Hardcore Twenty-Four

  I bit into my lower lip to keep from whimpering. “Do you think it’s totaled?”

  “Not in the traditional sense of being flattened by a garbage truck or being run off a bridge into the Delaware, but in the sense that no one is gonna want to drive it . . . hell, yeah.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I’d destroyed yet another of Ranger’s cars. And there was a bet riding on this. Double or nothing. I was in a relationship with Morelli, and I owed Ranger two nights. What was I thinking?

  I called Ranger, and he answered with the usual “Babe.”

  “Bad news,” I said. “It’s about your Lexus.”

  “One of my patrol cars drove by it an hour ago and said it was being circled by vultures.”

  “There was an unfortunate incident with a dead groundhog.”

  “I didn’t see that one coming,” Ranger said. “How bad is it?”

  “There are vultures circling. How bad do you think it is?”

  Silence.

  “You’re laughing again, aren’t you?” I asked him.

  “Do I need to send someone in a hazmat suit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need another car? I’m running a tab.”

  “No. I don’t need another car. I’m going to get Big Blue.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Big Blue is a 1953 blue and white Buick Roadmaster in prime condition. My grandmother inherited it, and it now sits in my parents’ garage and is available to borrow. It drives like a tank, and while some might think old cars are cool, I feel like an idiot in it. That said, it’s free and comes with no strings attached.

  “What’s the plan?” Lula asked.

  “Ranger is going to take care of the Lexus. I’m going to borrow Big Blue.”

  “I’ll give you a ride. Then I’m going to get my nails done. I like my nails to be looking good. I get a chip in my nail varnish, and my juju goes in the dumper.”

  NINETEEN

  GRANDMA OPENED THE door when I stepped onto the front porch. “We’re done with lunch,” she said, “but I can fix you a sandwich if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks. I’ve already eaten.” Three Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, two Snickers bars, and a bag of M&M’s. “I thought you had a date with Willie Kuber.”

  “It got over early. He got bursitis playing skillo. He was a dud anyway. All he could talk about was his prostate, and how he was getting radiation, and his prostate was going to turn into a useless leather hacky sack. I got an idea his prostate was useless before he got zapped.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah. How are you doing with Johnny Chucci?”

  “I captured him, but he shot himself in the foot, so I left him with his mother.”

  “Was he wearing his underpants on his head?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I bet that would be something to see.”

  “I’m going to borrow Big Blue for a couple days.”

  “Help yourself. The keys are in the car.”

  I backed the Buick out of the garage and drove the short distance to Morelli’s house. I let myself in and found Morelli in front of the television with a bag of chips and a beer. Bob was on the couch next to him.

  “This game sucks,” he said when he saw me. “Both teams suck.”

  I sat down at the far end of the couch and helped myself to some chips. I gave a couple to Bob and ate the rest.

  “I need to feed Ethel,” I said. “Want to ride shotgun?”

  “Yeah. I live to feed Ethel.”

  “As a special bonus, you could look in the woods for zombies.”

  “Sorry. It’s my day off from zombies.”

  I went to the kitchen and looked in his fridge. Half a leftover pepperoni pizza. Two boxes of frozen waffles in the freezer. A loaf of bread on the counter. I gathered them all up and put them in a grocery bag.

  Morelli followed me. “What’s with the food in the bag?”

  “It’s for Ethel. I’m out of rotisserie chicken money. I had some really great roadkill for her, but it exploded.”

  “I’m not even going to ask.”

  “I appreciate that, because I don’t want to talk about it.”

  • • •

  We took Morelli’s car and drove down Diggery’s road in silence, scanning the cleared areas and surrounding woods. We wouldn’t admit to believing in zombies, but it was hard to dispute the presence of zombie-like things.

  Morelli parked close to the double-wide, and I carefully entered and looked around. Ethel was coiled in the bedroom doorway.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Lunch.”

  I dumped the food on the dining table and returned to Morelli.

  “How was it in there?” he asked, as I climbed into the front seat.

  “Nothing new. How was it out here?”

  “Lonely. Would you like to get naked?”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a long time since we did it in a car.”

  “We never did it in a car.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You must be thinking of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of women you did in a car.”

  “We almost did it in a car.”

  “Yes. Almost.”

  He leaned across the gearshift and kissed me. His hand slid under my T-shirt and found my breast. His touch was warm and gentle. The first kiss was soft. The second kiss was pure passion. He unsnapped my bra, and his phone rang. We both froze. The phone kept ringing. Morelli yanked the phone out of his pocket and threw it out the window. The ringing stopped for a moment and then resumed.

  “Probably you should answer it,” I said. “It sounds official.”

  Morelli got out of the car and retrieved his phone. He had a short conversation and got back into the car.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “That was dispatch. Some woman claims she was chased out of her house by a zombie.”

  “Is this for real? Are you sure you aren’t being punked?”

  Morelli shrugged and rolled the engine over. “I’ll know when I get there. She’s on Surrey Street. That’s two blocks from the Morley Street cemetery . . . the epicenter of zombie activity.”

  “I feel like I’m in a Ghostbusters movie.”

  “Yeah, this is a ten on the weird-o-meter. I find myself feeling nostalgic for the good old days when I was sticking to blood-soaked floors, investigating gang killings.”

  “After you talk to her, are you going to come home?”

  “Yep.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I’m going to make you happy,” Morelli said.

  “You’re going to give me a back rub?”

  “I’m going to rub every square inch of you.”

  Oh boy.

  • • •

  Morelli left me at his house and drove away. I didn’t expect him to return anytime soon. He’d interview the woman and then get stuck at the station doing paperwork. I went to the kitchen and got a soda out of the fridge. I turned and bumped into Diesel.

  “Jeez Louise,” I said. “What the heck?”

  “How’s it going?” Diesel asked.

  When I found my voice, it was an octave higher than normal. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d stop in to say hello.”

  “You can’t just pop into Morelli’s house.”

  “Sure, I can. It’s easy. His locks are crap.” Diesel looked in the fridge. “There’s nothing to eat in here.”

  “I gave the leftovers to Ethel.”

  “The snake? How’s she doing?”

  “She’s doing okay.”

  Diesel looked in the cupboard and found a bag of pretzels. He helped himself to a beer and ate the pretzels.

  “I
like the pool table in the dining room,” he said. “Nice touch.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Working. Looking for a guy.”

  “All day and night?”

  “Whatever it takes,” Diesel said, offering the pretzels to me.

  I took a handful and got myself a beer. “Were you looking for him in the Morley Street cemetery?”

  “Yeah. No luck.”

  “Don’t suppose you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not much to tell,” Diesel said. “He’s sort of a new age zombie.”

  “For real?”

  Diesel shrugged. “As real as a zombie could get.”

  “The police have a video of you in the cemetery. It was taken by one of my FTAs. Zero Slick.”

  “Little guy? Brown ponytail?”

  “Yes. He’s disappeared.”

  “How’d they get the video if he disappeared?”

  “He left his GoPro behind. Don’t suppose you know where I can find him?”

  “No. Maybe he’s hanging with the zombies.”

  “Do you believe in zombies?”

  “Honey pie, I believe in almost everything. Simplifies a lot of shit.”

  “You were there when the zombies attacked Slick,” I said. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

  “They didn’t attack him when I was there. I was tracking my target, and I passed a couple locals, but I didn’t see any zombies.”

  “Their eyes were glowing in the video.”

  “Almost all eyes glow in infrared. There was probably a time lapse between frames that you didn’t notice.”

  I grabbed another handful of pretzels. It was possible. Maybe.

  “I thought you were supposed to be this super tracker,” I said. “Why can’t you find your guy?”

  “He has his own skill set.”

  “Could you find Slick?”

  “Slick isn’t my problem.”

  “Yes, but he’s my problem. And I could use some help.”

  Diesel grinned. “Maybe we could make a deal.”

  Omigod, another deal! Isn’t it enough I have to sleep with Ranger? Okay, let’s get real. I want to sleep with both these men. I mean, who wouldn’t? Damnation. I was going straight to hell.

  “What did you have in mind?” I asked.

  “If I find him for you, I get to see you naked.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Should I have asked for more?”

  “No!”

  “I figure once you’re naked . . . who knows.”

  I squinched my eyes closed and smacked myself in the forehead. “Unh!”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “No! It would feel icky to get naked and have you look at me.”

  “Okay, so how about strip poker?”

  “No way. I’ve seen you play poker.”

  “You pick a game.”

  “Old Maid.”

  “Works for me. Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Do you have something better to do?”

  I followed him to the door. “Do you have a car? Do you know where to look?”

  “Yes and no. Here’s the way it works. You tell me where you want to look. We go there and walk around, and if he’s there I’ll probably know.”

  “I could do that.”

  “Yeah, but I can do it better. Where do you want to look?”

  “His parents’ house. The cemetery. The woods around Diggery’s double-wide.”

  We stepped outside, I locked the door, and looked at the car parked behind Big Blue. It was a red Ferrari.

  “That’s your car?” I asked.

  “It was available. I take what they give me.”

  “‘They’?”

  “My handlers.”

  I stared at him. “Who are you?”

  “Diesel,” he said. “Just Diesel.”

  “And that’s another thing. Don’t you have a last name?”

  “It’s Diesel, so you see the problem.”

  “You’re Diesel Diesel?”

  “My parents had a sense of humor not shared by the rest of the family. On the bright side, I have a cousin named Gerewulf Grimoire, so I suppose I should be happy.”

  He put his hand on the small of my back and moved me forward. I slid into the Ferrari and buckled up.

  “Where would you like to go first?” he asked, settling behind the wheel.

  Slick’s parents were a long shot, and Morelli was most likely still in the vicinity of Morley Street, so I went with Diggery’s woods.

  Diesel drove down the single-lane road without looking side to side. He said it distracted from his radar. If anyone else said this I’d roll my eyes, but this was Diesel and what the heck, maybe he really had radar.

  We parked in Diggery’s yard at the end of the road and got out of the car. We stood very still and listened.

  “Well?” I asked Diesel.

  “It’s quiet here. It’s like it’s not even Trenton. Wouldn’t be half bad if it had some palm trees and a beach.”

  “There are a bunch of abandoned shelters tucked away in the woods. Cars, storage sheds, houses, tents. We could do a search of the area and see if any of these places are being used by . . . um, you-know-whats.”

  “Zombies?”

  “Yes.”

  I wouldn’t search the woods on my own. I’m not that brave, and I know my limitations. Even with Diesel I wasn’t entirely comfortable snooping around. I’d been chased by dogs, and my car had been attacked by a zombie in Diggery’s woods. And to make matters worse, I was operating without a pack of wieners.

  “The road isn’t that long,” Diesel said. “A couple miles. We can walk down it and check out possible zombie dens.”

  “What will we do if we find zombies?”

  “We’ll ask them if they’ve seen Slick.”

  TWENTY

  IT TOOK US an hour to reach the end of Diggery’s road. Most of the houses had people living in them. The people didn’t look all that great, but none of them looked like zombies. The dilapidated tents and yurts and sheds were also zombie free. We were almost back to Diggery’s double-wide, and I realized we were at the bend in the road where I ran into the zombie. There were no houses here. It was heavily wooded on both sides, but now that I was on foot, I could see a path threading between the trees.

  “I suppose we should see where that leads,” I said to Diesel. “This is where I bounced the zombie off my right front quarter panel.”

  Diesel looked at me and grinned. “You ran over a zombie?”

  “I didn’t exactly run over him. He was in the middle of the road, and I kind of punted him to one side. By the time I got out of the car, he was gone.”

  “Honey, it’s not good to piss off a zombie.”

  “That’s what Lula said.”

  Diesel hugged me to him and kissed me on the top of the head. “This is getting to be fun.”

  Diesel followed the trail, and I followed Diesel. After a short walk, we came to a hole that had been dug in the ground. It was about six feet deep, and it looked like a tunnel opened off to one side. A ladder was propped against the wall of the hole.

  Diesel jumped in and looked around.

  “What’s down there?” I asked.

  “A tunnel. Mostly dirt shored up with some wood. Smells like dirt and carnations.”

  “Zombies!”

  “Sweetheart, zombies only exist in Hollywood.”

  “I thought you said you believed in everything.”

  He looked up at me. “Rule number one. Never believe anything I tell you. I’m going to see where this tunnel leads. You want to come along?”

  “No! How can you see in there? Do you have a flashlight?”

  “I have good night vis
ion.”

  “Am I supposed to believe that?”

  “Your choice.”

  He disappeared into the tunnel, and I was left standing on the edge of the hole. I called down to Diesel, but he didn’t answer. It was late afternoon, and it was getting dark under the tree canopy. I checked my email and slid my phone back into my pocket. I heard rustling behind me, turned, and came face-to-face with a zombie woman. Two men were behind her.

  “I’d like your brain,” she whispered to me.

  Her face was smeared with dirt, and her hair was fright night. Her voice was six-packs-of-Camels-a-day raspy.

  I stumbled back and almost fell into the hole. I yelled for Diesel, and then I took off. The zombies were in the path, so I ran through the woods in blind panic. I tripped and scraped my knee and my hands. I got up, listened for footsteps, and heard that they weren’t far behind. I ran toward a patch of light and came out at Diggery’s double-wide. I tried to get into the car, but it was locked. Diesel had the key. I ran for Diggery’s front door, put my shoulder to it, and popped it open. I slammed the door shut and slid the bolt.

  I was gasping for air, bent at the waist, and I saw Ethel looking at me. She was curled on the dining table.

  “It’s you and me against the zombies,” I said to Ethel. “I’m counting on you.”

  There was banging on the door and some doorknob rattling. A moment of silence and then a rag-wrapped fist smashed through the window over the table. It broke the glass away, and a grotesque face looked in at me. Ethel raised her head and hissed at the face, and the face fell away.

  God bless Ethel. I was going to bring her a leg of lamb tomorrow. A porterhouse steak. A ham.

  I rummaged through Diggery’s kitchen drawers and found a chef’s knife. I went to his bedroom and searched for a gun. I found one under the bed. It was a long-barrel revolver, and it was loaded. Grandma had a similar gun.

  I went back to Ethel and was about to dial Ranger when Diesel called.

  “I’m outside,” he said. “Open the door.”

  “I thought you had this mysterious ability to open doors.”

  “I didn’t want to startle the snake.”

  “You don’t like snakes?”

  “Not my favorite.”

  I opened the door and looked past Diesel to the woods, checking for red eyes.