Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues wtz-2

by Diana Rowland

  Pain and guilt spasmed across his face, and I instantly felt guilty for bringing up that time. Though in the next instant I reminded myself that he was the one who’d actually brought it up.

  “Look, Dad,” I said, lowering my voice and uncrossing my arms. “The thing is, you and me, we’re a couple of fuckups, but at least right now we’re trying to not fuck up quite so often.” I shrugged. “Besides, if it makes you feel better, he was also the cop who arrested me for having that stolen car.”

  He grumbled, but some of the anger left his face. “It just don’t feel right cozying up like that to a cop.”

  “Dad, Marcus is the one who helped me get off drugs and got me the job I have.”

  He gave me a look of surprise. “Why the hell would he do that?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Probably trying to get into your pants.”

  Hmm, so maybe now wasn’t the time to tell my dad that Marcus and I had dated. Hell, we were broken up now anyway, so maybe it didn’t make any difference now. “No, he just thought I had potential and had gotten a raw deal.” I looked back down at the paper. “We’re friends now,” I said, while hoping it was still true. “And I was giving him a hug because a friend of ours had just been killed.” I looked up and met my dad’s eyes. “Can’t you understand that?”

  “I’m not a fuckin’ monster, Angel,” he replied, voice gruff. “I’ve dealt with my own share of grief, y’know.”

  Sighing, I nodded. I knew he was talking about Mom. She’d been the love of his life, and he would have done absolutely anything for her. But she’d also been mentally ill and terribly abusive and neglectful of me, and when my dad had been forced to make a choice between the two of us, he chose me.

  My dad blew out his breath and sank down onto the couch. “Look, I’m the kinda guy who holds a grudge. Go and hug on him all you want, but don’t expect me to not get pissed.”

  My calm evaporated. “Dad, that’s fucked up. If you want to spend your whole life being angry at people, fine, but some day you’re gonna turn around and realize that there’s no one left for you to like, because you’re determined to be some sort of unforgiving hardass.” I shook my head in disgust and stomped back to my room. “Y’know what?” I called back over my shoulder. “I may go see if I can find someone who’s pissed me off, just so that I can make nice with them.”

  So, of course, after being all high and mighty and above reproach with my dad, I felt like a bit of a jackass that I was still mad at Marcus. It didn’t seem right that it had only been one day since Marcus and I had our big fight. It also felt odd that I didn’t have the automatic assumption that this was just a “thing,” and that it would pass, and that we would of course get back together again. That’s how most of my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, Randy, had been. We’d dated on and off for years, with a thousand breakups in that time. Yet we’d never split up over the sort of things that needed to be talked out or worked through in order to save a relationship or make it stronger. Our breakups had always ended when one of us had simply grown tired of being alone. Never any fanfare or celebration or deep talks. Simply slipping back into the same old routines—same old ruts, I knew now.

  But this thing with Marcus was different. I was different. At least I hoped so. If I was going to be with Marcus—and, to be honest, I wasn’t certain if that was what I wanted—I wanted it to be a real relationship. A partnership. Yeah, two people growing up and growing old together. That sort of thing. I thought it was possible with Marcus but certainly not the way we were now.

  Did that mean it was a good sign that I was suddenly itching to call him and talk things out? I didn’t want to write him out of my life. I do want this to work.

  Or maybe I was a stubborn deluded twit who didn’t know how to let bad things go. My history could certainly prove that true.

  On the other hand, I did have stuff that I wanted to tell him—stuff I thought he really did need to know. I finally settled for sending him a text, still somehow feeling as if I was breaking some unspoken rule by being the first to cave.

  Need to talk to you re headhunter pls. Also stuff re body theft. Important.

  I hit send and sighed. Would he read this as me apologizing? Because, honestly, I wasn’t ready to apologize for anything. I didn’t think I needed to. Again, was I being a stubborn twit?

  I watched my phone like a hawk for nearly ten minutes, and right when I’d decided he was going to blow me off it dinged with an incoming text.

  But it was from Ben, not Marcus.

  Body in coffin. No head. Prints match Zeke Lyons. Fuck my life.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Poor Ben. I had no idea how the authorities would end up explaining this. However they did it, I had a feeling it would involve lots of lying.

  It was another five minutes before my phone dinged again, this time with a response from Marcus.

  Sorry, was on a call. Meet at Fowler street boat launch after I get off shift at 8?

  Relief began to unknot the tension in my back. Sure thing.

  The boat launch was deserted at this time of night, but sodium vapor lights had been installed a few years back that kept the large gravel lot from being too creepy. Still, I parked well away from the water’s edge and stayed in my car with the doors locked. The mere fact that no one had ever seen gators or giant squid or other nasty beasts in the Kreeger River didn’t mean there wasn’t something lurking in that dark water, waiting for someone to get too close.

  Yes, this zombie was a bit of a scaredy cat.

  I brought the GED study guide to pass the time and was struggling through the section on gerunds when Marcus’s cruiser pulled into the gravel lot. I quickly marked my place and stuffed the book under a jacket, climbing out of my car just as he got out of his. He was still in uniform. Damn, he sure did rock it.

  We both stood awkwardly for a few seconds before I finally blurted, “Thanks for coming to talk to me.”

  He nodded stiffly. “I’ve been worried about you.” I opened my mouth to speak but he lifted a hand. “And not because I think you can’t take care of yourself, because I know you can. There’s just a lot of weird shit going on…” He paused, took a breath. “And I do care about you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, voice a little rough. “I care about you too.” The awkward silence threatened to descend again, and I hurried on. “I saw Ed yesterday.”

  Marcus stiffened visibly, eyes narrowing. “Where? Did you call it in?”

  “At my house,” I said. “And no, I didn’t call it in. Because I didn’t know how to explain why he’d be coming to my house, or why I might have more reason than most other people to feel threatened by him.”

  His jaw tightened in a grimace. “Okay. I can understand that. But still, if you saw him near your house—”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I said. “He confronted me.” I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “Marcus, it was really….odd.” I quickly related what had happened, complete with him holding me at gunpoint, his insistence that he didn’t kill Marianne, and his question about why I didn’t kill him.

  Marcus scowled blackly when I finished. “I don’t like it. He’s playing some sort of game.”

  “But what? He could have shot me so easily,” I said. “He didn’t. And, I gotta be honest, I never did think he killed Marianne.”

  His scowl didn’t lessen. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t want to believe he’s innocent. He shot me in the head, remember?”

  “Yeah yeah yeah, and he shot me twice in the chest,” I retorted. “But we’re zombies. Marianne isn’t.”

  “I still don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either,” he shot back.

  I threw up my hands. “Who the hell said I was trusting him, Marcus? Would you please give me some goddamn credit? I’m merely saying that maybe we shouldn’t have tunnel vision and maybe think about the fucking possibility that someone else killed Marianne! We at least owe her that much!” I realized I was shouting. I took a deep breath to get some control, defiantly
crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned back against my car.

  Anger pulsed behind his eyes, but to my surprise he gave me a jerky nod. “You’re right. It’s not fair to her. So what info do you have on your holdup?”

  “I went to NuQuesCor yesterday—”

  “Angel, for the love of god! I told you—”

  “Would you shut up and let me talk?!” My hands had curled into fists, and I was breathing hard. “Fucking hell, Marcus! You’re so convinced I’m a goddamn idiot that needs to be watched over and babysat that you never give me any fucking credit for good judgment!” Suddenly I didn’t want to go through this anymore. He wasn’t going to take me seriously. He would dismiss my identification of the security guy as surely as Ben did. “Forget it,” I said, turning and heading for my car door. “You’re just as bad as everyone else. I’m the loser felon chick who can’t be trusted and has to be protected from herself.”

  He must have poured on the zombie speed because all of a sudden he was there, his hand on mine as I reached for the door handle. “Angel, please,” he said, voice low. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, I swear I am.” He lifted a hand and gently wiped at my face, and I abruptly realized that I was crying.

  Well, try harder, I wanted to growl, but I knew that would be petty and useless. Instead I took a deep breath in what I already knew was a doomed effort to keep my voice steady. “I went to the lab and pretended to apply for a job,” I told him. “While I was there I heard the head of security, Walter McKinney, and I’m almost positive that’s the guy who stole the body.”

  I looked up into his face, searching for any sign he believed me. But he kept his expression emotionless and I couldn’t tell either way. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll look into it.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not asking you to look into it. I just want you to believe me.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “Can I do both? Look, my uncle and Sofia still think that Zeke Lyons was working for a rival faction that was trying to steal Sofia’s research. If that’s the case then maybe this McKinney character was working for these rebels.”

  “Rebels?” My lips twitched. “Seriously? A rebel alliance of zombies?”

  Marcus didn’t share my amusement. “It’s a serious issue, Angel. Whoever has access to an alternate source of brains is going to be practically unstoppable.”

  That killed my amusement. “Okay, so you’re looking at warring factions of zombies fighting for control of the fake brains that can make them superundeadhumans.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why can’t they just fucking share?”

  “Well, my uncle disagrees with the goals and policies of these other zombies. He feels it’s important for us to remain on our guard against other zombie hunters and—”

  I drew back. “So this is all politics? Are you shitting me?”

  “No, it’s not all politics,” he replied, anger tingeing his voice. “Even an improved supply of brains won’t make us invincible. There will still be people who think we’re monsters. It’s important to maintain a low profile and make sure that the zombie population is controlled, as well as the supply of brains.”

  I could see that this was about to degenerate into the same argument we’d had before, and I didn’t have the energy or will to go there again. “Has Sofia managed to successfully make these replacement brains yet?”

  A flicker of a grimace passed over his face. “She says she’s had a few hiccups, but she feels confident that she’s close.” he said. He offered me a smile. “Just think, soon you might not be tied to working in a morgue for the rest of your life.”

  I didn’t bother to point out that I liked working there. Because as much as that was true, I also knew I’d jump on the chance to not have to work there. “I still don’t understand how Zeke could be alive—or dead, rather—if his head was chopped off.”

  “That one has me baffled too,” he admitted. “But I think that’s even more evidence that this other faction of zombies is making strides with their own research.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “There’s so much we still don’t know about how the parasite works.” His phone beeped, and he pulled it off his belt to peer at the screen. “I need to run.” He looked back up at me. “Please—and I swear this isn’t me trying to babysit you—please resist the urge to poke at this. You got caught in the middle completely by accident. I doubt that the guy who stole the body had any idea you were a zombie.” He squeezed my shoulders. “I don’t want you to become a target.”

  “You’ll ask Sofia about McKinney?”

  He looked like he wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. “I will. Promise. I’m heading to Lafayette tonight to visit my folks, but I’ll get up with her before I go.”

  “All right then,” I said. “I’ll stop poking at the lab stuff.”

  He smiled, and for an instant I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he simply released me and turned and headed back to his car. I watched as he drove off, then climbed into my own.

  Good thing I was a lying, untrustworthy bitch. ’Cause there was no fucking way I was letting this shit go. Not as long as I was the one being slammed in the news. Both the zombie mafia and the rebel zombie alliance could suck my white trash undead ass.

  Chapter 18

  I slept late enough to feel almost rested, and went on in to work my noon shift. However, when I swiped my card at the back morgue entrance, the card reader stubbornly refused to let me in and instead kept blinking a “fuck you” red light at me. Scowling, I got back in my car—’cause I was lazy like that—and drove around to the front.

  The receptionist, Rebecca, gave me a bright smile as I walked in. “Hi, sweetheart. Don’t normally see you coming through this way.”

  “Yeah, there’s something wrong with my card,” I said. “Can you buzz me through?”

  The smile slipped from her face. “Of course.” She bit her lip as she looked at something on her desk. “There’s a message here for you to see Allen when you come in.” Her eyes were shadowed with worry, and I didn’t need a high school diploma to put the pieces together. Card not working and a note to see my supervisor?

  “Have I been fired?” I managed to ask.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’d better not have been!” she announced, but there was a shimmer of doubt in her eyes as she pressed the button to let me in.

  The door buzzed, and I went on through, anger and dismay fighting it out in a hard knot within my chest. I began to head down the hallway to Allen’s office, but Rebecca reached out and stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “No matter what happens, you’ll always have friends here, darlin’.”

  I forced out a smile for her. She gave me a little pat, then turned back to her desk. I continued on to Allen’s office, deeply grateful when I didn’t run into anyone else on the way.

  His door was open. I didn’t bother knocking on the doorframe or anything polite like that. I simply came in and plopped down in the chair in front of the desk. “Hi, Allen. My card isn’t working. And I have a message to see you. Have I been fired?” And hey, I managed to say it without sounding like I was about to burst into tears.

  He frowned at the still open door, but I wasn’t about to get up and close it so that he could say the bullshit he had to say in private.

  “You’re not fired,” he said, returning his gaze to me.

  “But?” Because it was obvious there was a gigantic “but” coming.

  His mouth tightened into a thin line. “But…the coroner feels that it would be best to let all of this…messiness blow over.”

  “You mean until after the election’s over?” I said. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket. I wanted to hide that they were clenched to keep them from shaking. The election was over three months away. If I was super careful I might be able to make my stash of brains last that long. But then what if he loses? His opponents were nobodies, and he was heavily favored to win, but stranger things had happened. And why would his replacement possibly want to take a chance o
n hiring me?

  Allen leaned back. “You’re taking a leave of absence for personal reasons. Once Dr. Duplessis secures the re-election, you’ll have the option to return from your leave to your former position.” He cleared his throat. “Of course it would be unpaid leave. I’m sorry to say that you haven’t been with us long enough to have that much vacation time.”

  I stared at him while everything he said tumbled over in my head. “Wow,” I finally said. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Haven’t you been reading the papers?” he asked with a snide curl of his lip. “It’s been on the front page since the incident.”

  “Yes, I’ve been reading the papers,” I shot back. “Despite what you think of me, I’m not illiterate. I totally expected that at some point I was going to get fucked. What I didn’t expect was to be asked to fuck myself.” I stood up, aware that I was beginning to shout, but I had no desire to control myself. “Well, you know what? It’s not going to happen. I’m not going to meekly take myself off so that the coroner can avoid a nonexistent scandal. I was held up at fucking gunpoint! Why the fuck doesn’t he grow a pair of fucking balls and come out and say that? And, y’know what? He can grow a pair of fucking balls and fire me to my goddamn face if he wants me gone!” I was beyond shouting at this point. I was shrieking like an insane bitch. Hey, at least now there was legitimate reason to fire me.

  I didn’t give him a chance. I spun and stormed out, holding my fury and hurt close to me, and didn’t look around even though I knew there were plenty of shocked observers leaning out of office doors. I thought I heard Reb whisper, “Good luck, babe,” as I stormed past her and through the security door, but I couldn’t be sure. I liked to think she did.

  I drove out to my storage locker and numbly counted up my stash even though I had a pretty solid idea of how much I had saved. If I was careful and wasn’t too active and didn’t get hurt, I could probably last a couple of months. And what then?