Jim's haunted past

Chapter 12: Jim's brother wayne Comes back

Jim trudged through the overgrown cemetery, footsteps heavy. Visiting Wayne's grave always drained what little spirit he had left these days. The fight against the resurrected greasers felt endless, a cruel Sisyphean torture with no hope of resolution.

Approaching Wayne's modest grave marker, Jim froze in disbelief. A familiar figure stood silhouetted before the tombstone - Wayne, restored fully to his youthful self. He turned to Jim with a gentle smile.

"Heya Jimmy. It's been a while." His voice was warm and deep as Jim remembered.

For a moment, Jim couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His dead brother was here, seemingly alive again. Jim blinked hard, certain his exhausted mind was fracturing.

"Wayne?" he finally choked out. "Is it really...how are you here?" This couldn't be real. His rational mind rejected it utterly.

Wayne walked over to clasp Jim's shoulders with reassuring solidity. "I can't explain the how, but yes it's me. I've come back to help you put an end to those greaser bastards once and for all."

Jim shook his head in denial, even as his heart leapt at seeing Wayne whole again. "I watched you die! This is impossible..."

"Death's grip has loosened, for now," Wayne said cryptically. He gestured to a shimmering aperture hovering nearby. "I was granted leave to return through the portal, to fight alongside you again."

Jim's chaotic emotions wrestled between joy at this reunion and awe at the supernatural impossibility of it all. Could he accept this gift even if he didn't understand?

As if reading his inner turmoil, Wayne gripped Jim's shoulder tightly. "Does the how really matter? I'm here for you now when you need me most. We'll face them together, like always."

Jim clasped Wayne tight, tears flowing unchecked. However this miracle had occurred, he wouldn't waste this precious chance to reclaim what was stolen from them. The greasers would face justice at last.

"Let's go get the bastards," Jim rasped. With his brother and purpose renewed, hope seemed possible once more. Side by side, they strode forth into reckoning. Jim paced the creaky floorboards of his living room, still struggling to accept the impossible resurrection of his brother Wayne. Yet there Wayne sat on the tattered sofa, solid and patiently waiting.

"I want to understand how you're here, but I know you can't explain," Jim finally said, pausing his frenetic movements. "What I need to know is...why you've come back now?"

Wayne nodded. "You're right, the how isn't important. As for why..." He leaned forward intently. "The forces that allowed my return felt you needed help defeating the greasers once and for all."

Jim's chest tightened. "Those same punks who..." His voice broke. "Who killed you. They're back, Wayne, God help me. Killing students again."

Wayne's easygoing expression clouded with sorrow and anger. "Then we'd best get to the bottom of their resurrection. Wherever the investigation leads."

Moved by his unwavering support, Jim quickly outlined all he knew - the greasers' return, their patterns, his own fruitless efforts to stop them. Wayne listened thoughtfully, asking incisive questions.

"Their graves," Wayne said finally. "We should examine them for any signs of disturbance."

Of course—that crucial piece had eluded Jim. If the greasers physically rose from the dead, clues must linger in their unholy resting places.

"With your knowledge of their murderous past, we can crack this," Jim said, rallying with new momentum.

Wayne smiled. "I've missed working cases with you, Jimmy. We'll find the truth, like we always have."