Love in the Time of Zombies (25 page)

“I
would not!”  Brewer denied indignantly.  “Cale and me are in this together.  I’m
part of a team with him and Joseff, in fact.”

“
My
Joseff?”  Darcy scoffed.  “The Joseff who you want to abandon here to die?  He
joined a
team
with you?”  Somehow she doubted that.

“Well,
we were still negotiating the roster when Joseff jumped off the balcony.”  Brewer
admitted.  “I think he was convinced to join us, though.”

“There
is no
us
.”  Zeke snapped.  “There’s
us
and there’s
you
.  You’re
not on the team.”

Brew
scowled at him.  “Am too.  It’s my job to look out for you little turds.  I’m
the oldest.  Now, if you wanna get in there to rescue your mates, we should do
it someplace less guarded.”

“We
don’t have time.”  Darcy insisted.  “We have to get in there
now
.  God
only knows what those humans are doing to Joseff.”  She was trying not to think
about it, but the possibilities were pecking at her brain like crows.

“How
did the humans even find us?”  Caleb asked no one in particular.  “I’ll believe
they invented the pink zombie gas.  Humans are good at that science shit.  But,
the raid on the casino was awfully systematized for them.  It was like they
knew just how to attack us.”

“Does
it matter how they did it?  I just want to get my mate.”  Darcy tried to focus. 
“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this:  First, we’re going to kill the
guards.  Then, we’re going to dress in their uniforms, so no one sees us
walking in there.  Then, I’m going to find Joseff.  Z, you’re going to find
Scottie.  Caleb, you steal us a getaway car and look for tools to cut those
off.”  She nodded to his cuffs.  “Then, we meet back here and get the hell out
of town.  We good with that?”

“Nice
plan.”  Zeke nodded.  “Kinda like
A New Hope
.”

“I
know. 
Star Wars
can teach you anything.”

Caleb
ignored them and craned his neck up peer at the humans over the hood of the
SUV.  “Did Luke Skywalker have any tips on how to take out armed guards from
twenty yards away?  ‘Cause, all our weapons sank.”

Brewer
scowled at them.  “Assholes.”  He reached up to open the passengers’ side door
of the pickup behind him.  Popping the glove compartment, he came up with a
silver revolver right out of a Wyatt Earp film.  “We’re in goddamn Nevada.”  He
reminded them.  “Everybody in this state has a gun in their truck.”  Standing
up, he went stalking towards the glass doors of the casino entrance.  “Don’t
shoot!”  He frantically called.  “I’m a harmless human!”

Darcy’s
eyes went wide.  “
Brewer.
  Get back here.”

The
two guards quickly spotted him.  Pushing their way through the glass door, they
charged across the parking lot.  “Get on the ground!  Get on the ground!”  They
ordered, brandishing their weapons.

“Shit!” 
Zeke started after Brewer, preparing to tackle him before the men could open
fire.  He might snap at Brew, but he had a soft spot for the guy.  They all
did.

Caleb
caught hold of Zeke’s sleeve, keeping him down.  “Brew’s got this.”  He said
confidently.  “It’s the same trick he used to get us into that Rolling Stones concert
when you were fifteen.”

“I’m
being chased by zombies!”  Brewer shouted, still striding forward.  “You boys have
to help me!  I’m a frail senior citizen and there’s too many of them!  They’re
right behind me!  Shoot ‘em!  Quick! 
Shoot ‘em!
”

The
two men took their attention off Brew, scanning the aisles of cars for an
invasion of the undead…  Which was the last mistake they ever made.

The
instant they looked away, Brewer lifted the gun and casually shot both men
straight through their helmets.  He didn’t hesitate.  Didn’t slow his steps. 
He just shot them before they had a chance to react.  The two men fell to the
pavement, still clutching their weapons and poised for a zombie attack.

Caleb,
Zeke, and Darcy slowly stood up to survey the carnage.

Brew
nodded sagely.  “Yep… I coulda been an actor, except I like fucking women.”  He
turned to arch a brow at them.  “So, I got you your uniforms. 
And
some
guns. 
And
cleared your access point.”  He smirked at Zeke.  “Told ya I
was part of the team.”

***

The
plastic clown stared at Joseff.

Joseff
stared back at the plastic clown.

This
was not how he’d pictured his death.  For one thing, Joseff had always assumed
it would be on a glorious battlefield.  There would probably be some backstabbing
shifters involved, of course.  And it would no doubt come as a result of rescuing
Darcy from some insane disaster.  Obviously, it would all lead to Joseff going
out in a blaze of glory worthy of an unconquered king.  Then, would come the
inevitable statues in his honor and maybe a vampiric holiday to commemorate the
fateful date.

All
in all, in his head, it had seemed very dignified and not so DayGlo.

Joseff
had clearly been far too harsh with the Liberty Hall casino.  The Ben Franklin shaped
soap didn’t seem nearly so atrocious now that he was chained in the middle of a
nightclub called “Clownz.”  Everywhere on every surface, there were clowns. 
Laughing clowns, sad clowns, scary clowns, and clowns with creepy, too-wide
smiles.  They were painted on the walls.  They were statues.  They were on the
upholstery of the chairs.

Usually,
the space was illuminated with black lights, so everything was pained in
iridescent oranges, yellows, and greens.  That made it all the worse.  The
painfully bright colors and the balloon shaped chandeliers and aquariums full
of clown fish…

He
was going to die in Bozo’s bordello.

Joseff
checked his watch.  It was difficult to do when he was manacled to the wall
with his hands stretched over his head, but he really wanted to speed this
along.  If he was doomed to perish in such an ignominious spot, he just wanted
to get it over with already.  Although, he did have to wonder if the iron
chains had been in the nightclub
before
the zombie apocalypse just to
keep the patrons from fleeing the horror.  They were situated around the room,
ready to hold prisoners, but Joseff was the only one there, at present.

Well,
not the
only
one…

“At
last we meet, vampire,” said the dickhead human in front of him.  “It’s been a
long time coming, hasn’t it?”

Joseff
arched a brow.  “Kid, I have no idea who you are.”  He said honestly.

The
human scowled.  He was in his thirties, with brown goatee and an outfit straight
out of Idiot’s Surplus.  There were a half-dozen weapons draped around his
torso, his protective suit sealed tight against even the tiniest dust mote.  Whatever
that white plastic was made of, it stopped Joseff from mind controlling the
humans into releasing him.  He’d already tried.

“I’m
Marcus Conners.”  The human snapped, as if his name meant something.  Apparently,
he thought he was important enough that Joseff should recognize him.  Gods only
knew why.

Joseff
was coming up empty.

“I’m
Marcus Conners.
”  Marcus Conners repeated when Joseff just gazed at him
blankly.  “General of the AHA.”

“…Alright.” 
Joseff shrugged and gave up trying to place the asshole.  “If that’s some kind
of home owners’ association, I should tell you I rent.”

“It
stands for All Human Army, you disgusting monster.  We’ve dedicated our lives
to wiping out the plague of supernatural vermin.”

Joseff
snorted.  “Well, you picked a good week for it.  I suggest you start with the
zombies.”

Marcus
leaned closer to him.  “You fool.  We’re the ones who
created
the
zombies.”

Oh.

Well,
that solved
that
mystery.  Joseff had known that pink gas was beyond the
shifters’ skillset.  He still felt like he was missing something, though.  “Any
particular reason you ended the world. Marcus?”

“We’re
saving
the world from creatures like
you
.  You and the shifters
and the sirens are far more dangerous than the zombies could ever
dream
of.”

“I
don’t think the statistics will bear that out.  Especially with the sirens. 
Half the strippers in Vegas are sirens and they barely kill anyone.”

“Vampires.” 
Marcus hissed.  “They’re murderers. 
You
are a murderer.  That’s why I
had standing orders that you weren’t to be killed.  I want to look into your
eyes as you die, so you’ll know that I had my vengeance for Grandma Patsie.”

Christ,
it was like torture only boring.  “Who?”

Marcus
developed a faraway look.  “I was seven years old when it all happened.  I came
home from little league and found Grandma drained on the living room floor.”  His
pulled a woken stake from the loop on his belt, holding it up in his best Van
Helsing pose.  “That day, I vowed revenge on the vampires.  No matter what I
had to do or who I had to work with, I pledged to dedicate my
life
to
wiping out all supernatural vermin.”

“So
you’ve said.”  Joseff sighed.  “I don’t suppose you’ll care, but I doubt I
killed your grandmother.  I don’t leave bodies lying around.”

“It
doesn’t matter.  With their king dead, the vampires will be broken.  They’ll
finally be finished.”

“More
likely, they’ll just get another king.”  Joseff was a realist.  “Look, can we
speed this along or should I just kill
myself?
”

Marcus
punched him.  Repeatedly.  His fist pounded into Joseff’s face again and again.

It
was still better than listening to him talk, though.

In
a frenzy, the human reared back.  He lifted the stake, preparing to sink it
into Joseff’s chest.  Joseff braced himself.  This wasn’t the death he’d
anticipated, but the most important part of his plan had been fulfilled and that
was all that mattered.  He’d protected Darcy.  His mate was safe and his last
thoughts in this world would be of her.  He had no regrets, at all.

Except
for not sleeping with her.

Fuck,
that had been a huge mistake.  If he had a second chance, he would do whatever
it took to convince her that he could be her mate…

Bang.

The
loud report of a gunshot echoed in the nightclub, cutting off Joseff’s final
contemplations.  Marcus paused, the stake still raised to strike… Then, he
slowly keeled over.  His entire body collapsed into a heap, the wooden spike
rolling free.  In the side of his neck there was a neat bullet hole.  Someone
had just killed the guy trying to kill him.

Joseff
blinked, his gaze slowly moving to the doorway where a person in a spacesuit
stood with a smoking gun.  “If this going to lead to another story about a dead
grandmother, you can just shoot me, too.”

“My
grandmother died in the French Revolution, dipshit.”  Darcy pushed back her
helmet to arch a brow at him.  “She took out fifty-four peasants and a priest
before they beheaded her.”

Joseff
smiled, his heart swelling.  He had his second chance.  “I remember Yvette.” 
He got out.  “Lovely woman.  Although not a lovely as her granddaughter.”

“Anyone
with a rescue plan would look lovely to you, right now.”  Darcy shut the door
behind her and stepped into the nightclub.  Topaz eyes drifted around the
room.  “Holy clowns.  No wonder I never came to this bar.”

“Imagine
how I feel.  I almost died with them gawking at me.”  Joseff tried to keep his
voice level, but it was hard.  He was torn between staggering joy that she was
standing in front of him and annoyance that she’d put herself at risk.  “What
are you doing here, Darcia?”

“I
took a wrong turn at the Flamingo.  What the hell do you
think
I’m doing
here?”  She headed over to Marcus and started stripping the plastic suit off of
his body.

Joseff
frowned as she pocked the human’s keys.  “Unchain me.”

“In
a sec.”  Darcy piled Marcus’ white suit to the side.  “Right now, I’m
collecting this stylish new outfit for you.  Then, we can talk.”  There was a
bullet hole in her own plastic helmet, so he could guess how she’d “borrowed”
it.

“I
don’t want to talk.  I want you to unchain me.”

“It
doesn’t really matter what you want, does it?  Right now we’re doing what
I
want.  We’ve done things your way years and this is where it’s gotten us.  You
chained to a wall, a dead body on the ground, and a truckload of clowns.”

“You
think we’ve done things
my
way?”  Joseff echoed.  “Are you out of your
mind?”  If he’d had a vote, they’d have been making love in a Swiss hunting
lodge for the past decade.

“I
am taking control, because you can’t stop being a doofus.”  Darcy dragged Marcus’
naked body towards the back room.  “Deal with it.”

Joseff
rolled his eyes.  The woman really was delusional.  She’d been in control since
the moment they met.  “How is any of this my fault?”