White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

Chapter 1

Blood and fat greased the thick needle as I fought to work it through the slab of flesh. I’d closed up hundreds of bodies after autopsies, and could usually sew up the Y-incision in nothing flat. But of course the day I had plans for lunch, the corpse had a beer gut the size of a keg.

“Omentum,” I said through gritted teeth, pulling the string through. “That’s what all the lard in this dude’s gut is called.”

Derrel Cusimano looked up from his clipboard, wide mouth curving into a smile. “Look at you with all your college biology smarts.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Granger’s omentum has too much momentum,” I grumbled, earning me a laugh. A linebacker for LSU turned death investigator, Derrel had been my partner for most of my time with the Coroner’s Office. We weren’t permanent partners anymore, thanks to my ever-changing work schedule, but we still made one hell of a pair—short, skinny, white girl with bleached blonde hair, and a hugely muscled, bald, black guy who was easily the most compassionate person I’d ever met.

The faint scent of Mr. Granger’s brain teased me from the bag of organs between his knees. A rush of saliva filled my mouth, and my hands trembled. The smell of baking bread was as appetizing as dog shit compared to the delicious aroma of a fresh human brain. And hoo boy, I needed that brain. Now. “I thought you were leaving for lunch ten minutes ago.”

“Leaving for the day,” Derrel corrected as he scribbled notes. “Checking my last report now. I’m off ’til Tuesday.”

The needle slipped against the slick flesh, drove into my gloved middle finger and ripped through the side. I clamped down on a yelp of pain and yanked it free, then shot a look at Derrel. To my undying relief, he was focused on his report and hadn’t noticed a thing. Needle sticks were bad news, and no way did I want to deal with the paperwork and tests and other crap.

Especially since I had nothing to worry about. Not with my zombie parasite on internal cleanup duty. But the injury twisted my brain-hunger a notch tighter. Shit. I couldn’t forage for that particular sustenance until Derrel left. At the rate he was going, he’d still be here tomorrow.

The blood from my finger and the body mingled as I continued to wr

estle with needle and string. “You’re almost done though, right?”

Derrel gave me a knowing look over the clipboard. “You trying to get rid of me?”

I batted my eyelashes. “Would I do that?” My stomach made an obnoxious gurgle.

Derrel chuckled. “Sounds like someone skipped breakfast. I can finish sewing him up if you want to head out for lunch.”

“No!” I cleared my throat, annoyed at how nervous I sounded. “I mean, no. I’m on call tonight, so I’m taking a long lunch then cutting out of here early. Don’t let me hold you up from your days off.” I struggled to get the damn needle through for the next stitch. “I have this under control.”

Derrel hung the clipboard on its hook and tugged on gloves. “I can see that.”

Cripes. He was never going to leave. The scent of his warm, live brain wafted over me as he stepped close. Didn’t he know I was starving? I focused on the needle.

Derrel held the dead guy’s impressive belly together so I could stitch. “You going tonight?”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. For the past month, zombies and movies had dominated conversations all over St. Edwards Parish, even crowding out the juicy scandal involving the Chief of Police and a box of ferrets back on Valentine’s Day. The movie High School Zombie Apocalypse!! had been filmed here in Tucker Point, and its nationwide release was this very weekend. A few hundred locals had made it into the movie in bit parts or as extras, and I couldn’t think of a single person who didn’t have plans to go see it, if only to watch the scene where the mayor—played by the actual mayor of Tucker Point—ended up covered in blood and zombie splatter.

And tonight Tucker Point was home to a big red carpet premiere, complete with celebrities and all sorts of other cool stuff.

“Yep, I’m going with Marcus.” Three more stitches and I’d be done. Then I could get away from Derrel and his brain before I—

“You two back together?”

In my head, I let out a primal scream of frustration at his refusal to leave. Outwardly, I faked a casual shrug. “Nah, but we’re still friends. It’s nice having someone to talk to. We’re both going through a lot of changes right now, with me starting college and him taking over his Uncle Pietro’s business.” I didn’t mention that business also involved Marcus becoming the public head of our zombie Tribe.

“Uh huh,” Derrel said with a dubious twist of his mouth. “As long as it stays ‘nice’ and he doesn’t try and run your life again because he thinks he knows what’s best for you.”

I smiled as I made the last stitch. “You have the best brain ever.”

Derrel let out a booming laugh. “Angel Crawford, I think that’s the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Crap. So much for think before you speak. My stomach gave an almighty gurgle loud enough to wake the dead. I clamped a forearm over my belly. “Oh, jeez.”

He clapped me on the back then steadied me as I staggered. “Let’s get Mr. Granger into the cooler so you can go feed yourself.”

Sigh. The guy was a seriously nice pain in my ass. He was thinking burgers. I was thinking brains. Didn’t help one bit that all the effort to get the body bagged, on the gurney, and rolled into the cooler fired Derrel up like a brain-scented plug-in air freshener.

I breathed easier once we were out of the close confines of the cooler. “I can handle it from here,” I told him. “Go have fun.” I disposed of my gloves and protective gear, then hurried to wash my hands before Derrel could spy the blood on my finger. My parasite had done its job and stopped the bleeding, but I needed brains now for it to finish the healing.

Derrel tossed his gloves into the medical waste can. “I’ll be hiding out at home.” With that he smushed me against his massive chest in a hug—and immersed me in brain scent.