“Remove Dr. Charish from these premises until a decision can be made as to her…disposition.” He paused, and I heard Charish suck in a shocked breath. “And in the meantime,” he continued, “she is to have no more than three hundred calories a day.”
“Ari! No!” Charish gasped while I silently cheered. Three hundred calories a day? I knew damn well Dr. Nikas ordered that so Charish would get a hint of what real hunger felt like.
“Yes, sir,” Brian replied evenly. “Secure cell, sir?” he added, emphasizing the word “cell” a bit, and I had no doubt he’d done so simply to fuck with her.
“Most definitely,” Dr. Nikas replied.
“No, Ari…oh god. Please! You can’t do this. Pietro will…oh, god.” She was crying for real now, which surprised me. She struck me as the type to go cold and shut down. Maybe the thought of what Pietro would do scared the ice right out of her.
“I made the grievous error of trusting you with my interests,” Dr. Nikas said with undisguised reproach in his voice. “I will not do so again.”
I heard a muffled whimper, and then Brian said, “This way, Dr. Charish.” A few seconds later he came through the doorway, escorting her with a firm grip on her upper arm. Her hands had been secured behind her back with zip-ties, I noted as they passed. I didn’t bother to hide the fact that I openly watched her be escorted out. No one in the room was hiding it, Philip included.
Halfway to the exit, she began to struggle and tried to pull away from Brian. “No. No! This isn’t right!”
Brian visibly tightened his grip, fingers digging in. “Walk or be dragged.”
She let out a low cry. “You’re hurting me,” she said, stumbling forward again. “Ari didn’t say to hurt me.”
“He didn’t have to,” was his utterly calm reply as they exited. A few seconds later the outer door clanged shut.
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” I muttered.
Philip made a low noise. Shifting up onto one elbow, I peered down at him. “Is it getting any better?” I asked quietly.
“Really dizzy…all of a sudden,” he said, voice definitely sounding more clear than earlier.
“Dr. Nikas?” I called.
He stepped into the doorway, and I was shocked to see that he looked anguished. He liked Dr. Charish, I realized with a start. Or at least he had before today.
I had a hard time wrapping my head around the kind and gentle Dr. Nikas finding anything at all appealing about that woman, but obviously there’d been something there. He’d called her brilliant. Had that been it?
Straightening his shoulders, he moved to Philip’s side and crouched. “What is it?”
“He says he’s really dizzy all of a sudden,” I told him.
Dr. Nikas checked the IV and monitoring devices, looked into Philip’s eyes. “Other than the dizziness, better or worse overall?”
“Thinking clearer. Pain’s easing some too, maybe,” Philip said. “Hard to tell, but I don’t think it hurts quite so much.”
“All of your vitals look good,” Dr. Nikas said with an encouraging smile. “I’m going to slow the drip down a bit, and I’ve started a mild sedative. If you can sleep, do so. It will be a few hours until you’re back to your normal level of stability.”
Philip managed a whisper of a smile. “I’m more than ready to sleep. Thanks for having my back.” He took a deeper breath. “I’m sorry, Dr. Nikas. For all this. Two days ago, Saberton cut out all real brains for me…and Tim and Roland. Only gave us their current alternative. I wouldn’t eat them, didn’t dare,” he said. “I used up everything you’d left for me, then was starving. Should have signaled. Wasn’t thinking straight and got desperate.”
“Understandable,” Dr. Nikas said. “We’ll take good care of you now. I’m sorry you didn’t get what you needed when you came here last night.” He gave Philip’s shoulder a light squeeze, then looked over at me. “Angel, may I speak with you a moment?”
I glanced down at Philip. The corner of his mouth twitched in a mild tic, but the general tremors had stopped, and he almost almost looked at peace. I checked in with my zombie-mama intuition, but it seemed to agree and didn’t urge me to stay by his side. Giving a nod to Dr. Nikas, I pulled a blanket over Philip, then stood and followed him as he passed through the doorway, down the hall, and finally into a small office.
He closed the door behind us and opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“Why didn’t y’all put a stop to the testing Saberton was doing?” I asked, frowning. “Those people didn’t volunteer. That fake zombie shit really fucked them up. A woman died because of it.”
He let out a low sigh. “We were working on it, Angel. That was part of the reason Philip was undercover with them.”
My eyes narrowed. “Working on it? Really?” I liked Dr. Nikas, but that didn’t mean I was going to let this slide. “It looked more like Philip was undercover to steal their results and pass them to y’all.”
Dr. Nikas exhaled and rubbed at his eyes. “Yes, but part of what he passed to us were details that we hoped would help us undermine their operation as a whole, not merely that small segment.” He dropped his hand, expression pained. “The research was happening whether I liked it or not. To refuse to use the data for some misguided moral reason and leave it to Saberton exclusively would be…irresponsible.”
I fell silent for a moment. The low tick of a clock on the wall seemed to reverberate through the small room while I tried to make everything fit into a pattern I could handle. “Was it useful?” I finally asked, voice low. “The data—was it worth it?”
He gave a grave nod. “Every bit of data, every sample helps. I know the direction they’re going with their research and have projects underway based on it and to counter it. Invaluable.” But then he shook his head, looking suddenly weary. “Was it worth the death of Brenda Barnes? No. She was an innocent.”
Dr. Nikas knew the name of the woman who’d died as part of that horrible research. That, along with everything else I’d seen of him, convinced me that he actually did give a shit. I blew out my breath. “I guess Philip’s meltdown put an end to that project anyway. At least for now.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Yes. Not at all in the way I’d hoped to extract him, but they will be disrupted for a time.” His eyes met mine. “He needs much care. You were kind enough to give me a small sample of blood at the main lab the other day,” he said. “Would you consider giving a pint? It could be crucial in developing a more effective stabilizer for Philip.”
He already had samples of my blood; I couldn’t see any harm in giving him more. “Sure thing.”
“I’m not certain yet if it will help,” he cautioned, “but I’d prefer to have it on hand as I work with his issues.”
“If there’s a chance it’ll help Philip, I’ll do it,” I replied, then frowned. “What about the two others—the ones Philip turned? Tim Bell and Roland Westfeld.”
He exhaled. “I haven’t had a chance to fully determine the nature of their condition,” he explained. “How they were converted was…perverse, and I don’t know yet if their damage can be reversed or even stabilized.” His brow creased. “And they are Saberton men.”
“They stood and watched me get strip searched,” I said quietly, looking away. “Maybe it makes me an awful person, but I guess I don’t have much sympathy for them right now.” I sighed and looked back to him. “But I really do hope you can do something good for Philip.”
Dr. Nikas nodded slowly. “Before those two were so poorly converted, their view of zombies was likely much in line with Dr. Charish’s—occasionally useful second-class citizens.” His mouth tightened, and he shook his head. “Pietro will make the final decision on what happens to them based on my assessment. As for Philip, yes, I can help him to at least not be in continuous pain, and to curb the unnatural hunger. In time, I may discover a way to fully reverse the damage. Your blood will help.”
I considered all that in silence for a
moment. The two men were seriously damaged. They didn’t seem to have the same degree of pain issues that Philip had, but they were unstable and bitey as hell. I definitely saw how dangerous it was to have them roaming around with such screwed up parasites. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they’d converted any others into messed up zombies. Maybe the parasite was too damaged to spawn. But isn’t condemning them to death for being “too damaged” treating them like second class citizens and less than human?
There were no easy answers, that much was for sure.
I tugged a hand through my hair, then looked up at Dr. Nikas, brow furrowed. “Why did Philip calm down when I bit him?”
It was his turn to go quiet for a moment. “Technically he shouldn’t have,” he finally said.
That only confused me more. “What does that mean? I don’t even know why I did it. It just felt…right.”
Dr. Nikas drew a breath, hesitated, then shook his head and spread his hands. “It is a characteristic that should not manifest in a young zombie.”
I regarded him as steadily as I could. “And what does that mean?”
He met my eyes with one of those I’m-ancient-as-all-hell gazes that I’d received a time or two from Pietro. “It means that I have never seen a zombie less than five hundred years old with the instinct and ability to inflict a control bite.”
I gaped as I tried to get the implications of this tidbit of info to fit into my world view. First off, that meant there were zombies over five hundred years old, likely including Dr. Nikas. And Pietro. I’d known zombies had the potential to live a long time, but having an actual number from someone who no doubt knew the truth blew my mind.
But even that seemed minor compared to the fact that, somehow, little ol’ not-even-a-year-old zombie me was able to do some zombie judo hold that normally only Grand Poobah Zombies could do. What the hell did that mean for me?
Dr. Nikas pushed off the counter, gave me a sad little smile. “We can talk about this more later. If you’re still willing, I’ll have Jacques take your blood, and then Brian can drive you home.”
Home. Right. Wherever the hell that was. “Sure thing,” I replied numbly.
He gave me a small nod, then turned and left me alone with my roiling thoughts.
Chapter 25
I gave a pint of my blood to Jacques, accepted a packet of brains in return, then checked on Philip. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably, and the lines of pain in his face had smoothed out a bit. After twitching the blanket a bit higher over his shoulders, I looked over to the waiting Brian.
“Are you my ride?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied. “No rush.”
Kyle was resting quietly. Heather lay stretched out on the mattress beside him reading to him in a low voice from a book called Abaddon’s Gate with a big spaceship on the cover. They weren’t cuddling or anything, but I didn’t think Brian was thrilled about it anyway. A whisper of an expression that might have been jealousy touched his face but disappeared the instant he realized I was looking at him.
Ooooh, Brian really does like Heather! My inner third-grader cheered. But then I had to mask a grin. It was only fair to leave open the possibility that it was Kyle who Brian liked. Either way it seemed there might be some zombie soap opera brewing.
Still hiding a smile, I exited the lab with Brian close behind, headed to his Escalade and allowed him to hold the passenger door open for me, but only because he beat me there.
“To Marcus’s house?” Brian asked after he climbed into the driver’s seat, and it took me a minute to remember why the heck he wanted to drive me there instead of my own house.
“Oh, yeah, right,” I said. “My house is probably somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico by now.” And so now I’m gonna stay with Marcus. I held back a grimace. This had the potential to be awkward. After the attack at the boat launch I’d spent the night with him, but that had been the first time in ages. And now I was about to basically move in, for who the hell knew how long.
“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “You’ve had a devastating couple of days.”
“It sure hasn’t been the best week of my life,” I said then shook my head. “No, actually it was a pretty decent week, even with all of the Saberton crap. It was only a few hours on Friday morning that sucked sweaty balls.”
Brian let out a low snort. “That land you were living on, do you own it?”
“Well, my dad does, yeah,” I replied. “So it’d be stupid not to stay there.” I shook my head. “It was all right for ordinary flood levels. The spillway break was a once in a lifetime thing.” I winced. “At least I sure as hell hope so. Anyway, I’m hoping I can buy a trailer or something and put it there.”
“They have some pretty nice ones these days,” Brian offered. “And modular housing that doesn’t look like a trailer.”
“Even if I want to get a shitty one, I’m gonna have to borrow money.” I scowled. “Damn. This sucks. The only person in the world who might be willing to loan me money would maaaaaybe be Pietro, and…” I trailed off with a sigh.
Brian glanced over at me. “And?”
“I don’t know if I want the strings that would come with it,” I said quietly.
“Maybe find out what the strings will be before writing off the possibility,” Brian replied. At least he wasn’t denying that said strings would exist. “Can’t hurt to talk to him. You don’t have to commit to anything.”
“Oh, I intend to talk to him. I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I shook my head. “That’s the worst part. I don’t have a choice. Who the hell else would write me or my dad a loan to buy even a crappy used trailer at rates that aren’t criminal?”
“I see what you mean,” Brian said, exhaling. “But the alternative—having no resource at all—would be worse. And, yes, I know I’m biased.” He gave me a slight smile.
“I know, I know,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “I’m lucky to even have this option. Don’t mind me. I’m being stupid.” I was lucky. I knew that. How did people without credit or collateral or other options go about rebuilding after a disaster?
“Not stupid,” he said. “Simply wary of walking open-eyed into a trap. I get it.”
“Right,” I said. “I’ve done that kind of thing already and it wasn’t fun.” Like trading myself for my dad to end up as one of Dr. Charish’s lab rats. I didn’t regret doing so for a second, but damn, that had not been fun.
Brian cleared his throat softly. “I owe you an apology.”
Frowning, I glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “About what happened to you with Kristi Charish…and McKinney. I missed identifying McKinney as William Rook, an operative working for Saberton at the time.” His hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel. “Charish hired him not knowing who he was,” Brian continued. “McKinney got the info he needed and put her together with Saberton. The rest progressed from there.”
I took that in, then shook my head. “Charish woulda still found a way to fuck Pietro over. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“I don’t dwell on it, but I damn sure haven’t forgotten it,” Brian said, jaw tight. “Rook was good, really good, at what he did.” Sighing, he shook his head. “If I’d uncovered him at any point, it would have saved a lot of loss, and certainly would have kept you out of that situation. Maybe even cut off Charish before she gave too much to Saberton.” He slanted a glance my way. “Only speculation now, though. Didn’t have her under close enough supervision. I’ve tightened everything up since then.”
“All of this corporate espionage shit is pretty crazy,” I said. “Like the whole business with Philip.”
Brian gave a slight nod. “He endured a great deal and gained us a tremendous advantage.”
“Right,” I said. “But, um, Pietro said something that I’ve been thinking about: Philip was undercover with Saberton before I got kidnapped, right?”
Apparently Brian knew exactly where I was going
with this. “You want to know why Pietro left you in that lab if he knew what was going on.”
I smiled tightly. “Something like that.”
“Basically, he didn’t know,” Brian said. I gave him a dubious look, and he continued, “Philip managed to get onto the volunteer list for Charish’s project by some devious sleight of hand and was only able to send a very terse message to that effect before he was taken to Charish’s lab at that factory. And once there, he had no opportunity to get a message out with details or location.” He looked over at me. “Angel, I give you my word on this.”
I hesitated, then nodded slowly. I trusted Brian to tell me the truth—at least as far as he knew it. “Okay.” I fell silent for the rest of the drive. I’d thought I’d known how high the stakes were for Pietro and zombies in general, but in reality they were higher than I could’ve ever imagined. It wasn’t simply Pietro versus Saberton. The safety of every zombie, as well as our ability to live relatively normal lives and blend in with regular society, depended on guarding our secrets and being the first to make the advances such as fake brains and ways to modify the parasite. Pietro had to be ruthless for a reason, and I truly did understand it.
So maybe it was time for me to let go of some of my grudges. Even if I could possibly live a couple hundred years, life was still too damn short to cling to regrets or old anger. Maybe that was maturity—understanding that even the bad shit makes you who you are.
Maturity still sucked. And though I was ready to forgive Pietro, that didn’t mean I had to trust him farther than I could throw him. Maturity didn’t have to equal stupidity.
We pulled into Marcus’s driveway, and Brian put the Escalade into park.
“Thanks for the drive,” I said. “And for listening to me whine.”
“You’re welcome, Angel,” he replied. “And you have my number if you ever need anything.”
“Um. No, I don’t anymore, actually. Flood got it too.”
He pulled out a new card, then wrote another number on the back. “If it’s an emergency, and you can’t get me, call that number and tell them ‘one one three Archer.’ That will ensure you get assistance.”
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