White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (27 page)

“No, you don't understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I said with a humorless laugh. “Here, let me lay it all out for you. Kristi Charish is perfectly
fine
. Better than fine. In fact, she's at the top of her game, especially when it comes to manipulating people to get what she wants.” I softened my voice. “Dante, she's playing you for a fool. There's no way in hell she'd publicly expose Saberton, because that would also trot out all of her own dirty little secrets.”

He licked his lips, eyes pleading with me. “No, you're wrong. She's not fine. She's fragile. That's why we . . . why she needs me to take care of her.”

“Fragile.” I gave him a long look. I almost—
almost
felt sorry for the chump. “I guess that word has a different meaning in your neck of the woods. I can't imagine how a person who's been made
fragile
through deliberate brainwashing could mastermind the kind of wheeling and dealing she's been doing with Saberton and my people for the past few days.”

Rosario stared at me, mouth working as he groped for a reply, a comeback. Anything. My last statement had been the one brushstroke that changed the picture—kind of like adding a Hitler mustache—and now he struggled to understand this new image. I had a suspicion there were little details about Kristi that he'd dismissed or excused since they didn't fit into his “poor fragile Kristi” picture. With a little dose of reality feedback, he was starting to realize that those same details fit into this new picture like the smile on that Mona Lisa chick.

The tent flap flew open.
Finally
, I thought with relief. But instead of the bulk of Bear, a petite form burst in.

“Angel!” Justine Chu screeched in delight, a Hurricane drink glass in one hand and a phone in the other. A canary yellow feather boa was draped around her neck along with a dozen pairs of Mardi Gras beads. A tight silver dress barely covered her various naughty bits.

I quickly holstered my gun—without shooting myself in the ass like I had in New York. Nick yanked his gun out of sight while Rosario shifted so that Justine couldn't see the handcuffs. None of us wanted witnesses to this bullshit.

“Hey, Justine!” I said, doing my darndest to sound really thrilled to see her even though worry churned in my gut. Where the fuck was Bear?

Justine tottered forward in high-heeled purple boots, grinning widely and happily oblivious to anything out of the ordinary. “I've been looking all over for you, and here you are!” She flung her arms wide, dousing Nick with rum and fruit juice.

“Why were you looking for me?” I asked. Shit. Did that sound paranoid? Yeah, that totally sounded paranoid.

Fortunately, Justine didn't notice. “Well. About an hour ago I saw a petite little masked blondie and thought maybe that was you 'cause you're tiny and have blonde hair, y'know?” She swayed near Rosario and gave him an unfocused once-over. I tensed, ready to surge to her rescue if he tried anything, but she merely gave him a wink and a chuck on the chin and continued my way. “Then the blonde babe turned and went the other way, and I was like, Oh my god, I know that cute little butt! And now I'm here and you're here, and I have to tell you”—she took a deep breath—“this Mardi Gras shit is
awful!
”

“Huh?” I'd been trying to split my attention between her and Rosario, which obviously wasn't working. “Wait. Why?”

She looked at me very seriously, if not soberly. “Because . . . I am really fucking
drunk.
”

“No. Way.”

Justine let out a peal of laughter. “I know, right?”

“Welcome to Louisiana,” I said with a cheery grin even as I tried to keep tabs on everything else. Nick had one eye on Rosario and the other on his phone as he sent a text. Trying to get hold of Bear, I was certain, and the tension in his stance told me there'd been no reply.

Rosario.
My gut dropped. He was watching Justine with a friendly, approachable smile. His stance was calm and comfortable, as if standing with his hands behind his back was natural and certainly not at all because they were handcuffed. He didn't give off the cold-blooded killer vibe, but I
knew
he'd done something to Bear. I needed to wring the truth out of him, but first I had to get Justine out of here.

I took her arm to steer her toward the entrance, but she planted her purple-booted feet and swung a fierce look at the two men.

“This woman
saved me
from Val Kilmer!” she announced. “And because of that she never got a picture with me!”

“Yeah, a picture sounds great,” I said. “Maybe outside—”

“Don't be silly!” For a drunk chick, she sure moved fast. Before I could react, she flung an arm around my shoulders, yanked me close, and held up her cell phone. “Selfie time!”

The camera clicked. Rosario tossed the handcuffs to the ground and bolted for the door.

“Fuck!” He'd taken advantage of the Justine distraction to either pick the locks or use a hidden handcuff key. “Justine, I need to fetch my phone from my car so I can get my own picture! Be right back!” I tore out of Justine's grasp and charged after Rosario, hoping to hell it would take her a minute to realize she could simply text me the selfie pic. Or better yet, forget the whole incident in her current inebriated state.

Outside, Rosario pelted along the side of the tent to the parked ATVs and began a frantic search for any with keys left in them. I tried to pour on the speed, but I was operating at pathetic and normal Angel-levels.

Rosario let out a cry of triumph and climbed onto an ATV decorated with reaching zombie arms made of chicken wire, duct tape, and painted papier-macˆhé.

“You know I won't stop 'til I catch you!” I shouted as he started the engine.

“If you chase after me, you won't find Bear in time,” he called over his shoulder then roared off, metallic purple streamers flapping behind him.

I stumbled to a gasping stop then turned as Nick ran up, mask off and his face contorted in worry.

“What did he mean?” Nick demanded. “In time for what? Where's my dad?”

I reached toward him out of instinctive desire to give comfort, then stopped when he recoiled with instinctive need to stay away from the monster.

Swallowing my dismay, I pulled my hand back. “Bear's not dead,” I told him. “Rosario's not that cold-blooded.” But he was desperate—deep in a pit of lies and trying to climb out before the walls collapsed on him. Desperate enough to put Bear in a life-threatening situation. “Your dad is around here somewhere. Start looking.”

“What are you going to do?”

I bared my teeth. “I'm going to chase Rosario down and find out where your dad is even if I have to rip it out of him.”

For the first time since discovering the truth about me, Nick met my eyes without recoiling. “Do what you have to.”

I wanted so badly to take a precious second and hug him, but I didn't. Instead I took off running. Not after Rosario, but around to the back of the tent and my car. Breathing hard, I threw myself into the driver's seat and downed three packets of brains. But brain-boosted abilities alone wouldn't be enough for this pursuit. I needed the mega-boost of a combat mod.

Warnings clamored through my head as I grabbed the syringe and vial of V12. Dosing myself on top of the grey-rot was downright stupid. But if I held back and Bear died, I'd never be able to live with myself. Not to mention, Rosario would have time to act on his misguided whistle-blowing plans before the Tribe could stop him. I'd done a whole lot of stupid in my life. For once, maybe stupid was the right thing to do.

I drew a dose into the syringe, then drew up more. And more. A full syringe—three doses. I injected myself and drew another cc then hesitated. I'd taken four doses last night and gained zombie overdrive abilities.

But Rosario had a huge head start. Right now I needed to be a motherfucking superhero.

My hands shook as I drew yet another cc into the syringe. Five doses total. I'd worry about the consequences later.

I'm it. I'm the one who can do what needs to be done.

I shoved the needle in and slammed the plunger home, and was out of the car and moving as the first drops hit my system.

MegaSuperZombiePowers. Holy fucking shit. Fatigue vanished, and every sense flared into ultrafocus. I knew Bear's scent, but there were too many other people-scents around and not enough time to seek his out. Right now it was Rosario's scent that I followed as it floated in twisted, teasing ribbons along the festival paths. The monster within urged me to run the prey down on foot, but I ignored it. Unlike the times when brain-hunger clawed and howled, I was still in full control of my mental faculties, and I had a better idea.

Parked behind a churro booth was an ATV parade float. Colored lights flashed within a basketball-sized plastic brain secured in front of the handlebars, while a man with salt-and-pepper hair strapped a bloody mannequin to the rack behind the seat with bright pink duct tape.

“I need to borrow your four wheeler,” I shouted as I ran up. “It's an emergency!”

“What the hell?” Straightening, he brandished the duct tape like a weapon. “You can't just . . .” He trailed off, face paling as he got a good look at me.

I plucked the duct tape from his limp fingers. “Thanks,” I said, turned and leaped nimbly into the seat then shoved the roll of tape up to my left bicep like a warrior queen's armband. That was me, Zombie Redneck Warrior Queen.

“I'll bring it right back!” I hollered as I sped off. With any luck, he might even believe me.

Rosario's scent trail dissipated as I followed it through the Fest grounds, but I tamped down the urge to race around in a mindless search, and gunned the ATV in the direction of the zombie hunt prep area. I'd whacked Rosario's worldview with a big ol' fact-hammer, and I had a feeling he'd seek terrain where he felt at ease and in control. He'd spent countless hours in the woods with Marla for searches, so for him it would be like having a home court advantage. If I was wrong, I risked losing his trail for good, but it wasn't as if I had any clues besides my gut feeling. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the prep area and picked up Rosario's scent.

Now the hunt was on.

His trail floated in the air and clung to the ground, as clear and palpable as tendrils of glowing red. I raced after it, lights flashing in the oversized plastic brain as if the ATV was an undead emergency vehicle. Though I wasn't anywhere near an expert at driving a four-wheeler, the megadose of V12 had cranked my reflexes up to I'm-a-God level, and that made all the difference in the world. Adjusting my weight and balance with precision, I sped onward, ignoring the underbrush that whipped at my legs. I veered around trees and soared over gulleys, handling the machine with ludicrous ease when lesser mortals would have been crushed to death a dozen times over already.

The scent trail thickened, and the taste of him washed over my tongue. Sweat and worry, grief and determination. Worried about Marla. Driven to return to Kristi.

The sound of his ATV reached me next, an unsteady noise that fluctuated between roar and rumble. Rosario's reflexes were merely human, sluggish compared to mine, and that forced him to slow through maneuvers that I took at speed.

I zoomed over a rise and caught a flash of purple streamers through the trees ahead. It didn't seem possible that he could hear my vehicle over the sound of his own engine, but maybe his hind-brain felt the predator on his heels. His head whipped around, eyes widening in shock for an instant before he returned his focus to the woods and his flight.

I accelerated to try and close the gap, but he was making me work for it. He handled the ATV with the ease of a shitload of experience which damn near balanced out the disadvantage of his puny human reflexes.

It felt as if I'd been chasing him for hours, though less than ten minutes had passed since I hit the woods. The clock was ticking down on my superpowers, a looming threat that spurred me on. I'd lost the bloody mannequin a half mile back, but the big brain continued to flash merrily. Rosario skimmed past a tree and sheared off one duct-tape–and–papier-macˆhé zombie arm. It bounced in my direction, and I had to flatten myself to my seat, chicken wire fingers skimming my head as it flew past.

The distance between us shrank as I pursued with single-minded determination. Nothing else mattered but stopping Rosario, not only to save Bear but also to get Rosario—and his half-baked Save the Zombies plan—safely under the Tribe's control.

The trees thinned and the ground leveled. Rosario poured on the speed, but my ATV was as powerful as his and carrying a lot less weight. Water sparkled in the distance as I gained ground on him. The Colemyke River. Not as big as the Kreeger but still at least a hundred feet across in this section and too deep to ride an ATV through. Elation surged through me. I had him trapped now.

Yet, inexplicably, he continued at full speed toward the river. My elation sputtered then shifted to outright dismay. No, he wasn't trapped, not one stinking bit. He was going to drive straight in and then swim for it, let the current carry him far away from me. He was probably a good, strong swimmer, too.
Goddammit
. My swimming skills were adequate at best, and all the brains and V12 in the world wouldn't make me fast enough to catch him in the water.

That meant I had to catch him on land, but easier said than done. I inched closer to him, even as the river seemed to rush at us. Rosario and I were still way too far apart, even for a god-like leap from my ATV to his—assuming my V12 supercharge hadn't fizzled. In another thirty seconds we'd both be in the water. He'd win, and Bear and the Tribe and all zombies would lose.

No. We can't lose. If we lose, we die.
With a scream of rage and desperation, I ripped the flashing brain from the wires and zipties then chucked it at Rosario with all my might. It sailed toward him, and my anger melted into surprised delight as I watched the beautiful trajectory. I'd been worried that I'd underestimated my enhanced strength and overthrown it, but a long grey object dangled behind the brain, weighing it down just enough.

Wait. That's my arm
.

Brain and arm nailed Rosario right between the shoulder blades. He lurched forward, jerking the handlebars into an impossibly sharp turn.

That's . . . my arm
.

Brain and arm fell to earth. Rosario and the ATV soared through the air, twisting in a weirdly silent ballet of disaster. I watched in detached awe and horror as Rosario slammed against a tree and crumpled to the ground. An instant later the ATV smashed down inches from him then tumbled away, finally coming to rest on the sandy riverbank.

Sound rushed in, and I snapped out of my daze. Mouth dry, I grabbed the brake with my left—and only—hand and brought the ATV to a wobbly stop. My legs felt weird and shaky as I climbed off, but I chalked that up to the long and crazy ride through the woods. And possibly also the fact that I'd lost my fucking arm, but I didn't have time to worry about that. Rosario groaned, which meant he was still alive. I had to deal with him first.

My left leg gave out when I was a dozen feet away from him, and I covered the rest of the distance in an awkward three-point crawl. I shifted to a cockeyed kneel beside him as he breathed in shallow gasps. Didn't look as if he had a head injury, but from the way he'd hit the tree I suspected his ribs were a mess.

“Where's Bear?” I shouted. Or tried to. My voice had a scraping rasp to it, but he heard me well enough.

“Reefer . . . truck.” He gasped. “Blue and white . . . end of row . . . east side.”

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket. “If you're lying—”

“Not.” Pain tightened his bloodless face as he swallowed. “Wasn't . . . trying to kill Bear.”

I'd stopped listening to him. The fingers of my remaining hand had zero dexterity. I set the phone on the ground and dragged my knuckle across the screen to get Nick's number, then gave it a clumsy tap to make the call and another to put it on speaker. As it rang, I shook the roll of duct tape off my bicep and down to my hand.

“Angel?”

“Your dad's in a refrigerator truck,” I said, “east side, blue and white, at the end of the row.”

“I'm not far from there!”

“Then go warm his ass up.” I tried to smile but my face felt as if I'd spent hours in the dentist's chair. “Keep me on the line, okay?” Damn it. The rasp in my voice was getting worse. “Wanna make sure he's there.”

“You got it,” Nick said in a breathless voice that told me he was running.

Though I seriously doubted Rosario could sit up, much less run away, I'd been through too much to take any chances. With my teeth and one barely working hand, I wound bright pink duct tape around his wrists and forearms. I wanted to wrap his feet and ankles, too, but when I tried to crawl that way I fell to my side in a heap.
What the fuck is happening to me?

“Angel! He's okay! He was right where you said!”

“Nick.” Even through the deepening rasp I heard the panic in my voice. “Something's wrong. Rosario's hurt, too, but I . . . need help.” My legs. My left shin and foot were a dozen feet away, back where I'd fallen and had to crawl. And my right . . .

“Shit,” Nick breathed. “Do you know where you are?”

Oh god
. My right leg lay crooked by Rosario's head. “River.” No, that didn't help. The river curved around the property and covered miles and miles. “Marla. Get Marla. Find us. Help me.” I coughed out a gobbet of something dark and nasty. “Call . . . call Dr. Ne . . . Nikas.”

I heard shouting on Nick's end, and running footsteps. I tried to reach for the phone only to watch my arm pull away from my shoulder like wet paper tearing. No pain. No sensation. Nothing.

“Hur . . . hurry.”

“We're getting Marla. Just hang on. Dr. Degas? I don't know who that is.”

“Nee Kahs.” Had he understood me? I flopped to my back and stared up at the sky, terrified that if I twitched a single muscle I'd disintegrate completely.

White fog closed in. Nick's voice came through the speaker, distant and muddled. Rosario gasped in pain.

Drifting.

Dying.

I'm dying.

No. I can't. I
won't.
I'm a goddamn zombie, and zombies don't die. Not this zombie.

Silence.

I can't die. My dad. Who'll take care of my dad?

Something bumped my head, and my world tilted.

“Marla . . . off.” Rosario.

“Angel!” Nick. Close.

“Oh my fucking god in heaven.” Bear.

Nick's face swam above me then whizzed away. Puking. Lots of puking.

“Her phone,” Rosario wheezed. “Passcode . . . nine-six-two-four. Dr. Ariston Nikas.”

He knew my passcode? Annoyance came and went. “Nick,” I tried to say, but nothing came out. Not even a rasp.

Voices blended and dulled.

Thwup thwup thwup thwup thwup.
Sound pounded through me. I dragged my thoughts together. Dr. Nikas. He'd brought the helicopter.

Nick knelt by Rosario's head, his hands on each side, stabilizing.

Bear shouted and waved at the chopper.

Dr. Nikas's voice came through the cell phone.
Yes, we see you
.

Movement and hustle. Lots of it.

Jacques and Nick shifted Rosario onto a backboard.

Dr. Nikas knelt beside me. “Angel, hold on. We're here.”

This is really bad! Help me!

“We're here.”

Bear scraped my rotten arms and legs into a body bag.

Rosario was gone. Only me now. What was left. Nick backed away, face lifeless as Dr. Nikas worked on me.

Nick.

Nick kept backing. Away. From me.

Nick.