White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (34 page)

Dr. Nikas pushed off the counter, gave me a sad little smile. “We can talk about this more later. If you’re still willing, I’ll
have Jacques take your blood, and then Brian can drive you home.”

Home. Right. Wherever the hell that was. “Sure thing,” I replied numbly.

He gave me a small nod, then turned and left me alone with my roiling thoughts.

I gave a pint of my blood to Jacques, accepted a packet of brains in return, then checked on Philip. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably, and the lines of pain in his face had smoothed out a bit. After twitching the blanket a bit higher over his shoulders, I looked over to the waiting Brian.

“Are you my ride?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied. “No rush.”

Kyle was resting quietly. Heather lay stretched out on the mattress beside him reading to him in a low voice from a book called
Abaddon’s Gate
with a big spaceship on the cover. They weren’t cuddling or anything, but I didn’t think Brian was thrilled about it anyway. A whisper of an expression that might have been jealousy touched his face but disappeared the instant he realized I was looking at him.

Ooooh, Brian really does like Heather!
My inner third-grader cheered. But then I had to mask a grin. It was only fair to leave open the possibility that it was
Kyle
who Brian liked. Either way it seemed there might be some zombie soap opera brewing.

Still hiding a smile, I exited the lab with Brian close behind, headed to his Escalade and allowed him to hold the passenger door open for me, but only because he beat me there.

“To Marcus’s house?” Brian asked after he climbed into the driver’s seat, and it took me a minute to remember why the heck he wanted to drive me there instead of my own house.

“Oh, yeah, right,” I said. “My house is probably somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico by now.”
And so now I’m gonna stay with Marcus
. I held back a grimace. This had the potential to be awkward. After the attack at the boat launch I’d spent the night with him, but that had been the first time in ages. And now I was about to basically move in, for who the hell knew how long.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “You’ve had a devastating couple of days.”

“It sure hasn’t been the best week of my life,” I said then shook my head. “No, actually it was a pretty decent week, even with all of the Saberton crap. It was only a few hours on Friday morning that sucked sweaty balls.”

Brian let out a low snort. “That land you were living on, do you own it?”

“Well, my dad does, yeah,” I replied. “So it’d be stupid not to stay there.” I shook my head. “It was all right for ordinary flood levels. The spillway break was a once in a lifetime thing.” I winced. “At least I sure as hell hope so. Anyway, I’m hoping I can buy a trailer or something and put it there.”

“They have some pretty nice ones these days,” Brian offered. “And modular housing that doesn’t look like a trailer.”

“Even if I want to get a shitty one, I’m gonna have to borrow money.” I scowled. “Damn. This sucks. The only person in the world who might be willing to loan me
money would maaaaaybe be Pietro, and…” I trailed off with a sigh.

Brian glanced over at me. “And?”

“I don’t know if I want the strings that would come with it,” I said quietly.

“Maybe find out what the strings will be before writing off the possibility,” Brian replied. At least he wasn’t denying that said strings would exist. “Can’t hurt to talk to him. You don’t have to commit to anything.”

“Oh, I intend to talk to him. I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I shook my head. “That’s the worst part. I
don’t
have a choice. Who the hell else would write me or my dad a loan to buy even a crappy used trailer at rates that aren’t criminal?”

“I see what you mean,” Brian said, exhaling. “But the alternative—having no resource at all—would be worse. And, yes, I know I’m biased.” He gave me a slight smile.

“I know, I know,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “I’m lucky to even have this option. Don’t mind me. I’m being stupid.” I
was
lucky. I knew that. How did people without credit or collateral or other options go about rebuilding after a disaster?

“Not stupid,” he said. “Simply wary of walking open-eyed into a trap. I get it.”

“Right,” I said. “I’ve done that kind of thing already and it wasn’t fun.” Like trading myself for my dad to end up as one of Dr. Charish’s lab rats. I didn’t regret doing so for a second, but damn, that had
not
been fun.

Brian cleared his throat softly. “I owe you an apology.”

Frowning, I glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “About what happened to you with Kristi Charish…and McKinney. I missed identifying McKinney as William Rook, an operative working for Saberton at the time.” His hands tightened
briefly on the steering wheel. “Charish hired him not knowing who he was,” Brian continued. “McKinney got the info he needed and put her together with Saberton. The rest progressed from there.”

I took that in, then shook my head. “Charish woulda still found a way to fuck Pietro over. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I don’t dwell on it, but I damn sure haven’t forgotten it,” Brian said, jaw tight. “Rook was good,
really
good, at what he did.” Sighing, he shook his head. “If I’d uncovered him at any point, it would have saved a lot of loss, and certainly would have kept you out of that situation. Maybe even cut off Charish before she gave too much to Saberton.” He slanted a glance my way. “Only speculation now, though. Didn’t have her under close enough supervision. I’ve tightened everything up since then.”

“All of this corporate espionage shit is pretty crazy,” I said. “Like the whole business with Philip.”

Brian gave a slight nod. “He endured a great deal and gained us a tremendous advantage.”

“Right,” I said. “But, um, Pietro said something that I’ve been thinking about: Philip was undercover with Saberton before I got kidnapped, right?”

Apparently Brian knew exactly where I was going with this. “You want to know why Pietro left you in that lab if he knew what was going on.”

I smiled tightly. “Something like that.”

“Basically, he didn’t know,” Brian said. I gave him a dubious look, and he continued, “Philip managed to get onto the volunteer list for Charish’s project by some devious sleight of hand and was only able to send a very terse message to that effect before he was taken to Charish’s lab at that factory. And once there, he had no opportunity to get a message out with details or location.” He looked over at me. “Angel, I give you my word on this.”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. I trusted Brian to tell
me the truth—at least as far as he knew it. “Okay.” I fell silent for the rest of the drive. I’d thought I’d known how high the stakes were for Pietro and zombies in general, but in reality they were higher than I could’ve ever imagined. It wasn’t simply Pietro versus Saberton. The safety of every zombie, as well as our ability to live relatively normal lives and blend in with regular society, depended on guarding our secrets and being the first to make the advances such as fake brains and ways to modify the parasite. Pietro had to be ruthless for a reason, and I truly
did
understand it.

So maybe it was time for me to let go of some of my grudges. Even if I could possibly live a couple hundred years, life was still too damn short to cling to regrets or old anger. Maybe that was maturity—understanding that even the bad shit makes you who you are.

Maturity still sucked. And though I was ready to forgive Pietro, that didn’t mean I had to trust him farther than I could throw him. Maturity didn’t have to equal stupidity.

We pulled into Marcus’s driveway, and Brian put the Escalade into park.

“Thanks for the drive,” I said. “And for listening to me whine.”

“You’re welcome, Angel,” he replied. “And you have my number if you ever need anything.”

“Um. No, I don’t anymore, actually. Flood got it too.”

He pulled out a new card, then wrote another number on the back. “If it’s an emergency, and you can’t get me, call that number and tell them ‘one one three Archer.’ That will ensure you get assistance.”

I took the card, nodded. Sometimes those strings-attached could be lifelines as well.

Marcus barreled out of the house and rushed to me, crutches and all, as I climbed out of the SUV. “Angel!” He gave a quick nod of thanks to Brian but stopped before
pulling me into a hug. Instead he simply took hold of my shoulders. “I’ve been so worried about you. Sarge was supposed to go by for you last night but got called to deal with looters.” Uncertainty warred with relief in his eyes. I abruptly remembered that our last conversation had been oh-so less than pleasant, and because I’d hung up on him, he didn’t know where we stood. All that seemed like a million years ago.

I slipped my arms around him and pulled him close. I felt a shudder of relief pass through him as he dropped the crutches and returned the embrace. “It’s okay, hero,” I murmured. “It’s been a weird couple of days, for sure.” I drew back to look into his face. “My dad is here, right? Is he okay?”

“He’s watching TV in the guest room,” Marcus told me. “He’s fine. How about you?” His brow creased. “What happened to you today?”

Brian cleared his throat softly. “Angel, I’ll be going now.”

I glanced over, smiled. “Thanks, Brian.”

He gave us a nod as I closed the passenger door, his professional mask in place while he backed out. Was the official air for Marcus’s benefit? Brian had certainly been more relaxed with me alone. Or maybe it was simply habit. Who could tell with him?

After retrieving the crutches, Marcus and I headed inside where he immediately tossed the crutches into the corner and stumped along on his half cast.

“It must suck having to wear a cast,” I said.

Marcus nodded. “Yeah. Everything went fine until the car shifted and caught my leg,” he said as we settled onto the couch. “Fortunately Uncle Pietro has a doctor lined up for us to take care of hospital red tape. Can’t get out of having an injury, but it keeps too many questions from being asked.”

Now that was pretty damn useful. There was a lot I still didn’t
know about the workings of the zombie subculture, but Pietro sure seemed to have his fingers in a lot of it. Then again, if he’d been around for centuries or so, it made sense that he’d have made plans for stuff like that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re in one piece
and
saved that family,” I told him with a kiss.

He returned it enthusiastically as we settled on the couch, but before we could get too distracted I paused the general naughtiness and proceeded to give him a rundown of the events of the past few days. The firefighter on Highway 1790, Philip undercover, Saberton and their shenanigans, the movie extras as test subjects, Philip freaking out and the resulting mayhem on the movie set, Dr. Charish and her fuckups. I didn’t hold anything back, though I was well aware how outlandish some of it seemed. I figured that if Pietro didn’t want Marcus to know
all
of it, that was his own damn problem, and he should have warned me.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Marcus breathed when I finished. “Uncle Pietro had all of that going on?” To my relief he seemed to accept the whole thing without question, even the parts that sounded batshit crazy.

“Yeah, it was a mess.” I rubbed at my eyes. The fatigue was starting to catch up with me. “I need to check on my dad.”

Marcus nodded. “He’s in the guest bedroom at the end of the hall.”

I left Marcus on the couch and headed that way. The door was open, and my dad sat in a comfy-looking recliner watching TV.

“Hey, Dad, you doing okay?” I asked. I searched for any hint of anger or his usual orneriness, but apparently having a plush recliner and a flat screen went a long way toward pacifying him.

He looked over, gave me a slight smile. “Hey, Angelkins. I’m doin’ fine.”

“So, um, everything’s cool between you and Marcus?”

His bony shoulders lifted in a shrug. “We had a few words.” He paused. “More than a few. But I’m sitting in his house, so that should tell you something.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” I didn’t even want to think of what words had been exchanged. “Look, I’m gonna ask Pietro Ivanov if he’ll cosign a loan for me.”

He frowned. “Why the hell would someone like that help you out with a loan?” The frown shifted to a familiar scowl. “And, dammit, I don’t want to be sucking up to
any
Ivanovs.”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossed my arms over my chest. “You think a bank will hand over enough to put our lives back together?” I asked.

A grimace deepened the lines in his face. “No, you’re right. No chance with a bank.”

“I’m hoping Pietro will help since he’s, uh, like me and Marcus.”

“Shit!” His jaw actually dropped a little. “You mean he’s a—”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s the one who made Marcus…like him. A zombie.”

My dad let out a low whistle. “Jesus Christ.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “How many of, er, you lot are there?”

I had to stop and think about that. “I don’t really know, actually. I think there’s maybe a dozen or so in this area,” I hedged. I had a feeling there was a higher concentration around here because of Pietro’s operation and support. It surely couldn’t be as high everywhere. There simply wouldn’t be enough brains to feed everyone. Plus, if there were a whole lot of zombies spread out everywhere, it would be impossible to keep it hidden from the general public.

“That’s too damn weird,” he muttered. “Y’all have meetings or anything?”

I let out a bark of laughter at the thought.
Zombies Anonymous? Hello, my name is Angel, and it’s been three weeks since I’ve shambled
. “No,” I said, grinning. “At least none that I’ve been invited to.”

He merely snorted. “Don’t let the bastards leave you out, Angel. You’re better than any of them.”

A sudden jolt of worry went through me. “Uh, Dad, you know you can’t tell anyone about me being a zombie right? Or about Marcus or Pietro either.” Shit. I’d outed both of them without even thinking, and there wasn’t any good reason for doing it. I mean, I trusted my dad, but I needed to be more careful.