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

She chuckled low in her throat. “Funny. Well, let’s see what you can do for us today.”

The door opened. A sick feeling began in my gut that increased to near panic levels as McKinney and a black man in white t-shirt and grey sweat pants walked in.

Clenching my fists by my sides, I watched in helpless rage as McKinney pulled his gun.

“No, not again,” I pleaded. I looked over at the doctor. “I can’t do this again!”

“Well, you’ll need to give it the old college try then.” The doctor’s voice chirped from the speaker. “Oh, wait. You didn’t go to college, did you?”

Fury burned through the sick feeling. I’d never killed anyone in my life, but I was more than ready for her to be the first. “Don’t shoot him,” I pleaded with McKinney. “You don’t have to do that. I swear I’ll try.” I turned to the new dude. “You do know that’s what he was going to do, right? He shot the last guy on the gamble that I could turn him into a zombie.”

The new guy’s expression didn’t shift, but I saw a muscle in his jaw leap. “Yeah,” I continued. “That’s right. You have to die for this to work.”

McKinney lifted his gun, pointed it at my head. “He knows how the soldier program works. Just do it.” Except he slurred the word soldier oddly.

“Wait…are you saying soldier with a Z?” I asked. I laughed despite the horror of the whole situation. “Oh my god, seriously? You’re calling it a ‘Zoldier program’ because it’s zombie soldiers? That has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!”

To my surprise, McKinney shrugged and chuckled, though the gun didn’t waver. “On that I have to agree with you, but unfortunately it wasn’t up to me.”

Jesus, this guy was a fucking psycho with his weird mood swings. Scared the ever living shit out of me. I shot a look toward the window. Black suit dude was scowling. I had a feeling “Zoldiers” had been his idea. Figured. A name that stupid could only come from the government. Besides, if they were with an Evil Corporation, their suits would be nicer.>Philip twitched then went still again, eyes remaining closed. I had a feeling he was awake and was trying to get his bearings without giving himself away. And he’d have probably pulled it off if I hadn’t been paying close attention—also known as “bored out of my mind.”

“Hey, Philip,” I said. “There’s no one else in here or the observation room, but I’m sure they’re still monitoring us.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me. I allowed myself a moment of self-congratulation that I was right about him being wide-awake. He sat up, eyes flicking around the room, taking in the blood that covered the floor and us.

“There’s some food for you,” I said with a nod toward the second tray. “Brains too, which you’ll want to eat, I’m sure.”

A flicker of disgust passed over his face, and I almost laughed. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “But your instincts will take over quickly enough.”

“He shot me,” he said in a low voice. Frowning, he pulled his shirt up, but even through the dried and congealed blood it was obvious he was unwounded. He ran his hand over his chest. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking miraculous…as long as you’re tanked up.”

“Tanked up?” He gave me a puzzled look.

“Well fed on brains,” I explained.

“Ah. Well that shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Uh, right. Well, here’s the deal. The more you exert yourself, the more brains you’ll need. So your days of weight training and ten mile runs are over.”

His brows drew together as he opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “You still don’t get it, do you?” I said. “You don’t need to do all that training anymore. The zombie part of you takes care of being strong and fast, and all it wants in return is brains.”

He considered that for a moment. “But if I had sufficient brains, I could train to improve, right?”

Frowning, I shrugged. “I guess. Honestly I have no idea. I’ve never been much of a fitness chick. And I’ve never had so many extra brains that I would’ve been able to test it out.” Not that I’d want to. I still had nightmares about high school phys ed class. I pulled the second tray over to him. “Here. You need to eat.”

He lifted the plastic fork, hesitated, then dug into the brains.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, an expression of bliss crossing his face.

I grinned. “Yeah. Crazy shit, huh?” I let him eat for a few minutes. “Why on earth would you volunteer for this?” I asked him when he was nearly finished with the contents of the tray. “Did you know what you were getting into?”

A faint smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Well, I didn’t know I would be shot and then…”

“Eaten?”

“Well…yes.” A bit more of a smile revealed itself. Maybe this guy had a personality after all. “We were told it was an experimental program with a high risk of death.”