seventeen-year-old into danger, okay? If you want your daughter, then deal with me.”
His eyes jut around the lot, then the cemetery. It’s too dark to see far, but the team still better be hidden well. “And they sent you alone?”
“I’m expendable. They don’t like me very much. Now, where is our man?”
Wayland reaches down and pulls out a gun, pointing it right at my face. Oh, monkeys. “First take off your guns and throw them to me.” Moving slowly, I do as he says, unclipping the holster from my belt, then putting my arms in the air. “Any others? Take off your jacket and show me your ankles.” I do.
“Satisfied? Now where is Andrew?”
“My daughter first.”
“No, Andrew first. No offense, but I don’t really trust you.”
He flicks the safety off. My breath quickens double time. “I make the rules, lady. Now where the fuck is my daughter?”
Don’t lose it now, Bea. “She’s not here, but she’s safe. Now I will tell you where she is when you show me Andrew.”
His grip tightens around the gun. “You didn’t bring her?” he shouts.
Oh God! Be Joan Crawford. Joan Crawford knows no fear. “It was a guarantee so you wouldn’t snatch her and kill me. So if you want your daughter back, tell me where Andrew is!”
“He’s about ten minutes away from hell, lady. And if you do anything to me, if I don’t call off my dogs in ten minutes, you’ll have one dead blind man on your hands. I know what you all did to Kennedy with that sniper rifle; I’m not going down like him. So you have ten minutes to get my kid!”
“I need proof he’s—”
We both get distracted the moment Nancy materializes clutching the tranq gun to her chest. Oh, crud, she’s early. Nancy moves her huge rifle into position, the thing looking as big as she is. Wayland doesn’t hesitate. His gun swings toward her. He squeezes the trigger. No time to think. I pick him up and toss him sideways a millisecond before the bullet leaves the chamber. It misses Nancy’s head by just inches. She pants and the rifle shakes. Will runs toward us, shouting something I can’t understand because my ears ring from the shot.
The sudden rush of power just about knocks me down. A million somethings creep under my skin just like last night. The others must feel the same because Will stops mid-stride and Nancy screeches, releasing the rifle. The wall hits a second time, dropping all of us to the ground. My head hits pavement. Stupid white spots cover most of my field of vision. I barely notice a fat figure dashing toward the cemetery. I lift my head and shake the fuzziness away. Wayland runs into the darkness of the cemetery. I stand and rub my new bump, watching as Nancy does the same.
“What happened?” she asks.
“We’re in deep trouble.” I grab her sleeve and drag her to the trunk of our SUV. We don’t have much time. I put my machete in my belt—I found it with the other weapons that were collected after the mayhem last night and have decided to call her Bette after the equally intimidating Bette Davis—and the extra gun clips right next to it. Better than Batman’s utility belt in my opinion. Nancy grabs the flamethrower and I help her put on the straps of the gas can. “You know how to work this thing, right?”
“Yep.” I blink and she vanishes. I shut the trunk and retrieve my gun and Wayland’s, tucking them in my belt too.
Then I make the mistake of looking ahead.
The first have risen, mostly skeletons held together by next to nothing. Will punches one and it falls apart. More rise, then more, just like last night. They come up with their teeth mashing, clawing at the world with dirty hands. I don’t want to go in there. My legs don’t move. I don’t even try to move them. I shut my eyes. I could get into the car and drive away. Drive all the way to San Diego if I wanted to. Home to Nana, home to April, maybe I can even get my old job back. It was a good idea last night, still a good idea today. I can’t do this again, I just can’t. I’ll die. I don’t want to die.
Someone shouts my name. My eyes jerk open.
Three zombies hold Will, his body jerking, twisting, trying to get away. Two hold him by the shoulders. The one holding his foot bites his calf and he falls. A fourth joins the pile. I yank it off without moving. Then the other two disappear in opposite directions like they were shot out of cannons. My legs pump toward him. By the time I reach him, another zombie is almost on top of him. Out comes the machete and off comes its head and arms.
“Thank you,” Will says, looking up at me in a sort of shock. I told him I could take care of myself.
“Don’t mention it.” He takes my hand, and I pull him up. Another zombie grabs his shoulder but he elbows it away, knocking its head off. I smile. “Neat.”
“Which way did Wayland go?”
“No idea,” I lie. That creep is mine. “What should we do now?”
“Kill as many as you can,” he says before running away into the fray. A burst of orange light appears and disappears a little ways off. Why didn’t I grab a flamethrower? At least I—crud. A mummified corpse in pioneer-era clothes grabs my arm but I chop in time. Don’t think, just do, Bea. Flashlight and machete in hand, I run the way Wayland went. A few corpses snag me but are either shot or cut. There are too many to give my undivided attention so I just do a little damage to the grabby ones and continue into the cemetery. Stop the source and there will be no more zombies.
He could be hiding anywhere. I run through rows of stony graves as high as my waist, occasionally dispatching an attacker, but there are so many wandering people with no hair it’s hard to distinguish a dead bald head from a living one. Guess he wasn’t as drained as we had anticipated. If I were him, I’d be holed up in a crypt, but like the zombies, there are too many crypts to check and most have things pounding on their walls from inside. I’m not stupid enough to open them. I keep running around with no real idea what I’m doing. Slash, shoot, run away, look … it’s all I can do. Just stay alive and find the killer.
A flash of orange against the star-filled sky out of the corner of my eye gets my attention. A few zombies see it too because they change course toward it. Going toward fire; yep, no brains left. Easy prey. Heads literally roll when I reach them. When Bette the Machete finishes with a woman in genuine bell-bottoms, I notice a figure running away from the light. Being a zombie expert now, I know they can’t run. It requires too much coordination and concentration. Wayland. I take off after him dodging both headstones and corpses. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate running? I’m winded after ten seconds, but he’s in even worse shape than I am, so I’m gaining on him. He’s less of a black blob now, and I can make out a definitely male figure.
Headstones vanish and after a large strip of grass, the figure runs through a high metal fence with nothing but crypts and other small stone buildings on the other side. The small white and gray buildings seem connected, with a foot or two between them and paths to every grouping. Some are crumbling, with huge chunks missing, and others have serious water damage. The ground is uneven with cracks in the concrete and sections raised. I have to look both up and down so I don’t trip or walk into someone’s final resting place. The figure runs behind one of the more intact crypts, and I follow. But when I get to the other side, he’s gone. I look but don’t see anyone. I’ve lost him! I pull off my walkie. “This is Alexander, come in.”
A second later, “Alexander, this is Price.”
“I think I’ve tracked Wayland to the back of the cemetery. It’s full of mausoleums. I’ve lost sight of him, but he has to be around here somewhere.”
“Alexander, proceed with caution. The person closest to her position rendezvous with her immediately.”
“On my way,” Oliver says through the walkie.
I scan the area again, but there is no movement. I replace Bette with my gun; all the corpses in this area are either locked in or too decayed to move around so I won’t need her. Crud. Wrong. The second the gun is in my hand, shuffling starts nearby. I shine the flashlight in a circle but see nothing.
&n
bsp; “Pretty,” a gravelly voice says behind me. I spin around just as a blur of blue leaps from the top of a crypt onto me. Me and Boy Blue land on the ground, my head narrowly missing an edge of concrete. The jumper quickly pins my body, holding my wrists down. The flashlight clatters beside us, the beam still shining on us. The stink from this guy is as intolerable as his face—yellow and brown with only one eye. His skin feels loose and dry around my wrists. I’m going to barf. “Too old for my taste though.”
“Fucking kiddy raper,” another man says. He steps toward us. He’s not in any better shape than his buddy—his skin is more sunken and yellow, but he has both his eyes, though they’re clouded by milky cataracts. He has a mullet too. “You wouldn’t know what to do with her. Let a big boy show you how.”
Oh no, these aren’t zombies. They’re ghouls! They can think for themselves.
“You should be watching the other one,” one-eye says. “She called for backup.”
“I say we kill ‘em both now. We’re missing out on all the fun. Hey, boss!”
Footsteps move toward us until he’s in view. Wayland. I quickly rule out killing him there because the Gruesome Twosome might do the same to me and then Andrew, who must be around here somewhere.
“Good job, Jay,” Wayland says. “I knew she’d follow you.” He walks closer toward me, looking down. From this angle, he has a triple chin. “Now where the hell is my daughter?”
“Stop the zombies and I’ll tell you.”
“No deal. Kill her and the blind one, and then get another one to talk.”
“You dug us up, boss,” Mullet says.
“Just make it quick,” Wayland says walking away, “we have things to do.”
The ghouls seem disappointed. Too bad for them. I don’t wait for them to carry out their orders. I push Boy Blue off me with my mind, only he doesn’t let go of my wrists. We fly, then his head bumps into the crypt behind him and I fall on top, doubling the impact. He releases my wrists, and I roll off him like a log. Mullet lunges but only reaches my foot as I kick him in the groin. Dead or alive, that still smarts. He doubles over with a howl of pain. But Boy Blue jumps me again and a wrestling match ensues. We roll around with me kicking his legs and holding his head away from my neck as he chomps at it with yellow teeth. I keep ending up on the bottom.
Still holding his crotch, Mullet finally stands but not before taking my gun from the ground. Well, I’d rather be shot than eaten any day of the week. He stumbles toward our match, gun raised. Oh, crap! I push down on the ground and roll us again just as the gun goes off. The bullet hits right where we were. Too freaking close. And I’ve moved us right against another crypt so we have nowhere else to roll. Oh, fudge. New plan. I fling Mullet as hard as I can sideways into a crypt with my mind, which darn near explodes into huge chunks on impact. Should have done that sooner.
“Impressive again.”
Both the ghoul and I look sideways just as Oliver’s fist smashes into my attacker’s face. Boy Blue’s head leaves a dent in the wall. The ghoul releases me, and I stand up. Bette the Machete unsheathes and off goes his head. That does the trick. The rest of his body stops moving. No need for dismemberment. Well, that’s refreshing.
“Took you long enough to get here,” I pant.
“A thousand pardons.” Mullet stands from the rubble, no longer stunned. “Allow me,” Oliver says. He disappears then reappears next to the peeved off animate corpse and instantly rips its head off, yellow fluid dripping to the cement. The body falls and Oliver drops the head next to the rest of it. “I prefer ghouls, do you not? So much easier to dispatch.”
“Yeah, love ‘em.” I pick up my flashlight from the ground. “I think Andrew’s around here somewhere. Wayland too.”
Oliver rips my gun out of the ghoul’s hand. “Then we shall find them.” He appears beside me and hands me the gun. Guess I’m getting used to the disappearing and reappearing act of his. I only had a slight urge to pee my pants. “Stay close. You appear to be a magnet for danger. Never a dull moment with you, is there?”
I put the gun in my holster. “Stop flirting.” I follow him, Bette at my side, through the crypts. He stops at a random crypt and puts his ear against it. When satisfied he moves onto another.
This is a plan? “This is going to take forever,” I mutter. “Andrew!” I shout. “Make some noise so we can find you!”
“That works as well.”
I listen but hear nothing. “Maybe he’s unconscious.” Spoke too soon. Oliver grabs my hand and near drags me farther into the crypts. I start to hear the pounding. He stops pulling when we reach one of the larger mausoleums, the source of the noise.
“Andrew?” Oliver asks.
“I’m here,” he shouts from inside the onyx polished marble mausoleum with an iron door.
“Move from the door, I will try to break it down.” I move out of the way as Oliver starts kicking the iron door. It shimmies but doesn’t open. He kicks again. “This iron is too strong. Perhaps the combined strength of Will and me … ”
I pull off my walkie. “Will, come in.”
“Alexander? Did backup arrive?”
“Yeah, but we need you. We found Andrew, but we can’t get into the mausoleum.”
“On my way. Out.”
I replace the walkie. “Let’s keep trying. Maybe if you kick and I push?”
“I suppose it is worth a try. On three.” I concentrate on the door. Push at the center. “One … two … three!”
He kicks and I push with my mind. Hard. The door dents in the middle like a crushed can and jets into the mausoleum like a projectile missile, smashing to the back wall, shaking the whole structure. Lord, did I do that? Oliver turns to me and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was afraid of me for a second. Something about the way his mouth hangs.
Andrew steps out of the crypt, feeling the wall for guidance. Dried blood covers his left forehead. Without the sunglasses, his eyes look as white as a zombie’s. Ugh, bad comparison. “I think I’m deaf.”
“Well, at least you’re not locked up anymore.” I take his arm to help him out. We all start walking toward the entrance. “Are you okay?”
“My head is killing me. I don’t know what happened. Someone knocked on the door, and when I opened it there was a gun to my side. He took me to his car and clubbed me. I woke up here. I did, however, have a lovely conversation with the inhabitant of the mausoleum.”
“Well, at least it wasn’t all bad,” I say. He almost walks into a crypt, but I lead him away.
“Stop,” Oliver says. We do. I glance around but only see stone monuments. “Andrew, do you feel that?”
“Oh, yes. He’s close.”
“Wayland?” I ask. “Where is he? I don’t see anything. Oliver, do you?”
He has the strangest expression on his face, darn near vacant. He doesn’t blink. “Oliver?”
“Get away from me,” he whispers. “Something … ”
“Oliver? What’s the matter?”
He walks in a trance away from us. His head cocks to the left, listening to something only he can hear. “You need to leave! Now!”
Andrew tugs on my arm. “I think we should do what he says.”
I can’t leave him here like this. His eyes have doubled in size. “Oliver—”
Oliver grabs my shoulders so hard I think I hear a crack. Oh God, his eyes are black but it’s the fanged snarl with saliva dripping that makes my heart beat triple time. He’s vamping out. His trembling hands dig into my arm so hard I cry out. “RUN!” Oliver bellows. He shoves me against Andrew and disappears. What the heck was that? I don’t think I want to find out. Time to run.
I take Andrew’s hand and start moving. The old man slows me down, as does the maze of crypts. This is a bad plan and I know it. I can’t outrun Oliver. New plan. Hide. Andrew’s prison is still in sight. That’ll have to do. Eyes roving for movement, I walk the strangely calm man back. I lead Andrew inside, helping him around the two stone sarcophagi to the b
ack wall. Using every bit of concentration I can, I lift the door I just smashed and move it back to its home, filling the empty space. There but for the grace of God, it doesn’t fall.
“We should be safe here,” I whisper, not sounding convincing.
“He’s following us,” Andrew says. “I can hear him. You need to leave me behind.”
“Not an option. We can’t outrun him anyway. When he wants us, he’ll come.” I start pacing. “What happened to him? He completely vamped.”
“He must be under the control of the necromancer.”
Super. “They can control vampires?”
“Only the most powerful ones.”
“Of course,” I mutter.
Okay, we need a plan. We’ll just need to keep him busy until Will arrives. Plan, plan. Um … we can’t outrun him, don’t have stakes or holy anything. Putting Bette down, I release the clip of the gun. Three bullets, not good. Who knows how long it will take Will to get here with an army of corpses between us. I have to do something. He can hear us in here. “We’re sitting ducks. I think I’m going to have to leave you here. I’ll, uh, lure him away and keep him busy for as long as I can.” I put Bette in his hands, wrapping his fingers around her. “Take this, it’s a machete. If that door opens and you don’t hear a familiar voice, just keep swinging. You’re bound to hit something. Just keep quiet, okay? I’ll come back with help.”
He nods his head. “Okay.”
Gun at the ready, I stare at the door. Pull. I open the slab enough for me to squeeze out and then push it closed behind me. So far, so good. No vampires lying in wait. I feel him, though. His eyes. Stalking me. I scan and listen but it’s as quiet as a grave—pun intended. The crypts block my view. Anything can be hiding behind them. Just get this over with. Leading with gun and flashlight, I cautiously walk toward what I hope is the exit. Running would provoke him, so I stroll. Lovely night for a walk through a cemetery. For the first time tonight, I notice that I’m freezing, but the gooseflesh covering every centimeter of my skin is from his eyes on me, not the cold. Just get to the clearing, Bea. Cool, calm, collected. I see the entrance, the rusted fence. There’s a flash of movement to my left. I spin and it’s gone. He’s toying with me.
Mind Over Monsters Page 21
