White Trash Zombie Unchained

by Diana Rowland

  It sure was nice having friends who could Get Shit Done.

  On Tuesday, I borrowed a black dress from Naomi and attended Connor’s funeral. Since he’d died in the line of duty, the attendance was massive, with every law enforcement agency in the parish in attendance. I even spied Special Agent Gallagher in the back, but had no desire to go over and strike up a conversation.

  But I did give my condolences personally to Connor’s mother. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I murmured then silently added I avenged your son’s death and killed his murderer.

  With Justine’s help, I finished my essay in English comp about the worst birthday ever, and didn’t pull any punches. The professor loved it and would have given me an A except for the fact that I had a tendency to put commas in all the wrong places, and so I ended up with a B+.

  As far as biology went, I asked Isabella Romero—the student who Professor Dingle had given such a hard time—if she wanted to be study partners. And when she had trouble finding a babysitter for her young son, my dad was happy to help out.

  Kyle’s body was cremated, as per his wishes, and we had a private ceremony for him at the lab. Everyone spoke and did their public grieving, then we broke out some of Dr. Nikas’s zombie booze concoction—again, as per Kyle’s wishes—and had a rollicking wake for a proper sendoff.

  Bear, Nick, Allen, and my dad were there as well, because even though they hadn’t known Kyle in life, they were grateful for everything he’d done for all of us. And Marla and Moose wandered around in doggie heaven, getting the pets and scritches they so very much deserved.

  The party was just winding down when Pierce called me over. “Jane texted that Andrew Saber is holding a press conference in five minutes. Meet up in the media room.”

  Soon enough, Pierce, Dr. Nikas, Brian, and I were clustered around the TV. Andrew stood before a throng of reporters in the lobby of Saberton’s New York headquarters. Appearing vibrant and confident, he announced that his mother had stepped down and that he was now CEO of Saberton.

  I snorted. “Stepped down, my ass. More like shoved kicking and screaming, I bet. Good riddance.”

  Andrew went on to praise Dr. Kristi Charish for her stellar work to unlock the cure for the LZ-1 epidemic. He then revealed that, tragically, Dr. Charish had suffered a mild stroke immediately after casting her vote in the Saberton board meeting and would be taking a sabbatical from research. But the silver lining was that she would be at his side to help lead Saberton in a new, humanitarian and eco-friendly direction. He closed with a sappy promise of a brighter tomorrow, thanked the reporters for coming, and left without answering the shouted questions.

  “Hot damn!” I said as Pierce muted the TV. “That was a brilliant move since Kang-Kristi doesn’t know squat about research.”

  Pierce looked thoughtful. “Kang has well and truly ensconced himself in the Saberton hierarchy.”

  I poked him in the chest. “That’s right, and you and Kang are going to put your centuries of differences behind you and work together to create a brighter tomorrow for all zombies. Right?”

  He surprised me with a genuine laugh. “What do you say, Ari?”

  Dr. Nikas smiled. “I say that we are in a golden moment of opportunity. And if you fuck it up, I will have your head in a vat until you come to your senses.” That produced a round of laughter from everyone, including Pierce. But as it died away, Dr. Nikas sobered. “With Kang only masquerading as a scientist, the burden of research rests on my shoulders. I need more help.”

  “The Tribe accountant was looking into the possibility of finding a dying neurobiologist or the like who might be willing to be turned,” I pointed out. “And you already have Portia.”

  “Both with excellent potential.” He blew out a breath, and his shoulders relaxed. “There’s no rush. We’re in this for the very long haul.”

  We. Not just Dr. Nikas or Pierce or Brian. It included me as well. I had a potentially very long life ahead, and damn it, I really liked the idea of spending at least some of it helping the Tribe—my people—bring about an honest-to-goodness better tomorrow.

  A gasp came from the direction of the door. Naomi stared at the TV where Andrew waved to the press as he entered an elevator and the words Saberton CEO Nicole Saber steps down ran along bottom. She burst into un-Naomi-like tears. I ran over to pull her into a hug. She’d been worried about her twin for weeks, and now not only was Andrew safe, but he was being the kind of man she’d always wanted him to be.

  Dr. Nikas herded Pierce and Brian out while I guided Naomi to the nearest sofa.

  I plopped down beside her and took her hand. “Your mother has been removed from power, and you’ll be able to see Andrew again soon. He’ll make sure of it.”

  She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “It’s like waking up from a nightmare. I’m not sure if it’s real or not.”

  “Aww. It’s for real, babe.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “The bad shit is behind you, and your brother is ready to mend fences.”

  “Everything’s falling into place for the zombies, too.” She stole a glance at me. “You know what we need since we’re at the beginning of a whole new era?” A sly smile tugged at her mouth.

  “Chocolate?”

  “Ice cream, silly!” she said then widened her eyes.

  Together we shouted, “Chocolate ice cream!”

  We raced to the lab’s kitchen and spent the next half hour eating chocolate fudge ice cream, talking, and laughing. It felt gooooood.

  Once we’d stuffed ourselves sick, she gave me a hug and left for her security shift. I wiped ice cream off my chin then made my way to the Head Room to change out the nutrient goo.

  Humming, I put in my code, pulled the door open, and stepped in.

  Dr. Nikas loomed in the semi-darkness beside the empty regrowth tank, one hand gripping his temples between fingers and thumb as if he had a headache.

  I started to ease out of the room.

  “Angel,” he said. “Stay.”

  I slowly closed the door behind me. “Is something wrong?”

  He lowered his hand. “Take a look in Adam Campbell’s vat.”

  I peered through the glass lid into the crockpot of nutrient snot and its resident head. All seemed normal in a grey-skinned, severed head, horror show sort of way. “I don’t—” Then I saw it: a little bud about the size of a jellybean sprouting from the neck stump. Just like with Kang’s head. “He’s regrowing! What changed?”

  “Everything.” Dr. Nikas put his arm around my shoulders and gazed down into the vat with me. “I spent this past week reviewing what we recovered, and what I stole, of Kristi’s immortality work. She wasn’t as close to a solution as she’d believed, but the direction of her research sparked a fresh line of thought, and I tested a new nutrient formulation on Adam. I discovered the progress only moments before you walked in.”

  “That’s awesome!” I paused. “It is awesome, right? I mean, when I walked in you looked upset.”

  “Upset, no. I was a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of the implications.” He gave my shoulders a squeeze and stepped away from the vat. “This discovery opens untried research paths. The way isn’t clear yet, but I see the potential, the end result. Not with development of a brain substitute—which I have determined would never healthily maintain the parasite—but a way to quasi-mature zombies so the amount of brains required for sustenance would be greatly reduced.”

  My smile grew. “Like how you and Pierce and Kang need a lot less brains. That’s brilliant.”

  “Research and development will likely take years, but I am certain it can be achieved.” He shook his head. “I wonder how Dr. Charish would feel if she knew her legacy was not immortality for herself, but the trigger for a long-term lifeline for zombies.”

  “She would hate it from the very depths of her cold, black, shriveled heart.”

  “W
hat a tragedy.” He sighed. “If she had been open and honest with her findings rather than the cruel egoist she was, such marvels we could have accomplished.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the real foundation of all this. You just need people around to spark your genius and keep you on your toes.”

  He gave me a warm smile. “Like you.”

  “Me?” I laughed. “I won’t argue with the keeping you on your toes part, but I’m not much of an intellectual spark.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Angel. You grasp concepts readily and often see solutions others may not.”

  I blinked. “I do?”

  “Look at all you have accomplished over the past year and a half, the scrapes you’ve wriggled out of, the clever ideas you’ve put forth. You even keep Pierce honest, and that is no mean feat.”

  I squirmed, blushing. “I guess I’m a survivor.”

  “That you are. A survivor with intellect you don’t yet appreciate. You proposed that the mosquito bites weren’t really mosquito bites. You uncovered the link between the water bottles and shamblers turning. And remember how you said you thought the combat mod might have stimulated the anesthetized parasite in Kyle? I tested the process as part of my inquiry into Kristi’s work, and you were right. You didn’t know the specifics of how it would function, but you came to a solid conclusion worthy of a hypothesis.”

  I blushed more.

  He regarded me, eyes deep and ancient and wise. “What do you want to do with your life? If you could have your heart’s desire.”

  I started to blurt out a line about having peace and quiet, enough money to live on and keep my dad safe, a home. But that wasn’t what he meant. He wanted to know my impossible, secret dream. Tears pricked my eyes. “I like my work at the morgue, and I love biology, and I love working here with you, but I wish it could be more—wish I could be more.”

  “In what way?” he asked quietly.

  “Educated, so I could really help. Not just some classes in community college, but—” My old loser self tried to tell me I was making a fool of myself, that Dr. Nikas didn’t care about my stupid fantasy. But I knew better. I wasn’t being a fool, and Dr. Nikas cared for real. “I’d like to be a neurobiologist. I know it’s kinda crazy. I just—”

  “Angel, there is no reason to not live your dream.”

  “I’m just so far behind. I have the stubbornness to stick it out, but I’m already twenty-three and haven’t even finished one college course.”

  He laughed, genuine and heartening. “Time is on your side, Angel. The Tribe will back you, and lord knows I will need help for many decades to come.”

  I laughed with him. Of course time was on my side. I was a zombie. I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you for believing in me. No, not just that. For helping me believe in myself.”

  “You are one of a kind, Angel,” he said, smiling as I released him.

  My phone alarm beeped. “Oh, shit! I have to get to the morgue, but I haven’t changed the gel in the head vats yet.”

  “Go. Reg will take care of it.”

  “He’ll lovvvvve me for that,” I muttered then brightened. “Ooo! Dr. Nikas. What do you think about getting Reg a cat? He was joking about it the other day, but I don’t think it was really a joke. He could keep it in the living area and media room and stuff. It wouldn’t be a bother in the lab. I could go to the shelter and find one that would be perfect for him. A surprise, y’know? But if you don’t think it would be good idea, I understand.”

  His eyes brightened. “It is a splendid idea, Angel. Now, get yourself to work.”

  Beaming, I scurried out, mind whirling with the conversation. And the possibilities.

  Me. A neurobiologist. Dr. Crawford! Now, wouldn’t that be something?

  • • •

  Life continued to settle into a more normal routine. Andrew called Naomi, and they talked for close to an hour. Afterward, Naomi let us know that Kristi had been working on her own with regards to the LZ-1 epidemic, though using Saberton personnel and resources. She added that Andrew was already cleaning house of anyone who’d been involved in the nastier side of Saberton research and operations.

  People continued to die in a variety of ways, both tragic and stupid, and made their way into the morgue. And I continued to judiciously harvest brains.

  I had brains in my belly, and all was right with the world.

  The FBI opened an investigation into Nicole Saber and her suspected ties to racketeering, fraud, kidnapping, and murder. Naomi and I celebrated with more ice cream.

  Allen seemed pleased that Nick and I had finally progressed to dating. “I saw this coming when you first started working here,” he said, smug.

  And when Derrel happened to catch us stealing a quick kiss in the morgue parking lot, he gave me a bone-squishing hug and declared, “I told you it would all work out!”

  • • •

  A week after Kyle’s funeral, I jerked awake to heavy pounding at the door. A bleary look at the clock told me it was 8 a.m. Ugh.

  Grumbling, I tugged on a robe then shuffled out and opened the door. Nick stood on the porch with a backpack over one shoulder and a small cardboard box in his hands.

  “Good morning, Angel,” he said, far too cheerfully. “There was a package for your dad on the porch. You look especially perky this morning!”

  I gave him a middle finger and then a kiss. “I got called out at 2 a.m. to scrape a motorcyclist off the highway.”

  Nick set the package on the table and gave me a more thorough kiss. “Then it’s a good thing I stopped by Lagniappe Café and picked up beignets.”

  “Ooooo. Gimme!”

  Grinning, Nick fished a large white paper bag from his backpack and handed it over.

  “Oh man, they’re still warm.” I grabbed a plate from the kitchen then poured the beignets out, getting powdered sugar everywhere and not caring. This was how beignets were meant to be eaten—warm and covered with a shitload of powdered sugar.

  “Fank oo,” I managed around a mouthful of pastry.

  “And once you’re done, we can look through these.” He pulled a stack of brochures and pamphlets from the backpack and set them on the table—away from the sugar. “College catalogs. TPCC is fine for getting your basics, but you’re going to need doctorate-level education for the sort of research you want to do. That means, after a couple of years, you should attend a university with a strong undergrad biology program.”

  “Have I told you lately that you’re the best?”

  He chuckled and started to make coffee. “I think the kiss at the door covered that.”

  I licked my fingers and poked through the stack. “These are from all around the country.” I looked over at him. “The thought of living somewhere else feels so weird. I’ve lived here my entire life. I know this place.”

  “I get it. Same boat for me.” Nick started the coffeemaker then returned and fished a pamphlet from the stack. “That’s in Florida. Excellent biology program, and it just so happens to be where I was accepted to med school.”

  I smiled up at him. “You decided to go for forensic pathology?”

  “You helped me crystallize my goals.” He kissed me. “Two more years as a death investigator, then I’ll be ready.”

  “Watch out, Florida. Here we come!” I grinned then sobered. “Still, the thought of moving away is more than a little terrifying.”

  Nick bent down and kissed me. “You’ve faced down armed mercenaries and evil scientists. You jumped off a three-story building on purpose. I think you can handle this.”

  “Sheesh. All right. But you’d better help me study for the college entrance exams.”

  “You know it.”

  My dad’s bedroom door opened, forestalling another round of kissing. As he shuffled into the kitchen, he gave Nick a bleary squint.

  “Mornin
,’ Nick. Didja spend the night here?”

  “No, sir. I brought beignets for you and Angel. Oh, and I brought in a package for you.”

  “No shit?” He peered at the label then ripped it open. “Hot damn! Andrew done sent me the Swords and Swagger sequel!”

  I checked the package. Yes, definitely addressed to my dad. “I’m not sure Andrew will have as much time to play, being the CEO and all.”

  “Nah. That boy needs stress relief now more than ever.” He headed to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. “It’s such a purty morning, I think I’ll have my coffee outside. Give y’all a bit of privacy.” He winked at me then headed out to the back porch.

  A mug smashed outside. “Jesus fuck!” my dad yelled.

  I shot to my feet as he raced back inside. “Angel!” He gasped. “You got some visitors.”

  “Huh?” I ran outside then stopped dead at the sight of Biggie and Tupac happily sunning themselves in my back yard.

  “Holy crap,” Nick breathed. “They came all the way here? That has to be twenty or thirty miles!”

  “Cole Bayou is at the back of this property,” I said, dashing tears of laughter away. “I guess they made their way through the swamp and down a series of waterways to get here.”

  “That . . . is weirdly adorable.” He pulled me close. “Angel Crawford, I love you. And I even love your very weird pets.”

  “I love you, Nick Galatas. And I promise they’ll be outside pets only. Imagine the litter box!”

  We kissed and the gators bellowed their approval.

  Maybe believing in a better tomorrow wasn’t so sappy after all.

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