White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

Marcus pulled a baggie of what looked like ugly grey banana chips out of the console and passed it to me. “Now try these.”

I replaced the top on the bottle and stuck it in the drink holder, then gave the contents of the baggie a dubious sniff. I liked what I smelled, but they sure looked nasty.

“What are these?” I asked, taking a cautious nibble.

“Brain chips,” he said. “I got a dehydrator and thought I’d give it a try. Slice thin and let ’em dry.” He shrugged. “Only about half of the brainpower they’d have if they were fresh or frozen, but no cooler needed and they satisfy that crunch craving.”

I took a bigger bite. “I like.”

Marcus smiled, obviously pleased. “Keep those. I have more at home.”

“Cool!” I ate another brain chip and then stuffed the bag down into my purse. “Man, I feel sorry for those fake zombies who have to wear that makeup all day. Wonder how much it costs to pay all those people and stuff?”

“Dunno,” Marcus replied, “but I heard that these extras are making a hundred to a hundred and fifty bucks a day, and that they gave first hiring priority to people who were laid off after Saberton Corp bought the farm machinery factory last fall.”

“Oh, wow,” I said. “That’s pretty cool of them.” The bigwigs at Saberton had sworn up, down, and sideways that the layoffs were temporary, and that everyone would be rehired as soon as the company nailed down a major defense contract. But the contract had yet to come through, and several hundred people were either still out of a job or making do with whatever work they could scrounge.

Marcus glanced my way. “Well, Uncle Pietro said that State Senator Jane Pennington really pushed for that.”

“Even cooler.” Then I grinned. “Is it wrong that I want to go hungry for a bit and then sneak in as an extra?”

“Probably, but who cares?” he replied with a laugh.

He turned down the street that ran alongside the high school, not far from where I’d picked up the body, then pulled into the deserted back lot of the football stadium. I used to think my high school took their football seriously, but Tucker Point High supporters took it to a whole new level of absurd. After a ridiculously successful, high-profile fund-raising campaign a few years back, the alumni had built a sleek monstrosity that had to be the biggest, glitziest high school stadium in the southeast.

“We’re here,” he announced as he parked close to the entrance and shut off the engine.

The look I gave him was plenty dubious. “Um. Why are we here?”

He grabbed a thick blanket from behind the seat. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said. And with no further hint, he climbed out and headed toward the darkened entrance.

Okkaaaay. I hurried to follow. Behind me, the truck horn beeped as Marcus hit the remote lock.

“Dude, this is kinda creepy,” I said with a laugh.

He reached back and took my hand. “In a few minutes you won’t be thinking about creepy.”

“Well that can be taken a bunch of different ways,” I replied.

Marcus broke into a run as the light rain abruptly increased in intensity, then pulled me close as soon as we were under shelter. “So can you,” he murmured.

A thrill shot through me. Marcus and I had our ups and downs, but we had some serious chemistry in the bedroom. “Oh wow,” I said with an unsteady grin.

His mouth nuzzled my neck. “You’re in trouble now. I’m primed.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to eat the chips!” I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t help but laugh. Back at his house he had a brain-pudding that he’d nicknamed “foreplay.” Never a good idea to risk falling apart during zombie-sex. Ew.

Marcus chuckled as he took my hand again and headed down a passageway. “I’m no fool.”

I peered around as we walked. “Are we allowed to be here?”

“Uh, sure,” he said in a very unconvincing tone of voice. “Didn’t have to climb any fences did we?”

We wound our way through a dim passageway beneath the seating, then up a set of concrete stairs and onto a covered walkway that ran around the perimeter of the stadium. “This sure is, um, romantic,” I said, casting him a dubious look.

“Didn’t know you were looking for romance,” he said, still grinning as we stepped out onto the bleachers. “Come on,” he urged as he began to climb.

“You’re so weird,” I said, but I went with him.