White Trash Zombie Apocalypse

by Diana Rowland

  New fervor erupted in the crowd, and screams of non-zombies made my blood run cold. This was turning into total mayhem, and I knew I needed to do something to stop it, but what? My instinct shrieked at me to move, to act. Now.

  Great! Sure! I snarled at it. Tell me what to do and I will!

  Philip made a lunge toward the cheerleader zombie, but I grabbed at his arm and used as much zombie-strength as I could to swing him toward me. Eyes wild, he raised a hand to strike me, tension in every fiber of his body. Yet to my surprise—and deep relief—he held the strike, face contorted and body quivering as though fighting with himself.

  With an animal snarl of my own, I seized his shoulders, leaped up to wrap my arms and legs around him, and then sank my teeth into the big muscle at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

  That, my instinct crooned. Do that.

  My breath hissed around my teeth as I latched onto him like a tick on a hound dog. I had no urge to tear or maul like when I’d turned him into a zombie. Just bite and hold. That was all.

  Philip staggered back and made a strangled noise, but made no attempt to throw me off, though it would’ve been easy enough for him to do, strong as he was. He shook like a dog shedding water, and I bit harder. I heard a low growl and was surprised to realize I was the one making it.

  Philip sank slowly to his knees, breath coming in low shuddering gasps. I kept my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and teeth clamped down hard while I watched the movement around us.

  Brian approached with a tranq gun in one hand and a regular gun in the other. He hesitated, indecision in his eyes as he took in what I was doing to Philip. Apparently this wasn’t any sort of normal operating procedure when trying to subdue a crazed zombie. It was working though, no denying that. And Brian obviously came to the same conclusion, for in the next breath he turned away and began issuing quiet orders to the two people behind him—Rachel and Dan, the two zombies who’d cleaned up the mess after the highway fight with Heather.

  The wails and cries of the fake zombies ceased, leaving a backdrop of shouts, crying, and general standard uproar from the normals. In my peripheral vision I saw the poor extras milling slowly about in confusion or sinking to sit or sprawl on the ground. Some frantically pulled at their prosthetic makeup while others spewed their lunch. Philip continued to calm in my bite-hold, though he still breathed in short, shuddering breaths.

  “Heather, situation,” Brian snapped, eyes returning to Philip and me, tranq gun pointed in our general direction. My eyes went to the gun. A low throbbing growl came from my throat as I snarled at Brian around the bite.

  He blinked and lowered the gun, questions still crowding thick and close behind his eyes.

  “Kyle got tranqed,” Heather said from somewhere behind me. “One target zombie down, tranqed. The other down and injured.” A touch of satisfaction tinged her voice. Roland was the first one, tranqed by Saberton Dude. But the “other” was Tim. I had no doubt she’d found a way to break him enough that he couldn’t get up and cause trouble. “Got a dead Saberton man there and another down with broken face and hand, and the extras are still a bit crazy but more coherent now,” she added.

  Brian gave a sharp nod. “Good. Keep the Saberton man down until we’re ready to withdraw,” he said, then paused as though considering. “And make sure he gets a good look at you.”

  Now, that was interesting. Brian obviously wanted Heather’s brother to know for sure she was working with us. I’d have to ponder the reasons for that later.

  “Dan,” Brian continued, “get Kyle to the van, and then you and Rachel see if you can secure the other two downed zombies. Minimal risk. Our priority is here.” He gave a chin nod toward Philip and me, then frowned at the distant sound of sirens. “Quickly.”

  A shudder went through Philip, but I sensed that it was from agony rather than the out-of-control frenzy state of earlier.

  “Oh god…oh god…kill me.” The words tumbled out of him in cracked and pain-filled sounds. “No more…please.”

  My low growl shifted to a trilling hum. Very carefully and cautiously, I eased the pressure on the bite. Brian took a step closer and crouched.

  “Angel,” he said quietly. “We need to leave before the authorities arrive. Do you think you can get him to my vehicle?”

  I gave a slight nod, then released the bite completely and began to lick the wound. I knew it should have been weird and gross as all hell, but it wasn’t. It was right. I tried not to think too much about that.

  A moaning sob caught in Philip’s throat. “Done…can’t take it anymore…kill me.”

  “Trust me,” I murmured, continuing to lick the bite, though totally ready to clamp down again if he started to freak out. “I’ll take care of you.”

  He bowed his head and went still except for a heavy, generalized shaking. Taking that as consent, I slowly unwrapped my legs from him, though I still kept hold with my arms. “C’mon,” I said as I gently tugged to get him to stand. “I won’t leave you.”

  Brian straightened, swept his gaze around to check on the progress of his people. Apparently he was pleased with their results because he returned his attention to us. “All right, Angel,” he said, still outwardly calm, but I heard a hint of an edge in his voice. “Everyone else is in the van, and we need to go before the police get here.”

  Philip stood, swayed slightly while I kept an arm around his waist. His gaze rested on Brian, and he growled, but subsided when I smacked him on the chest.

  “Behave,” I ordered. “You have to trust me.”

  A tremor shook him, and I bared my teeth up at him. I knew we had to look pretty damn ridiculous. Philip was at least a foot taller and weighed about twice as much as me, but he allowed me to steer him in the direction Brian indicated, though he maintained an audible growl as we moved.

  By the time we reached Brian’s Escalade, Philip’s growl had begun to develop the wet rasp that told me lung tissue was beginning to break down. I got him into the back seat, buckled him in like a kid, then slipped an arm around his waist and draped a leg over his, maintaining as much contact with him as possible. Then I fished another bag of slushy brains out of my pocket and held it for my great big zombie-kid to eat as Brian drove us away from the school.

  I lost my virginity on the football field of East St. Edwards High School, and had been kidnapped from that same place years later. And now I’d just been in the thick of a crazed zombie mob on the Tucker Point High football field. Might be best for everyone if I avoided football in general from now on.

  Chapter 24

  I expected Brian to head to the same lab I’d visited the other day, where I’d seen Kang’s head and met Dr. Nikas, but instead he stopped after about two minutes of driving and pulled up to a loading dock behind an old brick warehouse. It bugged me that the area looked familiar, and it wasn’t until I caught sight of the battered sign by the street that I realized we were on the back end of the building I’d followed Philip to last night, where he’d begged Charish for brains. Damn good thing we’d come here instead of the other lab. I didn’t think Philip could tolerate a long drive, and apparently Brian thought the same.

  Brian parked and came around to open the rear passenger door as I finished stuffing the last of the brains into Philip’s mouth.

  “Let’s go, Philip,” I said. “We’re going inside. We’ll fix you up.”

  He managed a tight nod, pain flashing across his face from even that small movement. I quickly unbuckled him, then helped him out of the SUV with Brian’s assistance. Philip didn’t growl at him, which was damn good since I didn’t know enough about the bite thing to be sure it would work again to calm him down.

  As soon as Philip was somewhat steady Brian backed off and led the way to the back door. It was opened before he reached it by the door security guy from last night, so apparently we were expected.

  “That’s it,” I murmured to the very unsteady Philip, keeping an arm around him. “Almost there.”


  Brian led the way inside and down a short hallway to a small room with lab equipment and a single computer workstation. Two narrow mattresses, obviously dragged in from elsewhere, dominated the floor space.

  I glanced up at Philip’s face as we walked. My gut clenched at the rigor of pain and concentration I saw there. Every movement was agonizing, yet he suffered in silence.

  “Angel,” Brian said, “if you can get him on a mattress, that would be ideal.”

  I gave him a quick nod to acknowledge I’d heard. “Okay, Philip, darlin’,” I said, maneuvering him to the nearest mattress. “I need you to lie down now, and then you can be nice and still, okay?”

  He sank to the mattress, knees buckling at the end and near-collapsing the last foot or so. A wrenching cry of despair that was echoed in his eyes nearly broke my heart. I lay down beside him, keeping as much contact along his side as I could without putting pressure on him that might cause more pain.

  A few seconds later I heard low voices and footsteps from the hallway we’d entered through, and then Heather and Dan appeared, practically carrying Kyle between them. His head lolled but his eyes were open, and he seemed to be trying his damndest to make his legs work well enough to walk. Heather gave me a quick wink, then helped Dan get Kyle settled onto the other mattress.

  “Do you need brains?” Dan asked Kyle, but the other man shook his head in a drunken gesture.

  “Strange,” Kyle slurred. “Not hungry. At all.”

  Dan’s mouth pressed tight. “Not normal tranq, that’s for sure.”

  “The mods did nothing,” Kyle continued, obviously focusing heavily on speaking as clearly as possible, with only partial success. “Knocked me down in seconds.”

  Mods? That must have something to do with why he was surprised the tranq affected him. Some sort of antidote maybe? I turned my head toward them. “I got hit with that stuff the other night,” I said quietly in order to not disturb Philip. “It takes some time to wear off. The non-hunger, that is. Brains’ll be gross for a while.”

  Dan glanced at me. “Good to know.” He looked back to Kyle. “You hear that? Just gotta wait it out.”

  “Got it,” Kyle muttered. His hands and feet kept twitching, and it took me several seconds to realize he was consciously moving his fingers and toes in order to get his motor control back faster. The fact that he was awake but still without full motor control seemed odd to me. I’d been knocked out, yet as soon as I woke I was able to drive and move around with no trouble. Did it have something to do with the mods he’d mentioned? Perhaps he had an adverse reaction?

  Philip tremored beside me, breath hissing between his teeth. I kept a hand on his shoulder while I let my gaze roam around the room, taking it all in. Heather sat beside Kyle’s mattress with a hand on his arm. Dan stood by the wall, arms folded over his chest, watching, and I had the feeling he was primed and ready to respond to anything that came up. The door guard fiddled with a computer that showed the outside surveillance camera feeds, and Rachel checked out the monitor over his shoulder. With the mattresses taking up much of the floor space, the small room was downright crowded.

  A soft intake of breath from the doorway drew my attention. Dr. Kristi Fucking Charish stood there, a look of slight surprise on her face as she registered my presence.

  I felt my lips pull back from my teeth in a snarl of hatred. Pietro had told me he had this bitch under his control, but she looked pretty goddamn uncontrolled to me.

  Slowly, I lifted my hand and gave her the finger. Her face instantly shifted from surprise to practiced coolness. Her gaze went from me to Philip. A flicker of distaste passed over her features, sliding to a smirk of satisfaction as she looked back to me. She held my gaze for several seconds, then turned away and moved out of sight.

  What the hell did that bitch have to look satisfied about? Before I could wonder about it much more, Brian came back in, a frown tugging at his mouth.

  “Dr. Nikas is on his way, and there are too many people in here,” he announced. “Dan, Rachel, wait outside but stay close.”

  The two quickly complied. I gave Brian a puzzled look but held my questions. His gaze flicked to Heather and then to me. I half expected him to ask the two of us to leave, and I tensed for an argument since there was no damn way I was leaving Philip right now. But apparently Brian figured we were doing more good than harm. He moved to me and crouched.

  “Dr. Nikas doesn’t do well in crowds,” he explained in a low voice. His eyes went to Philip, and sympathetic anger flared behind them, then he stood, turned, and went to one knee beside Kyle.

  Heather looked up at Brian, gave Kyle’s arm a little squeeze. “He’s still not able to move much, though it does seem to be wearing off.”

  Brian’s head dipped in a small nod. “We don’t know what was used or how it interacts with Kyle’s mods,” he said, “so it may simply take more time. I can’t see Saberton using anything that would permanently harm a useful zombie.”

  Philip shuddered beside me. “Charish…would…did,” he rasped out, voice thick with pain.

  I looked back to him. “She’s a fucking bitch,” I muttered.

  His nostrils suddenly flared, and he let out a low ominous growl. He shifted, pushing up on his arms, half-twisting to face the open doorway. He knew she was there. Could smell her or something. I felt the fury roiling through him and had no doubt that, despite the pain, he’d rip her to pieces if he could get his hands on her.

  I wrapped my arms around him from behind and sank my teeth into his shoulder again, though there was a nasty part of me that wanted to leave him be and wish him good hunting. Oops, couldn’t control him. Sorry! However, the practical side of me knew I might not be able to bring him back down after he rage-shredded Charish, and I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.

  But Philip wasn’t as easily subdued this time. He managed to push up to his knees while I clung to his back and bit harder. I sensed Brian near and ready to act in case I couldn’t bring Philip under control, but to my relief, after a few seconds, Philip let out a low moan and sank down to lie on his belly.

  “Was fine,” he rasped, breathing harshly. “Was good. Strong after you turned me. She did this…to me.”

  I let out a low growl of understanding, then released the bite and licked at the sluggishly bleeding wound. Still not gross, I thought idly. Too weird. I remained partially atop him—not that my piddling weight would slow him down if he went off again, but the physical contact seemed to keep him a bit calmer, though he still jerked and twitched.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dr. Nikas enter followed by Jacques, the pale tech who’d taken my blood at the other lab. Dr. Nikas paused as he took in the sights, and probably scents and sounds as well. He went to Kyle first, knelt by the mattress and placed a hand in the center of the stricken man’s chest. “How is it?” he asked. “Movement returning?”

  “Slowly,” Kyle replied. “Very slowly.”

  Dr. Nikas gave a small nod. “I suspect they hit you with the new tranq, but if you feel stable, I’m going to go take care of Philip.”

  “I’m stable enough,” Kyle said, to my relief. “Tend to him.”

  Dr. Nikas stood and moved to us, eyes going first to the deep bite marks on Philip’s shoulder as he knelt. I shifted off to Philip’s other side, and Dr. Nikas placed a hand in the center of his back. “Philip, can you hear me?” he asked.

  “I can…hear you, Dr. Nikas,” he gasped out, then squeezed his eyes shut. “Please. End this. Please.” His voice cracked horribly on the last word.

  “I will,” Dr. Nikas replied, calmly and firmly. He met my eyes, and to my relief I saw full confidence that he could help Philip, and that he intended Philip’s death to be an utter last resort. “Let’s get you to your back first,” he told Philip, and with my help we got him turned over on the mattress. Dr. Nikas looked at Jacques and rattled off some instructions that included words like “red-topped stabilizers” and “large bore eye-vee” a
nd “five hundred mill normal saline.”

  Jacques hurried off to comply with the instructions, and Dr. Nikas returned his gaze to me. “Angel, are you willing to stay with Philip for a short time?”

  “Totally,” I said. “But can someone call Marcus and let him and my dad know I’m okay and might be a while?”

  Dr. Nikas glanced at Brian, who gave a nod.

  “I’m on it,” he said, pulling out his phone as he stepped into the hallway to make the call.

  Jacques returned and set up an IV with several bags flowing into the tube thingy in Philip’s arm.

  I frowned. “How do you keep his body from healing up around the IV?”

  Jacques didn’t look up from his adjustments. “Needle and catheter have a camouflaging coating that keeps the parasite from reacting to it. Dr. Nikas’s development.” He stuck three patches on Philip’s chest and switched on the heart monitor, then stood and retreated to the computer workstation.

  Dr. Nikas filled a syringe from a vial and injected it into the saline bag. “Philip, as soon as this bag finishes, I’m going to set up a drip of a new formulation. It’ll take a couple of hours, but let me know immediately if it makes anything worse.”

  “Yes, sir,” Philip murmured, eyes already drifting closed. “Thank you.” He already seemed to be better, and I had to hope it wasn’t simply my wishful thinking.

  Dr. Nikas stood and returned to Kyle. Carefully, he picked up the container holding the dart that had struck him. “Excellent, Kyle,” he said. “This will give us a cleaner sample to analyze and hopefully a better idea of how this tranquilizer operates.”