White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

I resisted the urge to sigh. So much for getting answers from Kang, at least any time soon. “Will you please let me know once you have any news?”

“I will,” Pietro said, “but perhaps you’d like to get some direct answers? Maybe even see the heads yourself?”

I sucked in an excited breath. “Seriously?”

“Completely,” he replied, and I thought I heard a smile in his voice at my delight. “We did lose one, but the others are relatively stable.”

“I would love to see the heads!” Then I bit my lip. “Wait. Which one did you lose? Please don’t say it was Kang’s.”

“No. Kang is stable. It was Peter Pleschia.”

I racked my memory for which one that was. Oh yeah, the pizza guy. “Oh, whew. Er, I mean, not great for him, but…well, you know.” I made a face at my own idiocy. “Anyway. So, when can I go and see them?”

Pietro chuckled. “It’s all right. I know what you meant. Do you work today?”

A thrill of anticipation ran through me. “No. I’m off today, work tomorrow, then off again on Saturday, but I have the GED that morning.”

“I’ll have Brian pick you up at noon today at your place,” he said. “Will that work for you?”

Holy crap. Brian Archer, Pietro’s hard as nails head of security. “Sure!” I said quickly.

“You’ll be meeting with Dr. Ariston Nikas. He heads up all of my research and development operations. He’ll be able to answer your questions much more thoroughly than I can.”

Oh my god. I was going to get to visit a research lab? A zombie research lab?

“That is so cool,” I breathed. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome, Angel,” he replied warmly. “By the way, apart from your ordeal last night, I heard you were in a pretty serious firefight the night before. Are you doing all right? Do you need anything?”

“Um, no, I’m cool,” I said, weirdly touched at the concern. “Your people gave me some stuff on the scene. And I, uh…” I gulped. “Well, I ate a bad guy.” I killed someone. And ate his brain. Sure, he’d been shooting at me, but…A shiver ran through me. It shouldn’t have been so easy for me to do it. I’d killed McKinney when I was escaping from Charish’s damn lab, but that was different. McKinney was a Grade-A bastard asshole and general all-around Bad Person who’d done terrible things to me and to people I cared about. I’d felt zero guilt when I smashed his head and feasted on the contents.

But the guy the other night…Just because he was working for the other side didn’t necessarily mean he was dipped in sin. Hell, I knew damn well that Pietro’s hands weren’t clean.

My shoulders hunched forward, and my chest tightened as guilt swept in. What the hell kind of monster was I?

Maybe Pietro sensed my attack of sudden remorse; when he replied his tone was surprisingly mild. “You made a decision in the heat of the moment. I’ve heard the reports. If you hadn’t taken him out and utilized the resources he had to offer, Heather would likely be dead now, and those men would have certainly captured you.”

“Right,” I said softly. He was right. I knew that logically, but I also knew I’d probably never shake that sliver of guilt. And that was probably a good thing. If I didn’t feel some guilt and shame, then I really would be a monster. “It’s kinda hard to get used to. Though I guess you know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “But killing him was a matter of survival for you. And as far as eating him goes, you’d have eaten his brain without hesitation had his body been in the morgue, yes? It’s simply a different setting.”

“Yeah,” I said, subdued. “I’m having a little trouble adjusting to the whole being-a-killer thing.”

He exhaled. “Maybe we can discuss this more later, when things settle down a bit,” he replied, tone gentle. “My people will be occupied for a few days with the aftermath of your encounters with Saberton, but after that we should talk.”

I hesitated. I still didn’t fully trust him, not by a long shot. And the quick and efficient response to the highway incident had shown me quite clearly that Pietro was, well…when I’d half-joked about him being the head of the zombie mafia, I’d probably been underestimating his power and reach.

But I had no doubt he had a lot more experience with dealing with the aftermath of killing someone. And it wasn’t as if I had a whole lot of other people I could spill my guts to. I couldn’t exactly go to a therapist and say, “The thing is, I’m having some guilt issues over the fact that I’m a brain-eating murderer.”

“That would be great,” I heard myself saying.

“Excellent. I’ll tell Dr. Nikas you’ll be coming by shortly after noon.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll, uh, be ready.” I hung up, shaking my head at the awkwardness of my goodbye.

But then I laughed. A year ago I was a drugged-out felon shacking up with my loser boyfriend, Randy. In a couple of hours I was going to see zombie heads in a secret lab owned and operated by the head of the local zombie mafia.

Sometimes life was pretty damn funny.