White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

My focus sharpened on a double-asterisk filename. **Zombie_heal_2. I frowned. Heal? The zombies in High School Zombie Apocalypse!! were typical mindless rotters. When they got blown to bits or chopped up they stayed that way—no healing involved at any point. An uneasy chill walked down my spine even though plenty of reasonable explanations came to mind. Maybe the zombies would get to be badass and heal up in the sequel, College Zombie Apocalypse!! Or, more likely, the filename had zilch to do with zombies healing. It probably stood for “zombie_healthy” and was a video of zombies who weren’t all rotted yet.

Whatever the reason, it hit too close to home, especially since I was already on high alert for anything zombie-like and suspicious. I didn’t care if the paper might be evidence. Hell, I didn’t care if it could lead to the cure for the common cold. It damn sure wasn’t staying here for anyone else to find and speculate about.

Mr. Seeger went into the cooler, and the paper went into my bra.

• • •

As soon as I left the morgue, I headed straight to Randy’s place. Casual visit, nothing more. Dropping in to say Hi, that sort of thing. After all, I knew there was no way Randy could’ve been involved in the murder. Knew it. He could be a Grade-A Prime Loser, but murder? Nuh uh. I was sure.

Almost sure. Only a teensy bit of doubt lingered, but it was like a grain of sand in my eye. I’d swing by and see how he was doing, what he was up to. Laundering bloody clothes. Burying a machete. Innocent shit like that.

Randy lived at the very end of a long-as-hell rural road, on several acres of land that held a rusty corrugated metal garage and a halfway decent trailer. The garage was w

here he made his living as a mechanic and—when he needed some extra cash—it served as the occasional chop-shop. After I parked, I made my way around puddles to the trailer steps where I could hear a TV blaring the morning news from within. Worry twisted in my chest. Randy never watched the news.

I knocked, hard enough to be heard over the TV. The sound went off, and a few seconds later Randy yanked the door open, looking surprised, relieved, and disappointed to see me. He was fully dressed, with a half-smoked cigarette in one hand. His eyes flicked to the van and then farther down the driveway. Checking to see if I’d brought anyone with me?

“Dude!” I put on my excited-and-horrified act. “Did you see the news about the serial killer?”

“Uh.” He glanced at his TV then gave me a nod. “Yeah, I was listening to it.”

He made no move to invite me in, but that was a minor obstacle for a pushy bitch. “The body was found not far from here,” I said and slid past him before he could stop me. “Figured I’d make sure you were okay.”

Randy made a face as if I’d just pissed in his Cheerios but went ahead and closed the door. He picked up a plastic cup and knocked ash into it. “I’m good. Crazy shit, huh?”

“Totally crazy!” I flopped onto the sofa and made myself at home. “Did you hit Pillar’s Bar after the Fest?”

He shrugged. “For maybe an hour.”

Was he acting guilty? Hungover? Hell, I couldn’t tell a damn thing. “Oh man, you might’ve knocked back a beer with the sicko who chopped off that guy’s head and never known it!”

Randy gave me a sharp look. “The cops think the guy was at Pillar’s before he—?”

“Before he murdered the guy?” I spread my hands. “I don’t think they’ve made any public statements about it.” I wasn’t lying. It was Randy’s fault if he took that to mean there were private statements floating around.

He sucked on the cigarette and sat on the arm of the sofa. “The news said the cops didn’t have any leads.”

I scoffed. “You believe that? The dumbass left plenty of evidence at the scene. It won’t take long.”

Surprise flashed across Randy’s face, as if he suddenly remembered what I did for a living. “You were there?”

“Sure. I was on call. Picked up the body. Dude, that shit was gruesome. Y’know, it ain’t like the movies where it’s one clean slice.” I warmed to my topic as Randy paled. “Nah, it must’ve taken a dozen hacks with a dull ass machete to get this poor dude’s head off.” Hunger shimmered through me. The brain would’ve been nice and warm and fresh and—

Saliva flooded my mouth, and I quickly swallowed before I started drooling. The smell of Randy’s brain filled the room, overpowering the scent of bacon grease and cigarettes.

“Jesus, Angel. I don’t need the gory details.” Randy crushed out the cigarette then shook a fresh one from a pack and lit it. In the next instant he jerked to his feet, eyes wide in rising horror. “Is that body out in the van?”

Randy’s reactions would’ve been awfully funny if the stakes weren’t so high. “Nah, I already took it to the morgue. What was left of him, at least.” I plastered on a grin. “Why’d you leave Pillar’s so early? I thought you and the guys were gonna stay ’til closing.”

His expression turned sour. “Judd thought we were about to get ambushed during the zombie hunt, spun around and accidentally whacked me in the head with the butt of his paintball rifle.” He pulled his cap off to show me a small butterfly bandage atop a decent-sized goose egg. “I left Pillar’s ’cause I couldn’t deal with the shitty band pounding my skull.”

Frowning, I peered at the lump. That wasn’t faked. And such a fine brain under it. I quickly stepped back. “You feeling okay? You don’t want to mess with head injuries.”

“Hell, I got knocked a lot worse that time Chester Albertson dumped me off the back of his four-wheeler.” His shoulders twitched in a shrug. “The EMT at the Fest checked me out and told me I just needed to take it easy.”

Well, that was good. Hard to be up for cold-blooded murder with a splitting headache. If it was true. What if Seeger had walloped Randy in self-defense? I might have to track down the EMT and verify.

Randy’s phone shrilled on the end table, startling us both. He grabbed it and stared at the caller ID as if the phone was poisonous, then glanced at me, hesitating.