Hardcore Twenty-Four (19 page)

RANGER RETURNED TO
his apartment a little before nine. He was holding a wire and a roll of surgical tape.

“Time to get dressed,” he said, setting the wire and the tape on a kitchen counter.

The device itself was small. About the size of a dime. State-of-the-art. I'd been wired before, so I knew what to expect. And because Ranger was placing the wire I knew what to expect there too.

I was wearing jeans and a stretchy V-neck T-shirt.

“I can do this,” I said. “Just give me the wire. I know where it goes.”

Ranger put his hands on my waist and drew me closer. “That wouldn't be as much fun.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “There will be no
fun
. I'm in a relationship.”

“Don't worry. I'm a professional. I've done this before.”

His hands were under my shirt, skimming over my rib cage, lifting my shirt.

“Wait,” I said.

Too late, the shirt was over my head. A heartbeat later he'd unclasped my bra and his hands were on me. They were warm and familiar, at the small of my back. He brushed a light kiss across my lips, and I got a rush all the way to my toes.

I was doomed. “Oh crap,” I said.

I could feel Ranger smile. “Babe,” he said in a whisper.

• • •

My clothes were scattered around the kitchen, and Ranger was trying to tape the wire to me.

“It's not sticking,” I said.

“It's because you're sweaty.”

“It's
your
sweat,” I said. “I don't sweat. Ladies don't sweat.”

“Babe, you're no lady.”

I knew that was a compliment and a comment on the last twenty minutes. Truth is, if Slick and the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies suck out my brain tonight at least I'll have had this one last cosmic orgasm.

I took a fast shower and got dressed in clean clothes. We got the wire on me in seconds, and we were out the door. I was driving my Rangeman CR-V and Ranger was beside me. Tank was following in another Rangeman SUV.

“My men are in place,” Ranger said. “And Diesel is out
there . . . somewhere. If you get into trouble we can reach you in seconds. The goal is to capture Daryl. Hopefully he'll show up. If he doesn't show, you're going to be on your own to make it happen. Remember the code word for us to move in is ‘red sky.'”

“Right. Got it. Red sky.”

I stopped two blocks from the cemetery parking lot, and Ranger got out and moved to Tank's SUV. I continued on, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach. I was five minutes early when I parked. I had a stun gun in one sweatshirt pocket and a small canister of pepper spray in the other. My cellphone was in my jeans pocket. When I killed the lights, I was enveloped in darkness. I left my messenger bag on the back seat and got out of the car. I stuffed the keys into another pocket of my jeans. I stood for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I saw lights turn into the driveway that led to the lot. Not an SUV. They were too low to the ground. The car swung into the lot and parked next to me. It was Lula.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Lula said, getting out of the Firebird, locking up. “I see you got an invitation too. Good thing I just got my nails done, except I don't know if they're gonna show up in the dark. The text message was short. It didn't say if there was going to be lights set up. Most of Slick's videos only have atmospheric lighting, like from a flashlight.”

Lula was wearing a short, skintight, low-cut dress that was entirely bedazzled. Even in the dark, the dress was blinding. Her five-inch stilettos matched the dress, and she had silver glitter on her eyelids.

“This could be my moment,” Lula said, tugging her dress down over her ass.

“Do you really think he wants to make a video?”

“Well, yeah, what else would he want? He's got a questionable sexual identity, so I don't think this is going to be a romantic liaison. I got an idea for putting music to the video. Something sexy with a good strong beat. Like club music, you see what I'm saying?”

“I was a little worried that he might want my brain.”

“He didn't say nothing about that in my text message. And that better not be the case because my brain's staying in my head, right where it belongs.”

I knew Ranger and Tank were listening in on this conversation. It took a lot to make Ranger laugh out loud, but I figured this had him doubled over.

Lula hauled a Maglite out of her purse and flashed it on. So much for the stealth approach.

“Let's do this,” Lula said, setting off for the gate that led to the footpath. “Showtime.”

“I thought you didn't like cemeteries.”

“Yeah, but I'm willing to make an exception for my chance to be a video star. It's not every day something like this comes along.”

This was true.

We walked along the footpath and spotted Zero Slick sitting on a tombstone, exactly where I'd expected to find him. He seemed to be alone. He wasn't quite as scruffy and zombie-like as the last time I saw him. Probably because Morelli had shut down the dirt dens.

“Here we are,” Lula said. “What's the plan? Do you have a script? Are there any other people coming? I thought by now you might have a crew.”

“I like to do my own camerawork,” Slick said. “That way I have total control.”

“For a while there when you disappeared, we thought you might have turned into a zombie,” Lula said.

“I was thinking about it, but then I decided that wasn't my destiny. I was meant to make videos and to blog.”

“Good for you,” Lula said. “And I suppose you remembered that I had some extensive experience in front of the camera.”

“Sure,” Slick said, “but mostly I need you for diversity. That's the key word these days. Diversity. If I want to get recognized as a great filmmaker I need to have some diversified zombies. Right now, I only have white zombies.”

“Hunh,” Lula said, hands on her hips. “Are you telling me I been invited because I'm gonna be your token diversification goddess?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, now that we got that straightened out. I'm still getting a producer credit, right?”

“Right.”

“So, it sounds to me like you want us to be zombies,” I said to Slick.

“Totally. And apologies because ordinarily we would have done this filming in one of our zombie transformation dens, but we're currently relocating.”

“Who is ‘we'?” I asked.

“I bet I know,” Lula said. “I bet it's the Supreme Ruler of the
Zombies. I've been reading your blog, so I know you guys have been hanging together.” Lula swept her flashlight beam around the grave site. “Where is he? Is he here?”

“He's in the area, but he never allows anyone to see him. Only zombies and, of course, me.”

“Well, I want to see him,” Lula said. “I got all dressed up for this gig.”

“You can see him after you become a zombie,” Slick said.

“I guess that's okay,” Lula said. “I don't mind putting some makeup on, but I don't want to smudge up my dress. I'm not gonna be that kind of zombie. I'm Glam Zombie.”

“Are we going to be filming here?” I asked Slick.

“Not exactly. There's a new grave site toward the back of the cemetery. Someone's getting interred tomorrow, and the fresh-dug grave will be awesome for the video.”

“I heard they rounded up a bunch of zombies,” Lula said. “Do you still got enough to film?”

“Trust me, there's no shortage of zombies. We're always recruiting new ones.”

Slick led the way along the path, and I pulled Lula aside.

“You know there really aren't zombies, right? Slick and the Ruler are distributing a drug that gives people the characteristics of a zombie.”

“Yeah, but they look like zombies. They just aren't totally dead yet. I mean, I've seen some of them, and they're real close to being dead. And they got a focus on getting brains . . . just like a zombie.”

I couldn't argue with any of this.

We followed Slick to the far edge of the cemetery. Lula's
heels clicked on the paved footpath. Her Maglite flicked side to side.

“Tell you the truth,” she said to me. “I'm getting a little freaked. I'm thinking there might be ghosts here besides zombies. I'm pretty sure I can feel them slithering against my skin. I got the creepy-crawlies.”

I had the creepy-crawlies too, but mine were coming from Zero Slick.

Slick stopped at a spot that had a tarp stretched over a mound of earth and another over an open grave. He pulled the tarp away from the grave.

“Here's the scene,” Slick said. “You jump in, and we film you down there looking like you're climbing out. You have to look like you're coming out of the zombie portal.”

There was no way in hell I was going into the grave. And I know it was my civic duty to help catch Daryl the sociopathic drug lord, but I wasn't feeling it. I was thinking this was a bad idea, and I would rather be back in Ranger's apartment, or Morelli's house, or even my own apartment. I was thinking some moronic television show and a glass of wine would be good.

“I got on my special bedazzled Via Spigas,” Lula said. “These aren't no grave-jumping shoes. How about if I just run around and wave my arms in the air and look batshit scared?”

“I guess that would be okay,” Slick said. “I could get some footage of that.”

“Hold on,” I said. “We aren't doing anything until the Supreme Ruler shows up.”

“Why not?” Slick asked.

“Because that's the way it is,” I said. “It's not like we're a
couple extras in some second-rate video. We expect to work with top people.”

“And what about your fans?” Lula said. “They deserve to see the big guy, Mr. Supreme.”

“Don't worry about my fans,” Slick said. “I promised them a shocking video, and I'm going to deliver. I have it all planned out.”

“I think you're full of baloney,” I said to him. “I think you made it up about the Supreme Ruler. I think you're making a fake documentary.”

“I'm making the documentary of the century,” Slick said. “You should be begging me to let you jump in the hole.”

“You got delusions,” Lula said. “You're a deluded person.”

“You said the Supreme Ruler is in the area. Exactly where is he?” I asked Slick. “Is he at Mickey's eating cheese fries? Is he wandering around, reading tombstones?”

“He's with the army,” Slick said. “He'll come with the army when I give the signal.”

“What army is that?” Lula asked.

“The zombie army,” Slick said.

“I bet you got a zombie navy too,” Lula said. “And a zombie air force.”

“Not yet,” Slick said. “Just the army. They've been gathering while we've been talking. They're going to help with the final scene.”

I looked beyond him, and I saw two red eyes glowing in the dark night. A second later more red eyes blinked on.

“What the heck?” Lula said. “Are you kidding me?”

She panned with the Maglite and the zombies groaned and
swayed side to side when the light hit them. They were armed with shovels and hatchets.

“You're surrounded,” Slick said. “Just like an apocalypse.” He had a small video camera and he started filming the advancing zombies, and then he focused on Lula and me. “Jump into the grave,” he said. “If you don't jump into the grave, they'll hack you to death. You'll be safe in the grave.”

The zombies were shuffling forward. When they weren't caught in the light beam it was too dark to see anything other than the glowing eyes.

“Red sky,” I said. “Red sky. Get me out of here. I'm done. I don't care that the crazy guy isn't here. Red sky. Red sky.”

“What's with the red sky?” Lula asked.

“I'm wired. I'm calling Ranger in to get us out of here.”

I pulled the neck of my T-shirt out and looked down at the wire. It wasn't there. I slipped my hand under my bra and came up with a single strip of loose tape. No wire.

“Stupid tape,” I said.

“I don't like the sound of that,” Lula said.

“The tape came loose and the wire fell off.”

“Help!” Lula yelled.

SLICK RUSHED AT
Lula, and shoved her backward. She lost her balance and fell into the grave. It was about seven feet deep, and she landed with a
thud
.

“Oh crap,” Lula said. “Lordy, Lordy.”

I pulled my stun gun out, but I was grabbed from behind before I could power up. I kicked back and tried to wrench free. A second set of hands was on me. I was yanked back and tossed into the grave. I scrambled to my feet and started to shout for help.

“That's good,” Slick said. “Claw at the dirt like you're trying to climb out. And it would be great if you could cry.”

The zombies were lined up around the grave.

“Commence shoveling,” Slick said. “We need to bury them alive.”

“Excuse me?” Lula said.

Slick looked down at us. “We're not going to totally bury you alive. We're going to leave your head sticking out because the Supreme Ruler wants your brains. It's another part of the diversity movement. Brain diversity.”

I shouted for help, and I was hit in the face with a shovelful of dirt. All the zombies were shoveling. They were moving the dirt that had been piled alongside the grave back into the grave.

“I gotta get out of here,” Lula said. “Give me a boost up. I'm gonna take out some zombies.”

I leaned against the dirt wall, and Lula climbed up me as best she could. A zombie swung his shovel at her, she grabbed the shovel, and pulled the zombie into the grave with us. He was on his back, flapping his arms, grunting, unable to roll over. The other zombies shoveled dirt over him. They were shoveling like robots without direction or emotion.

I ducked my head to avoid the dirt flying at me, and I shouted for help. Floodlights flashed on, and there were men in uniform everywhere. Some were Rangeman guys, and some were police. Ranger dropped into the grave and brushed dirt off my head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I lost the wire. It was the stupid tape.”

“Sorry. It put us at a disadvantage. Fortunately, I had a drone up, and we were at least able to see what was happening on the ground. I would have moved in sooner, but I decided it was best to involve the police when I saw the number of zombies.”

“Slick said Daryl was here, but he wouldn't show his face until Lula and I were zombies. Turns out, the plan was to bury us alive and take our brains.”

“That wasn't going to happen. Diesel and I were ready to go in and snatch you out. We were just waiting for everyone to get into place.”

Morelli was standing on the edge of the grave. Ranger lifted me up, and Morelli grabbed me and set me on my feet.

“What about me?” Lula said.

Lula was two inches shorter than I was and about seventy-five pounds heavier.

Ranger looked at her and grinned.

Morelli was also grinning. “I'm game if you are,” he said to Ranger.

Ranger hoisted Lula up to Morelli, and Morelli took it from there. To their credit, neither of them broke a sweat or grunted with the exertion. Lula's skirt was up around her waist by the time she was set on the ground, and we were all treated to a view of her purple satin thong.

“I got dirt all over my bedazzled dress,” Lula said. “And my shoes are ruined.”

The police were cuffing all the zombies, and Diesel had Slick in tow.

“I found him,” Diesel said to me. “Break out the deck of Old Maid cards.”

I shoved my stun gun back into my pocket. “It doesn't count. I found him first.”

“Yeah, but I
caught
him.”

“What's this about?” Morelli asked.

“You don't want to know,” I told him. “And anyway, it's about
nothing
.”

“We'll see,” Diesel said.

Lula speared Slick in the foot with her stiletto heel.

“Oops, sorry,” she said. “I'm so clumsy. I didn't see your foot sticking out there like that.” She speared his other foot. “Or that one either,” she said.

“Police brutality,” Slick said.

“I'm not no cop,” Lula said. “I'm a former 'ho and now I'm doing some clerking.”

“I'd like to talk to the Supreme Ruler,” Diesel said to Slick. “How about you take me to him.”

“I can't do that,” Slick said. “He comes to me. I never know where he is.”

Diesel picked Slick up by his ankles and held him at arm's length over the grave.

“Does this help?”

“I don't know. I swear. He's spooky. All of a sudden he's standing behind me, and then he's gone.”

Diesel brought Slick in and dumped him on the ground. “All yours,” he said to Morelli.

Morelli and Ranger were busy doing cleanup, and Diesel disappeared, presumably looking for Daryl. Lula and I walked back to the parking lot.

“Here's another night of my life I won't get back,” Lula said. “I'm going home. I'm going to put my jammies on and watch a movie. It's not gonna have zombies in it either. I'm done with zombies.”

Going home sounded like a good idea. Slick was in custody and I'd get my recovery money. I had nothing to fear. Morelli
would be busy for hours. And I had no justification for staying with Ranger. I was already feeling the adrenaline letdown. I wanted to crash into bed and sleep for days.

I drove back to my apartment on autopilot. I managed to get myself into the elevator and down the hall. I plugged my key into the lock, opened the door, and flipped the lights on. Home sweet home. I went straight to my bedroom and kicked my shoes off. I stripped my shirt off and heard someone giggle behind me.

Daryl Meadum, the kid I saw on Diggery's road, was standing in my doorway, holding a gun.

“I see you in your underwear,” he said.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I'm brilliant. Opening doors is a snap for me.”

“Shouldn't you be relocating?”

“Yes, this is my last stop in Trenton.”

He was speaking so softly I had to strain to listen.

“I need a healthy culture to take to my new location. Frequently brain cells that are made available to me are inferior and produce an inferior product. Cadaver brain cells, for instance, are never my first choice. It's difficult to build a good zombie army with inferior product.”

“Why do you want to build a zombie army?”

“It's fun. It's much more fun than video game zombies.”

“Don't you miss doing your research?”

“No. It was boring. And people were always watching me, ordering me around.
Eat your vegetables. Change your socks. Time for bed. Don't do a lobotomy on the cat
.”

I was feeling a little weirded out, standing in my bra, talking
at gunpoint to the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies. Especially since he looked like he was fourteen years old. I was hoping I could distract him with conversation and create an opportunity to snatch the gun away. He didn't look comfortable holding it. I suspected he had little to no shooting experience.

“It isn't necessary to keep the gun pointed at me,” I said. “We're friends, right?”

“Actually I have to kill you, so I can get your brain. I don't usually do the killing, but this is the most efficient way to go about it. I brought my tools with me in my backpack. I have a power drill and a small power saw, so I have options. Probably I'll go with the saw. It will allow me to remove the whole brain intact. I'm completely prepared. I have an insulated bag and an ice pack.”

“Gross!”

“Not at all. It should be an interesting experience. I like that you've removed your shirt. It feels very naughty to be killing you when you're only wearing a bra. I don't suppose you'd want to take it off?”

“I'll trade you my bra for your gun.”

He thought about it for a moment. “That wouldn't be a smart trade,” he said. “I can remove your bra after I kill you. In fact, I might remove all your clothes after I kill you.”

Eeek
. Instant nausea. I swallowed back the revulsion and caught a glimpse of motion behind Daryl. It was so fleeting I thought I might have imagined it.

“So,” I said to Daryl, “where are you going next?”

“Austin,” he said. “I hear they have a good club scene. I think I can recruit some interesting zombies there.”

Diesel moved in behind Daryl. “Austin isn't an option,” Diesel said.

Daryl spun around and pointed the gun at Diesel. “It
is
an option. I do what I want now. You have no control over me. If you don't leave I'll shoot you.”

“First off,” Diesel said, “I have total control over you, and your days of doing what you want are over. Second, if you shoot me it's really going to piss me off, and you don't want to piss me off.”

“I could kill you,” Daryl said.

“I'm not that easy to kill,” Diesel told him. “You should know that. Give me the gun.”

Daryl squeezed off a shot that hit Diesel in the leg, about three inches above his knee.

Diesel looked down at the hole in his jeans and shook his head. “This is getting old,” he said. “This is the second time I've been shot this week.”

“I meant to shoot you in the heart,” Daryl said, “but I'm not used to this gun. Hold still while I try again.”

I grabbed the lamp off my bedside table and took two giant steps closer to Daryl. Daryl turned toward me, I whacked him in the face with the lamp, and he crumpled to the floor.

Diesel stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at Daryl. Blood was gushing from Daryl's nose onto his shirt and my bedroom carpet, and his eyes had rolled back into his head.

“Nice,” Diesel said.

“Did I kill him?”

Diesel nudged Daryl with his foot, and Daryl moaned.

“Nope,” Diesel said. “Not dead. Mostly you just rearranged his face.”

Daryl blinked to focus his eyes.

“I had a good run,” Daryl said.

Diesel nodded. “You had a good run.”

“And I saw her in her underwear,” Daryl said.

Diesel grinned. “Something to remember.”

Diesel hoisted Daryl to his feet and held him steady. Blood was still dripping from Daryl's nose, but it had slowed to a trickle. Diesel's jeans were caked with blood where he'd been shot.

“Are you okay?” I asked Diesel. “You need to get to the ER. You have a bullet in you!”

“Yeah,” Diesel said. “And digging it out is always a bitch.”

“Always? How many times have you been shot?”

“Occupational hazard,” Diesel said. “Not a big deal. I'm a fast healer.”

“Me too,” Daryl said. “Do I still have a nose?”

“I have to turn Daryl over to the appropriate agency,” Diesel said. “I'll get looked at by a medic in transit. And I'll be back after I deliver Daryl. We have unfinished business.”

“Me too,” Daryl said. “I'll be back, too.”

“Not on my watch,” Diesel said.

“Your watch will end,” Daryl said. “My life work will continue.”

I stopped Diesel at my front door and pulled him aside. “Do I have to worry about Daryl coming back?” I asked him.

“No,” Diesel said. “You have to worry about
me
coming back. I'm batshit lucky at Old
Maid.”