It was a long night for Esk. There was something he was forgetting, but he was too tired to think what it was. Like a lightning bolt, it came to him. The Reverend! It’s almost sunrise, and he is still in the examination room for the hostile and dangerous! I must get him ready for church service. I cannot afford to have him miss communion if I am to know what is going on with the dead. Esk flew out of his recliner and out the door at breakneck speed. As soon as he was out of sight of the cabin, he translated himself to the Reverend Bandersnatch’s room.

The Reverend was delirious. He had not received adequate food or water while Esk had been away, which was an order that Esk gave to weaken Bandersnatch’s resolve. He had also been kept in pure darkness and isolation. Sensory deprivation was the goal. Now here he was. All his defenses were compromised, and he was ready to give up any secret. There was no time, though. Esk lamented this fact. He set out to bring the Reverend around to an acceptable state in which he could perform his duties at church that morning. Establishing a mind link, he summoned the Reverend’s subconscious.

Reverend Bandersnatch… Reverend, you are late for the church service. It is communion Sunday. You must get to the church and prepare for the service.

Moments before Esk terminated the mental connection, he translated the Reverend into a random bed. He did not wake up to the sight of the Chief Gossip in all her glory, but that would have to wait. The Reverend fell out of the bed, taking the sheets with him. He stumbled around in the dark, raced to straighten his disheveled dress as a woman shrieked, then ran to the church where he kept a change of clothes. Esk translated himself back to Sam’s cabin and waited for Sam to wake from his slumber. The sun was rising, and all was well…sort of.

Sam stirred for a moment and then fell back into a deep sleep. Esk contemplated sneaking into the church to see how the preparation of Jesus Christ’s body and blood were performed, and perhaps where they were keeping him. Maybe he could free the pitiful zombie, and the ritual would no longer be possible. Would that remedy the cannibalism that ran so rampant amongst the Gossips and the Reverend? Even the medical professionals were in on this revolting practice. They did try to cook Esk, after all. Sam woke with a start as Esk was thinking over his plans for the aftermath of this bloodbath.

“What is wrong, Sam?” Esk asked.

“Just a bad dream, buddy. Nightmare. Somethin’ ‘bout a Zombie Jesus runnin’ ‘round loose an’ terrorizin’ the town. Nothin’, I guess. Maybe it’s ‘cause we was talkin’ ‘bout zombies.”

Esk tried to hide his horror. So there is a Zombie Jesus. That is who Jesus Christ really is, and subconsciously, the humans all know it. I pity this Zombie Jesus. He must be in constant pain. I will free him! Esk had made up his mind. His new mission was firmly set, Council approval or not. Esk would locate and free Zombie Jesus. He had suffered enough.

Esk was ready for church early. Sam came out of the shower to find his friend adorned in his light gray suit and spit-shined shoes a full two hours before the service was scheduled to begin. Sam wandered back into the bathroom in his underwear with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Esk was preparing for battle. He was also trying frantically to contact Dr. Severius about beginning the psychopathy research later that day. Sam’s phone was not connecting well, but there was ringing on the other end of the line.

“Dr. Severius,” a sleepy voice answered.

“Dr. Severius, this is Esk. We need to move up the timeline for our initial research on psychopaths. Today. Is it possible to begin today? This afternoon? This is of the utmost importance, Dr. Severius.”

Silence dominated the other end of the phone line. Dr. Severius was breathing heavily and unsteadily. His answer would come soon. Esk could feel it.

“Yes. Yes, we could meet at the prison this afternoon, but I am not sure how much we can accomplish today. I haven’t written up any prisoners for solitary suicide watch yet, so there are few psychopaths that we could safely deal with in solitary right now. They are all in solitary for other reasons—assault and attempted murder of other inmates, mainly.”

Dr. Severius sounded worried. Esk wondered what the matter could be.

“Dr. Severius, is everything alright?” he asked the psychiatrist.

“Well, I don’t normally go in on Sundays. Someone might suspect something if we go in together, or if you go in at all,” Dr. Severius replied.

“Do not worry about how I will get in. You go. I will meet you there this afternoon after church service is over.”

The line went dead, leaving Dr. Severius to ponder how Esk would gain access to his prison office unnoticed and unrecorded by the guards. He puzzled over the problem, grabbing a glass of Scotch to wash away his concern. He knew there was something very different about Esk. Just how different, though, he could not imagine. His neural connections could not handle the reality of who and what Esk really was…yet.

Sam got dressed at his leisure and noticed that Esk was agitated. He still had not asked or received an answer to the question of where Esk had disappeared to at the clinic the day before. This was deeply troubling to Sam. He needed to know if his friend was okay.

“Esk, listen. About yesterday. Ya’ don’t have ta’ tell me where ya’ went or what’cha did, but I just need to know yer okay, buddy. Are ya’ doin’ alright? Ya’ seem awful nervous this mornin’. Are ya’ okay, ya’ know, mentally?” Sam asked as delicately as possible.

“Yes, Sam. My mental status is taxed, but intact. I am fine. Thank you for asking.”

“Okay. Well, church starts in ‘bout an hour. Do ya’ wanna go early an’ sit for a while in the church?”

“Yes!” Esk jumped up.

There was no possible way that the Reverend could prepare the elements for communion in time for the service. It was simply too much for him to handle in his present state and in the amount of time he had left before church began. The Reverend despised himself for doing it, but he had no other choice. He would have to call Deacon Pritchard in to assist. The church officer was reluctant to join the Reverend alone, fearing that it was a trap on the minister’s part. The Reverend assured him that it was not a trick. He desperately needed help.

Esk and Sam arrived at the church 50 minutes early and sat in the front pew. They admired the artwork on the walls and the stained-glass windows. The light shone through the stained glass in rays of color that Esk was enamored with. Esk had never noticed how beautiful the church edifice was. He had been too busy defending himself within its walls to pay attention to such details. The stained-glass windows depicted the “Stations of the Cross,” as Sam called them. Esk asked who was in all the scenes.

“Well, Jesus Christ, a’ course. But you wouldn’t know that. I’m sorry, Esk. I been terrible ignorant when it comes ta’ educatin’ ya’ on matters a’ the church and Gawd and the whole bus’ness. Please fergive me,” Sam said.

“Forgive you? There is nothing to forgive, Sam. I am here to learn.”

Just then, the sanctuary doors slammed shut behind them, echoing through the chapel like a shotgun blast. Jean Bandersnatch was on a rampage. Sam and Esk could both tell that she was headed straight for the Reverend’s office. The Deacon Pritchard followed shortly thereafter, but not in time to save the Reverend from his fate with the Chief Gossip. Through the window, the two church-goers witnessed Jean slap the Reverend across the face open-handed. He reeled. His countenance was that of a terrified man. Muted voices argued back and forth.

“How dare you, ya’ cheatin’ rat!” the Chief Gossip screamed.

“What’re ya’ talkin’ ‘bout, Jean?” the minister asked, perplexed.

“Wakin’ up in Ashley Mendenhall’s bed, that’s what.”

“I can explain. Well, really, I can’t, but trust me, it’s not what’cha think.”

“Oh, an’ I s’pose bein’ missin’ fer sev’ral days prior ta’ that is easily explained away, too, huh? An’ wakin’ up in a younger wo’man’s bed on Sunday mornin’?”

“Jean, I really don’t have time right now…”

The Reverend caught a haymaker from the Chief Gossip, who then pirouetted on her heel and marched out of the small room. She hastily made her way down the aisle to the back of the sanctuary. The doors remained open this time. Jean Bandersnatch was off to start her rumors and could care less about the chapel doors. The Deacon Pritchard plodded to the church leader’s den, head hung low. Upon entering, he assessed the damage to the preacher’s face.

“You can’t go givin’ communion lookin’ like that, Reverend,” said Deacon Pritchard, “not with that shiner startin’ ta’ swell. Let’s just skip it this month. We can catch it next month. I can conduct the service fer ya’ t’day an’ you can go find out what’s goin’ on with yer wife.”

The Reverend agreed and took off his collar. Nodding to the Deacon Pritchard, he exited the building. Their voices had been too subdued for Esk and Sam to hear what was going on, but it became abundantly clear to Esk that the Deacon Pritchard had sent the Reverend away for some reason. Communion. What about communion? Can the Deacon Pritchard do communion? No, this is all wrong. Where is the Reverend Bandersnatch going so soon before the service begins? I must know. Esk began to get up from his seat. Sam tugged at his sleeve to sit back down.

“I thought ya’ wanted me ta’ explain the whole service to ya’ t’day, Esk. Where ya’ goin’?”

“I am going to find out where the Reverend Bandersnatch and the Chief Gossip went. The Deacon Pritchard is incapable of performing communion by himself. Of this, I am sure.”

“Aw, Esk, let ‘em go. There’ll be communion next month if it don’t happen t’day. Stay with me. Let me explain what’s goin’ on to ya’ durin’ the service so ya’ understand better,” Sam pleaded.

Esk decided to remain with Sam. He was incensed with himself because he had caused this delay in his own research. He had forgotten to release the Reverend in time to allow the experiment to continue unhindered. Now there were confounding factors to figure in. He would have to report this to the Council. Esk stomped his foot hard on the floor, startling Sam.

“What’s a’ matter, Esk?”

“Nothing, Sam. I am angry with myself. I will straighten it out.” As Esk reassured Sam that all would be set right, the Deacon Pritchard stepped up to the pulpit. He stuttered the announcement that there would be no communion until next month. The words could barely be heard over the din of the Gossips’ whispers—their leader was absent…

Image by Chouaib Saoud via Pixabay