“Okay,” I said. “So she got the heads and regrew at least one zombie that we know of using the fake brains.” I looked at Marcus. “By the way, dude, I think it’s insanely cool that it’s possible to do that.”
“I never knew it was,” he admitted. “It’s probably never been tried before because of the huge amount of brains it no doubt takes.”
That was a good point. It had taken quite a few brains to heal me up from a number of injuries that were only mildly life-threatening.
“And yes,” Marcus continued, “you apparently were right, and Zeke was trying to escape from the lab. But the fake brains screwed him up somehow, and he didn’t grow back properly.”
I grinned. “Now was that so hard? You need to accept I’m right a lot quicker in the future.”
He chuckled and gave me a squeeze. “I’ll do my best.”
Pietro cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was not long after this that Kristi came to me, again asking for a…volunteer.”
I scowled. “I still don’t understand why she felt the need to come to you for this. Why didn’t she simply go out and kidnap the first zombie she could find? I mean, why did she need your permission? She was already way over the line, right?”
Pietro was silent for a moment. “I am very old,” he finally said. He looked up at Marcus. “Far older than you suspect, I am certain,” he told Marcus. His gaze shifted to me for a fraction of a second, but in that instant it was as if he dropped a veil. Suddenly I could feel the immense weight of years and experiences and accumulated triumphs and grief. Then he looked away and the sensation was gone.
This dude has been a zombie a helluva lot longer than thirty years, I realized.
“Over the years I have been careful to cultivate influence,” he continued. “Kristi was right to be wary of my anger, and I’m certain that she was careful not to ‘cross the line,’ so to speak, until she was positioned with influence that she hopes can match mine.”
I kept the icy look on my face and didn’t respond.
He let out a soft sigh. “Yet having experience and influence has not saved me from doing some colossally foolish things.” He met my eyes again, but I didn’t get the “holy crap, he’s been around a long time” vibe this time, to my relief.
“I behaved utterly heinously to you,” he said. Then his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Marcus has expressed his displeasure quite vehemently.” He paused. “Quite vehemently. But he has stated that his forgiveness of me is entirely conditional on you, and whether you can accept my apology.”
Well, whaddya know. Marcus was letting me control my own damn life. I slid a look toward him, but he was doing that stony-impossible-to-read face thing. He was so damn cute when he did that.
“I’m a lot like my dad,” I said to Pietro. “I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. And as much as it would be great and awesome for everyone to forgive each other, and we all have a big group-fucking-hug, I can’t tell you I forgive you until I actually feel it and believe that you really do regret what happened and that you’re not just blowing smoke up my ass.”
The barest hint of a smile curved the edge of Pietro’s mouth and he gave a grave nod. “That seems eminently fair.” He turned his attention to Ed.
Ed held up his hand before Pietro could speak. “We’ll talk later,” he said, eyes dark and haunted.
“Of course,” Pietro replied, subdued.
“So, um, here’s what I don’t quite get,” I said, eager to bust up the sudden weird tension. “How did she get the head of security at the lab to do all of her dirty work, including killing several people? And why didn’t she simply get McKinney to get the zombie heads she needed?”
“I did some research on him after he snatched you,” Ed said. “With the help of Pietro I found out that his real name is William Rook and he’s, well, like an evil Jason Bourne-type. Super spy, assassin, mercenary type of dude, rumored to be involved in any number of covert government operations. In other words, he pretty much specializes in doing the dirty work.” He paused as the waitress came by to refill coffees. We all gave her friendly smiles, then immediately leaned in close again as soon as she walked off. “And Dr. Kristi Charish hired him less than a month ago. After she was able to prove that her zombie soldier concept had some merit.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said. “He wasn’t doing her dirty work. He was keeping an eye on her and doing what was needed for this whole government conspiracy zombie project thing.”
“Correct,” Pietro said. “He is a very dangerous man.” A pained look flashed over his face. “I wish I’d thought to have him checked out sooner, but Kristi assured me that she’d investigated him thoroughly and that I could trust him.” He didn’t say more, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Pietro had used McKinney for some dirty work of his own.
“Yeah, well I ate his brain.” I leaned back and laced my fingers behind my head. “Motherfucker shot me. I couldn’t let that shit slide.” I killed a man. Shouldn’t it bother me more than this? Yeah, sure, he was a really bad man, but still…
I straightened abruptly. “Shit. What day is it?”
Marcus tipped his wrist to look at his watch. “Well, in about an hour it’ll be Tuesday.”
“Oh, whew,” I slumped back in relief. “I didn’t miss it.”
“Didn’t miss what?” he asked.
I gave a rueful smile. “My meeting with my probation officer.”
Ed snorted. “Seriously? You’ve just survived a secret government zombie lab and that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Exactly!” I shot back. “I just survived a secret government zombie lab, so it would suck pretty damn hard to go through all that and then end up back in jail because I missed a simple meeting, right?”
He blinked. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t, man,” Marcus said fervently. “Don’t argue with her. It’s much better that way.”
I smiled and sipped my coffee.
Chapter 30
And then Marcus took me home. My dad and Ed had retrieved my car and someone had paid to replace the tires. Considering that the old tires had been dangerously bald, I was pretty pleased at how that worked out. I suspected Pietro had something to do with it, since I knew my dad didn’t have that kind of money. Also, miraculously, my purse and its contents were still in the car, which saved me a buttload of hassle.
Dad gave me such a long embrace that I wasn’t sure he was ever going to let me go. I didn’t mind.
“Someday you’ll tell me what that was all about, right, baby?” he muttered, voice rough.
I gulped and nodded. “I will. I promise.”
He finally released me and gave me a wavering smile, then lifted his head and looked to Marcus. “Thank you for keeping her safe and bringing her back.”
“She kept herself safe, Mr. Crawford,” he replied. “She’s a tough chick. All I did was give her a ride.”
“Yep,” I said as I rummaged through my purse to make sure everything was really there. “Just call me the Angel of Kicking Ass.” I gave him a wink.
My phone was dead, but as soon as I plugged it in it lit up like a Christmas tree with missed calls and text messages—almost all from Derrel, with the others from Nick and Monica. I skimmed through the text messages, confusion growing. From Derrel I had: Call me. And: Where are you? You need to watch the news. And: Call me! Where the hell are you? From Monica simply: Yay! I’m so happy for you! Then, from Nick: You’re late for work. And finally, from Derrel again: I’m going to kill you if you don’t call me!
The last text message from Derrel was from only twenty minutes ago, so I went ahead and called him back.
He answered with, “Don’t you ever check your messages?”
“Um, I’ve been a little busy. I was sorta out of town. What’s going on?”
“You need to watch the press conference Dr. Duplessis gave yesterday. It was on channel five news and it’s on their website.”
I started to remind him that I
didn’t have a computer at the house, then spun to Marcus. “You have a smart phone, right?” At his nod I told him, “Derrel says I need to watch the coroner’s press conference from yesterday on channel five news.”
“Okay,” I said to Derrel after Marcus pulled up the video and started it. “I’m watching it…Wait. What the hell?”
Derrel chuckled. “Keep watching.”
Dr. Duplessis was standing in the conference room behind a lectern, still wearing the damn bowtie.
“When Angel Crawford was nineteen years old she made a mistake—an error in judgment. No one was hurt, and any damage to property was minimal. In due order she was brought before a judge where she received a suspended sentence and probation.
“Our justice system is intended to rehabilitate offenders, and if we do not allow these people who wish to improve themselves the opportunity to do so, then we have failed them and failed ourselves as a society.
“Angel Crawford is a dedicated and hardworking employee who was the victim of a crime. She was held up at gunpoint and told to turn over the body bag containing a decedent. In most professions employees are told that, if they are robbed or threatened, they are to comply with the perpetrators demands in order to protect their own lives. This office is no different. And to imply that her prior record somehow contributed to this terrible incident—especially without knowing any of the details or reasons for the theft—is as vile an accusation as when a rape victim is blamed for somehow inviting their attack.
“Therefore I wish to make it perfectly clear that I refuse to bow to any of the political games that my opponents and the press are playing, because in this scenario, as in most political games, the pawns we so casually toss around are real human beings and our petty maneuverings have real consequences for them. Suspension or dismissal of Angel would not only rob this agency of one of its finest workers, but it would also give credence to the idea that this office was at fault or somehow negligent. And, I tell you now, it was not.”
There were still several minutes left on the video but I hit stop. “Wow, he sure loves to talk, doesn’t he?”
“Yep,” Derrel said. “He pretty much says the same thing four more times in different ways. I figure he’s going for the ‘Vote for me or I’ll keep talking’ tactic.”
“So I still have a job?”
“Damn straight.” I could hear the broad smile in his voice.
“Hang on a sec,” I said, then covered the receiver. I gave Marcus a probing look. “Did you or your uncle have anything to do with this?”
A smile played over his face, but he shook his head. “I swear, neither of us had anything to do with this.” I thought he had an odd inflection on “this” but I couldn’t be sure. I uncovered the receiver. “Seriously,” I asked Derrel. “What gives? I mean I know how awesome I am, but why would the coroner go public like this?”
“Dr. Leblanc,” Derrel replied. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the rest of us rallied around you too, but he was the one who went into Dr. Duplessis’s office and told him that if the coroner caved to the pressure to put you on leave or fire you, then not only would he quit but he’d throw every ounce of his support behind whichever of the coroner’s opponents had the best chances of beating him.” Derrel cleared his throat. “There might have been some other stuff said behind closed doors. But whatever was said worked.”
“Wow.” And then because I didn’t know what to say, I said, “Wow,” again.
“You cool with coming back to work Thursday morning? Oh, and you’ve been on paid leave these past few days. Just FYI.”
I grinned. “Yeah. Totally cool.”
“Thank god,” Derrel said fervently. “I thought I was going to end up partnered with Nick.”
“Well, at least he can type,” I teased.
He made an inarticulate sound. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he said.
I laughed and disconnected. “Looks like I have a job again.” I gave my dad and Marcus a quick rundown on how it all came about.
My dad sighed and shook his head. “Weird fucking job,” he muttered, but there was no disgust in his eyes anymore.
Marcus gave me a hug. “I’m happy for you. But I should let you get some rest now.”
“Let me walk you out,” I said.
I accompanied him out to his car. He smiled and moved to kiss me, but I planted a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Here’s the thing, Marcus,” I said. “I like you. A lot.”
His mouth twisted. “This is where you say ‘But I don’t think this is working and we should just be friends,’ right?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” I said, amused as his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I do think we should go out on dates. I just don’t think we should leap into being boyfriend and girlfriend the way we did. Because, really, we never did date.” I took a deep breath. “I want to see if we have more in common than simply being zombies. And great sex. Because, dude, if that’s the only reason we’re together, then that’s kinda fucked up, and can’t possibly end well.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He reached and rubbed my shoulders. “I like you, too. A lot.” He looked like he was about to say more, but then apparently changed his mind and simply gave me a rueful smile. “I’d like to date. Get to know you.”
I tipped my head up and gave him a light kiss. “I don’t think I’m the same person I was three months ago. I’d like to get to know me, too.”
He looked a bit lost, so I pulled him into a hug. He gave a little shudder then relaxed against me. Part of me felt awful and sick, but at the same time I knew that this was the right thing. I deserved to be with someone who wanted to be with me, whoever the hell that was.
I gave him a squeeze then released him. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Will do,” he said, smiling again. It was probably fake, but he was putting in a damn good effort.
I kissed him again, sent him on his way, then turned to head back inside. Maybe he and I really would work things out. In fact, I realized that I rather hoped we would. But at least now I knew that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t. I was stronger than I’d ever dreamed. And I had plenty of people in my life who had my back, no matter what.
Chapter 31
The next morning I headed to the probation and parole office, arriving with plenty of time to spare before my meeting. I sat stiffly on the hard plastic chair in the waiting room, legs crossed and arms folded, as I stared at the cheesy motivational posters on the dingy wall and avoided making any sort of eye contact with the other two people in the room.
I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and I straightened, noting with mild amusement that the others did as well. Officer Garza came around the corner, and the two slumped back again.
He gave me a slight chin lift. “Come on back, Angel.”
I followed him down the hall and into an office that might actually have been spacious if it hadn’t been crammed full of furniture and filing cabinets. He motioned me toward a chair while he took a seat behind his desk, an odd expression lingering on his face.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“I think so,” he said, pushing the papers away from him and leaning back. “See, I was going to talk to you today about your GED studies and tell you that as soon as you passed it I was going to put you in for early termination of your probation.”
I stared at him in surprise for several seconds. “Seriously? All I have to do is pass it, and then I’m done?”
He snorted. “Well, I was going to say that. But then something happened this morning that changed those plans.”
Elation shifted to terror. Had someone seen me at the factory? Was I about to be charged with arson or some shit like that?
“I got a phone call from the governor’s office not half an hour ago,” he said. Then a bemused smile came over his face. “You’ve been pardoned.”
“I…Hunh? What?” I blinked. “What the hell?”
He shrugged. “Don’t ask me to explai
n it. But there’s no mistake. Trust me, I checked. Three times. Full pardon. Record expunged. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Then he leaned forward, expression fierce again. “I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but I swear to god, Angel, if you blow this and get into trouble again, I swear I’ll throttle you.”
I grinned. Then I laughed. Pietro Fucking Ivanov. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m not going to screw this up.”
I was even going to go ahead and take the damn GED. After all, I had a feeling that pretty soon I was going to need all the smarts I could stuff into my brain.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 30cf3839-4bbb-4f4d-94fa-9073744021a5
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 5.7.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.53, FB Editor v2.3 software
Document authors :
Bakoro
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues wtz-2 Page 25
