White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

“Shut up, Coy,” Randy snapped then glared at me. “Best you forget whatever notions you got in your head.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” I said with a lift of my chin. “And, in case y’all get any stupid ideas, everything I know is in the hands of people who will make you beg to die if anything happens to me.” With confidence buoyed by the gun, brains, and Brian’s efficiency, I nailed them with a glare. “What the hell, dudes? Y’all are better than this!”

Panic widened Coy’s eyes. “What’s she talking about, Randy?” Stress made his voice shrill. “Did you tell her?”

Randy rounded on Coy. “Would you shut up? I’ll handle this!”

“No one had to tell me anything,” I said, planting my hands on my hips. It helped my badass act that I was a touch higher than the guys thanks to being on the steps. “I worked the crime scene, remember?” I scowled. “First of all, you dumbasses left the damn zombie hunter survival kit duffel there. Second, Judd left his lighter and one of his stupid cigarettes behind.” I wasn’t about to say that I took the cigarette. They needed to stay worried. Coy was my weak link here, so I turned a pleading look on him. “What happened?”

“Aw shit.” Coy grabbed his head with both hands as panic vibrated through him. His breath came in short pants, and his eyes darted around as if seeking escape from a trap. “I gotta get out of here.”

“No!” I shouted. “Goddammit, Coy, you need to listen to me first.”

Tight lipped, Randy stalked up to the side of the trailer. “Say what you gotta say, Angel.” He crouched and pulled a six-foot length of heavy chain from beneath it. I hoped it was meant to weigh down a head and bloody clothing and not to shut me up.

“I’m saying that you idiots need to turn yourselves in.” I scorched them both with a glare. “Maybe that way you’ll be able to come out of this without spending the rest of your lives in prison.”

“No. Oh god, no.” Distress warped Coy’s face as his nightmare took a turn for the worse. “W-we gotta stick to the plan.” His throat bobbed as he gulped. “Stick to the plan.”

Randy slung the chain toward Coy to land in a pile at his feet. “Throw that in the car,” he ordered. Coy stooped and struggled to pick it up as a heap. Randy scowled back at me. “We got other options here that don’t mean no one going to prison.”

I stared at him. He was an idiot. “What other options? Run like hell? Give up everything? Leave behind your entire life and live in hiding forever?”

Randy narrowed his eyes. “You going to the cops?”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “I won’t have to! They’re going to come to you soon enough.” Possibly a lie, but Randy and Coy didn’t need to know that.

Randy shifted from foot to foot. “I didn’t do anything, and we’re getting rid of the other shit. Just chill.”

Yeah, he was the polar opposite of chilled at the moment. I looked at him sadly. “If you didn’t do anything, then why are you setting yourself up to be charged as a principal—or at the very least an accessory. You’re better than this.” I shifted my focus to Coy. “And, dude, you’re no cold-blooded murderer. C’mon, there’s a way out of this, but you both need to let go of this fantasy that the cops won’t come knocking at your door. I mean, goddamn, Coy, there’s evidence all over your place.”

Coy dropped the chain with a jarring clatter. “Evidence? What? How do you know?”

“A little birdie told me,” I snapped. “You want to charge me with trespassing? Sure, let’s call the cops right now and tell them that I broke into your shop and found a severed head.”

“Dammit, Angel!” he said, voice cracking. “Whaddya have to go poking around for? Oh god.”

“Don’t you get it? You have to go to the cops,” I told Coy, trying hard to sound nice and calm. “If you don’t, and they come to you first, then you’re screwed. And you too, Randy.”

“No,” Coy said. “No, Randy wasn’t there.” He sagged to sit on a low pile of tires, while I did my best to hide the relieved shaking of my knees.

He wasn’t there. Randy’s not a murderer. “Tell me what happened,” I said when I had control of my voice again.

“This guy flagged us down out on Highway 180,” Coy said. “Judd pulled over. So we could help, y’know?”

“Yeah, ’cause Judd’s a soft-hearted kind of dude,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Go on.”

“The guy went nuts, and, uh, dragged Judd out.” Coy’s words came out in a thin monotone. “He was trying to kill Judd. The bat was there with the kit in the back of the truck. I couldn’t think what else I could do. Whack him. I, um, I whacked him right on the head. Didn’t mean to kill him.”

Wow. This was one disjointed story. “Who opened Judd’s door?”

“The guy.” Coy’s gaze darted around like a horsefly on steroids. “Judd didn’t do anything. The guy started it.”

I regarded Coy with naked disbelief. “A random out-of-towner flagged you down and, for no reason, dragged Judd out of the truck and tried to kill him? Seriously?”

“That’s what happened. I swear.” Coy pulled a cigarette out of a pack, but his hands shook so badly he couldn’t hold the lighter in place long enough to get it lit. After a few seconds he gave up and threw the lighter as hard as he could, then dropped the cigarette and jammed his heel onto it.

“Sure it is.” I rolled my eyes. “How many times did you practice that story?”