Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

Page 42

I came out of the observation room and saw Dr. Charish by the door at the end of the hallway, urging two guards loaded down with computer equipment to hurry the hell up. She turned and saw me, then gave a little shriek of horror as she dove through the doorway and put her shoulder to the door to get it closed. I dug in hard, running faster than I’d ever run in my life, but it clanged shut just seconds before I reached it. I slammed hard into it in the hopes of forcing it open again, but only managed to do something unpleasant to my shoulder as a heavy click told me the door had latched and locked.
Scowling, I rotated my shoulder while I assessed the door and the surrounding frame. I briefly thought about trying to shoot out the lock, but then grudgingly admitted that shooting the lock probably wouldn’t work at all the way it did in the movies. Besides, I’d seen something through that heavy door before it closed. It was all clean and white and new paint where I was, but outside that door was another story entirely—rust and grime and broken windows.
And I knew exactly where I was.
I could hear voices beyond the door, so I leaned close and listened.
“She won’t get through that,” Dr. Charish said. She was breathing hard, but she sounded calmer. Apparently she was pretty confident that I was stuck. “It doesn’t matter now. We intended for this facility to be temporary. That’s why we built it out in this shithole. We have Philip. It’s time to move on to the next phase.”
The government dude responded, but they were moving off, and I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Unfortunately, my busy little parasite was fixing up my shoulder instead of keeping me in super zombie mode. Damn it.
I wasn’t getting through that door or the walls, I knew that. But there was another way out that these assholes probably hadn’t counted on. At least I sure as hell hoped they hadn’t.
I ran back to the observation room and yanked at the edge of the carpet. I didn’t know a lot about computers, but even I knew that a super secret government lab wasn’t going to advertise its presence or risk being hacked with a wireless network. And, perhaps they’d even use the conduits that were already in place.
I grinned as I saw the floor panels beneath the carpeting. As I’d suspected and hoped, the cabling for the computers and cameras and stuff had been strung through the service tunnels beneath the floor. And they’d even been nice enough to not screw the floor panels back down again. I was sure they’d never imagined that their prisoner would know about those tunnels.
Damn good thing I’m a skinny little bitch, I thought as I shimmied through the narrow tunnel. And also a damn good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic. Or afraid of the dark, since it was black as utter pitch in the tunnel. I continued to listen hard as I slid myself along while doing my best to ignore the dirt, dead bugs—and live bugs—and occasional dead rat. After a few minutes I was pretty sure I was beyond the section where I’d been held and which was now locked down. Now I simply had to keep going until I could find a way out.
Gradually I began to hear voices, and I slowed, not wanting to give away my position. Give away my position, I thought with a silly grin. Heh. Boy, didn’t I sound like a secret agent?
“We’re not going to simply leave her to rot,” the suited dude was saying. For an instant I thought that maybe he was having a moment of compassion, then he continued. “Too much risk of someone coming here and finding her. We’re all set to…” Then he moved off, and I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation.
Oh well. So much for compassion.
I saw light ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. They’d never bothered to replace the section of flooring that had been removed to get the dead copper thief out. I edged ever so cautiously to the opening and peeked out. Dr. Charish was there along with Suited Government Dude. Four guards were quickly packing computers and boxes into the back of a familiar white van. Two other guards were lying crumpled on the ground, yet everyone seemed to be ignoring them. Had they tried to rebel or something and been killed?
After a few seconds of scanning, I located Philip sitting on the steps to the foreman’s office, and in almost the exact spot Marianne had been the last time I was here. I slid back into the tunnel and pulled the phone out. I had a signal now. But who to call? Ed didn’t have a phone, and I couldn’t remember Marcus’s number…But I did remember Pietro’s since it was so similar to Randy’s.
And, man, did I ever have some things to say to that motherfucker. I scooched further back into the tunnel and dialed Pietro. I was about to leave him one fucking hell of a voicemail.
“Yes? Hello?” Pietro said.
He said he doesn’t answer if it’s an unfamiliar number, I remembered. Which means…
“McKinney?” Pietro said, sounding annoyed. “What the hell is going on? Why are you calling me?”
I pushed aside my brief shock. “Hello, Uncle Pietro,” I said speaking low and cupping my hand around the phone. “You probably figured you were well rid of me, right? Guess I’m not so easy to kill, even for a zombie.”
I heard his intake of breath. “Angel? Where are you? Marcus has been going crazy with worry.”
“Oh, really? And did you tell him how you threw me under the bus and told Dr. Charish that I was fair game for her experiments? Did you know she’s screwing you over too and working with the government to make zombie soldiers?” My voice shook with anger, and I had to fight to keep speaking quietly.
“Angel, I…wait, what? What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
The shock in his voice was genuine, and I would have laughed if I wasn’t still so pissed. “Me? Oh, no, you’re not putting that shit on me. You started this, pal, when you unleashed your pet, Charish, on me. But now you have bigger problems than free-market fake brains. Why don’t you come to the old Ford factory on the Kreeger River and see for yourself. Then we can have a nice long talk, ’kay?”
“Wait, Angel,” he sounded truly frantic. “You don’t understand. I never—”
I disconnected, quite pleased with how upset he sounded. Good. He deserved that much and more, the fucker.
I dialed 911 next. “Oh my god, please help!” I babbled in a hoarse whisper as soon as the dispatcher answered. “I’m in some big warehouse thing by the Kreeger River. There’s a huge drug deal going down, and I think a gang war is about to start. They already killed two guys. There are guns everywhere. Please help!” There, that should be enough to get a few units sent.
“Ma’am, please remain calm,” a woman responded. “Can you be more specific as to your location? Your phone has its GPS disabled.”
“I heard someone say something about Ford?” I said, trying to sound panicked. “Does that sound right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I know where you are. I’m dispatching units to you right now.” I heard the click of a keyboard. “How many suspects are there?”
“Twenty…maybe thirty?” I lied. “I don’t know. They kidnapped me but I got away, and I’m hiding right now.”
“It’s going to be all right,” the woman said in a calm voice, though I could detect an edge of excitement. It wasn’t everyday that the St. Edwards Parish sheriff’s office had an excuse to call out their SWAT team. “I need you to tell me everything you can about what’s going on. What’s your name? Are there any other hostages?”
“I’m, um, Charmaine, and I think there are some others,” I said, warming to my story. “I saw a—” I let out a squawk of alarm and dropped the phone as the floor above me gave a massive shudder.
“Ma’am?” I heard the dispatcher say. “Charmaine? Is everything all right? Talk to me.”
Light flooded over me, and I looked up to see Philip pulling the entire section of flooring away. One of his eyes was clouded over and his right ear hung oddly on the side of his head. His cracked lips peeled back in a grotesque smile.
“Hello, Mother.”
Chapter 28
I let out an unholy scream—totally for the benefit of the dispatcher, of course—then braced myself since I knew what was coming next. Sure thing, Philip grabbed me by the front of my shirt, yanked me out and held me up with one hand. I screamed again, but this time purely for my own sake as Philip turned and tossed me a good dozen feet. I landed hard in a sprawling slide that managed to scrape several layers of skin from my hip and shoulder and sent a sharp jab of pain through my chest. One of these days I probably needed to learn how to tuck and roll and all that crap.
But I had to deal with a pissed off zombie-baby right now. I staggered to my feet and yanked the gun out of the holster. Philip paused in his approach, then let out a dry, rasping laugh. “That can’t kill me. You should know that.”
“I know, but I need you to listen to me for just a few seconds.” Holy shit, I sure as hell didn’t want to try to actually fight this guy. I’d burned through most of my excess brains and, judging by my growing hunger, I’d suffered more injury than just a few scrapes from being thrown. Plus, Philip actually knew how to fight.
“Look, there’s something wrong,” I said urgently. “You shouldn’t be rotting so quickly. It’s the fake brains that Doc gave you. They…” I trailed off, only now seeing the two guards that I’d thought were dead. They were slowly getting to their feet, and had gaping bites on their neck and shoulders. And the look in their eyes…
“Oh, that’s not good,” I breathed.
“Forget her!” Dr. Charish yelled from the van as she brandished something in her hand that looked like a protein bar. The two new zombies turned and began loping toward her. “Let’s go, Sergeant! We’re about to blow this place. There’s no way she’ll get clear in time.” She grinned nastily. “Now get your ass in the van!”
Ah, shit. Now I saw the little tan chunks placed around the factory next to barrels that probably had something flammable in them, especially around the section I’d just managed to break out of. I’d watched enough Mythbusters to know what C-4 looked like. I heard sirens in the distance, and I knew there was no time left. There was no way these assholes were going to leave any evidence lying around.