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

Great. If this isn’t out of the frying pan and into the fire, I don’t know what is.

I was pretty sure I could survive jumping out of a car going at—I glanced at the speedometer—ninety-three miles an hour. It would suck giant donkey balls, but with enough brains I’d recover. But I’m already in bad shape.

“Please don’t jump out of the car, Angel,” Ed said, obviously knowing what my reaction to seeing him would be. “I’m not going to kill you, I swear.”

I paused in my reach for the handle. “Why the hell should I believe you?” Or better yet, why shouldn’t I let the hunger have its way?

He slowed to make a turn, then sped up again, carefully checking his rearview mirror. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” I asked, distrust thick in my voice.

He licked his lips. “About…you, and Marcus…and Marianne.” He looked at me in the mirror. “I didn’t kill her, Angel. I swear I didn’t.”

“I know,” I said without thinking. “I mean…I had a hard time believing you did. It didn’t make sense for you to kill her.” I ran a hand over my torso. There were two wounds on my stomach where the bullets had exited, but I wasn’t bleeding anymore. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Especially since I was extremely aware that there was a nice healthy brain in the car with me. “Ed, you need to let me go. I’ve been shot.”

“I need to talk to you,” he repeated. “I’m taking you someplace safe.”

I tried to swallow, but it was getting difficult. “You don’t understand. It won’t be safe for you. I need to eat.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel briefly. “Ah. You mean brains.”

“Yeah. I have a stash. I just need to get to them—”

“I’ll get them for you,” he said. “But I need to get you someplace safe first.”

“Why should I trust you?” I demanded. The rasp of my voice was getting harsher and my tongue didn’t want to work properly. “You tried to kill me and Marcus not long ago.”

He took another turn, then another. At this point I had absolutely no idea where we were. “I know. But…please. I swear I’m not going to kill you. I have to talk to you.”

Fuck. At this point I probably didn’t have much choice. If I tried to escape now I’d be so mindless from hunger I’d end up attacking the first live person I came across. A shudder ran through me. No. Not going there.

A few minutes later he pulled into a long winding driveway that led to a small single-story brick house with no lights on. He drove around to the back, got out, then opened the car door for me. “Do you need help?”

I shook my head stiffly. “You need to stay back,” I managed, as the hunger tightened my stomach. “I need brains.”

“Tell me where.”

I climbed out of the back seat, gritting my teeth against the urge to leap on him. If I told him where the freezer was and this was all part of some wild ruse, he’d be able to destroy my entire stash. I’d definitely be fucked then.

You’re already fucked, Angel, I silently snarled. “Stor-This on Highway 1291. Unit five three four.” I quickly gave him the combinations to the gate and the unit.

He gave a terse nod. “That’s not far. Get inside. Keep it dark. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I headed to the house, but instead of getting back into the car, he threw a blue tarp over it and headed for the garage. “I’m switching cars,” he called back over his shoulder. “That asshole will be looking for that one. Now get the hell inside, please?” He pulled the wide garage doors open, and less than a minute later rumbled off in an old Chevy truck that looked almost as bad as my dad’s, if that was even possible.

I turned and shambled into the house, praying that I hadn’t made a colossal mistake.

Chapter 20

It wasn’t a big house. Not much bigger than my own, though certainly newer and in better condition. My senses were pretty dulled, but the occasional flash of lightning through the gaps in the heavy curtains showed me that the house was almost completely empty of furniture except for a ragged sofa and a folding chair in what appeared to be the living room.

The thunderstorm had finally made it here, and rain was coming down in driving gusts, but my stomach didn’t give a crap. Hunger gnawed at me, yowling at me to go, hunt, find someone with a brain for me to eat. I felt a tickle on my cheek and rubbed my hand across it only to come away with a three-inch long patch of flesh. Numb horror burrowed through me as I flung it away. My face. That was part of my face! I sat in the middle of the floor and wrapped my arms around my legs, suddenly glad that I was wearing long sleeves because it kept me from having to see skin sliding off my bones. How long would it take for Ed to get back? Would I be so far gone into the hunger that I’d attack him?

I jerked in surprise as the back door cracked open. I caught a quick glimpse of Ed as he tossed a plastic bag inside and quickly slammed the door closed again.

A guttural snarl came from my throat at the smell of him, but before I could lunge for the door, I caught sight—and scent—of the packages in the bag. Shuddering in relief, I tore open the box and into the brain-covered pizza, scraping the toppings off to shove into my mouth. I didn’t need the crust right now. That would only get in the way.

Sensation began to return, and the hunger settled into something manageable. I reached for the curry chicken next since I knew there wasn’t any chicken in it. A tingle in my cheek told me that my face was putting itself back together. I knew that Ed knew I was a zombie, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to see me rotting and falling apart.