White Trash Zombie Gone Wild (White Trash Zombie 5)

The world was still out there, with a familiar face reporting the details: Brennan Masters, the TV reporter I’d loaned a towel to at the Grayson Seeger murder scene so he could clean mud off his shoes. And now he had a follow-up report on that same murder. I clicked on the video from the evening before Mardi Gras and watched Masters announce the then-breaking news. Coy Bates had turned himself in for the murder of Grayson Seeger, and authorities had issued a warrant for the arrest of Judd Siler, whose whereabouts were currently unknown.

To my relief, a quick check through later videos turned up no mention of Randy. This murder was lurid enough that the news would have definitely reported if he’d been arrested on related charges. He’d come out of the crazy mess with a good scare and nothing more serious, which probably wasn’t perfect justice but worked well enough for me. Randy had simply been trying to help a friend. Stupidly.

My body informed me that I damn well needed to take advantage of the very nap-worthy couch, and I didn’t argue. After a two-hour test drive that earned the couch high marks, I went back online and proceeded to amuse myself with silly pictures of cats.

I was awwwwing over a video of a kitten being tickled when my phone beeped with a text message.

From Nick.

Allen said you’ll be off work for a week. Derrel and I are covering half your shifts. You owe me. I have your masks. Hope you’re feeling better.

I read it three more times, and my smile grew bigger and bigger and bigger. The message was matter-of-fact, with no frills and a tiny sprinkle of Nick the Prick, but that wasn’t important. He’d taken a step to communicate directly, which meant he hadn’t backed completely away.

“Baby?” My dad stood in the doorway, face twisting with the effort to keep from crying.

“Daddy!” A flood of sheer happiness rushed through me at the sight of him. I set the laptop aside and pushed to my feet, and then he was running to catch me in a fierce hug before I could fall over.

“Oh god, Angelkins.” His voice shook, but his arms were firm and strong as he held me close. “You’re back. I got you back.”

I clung to him as we both sobbed on each other, then eventually he eased me to sit as gently as if I was made of glass. When he settled beside me, I snuggled against his side and released a long contented breath. He curved his arm around me to hold me close, and we sat like that in rich quiet, dad and daughter.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said, breaking the silence at last, but when I looked up at his face I saw expectation instead of question. “You already know, don’t you.”

“Angelkins, I been knowing for a while somethin’ was up, but I never could figger out what the hell kinda drug you could be taking.” His voice caught. “Oh, baby. I was trying so hard not to fuck it all up like I done way back before you helped me get sober. Thought I’d screwed the pooch the night of the movie when I got in your face ’bout it.”

I gave him a watery smile. “Well, you were right.” I leaned into him again, drew warmth as I told him what happened in New York—not the super gory details, but enough to explain about the mods and why Dr. Nikas had to make them. And why I ended up having to use them.

A fire came into his eyes, and he shot to his feet with a speed I didn’t think he possessed. “Now you just wait a goddamn minute!” he snapped, glaring fiercely. “Those zombie sons of bitches got you hooked and let you run wild with this shit? Is that what got you into this mess where you done fell apart? Ari sure kept that part real quiet. Who the fuck do they think they are? You tell me who the goddamn chief of this circus is so I can give the prick a piece of my mind. It’s goddamn bullshit! They ain’t gonna treat a Crawford like—”

“Dad!” I barely got the word out between the tears and laughter. “It’s okay, I promise.” An image swam into my head of my dad chewing out Pierce, and I dissolved into giggles again. “Oh my god,” I gasped. “You didn’t let me finish.”

He beetled his brows at me, harrumphed, then plopped back onto the couch. ?

??Fine. You finish. But I’m tellin’ you, I’m ready to kick some zombie butt.”

That brought on another round of laughter, earning me an exasperated toss of his hands in the air. I wiped my eyes and threw my arms around him. “You don’t have to go kick any zombie butt,” I said. “Except maybe mine.” With that, I launched into the rest of it, about my work at the lab, the V12 and the skimming, and getting caught. Told him how Dr. Nikas helped me in every possible way, then I did my best to explain why I took the megadose on Mardi Gras day.

He gave a slow nod as he took it all in. “I seen a lot of weird shit these past few days, and I asked a lot of questions. Like, how the hell you ended up in pieces, and why you couldn’t just chomp on a brain and get better.” A shudder went through him. “These lab people are pretty tight-lipped and never would give me a straight answer, but I knew it had to be connected somehow. Guess I ain’t as dumb as I look.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank god for that!”

“You little shit.” He laughed and gave me a squeeze. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Dad. I’m so sorry I got into this mess.”

In reply, he dug an object from his pocket and dropped it into my hand.

My throat tightened as I looked down at the heavy coin. “One year sober.”

“Got it last night.” He wiped away tears without shame. “I don’t ever wanna go back to what I was before, to what we were before.”

“We won’t,” I said with conviction. “You won’t, and I won’t. We won’t let that happen.”

“You’re goddamn right.” He paused, smiled. “Cuz we’re Crawfords.”

“Dad, the Crawford family tree is full of drunks, criminals, and politicians.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess we got no choice but to take up a life of crime.”