Anything But Zombies (19 page)

#winning.

That's when I told my work friend about the number. That's when she suggested we go out. That's when I suggested the perfect place.

Diem looked at me as if she could hear my thoughts. She nodded in recognition and then looked over at Paul, who took a step toward me.

“We didn't spill that blood. She did. Isn't that right, Tiffany?” Paul said.

Ben was quiet for a moment and then he scoffed. “That's crazy.” I could feel his eyes burning into me.

I looked at Diem and whispered, “No one saw me.”

“But I heard you,” Diem said. “I smelled you.”

The gun was in my purse. It was still in my purse. It was nestled beneath my wallet and my ginger peach lipstick. I put it in before I left because I wanted to feel safe. They could have been together at the club. If they were, I knew the perfect congratulatory gift. I'd blow myself away. Scatter my brains all over their freshly poured drinks.

It wasn't until my friend went to the bathroom that I saw her. Katie. She swayed back and forth with a martini glass in her hand. Her friends surrounded her and took selfies incessantly. They'd laugh after each shot like it was all so fucking hysterical.

She knocked into me on her way back to the bar for a refill. She placed her hand on my forearm and smiled. “I'm so sorry.”

I placed my hand over hers. Her skin felt soft.

“Do we know each other?” she said. Her eyes widened and mine grew smaller.

I wondered how it was possible to not remember who you knew.

I pulled the gun from my purse before I could frame a thought. I gripped her hand tighter and buried it deep into her stomach. I pulled the trigger hard, exhaling audibly as the bullet released into her. I let go of her arm and stepped away as she fell to the floor. I looked behind me in shock and everyone else did too. I slipped my gun back in my purse as they ran around me, assuming the threat had come from some random dank corner of the club. Not from the girl standing amidst them.

“You did this.” Ben stood slowly, bracing himself on the wall beside him. “You killed that girl?”

“Katie,” Paul offered.

“Katie?” Ben's eyes widened in recognition. “Katie, from . . .”

“Katie with a heart over the ‘i,' ” I said, looking at him.

Ben looked back at me like I was a total stranger. “You killed her.”

“Don't look at me like that, Ben,” I started. I could feel the tears squeezing their way out. “I was all scrambled up. You were going to choose her.”

“Choose her? I never even went out with her.”

“But you wanted to.” My voice cracked with emotion. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek hard, a chunk of meaty flesh dislodged and the tangy blood stained my mouth. How could he not want to? She was everything I wasn't. With her gone, we had a chance. “This has been the best year of my life.”

Our eyes met but his face twisted in disgust. “Do you know how crazy that sounds, Tiffany?”

The word
crazy
hit me like a bolt of electricity. I looked at Diem. I felt consumed by anger. “So, is this what you wanted? A confession? What are you—part police dog? You sniff out blood like a good puppy and bring back the bones to bury?”

“She's making me upset.” Diem clutched the gun a little tighter in her hand.

Paul kissed her forehead and took the gun. “We aren't working with the police, Tiffany,” Paul said. “We'd like to think we are more effective.”

I thought of the pale detective who barely looked at me when she questioned me. She didn't even notice my hands were covered in blood.

“The thing is,” Paul continued, “Diem is in pain. It's why we moved from the city.” He rubbed her back softly. “She smells it all. The sins. The blood. It oozes from you. Through your filthy, guilty thoughts. You would have been fine if you kept your stench in the city but you brought it to us.”

His words sent a chill through my body. That night, no one's eyes met mine. No one pointed in my direction. No one knew. So I thought.

“She wasn't innocent,” I said, thinking of Katie dancing seductively in her dress. “And you two, you're hypocrites. You killed that man.” I pictured the store employee slumped over the counter. “Do you smell that too?” I said, looking at Diem.

“Make it stop,” Diem cried, pressing her hands against her ears.

“We didn't kill him,” Paul said. “He was just a bleeder.”

I chortled. “So was Katie.”

Ben looked at me, surprised, and turned to Paul. “So, what now?” Ben asked. “You kill us?”

Paul smiled. “Just her.”

His words knocked the wind out of me. I struggled to catch my breath. I looked at Ben and he looked at Paul as if he was considering whether he was okay with that conclusion.

“It will make her feel better,” Paul said, raising the gun. He pointed it directly at my head. “Besides, it will bring some balance back to the world. An eye for an eye and all that.”

“She shot her in the stomach,” Diem said.

“How could you possibly . . .”

“I hear you.” She tapped at her head and pointed at mine.

Paul lowered the gun toward my stomach and pressed the barrel into my abdomen. The barrel pointed slightly upward, in the same way I had for Katie.

I took a breath. This trip had been long overdue.

“Last words?” Paul said. His finger was itching to pull the trigger.

I shook my head and closed my eyes.

“Hey, Paul,” Ben said. I opened my eyes and Ben was standing behind Paul. His hands were free from the restraints.

Paul looked in his direction and Ben hit him hard in the face.

As Paul stumbled backward, the gun flew across the room. Paul and Ben dove for it simultaneously. They clawed at the ground and each other as they both struggled to reach the gun.

Diem screamed over and over like a nut job and I struggled to break free of the restraints.

I finally broke my arms free and threw myself to the ground. My legs were still bound but I slithered myself over to Ben and Paul. I grabbed hold of Paul's leg and yanked it with all my might, hoping to give Ben a chance to grab the gun. Paul turned over on his back and kicked hard in my direction. I fell on my side, narrowly dodging his forceful kick. When I looked up, Ben was holding the gun. He was shaking, but he pointed it in our direction. For a moment, I couldn't tell which one of us was in the crosshairs. I held my hands up slowly and so did Paul. Diem was cowering in the corner.

“Come on, man,” Paul said. “This isn't you. I can tell from the way you are holding that gun.”

“Get up, Tiffany,” Ben said. Now the gun was more decisively pointed at Paul.

I felt a jolt of glee as I leaned down to free my legs. He understood why I did it. He understood why Katie had to die. I rose to stand beside him.

“We need to get out of here,” I said.

Ben looked at me and nodded. He began to back toward the door.

“Wait,” I said. We had no clue where we were. Leaving them there meant they could follow us. They could have more guns. “Give me the gun, Ben.”

“Don't do it,” Paul said. His voice shook with panic.

“Shut up,” I said to Paul.

“Don't do it, Ben. You don't know her.”

I turned to Ben. “You know me,” I said to Ben softly. “I know how to use the gun. If they try anything, I know how to use it.” I remembered pulling back the safety that night at the club. I remembered shooting Katie.

Ben held the gun for a moment in his trembling hands and looked at Paul.

“She'll kill me,” he said. “Eventually she'll kill you too.”

“I would never hurt you, Ben,” I said.

Ben looked at me with pain in his eyes. He wasn't made for this. It was what I loved about him.

“Give it to me,” I coaxed.

He handed me the gun. I smiled at him and turned to Paul. Without hesitation, I shot him twice in the head, blowing him backward.

“Tiffany, no!” Ben yelled.

Diem screamed and I turned to her. I shot her once, the bullet landing squarely in her cheek. She slumped to the side, her eyes still open.

“You killed them,” Ben muttered. “You killed them.”

I let the gun fall to my side and looked at him. “I had to. They would have killed us, Ben. They would have gotten in the way.”

I walked over to Diem and reached down to feel in her pockets.

Ben was standing in the middle of the room with his hands over his head. He looked from Diem to Paul and then back to Diem. Tears streamed down his face.

I moved over to Paul and began digging in his pockets.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“Keys,” I said, pulling them from his pocket.

I started to head toward the door but Ben stood still. “Ben, come on.”

He looked at me, disoriented, and reluctantly started to follow. I took his hand, squeezed it, and placed my hand on the door.

I glanced back at the bodies and looked at Ben and smiled. The fear in his eyes was palpable, but I was sure it would wear off. He saved me. Even knowing what I'd done.

He chose
me
.

Our reclusive Western New York oasis seemed perfect right now. When we walked through the door, it would all be behind us. All of it. The blood. The bullets. The secrets. Diem. Paul. Katie. That stupid heart over the “i.”

I stopped and turned to Ben before opening the door. “Do you think we can still make check-in?”

Toby sat before his typewriter. He had to get something down on this page. He hadn't had an original thought in over three years, and his agent was going nuts, haranguing him to turn in something.

His fans were clamoring for the next installment in his Death Harrier series; he was honestly just burned-out. Durand just didn't interest him anymore. The publisher wouldn't allow him to kill Durand—too much of a cash cow for that to happen.

Toby had actually plotted the first dozen books after signing his deal and had so far written only five. So here he was with the outline of book six in front of him with no clue where to go.

He paged through the outline. The idea was strong; he just couldn't take off with it though. Toby slapped it back onto the desk and groaned in frustration.

Phyllis was holding down the fort with the girls at home while he spent two weeks up in Red Deer Rapids. Toby had always begun each installment of the Death Harrier series here and once he had gotten a good head start, he could come back home and hammer out the rest.

Not this time, though. Toby had been in town three days already and hadn't managed a word. He picked up his iPhone and unlocked it.
Plants vs. Zombies
awaited him. Normally, when he was in writing mode the allure of anything not writing held no sway over him.

Toby noted the time on his phone. A little early for lunch, but he could eat. Maybe something in his stomach would help get his creative juices flowing. He grabbed his jacket and made his way downstairs, slipping on his Crocs at the door.

It was midfall and the air was already cool this far up in Michigan's Lower Peninsula. The remaining leaves on the trees were bright reds and oranges, and he crunched underfoot the ones that had fallen onto the walkway. Sandy's Southern Kitchen was about a fifteen-minute walk from here, a little too much on the brisk side to go it on foot.

As Toby climbed into his SUV, he glanced over at the little garden area, a four-by-four section on his postage-stamp–sized lot and thought something was missing. He couldn't think of what it could have been before starting his vehicle and pulling out.

He bought this house because he'd always liked it here. It didn't have everything Phyllis wanted; she was more of a big-city girl, but it was a great place to get away from everything else he knew. Everyone in town knew each other, so of course they all knew him. It bothered him until he realized it was the complete opposite of his early life in the city, where he'd grown up virtually invisible. They were neighborly here in Red Deer Rapids and that had taken some getting used to. When it was finally time to get away from the hustle and bustle of a major city, he could easily see himself spending the rest of his life here.

He could go no faster than ten miles an hour without giving himself whiplash along the lumpy, narrow dirt path that fronted his property. It turned onto a two-laner that had just been repaved and striped last year.

His house was not actually in town. He could smell the freshwater scent coming off Spencer Bay, a stone's throw off Meguzee Point, in an unincorporated area adjacent to Red Deer Rapids that the city council hadn't gotten around to adopting. Meguzee Point Road turned onto East 3rd Street. Toby didn't know exactly at what point he was actually in town, but when he hit Ames Street, he was in the downtown area. The Village Market was to the left, but he had a taste for Sandy's shrimp and grits. Phyllis had made him promise not to throw his diet entirely out the window, but the food was too good to deny. He'd have plenty of time to eat healthy later.

The general store was the first building on his right. There was a post office, a resale shop, a dry cleaner, and a few other stores and Sandy's Southern Kitchen on the corner at Maplewood. The original proprietor had passed some thirty years back and her children had sold it to some real-estate gazillionaire.

Toby tucked into a parking spot directly in front of the restaurant. It took him a little longer to parallel park before he climbed out of his SUV, crossed the narrow strip of sidewalk, and went into Sandy's.

“Mr. D! Just have a seat and I'll be right with ya,” Wanda said in her thick southern accent as he entered. Toby had presumed this was a yuppie tourist attraction when he'd first passed by, but Wanda had lent an air of authenticity the first time he'd come in. She was in the middle of taking someone's order and he gave her a smile and a wave, heading to the counter. The waitress went back to taking the order of the nigh-elderly couple sitting in the booth.