White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (30 page)

He gave a slow nod as he took it all in. “I seen a lot of weird shit these past few days, and I asked a lot of questions. Like, how the hell you ended up in pieces, and why you couldn't just chomp on a brain and get better.” A shudder went through him. “These lab people are pretty tight-lipped and never would give me a straight answer, but I knew it had to be connected somehow. Guess I ain't as dumb as I look.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank god for that!”

“You little shit.” He laughed and gave me a squeeze. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Dad. I'm so sorry I got into this mess.”

In reply, he dug an object from his pocket and dropped it into my hand.

My throat tightened as I looked down at the heavy coin. “One year sober.”

“Got it last night.” He wiped away tears without shame. “I don't ever wanna go back to what I was before, to what we were before.”

“We won't,” I said with conviction. “You won't, and I won't. We won't let that happen.”

“You're goddamn right.” He paused, smiled. “Cuz we're Crawfords.”

“Dad, the Crawford family tree is full of drunks, criminals, and politicians.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess we got no choice but to take up a life of crime.”

“Um. About that ‘take up' part . . .”

“Jesus, Angel. Next you'll be telling me you wanna run for office, and there's only so much one man can take.”

I laughed and hugged him. “Hell no, Dad. I'm not a
monster
.”

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