I was calling the zombie a him, not an it; that was not a good sign. All the flesh eaters I'd seen had been truly walking corpses and hadn't looked alive at all, but there was always a first for everything. I did not want the very first gentleman flesh eater. I really didn't.
I made the mistake of telling the truth when Nathaniel asked why I was running out with my whole kit over my shoulder. Everyone insisted I take guards as backup, just in case. I didn't have time to argue, so Nicky and Domino were with me as I hit the stairs. Nicky had called ahead so that bigger guns were waiting for them in the storage room up top. Again, I didn't argue, because if the worst happened we were running out of time, and we'd need the firepower.
Why not call other police to meet us there? Because maybe I'd just raised a zombie so alive that he could eat a meal and talk about his adventure, and the only thing scary about him was that he was too human. I preferred that to him turning into a ravaging cannibalistic killing machine, but him being that alive scared the hell out of me, too. It was just a different kind of scared.
Nicky asked to carry my vampire-hunting kit. "You'll be faster on the stairs without it."
Normally I would have argued and carried my own damn equipment, but since it weighed almost as much as I did, I gave it to Nicky. He threw it over his shoulder. I started running up the stairs, and then the men were up with me, and the three of us fucking ran.
27
I CALLED MANNY from the car, and he was waiting for us outside work. He wasn't much taller than me, a slender, dark figure with salt-and-pepper hair standing under the streetlight. It highlighted him like a spotlight, ruining his night vision and making him a great target if anyone was aiming for him. He'd been my teacher in the early days of vampire hunting, but he'd never really stopped being a stake-and-hammer man, and that was only good for daytime vamps dead in their coffins, or morgue kills where the vamps were chained down with holy items. Outside those two instances I preferred shotguns or assault rifles, though handguns would do in a pinch.
There were cars having issues with parking, or not parking, in front of us, so we got to wait while we looked at Manny. I didn't think he'd seen us yet. He was talking on his phone.
"This is the guy who taught you how to hunt vampires?" Domino asked from the backseat.
"Yeah."
"He taught you how to raise the dead," Nicky said from beside me. "Edward taught you how to hunt vampires."
"Actually, the second part was a learn-as-you-go program," I said. "If I hadn't been good enough to bother with when Edward met me, he'd have just killed me."
"Edward is like one of your best friends," Domino said.
"We weren't always friends."
"Why didn't he kill you then?" Nicky asked.
"I was useful, and he saw some of himself in me, I think."
The people who couldn't drive in front of us finally managed to have one car pull out and leave, so the other could park. Manny finally saw us, waving and giving a bright smile.
"He needs glasses," Nicky said.
"How do you know?"
"He's squinting a little, and he didn't see your car sooner, so his night vision is going."
"You think that's why he's standing in the light?" Domino asked.
"Maybe; tell him to get his eyes checked," Nicky said.
"I didn't know you cared about Manny," I said, as I pulled up to the curb.
"I don't, but you do," Nicky said, opening the door so Manny could ride shotgun. "If he has a car accident or gets himself killed on the job because he's too vain to get his eyes checked"--he got out, poking his head back in to finish what he was saying--"it would make you unhappy, and I want you happy." He held the door for Manny, then moved to the backseat to sit with Domino.
I waited for Manny to buckle up, then introduced him to Domino as I hit the gas. I tried to see the man beside me not as my mentor and teacher, but like Nicky and Domino were seeing him. I'd seen him weekly for years and hadn't noticed the eye issue, but now that they'd pointed it out I wondered how I'd missed it.
"What's wrong?" Manny asked; he knew me, too.
I shook my head. "When's the last time you had your eyes checked?"
"Why?"
"You didn't see us until we pulled into the light, but we were sitting there for a while waiting for the idiots to finish arguing over the parking space."
"I was talking to Tomas; he's got girl trouble and wanted his papa's advice." He grinned when he said it, and I knew he didn't want to talk about his eyes anymore.
"How old is Tomas now?"
"Thirteen."
"A little young for girl trouble, isn't he?"
Manny grinned again. "He is precocious."
I smiled and shook my head. "You mean he's cutting a swath through the little girls the way you did before you met Rosita."
He shrugged but looked pleased. I let it go for now, and just hit the lights and sirens; one problem at a time, or you get overwhelmed. I drove fast and had to keep slamming on my brakes, because St. Louis drivers were slow to get out of the way. I'd had out-of-town marshals complain about it, so it wasn't just me.
"Jesus, people," I said, as I sat behind a line of cars waiting for them to creep to the side of the road.
"The zombie is still at Denny's," Manny said.
"Yeah, but is he just eating dessert or the waitress?"
"How likely is it that he's really turned flesh eater?" Nicky asked.
"Not likely, but since we aren't entirely sure what makes a zombie turn flesh eater, forgive me if I worry."
"I'm not saying don't worry, or don't hurry, just trying to get a feel for what I don't understand."
I slammed on the brakes as a truck tried to get out of the way of the lights and sirens by pulling out directly in front of me. "Idiot!"
"You drive, I'll talk," Manny said, and glanced back at Nicky as he started to tell everything we knew about flesh-eating zombies, which wasn't actually very much. "The most common cause of a zombie turning flesh eater is a murder victim called from the grave."
"I know murder vics rise with only one purpose, to kill their murderer; that's why police can't just raise the dead and ask who killed them."
"You've been asking questions," Manny said.
"It's the only way to figure stuff out if I can't do it myself, and I can't raise the dead."
"I like this one," Manny said to me. He got a death grip on the oh-shit handle, but his voice never wavered as I careened around yet another car that wasn't getting out of the way.
"Me, too," I said, and then went back to concentrating the hell out of driving.
"Thanks," Nicky said automatically, but I knew his face would match the tone; he said thanks because he was supposed to, not because it mattered to him. "But are you saying that murder victims attack and eat people, or eat their murderer?"
"Most of the time, no," Manny said. "They just rise willing to hurt or kill anyone who gets between them and their murderer. Until they get their vengeance, they don't obey the animator who raised them, or any other magic, but if they can't find their killer right away sometimes they turn to flesh eating."
I roared through a red light, flinching, hoping the cars all obeyed my lights and not the traffic ones. We got through safely, but it always freaked me out to run a red light. "It's like they wake up more the longer they're out of the grave, and if they start to eat flesh they don't rot as quickly," I said, risking a glance in the rearview mirror, so I could see Nicky's serious face.
"So do all murder vics who don't get their killers turn flesh eater?"
"No," Manny said.
"This zombie isn't a murder victim, though, right?" Domino said.
"No, I made certain of that. He died in his bed of disease, not in battle."
"Do soldiers count themselves as murder vics?" Nicky asked.
"I've known it to happen," Manny said, "but usually not."
"Manny taught me to be uber-cautious about shit like that, though."
"The most common flesh eater is a zombie that was an animator, witch, or voodoo priest in life," Manny said.
"Like you and Anita," Nicky said.
"Yes," Manny said, "which is why we both have legal papers in place to be beheaded and cremated upon death."
"Scary stuff," Domino said.
I slowed down and turned off the sirens. We were close enough to the restaurant that I didn't want to spook the zombie. He was far too aware for comfort.
"So this zombie isn't a murder vic, or a witch, or anything, so why is Anita so worried he'll start eating people?" Domino asked.
"Because zombies don't eat anything. They don't need to eat, because they're dead, and there's no reason to put fuel in something that isn't burning fuel anymore," Manny said.
I said, "Any time a zombie has ever said it's hungry, to me it's hungry for the flesh of the living. I've never, ever heard of one wanting to go out for a nice breakfast of sausage and eggs."
"So you're afraid when he finishes his food, it won't satisfy him and he'll turn on the people in the restaurant," Nicky said.
"Yes." I turned off the swirling lights on my SUV as I spotted the big yellow Denny's sign.
"Exactly," Manny said.
"So neither of you has ever heard of a zombie eating anything but people?" Domino asked.
"Yep," I said.
"Yes," Manny said.
"Okay then," Domino said, "I understand the rush."
"Do we start out with the shotgun and rifles?" Nicky asked.
I slowed down, easing through the last bit of traffic as I made toward the restaurant. Once I turned off the lights I was just another car and all the traffic laws applied to me again. I'd had some of the other regular cops explain to me that once the lights and sirens were turned off on an unmarked car, the magic get-out-of-my-fucking-way card vanished. Some people seemed to go out of their way to block you once the light show was over. It was like they resented it or something. It was hard to slow down after driving like a bat out of hell, but I'd learned that the other plainclothes cops were right, and people would get in your way just like now. It made me want to scream at the cars, but an accident this close to the goal would slow me down more than a little bit of traffic.
"No, we go in with just the handguns and what we have on us. Let's see if I can persuade the zombie to walk out with us; less chance of any innocent bystanders getting hurt," I said.
"Doesn't the zombie have to obey you?" Domino asked.
"Normally, yes, but if he goes flesh eater he won't obey anyone. I can probably hold him with will and magic for a few minutes; if that happens, then go to the car and get the big guns while I try to control the zombie."
"Combined we might be able to control the zombie longer," Manny said.
"We've combined powers to raise more and bigger dead, true, but I'm not sure how to combine our talents without a blood binding."
"If we think the zombie is dangerous, cut my hand under the table, or behind our backs, cut yours, and hold on," Manny said.
"That quick, no words needed, no circle of power?"
"I'm betting we can do it without anything else, just the blood," he said.
I nodded. "Okay, but only if the zombie doesn't cooperate."
"Of course."
"Do you want one of the shotguns if we have to use them?" Nicky asked.
It took Manny a second to realize Nicky was talking to him. "No, I'm not a shooter."
"If we have to shoot, then Manny's part is over, and he takes cover."
"And when we come back inside with the big guns, how do we shoot the zombie? I know it's different than shooting people," Domino said.
"Shoot the legs first," Nicky said, "so he can't run; if you don't have a good leg target take the hands and mouth, those are his weapons. Take the hands and the mouth and he can't hurt anyone, then shoot his legs so he can't run, and we move up on him and shoot him to pieces."
Manny looked from Nicky to me.
"It's not his first rodeo," I said.
"I was on the trip to Colorado, too," Domino said.
"You weren't with us in the morgue," Nicky said.
"You weren't with me in the graveyard," I said.
"I was protecting Nathaniel, Micah, and his family like I was ordered to," he said.
"That's true," I said, as I finally eased us into the parking lot. I so wished I could give tickets out to people who swarmed in front of me as soon as the lights and sirens stopped. It would have been childish, but satisfying. It looked like a normal late-night Denny's with a few people at booths and tables; a waitress carried a full tray like nothing was wrong. Great; if no one was running and screaming for help, then the zombie was behaving itself. Once they take a bite out of someone everyone panics; same thing if you shoot someone, violence makes people react like prey animals. You hurt one and the herd scatters to save itself. It was so hardwired into all of us; only training would stop the reaction.
"So why do I feel like I let you down that I don't know this stuff?"
"This ain't the time, kid," Nicky said.
"We're the same age," Domino said.
"Only in years," Nicky said.
I parked in the handicapped spot, because it was the only spot open near the door, but I said a small prayer that no one who really needed it would pull up. I'd learned long ago that there but for the grace of a few injuries go I, or something like that.
I turned and said to Domino, "Either get out of the car and follow our lead, or stay in the car and out of the way." It was harsh, but I didn't have time for hand holding, and the fact that Domino didn't know that was one of the reasons he wasn't my first choice for marshal work, or a lot of other things.
His face said he was angry, but in that moment I didn't care. Manny was out on his side of the car. I got out of my side. Domino got out, too. I guess he wasn't waiting in the car.
28
WE WALKED THROUGH the door with me in my official Windbreaker, the one that read MARSHAL in big letters. If we had to pull weapons I wanted the civilians to know we were the good guys and not robbing the place. The jacket was harder to miss than a badge at my waist. People would also assume that everyone with me was a marshal, too, so it was easier to explain why most of the people with me were armed.
I let Nicky get the door, but he didn't hold it for me; he went through first, and then I came through, catching the door behind him. He was still technically my bodyguard and he could also take more damage than I could and keep moving, so letting him go through first just made sense. Manny came behind me, and Domino brought up the rear.
The hostess hurried toward us, her face worried. We just so looked like trouble. "Is everything all right, officers?"
I smiled as bright as I would at any client, and said, "We're just looking for some friends, need to touch base." It was vague but gave her something normal to concentrate on.
She nodded as if it made perfect sense, one hand smoothing her long brown hair back behind her ear. "Who are you looking for?"
Nicky shook his head. He didn't see the zombie, or the clients. I couldn't remember if Denny's took reservations, but I said, "It's a large party under the name MacDougal, or Willis."
She relaxed. "Oh yes, they're in the back. We needed one of the big tables." She grabbed menus as if we were staying for food. I didn't tell her different; I've found that if you can let people do normal things they're more comfortable around the guns and badges. It didn't hurt to give her the illusion that everything was normal--maybe it was, except for the zombie. If the health department found out about it, they would close them down until they sterilized the whole place top to bottom.
We followed the hostess to the back room with its bigger tables. It used to be where they sent smokers, but once you couldn't smoke inside anymore it just became more table space. I saw Owen MacDougal first; even sitting down he was the biggest guy at the table. I looked around the table for the zombie and didn't see the black suit jacket, just polo shirts, T-shirts, and the
women in some blouses. Ethel Willis, the cow lover from earlier, wasn't with the group. Maybe seeing the cow slaughtered had been too much for her?
MacDougal raised his hand in greeting at me, smiling, and only when the man beside him turned and looked at me did I realize that was the zombie. They'd let him change clothes. I hadn't recognized him in the Ramones T-shirt. My heart just stopped for a beat; the fear went through me in a rush that left my fingertips tingling.
I swallowed hard and whispered to Manny, "Pick out the zombie."
"What?"
"Pick out the zombie."
Manny looked at me, but when I nodded him toward the group, he looked that way. I walked around the table to take MacDougal's offered hand. He was terribly pleased with himself. "Ms. Blake, I didn't expect to see you again tonight, and not in full marshal gear." A tiny frown touched his face. "Is everything all right?"
I gave him the full client smile, the one that actually reaches my eyes. "I was out on other business when I got the call that you were out at a restaurant, not a place most clients take, um, mutual friends, so I thought we'd stop by, see how things were going, since we were in the area."
One of the women at the table said, "Everything is great." She smiled and laid a hand on the arm near her on the table.
The zombie smiled back at her, damn near as warmly.
My phone binged, and I checked it. Manny's text read, "I can't tell."
I smiled into the face of the man that I'd raised from the dead and wondered, could I have told if I hadn't known? Would I have picked him out of the smiling, laughing group? I tried to see them with clear eyes, but I couldn't. I looked into Thomas Warrington's happy, alive face, and fought to keep the horror off mine. What the hell had I done?
The woman who touched him had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her face was young and pretty, eyes a solid brown, but they were all alight as she touched the dead man beside her. I was engaged to a vampire, who was I to bitch, but the sight of her hand on his arm chilled me. I wondered if that was how some people felt when they saw me holding hands with Jean-Claude. I hoped not, because I was truly horrified as the zombie put his hand over hers on the table. Fuck.
I moved around until I was next to MacDougal, so I could lean over and talk low. I kept smiling and being pleasant as I said, "It's illegal to bring a zombie into a restaurant."
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