Keep Your Crowbar Handy (Book 4): Death and Taxes

by SP Durnin

  She nodded. “I... I can’t be totally sure, but…”

  “The night you sang with Ted and Dead Sexy,” Al supplied.

  “Uh...” She waffled. “Right...um…right around there. Somewhere.”

  Slow grins spread on their friends’ faces.

  “Oh, ye-e-e-eah.” Maggie tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I remember that night. Didn’t you and our glorious leader here skate out of the party early?”

  “Um…”

  Maggie’s expression turned wicked. “People wondered where you two got off to.”

  “Pppf. I didn’t have to wonder,” Ryker said straight-faced. “Did you see them on the dance floor? What’s that expression? ‘Dance how you—”

  “I know the one.” Kat actually blushed.

  While this was all going on, O’Connor sat calmly on the tailgate watching the show.

  “Um. Not to be overly needy, but I notice you haven’t said anything.” She licked her lips and took a step towards him. “Feel free to pipe in any time, because I’m really freaking out over here. Did you hear what I said? I’m…uh…pregnant?”

  Jake shrugged. “Okay, yeah. I already knew that.”

  “You already knew?” Now Kat’s jaw was the one hanging open. “How?”

  He took a swig of Guinness. “Funny story: Barker might be a whiz at patching up stab wounds, and bullet wounds…and when it comes to experimenting with highly-regulated pharmaceuticals. For that matter…but he’s not so good with that whole ‘doctor/patient confidentiality’ thing. Come to find out? He was being sued, and was probably going to lose his license to practice for violating HIPPA regulations. But then the zombie apocalypse happened.”

  “Barker told you? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that quack!” Cho put a hand over her eyes. “What kind of GP is that guy?”

  He held up one finger. “Actually, he told Rae.”

  “Rae told you??” Kat gripped her short, blue hair with both hands in horror.

  “Right before we hit the road west.” O’Connor’s face was a blank mask. “She said I’d need to—and I quote—‘Make sure she doesn’t overexert herself, while in such a fragile condition.’ Also to remind you ‘To ensure optimal early-stage development, she’ll want to dial back on the excessive emotional outbursts because, knowing her, that would contribute to an unwanted retention of fluids, and cause a possibly permanent change in her mass-to-height ratio.’ End quote.”

  Cho’s eyes widened. “Wait. Rae thinks…I’ll get fat?”

  “Well…” Keeping a straight face was becoming difficult. “She didn’t use those exact words. I’m sure Rae’s just trying to be helpful. You know, like normal.”

  Kat fingers were knotted in her hair and she started to pant loudly.

  He almost cracked. “She suggested a few dietary changes you should make, too. Even with our limited supplies, there shouldn’t be—”

  “I’m gonna kill her.” Kat’s eyes tried to bug from their sockets as she paced back and forth rapidly. “I’m going to kill her! That blabber-mouthed…! I’ll drown her in the fucking fountain in front of the fucking Bellagio! No, can’t do that. She’s naturally buoyant with those boobs of hers. She’d float. I’ll throw her off the Sphinx! No, can’t do that either. If she hit face first, the knockers would act like airbags. She could end up bouncing down the damn Strip like a… Ooo! I know! I’ll…”

  Allan and Maggie were laughing helplessly at their livid friend as she stormed in circles behind the tailgate, all the while calling for Norris’s heart on a plate, until Jake finally took pity on her and got to his feet. Stepping in Cho’s path, he trapped her arms to her sides by wrapping her up in his own and—ignoring the number of healthy blows to his aching ribs she gave him—proceeded to speak to her calmly.

  “You know I’m teasing you, right?’ He soothed.

  “Stupid, know-it-all, over-developed cow!” Cho was still at it. “I’m gonna find a pair of those big, fucking hedge trimmers, and cut—”

  Jake put an end to the tirade by pressing his mouth to hers until the enraged mumbling ceased. When he broke the kiss, Kat was (almost) back to her normal self, but he figured he’d better keep a good hold on her. Just in case.

  “Hi. Now that the we’ve all got the irrational / blood-thirsty portion of this conversation out of our systems, how about you answer me three simple questions?” When she nodded, Jake frowned. “One. Why didn’t you tell me you thought you might be pregnant?”

  Kat looked guilty. “I wanted to. I almost did about a hundred times. But then that RUST guy and George had their fight. Then Hess attacked. And then those hordes attacked. And then…”

  “Let’s just say you were working up to it.” Jake closed his eyes. “We’ll leave it at that. Next question: Once Barker confirmed it for you, why did you put off telling me until we got to Vegas? I know. He’s a flake, so he could’ve been wrong. But even so, why didn’t you say something?”

  Kat tried to lower her gaze so she didn’t have to meet Jake’s, but he still had a hold of her. All she really did was get a good look at her cleavage. “I didn’t want to put any more stress on you. And I didn’t want you to feel pressured, to... I’m a big girl, so I can deal with it if... Look, I’m not even supposed to be able to get pregnant! I had the Mirena implant done via outpatient only a year ago, and they protect against conception for up to five!”

  Jake considered that. “Okay. You were scared. While I’m disappointed you thought I’d flip out, I can accept that too. Last Question: Are you still planning on stringing Rae up by her toes from that mini Eiffel Tower here, or can I tell George his brainy, pin-up girl is safe from any sudden, ninja-induced bouts of shortened mortality?”

  She didn’t respond, only glared at him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Don’t rush me! I’m thinking!”

  “Please consider my following point while you’re plotting the mayhem.” Jake let her go. “If Rae hadn’t been so free with Barker’s little tidbit of information…”

  Another glare. “You mean if she wasn’t such a Blabby McBlabber-mouth?”

  “Pots and black kettles, but let’s stay on topic. If she hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

  Three mouths dropped open as, after reaching into the lower right pocket of his combat vest, Jake assumed the position on one knee and held up a box. A small, box. A small, black velvet box, that had “Tiffany and Co.” stenciled on the top in gold text. When he opened it, the three-stone ring—with two blue diamonds and slightly larger one in traditional white—was nearly blinding in the late morning sunshine.

  “Katherine Brightfeather Cho. Will you marry me?”

  Kat couldn’t have been more surprised if a chupacabra rolled by on a unicycle. Juggling flaming poodles. In a thong. “Where did you…? How did you…?”

  “In the Bellagio shops, right next to the Armani Boutique. There’s a Louis Vuitton in there too, if you’re curious.” He looked sheepish. “And I bribed Bee to go through the pack you brought from your apartment with Laurel with that bag of weed we found while you and I were trapped by the horde in Wilmington, Ohio? You had an old mood ring in there—which we will talk about later—so I found one of these I thought you’d like in the same size. And you’ll have to thank Rae for that. She made a call to her contact in the Safe Zone, ‘Thunderbolt’? I guess the guy’s got pull, because he had one of the commanders here open the shop up for me. Something about a ‘Reward for Meritorious Service to the Nation’ for what we did in Pecos, since I’m not actually part of the military.”

  Allan and Maggie didn’t move. They were actually holding their breath as Kat stared wide-eyed at the ring. “We don’t have to, you know. I mean, lots of people have kids that aren’t married. You’re... I just don’t want you to look back on this moment in ten years and…”

  “Not just no, hell no!” he fumed. “You don’t get to think for one second that I feel like I’m being ‘guilted’ into this! I want it! I want you,
do you understand me? And for the record? I’m fully aware that you’re crazy, thank you very much, so you don’t get to use that as an excuse either! Fine, you’re crazy. But after what we’ve all been through? Personally I’m amazed every last one of us isn’t bug-fuck bonkers!”

  Cho couldn’t look away. “But—”

  Jake lost his temper and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Goddammit Kat, you are the love of my life! Now will you marry me!”

  People walking by had stopped to see what all the yelling was about and watch the outcome, but she hadn’t noticed them. All Kat could see was the anger and hurt and fear in the perpetually-shadowed eyes of the messy haired man kneeling there on the dirty Las Vegas street, literally begging for her to love him back.

  “Oh. Okay. Then my answer is… Hell yes, I will!” She said.

  O’Connor put the ring on her finger to the onlookers’ cheers (along with quite a few catcalls and wolf-whistles), then picked her up bodily and twirled them around as he had the first time he’d heard her sing. Kat for her part, punched both arms to the sky and let out a scream of joy or happiness or victory. Or maybe it was all three. A cry that winged up to the heavens, thanking the sky-beasts for turning their vicious eyes away from the one person she couldn’t live without. When Jake finally put her feet back on Terra Firma, Kat took a two-handed grip on his tac-vest, yanked him roughly against her, and glued their mouths together. The onlookers went wild again as their kiss stretched on and on, and neither of them heard a thing.

  When they finally broke apart enough to see silly grins on each other’s faces, the crowd had dispersed. Only Allan and Maggie remained, leaning on the rusting Ford’s tailgate companionably.

  “Read the inscription,” Jake told her.

  Pulling off the ring, Cho squinted at the lettering on inside of the band. She read it aloud as Maggie wiped at her tearing eyes. “Watashi wa anata no yo.”

  Allan quirked an eyebrow. “And for those of us who don’t speak Japanese, that means...?”

  The pretty ninja’s eyes went back up to Jake’s. “I’m yours.”

  “Yep,” Jake told her simply.

  Slipping the ring on firmly back onto her finger, Kat looked up at him. “I’m never going to take this off.”

  * * *

  “Why do I need this again?” Jake inspected the image looking back at him from the mirror. He had to admit, the tuxedo didn’t look half bad. “It feels like my bowtie is strangling me.”

  Allan, Gwen, Henry, and George showed him no sympathy at all. He’d only tried on half a dozen. Sampson had O’Connor turn around a few times to see how the tux moved on his frame, and nodded with satisfaction. Finally deeming it worth wearing too, Gwen insisted that he trade his red cummerbund for a blue one. Jake told her he was afraid it would clash with Kat’s hair, but the look Gwen gave him forestalled further arguments on his part.

  He’d wear the blue one.

  * * *

  Bee, Maggie, Rae, and Mark (who was along for a man’s opinion), waited in the nearly untouched storefront that had been the Couture Bridal Boutique for Gertrude to finish helping Kat into her fourteenth dress of the day.

  “They’ve all been great,” he said, obviously bored with being the “token male.” “Two or three were really pretty, but she keeps putting them back.”

  Bee gave him a pitying look, and silently mouthed ‘men!’ to Maggie when Mark wasn’t looking.

  “It’s not about being just ‘pretty,’ Mark.” Rae told him patiently.

  “Damn right.” Maggie had gotten into the spirit of this endeavor. So much so, that the others believed Al would suffer the same fate as Jake very soon. “It’s about showing up looking so fine, your guy doesn’t know whether he should drop to his knees and thank his lucky stars such a woman agreed to marry him, or toss you over his shoulder and take you for a quickie in the nearest confessional while the guests wait.”

  Weaver didn’t look convinced, but since his fiancée was helping Jake pick out an outfit—-so his time was coming too—he didn’t say a word.

  “We’re ready, ladies. And you too Mark,” Gertie called from behind the dressing curtains.

  Kat’s voice followed. “I’m still not sure about this one. What do you all think?”

  The curtain was pulled aside and everyone took in her latest “possible.”

  “Wow!” Mark was staring.

  “Noice!” Bee gave her stamp of approval with a “rock-hand” salute.

  Maggie pointed. “Ladies, we have a winner.”

  “That is stunning!” Rae turned her head slightly to get a better view.

  “Wow!” Mark repeated.

  * * *

  Their wedding was performed next to the fountains of the Bellagio observation pool, on the west side of Las Vegas Blvd. The fountains were no longer running, there were no chairs or extravagant decorations set up, and no dress code either, but O’Connor and Cho’s friends did their best.

  Allan (in a tuxedo of his own) stood beside Jake, looking quite dapper as he winked at Maggie. She wore a light blue bridesmaid’s dress, reminiscent of a Roman toga, that belted around the muscular blonde’s waist and under her bodice with a slender silver cord.

  Rae stood in a blue Gucci number with Gertrude (who was sporting some reserved Prada-wear), comparing thoughts on what operating system she should use to replace the outdated one on the Mimi.

  Leo (in a Gucci suit that looked a bit large on his lanky frame) and Bee (also in a blue toga-like number of her own) stood holding hands, plotting ways to sneak up to the penthouse of the Luxor. With her bong. To use the hot tub.

  Finally, Sampson and Szimanski—standing arm-in-arm with his girlfriend, Kari (also in Prada)—wearing suits borrowed from the Fendi down the street. After seeing the slim ex-salvage team leader in his suit, Kari told Ryan quite firmly that he was not returning it.

  Jake had finally combed his perpetually-messy hair as he’d donned his tux, but it hadn’t done much good. The nervous man still looked like Goku’s Caucasian brother as he stood there (waiting for Kat and Foster to appear) with Allan and the military chaplain, who wore gold-rimmed sunglasses, a black wig, and a white, bell-bottomed, sequin-covered jumpsuit.

  This was the one thing Kat had insisted upon. That whoever the clergyman was that performed the service be dressed as Elvis.

  Foster surprised them all, and showed up to walk Cho down the aisle in a freshly-pressed naval dress uniform, complete with a chestful of medals. He’d actually spit-shined his boots too. And shaved. The older man’s ever-present, two-day scruff was history, and it made him younger. Not a lot. But it made an impression on Rae. She pretended to ignore him, and did her best not to drool all over all herself upon seeing the dashing figure George cut while in uniform.

  When Jake’s bride-to-be stepped from the Mon Ami Gabi opposite the fountains (they’d used the now-closed restaurant as her “wedding prep room”) on Foster’s arm, he got a healthy case of the jitters. When the pair crossed Las Vegas Blvd. and drew nearer the ceremony site, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.

  Opting against a “traditional” wedding dress, Kat chose a black lace rose lined sheath, Cheongsam-style number that hugged her form like a silky, second skin. Semi-transparent lace made up its short cap sleeves and Mandarin collar, which gave the appearance she showed far more skin than she actually did. The dress was backless, and a slit ran up each side to the bottom of Kat’s hips. O’Connor could see she’d decided against any kind of “foofy formal footwear,” going instead for her trusty, knee-high biker boots instead. When George passed her off to him and took a place with Rae nearby, O’Connor still couldn’t breathe. He looked an overdressed orangutan in his tuxedo.

  Kat looked like a goddess.

  “Great tux,” she murmured. “Nice and tight across the bottom. I like it.”

  Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You look amazing. Those boots are you. And I love that dress.”

  “You say the sweetest thi
ngs.” Kat’s smile was dazzling. “Why don’t we do this, so you can peel me out of this dress you love so much. Yeah?”

  He turned with her to face the chaplain. “An army of zombies couldn’t keep me away.”

  -EPILOGUE-

  …and once we all recovered from some truly impressive hangovers, we headed on for the West Coast.

  After about two months decompressing, and a lot of quality time with my wife—who looks just as sexy in a bikini, half-covered in sand in the surf, as I always knew she would—I was approached by General “Thunderbolt” Norris (who turned out to be Rae’s frikkin’ father!) and I ended up attached to the Safe Zone’s newly revamped Department of Defense as a “Zombie Survival and Improvisational Tactics advisor.” Benefits are great and I have a lot of freedom to do the job the way I think it needs to be done, but the paperwork is a bitch. Then again, it’s better than fighting zombies every damn day to stay alive.

  I don’t know how Leo and Bee keep doing it, to tell you the truth. They’ve been running joint expeditions with Pecos, putting down the dead, and trying to secure a corridor between Texas and the Safe Zone. Flying twice a month over all that zombie-occupied territory like they do would be bad enough, but going into infected areas just to take a look around? We talked about the risks of doing so last time we had Ryan and Kari over for dinner, and were all in complete agreement on that particular subject. Our feelings can be summed up by two words: Fuck. That.

  We got a call from Henry last week. He met a guy named Juan in LA, while supervising the new resettlement projects north of the Valley. They’re moving in together and he reminded me to get Kat an anniversary gift.

  Like I’d forget!

  Allan and Maggie stopped by today. They’re going to visit his family again for a few weeks, and wanted us to come along. We might. I could spin it as a way to “provide first-hand intelligence on the northern boundary.” So getting a go-ahead from the higher-ups will be a piece of cake We’ll catch a ride back on one of the supply flights before the weather turns cold. Alaska is nice I suppose, but neither of us want to freeze our butts off up there all winter.