Esk limited himself and Eosin to a single beer, which did not make Esk nearly as sick as he was the first time he partook of ethanol. Eosin had a hangover, though. The result was that Esk was nauseous, in spite of not having the infamous sickness. While Eosin’s pain wore off and Esk hydrated, Esk remembered a key part of the conversation that Sam had with Lod. Sam had mentioned Jesus. Were Lod and Zombie Jesus partners of some sort?

“Sam, I have a question for you,” Esk said.

Sam rolled over on his side in the recliner, blanket half on the floor, spittle threatening to spill from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Go ‘head, buddy. Whaddaya got?”

“Do you think Lod and Jesus are working together?”

Esk was sure that Sam would know what he was talking about now. He waited impatiently for an answer as Eosin did somersaults in his gut.

“Naw. I don’t think Jesus would be in cahoots with Lod, whoever he is. Naw. I figure Lod is workin’ solo, lone wolf style, whatever he’s a’ doin’.”

Sam rolled over and went back to snoring. Esk was disappointed. Now he had to figure out exactly who—or what—Jesus was in order to be kept in the Reverend’s and the Gossips’ hearts, dismembered as he was. More research, and more revelation to the nefarious Dr. Severius, was necessary.

Dr. Severius arrived at his office, expecting Esk to greet him from his own office chair. That was not the case this morning. Esk did not arrive until almost 1000 hours—highly unusual. Dr. Severius commented on Esk’s appearance.

“You look tired, young man. A bit too much of the hooch last night?” Dr. Severius asked.

“No. I did not have hooch. I had a beer,” Esk responded circumspectly.

“Ah, my friend, you must lack the enzyme aldehyde dehydrogenase necessary to process alcohol in the body. A lot of people have that deficiency. Alcohol simply isn’t your ‘thing’, as they say.”

Why would Severius offer that information to me? Severius must be Lod. He is cunning. And intelligent. I must expose him, but not now. Not until I know more about his interest in me and in the psychopaths… his real interest. Esk waited for Eosin to confirm his thoughts, however, Eosin was busy tying himself in knots and inventing new ways to glide through Esk’s intestines. He was a juvenile tapeworm, after all.

“Do you know of any creatures that can be dismembered and regenerate, or even live being horribly dismembered?” Esk asked.

“Of course! Fascinating creatures, they are. They’re called axolotls and they can regenerate any body part once it is severed—even their brains—and they have excellent healing potential for human ailments. Absolutely stunning, yet little-known to most. Do you think that axolotls could aid in our… ahem… research?”

Jesus was an axolotl? Esk jotted down the name of the life form in a small notebook that he had begun carrying in his pocket. It was a way of blending in with other intellectuals on Earth. They all seemed to have a notebook and pen handy at all times. Esk would look up axolotls later to confirm his hypothesis.

Dr. Severius stripped off his tie and left his suit jacket on the back of his chair, readying himself to visit the psychopath that they had been working with over the last couple of days. Esk wanted to expose Lod so badly he could scream, but he could not. Lod knew too much, but Lod knew much more still, and Esk needed that information. The two of them set off past Cell Blocks A through D and came upon the familiar solitary confinement cell housing “their” psychopath. Dr. Severius had not yet bothered to put any others in solitary artificially because he was trying to determine what was going on with the first one that he and Esk had encountered together.

Esk had not done any further neural reconstruction on the psychopath yet. He wanted to see how the first one developed over time before meddling any more with that brain. Dr. Severius swung the door open, allowing the ancient sodium light from the hallway to pour into the cell. The man’s primal shrieking could be heard almost as far as the warden’s office. The guards wondered what delightful punishment someone in the prison was receiving. The only people they had seen go down to solitary were the shrink and his lackey. Dr. Severius was gaining notoriety without even knowing it. The session was short, consisting of much terror on the prisoner’s part and much head-scratching on Dr. Severius’s. Esk again observed.

When Esk returned to the cabin after escaping from Lod’s presence, he was still shaken by the idea of Jesus being an… an… what did Lod call it? Esk dug out his notebook. An axolotl.

“Sam, may I use your computer to look up a creature on the internet?” asked Esk.

“Sure. Go ‘head. The search engine’s workin’ pretty good t’day.”

Esk typed in A-X-O-L-O-T-L and pressed the enter key. That was how Sam taught him to search for things on the “information superhighway”. An image popped up on the screen. Esk was entranced. The label below the photo said “axolotl” and Esk chose the option of seeing more images of the Axolotl Jesus. He was the most exquisite being that Esk had yet seen on Earth. To think, the Reverend and the Gossips were hacking off parts of him and leaving him to regenerate while they took advantage of his healing properties. He was not Zombie Jesus: he was Axolotl Jesus. That explained much more than Esk’s previous leads, leaving him satisfied to know what type of creature he was dealing with (on one front, at least). Now, how did this tie in with communing with the dead and prayer and cannibalism? Those were still the core questions that Esk had to find answers to. It was almost Sunday again, and this time, Esk was going to ask Sam to point out an image of Axolotl Jesus to him. Surely, if they worshipped him, they had an image of him in their church edifice… Esk could not wait to see it in all its glory. Axolotl Jesus had to be a magnificent sight.

A light tapping at the door yanked Esk out of his daydreams about Axolotl Jesus and alerted Sam to someone’s presence. Sam pulled on a pair of pants and rushed to the door. It was too early for much to have gone wrong yet. When Sam opened the door, he locked eyes with Mrs. Bandersnatch.

“Have y’awl seen my husband, the Good Reverend, Mr. Sam Wilkins?” she crooned.

Esk’s right thumb burned. The Chief Gossip was trying to seduce Sam, and it was nothing but an evil ploy to get to Esk.

“No, Ma’am, I haven’t seen yer husband the Preacher, an’ I don’t want to. Good day,” Sam replied, trying to shut the door.

Jean Bandersnatch was not that easy to get rid of. She jammed her delicate-looking foot in the door to prevent Sam from closing it.

“Yer friend wouldn’t happen to know where the Reverend might be, would he, now?”

Her voice was thick with venom. It coated her tongue and dripped off it like honey off a fresh comb. Esk was getting angry. His glow had changed, though. It was a brilliant white color now—the color of an LED full-spectrum daylight bulb—and it shone throughout the whole house. Esk’s rage could hardly be contained within his armor. Upon seeing the strange light, the Chief Gossip decided it best to leave Sam Wilkins alone at his cabin. She would pick this conversation up at church. That would be soon enough. Then she would continue to work her philandering charms on the young believer.

Esk slinked out the back door and followed the Chief Gossip Bandersnatch in his native form, with Eosin riding between his DNA strands. From where Bandersnatch stood, feeling that she was being followed and looking over her shoulder often, Esk looked like the reflection off a piece of metal or glass in full sun.

“Hmph. Nothin’ ta’ worry ‘bout. Nobody’s gonna know I haven’t been home to see my dear pontificatin’ husband yet. Oh, Lawrence—how good a’ him ta’ take me in durin’ my time a’ need earlier,” she said to herself out of a need for comfort, “an’ that Sam Wilkins. I’ll be findin’ out ‘bout that friend a’ his soon enough. Sunday’s a’ comin’.”

Esk followed her to her house, where she stumbled up the steps in her high-heeled strappy shoes that did not go well with the pattern or color of her dress. As she staggered, she met the Reverend coming out the screen door. He had a suitcase in his hand, packed beyond capacity, and did not slow down to greet his wife.

“Jean, I want a divorce,” the Reverend said in passing.

“A… a… what did you just say ta’ me?” Mrs. Bandersnatch asked, taken aback.

“A divorce. Papers ‘er on the table. Sign ‘em.”

“Yer gonna regret this!”

“I been regrettin’ this since I married ya’!”

The Reverend Bandersnatch did not slow down as he tossed his suitcase in the trunk and took off, spinning the tires of his ’67 Barracuda all the way down their driveway. She would get the house. He already knew that, and he did not care. He could only hope that she would find a different church to attend…

Image by Chouaib Saoud via Pixabay