Diana Rowland - Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

He flushed, shoulders slumping. “I swear to you, I thought the worst that might happen would be that you’d feel sick.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said. I didn’t buy that for a second, because otherwise why not allow any of his other zombies to be guinea pigs? But I wasn’t going to pursue it right now. I had other shit to take care of first. “Please, go on,” I told him.

He didn’t look at me, which was probably a very good idea on his part. “Sofia was a brilliant girl,” he continued, “and came up with a protocol that would allow her to test her formulations without risking any ‘living’ zombies. About six months ago, she told me she was close to a breakthrough. I’m confident that, given a bit more time, she would have perfected it. She was meticulous. Did not wish to cut any corners or take undue risks.”

“Six months ago was when I started getting mystery packages in the mail,” Ed said, expression bleak.

“Exactly,” I said. “I think that the darling Dr. Kristi Charish has had plans for the zombies for quite some time. But it all depended on being able to develop a dependable and plentiful food source.”

“You mean making super soldiers?” Ed asked. “She’d worked on enough government grants to know who to go to with her idea. But, of course, first she had to prove she wasn’t totally full of shit.”

I leaned forward, tapped the table. “I bet she told them she had something that worked. She jumped the gun, and then got impatient when Sofia was taking her sweet time. So she copied Sofia’s research, got Ed to grab some zombie heads for her to experiment on, and told the government dweebs she was good to go.”

It was Ed’s turn to flush in shame, but I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. She’s a world-class manipulator.”

“I know,” he said in a low voice. “But I’ll never forget how close I came to killing the two of you.”

“Just means you have to buy my beer until the end of time,” Marcus said with a grin.

Ed laughed weakly. “Sounds more than fair.”

“But why did she want only the heads and not the whole zombie?” I asked.

“She didn’t have the funding, support, or facility to house captive zombies,” Pietro stated. “To store heads, all she needed was a cooler. And, at the time, the heads—and brains—were all she required for her research.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Makes sense.” I cocked my head. “But we can’t forget that the darling Doctor Charish is on the loose now and god-only-knows where with live zombies of her own.”

“I have many connections,” Pietro stated. “She will not slip my net.”

“Oh, really?” I retorted. “She worked under your nose for how long? Pardon me if I don’t trust your ‘net.’”

Pietro grimaced and didn’t respond. Ha! Point to Angel.

“Okay,” I said. “So she got the heads and regrew at least one zombie that we know of using the fake brains.” I looked at Marcus. “By the way, dude, I think it’s insanely cool that it’s possible to do that.”

“I never knew it was,” he admitted. “It’s probably never been tried before because of the huge amount of brains it no doubt takes.”

That was a good point. It had taken quite a few brains to heal me up from a number of injuries that were only mildly life-threatening.

“And yes,” Marcus continued, “you apparently were right, and Zeke was trying to escape from the lab. But the fake brains screwed him up somehow, and he didn’t grow back properly.”

I grinned. “Now was that so hard? You need to accept I’m right a lot quicker in the future.”

He chuckled and gave me a squeeze. “I’ll do my best.”

Pietro cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was not long after this that Kristi came to me, again asking for a…volunteer.”

I scowled. “I still don’t understand why she felt the need to come to you for this. Why didn’t she simply go out and kidnap the first zombie she could find? I mean, why did she need your permission? She was already way over the line, right?”

Pietro was silent for a moment. “I am very old,” he finally said. He looked up at Marcus. “Far older than you suspect, I am certain,” he told Marcus. His gaze shifted to me for a fraction of a second, but in that instant it was as if he dropped a veil. Suddenly I could feel the immense weight of years and experiences and accumulated triumphs and grief. Then he looked away and the sensation was gone.

This dude has been a zombie a helluva lot longer than thirty years , I realized.

“Over the years I have been careful to cultivate influence,” he continued. “Kristi was right to be wary of my anger, and I’m certain that she was careful not to ‘cross the line,’ so to speak, until she was positioned with influence that she hopes can match mine.”

I kept the icy look on my face and didn’t respond.

He let out a soft sigh. “Yet having experience and influence has not saved me from doing some colossally foolish things.” He met my eyes again, but I didn’t get the “holy crap, he’s been around a long time” vibe this time, to my relief.

“I behaved utterly heinously to you,” he said. Then his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Marcus has expressed his displeasure quite vehemently.” He paused. “ Quite vehemently. But he has stated that his forgiveness of me is entirely conditional on you, and whether you can accept my apology.”

Well, whaddya know. Marcus was letting me control my own damn life. I slid a look toward him, but he was doing that stony-impossible-to-read face thing. He was so damn cute when he did that.

“I’m a lot like my dad,” I said to Pietro. “I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. And as much as it would be great and awesome for everyone to forgive each other, and we all have a big group-fucking-hug, I can’t tell you I forgive you until I actually feel it and believe that you really do regret what happened and that you’re not just blowing smoke up my ass.”

The barest hint of a smile curved the edge of Pietro’s mouth and he gave a grave nod. “That seems eminently fair.” He turned his attention to Ed.

Ed held up his hand before Pietro could speak. “We’ll talk later,” he said, eyes dark and haunted.

“Of course,” Pietro replied, subdued.

“So, um, here’s what I don’t quite get,” I said, eager to bust up the sudden weird tension. “How did she get the head of security at the lab to do all of her dirty work, including killing several people? And why didn’t she simply get McKinney to get the zombie heads she needed?”

“I did some research on him after he snatched you,” Ed said. “With the help of Pietro I found out that his real name is William Rook and he’s, well, like an evil Jason Bourne-type. Super spy, assassin, mercenary type of dude, rumored to be involved in any number of covert government operations. In other words, he pretty much specializes in doing the dirty work.” He paused as the waitress came by to refill coffees. We all gave her friendly smiles, then immediately leaned in close again as soon as she walked off. “And Dr. Kristi Charish hired him less than a month ago. After she was able to prove that her zombie soldier concept had some merit.”

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “He wasn’t doing her dirty work. He was keeping an eye on her and doing what was needed for this whole government conspiracy zombie project thing.”

“Correct,” Pietro said. “He is a very dangerous man.” A pained look flashed over his face. “I wish I’d thought to have him checked out sooner, but Kristi assured me that she’d investigated him thoroughly and that I could trust him.” He didn’t say more, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Pietro had used McKinney for some dirty work of his own.