Body Surfing

to jet out of Jarhead’s body. Head into the wild blue yonder.”
    “But say you didn’t. Say you decided to stick around for a while.”
    “And do what? Live someone else’s life? That’s not fair to Jarhead. I’ve already ruined his relationship with two of his best friends. It’s only a matter of time before I get him arrested. And you know, that’s not me either. This—” Jasper waved Jarhead’s hands, indicated Jarhead’s body “—this isn’t me. This is someone else. And I don’t want to be someone else. No offense, Jarhead,” he said, when a hurt whine floated up from the abyss.
    Now Leo rolled his eyes. “Jasper, how many times do I have to tell you to stop thinking like someone who’s still alive? Not fair? Fair is for people who have to worry about punching the time clock at 9 A.M. , paying the mortgage, remembering to TiVo Survivor . None of these things is your concern. You’re beyond all that now. You’re something else. Don’t you think it behooves you to explore this new condition? To be whatever it is you are now, so you don’t end up doing what Jasper did?”
    “And what did Jasper do?”
    “Jasper didn’t fuck his girlfriend. Didn’t fuck anyone, and ended up like this. How do you know there’s not something you have to do in this new state, to make sure you don’t get stuck again?”
    The chill on Jarhead’s spine came back tenfold. He had to struggle to keep his voice steady. “I thought that’s what you were here to do. Make sure I didn’t do that.”
    “Let’s just say,” Leo drummed Larry’s crooked fingers on thetable. God is dead. God is dead. God. Is. Dead . “Let’s just say I’ve told you everything I can.”
    And then, almost as if Leo had planned it that way, there was the sound of traffic as the door at the front of the bar opened. Leo looked over Jasper’s shoulder and smiled, and Jasper turned around to see the blond triage nurse from the hospital walk through the door.
    “Gwen?”
    “As perceptive as ever. You can have her or the bartender. Bubbly blond or Joan Jett wannabe?” Leo smiled wickedly. “Michaela had a navel ring, didn’t she?”

24
    L ana held her drink up to the two men.
    “Death is in my sight today.”
    Q. shifted nervously on the silk toile of the doctor’s couch. The huntress was a bit over the top.
    When no one joined her in the toast, Lana shrugged, knocked back her drink. As she poured a second, she nudged the shotgun on the table.
    “I’m assuming you don’t carry this around on a regular basis.”
    J.D. Thomas, still shaking slightly, sipped his tea loudly. “No, I—”
    Lana turned to Q. “The demon was coming for you.”
    Q.’s hands were trembling as well. Not with nervousness but with a strange uncontrollable energy, as if he needed to whale on a punching bag for twenty minutes, then run a half marathon. He was acutely conscious of the small red stain on his shirt, the heat rising off his chest. Lana glanced at his hands, then edged a second glass of Scotch toward him.
    “Be patient. Eventually you’ll learn to control it, but for now you’ll have to wait until the energy dissipates of its own accord.” She flexed her wrist tenderly. “He made you strong. Very, very strong.”
    The big clunky watch Lana wore had slipped down her forearm. A jagged scar transversed her wrist, the pale flesh knobbled and delicate-looking, but also resilient. Healed . Scarred, but healed. Hedidn’t have to ask Lana how she’d gotten this scar. He knew instinctively. Knew she’d gone through what he had, and come out the other side.
    Q. nodded resolutely.
    “He was in me for more than a week. I think I was a random choice. He was just hanging out. Letting me be myself mostly, but turning it up a little. Lowering inhibitions and all that. And—and yeah. He was making me strong. I felt solid. Hard. Like bullets would bounce off me.”
    Lana set her glass down. “I doubt they’ll bounce, but—” Before Q. knew what was happening, the huntress had ripped his shirt open like a drunken bachelorette at Chippendales. His face went as red as the stain on the remnants of his shirt.
    “What the—”
    He was cut off by the doctor’s gasp. Lana just shrugged.
    “Things continue to look up for your candidate, doctor.”
    Q. looked down at his chest. The place where Lana had cut him had all but healed. When he flicked off the scum of blood, all he saw was a pink dimple about an inch long. It looked as though someone had