Diana Rowland - How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

All possible sympathy for him evaporated in a flash. After the monumentally shittastic day I’d had so far, that one pissy remark sliced right through the last remaining frayed thread of my self-control. “Listen to me, Andy-boy,” I hissed. “I’m not like you and your people. I don’t do shit like this without provocation. So don’t you get all high and mighty and morally superior with me, whining about how I’m not sorry enough.” I poked him in the chest with my index finger. “ Your people kidnapped my dad and then me, and put me through all kinds of fucked up hell in Charish’s lab.” My voice rose as the pent up anger and fear and frustration came spewing forth. “ Your people ran a bunch of experiments on innocent civilians. Your people do horrible shit to zombies. And your people kidnapped Pietro Ivanov and three of his men, murdered Chris Peterson, tried to kill Brian Archer, and now have Kyle.” I was shouting now, right in his face. “So you can take your goddamn doubt and shove it up your fucking ass!”

“You’re lucky we don’t expose you,” he snarled. “There’d be bounties on you monsters in a heartbeat.”

“At least your shit would be out in the open then as well,” I shot back. “You’re lucky we don’t expose you. And you’ve got a lot of nerve calling us monsters.” Fury trembled through me. “Hey, I have an idea. Maybe I’ll show you what it’s like to be a monster. Maybe I’ll turn you , make you one of us! Let’s see how you feel when you’re the one trying to scrape out survival when everyone is trying to fuck your world up!”

He went white as a sheet and recoiled as if I really was a slavering monster. “You wouldn’t,” he gasped, eyes darting back and forth in a desperate search for escape.

“Wouldn’t I?” The cloying scent of his fear wound around me. I let out a nasty laugh, caught up in the glorious thrill of being in control of this prick, this slimeball who was responsible for so much bad shit. Deep down I knew I couldn’t lay it all on him, but I was cocked to the full pissed-off position, and he’d made the mistake of pulling my trigger. “You know damn well I’m capable of it,” I growled. “Call me a monster? You’re the monster! Only fair to make you one for real!” I grabbed his shoulder, and he let out a panicked cry and fought to twist away. “Whaddya say?” I shouted, distantly aware that someone else was yelling my name. I tightened my grip and gave him a rough shake. “It’ll only hurt a lot! ”

Eyes wide in panic, Andrew struggled against the cuffs, feet scrabbling as he tried to get away from me.

“Angel! Stop it!” It was Naomi yelling at me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her struggle upright.

“I’m not a monster!” I screamed at Andrew, shaking him. “I’m not! You’re the monster. It’s your fault. All of it!”

“Angel, stop !”

The knife-hard edge in Naomi’s voice was like a slap in the face. I turned my head to see distress and pain twisting her features as she stood on her good foot, one hand on the wall for balance and the other holding a tranq gun leveled at me.

Philip let out an ominous growl and lurched toward Naomi, but his legs buckled before he reached her, and he had to grab at the wall to avoid falling in a heap.

The panic in Andrew’s face retreated as he took in the situation, and he sniggered. “Oh, this is rich. The zombie-loving whore protecting the lowly human from the crazy hick zombie while the cripple tries to stop her. Worse than the Three Stooges.”

I jerked my hand away from him and stumbled back as the insults struck home. Naomi’s hand shook as she held the tranq gun, but she didn’t resist when Philip fought his way up to take it from her. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she slid down the wall, meeting my eyes with a look of OMG what did I just do, this is all fucked up and damn this hurts .

I took another unsteady step back from Andrew, from the others. My chest ached with tension and a mild nausea that I knew was only partly because of the MegaPlague. The whole situation was fucked. Andrew was right. We were bumbling around like idiots, and I didn’t have the slightest idea how to fix any of it.

Swiping a hand across my face, I turned and hurried off down the tunnel, away from the others. I heard Philip’s voice behind me, angry and intense as he spoke to Andrew.

“Say another word, and I’ll take you around the corner to piss and give you some pain you won’t believe—without leaving a mark on you.”

I stopped about fifty yards away in a shadowed section of the tunnel and sat, crying and attempting to be quiet about it.

Naomi’s voice carried to me. “I may be a zombie lover,” she growled at Andrew, “but I’m not a whore, you dick.” Then she peered into the darkness toward me. “Angel?” she called, worry in her voice. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone right now, not while the utter humiliation of what I’d done still had me in its grip. Why the hell had I threatened him like that? He was a prick, yes, but the whole “ I’m being held hostage by creatures who might eat my brain” thing had to be pretty fucking stressful. No wonder he’d lashed out.

“Angel?” Naomi called again.

“Annngellll.” A second voice from the gloom in the opposite direction, like an evil echo of Naomi’s voice.

I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering. That second voice hadn’t been an echo, but it sure as hell seemed familiar. “Who’s there?” I demanded, voice thin as I backed toward Naomi and the light.

The only response was a low groan, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. Something soft and heavy. Like a body.

I continued to back warily as Philip staggered up to me.

“What do you have?” he asked, peering past me.

“I heard something,” I told him, holding my freakout down with supreme effort. “There’s someone down there. Someone said my name.” I had the weirdest sensation I’d heard that voice before, but I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe the echoes in the tunnel were messing with my head?

Philip gave my shoulder a squeeze, then moved slowly forward, tranq gun in his hand, while I stayed bravely behind him. He was steadier now. Hopefully he’d stay that way until we dealt with whatever was down the tunnel, whether it was a Saberton guard or a giant talking rat.

“There’s someone there,” Philip murmured.

“A person?” I peered cautiously around him and barely made out a form on the ground, but I couldn’t see enough to rule out Giant Talking Rat just yet.

“Yes, a person.” He continued forward then let out a soft curse. “Saberton uniform.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. “They followed us. They found us.”

Philip paused, drew a deep breath through his nose. “I don’t hear or smell any others.”

I sniffed as well, then frowned. “Wait. I don’t smell this guy either.” That made no sense. I was definitely hungry enough to smell human brains.

Curiosity overrode my weenieness, and we closed the distance. The man lay crumpled on his side, either unconscious or faking it really well, and most definitely in a Saberton uniform.

Philip flipped open his phone and shone the feeble light on the man’s face.

“It’s Gentry,” Philip said, following it with a curse as he continued to scan around us.

Mr. Perfect Eyebrows? I owed him a few dozen knees to the balls for mistreating Pietro. I moved closer, baffled. The voice had sounded a lot like his, and it sure as hell looked like him, though for some reason his eyebrows didn’t look as precisely pruned as usual. I crouched and sniffed, then sniffed again. “This doesn’t make sense,” I said. “There’s no way this is Gentry. It can’t be.” I looked up. “Philip, this is a zombie .”