How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

by Diana Rowland

  Scowling, I shook off the memory. I wasn’t poor anymore. I was broke, and there was a big difference between the two. However, growing up dirt poor had taught me a few things—some bad, like how to shoplift, and some good, like how to scrape by until Dad’s next disability check came in.

  I only considered the shoplifting angle for a second. Or two. Instead I scooped up cheap travel size toiletries at a dollar each, found a two-pack of underwear that I knew would crawl right up my ass, but hey, it was a buck ninety-nine for both, then scrounged up sweat pants and a t-shirt that wouldn’t survive three washings, but hopefully, I wouldn’t need them to.

  Naomi and Kyle were already in line to check out when I approached the registers. I had absolutely no idea how they’d managed in such a short time, but their cart was piled high: Snacks and drinks, miscellaneous clothing and jackets, duffel bags, a large suitcase, and other every day necessities such as rope and zip ties and duct tape.

  I joined a line a few registers down, sternly telling myself I didn’t need to be self-conscious about how little I had in my basket. Someone got in line behind me a few seconds later, and I couldn’t help but smile when he murmured, “Hey, ZeeEm.”

  “Hey, ZeeBee,” I replied. “You doing okay?”

  “Five by five.” He leaned over my shoulder and peered into my basket. “You get everything you needed?”

  The lie leaped to my lips, but I swallowed it back down and shook my head. “I couldn’t get any money from the ATM,” I told him, fighting down a wave of embarrassment. Damn it, harder to shake off those old ghosts than I thought. “I got a toothbrush and deodorant and a change of clothes, but that’s it.”

  He bumped his shoulder lightly into mine. “That’ll get you by for now, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “We’ll be making a stop during the day tomorrow I’m sure. I can help you out.”

  “Sure. Thanks. I mean, I’m sure it’s a computer glitch or something,” I hurried to add. Even though I knew Philip wouldn’t judge or look down at me, I didn’t want to add “can’t manage money” to the list of my obvious faults. “I’ll call the bank in the morning and get it straightened out.”

  We finished our business and got everything loaded into the car. Naomi had the sense to buy a couple of cushy pillows, and I didn’t mind one bit borrowing one when she offered. I jammed it between me and the door, and sighed in relative comfort as Kyle got us going again and back on the interstate.

  What a crazy-ass day. And here I was, on the way to New York City. Exciting and scary, yet after about ten minutes that faded into monotony. Since it was the middle of the night, the scenery sucked. Dark interstate, headlights and taillights, road signs, exits with gas stations and restaurants lit up like Christmas trees, and then more dark interstate.

  I adjusted the pillow, closed my eyes, and let the hum of the tires lull me to sleep.

  * * *

  Philip’s raised voice jarred me from a weird dream about winning the lottery then having to hide on the perm shelf in a beauty supply store because a horde of six-armed insurance salesmen were after me.

  “Not the next exit. Stop now!”

  I opened my eyes and sat up, blinking to focus. Philip was leaning forward, speaking to Kyle, face twisted in concern.

  “What’s wrong?” I peered out the window but saw only the same damn nighttime non-scenery. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Kyle pulled onto the shoulder, and his worried eyes met mine in the rear view mirror.

  Philip abruptly flung the door open on the non-traffic side of the car, then turned to me and jabbed the release on my seat belt. I barely had time for an Oh, no, not again before he seized my wrist and dragged me out. I yelped in pain as I stumbled and landed on my knees in the gravel. “Fucking shit, Philip! Stop!”

  He paused, and for an instant I thought he’d obey me, but he simply spun back to snatch one of the small coolers of brains from the floorboard. As soon as he had it, he pulled me to my feet and took off at a jog toward the guardrail and the woods beyond. I clutched at his forearm to help me keep my balance and fought to dig my heels in, but my barely hundred pounds didn’t stand a chance of slowing him down.

  “Do something!” I yelled back at the others, then saw that they weren’t exactly sitting back and observing. Kyle had the emergency flashers on and a tranq gun in his hand, while Naomi moved toward the trunk of the car.

  “Too dangerous,” Philip said, voice taut and strained as he continued to drag me away from the car. “Too many cars. Too many people.”

  “No! Philip, you have to stop,” I ordered, heart pounding. What if he didn’t snap out of it this time? How far would he go to “protect” me? “Listen to me. It’s more dangerous away from the others!”

  If he heard me it sure as hell didn’t make a difference. Breathing hard and face flushed, he set the cooler down on the other side of the guardrail, bodily lifted me over, then gripped my wrist again before I could make a dash for it. He stepped over, grabbed the cooler, and once again set off toward the woods.

  “Shit, stop! Goddammit!” I seized hold of his hair and tried to figure out how I could jump onto him and bite him the way I had during the mayhem at the movie shoot. Except it’d been summer then, and he hadn’t been wearing a jacket. Could I bite through that, or would I have to try to yank it aside?

  Luckily, I didn’t have to find out. He let out a sudden low moan, stumbled, and went sprawling, taking me down with him. His hand went limp, and I pulled away from him and scrambled to my feet. My legs felt wobbly, as if I’d done a few hundred squats, and I sat back down. Probably a result of the stress and shock.

  “Did you tranq him?” I asked Kyle as he loped up, though I didn’t see any darts sticking out of Philip’s back.

  “No, he went down on his own,” Kyle replied, crouching as Philip rolled drunkenly to his back.

  “Philip?” I put a hand on his shoulder as he blinked up at the sky. The anxiety was gone from his face at least, though now he looked as if he had the mother of all headaches. “Talk to me, damn it.”

  “I’m okay,” Philip said. “Head hurts. You okay, Angel?” He tried to sit up and managed it with our help.

  “I’m good,” I told him. “More worried about you right now.”

  “It was the same as at your house and the spillway.” Dismay wound through his voice. “Like watching myself and having no control. Headache is worse this time though.” He looked around, as if realizing for the first time that we were all sitting in the grass on the side of the interstate. Naomi remained by the car, trunk open as if she was looking for something, but she kept glancing our way, and I didn’t miss the gun in her hand. “Damn. I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault,” I snapped. We needed to find Dr. Nikas more than ever. My legs were behaving now, so I stood and brushed myself off. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Kyle and I helped Philip to his feet, and we returned to the car. Philip settled into the back seat with me again, and Kyle stuck the cooler on the floor between us.

  “That was fun,” Naomi said as she settled in the front. Her eyes flicked from Philip to me and back, worried.

  No one spoke as we resumed driving.

  “Do you have any sort of warning before one of these fits comes on?” I finally asked after a few tension-filled miles. “Y’know, like how migraine sufferers sometimes see auras and stuff?”

  “I’m not sure,” Philip said wearily. “There’s an antsy feeling, but probably too late to do anything about it. Comes on fast.” He grimaced. “It was happening when I told Kyle to stop the car, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”

  “Guess we’ll need to be on our toes then,” I said. “And you still don’t get to drive.”

  I’d hoped for a laugh or at least a smile, but Philip merely looked at Kyle’s hands, tight on the steering wheel. “Locking me down would be better,” he said.


  I stiffened in response to the implied threat, even though he’d been the one doing the implying. “And how do you want to do that?” I demanded. “Go back to the Tribe? Or have us tie you up in a hotel room? You think you’ll be cool separated from me the next time one of your fits comes along?”

  “Handcuffed in the trunk?” he suggested, but it was clear he wasn’t completely serious. At least I hoped not. He gave me a half-hearted smile. “We need some sort of plan. Tranqs don’t always work well on me, and I’m not sure they’d work at all when I’m in that state.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I said and rubbed the back of my neck. I had a bit of my own headache going on. “How the hell can we plan ahead if we don’t know what triggers it, we have no warning, and we don’t know how to stop it?”

  “The episodes are short, which helps,” Philip said, but his expression grew serious. “If this happens again, I want to get locked down. I’m not kidding,” he said at my stubborn expression. “Cuffed and duct taped like a mummy in the trunk would do it.”

  “We’ll talk about it then,” I said stiffly before anyone else could enter an opinion. Kyle and Naomi glanced at each other, but they recognized I wasn’t in the mood to discuss this any more. I crossed my arms over my chest and defiantly closed my eyes, and before I knew it I was asleep again.

  Chapter 13

  The feel of the car slowing down woke me. I opened my eyes to see dawn turning the eastern sky purple and a shift in scenery as we took an exit. Sitting up, I hastily swiped a hand across my face in case I’d drooled. “Where are we?”

  Philip gave me a smile. “About an hour past Birmingham. We’re stopping for breakfast. Waffle Shack okay with you?”

  “Yeah, I can handle that,” I replied. I’d have to order off the dollar menu, but with any luck that would hold me until I had a chance to call the bank and figure out the deal with my account. Past Birmingham. A flutter went through my gut. Before this, the farthest I’d ever been from home was Talladega, twenty minutes east of Birmingham. Every mile we drove took me beyond that old record. Scary and exciting all at once, but thinking about the distance reminded me of something else I needed to do. “Crap, does anyone see a pay phone? I need to call my dad and let him know I’m okay.”

  Kyle looked at me in the rear view mirror. “It’s best not to have any contact.”

  The smile I gave him was stiff. “Yeah. That’s not an option,” I replied. “I’m not going to let my dad think I’ve just fucking disappeared.”

  To my relief Kyle gave me a slight nod, then drove past the Waffle Shack and to a gas station where a pay phone stood at the back of the parking lot.

  “You can’t tell him where we’re going,” Naomi warned as Kyle parked. “The less he knows, the better.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, pretending to be distracted by the search for quarters in my purse.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she retorted.

  I looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. “Means I heard you,” I said. “It’s cool. I understand.” Didn’t mean I would obey her.

  Kyle rolled down his window as I got out. “Remember,” he said with his typical calm tone, “it’s easier to convince someone you don’t know anything when you really don’t know anything than when you try to hide it.”

  Damn it, he had a good point. I nodded once, then jogged over to the phone. My dad wouldn’t be awake yet, but I could wait another four hours and still not have any guarantee he’d be up, much less awake.

  I hung up after the third ring to keep it from going to voicemail and wasting my quarters. It would take a few tries to wake him up anyway. I knew that from long experience. Second try and two rings earned me a “Mmmmf” that sounded like him.

  “Hey, Dad, sorry to wake you so early,” I said. “I called to let you know I’m going out of town for a few days.”

  “Angel? Wha . . . ?” I heard rustling that sounded like him sitting up in bed. “Why? Where?”

  “Some of the people with my medical condition are missing,” I said. “I have to go to, um, another city to look for them.”

  “Another city? What, New Orleans?” More rustling. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, farther away. A lot farther.” I grimaced. The car was on the other side of the lot, and I knew that even a tanked zombie wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation, but Kyle’s warning still resonated through me. “I can’t really say where I’m going, Dad. It’s safer for you that way.”

  “Safer? Ah, shit.” The sleep was gone from his voice now. “What about your job?”

  I smiled at that. He was so proud that I’d held a job for a whole year, and he knew how much it mattered to me, even beyond having the access to brains. “I’m calling work next to take vacation time,” I told him. “It’s cool. I got plenty of time saved up. I’m gonna tell them that I’m visiting a sick aunt in—” I thought quickly. “In Denver. A sick aunt in Denver.”

  “A sick aunt,” he repeated. “In Denver. You expect people to believe that?”

  “They will if you back me up,” I said with a touch of exasperation. “Look, it’s just gonna be a few days. Maybe a week at most.” Godalmighty, I hoped it wouldn’t take more than that. “Dad, the same people who took me that time have some other zombies now.”

  “Shit. Why d’ya have to get mixed up with all of that again?”

  I sighed. “Because if these zombies disappear, then the whole group will probably fall apart, or at least be really weakened. Plus, if the bad company wins, then all the zombies are screwed. Whaddya think will happen if they start outing us? You think the rednecks around there will look at me with loving kindness?”

  “Well, I—” My dad began, then paused. The sound of a woman’s murmured voice in the background sent a jolting shock through me. A second later I heard the distinct sound of the mouthpiece being covered, and my dad speaking, muffled. Then another rustling as he uncovered it again. “Sorry,” he began.

  “Dad,” I interrupted, while I tried to keep my voice from shaking. “Is someone with you?” Damn it all, I’d been spilling my guts about zombies. What the hell had I said? How much could be heard? “Who is it? Who’s with you?”

  “Hang on.”

  More muffled sounds, then the closing of a door. Sounded like he’d left the room.

  “Um, yeah, there’s someone here,” he said, actually sounding a bit sheepish. “It’s Tammy. The lady I went out with last night.”

  “Did she hear what I told you?” I demanded, heart pounding. “Dad, no one else can know about this stuff!”

  “Shit, Angel, I’m not stupid!” he growled. “She didn’t hear nothin’.”

  “Sorry.” I grimaced. “It’s just—” I blinked, as a second horrible thing occurred to me. “Wait, did you sleep with her?”

  “Not a whole lot of sleeping,” he said slyly.

  “Oh my GOD, Dad! On the first date?”

  His dry laughter didn’t improve my mood.

  “Whatever,” I grumbled. “Shit. We’ll talk about this when I get back. I gotta go.”

  “You be careful, Angelkins,” he said. “And you better call me back soon.”

  “I will,” I replied. “Love you.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Love you too.”

  I made my goodbyes and hung up then shuddered. I knew it was cliché to be squicked out by a parent having sex, but Ugh! Doing my best to push away all thoughts of anything related to my dad’s sex life, I dropped the last of my quarters into the phone and dialed Allen Prejean’s number. This was not going to be a fun call, especially since I knew I was probably waking him up as well.

  But I was wrong. When I hung up, I not only had Allen’s approval without hassle for the time off, but his best wishes for my aunt—even though he hadn’t yet had his first cup of coffee. How weird was that?

  Too weird, I dec
ided as I walked back to the others. But I’d take it.

  Only three other cars were in the Waffle Shack parking lot, which meant we pretty much had our pick of the tables. I didn’t even try to take the seat by the wall, and simply accepted that if terrorists stormed the restaurant at six a.m. on a Thursday, I’d be dead meat. I was okay with that.

  The waitress came by to take our orders. I kept my focus on the dollar menu and what cash I had left, and when it was my turn I ordered coffee and a Waffle Shack Snack, whatever the hell that was.

  Philip nudged my foot under the table. I gave him an It’s cool look.

  “That’s all you’re having?” Naomi asked with a tilt of her head as the waitress left. “The food looks really good.”

  Yeah, like back in high school when Miriam Carter and a couple of her friends showed up in the lunchroom with bags of burgers and fries from Bayou Burger and told me I could have some for a dollar. She knew how good those burgers smelled, and she knew I didn’t have a dollar. That particular incident ended with me shoving my bologna sandwich in Miriam’s face. Probably best if I didn’t try that with Naomi.

  “I couldn’t get money from the ATM,” I told her, trying hard not to sound as defensive as I felt. “As soon as the banks open I’ll call and see what the deal is.” Shit. I should’ve asked my dad if he’d taken money out.

  She rolled her eyes and waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Get what you want. We’ll sort it out later. It’ll probably be hours before we stop again.”

  I stared at her. “Did you just fucking roll your eyes at my money problems?” The waitress started our way, but I waved her off again.

  Naomi looked sharply back at me. “I rolled my eyes at you not eating because of something we can sort out later.”

  Stung, I grabbed for the menu again. “Fine. Whatever.” Okay, maybe I was a bit in the wrong, but damn it, so was she. Wasn’t she? I didn’t know what the protocol was for shit like this. My travel experience was zilch, right along with my friends-with-money experience and my how-to-embark-on-a-secret-mission experience.