White Trash Zombie Unchained

by Diana Rowland

  “Hang on,” I said. “You didn’t think there was something completely wrong when a dead man with most of his skull missing got up and walked off?”

  Rosario gave me a shrug. “Honestly? My first thought was, ‘Oh, I guess he was a zombie this whole time.’ I didn’t really know a lot about zombies back then. Judd seemed like he was going after you, but he was moving pretty slow, and you had a good head start.” His mouth quirked. “And, you weren’t exactly my favorite person at that moment. And then after I crashed the four-wheeler, I was on so many pain meds I didn’t know what was real!”

  Laughs and shudders swept the room.

  “Is Dante telling his I-got-shot-in-the-ass story again?” Rachel said from behind me, voice weary but touched with humor. She stepped past me, though not before giving me what sure felt like a comforting pat on the shoulder.

  She went over to sit beside Rosario, closer than casual friends would sit. Or even close friends. And the look they exchanged said quite clearly they’d be banging buddies if not for Rosario’s injury.

  “They were riveted by my tale,” Rosario told Rachel with a grin. “Until Angel re-created her war cry.”

  “Oh, that’s what the sound was!” Rachel smiled at me, and not in a mean way. “I thought Dante was whining again about having his bandages changed.”

  Of course everyone thought that was hysterical, myself included. Rachel launched into an amusing story of her own, regarding Brian and a loose cow. She was getting to the good part with the emu when I felt a touch on my arm. Marcus.

  He did a little head tilt to indicate he needed to talk to me. About Nick, most likely. I left the media room and followed him a short distance to an unoccupied office.

  He remained silent until he’d closed the door then asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Physically, yes,” I said. His expression was unreadable. “Are you . . . mad?”

  He sat on a corner of the desk and folded his arms. “You said you were following a solid hunch, but I don’t understand why you went out there on your own. We’re slammed, but I could have sent someone to be your back up. I expected better judgment from you.”

  My mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds before I could form actual words. “Better judgment? I didn’t plan to fall onto a rusted car door and break my leg! Maybe someday you can tell me what it’s like to have everything in your life go exactly according to plan, where nothing unexpected happens, and nothing ever goes wrong.”

  “Angel, I—”

  “No!” I stabbed a finger into his sternum. “You listen to me, Captain Controlling. It wasn’t just a hunch. It was a goddamn lead, a good one that I dug up and followed. And I even found something! But hey, I guess I should check with you and the Tribe every time there’s a possible decision to be made, because obviously I’m too stupid to think for myself, and I need someone to hold my fucking hand!”

  “Fuck.” Marcus stood and seized my arms, jaw tight. “Angel, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “But you think I have poor judgment,” I shot back, voice quavering. That one stung, because I knew all about stupid, shitty choices. I’d made a whole lot of them in my day, but thought I was past all that.

  Marcus sighed and squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, because it isn’t true at all. You’re right. You pursued a hunch that turned into a solid lead, just like any good cop would do. And you had every reason to believe this would be a simple in-and-out operation.”

  I eyed him. “And?”

  “And . . . I don’t expect you to check with the Tribe every time you make a move, because you’re competent and careful.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  His mouth twitched in a wry smile. “I hope you realize how hard it is for me to say that.”

  “I’m actually surprised your head didn’t explode.” Our dating relationship had been chock full of his well-intentioned controlling behavior.

  Marcus winced. “I deserved that.”

  “Nah, you’ve redeemed yourself about a million times over by putting up with this Tribe shit.” I took a deep breath. “And now that we have all the other stuff sorted out, I admit it would have been a smart move to at least let Brian know where I was going in case shit went south. As it was, no one knew.”

  He inclined his head. “No argument from me on that. Apart from my being a controlling prick, it’s not about asking permission—it’s about keeping the team in the loop. And you are a valued member of the team.”

  “Y’all have my back as much as I have yours.” The old loser me would have labeled checking in as control. I knew better, but it felt as if it was only now fully sinking in. “It’s cool. Next time I have a premeditated bit of criminal activity in mind, I’ll give Brian a heads up.”

  Marcus smiled. “Good deal. So, what was the lead that took you to Big Bubba’s, and what did you find?”

  I gave him the rundown about Reno and the car chase, my talk with Ben Roth, and Agent Aberdeen’s involvement. “This was in the CD tray,” I said, handing him the Double Dime Diner punch card. “But I have no idea what the letters and numbers could mean.”

  Marcus frowned at the card. “I got nothing,” he said after a moment. “Sorry.”

  “No worries. Might not even be related to our current drama.” I took the card back. “Now I have an unrelated personal question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Whaaaaat is the deal with Rachel and Rosario? You and Rachel were an item, and then you weren’t, and now she and Rosario are making goo-goo eyes at each other. Also, Rachel was actually nice to me, which is beyond comprehension. Am I in a coma and having a totally unrealistic dream?”

  “Rachel has had a change of heart about you,” he said, shrugging as if that explained everything.

  “Yeah, that’s the creepy part,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Why? She’s always hated my guts, convinced I’m going to blow up the Tribe or worse.”

  “Only a few people know the whole truth about why you had to be regrown,” Marcus said. “The story that was circulated was somewhat vague, but the gist was that you suffered severe unexpected side-effects from a mod you used during the rescue in New York.” A smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “Which is true.”

  “But hardly the whole truth,” I pointed out. V12 was, indeed, the mod I’d legitimately used in New York. But the whole addiction thing afterward was my own damn fault, leading to my dramatic disintegration on Mardi Gras.

  “And as for why the side-effects progressed to the point of deterioration,” Marcus continued, “it was leaked that you took a larger than usual dose in order to save the Tribe from exposure. Which is also true.”

  “Whatever. And she bought that?”

  “Somewhat. Rachel can be a real sucker for selfless acts of valor, but she wasn’t really sold until Dr. Nikas had a talk with her.” He shrugged. “I don’t know the details of what he said, but I gather he gave her a bit of a scolding—gentle, but no less scathing—and suggested she reconsider her outlook and her opinion of your worth and loyalty.”

  “Oh man, a scolding from Dr. Nikas is the worst because he’s so darn nice.” Tears pricked my eyes just thinking about it. I’d been on the receiving end of a scolding or two from him. “So . . . why did you and Rachel break up?” I asked, totally casual-like. “I mean, y’know, not to pry or anything. Really.”

  His eyes crinkled in humor. “Right. Not prying at all. It was mutual and amicable.” He paused. “Okay, I was the one who broke it off, but she was totally cool and mature about it. It felt a bit odd to be so new in this position and already dating an employee. Especially with the age difference. Plus, I felt like I needed to pay more attention to my work here.” A wince flashed across his face.

  His “work” here was a sore subject, and now wasn’t the time to prod it. “Age difference?” I said. “How old
is she?” Rachel looked like she was in her twenties, but that didn’t mean a whole lot when it came to zombies.

  “About seventy years old,” he said. “She was an army nurse during the Vietnam war. One day she was in a medivac chopper with two wounded men and a third soldier. The chopper got shot down, and Rachel was hurt pretty badly. So was the soldier. But then—”

  “Ooh! This is Pierce, right? No, wait. He was Francis back then.”

  He gave me a sour look. “You’re ruining my story.”

  “It’s a little predictable,” I said. “The soldier was Francis-Pietro-Pierce, and he turned Rachel, and she’s been with him ever since.”

  Marcus heaved a sigh. “You’re leaving out all the tension, and the horror when she sees him eat the brains of the dead pilot. But yes, he turned her yadda yadda.”

  “Wait a sec. I thought Rachel hated Kyle because, back when he was a Saberton operative, he killed her father? How is that possible if she’s seventy-something years old? Did Kyle take out a ninety-year-old dude? He’s only been a zombie for a few years, so it’s not like he was working ops half a century ago.”

  “She hates him. That’s for sure.” He sobered. “But the man Kyle killed was actually Rachel’s son, who was nine years old when her unit was deployed to Vietnam—and in his fifties when he died.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have your kid die—no matter how old they are. I guess I should get over my own dislike of her.”

  “I think you’d like her, Angel,” Marcus said. “And I’m not just saying that. She’s a survivor. Like you.”

  The unexpected compliment warmed me all the way through. “Thanks.”

  “Speaking of surviving, I know you probably want to stay here with Nick, but I think you should go to NuQuesCor when we swap out security people.”

  I started to protest then sighed. “You’re right. The best thing I can do is help Dr. Nikas.”

  He chuckled. “That was easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t even have to point out that you’d get to ride in the helicopter.”

  “Ooooooooooooooooooo!”

  “Be out back in”—he checked his watch—“half an hour.”

  “Will do!”

  “Oh, and you might want to consider a change of clothes first. Maybe even a shower?”

  I looked down at my raggedy crop-top shirt and bloody, ripped pants. “You make good sense.”

  “I do try.”

  Chapter 32

  I took a super-quick shower to wash off blood and muck then changed into my last pair of clean jeans and a borrowed scrub top. Reno’s Double Dime Diner punch card—with the mystery letters and numbers—went into my jeans pocket, and the ruined fatigue pants got tossed into the trash.

  My phone rang as I was shoving my toothbrush into its travel case. My house landline, which meant it was Kang. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

  “Just had a visitor.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Like, a knock-on-the-door kind of visitor? It’s not even six a.m.”

  “Exactly like that,” he said. “An FBI agent who wanted to talk to both you and your dad.”

  Fuck. “Lemme guess. Special Agent Sorsha Aberdeen?”

  “That’s her. She flashed her ID when I opened the door.”

  Double fuck. “What did you tell her?”

  “That you weren’t here, and I hadn’t seen you since last night, and that, as far as I knew, your dad was out of town.”

  Fuckety fuck fuck fuckshitfuck. “Did she tell you what she wanted to talk to us about?”

  “Nope. Didn’t leave her card, either.”

  She wanted to see me in person, not just have a phone chat. And what the hell did she want with my dad? “Did she ask who you were?”

  “Uh huh. I told her I was Seojun Kang. Your house guest. Seojun is also the father of John Kang, but I didn’t need to tell her that part.”

  “Jesus, what if she’d asked for ID?”

  “She didn’t. But I got it covered. Chill.”

  Chill? Ha! But then I reminded myself that Kang had been around for a couple thousand years and surely learned a thing or two about survival. “Okay. Sorry. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Anytime. I owe you.” He hung up.

  The phone call reminded me that I hadn’t told Allen about Nick. I sent a quick text.

 

  His answer came back seconds later.

  I shoved the phone into my pocket then returned to Nick’s room. My zombie baby Philip stood on duty outside the open door.

  “Hey, ZeeBee,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Shambler watch,” he replied. “Just in case.”

  Bear’s whole group had turned, which meant there was still a chance he would, too. “Yeah.” I sighed. “Best to play it safe.”

  “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” Philip said quietly. “I know Nick is special to you.”

  “He is.” I blinked back tears. “Thanks.”

  “Any time, ZeeEm.”

  I gave him an affectionate punch in the bicep then stepped into the room.

  Bear sat by the bed in a comfy chair that someone must have brought in for him. Nick thrashed and growled in the restraints.

  “Any change?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Nick hadn’t miraculously recovered since I was last in here.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes, expression bleak. “Sometimes I think he recognizes me. Probably wishful thinking.”

  I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m about to leave for NuQuesCor. I can be more useful there, helping Dr. Nikas work on a cure for this shit, and I want to be close by in case they need more samples from me. I hope you aren’t mad I’m going.”

  He covered my hand with his. “I know you’re as gutted by this as anyone, and you won’t stop till you dig up the answers. I don’t think Nick will—”

  “Annnnngelllll.” Nick rolled his head toward me. “Annnnngelllll.”

  “He knows you!” Bear leaped to his feet. “Nick! We’re right here.”

  I touched Nick’s restrained arm. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Nick shuddered and moaned, burbly and wet. “Annngelll . . .”

  I brushed my fingers over his cheek, braced for him to snap at them. But instead, he went still, milky eyes on me. He breathed out a long sigh. “Annngelll.”

  “Look at you pining for me,” I said, throat tight. “I’m going to tease you about this later, once you’re back to yourself.” I reluctantly withdrew.

  Nick jerked against the restraints again and howled. The sound tore at my heart.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I told Bear, struggling to keep my voice even.

  “You can’t go now.” His eyes held desperate hope. “Look how calm he was with you.”

  “I don’t want to go. But I have to.” I nodded toward Nick. “For him. For a cure.” The thought of leaving Nick like this punched holes through my gut, but I couldn’t stay here when I could be trying to save him.

  Bear sat heavily and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Make sure you eat, please?”

  “Will do,” he said, though I wasn’t convinced. “Take care of yourself, Angel. You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  After a final heart-wrenching look at Nick, I returned to the media room and found Portia, Jane, Victor, and my dad still there.

  “Y’all need to go back to bed,” I said with asperity.

  “I have too much on my mind to sleep,” Jane said. “Besides, I have work to do. My constituency is in an uproar.”

  “I don’t think I could sleep either,” Portia
added. “And I’m used to early hours.”

  “Well, I ain’t,” my dad said, pushing to his feet. “It’s past my bedtime.”

  “I’m about to head over to NuQuesCor with the fresh security team to help Dr. Nikas,” I told him.

  “You do that,” he said. “But you be sure to wake me if you need anything.”

  “I will.” I kissed his cheek before he toddled off to wherever he was sleeping.

  “Angel,” Portia said. “Do you think it would be possible for me to go with you? I have extensive lab experience, and though it’s not my field of study, I’m sure I can be of use.”

  Hell, she’d be useful for making Dr. Nikas happy, if nothing else. “Let me check with Marcus, but I’m all for it.” His office was only a corridor away, but I saw no need to expend that much energy.

  I texted.

  he replied, and I could almost hear him roll his eyes.

  “Marcus says yes,” I told Portia. “If you need to take anything with you, grab it. We leave in about five minutes.”

  “Be right back,” she said and strode quickly off.

  I glanced at Jane. “Could you make sure Bear eats?” I asked. “He’s pretty stressed, and I have a feeling he’ll forget.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “That was never in doubt,” I said, smiling. “How’s it going with your district?”

  She winced. “There’s a lot of fear. Marcus has set up a camera and microphone in the conference room so I can make a statement, then I’m being interviewed by Brennan Masters for the news.” Her forehead puckered.

  “You don’t look too happy about it.”

  “I’m not.” She met my eyes. “I represent those people. Why am I holed up in here while they’re vulnerable? Because I have connections? It doesn’t sit right with me, but Marcus and the security chief are adamant.”

  The security chief was Pierce Gentry. Of course he’d be adamant about protecting Jane. “None of us want to see you hurt,” I said. “Besides, you need to keep yourself safe so you’re around for your people and . . .” I stopped. Made a face. “And nothing. You’re right. I’d pitch a fit if I was forced to stay in lockdown when I wanted—needed—to be out doing something, especially for people I care about. Who are we to tell you where to be?”