Diana Rowland - Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

He stood when we entered and came over to give Marcus a warm hug. “Good to see you, my boy. Very glad you could make it.” He then turned to me. “And you must be Angel. I’ve heard a bit about you.” But before I could respond he glanced to Marcus. “Close the door, please. Then we can talk.”

That wasn’t encouraging. Looked like I was in for another third degree on whether Marcus could do better than me.

Pietro turned back to me and gestured toward a chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

I didn’t want to sit in the chair, mostly because I wanted to sit next to Marcus. Not to be all publicly affectionate with him, but because I was really fucking needing some reassurance at this point, and a simple hand-holding would have suited me just fine. But I went ahead and sat in the indicated chair, then realized that Pietro probably knew exactly what he was doing and had wanted me separated from Marcus so that he could get a better idea of what kind of person I was. A nervous wreck , I thought with a silent sigh.

Marcus closed the door and took the chair next to mine. Still too far apart for me to reach out and take his hand or anything, at least not without me looking like a complete spaz. Which I probably already looked like. Yes, my self-esteem was currently hovering somewhere below rock bottom.

I expected Pietro to sit on the edge of the desk, thereby allowing him to loom over us, or at the very least take the seat behind the desk so that he could be more boss-like. But to my surprise he pulled a third chair over so that we formed a circle. Or a triangle. A circular triangle.

He glanced at the door as if to verify that it was shut, then picked a remote up from a side table and turned on some sort of vaguely familiar classical music. “The speakers are pointed so that it’s louder by the door,” he explained to me. “Makes it pretty much impossible to eavesdrop on us from there.” He set the remote down and then leaned back in the chair. I tried to hide how freaked out I was at the sudden display of security. “So, tell me, Angel,” he said. “How are you adjusting to being a zombie?”

“It’s fucking weird,” I said, then flushed at my complete lack of couth. “Sorry, sir, I mean, it’s pretty odd, but I think I’m getting a handle on it.”

The smile he gave me was almost friendly. Almost. “I don’t mind an f-bomb, Angel. Especially considering that you saved Marcus from the hunter.”

At first I thought he meant a deer hunter, and it took me a couple of seconds of mental floundering to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Hell, I was a redneck. Of course I’d think of deer hunting first. “You mean Ed?” I asked, just in case.

“Yes. The zombie hunter.” He shifted, crossed one leg over the other. “I confess I was less than thrilled when Marcus told me he’d created a zombie. There are sustainability issues, you understand.”

I knew I looked perplexed. “You make it sound like he put me together in his garage,” I said. “And no, I don’t understand. What are, um, sustainability issues?” Hell, they already knew I was uneducated. What, I was going to lower their opinion of me?

“I’m referring to how to keep our population fed without resorting to means that would draw attention to us.”

“Oh, you mean how to get enough brains,” I said. Why the hell couldn’t he have said that?

Pietro tipped his head in a nod. “Precisely. You are a new zombie, which means that your need is somewhat higher. You probably consume, what, a full brain a week? Perhaps a bit more?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” I said. Hey, look at that, something resembling some answers. “You saying I won’t always stay this hungry? How long does that last?”

“About a year. It will gradually taper off a bit to where, with normal exertion, you’ll be able to make a brain last about a week and a half. But, this still means that the average zombie needs about forty brains a year.” He gave me a sardonic smile. “I’m sure you can see why our population needs to be strictly controlled.” He met my eyes, and I had zero doubt that he would have preferred that my population had been controlled, perhaps even before I’d been made a zombie.

Well, fuck him and fuck this whole thing. I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now,” I said with a tight smile. “And I guess you’re all right with Ed taking a bunch of y’all out?”

He frowned. “We don’t kill our own. There are plenty of others willing to do that for us—and Ed is a perfect example.”

Marcus cleared his throat softly. “Angel, Ed’s not the only zombie hunter out there.”

Pietro waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. There are ways to deal with these hunters.”

“Is that who you think stole the body?” I asked. “Zombie hunters?”

Pietro’s eyebrows drew down in a frown. “What body?”

“Angel was held up at gunpoint last night,” Marcus quickly explained. “They took the body of a man who was killed in a fall out at the lab where Sofia works.”

Pietro pursed his lips. “Very mysterious. But unless the victim was a zombie, I can’t see why you’d think hunters would be involved.”

I silently bristled at both his “you silly idiot” tone and the fact that, apparently, Marcus hadn’t talked to Pietro about the body. So why was it so goddamn important that we come see his uncle so soon? I cast my mind back over our conversations. As far as I could remember he’d definitely given the impression that the body theft was the big reason why we needed to see him.

Or maybe I was reading more into it. Maybe Marcus was more worried about Ed. I knew I was stressed and on edge, so it was more than possible that I was being overly sensitive.

“I couldn’t smell his brains,” I said. “I was hungry, and he had a significant skull fracture.”

Pietro’s mouth curved into a slight frown. “And so you automatically assume he was a zombie? I know the procedures for this sort of thing…didn’t the paramedics run an EKG strip on him?”

“Well, yes but—”

“With only a skull fracture he would still have heartbeat, though very slow,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking the trace of patronizing sneer in his voice.

I shot a look at Marcus, but he remained silent, a pained look on his face. He met my eyes and gave a slight shrug that was clearly meant to convey “I told you so.”

Anger and betrayal swept through me, and I had to bite the side of my tongue hard to hold back the urge to either cry or shout a bunch of curse words. “Right. Then I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I managed.

Pietro said nothing, but the look in his eyes echoed my sentiment. Marcus cleared his throat. “Angel, you’re one of us now. That’s why you’re here. We’re mostly worried about Ed and whoever else he might be working with.”

I took a deep breath to get my ragged emotions under control. “What about the other zombies in the area? Have you warned them about Ed?”

Pietro nodded. “The ones who are in our circle know.”

“Your circle?” I echoed, frowning. “What does that mean? Are there others?”

Marcus reached and patted my leg. “He means we’ve contacted everyone we know for certain are zombies.” He gave me a reassuring smile, but an uneasy knot remained in my gut.

But I also knew that I’d be wasting my time and breath if I started asking more questions. “Gotcha,” I said instead and did my best to smile.

“Very well,” Pietro said, standing. “Then we should rejoin the party.” He looked my way as I scrambled to my feet. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”

I shook my head. He didn’t really want to discuss shit with me.