White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

“Angel.”

I stopped and gave a bright smile across the hub to Dr. Nikas. “Did I forget something?”

He didn’t return the smile. “Could I see you in my office, please?” He gestured toward his door.

My expression felt as brittle as a frozen spider web. I followed him into his office, heart thudding unevenly. We had a tight-knit work crew at the lab: Reg, Jacques, Dr. Nikas, and me. Not much was said behind closed doors. The urge rose to stick my hand in my pocket and close my fist over the vials, and it took every speck of my self-control to resist it.

I blinked into brilliant sunshine streaming from a screen that covered the entire far wall of the office. Gulls wheeled over white sand and a turquoise sea, their cries mingling with the rustle of surf. A breeze carried the scent of salt and subtle flowers. An ambiance immersion system. Dr. Nikas tapped in a code on the system console and plunged us into silent darkness. Another tap, and the wall displayed a rainforest, the light subdued and filtered by the leafy canopy. Birdsong. The babble of a stream. Calm. Peaceful.

He stood with his back to me, as still as a column of granite, his gaze on the sanctuary of the forest. He didn’t go out much, and I suspected the ambiance systems in his office and living quarters helped keep him connected. And sane. Centuries ago, a brutal zombie-hating mob—tipped off by his wife after she discovered what he was—broke him in ways I didn’t even want to consider. He coped by withdrawing. But he’d never really recovered.

The seconds dragged by. I fidgeted and tried not to worry. Not easy with the borrowed V12 vials in my pocket. But this meeting wasn’t about that. He needed a little break, that was all. Dr. Nikas’s statue impersonation had nothing to do with me. Not one thing.

He finally heaved a deep sigh and dropped into the chair behind his desk. “Close the door, Angel.”

My pulse lurched. Déjà vu Allen. I pushed it closed. The latch clicked like the slamming of a cell door.

Dr. Nikas’s mouth was drawn down, and his ancient eyes held a deep sadness. “Have a seat.”

The vials felt like lumps of lead in my pocket as I sank into the chair. “Am I getting fired?” I tried for a joking laugh, but it came out as a strained croak.

He laced his fingers together on the desk before him. “I know about Philip’s doses.”

Blood drained from my head, and my vision swam for a second. Yes, let me faint. Let me pass out and escape this nightmare. My breath shuddered in my chest, but I remained stubbornly conscious. “Wh-what do you mean?” Still a chance to talk my way out. There’s always a way out. Just have to find it.

“You’ve been removing a portion of the dose and diluting the remainder with saline to cover it.” His words slashed at my defenses, all the sharper for the gentle tone. “It’s been going on for some time, hasn’t it.”

My hands shook. I clenched them in the fabric of my pants and stared at the whiteboard on the wall. I couldn’t look him in the eye. Physically impossible. I scrambled to think of a convincing lie. Excuse. Explanation. Anything.

Nothing came up. This was Dr. Nikas. I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing what a stinking lowlife I really was, but I also couldn’t bring myself to lie to him again. Tears stung my eyes, and I gave a jerky nod.

The single soft breath of his sigh practically shouted his disappointment. “And using it. Why, Angel?” His voice remained calm and even and nice, which made the whole thing that much worse.

Sweat stung my palms. Coherent thought felt like a distant memory. My throat clogged with fear and self-loathing but I forced the useless words out. “It h-helps me.”

A hint of a frown touched his brow. “Helps you? In what way?”

Faint hope flickered. “To read.” I swallowed, throat dry as a stone. “It, uh, helps with the dyslexia.”

Dr. Nikas leaned forward, gaze boring into me. “How does it affect the dyslexia?”

I gave a helpless shrug. “I dunno. One day I noticed that things made sense when I was using it. Like, I could read a paragraph one time and understand it, and it didn’t take me forever like it usually does.” I wiped my hands on my pants. “It’s not a cure, but I can keep up with my classes when I use it. When I don’t, I can’t.”

He sat back and regarded me. “You started using it before you noticed it helped the dyslexia.”

Shit. I’d walked myself into that. The hope sputtered out, and I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I’m freaking out with the whole college thing,” I said in a shaky voice. “I’m in over my head, and the mod helps me handle the stress. Lets me chill enough to keep at it and not quit.”

“And you like the way it makes you feel,” he said in the same tone he would’ve used to say And you like the way chocolate tastes.

Except we weren’t talking about chocolate. “Guess I’m kicked out, huh.” Better for me to get it out in the open, no matter how much it hurt. I didn’t want to hear him tell me to get out and never come back. I’d lose it for sure.

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Instead he stared off over my head, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed in his familiar deep-thought mode. “Why dyslexia?” he murmured then went to the whiteboard and wiped a section of equations clean with the sleeve of his lab coat. The red marker squeaked against the board as he began to fill the cleared space with his unique shorthand.

I pulled the vials out of my pocket. I could leave them on his desk and go while he was in his own world. No point in sticking around any longer. It wasn’t as if he was going to suddenly turn to me and say, “Oh, yes, of course you can still work here even though you totally lied to me and stole from me and betrayed my trust.” No, I’d come clean and get out. Leave now so I wouldn’t have to see him looking at me with disappointment, knowing what kind of loser I really was. I placed the vials on the edge of the desk—a gorgeous antique buffed to a shine so deep it reflected the vials like a dark mirror. My hand shook as I withdrew it. This was the right thing to do.

Dr. Nikas continued to scrawl on the board, muttering to himself in Greek.

I stood and backed to the door.