Diesel brought Slick in and dumped him on the ground. “All yours,” he said to Morelli.
Morelli and Ranger were busy doing cleanup, and Diesel disappeared, presumably looking for Daryl. Lula and I walked back to the parking lot.
“Here’s another night of my life I won’t get back,” Lula said. “I’m going home. I’m going to put my jammies on and watch a movie. It’s not gonna have zombies in it either. I’m done with zombies.”
Going home sounded like a good idea. Slick was in custody and I’d get my recovery money. I had nothing to fear. Morelli would be busy for hours. And I had no justification for staying with Ranger. I was already feeling the adrenaline letdown. I wanted to crash into bed and sleep for days.
I drove back to my apartment on autopilot. I managed to get myself into the elevator and down the hall. I plugged my key into the lock, opened the door, and flipped the lights on. Home sweet home. I went straight to my bedroom and kicked my shoes off. I stripped my shirt off and heard someone giggle behind me.
Daryl Meadum, the kid I saw on Diggery’s road, was standing in my doorway, holding a gun.
“I see you in your underwear,” he said.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“I’m brilliant. Opening doors is a snap for me.”
“Shouldn’t you be relocating?”
“Yes, this is my last stop in Trenton.”
He was speaking so softly I had to strain to listen.
“I need a healthy culture to take to my new location. Frequently brain cells that are made available to me are inferior and produce an inferior product. Cadaver brain cells, for instance, are never my first choice. It’s difficult to build a good zombie army with inferior product.”
“Why do you want to build a zombie army?”
“It’s fun. It’s much more fun than video game zombies.”
“Don’t you miss doing your research?”
“No. It was boring. And people were always watching me, ordering me around. Eat your vegetables. Change your socks. Time for bed. Don’t do a lobotomy on the cat.”
I was feeling a little weirded out, standing in my bra, talking at gunpoint to the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies. Especially since he looked like he was fourteen years old. I was hoping I could distract him with conversation and create an opportunity to snatch the gun away. He didn’t look comfortable holding it. I suspected he had little to no shooting experience.
“It isn’t necessary to keep the gun pointed at me,” I said. “We’re friends, right?”
“Actually I have to kill you, so I can get your brain. I don’t usually do the killing, but this is the most efficient way to go about it. I brought my tools with me in my backpack. I have a power drill and a small power saw, so I have options. Probably I’ll go with the saw. It will allow me to remove the whole brain intact. I’m completely prepared. I have an insulated bag and an ice pack.”
“Gross!”
“Not at all. It should be an interesting experience. I like that you’ve removed your shirt. It feels very naughty to be killing you when you’re only wearing a bra. I don’t suppose you’d want to take it off?”
“I’ll trade you my bra for your gun.”
He thought about it for a moment. “That wouldn’t be a smart trade,” he said. “I can remove your bra after I kill you. In fact, I might remove all your clothes after I kill you.”
Eeek. Instant nausea. I swallowed back the revulsion and caught a glimpse of motion behind Daryl. It was so fleeting I thought I might have imagined it.
“So,” I said to Daryl, “where are you going next?”
“Austin,” he said. “I hear they have a good club scene. I think I can recruit some interesting zombies there.”
Diesel moved in behind Daryl. “Austin isn’t an option,” Diesel said.
Daryl spun around and pointed the gun at Diesel. “It is an option. I do what I want now. You have no control over me. If you don’t leave I’ll shoot you.”
“First off,” Diesel said, “I have total control over you, and your days of doing what you want are over. Second, if you shoot me it’s really going to piss me off, and you don’t want to piss me off.”