Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues (White Trash Zombie 2)

“Why are you going for a masters? Or are you going to go to law school now?” Was that the same as a masters? I didn’t know much about how all that worked. I sure as hell wasn’t ever going to go that route.

“My uncle’s idea, actually,” Marcus said. “He thinks I should eventually go into politics, and he thinks going federal could be a good start.”

“Oh. Okay.” I paused. “Is that what you want to do?”

I wasn’t surprised when he shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean, I can’t see staying a cop for the next twenty years.” He glanced my way. “And, as my uncle pointed out, I have certain skills and abilities that could come in pretty handy in federal law enforcement.”

Do you do everything your uncle says? I thought, but bit back the urge to say it out loud. I was silent for several minutes while I turned the events of the evening—hell, the entire past couple of days—over in my head. I also considered everything that Pietro had said, but also things that hadn’t been said.

“Why didn’t you tell your uncle about me thinking the guy from the lab was maybe a zombie?” I finally said. “I felt like an idiot in there.”

He sighed. “Angel, I’m sorry. I knew what his reaction would be. I was really hoping you wouldn’t bring it up.”

Well you could have fucking told me that, I thought but, once again, held it in.

We were almost back to his house when I turned to him and asked, “Why was it so important that I figure out the whole zombie thing on my own?”

“Excuse me?”

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. “Okay, so you made me a zombie, and then left the brain smoothies for me at the ER, and got me a job, and then left a note telling me to give in to my cravings.”

His forehead puckered into a frown. “Right.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me, ‘Hey, this is what happened, and you’re a zombie now, and this is what you need to do’?” I knew what the answer was, but I wanted to hear him admit it.

A pained look flashed across his face as he pulled into his driveway. “Angel…you were a mess. In so many ways. Making you a zombie wasn’t just about saving your life. It was about…about getting you to get control of your life again.” He looked over at me. “And it worked. Right?”

“Oh, I don’t deny that. But I want to make sure you understand what you did. Yes, you had the best of intentions, and yes, it all turned out well and yes, you saved my life in a number of ways. But you basically put me in a rehab program against my will.” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “Hang on. I’m not saying what you did was wrong, and I’m not mad about that. I swear, I’m not.”>Or maybe I was reading more into it. Maybe Marcus was more worried about Ed. I knew I was stressed and on edge, so it was more than possible that I was being overly sensitive.

“I couldn’t smell his brains,” I said. “I was hungry, and he had a significant skull fracture.”

Pietro’s mouth curved into a slight frown. “And so you automatically assume he was a zombie? I know the procedures for this sort of thing…didn’t the paramedics run an EKG strip on him?”

“Well, yes but—”

“With only a skull fracture he would still have heartbeat, though very slow,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking the trace of patronizing sneer in his voice.

I shot a look at Marcus, but he remained silent, a pained look on his face. He met my eyes and gave a slight shrug that was clearly meant to convey “I told you so.”

Anger and betrayal swept through me, and I had to bite the side of my tongue hard to hold back the urge to either cry or shout a bunch of curse words. “Right. Then I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I managed.

Pietro said nothing, but the look in his eyes echoed my sentiment. Marcus cleared his throat. “Angel, you’re one of us now. That’s why you’re here. We’re mostly worried about Ed and whoever else he might be working with.”

I took a deep breath to get my ragged emotions under control. “What about the other zombies in the area? Have you warned them about Ed?”

Pietro nodded. “The ones who are in our circle know.”

“Your circle?” I echoed, frowning. “What does that mean? Are there others?”

Marcus reached and patted my leg. “He means we’ve contacted everyone we know for certain are zombies.” He gave me a reassuring smile, but an uneasy knot remained in my gut.

But I also knew that I’d be wasting my time and breath if I started asking more questions. “Gotcha,” I said instead and did my best to smile.

“Very well,” Pietro said, standing. “Then we should rejoin the party.” He looked my way as I scrambled to my feet. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”

I shook my head. He didn’t really want to discuss shit with me.

“Very good.” He beckoned to the door, and I made my escape.