How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (30 page)

BOOK: How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back
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“But we saw this guy a few hours ago, and I
know
he wasn't a zombie then,” I stated. “Even if he got turned right after we saw him, it doesn't seem as if there's been enough time for him to be up and about now.”

“Well, he did collapse,” Philip pointed out.

I gave a grudging nod. “Okay, but how is he
here
? How did he find us?”

“No clue, but we need to secure him,” Philip said. “My only set of cuffs is on Asshole.” He stood, then had to grab at the wall as he swayed. I hurried to steady him.

“Hey, Naomi,” I called, “you got any zipties?”

“Always,” she replied, squinting in our direction. “What's going on?”

“Sit back down,” I ordered Philip. “You can keep an eye on Gentry from right where you are.” As soon as he complied I ran back to Naomi. Andrew had been gagged and blindfolded, which pleased me tremendously. “It's a Saberton guard, Gentry,” I told her. “He collapsed, so we need to secure him.” I didn't want to say yet that I thought he was a zombie, mostly because I didn't want to risk Andrew hearing.

She dug zipties out of a side pocket and passed them to me. “Gentry? Shit. Are there any others?”

“I don't think so, but I'll let you know the instant that changes.” I started to turn and run back, then stopped and gave Naomi a quick hug. “Sorry about earlier.”

“It's cool, babe,” she said. “We're all stressed to the max.” She gave me a light shove. “Go.”

I returned to Philip and passed him the zipties. “We absolutely can't let Andrew know Gentry's been turned,” I said in a low voice. “Especially since we have no clue
how
.”

“Agreed.” He shifted to a crouch and quickly secured Gentry's hands behind his back, but when he stood he had to stop and catch his breath.

“I'll help you haul him back,” I said and took one of Gentry's arms.

Philip gave me a warm smile. “What would I do without my Angel?”

I chuckled, absurdly cheered at the simple statement. No matter what else went to shit, my friends were still my friends. Fuck the whole insider suspicion for these two. There was another explanation. There had to be.

Together we drag-hauled Gentry back to the circle of light. Jeez, but the dude was a helluva dead weight. If he'd been conscious, the strain on his shoulders would have been agonizing, but I didn't really give a shit about his comfort at the moment. I resisted the urge to drop him on his face, and instead set him against the wall a few feet beyond Naomi.

Philip lowered himself to sit. I looked around, even though I knew too damn well what our situation was.
Two
prisoners now, Naomi barely mobile, and Philip all fucked up by the MegaPlague. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

“We're stuck,” I murmured to myself, but Philip lifted his head.

“What happened with Brian?” he asked.

I hesitated only an instant before spilling the entire sordid tale to him, including how I'd disguised myself as a pregnant woman.

“Ah, I'd wondered about the coat,” he said but then gave me a pained look. “You're right. We're stuck, for now at least.” He sighed. “You and I are the only ones mobile. And I'm not reliably so.”

“We need supplies until we can figure out a plan,” I said, struggling to think. “Stuff for Naomi's ankle, splints and painkillers. That sort of thing.”

“Probably need duct tape and blankets. Baby wipes to clean up, and some clothing.”

“Deodorant,” Naomi put in. “For the love of god, please get deodorant.”

“I need to make a list,” I muttered. I glanced over at Andrew, smiled and snagged the pen from his pocket. It was a really nice one, heavy and sleek, and it wrote like a dream even on the grimy scrap of paper I picked up from the floor of the tunnel. “Blue-green algae. More food and water,” I continued as I jotted down the list of items.

“Definitely water,” Philip agreed. “I could drink a gallon right now.”

“Got it.” I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. “We'll figure out what to do after I get all this.”

“Get the supplies, then we both need to hydrate and rest,” he corrected. “Once that's done, we can secure our two prisoners, leave them with Naomi, and you and I will go recon options.”

“Glad you have a clue,” I said, giving him a light shoulder punch.

“Don't jump to conclusions,” he replied with a wink. “Be careful.”

“Always,” I said automatically, then damn near jumped out of my skin as the phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart leaped when I saw the caller ID. “It's Brian! I mean, it's my number which means it's Brian since he had my phone.” What if he'd been captured? What if this was really Saberton? Not yet daring to feel relief, I hit answer and then the speaker button so Naomi and Philip would be able to hear in case he said anything suspicious. “Brian! What happened? There were Saberton people crawling all over the place you sent me.”

“Angel,” he said, voice oddly flat. “I know it's you. You're the insider.”

Chapter 28

His words sliced through me like ice cold razors, leaving me frozen and shattered at the same time. In my peripheral vision I saw Philip visibly jerk in surprise.

“Wh-what?” I managed.

“You're the insider,” Brian repeated, slowly and clearly. “Every leak came from you: Mr. Ivanov's schedule and the meetings with Dr. Charish, the change in routine from lunch to dinner for him and Dr. Nikas, the new codes to get into the lab, even the location of our meet today.”

I felt as if I was in one of those horror movie shots where the focus zooms in on the victim while everything else retreats into the background. “No. No . . .” My blood pounded in my ears. “Brian, how can you even think that? I swear, I didn't betray you or anyone else!”

“Saberton would have had better intel and a smoother abduction plan if it had been one of my security team leaking info,” he said, eliminating Rachel, Kyle, and Naomi in a single sentence. Philip too, even though he wasn't on Brian's security team. “They heard it through someone with peripheral contact,” Brian continued. “
You
.”

Naomi let out a small gasp. Philip stood, eyes widening. “Oh my god,” he murmured. “He's right.”

I spun to face him as the nightmare sensation tightened its grip. “What? No! No, he's
not
right!”

Philip took a step toward me, hand extended and eyes on mine as if trying to calm a wild horse. “Angel, relax,” he said, then, louder, “Brian, I have this. We'll call you back.”

I fought the urge to drop the phone and flee. “I'm not the insider,” I insisted. “I didn't leak info. I swear!”

Philip gently took the phone from me, closed it and slipped it into a pocket. “Angel, it's okay,” he said, tone soothing, but then he shifted his attention to Andrew, crouched and pulled the gag and blindfold from the man. “And
he
saw no need to tell us.”

The word “baffled” probably had my picture next to it in the dictionary. “Huh?”

Philip straightened, put his hands on my shoulders, then leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “You're bugged.”

I jerked in shock and drew back to meet his eyes. “How?” I finally managed to get out.

“I think I was a party to it,” he said, voice going dark and dangerous. “Wasn't I, Saber?”

I spun toward Andrew and saw the glowering expression of a man who's been caught doing something really sneaky. Realization smacked me like a shovel to the face, and I slapped my hand over the crook of my left arm. “Shit!”

“The boat launch parking lot,” Philip said. He took my wrist and pulled gently to straighten my arm.

My distress shifted to white hot fury. A few months ago, back when Philip was still undercover, he and some Saberton goons attacked me at the Tucker Point boat launch then held me down while a tech took blood samples from me. At one point the needle had felt like a ball point pen being shoved into my arm . . .

We'd never been able to figure out why they'd taken blood and then simply let me go. But now it all made sense. It was brilliant. I had to hand it to them. A lot of information got dropped in my presence, and all they had to do was wait for the perfect moment.

My lips pulled back from my teeth. “Get. It. Out.”

Face set, Philip palpated my arm and finally paused with his thumb over a spot a couple of inches below my elbow on my inner forearm. “I think this is it.” Philip flicked open a folding knife, met my eyes briefly, then made a careful slice through the skin. I clenched my jaw as the pain burned up my arm before receding. “Sorry,” he murmured as he carefully worked his fingers into the gash. “I don't want to risk cutting any blood vessels, low as we are on brains.”

“It's cool,” I reassured him, then glowered at Andrew. “Y'all heard everything?”

He paled, but I decided it was more at the sight of Philip digging in my forearm than because of my accusation.

“That's how you knew we were at your apartment,” I continued, pissed, then exhaled in relief as Philip withdrew a slim plastic and metal tube about an inch long and about an eighth of an inch wide. Cripes, no wonder my arm had been itching and bothering me so much.

Philip dropped it to the floor and ground it beneath his heel. I turned to Andrew and enjoyed his wary frown as I untied his tie and pulled it free of his neck. His eyes widened with shock and dismay as I proceeded to wrap the silk around the gash in my arm.

“That's an Ermenegildo Zegna!” he sputtered.

“And now it's a Band-Aid,” I snapped. “How come you didn't have people waiting at your apartment for us when we broke in?”

He pulled his gaze away from the ruined tie, scowled. “It was intermittent at best after you went to the bar and got into that fight. The audio reduced to bits and snatches, and the tracker ceased working completely.”

I quickly turned away and put a hand over my mouth to hold back a slightly hysterical laugh.
The stun gun.
That stupid stun gun had partially fried the bug and saved our asses.

After taking a few deep breaths to get myself under control, I took the phone back from Philip then walked a short distance down the tunnel before calling Brian back.

“It's out and dead,” I said as soon as he answered.

“Good.” He exhaled. “I'm sorry. I should have screened you for anything unusual after that incident with Saberton, even for a piece of lint stuck to your shirt.”

“I hate that I was the cause of all of this crap.”


You
weren't,” he told me firmly. “Saberton played a good hand. Anyway, now that we have that settled we need to join up and figure out our next step.”

“Yeah. Stuff with Philip and me is getting worse, and it would be darn awesome if Dr. Nikas could do something about it.” I sucked in a breath. “I almost forgot to tell you! We have one of the Saberton security guards here. Weird as shit—he stumbled right up and collapsed.”

“And no one has ended him yet?” Brian asked with dangerous calm.

“Er, no.” I moved further down the tunnel and lowered my voice. “He's a
zombie
. And don't ask me how the hell that's possible, because he wasn't only a couple of hours ago.”

“You're
certain
he's a zombie?” Brian asked, doubt thick in his voice. “It doesn't seem possible that he could be up and around so soon, even if he was turned immediately after you saw him.”

“I'm positive, and Philip agrees. But I can't figure out why the hell Pietro or Kyle would turn
this
guy. I mean, he's an asshole! And Pietro hated him as much as I did.” I snorted. “He even told me not to kill him if I saw him on the street—said Gentry was his.”

“Kyle?” Brian asked, and I realized he didn't know Kyle had been taken. Before I could explain I heard a frantic scuffling sound on the other end of the line, then Dr. Nikas's breathless voice.

“Angel. Repeat what you said.”

Mildly perplexed I did so.

“Oh, dear,” Dr. Nikas murmured. “What is his condition now?”

My confusion increased. “Out cold,” I told him. “We have him secured, though. Ziptied wrists and ankles.”

“Is his skin icy and pale?” he asked with a strange urgency. “Check the inside of his eyelids. Are they pale as well? As if there's barely enough blood to make them pink?”

“Um, hang on, and I'll check.” I jogged back up the tunnel to Gentry and checked his skin and eyelids. Philip gave me a questioning look, but I could only give him an I-have-no-fucking-idea shrug in response. “Yes, to all of that,” I told Dr. Nikas. “What's going on?”

“Oh. Oh my goodness,” he breathed. “Bring him. Bring him with you when you come here.”

“Sure, but how—” I stopped at the sound of more scuffling, and then Brian came back on the line.

“Angel, tell me where you are.”

“Right by Lincoln Center.” I quickly explained where the hatch was, then brought him up to speed on Kyle's capture, Naomi's injury, and Andrew as hostage.

“Get everyone ready to move,” Brian said. “I'll call you when I'm five minutes out.” And with that he hung up.

Sighing, I pocketed the phone. “Time to say goodbye to the roaches and rats, everyone.”

Chapter 29

When the call came, we hustled everyone up the tunnel and to the surface. Or rather, Philip carried Naomi to the ladder and followed her up as she did an awkward one-footed climb, then Brian came down and hoisted Andrew—ziptied, gagged, and blindfolded—over his shoulder and carried him up the ladder, repeated the process with Gentry, and finally I brought up the rear. Fortunately, Brian had strategically parked the big-ass SUV right by the hatch, and we managed to get everyone in without any witnesses to the fact that two members of our party were having fun with zipties.

Still out cold, Gentry took up the floor by the middle row of seats, while Andrew got the floor of the back row.

Brian drove in silence, no doubt because of Andrew's presence. Philip and I sat in the middle row while Naomi took the back in order to put her leg up on the seat. Unsettled, I kept looking down at Gentry. Why had Dr. Nikas sounded so agitated
and yet so protective of the asshole? I looked up to see Brian watching me in the rearview mirror. I gave him a worried
What the fuck?
look, which he returned.

As soon as we were certain no one was following, I pulled out my phone and texted Jane an update on our status, along with a promise to call her as soon as I knew more. After I sent it, I sighed, wishing I had good news about Pietro for her. Instead we were back to square one. Hell, square zero.

On the floor behind me, Andrew made muffled noises behind the gag. “Shut up, Andrew,” I said quietly but oh-so-firmly, hoping he heard the unspoken,
or I will help you shut up
.

“Yeah, what she said,” Naomi added in a similar tone.

I rubbed the place on my arm where Philip had cut the bug out. Even though it was all healed up, the
idea
of it still festered. How much had they heard? The thing had been in there for months, which meant they'd been able to spy on all sorts of shit. Every phone call, every personal conversation, even stuff I did at work. Did they get a sick thrill when they listened to Marcus and me having sex? Did they laugh when we broke up? How hard did they snicker when I poured my heart out to Naomi . . . ?

Shock jerked me upright. I spun in my seat to look at Naomi, then gestured wildly at the spot on my arm and to her. Clearly baffled, she opened her mouth to speak, but I frantically waved her quiet while pointing to Andrew. I didn't want him to hear
any
of this. She frowned but closed her mouth, and I pointed to my arm then her again.

The bug,
I mouthed.
They know about you!

Her bafflement increased.
Go pout too?

I rolled my eyes and tried again, and this time Naomi's eyes flew open wide as it hit her.
My mother!
she mouthed in reply as horror crawled over her face.
She knows I'm alive!

I scowled and nodded, then pointed at Andrew again.
But I don't think he knows.
If he did, then he'd have also known Naomi was Julia, and he'd given no hint of recognition. None. Zip. Zero. The dude was clever, but no way was he that good an actor.

Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the bound, gagged, and blindfolded form of her brother, and I had a feeling her thoughts were echoing mine. An instant later her horror shifted to rage.
She held back intel and let him think I was dead? That fucking bitch!

Couldn't argue with her there. She slumped back and let her gaze drift out the window as she tried to process this revelation. Suddenly exhausted, I shut my eyes and leaned my head back. Right now all I wanted was to get settled someplace that wasn't a grimy underground tunnel, where I could have a few minutes of not-worrying. Yeah, that would rock.

The overhead light woke me, and I opened my eyes to see we were in a garage with the door closing behind us.

“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing grit out of my eyes.

“Queens,” Brian said. He got out, came around and opened my door. “Let's get him inside.” He gestured to the still unconscious Gentry at my feet. “We'll leave Saber in here for a moment.”

“Maybe you should leave the car running,” Naomi grumbled as Philip helped her out.

I grinned at her comment then had to focus all my attention on helping Brian get the heavy Gentry out of the SUV, through the utility room, and into the house. It was a two story deal, and at first glance appeared to be at least four bedrooms. An older house, I figured, judging by the mild wear and tear on corners and floors and walls. Nicely furnished with nothing extravagant. Comfy.

Dr. Nikas stood in the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of Gentry. “Oh. Oh, my. Bedroom.” He gestured to a hallway. “Please bring him to the master bedroom.”

“Sure thing,” I wheezed. Good grief, were there any steroids this asshole hadn't used? By the time we muscled Gentry down the hall and into the indicated bedroom, I was more than ready to drop his ass on the floor. The only reason I didn't was because Brian gave me a
look
as if he knew exactly what I had in mind—probably because he felt the same way. In the end it was only because it was Dr. Nikas who asked that we went ahead and flopped the brute onto the bed.

“I hate this fucker more and more,” I muttered as I caught my breath, then straightened and tried to look cool as Dr. Nikas entered behind us.

“Remove the restraints,” he said. He didn't look at either one of us. He was focused fully on Gentry the Giant Heavy Deadweight.

I gave him a dubious look. “What if he wakes up?” From the other side of the bed, Brian looked equally doubtful.

“It will be all right,” Dr. Nikas replied, utterly calm as he moved up to Gentry's head. He laid a hand on the man's forehead, then wiped his fingers down and over his cheek. He touched them to his tongue, using his weird zombie-taste diagnostics, then exhaled softly. “He won't hurt any of us.”

“How can you be sure?” I asked. I noticed that Brian wasn't moving to cut the zip ties. Nice to know he and I were totally on the same page here.

Dr. Nikas pursed his lips and glanced at the two of us as if unsure whether to speak. “Because . . . this isn't who you think it is,” he said, which of course explained absolutely nothing. He peered at the unconscious man. “You said his name was Gentry?”

My confusion increased. “Yeah. Gentry. Um, Pierce Gentry.” That's what Pietro had said, right? I peered at the Saberton guard's face. It
was
him, wasn't it? The eyebrows were a lot shaggier than I remembered, but otherwise it sure looked like the same man. “I don't understand. Does Pierce have a twin who's a zombie?”

The man in question stirred, and I took an automatic step back from the bed.

“No twin.” Dr. Nikas shook his head, then gestured to Brian. “
Please
, cut the bindings.”

Gentry groaned. “These . . . two . . .” He dragged in a breath. “. . . tell them.”

“Tell?” I stared at Dr. Nikas. Brian still hadn't pulled a knife to cut the zipties. “What on earth is going on? Tell what?”

Dr. Nikas moved to the door and closed it, then returned to the bedside, rested a hand on Gentry's shoulder, and spoke to him in a language that sounded sort of like Russian. Gentry shifted and, to my shock, answered in the same language.

I stared at them both. “What the shit?”

Dr. Nikas spoke in a quiet voice, eyes still on Gentry. “This is Pietro.”

Brian's eyes narrowed in suspicion and doubt. “Step away from him, Dr. Nikas.”

“What the shit?” I repeated.

Dr. Nikas stood and faced us, irritation wrinkling his forehead. “No, I will not step away from him,” he said firmly. “And don't even think of tranqing me,” he added with a surprisingly sharp glare at Brian. “This
is
the one you knew as Pietro.”

Crap. How the hell could I doubt Dr. Nikas when he was so clear and insistent? I shifted my attention to Gentry again. “How can this be Pietro?”

Gentry opened his eyes and met mine, drew a deep and difficult breath. “Ate . . . motherfucker's . . . brain.”

Well, that was something anyone pretending to be a loyal zombie would say. Besides, we'd all eaten bunches of brains without turning into someone else. I narrowed my eyes. “What color shirt was I wearing when I ran into you and Jane at Dear John's Café?”

“No idea.” He took a labored breath. “What color tie . . . was I . . . wearing?”

Shit. Bastard had a point, but it only made my pissy mood pissier. “No idea,” I muttered, then planted my hands on my hips and scowled. “How the hell can you be Pietro?”

“Gourmet . . . Gala.” He licked dry lips. “Bitch . . . jacket. You . . . wanted to . . . slug her.”

My hands dropped to my sides. “Oh, man.” At the Gourmet Gala several months ago I'd worn a really cool thigh length dark red velvet jacket I'd bought at a thrift shop, and then had an unpleasant encounter with the previous owner that Pietro had witnessed. And that was
before
Saberton implanted the stupid bug.

“Brian, it's
him
,” I said, then looked to Dr. Nikas. “
How
?”

Brian gave me a long frowning look, but finally moved forward and sliced through the zipties.

“He chose to morph,” Dr. Nikas said as he rolled Gentry/Pietro to his back and rubbed at his wrists. “He was not planning on doing so for several more decades.”

I bit back the urge to say
What the shit?
again, but the frustration nearly swallowed me whole. “Morph? But what does that
mean?

“He repatterned his DNA to mimic Pierce Gentry's. The process is very similar to the zombie healing, but using a different blueprint rather than the existing one.”

It was a small consolation that Brian mirrored my open-mouthed stare. “We can
do
that?” I spluttered. That gave a whole new meaning to
You are what you eat
.

Dr. Nikas shook his head. “Only a very few can. The mature ones.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Pietro didn't take over Gentry's body, but instead changed his
own
body to Gentry's shape, based on Gentry's DNA.” When Dr. Nikas nodded, I continued, “Which means that the real Gentry's corpse is still out there somewhere. Am I tracking right?”

“Dead on.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and peered at Gentry's face. I wasn't anywhere near as freaked out as I probably should've been. “Now what?”

“He needs water and supplements,” Dr. Nikas stated, and with that he left the room.

Gentry/Pietro shifted his head to look at me with half-lidded eyes. I met his gaze and sighed heavily. “Pietro, you stole the identity of an
asshole!

His lip curled in agreement. “Best choice . . . available.”

“At least you killed him,” I said.

“Deserved worse,” he replied, voice getting a bit stronger. “And I am no longer . . . Pietro. Cannot be.” Regret and frustration swept across his face before he shook his head. “Cannot be. Must be Pierce now.”

“Pierce,” I echoed. “Got it.” Too weird. But at least it was kind of close to Pietro.

Pierce's
eyes met mine again. “Jane?”

“She's safe,” I told him. “She got out before all the shit hit the fan. I made sure of that.”

Clearly relieved, he nodded and closed his eyes again, though I didn't think he was sleeping. A few minutes later Dr. Nikas returned holding a tray with four glasses. Two looked as if they contained water, but the other two held murky, muddy substances—one a dusky blue and the other a sickly green.

“Brian, will you adjust the pillows to allow him to sit up a bit more?” Dr. Nikas asked. Brian complied, and as soon as Pierce was more upright the doctor handed Brian the glass containing the blue drink. “Have him drink this one first, then the water,” he instructed, then passed me the glass of gross green stuff. “It looks worse than it tastes, but it should counter most of the symptoms of the imprint until we return home.”

I made the mistake of sniffing it. “Oh, that's nasty,” I said with a shudder. “Will Philip have to drink this too?”

Amusement flickered behind the weariness in his eyes. “He already has.”

Damn it. I held my breath and chugged it down, surprised to find that it really did look and smell worse than it tasted. Still, it wasn't a chocolate milkshake by any stretch, and I gladly accepted the water he had ready.

Once I cleared the yucky taste from my mouth I returned my attention to Pierce. He'd finished the blue drink and the water, and didn't look quite as flattened anymore. Dr. Nikas took his wrist to check his pulse, and the faint smile of admiration and respect Pierce gave him was all the confirmation I needed that this really was the man I'd known as Pietro Ivanov.

“They have Kyle,” I told him, finally able to let that worry surface. “They tranqed him while we were getting out. We have to go back for him.”

Brian gave a grim nod. “We need to make a plan. Dr. Nikas, is Philip stable enough to take Naomi to an urgent care clinic for her ankle?”

“He should remain stable for long enough to accomplish that,” Dr. Nikas replied as he gently set Pierce's wrist down.

Pierce drew a sharp breath. “Marcus—”

“Marcus went to New Orleans the day after you were taken,” I told him, then smacked my forehead. “Shit! I meant to call him and give him an update.”

He shook his head, pushed up on his elbows despite the distressed noise that wrung from Dr. Nikas. “No. No. They have him.”

Shock held me in its grip for several seconds. “You're wrong,” I finally managed to force out. “That's not possible. He was with me that evening.”

“Angel, believe me.” His eyes met mine. They were light grey rather than deep brown now, but I recognized the force behind them. “Saberton has him.”

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