White Trash Zombie Apocalypse
Page 31

I gave a snort of amusement, smiled. “You really don’t know me very well, do you?”
“Oh, man.” She winced. “I’m afraid I do.”
“I won’t let them do bad shit to you,” I said with a shake of my head. “I can’t.”
The door opened, and Brian entered with one of the drawings in his hand, face in unreadable mode.
Heather’s gaze went to the drawing, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Yeah, no fruit basket.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Brian?”
“She’s the one who turned us over to Saberton four years ago,” he said, voice even but carrying a dark undertone that sent a chill down my back. “It’s why they know about zombies. Why they know so much about zombies.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “How?”
Brian opened his mouth to speak, but Heather beat him to it.
“Got into one of Mr. Ivanov’s safes,” she said. “I copied a bunch of research material. I didn’t realize what it was until later.” She grimaced. “After that I spent almost a year gathering more information on zombies. That’s how I ended up with John Kang.”
“Damn,” I breathed, but then I shook my head. Lifting my chin, I looked back to Brian. “You can’t lay all that at her feet. Charish was ready to sell us out to the highest bidder. It would’ve happened at some point.”
Brian seemed unmoved. “Angel, I need to speak with Heather alone now.”
“Yeah,” I said tightly. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“It has to happen,” he stated. “I give you my word that nothing will happen to Heather in that time.”
I hesitated, but the memory of the hole in the office wall rose. He wouldn’t have punched a wall in frustration if he was totally okay with treating her like the enemy.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m trusting you.” And with that I gave Heather’s hand a squeeze and stepped out.
* * *
I obediently went off with the taciturn Jacques and allowed him to draw vials and vials of blood, after which I downed a fresh, warm puff pastry stuffed with brains and a to-die-for smoothie that Jacques called Dr. Nikas’s Special Blend. It sure beat the hell out of juice and cookies. Yet then I had to wait—very impatiently—for what was close to half an hour before Brian returned. Didn’t help that all I had to read was a decade-old issue of Field & Stream. Seriously, what the hell? Didn’t zombies keep up their magazine subscriptions?
When Brian came to get me, his face was still utterly unreadable. I stood and set the magazine down, crossed my arms defiantly over my chest, and looked up at him with as much authority as a short and skinny high school dropout zombie could muster.
“I’m not much of a fighter, Brian,” I warned him in a low voice, “but I’m mean, and I don’t quit. So I sure as hell hope you have something good to tell me.”
His expression turned grim, and dread curled into a tight knot in my gut as he approached.
“Goddammit, Brian,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking in anger and stress. “Have you already done something awful to her?”
I caught a faint whiff of cherry, and then before I could react, the stoic Brian Archer took hold of my shoulders and planted a big brotherly Cherry ChapStick laden smooch right on my lips. He’d smeared it on extra thick too, the bastard.
“No.” He pulled back, faint smile playing about his mouth.
A laugh of delirious relief burst out of me, even as I wiped the thick smudge of lip balm off my mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh my god, you must’ve used half a stick. So everything’s okay? She’s gonna be okay?”
He gave my shoulders a squeeze before dropping his hands back to his sides. “We’re taking her in.”
“As in…not fucking her up? And not ransoming her back?” I asked, still a bit wary. “You’ll let her defect—or whatever it’s called in the corporate world?”
“More than that,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Everything checked out. Andrew Saber was treated in private for a lacerated cheek on the night in question. She answered all—all—of my other questions correctly, even the personal and the hard ones.” He took a deep breath, smiled. “And, well, she smells right. The fear is gone. She can’t fake that. So, unless she does something incredibly stupid, she’s one of us.”
“Good,” I said with a grin of relief. “I really didn’t want to get ugly with y’all.”
Brian chuckled. “Trust me, Angel. None of us want that.”
Chapter 16
To my relief, my dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway when Brian dropped me off. He waited politely until I unlocked my front door and gave him a wave before he pulled away and drove off.
As soon as I was inside, I pulled my phone out of my purse and called Marcus, excitement about the lab visit and relief about Heather’s fate still shimmering through me.
“Hey, you,” he answered, a smile in his voice.
“Oh my god, Marcus!” I said as I plopped onto the couch. “I got to see Kang’s head! It was so…eeew!” I laughed.
“Really? That’s…” He paused. “Wait. How did you see Kang’s head?”
“I called Pietro this morning to ask him what was going on with the heads, and he said I could go see for myself, so he sent Brian to pick me up and so I went! So cool!”
“Brian picked you up, huh?” There was a strange catch in his voice, but I was too excited to want to stop and figure out why.
“Yeah, and damn, I’ve never ridden in an Escalade before,” I continued to babble. “Sweet ride!”
“I’ve never been in Brian’s Escalade,” he said. “I imagine it is.” He paused. “And he took you to the lab?”
“Sure did. Way out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.” I laughed. “I couldn’t find it again if my life depended on it.”
“I have no idea where it is either,” Marcus said. “So, it was interesting?”
“It really was,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t understand half of what Dr. Nikas was saying, but he was really awesome and didn’t talk down to me at all.” I grinned. “Maybe after I get my GED I can go take some college classes. I mean I really love the Biology stuff.”
“That’s not a bad idea at all.”
“And maybe I can even do some work with Dr. Nikas, help out at the lab or something. Marcus, he was sooo nice.”
“Um, yeah. Sure,” he said. “That would be great.” Except that it didn’t sound like he thought it would be great at all.
My smile slipped a bit. “Marcus? Is something wrong?”
He was silent for a few seconds—long enough for me to wonder if he had horrible news to share and was working up the courage to tell me—then said, “Angel, you can’t do that.”
“Do what?” I asked, baffled.
“You can’t call up Pietro with stuff like that,” he said to my utter shock. “I’m only telling you for your own good,” he continued while I listened in numb silence. “Pietro said he’d let you know about the heads, and he would have. Annoying him isn’t a good idea. And, well, taking up Dr. Nikas’s time for nothing…hell, I’ve never even been to the lab.”
Every speck of elation fled, and now I simply felt cold and a little sick. Had I misread everything about my conversation with Pietro and my talk with Dr. Nikas?
“I…but Pietro didn’t sound annoyed, Marcus,” I managed. “And he’s the one who suggested I come see the heads. I didn’t ask for that.”
“Look, babe, you could have called me first, talked about it,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “Then I could have helped you with how to approach, or not approach it. I’ve known him a lot longer than you have.”
The cold feeling tightened into a knot in my gut. “Oh. I see,” I replied stiffly. “I obviously fucked it up even though Pietro seemed perfectly happy to talk to me and was the one to suggest that I come see the lab. But, y’know, this is me. So, yeah. I should check with you before I make a phone call.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, wait, honey, I need to go take a shit. Should I wipe my ass or not? One ply or two ply? I know I desperately need your advice and guidance.”
“Damn it, Angel!” he retorted, raising his voice slightly. “You’re blowing this all out of proportion. We’re talking about my uncle, not your normal everyday life crap.”
“And you’re the one telling me I need to check with you before making a goddamn phone call,” I said, raising my voice right back at him. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Marcus. You’re jumping my ass for fucking something up that wasn’t fucked up!” At least I hoped it wasn’t fucked up. A sharp barb of worry went through me. “Did Pietro say something to you? Is that what this is all about?”
He hesitated. “No,” he finally said, exhaling. “I haven’t talked to him since I called him last night after your attack.”
“Uh huh. So once again this is you not trusting me to be able to handle myself.” My jaw tightened. “Marcus, this is bullshit.”
“You always jump to that conclusion, Angel!” he said, frustration and annoyance thick in his voice. “I’m giving you advice—damn good advice—on one thing I know a helluva lot more about than you do and suddenly I’m the bad guy. That’s bullshit.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” I insisted, fighting back tears. “He wasn’t annoyed or mad or anything, and he wouldn’t have invited me to the lab if I was wasting his time, would he?” I took a deep breath as the old buried anger returned. “And, goddammit, even if I did annoy him it’s the least he could put up with after everything I went through.”