon had fallen near her. Death laughed as she felt around on the floor.

"Getting colder! Oh, poor thing. You'll never find it!" She heard him kick it further away, taunting her.

Zoe stopped clamoring. She reached out her arm and drew a window in the fog of her mind, just like she had seen Saul do at the diner. The world cleared for a moment, and she saw the blade.

Grabbing it, she turned and made aim.

Death screamed as the weapon found its mark.
Chapter 18

"The outbreak seems to have been caused by a fly known as _Pseudacteon litoralis_ , which lays its eggs in an unsuspecting victim," the anchorwoman reported in a mismatched chipper voice.

"When the eggs hatch, the larva crawl to the brain and eat it, leaving the victim in a zombie-like state. Native to South America, it is theorized that one man on a recent trip must have been infected with the larva and returned here. As the fly has only previously infected ants, it is not yet known how it made the seemingly impossible leap to humans. Regardless, the outbreak has now been contained, and the victims' families notified."

She cocked her head to the side and gave a 100 watt grin.

"Now to Chip with sports."

She swiveled her chair to the side.

"How about those Gophers, Chip?"

"Well, I imagine they were happy to 'gopher' an away game last week, considering everything happening here!"

Zoe switched off the TV and turned to Saul.

"That was the best your guys could come up with? An ant disease?"

"Dude, we didn't have long. This way it's all tied up neatly and it explains the supernatural aspect."

He looked at his feet.

"It's pretty brilliant, actually."

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

"I read about this ant parasite a long time ago. They make _zombie ants_ , man! Perfect!"

"Just leave it to the living to figure out how the things made the transition to humans?"

"We'll drop in some clues, they'll find them. And done."

"It is so weird being on this side of it."

"You don't know the half of it. I'll tell you who really _did_ shoot JFK. The text books _and_ the conspiracy theorists have it so wrong, man!"

Zoe smiled and looked around the room as an excited Saul prattled on. She didn't know why she had wanted to come here. Some internal need to say goodbye to her first safe house, she supposed. Wherever her afterlife took her, she would always miss Ethel and Hank. Pretending to be their granddaughter had kept her sane the first few months after she'd died.

But, her work here was done. The reason she'd been placed in Ethel's home was to help her when she fell. Ethel could walk now, practically better than before, which meant Zoe had to leave to help someone else.

Schnookems stalked into the room, and Zoe crouched down to pet her, scratching the purring cat between the ears.

"You take care of Ethel, now," she whispered.

"You know Hank's sweet but useless, so it's on you."

The cat meowed and pushed her head into Zoe's open hand. She gave her one last scratch and stood up.

"And there it is, dude!"

Saul clapped his hands together as he finished his story.

"Mind blown! You never would have guessed it, would you?"

"Hm? Oh no, sure wouldn't have."

Zoe sighed.

"Okay, I'm ready."

They walked onto the front porch where St Peter, Trey, and her mother had been waiting. She looked at her hodge-podge band of misfits. St Peter stood straight and stern, almost Spock-like. Her mother looked like her mother again, out of the lipo machine and standing on two legs, her arm around Trey. She hadn't removed it from his bedraggled shoulders since she'd become her again. He didn't seem to mind. Zoe didn't feel the pang of jealousy she might have expected. She knew her brother needed their mom more than she did right now.

Peter approached Zoe. "I thought you would like to know that Gork went to heaven. I pulled some strings. She deserved it after joining the side of good and very possibly saving your soul."

" _She_?" Zoe couldn't believe it. "That was a...? Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. She arrived in heaven in some sort of animal skin that did not leave much to the imagination."

"Animal skin? How old was she?"

"The horns?" Peter gestured to his midsection. "It was a mastodon."

"Wow! Well, if you see her, tell her 'glib golb gorp'. She'll know what it means." Zoe was happy for Gork. You couldn't hope for better than heaven. She clapped her hands together. "Well, what next?" she asked.

"One more issue to resolve."

St Peter turned to Trey.

"We need another Death."

Trey's head shot up.

"What? No... no.... no."

"I'm sorry, but it's up to you to clean up your mess. And that means escorting those souls to their forever homes."

St Peter laid a gentle hand on Trey's shoulder and spoke in a calming tone.

Someone has to do it. It's time for you to grow up."

"And get a job!"

Zoe couldn't help herself. No one laughed.

"Can't joke about it yet?" She looked around the group. "Good to know."

Trey stared at St Peter for a moment before his eyes dropped. "I'm sorry."

"I know." St Peter responded in his Father Knows Best voice.

"I'll do it. It's up to me, and I can do it."

"You don't have to be the way _he_ was, you know." Zoe was serious. "You've got a support system here like no other." She indicated herself and her mother.

"I know." Trey's eyes met Zoe's. "Thanks."

Zoe smiled at him, then turned to Saul. "So where do I go next?"

"We're going to Saul's safe house to get you situated there." Peter answered.

"Um... okay, then where's Saul going?"

The two men exchanged looks.

"What's going on?"

"Saul is being... rewarded for his service."

"Rewarded? What? Like he's getting a bigger place?"

"You could say that..." Peter looked at the sky.

Zoe's eyes followed his and the reality dawned on her. She turned to Saul.

"I'm ascending," Saul confirmed.

"I can choose if I want to go around again or stay up in heaven. I can't make up my mind."

The news hit Zoe like a freight train slamming into a jello salad. "You're... you're... leaving me? But I just got you back. It's not fair."

Saul looked at St Peter. "Can we be alone for a minute?"

St Peter gave a nod and walked down the stairs to join Trey.

Saul put his hands on Zoe's shoulders. "I'm going to miss the hell out of you. Pun intended."

Zoe looked at him. With his disheveled hair, pock marked face, and protruding belly, she never would have given him the time of day in her life, but now she could not imagine her afterlife without him. "I think you should go around again. Who knows, maybe one day I'll be staying in your safe house and can help you."

His eyes found hers. "You already have, dude."

Zoe smiled at hearing Saul's favorite word, possibly for the last time, then she grabbed him around the neck and hugged him as tightly as she could. She whispered, "You are part of my family."

He stepped back. "Come on. Let's get this show on the road." They descended the steps to the others.

"So, if Saul's going to heaven, who is going to be my shepherd?" Zoe asked Peter when they had reached the group.

"You don't need a shepherd. You're going to be one yourself. You are being promoted."

"What? I'm going to be in charge of people? Helping them to cross over to Heaven? Does God know about this? Doesn't seem like a good idea."

"God knows. And you've already been assigned your first soul." St Peter looked at her mother.

"Oh, God no!"

"Taking the Lord's name in vain?" Peter tisked.

"No, I'm saying a prayer." Zoe looked up at the heavens. "Oh, God no!"
Epilogue

_The old man hasn't moved in five years. He exists in a catatonic state. Everyone is simply waiting for him to die and free up a bed. His children stopped visiting years ago, as soon as it became apparent that there was nothing left of his mind. Their checks still clear though, so the old man is looked in on a few times a day, given nutrition intravenously, and occasionally rolled to prevent bed sores. Outside of those times, he is alone, left to stare at the ceiling, or occasionally a wall when they elevate his bed (they never think to turn on the TV)._

This is why no one is there to notice when a flash happens in the room. No one sees the Will of

God as it is done. They might later catch a glimmer in the old man's eyes that hadn't been there before, if anyone ever bothered to look in his eyes. They might figure out that something was different.

But, instead, they continue to look in on him a few times a day and roll him occasionally. They talk about their personal lives in front of him because they assume he doesn't hear anything anyway. They complain about having to move him. They leave him in the dark more often than not, because they don't think he cares.

That is probably why they don't see his pinky finger lift. Or the tiny twitch of a smile that flashes at the corners of his mouth at that moment. They ignore him because they think he's just death waiting to happen.

They don't know how right they are.

###

Thank you for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, would you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite ebook retailer?

Thanks!

Shana
About Shana Saban

Shana Saban loves writing. Shana Saban is working on another book as you read this. Shana Saban is hoping it will not take another ten years to finish the next book, but Shana Saban makes no promises.

Shana Saban lives in Texas with her young husband and adoring two children. Shana Saban may have reversed the adjectives on that last sentence. Shana Saban subscribes to the rapper philosophy that if Shana Saban says her name enough times in her work, you will remember Shana Saban.

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