White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

Randy stepped between Coy and me. “Why’re you fucking with him? He’s been through enough.”

“He’s been through—? What about the dead dude?” I jabbed a finger at Randy. “You’re not helping anyone by buying this line of bullshit.”

Scowling, Randy turned and moved a few feet away then stopped, as if waiting to hear how this all played out.

I swung back to Coy. “And you need to come clean, but for god’s sake, get your story straight first. The cops will rip that pathetic lie to pieces—after they stop laughing their asses off. Your story has holes big enough to drive a semi through.”

Coy stared at me, aghast, then his entire body drooped in defeat. He slid a look toward Randy’s back. “Judd said we had to tell it like that,” he mumbled then stared at the ground between his feet.

Okay, now we were making progress. “I’m not surprised. Why don’t you tell me what really happened.”

“It was after Pillar’s,” Coy said, voice dull. “Out on 180.”

I lowered myself to sit again and gave him a go ahead nod.

“Judd was driving. There was this zombie walking on the shoulder.” He grimaced and rubbed his eyes. “I mean, the guy was wearing zombie makeup and all that stuff. He tried to flag us down for a ride. That much was true.” His eyes went hollow. “We were drunk. And you know how Judd is when he’s plastered.”

Mean. And ready to pick a fight with anyone. “Yep, I know,” I replied with as little expression as possible.

“We passed him, then Judd swung around and we went back. He pulled onto the shoulder.” A shudder passed through Coy. “Said we were gonna hunt some zombie ass.”

That sounded like Judd. And Coy, the follower, went along with it. “But y’all weren’t planning on killing the guy, right?”

He jerked his head up in shock. “God, no!” But then he groaned. “It was just gonna be like a prank, y’know. Mess with the guy.”

“A prank,” I echoed.

“I was drunk.” Shame and grief passed over his face. “The zombie hunter kit was in the back seat.” His throat worked. “I swear we were only gonna scare him.”

A pretty clear picture was forming. “And the dude didn’t want to be fucked with,” I said. Car broken

down, starting to rain, and then two drunk dumbass rednecks decide to screw with him instead of being decent human beings and giving him a ride.

“Some shit got said. It’s hazy.” Coy stared down at his hands. “It all happened so fast. He tried to back off, but Judd grabbed him. I got between them to break it up, and the guy shoved me. We ended up in a tussle on the ground.”

“And Judd hit him with the bat,” I murmured. I knew the sound a bat made when it hit a human skull. Last year I’d caved a man’s head in with one then feasted on his brain. But that had been self-defense. Made all the difference in the world.

Coy looked as if he could still hear that sound, too. “Yeah.” He gulped. “I had the machete but dropped it when we started fighting. Judd had the bat and—” He couldn’t finish.

Randy spun and took a lurching step toward us. “Wait a goddam minute, Coy. You and Judd both told me you had the bat.”

Coy pushed to his feet. “I know. But I didn’t. I swear!”

“Coy.” I snapped his name out. “You said you were rolling on the ground with him?” At his shaky nod I glanced at Randy. “Coy was wearing his blue plaid flannel shirt. It’s in a garbage bag in his washing machine, covered in mud. And Judd’s isn’t all dirty. So unless they switched clothes, I know who was rolling around in the mud.” I paused to let that sink in. “Hard to hit someone with a bat when you’re wrestling with them.”

Coy gave a frantic nod. “Yeah. That’s right. You remember, Randy? That’s the shirt I was wearing! And it was Judd who decided we needed to chop the head off to make it look like the serial killer did it.” He gripped his head. “Judd said . . . he said you wouldn’t help us if you knew he did it.”

“Judd knew Randy would stick his neck out for you, not him,” I said. “Y’all played him like a patsy.”

“You lied to me.” Randy took a step toward Coy then stopped short, dismay in his eyes. A whisper of dread tugged at my chest as he dropped his gaze to the phone in his hand. He’d been turned away the whole time he was listening to us.

“Randy?” I said. “What were you just doing?”

He shoved his phone into his pocket, like a five-year-old hiding a cookie behind his back after being caught red-handed.

I gave him a withering look as I came down off the steps. “’Cause if you texted Judd, he’s going to be ready to throw both your asses under the bus.” They were all a bunch of goddamn idiots, every single one of them. I glared at Coy. “What do y’all know about the guy you murdered?”

He flinched at the m-word. “Dunno anything. I didn’t look at his wallet. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there.”