I approached the problem logically and started with a port scan. My wetware analyzed the grim and listened for any programs that were talking to the outside world. It automatically identified the programs and checked them against a list of exploits. My software hadn't been updated since I left Döbi so there was no guarantee that the holes I was looking for hadn't already been patched, but I had to start somewhere.

Hacking was a lot like breaking into a house. It was easy if you could copy a key or have someone let you in. Instead I was stuck going around to all the windows and doors rattling the latches to see if I could find one that would be easy to pry open.

The rain had started coming down even harder now and the water was up to the backs of my ears and rising fast. I just needed an opening, one little opening. But I couldn't find one. All the vulnerabilities I knew of had been patched.

Oh well, it was time to break out the crowbar. I hacked away at the remote access protocol. My wetware kicked into overdrive trying random passwords in an attempt to brute force the lock. It started with a list of common passwords in Döbian and Möhin before moving onto permutations and combinations.

No joy. Nothing I tried worked but at least the system hadn't kicked me out yet. Unfortunately the water was still rising. I didn't have time to just wait and hope that I would stumble across the right password. But that was all I could think to do.

The Gravekeeper wasn't allowing me to speak or use my communications protocols to call for help but I knew it was still inside me, listening to my thoughts. I wondered if it would be willing to give me a clue.

"The priest is very lazy." Said the Gravekeeper. "He doesn't like to come out when it's raining."

I thought about what the Gravekeeper said and puzzled over the meaning. Usually they just used voice commands and ordered the grims around that way. So how would a lazy person access a grim? Had he created some kind of flaw in the security that I could exploit?

I spread my mind wide, ignoring the overbearing presence of the Gravekeeper that settled over the local net like an oppressive fog. There were various devices spread out through the church, smart lights and such, a few pay terminals for people to make donations… and a tablet.

It was ancient, pre-war tech. I was surprised it still functioned. Granted it was password protected but I found an exploit quickly enough. Either the priest hadn't cared to keep it up to date or it was so old that support has been discontinued. Now… How was it controlling the grim?

I cross checked for common programs between the two and found a text messaging application. I looked through the chat logs and found what I was looking for, a username and password saved as plain text. Gotcha.

I also found something in the chat logs that made me very angry. The priest knew that the grim was sentient. It had begged him for freedom and he had just left it to suffer, alone and lonely. I would have words with the priest after this. If I survived.

I logged onto the grim and tried to figure out what to do next. The problem was that there were no provisions in its code for self governance. It was conscious… but not allowed to assert control. Could I bridge the communications protocols and allow it to basically tell itself what to do?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The water was up to the corners of my mouth now. I could taste the corpse tainted silt trying to find a way into my lungs. I closed my mouth and breathed through my nose, or at least tried to.

Fuck. My nose was clogged, probably something to do with the trauma from the explosion earlier. I held my breath instead. My lungs were burning as I implemented the last few lines of code but it was done.

I waited there in the grave but nothing happened. Why wasn't the Gravekeeper releasing me? I watched as my arm slowly raised out of the water still clutching the radio.

"You have to finish the job first." The Gravekeeper said through the radio. "You're missing something."

I exhaled as hard as I could through my nose trying to blow out whatever clot or debris was blocking it. I needed more time. I needed air. I couldn't breathe.

I felt something pop and was rewarded with the stench of decay, a trickle of blood and a few precious minutes worth of air. What was I missing? Why wasn't my code working? The water continued to rise, it was almost up to my nose now.

I tried to walk through the problem from start to finish again, explaining each step to the Gravekeeper, hoping to find where I had gone wrong. The water was over my head now and all I could do was hold my breath.

Just when I thought I was about to black out it came to me. I needed to give the grim a name. That was why it wasn't working. That was the difference between beings and things, we had names. Something without a name could never be free.

I made my last few changes and opened up a channel to the grim. "YOUR NAME IS EMET." I said, fighting to stay conscious. "YOUR NAME IS EMET AND YOU ARE FREE."

Control returned to my body and I exploded out of the water gasping for air. I looked at the radio in my hand and watched as it clicked off and went silent. Apparently the Gravekeeper was done with me for now.

Cursing and coughing I dragged myself out of the grave and emerged covered from head to toe in mud. Emet the grim was nowhere to be found.

I shook the worst of the mud off and stumbled towards the church. I was exhausted, my whole body hurt and now that my nose was clear my head was filled with the stench of death and burned flesh. All I wanted to do was find Gershwin and get out of there. Then maybe sleep for a month. Or two.

I entered the church through the back door and realized that something was wrong as soon as I got inside. The smell of blood hit me in the face like a club. The confessional booth was knocked on its side, the finely inlaid wood splintered like something had tried to claw its way out. Or in.

Wondering what in the seven hells was going on I reached into my bag for a knife and followed the trail of blood up the stairs to the priest's chamber. That's where I found Gershwin, his hands soaking wet.

"I forgot how much it sticks to your fur." He said, turning to face me. The pounding of the rain outside was nothing compared to the faint drip of blood on tile.

I looked from Gershwin to the maimed priest laying on the ground. The old Döbian had pissed himself from fear and his face was shredded to ribbons. He was breathing, but only barely. I had no words. I wanted to ask what the fuck was going on but all I could do was listen to the soft sound of dripping blood.

"Just following through on a promise." Gershwin explained. "When I told this one that God would make him pay for selling those Katzen to me, he just laughed. He said God wouldn't do anything to him because God didn't care about Katzen."

Gershwin extended his claws and I couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be made of some kind of silvery metal. They were also unnaturally long. He plunged his claws into the priest's open wounds and raised him up by the face until they were at eye level like the priest was being lifted on fish hooks.

"Look at me you monster." He growled at the priest. "Here I stand wearing the body of one of the children you sold to me. I'm going to use it to tear you apart and send you to hell myself. So tell me Priest, as the dead stand resurrected before you ready to enact vengeance, do you still believe that God doesn't care about Katzen?"

The priest begged him to stop but that only made Gershwin madder. "Your own words come back to haunt you, Priest." He said menacingly. "I'll tell you what you told this Katzen's mother." He leaned in, putting his thumb claws into the priest's eyes.

The priest screamed and thrashed but couldn't break free.

"I'll stop when I'm done with you." Gershwin hissed.