I meet the rest in the other room. “Lord, it smells in there.”
“So, what do we do now?” Nancy asks.
“Want me to incinerate her?” Irie asks.
I gasp. “You will do no such thing!”
“Bea, that isn’t a little girl in there, it’s a walking corpse,” Irie says.
“She’s not hurting anybody.”
“What? You want to adopt the little zombie in there? She’s dead!”
“In her mind, she’s just a little girl. I doubt she even knows she’s dead.”
“We are not killing the child,” Will says. Finally, someone with a conscience. “We may need to use her as bait.” Maybe not. “If he is following us, then he knows we’re here, and he’ll know we have her. We take her with us and lock her up in mobile command. Agreed?”
“Whatever,” Irie says, “but I’m not babysitting.”
“Fine. Alexander, get some of her things to keep her calm and bring her upstairs to the car. Nancy, go with them back to mobile command. Irie and I will keep searching the house.”
“We can’t do this. It’s wrong. She’s a little girl, not a—a chess piece. What are we going to do? Threaten to harm her if he doesn’t do what we say? How does that make us any better than him?”
“We didn’t bring her into this, Walter Wayland did,” Will says. “Now, he is out there, and you of all people know what he is capable of. It is our duty to do whatever we have to, to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else. If that includes keeping the zombie as a hostage, then so be it.”
“She’s an innocent little girl!”
“This is what we’re doing,” Will almost roars. “If you have a problem with doing what is necessary then perhaps you better re-think your job here. Get her things!”
We glare at each other for a few tense seconds before I lose the battle and look away. Damn it. “Whatever you say, boss,” I say, passing without looking at him. Emma turns from the TV to me, pointing to the screen with a huge black smile for me. I know she can’t see me but I smile back. “Yes, Mickey Mouse. I like him too, sweetie.” She turns back to the TV, hugging her stuffed bunny tight. I walk over to her and bend down beside her, doing my best to ignore the smell. Hesitantly, I pet her dry hair, and she beams at me. God knows how long she’s been down here all alone, waiting for her father to return, and now I’m going to kidnap her. It’s enough to break my heart. I sigh.
She’s the zombie, but I’m the monster now.
THIRTEEN
THE BEST LAID PLANS
It seems that all children, dead or alive, hate doctors. Poor Emma grunted, squirmed, and even threw a temper tantrum during Dr. Neill’s exam. I had to physically hold her down and sing while Neill drew clumpy embalming fluid. As if this child hasn’t gone through enough. I didn’t know zombies could feel pain. To make matters worse Agent Chandler insisted she stay in the freezer with a guard. Guess who volunteered? At least they turned the thermostat up so I only have to wear one huge puffy coat. When the doc left for the evening, I opened the door. Being surrounded by claw marks and dents with a dead child is just a bit more than I can take right now.
At least Emma’s calmed down. No more grunting and pulling out her hair. If You Give a Moose a Muffin seems to have a soothing effect, but I should have grabbed more books. I’ve read the four I brought with us twice. I’m tempted to pull Advanced Forensic Techniques out of the conference room. Dr. Neill seems to think Emma doesn’t understand the words, only the inflection, like a baby. If we have to wait for Wayland much longer, I may end up giving forensic science a storybook voice.
We’re drawing now. Well, I’m drawing, and she’s making blobs. This sure beats running around with a machete though. Maybe this can be my job from now on, babysitting. We both look up when the door to medical opens. Carl with my McDonald’s? Thank God, I’m starving—but instead Oliver steps in, and my stomach clenches. A weird, gut-wrenching thought pops into my head. He’s probably seen me naked.
“I heard we had a visitor.” Emma hisses like a cockroach when he walks toward us. “Lovely child. She has your eyes.”
“Shut up, Oliver. Emma, it’s okay,” I say, smoothing her hair. More than a few strands come out in my hand. “He’s a friend, he won’t hurt you.” I smooth and shush until, after a few seconds, she stops. “Good girl,” I whisper. “Now keep drawing, I’ll just be in the other room.” I put the crayon back in her hand. Oliver follows me out. “You probably shouldn’t go back in there. You upset her.”
“Whatever you say, my dear. I have no desire to impede on your bonding session. I just came to make sure you had recovered from last night. You do seem to have improved since I last saw you.”
The way he says it, along with his eyes roving my body, makes me goosepimply all over. He totally saw me naked. “I’m doing better, thanks.” I pause. “You went above and beyond for me last night. Not many guys would stay with me like you did, especially after the way I’ve been treating you. You were really sweet.”
“‘Sweet?’” he asks with that smirk. “I do not believe in all my days a soul has called me that.”
“Well, it’s true. You were a perfect gentleman. Like a human being, even.”
“We all have our humane moments, I suppose.” He leans toward me. “Though if you are, by any chance, looking for a way to repay me, there is an empty conference room with a sturdy table in the next room.”
I click my tongue. “Just had to ruin it, didn’t you?”
“You bring it out in me, my dear.”
“Will this sate you?” Cupping his chin in my hands, I plant a chaste kiss on his cold cheek. Of course the door opens just as I do it, and Nancy peeks in. I pull away instantly.
“Oops. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Here’s your dinner.” She tosses the bag and shuts the door, glaring at me the whole time.
I roll my eyes. “Wonderful. Now I’m the office slut.”
That grin is back. “If only that were true.”
“Zip it. There are children present.”
Emma, hearing the door, steps out of the freezer with her drawing. I push her back in before the hissing starts again. “Go on, sweetie,” I whisper before returning to Oliver. “I think she’s waiting for her dad to come and get her.”
He folds his arms. “We all are, are we not? I do hope he takes the bait. It will bring me intense pleasure to snap that madman’s neck.”
I gaze at Emma coloring purple swirls on her paper. “Want to know something weird? I totally understand why he did it. All of it.”
“You lost a child?”
I turn back to him. “No, but I’d die to protect one. It’s how I got into this mess.”
“And the deluge last night, you understand that?” he asks, incredulously.
“I understand. I don’t condone.”
“Well, I spent the remainder of last night manipulating the minds of an entire town, most in wretched shape. I do not understand nor condone. This man is little better than a rabid dog and should be treated as such. Remember what his wife and her lover became in the end? He will not hesitate, and did not, to do the same to us all.”
“I know that. I just—I feel bad for Emma. All she wants is her father, and I can’t give him to her. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“My dear, I think you should take a break from the child. You are growing far too attached. We will have to put her back. You must keep in mind she is nothing more than a re-animated corpse.”
“So are you. Are you saying I shouldn’t get attached to you either?”
“I believe it is a bit too late for that, is it not?”
Before I can quip back, and I have a good one too, the door opens. Carl pokes his head in. “Guys, the necro’s on the phone.”
“Really?” We file out and into the open conference room. Nancy and Agents Chandler and Wolfe are already waiting around the table with the black phone in the middle. Agent Chandler presses the speakerphone button. “This is the agent in charge.”
“I’ll ask again, do you have my daughter?”
“Who is this?”
“Who the fuck do you think it is? Do you have my daughter?”
“Yes. She’s safe.”
“Good, then I won’t have to kill your friend here.”
“What friend?”
“The blind one.”
“Oh God,” Nancy says, “he has Andrew. You son of a bitch! I’ll rip your dic—”
“Calm down,” says Agent Chandler. “How do we know you’re not lying or haven’t killed him already?”
A second later, “I’m all right,” says Andrew. “Please don’t—”
“That’s enough,” Wayland says. “So we’ll keep this simple: yours for mine. I want the one with the glasses to bring Emma to Highland Cemetery outside Sunbeam, about half an hour outside of town. You have an hour.”
“No. We meet on neutral ground.”
“Excuse me? Who do you think is making the rules here? Don’t think I won’t kill him. Highland Cemetery, my girl. If I see anybody else, I kill him.” The line goes dead.
“Shit,” Agent Chandler says under his breath. “How the hell did this happen?”
“He was following us. He knows where we’re staying,” I say.
“I am so not going to a cemetery alone,” Nancy says.
“You won’t,” Carl says. “I’m calling Will.” He whips out his cell.
“Another cemetery. Who’s up for an ambush?” Agent Wolfe asks.
“You are no doubt correct,” Oliver says.
“Maybe we should just do what he says,” Agent Chandler chimes in. “If only Nancy and the zombie go, then … no, that won’t work. She can’t teleport both her and Andrew out if something goes wrong.”
“Will and Irie will be here any second,” Carl says. “He says to sit tight.”
“I am not going! I don’t care!” Nancy shouts. Everyone shuts up.
Oliver moves to her and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Of course you are not. Not alone.”
“He’s right,” I say, “she can’t go alone. Nobody can. He killed one of us already. If we give him what he wants, he’ll raise the cemetery just to keep us busy while he gets away. Or if we try to trick him, he’ll raise the cemetery anyway. He’s going to do it either way.”
“So what do we do? Not show up and let him kill Andrew?” Carl asks.
“What do you think, my dear?” Oliver asks me. “You seem to know the most about our villain.”
All right, why are all eyes on me? Everyone in the cramped room stares, waiting for my next word. What do I look like, General Patton? I suck at Risk, I’m always the first one out. Plan. We need a plan. Okay, I can do this. “Um, of course we show up. But … um … we … go prepared. Flamethrowers, machetes, anything we can use. People wait in strategic locations to cover both the meet and entire cemetery.”
“He’s probably drained from last night, so he might not be able to raise as many as he did before,” Carl adds.
“But there’s no, like, guarantee,” Nancy says.
“What we really need to do is get him to neutral ground,” I say. “So we shouldn’t bring Emma; we need him to come back here.”
“If he will not?”
“Then … ah … ” I look to the room for help. “Oh! Nancy! You can teleport in and tranq him before he does anything.”
Eyes move to her. “I can do that.”
“Good! Okay! So the second we see Andrew isn’t in danger, you pop in and shoot him.”
“If he’s hiding Andrew or realizes his kid isn’t there?” Agent Wolfe asks.
“Then he does his thing but we’re ready with flamethrowers and stuff. But Nancy still shoots him. We don’t want him getting away, and someone can always get Andrew’s location out of him.”
“With pleasure,” Oliver says, emotionless.
I meet his eyes, getting a chill. “Um, okay, so the first thing we—”
The opening door stops me mid-sentence. A serious Will, Irie, and Agent Rushmore step in. They’ve been ripping apart the Wayland house looking for clues. “Okay, people, we need a plan,” Will says the moment he steps in. “Nancy is—”
“We already have a plan,” Agent Wolfe says.
“What?”
“Dear sweet Trixie here apparently has an untapped diabolical mind,” Oliver says. “We send someone to confront the fiend and allow Nancy to tranquilize him.”
“Yes, but what if he—”
“We’re around the cemetery, out of sight, weapons ready,” Agent Chandler says. “It should work, sir.”
Will glances at me and squares his shoulders. “Fine. Someone fill us in, and the rest get ready. There isn’t much time.”
“But who’s the one to meet him?” Carl asks. “He could see we don’t have the girl and shoot whoever’s in front of him.”
“Agent Alexander,” Will says.
Now all eyes are on me. My mouth gapes open. “Well, I suppose—”
“Good,” Will says. “Chandler, come fill us in. The rest of you get as many weapons as you can. Make sure you replace the tranqs from last night with something less potent. We don’t want to kill the man if we can help it.” He walks out with Irie and Agent Chandler behind.
“What’s his problem?” Nancy asks when the door closes.
“Trixie stole his thunder, damaged his frail ego.” He moves behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, and whispers, “Do not worry, my dear, he will get over it.”
I shrug his hands away. “We have work to do.”
I walk out, head high, but biting my lip. Mind in the game, Bea. Don’t let some furry, cute jerk get to you, not tonight. Forget about it. I’ll think about it tomorrow. That is, if I survive the night.
——
“Radio check, one, two. Team three, check.”
“Team one in place,” says Irie over the radio.
“Team two, check,” Carl says.
“Team four ready and waiting,” I say, putting the walkie back onto the seat next to me. “How many checks is he going to do?”
“He’s nervous and totally impatient,” Nancy says from the back seat of the car. The huge tranquilizer gun rests in her lap. She should be lying on the floor out of sight but after twenty minutes there, her complaints finally wore down my last nerve. “How much time now?”
“Two minutes since you last asked. He still has ten more minutes.”
We’re parked right on the edge of the cemetery in the lot facing the road. I’m about to jump out of my skin I’m so nervous and (yes) impatient. If something is going to happen, I want it to happen already. If I’m going to be shot or eaten, let’s just get it out of the way. My fingers haven’t stopped drumming the wheel since we left mobile command. That feeling of dread grows with each drum. The ambiance isn’t helping either. I swear the guy picked the biggest, creepiest cemetery in the country. Headstones and even old crypts and mausoleums as far as the eye can see (which isn’t far) are packed in together with huge trees crackling and swaying with the wind. All that’s missing is the mist from the moors and a howling wolf. Even if he only raises a quarter of it, we’ll still have double the amount we had last night. If everything doesn’t go according to plan, we’re dead meat. Literally.
“Come on! Get here already!” Nancy says. “This sucks! I’m so bored!”
“He’ll show.”
“Good for him. Just wish he’d do it soon.” She sighs a deep, theatrical sigh. “So … you and Oliver already, huh?”
“What? No!”
“But you totally kissed him.”
“On the cheek! Just the cheek. He was nice to me last night, and I was thanking him, that’s all.”
“Well, good. Keep it that way. ’Cause Will and Oliver already totally hate each other’s guts. Don’t need to make it worse.”
“And how exactly could I make it worse?”
She scoffs like I’m the valedictorian of Idiot University. “Duh! Will totally has a crush on you! I mean he, like, act
ually talks to you. And smiles. I didn’t know he could do that!”
“Nancy, he volunteered me for the most dangerous job, I think the romance is off. Not to mention I literally make his skin crawl.”
“Well, no relationship’s perfect. You would totally make a good couple.”
“I barely know him. Besides, he doesn’t think of me that way.”
“Yeah right, and you so don’t have a crush on him. Hey, maybe if you sleep with him, he’ll actually loosen up and I can, like, have friends over. I know he was the one who talked George out of the idea. He could use a good lay. So could you, for that matter.”
“Nancy!” A faint streak of light shines in the distance. Headlights? Thank you, lord. My executioner’s here. “Get down and cover yourself,” I say. “I think he’s coming. Keep the radio on.”
“Got it.” She lays on the back seat, rifle clutched to her chest.
Showtime.
I climb out of the car and take a deep breath. This will work. It will all work out. Just stay calm. You can handle anything he throws at you. Yeah, right. The light grows in intensity with each moment, as does my oncoming heart attack. A small sedan comes down the road and stops near my car. The mass murderer drives a Volvo. Why does this not surprise me? The engine cuts. The driver doesn’t get out for several tense seconds. Is he going to turn around? What do we do then? But the door does open and Walter Wayland steps out.
This is our notorious killer? In front of the headlights where he stands, I can tell he’s maybe a few inches taller than I am with a round stomach pouching out over denim. His round glasses cover most of his ruddy face and his bald head shines. No wonder Valerie had an affair.
“You aren’t the one I said to come,” he says. “If I wanted you, I would have asked for the chubby one.”
Oh yeah, this man is pure evil. “We aren’t about to send a
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