“What the hell?” Straightening, he brandished the duct tape like a weapon. “You can’t just . . .” He trailed off, face paling as he got a good look at me.
I plucked the duct tape from his limp fingers. “Thanks,” I said, turned and leaped nimbly into the seat then shoved the roll of tape up to my left bicep like a warrior queen’s armband. That was me, Zombie Redneck Warrior Queen.
“I’ll bring it right back!” I hollered as I sped off. With any luck, he might even believe me.
Rosario’s scent trail dissipated as I followed it through the Fest grounds, but I tamped down the urge to race around in a mindless search, and gunned the ATV in the direction of the zombie hunt prep area. I’d whacked Rosario’s worldview with a big ol’ fact-hammer, and I had a feeling he’d seek terrain where he felt at ease and in control. He’d spent countless hours in the woods with Marla for searches, so for him it would be like having a home court advantage. If I was wrong, I risked losing his trail for good, but it wasn’t as if I had any clues besides my gut feeling. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the prep area and picked up Rosario’s scent.
Now the hunt was on.
His trail floated in the air and clung to the ground, as clear and palpable as tendrils of glowing red. I raced after it, lights flashing in the oversized plastic brain as if the ATV was an undead emergency vehicle. Though I wasn’t anywhere near an expert at driving a four-wheeler, the megadose of V12 had cranked my reflexes up to I’m-a-God level, and that made all the difference in the world. Adjusting my weight and balance with precision, I sped onward, ignoring the underbrush that whipped at my legs. I veered around trees and soared over gulleys, handling the machine with ludicrous ease when lesser mortals would have been crushed to death a dozen times over already.
The scent trail thickened, and the taste of him washed over my tongue. Sweat and worry, grief and determination. Worried about Marla. Driven to return to Kristi.
The sound of his ATV reached me next, an unsteady noise that fluctuated between roar and rumble. Rosario’s reflexes were merely human, sluggish compared to mine, and that forced him to slow through maneuvers that I took at speed.
I zoomed over a rise and caught a flash of purple streamers through the trees ahead. It didn’t seem possible that he could hear my vehicle over the sound of his own engine, but maybe his hind-brain felt the predator on his heels. His head whipped around, eyes widening in shock for an instant before he returned his focus to the woods and his flight.
I accelerated to try and close the gap, but he was making me work for it. He handled the ATV with the ease of a shitload of experience which damn near balanced out the disadvantage of his puny human reflexes.
It felt as if I’d been chasing him for hours, though less than ten minutes had passed since I hit the woods. The clock was ticking down on my superpowers, a looming threat that spurred me on. I’d lost the bloody mannequin a half mile back, but the big brain continued to flash merrily. Rosario skimmed past a tree and sheared off one duct-tape–and–papier-macˆhé zombie arm. It bounced in my direction, and I had to flatten myself to my seat, chicken wire fingers skimming my head as it flew past.
The distance between us shrank as I pursued with single-minded determination. Nothing else mattered but stopping Rosario, not only to save Bear but also to get Rosario—and his half-baked Save the Zombies plan—safely under the Tribe’s control.
The trees thinned and the ground leveled. Rosario poured on the speed, but my ATV was as powerful as his and carrying a lot less weight. Water sparkled in the distance as I gained ground on him. The Colemyke River. Not as big as the Kreeger but still at least a hundred feet across in this section and too deep to ride an ATV through. Elation surged through me. I had him trapped now.
Yet, inexplicably, he continued at full speed toward the river. My elation sputtered then shifted to outright dismay. No, he wasn’t trapped, not one stinking bit. He was going to drive straight in and then swim for it, let the current carry him far away from me. He was probably a good, strong swimmer, too. Goddammit. My swimming skills were adequate at best, and all the brains and V12 in the world wouldn’t make me fast enough to catch him in the water.
That meant I had to catch him on land, but easier said than done. I inched closer to him, even as the river seemed to rush at us. Rosario and I were still way too far apart, even for a god-like leap from my ATV to his—assuming my V12 supercharge hadn’t fizzled. In another thirty seconds we’d both be in the water. He’d win, and Bear and the Tribe and all zombies would lose.
No. We can’t lose. If we lose, we die. With a scream of rage and desperation, I ripped the flashing brain from the wires and zipties then chucked it at Rosario with all my might. It sailed toward him, and my anger melted into surprised delight as I watched the beautiful trajectory. I’d been worried that I’d underestimated my enhanced strength and overthrown it, but a long grey object dangled behind the brain, weighing it down just enough.
Wait. That’s my arm.
Brain and arm nailed Rosario right between the shoulder blades. He lurched forward, jerking the handlebars into an impossibly sharp turn.
That’s . . . my arm.
Brain and arm fell to earth. Rosario and the ATV soared through the air, twisting in a weirdly silent ballet of disaster. I watched in detached awe and horror as Rosario slammed against a tree and crumpled to the ground. An instant later the ATV smashed down inches from him then tumbled away, finally coming to rest on the sandy riverbank.
Sound rushed in, and I snapped out of my daze. Mouth dry, I grabbed the brake with my left—and only—hand and brought the ATV to a wobbly stop. My legs felt weird and shaky as I climbed off, but I chalked that up to the long and crazy ride through the woods. And possibly also the fact that I’d lost my fucking arm, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Rosario groaned, which meant he was still alive. I had to deal with him first.
My left leg gave out when I was a dozen feet away from him, and I covered the rest of the distance in an awkward three-point crawl. I shifted to a cockeyed kneel beside him as he breathed in shallow gasps. Didn’t look as if he had a head injury, but from the way he’d hit the tree I suspected his ribs were a mess.
“Where’s Bear?” I shouted. Or tried to. My voice had a scraping rasp to it, but he heard me well enough.
“Reefer . . . truck.” He gasped. “Blue and white . . . end of row . . . east side.”
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket. “If you’re lying—”
“Not.” Pain tightened his bloodless face as he swallowed. “Wasn’t . . . trying to kill Bear.”
I’d stopped listening to him. The fingers of my remaining hand had zero dexterity. I set the phone on the ground and dragged my knuckle across the screen to get Nick’s number, then gave it a clumsy tap to make the call and another to put it on speaker. As it rang, I shook the roll of duct tape off my bicep and down to my hand.
“Angel?”
“Your dad’s in a refrigerator truck,” I said, “east side, blue and white, at the end of the row.”
“I’m not far from there!”
“Then go warm his ass up.” I tried to smile but my face felt as if I’d spent hours in the dentist’s chair. “Keep me on the line, okay?” Damn it. The rasp in my voice was getting worse. “Wanna make sure he’s there.”
“You got it,” Nick said in a breathless voice that told me he was running.
Though I seriously doubted Rosario could sit up, much less run away, I’d been through too much to take any chances. With my teeth and one barely working hand, I wound bright pink duct tape around his wrists and forearms. I wanted to wrap his feet and ankles, too, but when I tried to crawl that way I fell to my side in a heap. What the fuck is happening to me?
“Angel! He’s okay! He was right where you said!”
“Nick.” Even through the deepening rasp I heard the panic in my
voice. “Something’s wrong. Rosario’s hurt, too, but I . . . need help.” My legs. My left shin and foot were a dozen feet away, back where I’d fallen and had to crawl. And my right . . .
“Shit,” Nick breathed. “Do you know where you are?”
Oh god. My right leg lay crooked by Rosario’s head. “River.” No, that didn’t help. The river curved around the property and covered miles and miles. “Marla. Get Marla. Find us. Help me.” I coughed out a gobbet of something dark and nasty. “Call . . . call Dr. Ne . . . Nikas.”
I heard shouting on Nick’s end, and running footsteps. I tried to reach for the phone only to watch my arm pull away from my shoulder like wet paper tearing. No pain. No sensation. Nothing.
“Hur . . . hurry.”
“We’re getting Marla. Just hang on. Dr. Degas? I don’t know who that is.”
“Nee Kahs.” Had he understood me? I flopped to my back and stared up at the sky, terrified that if I twitched a single muscle I’d disintegrate completely.
White fog closed in. Nick’s voice came through the speaker, distant and muddled. Rosario gasped in pain.
Drifting.
Dying.
I’m dying.
No. I can’t. I won’t. I’m a goddamn zombie, and zombies don’t die. Not this zombie.
Silence.
I can’t die. My dad. Who’ll take care of my dad?
Something bumped my head, and my world tilted.
“Marla . . . off.” Rosario.
“Angel!” Nick. Close.
“Oh my fucking god in heaven.” Bear.
Nick’s face swam above me then whizzed away. Puking. Lots of puking.
“Her phone,” Rosario wheezed. “Passcode . . . nine-six-two-four. Dr. Ariston Nikas.”
He knew my passcode? Annoyance came and went. “Nick,” I tried to say, but nothing came out. Not even a rasp.
Voices blended and dulled.
Thwup thwup thwup thwup thwup. Sound pounded through me. I dragged my thoughts together. Dr. Nikas. He’d brought the helicopter.
Nick knelt by Rosario’s head, his hands on each side, stabilizing.
Bear shouted and waved at the chopper.
Dr. Nikas’s voice came through the cell phone. Yes, we see you.
Movement and hustle. Lots of it.
Jacques and Nick shifted Rosario onto a backboard.
Dr. Nikas knelt beside me. “Angel, hold on. We’re here.”
This is really bad! Help me!
“We’re here.”
Bear scraped my rotten arms and legs into a body bag.
Rosario was gone. Only me now. What was left. Nick backed away, face lifeless as Dr. Nikas worked on me.
Nick.
Nick kept backing. Away. From me.
Nick.
Chapter 34
“Angel. Wiggle your fingers.”
Silly Dr. Nikas. Far away, muffly, Dr. Nikas. Wiggly. No fingers to wiggly.
“Angel.”
Warm. Weightless. Weird. Angel. That’s meeee.
“Increase the voltage.”
Voltage. ’Lectricity. Tingly. Stingy.
Bright.
“Her eyes are open. Any change in the readings?”
“Fluctuating.”
What the hell? Where am I? I can’t move. Dr. Nikas?!
“Heart rate increasing. Twenty-six. Thirty-four. Forty.”
“Angel. Wiggle your fingers.”
I’m trying! I can’t feel my hands. Do I have hands? Can’t feel anything. Brain is tingling. Everything’s blurry like I’m looking through—
Slug snot. I’m in slug snot! Shit!
“Heart rate forty-four.”
Jacques, Dr. Nikas, I can’t move! What happened? Why am I in the coffin tank?
“Angel.” A shape, a hand, wiggling in front of my eyes. “Blink.”
I’m trying, I swear. Fuck. I see you. I see you.
“Holding steady at forty-four.”
“Take her down again. She’s not ready.”
Yes, I am! I’m right here. I can hear you. I can see. Don’t.
• • •
Fish tanks ran the length of my kitchen counters. The call of seagulls and the crash-hiss of gentle surf drifted in through the window. Nice and peaceful. I hummed as I moved from tank to tank feeding hungry fish. French fries for the blue ones. Popcorn for the big red ones. Brussel sprouts for the yellow fishies that looked like my dad. Brain chunks for Judd’s head floating in a tank all by itself.
I jerked awake, breathing hard. An expanse of beach spread before me, complete with gorgeous sunset, rolling waves, and palm trees. No fish tanks. No Judd.
A dream. Just a stupid, horrible dream. My breathing settled, but confusion rose as I looked around. I was propped in a cushy bed in a windowless room. The screen for an ambiance immersion system took up the entire wall in front of me, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the others.
It had to be one of Dr. Nikas’s rooms, but that made no sense. I wiggled my fingers then tried to lift my hand, but my arm was stiff, wrapped in gauze. A nameless horror crept through me. I’m supposed to be dead. Wasn’t I? Why couldn’t I remember?
I struggled to sit up without success. I heard a knock on the door, then Dr. Nikas stepped into the room. “Angel?”
I sagged in relief. “What happened? I’m . . . alive.”
“Indeed you are.” A genuine smile lit his face. “Don’t try to move. Tomorrow, perhaps.” He pulled bandages aside and injected something near my collar bone. I expected a poke or sting, but felt only a brief wave of warmth. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like I could sleep for a year.”
His eyes crinkled. “Do you know my name?”
“Dr. Nikas? Ariston Nikas.” The whisper of relief in his eyes made me suspect there’d been a time when I hadn’t known it. Prickly warmth spread up my neck and down through my torso, and hazy memory woke like a fire stirred to life. “Wait. I was in Kang’s tank.” Dread swept through me. “Was I just a head? How long has it been? Did I . . . regrow?”
“The medicine I just gave you will help your memory.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “It’s only Friday. Three days since Mardi Gras.”
Mardi Gras. The sickening feel of my arm ripping off shuddered through my mind. “I was in pieces. Lots of pieces.”
“We recovered your head and most of your torso. The V12 prevented normal regeneration. But you did indeed regrow.” He paused. “With assistance.”
“Slug snot.” I nodded slowly. “I remember warm slug snot. And electricity.”
“Modifications to incorporate a variation of the African salve Allen Prejean told you about. Without it, your regrowth would have taken months as opposed to mere days.”
The door eased open. Marla padded in, tail wagging, and sat beside Dr. Nikas. The sight of her triggered a flood of memories. “Rosario! What happened to him? Did you get him?”
“He’s locked down and sedated. Post surgery from broken ribs.” He reached to scratch the dog’s ears. “Marla follows me around when she isn’t lying beside his bed.”
And Dr. Nikas didn’t mind one bit, if the mushy smile he gave Marla was any indication. A yawn snuck up on me, and I fought to keep my eyes open. “Rosario was going to whistle-blow on Saberton. Expose us right along with them.”
He squeezed my hand. “You stopped him, Angel. Well done.”
“Almost didn’t.” I grimaced. “The plan went tits up when Rosario took out Bear. What tipped him off?”
“Rosario noted your stop at the Bear’s Den and the subsequent loss of your GPS tracking signal. When Bear approached him at the festival, he smelled a trap but played along. After he crated Marla, he retrieved the Taser from his vehicle and hid it in his jacket. On the way to the VIP tent, h
e took Bear down when they passed behind the refrigerated trucks.”
“Rosario should have seized the chance to get away clean, but he came after me instead.” Anger boiled through me. “Because of Kristi. That manipulative—”
Dr. Nikas cut off my building tirade. “You need sleep.” He drew another syringe from his pocket. It didn’t have a needle and was filled with what looked like white gravy.
“Isn’t that for use with a zombie mod port?”
“You’ve had one on your wish list, haven’t you?” He smiled as he pulled the gauze under my collarbone down again, twisted the syringe and injected the drug. “This is a sedative, but your port’s primary use is for auto-dosing V13, your non-addictive, non-damaging V12 replacement.”
“That’s so cool.” My words were already slurring. “But more questions. Nick?”
Dr. Nikas looked pained. “Answers will be clearer after you rest. Sleep, Angel.”
Since I was almost there already, I did.
Chapter 35
“I can walk.” I made a shooing motion at the wheelchair Jacques had pushed into the room. “I don’t need that thing.”
Jacques regarded me placidly and didn’t budge away from the bed. Only a few minutes earlier, he’d nudged me awake to inform me that Dr. Nikas was about to attempt to wake Kang, and would I like to observe?
Hell yeah, I wanted to observe, and I was grateful to be woken up for the event, but I didn’t need to be carted around like an invalid. I’d slept for two straight days, out cold since I first woke and talked to Dr. Nikas on Friday. I felt perfectly fine. More than fine. I was chipper as fuck.
I was wrapped in gauze from ankle to wrist—though not as heavily as the day before—with a bright pink hospital gown over it all. After I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, I set my feet on the floor and carefully straightened. There, that wasn’t so bad. Legs were holding me up nicely. Emboldened, I took a careful step. And another. “See, I can walk just whoa.” My legs folded, and my butt dropped into the wheelchair that Jacques shoved smoothly under me. In fact, his timing was so perfect it was as if he’d been expecting me to need it.