White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

He gave a slow nod. “See what you can do.” He paused. “Please,” he added, almost like a prayer.

“Gotcha,” I said and flashed him a tight smile. “Lemme at her.”

Chapter 15

Brian walked me around the corner and down a hallway. “Remember, she’s good at what she does,” he told me. “She’s, ah, easy to open up to.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” I remarked as he stopped before a windowless door.

“Here’s her room,” he said. He punched a key code into the obviously locked door. “I’ll be monitoring.”

I took a deep breath, then entered and closed the door behind me. Heather sat propped in a hospital bed with a rolling table in front of her, pencil in hand, drawing what looked like an intricate swirling abstract. Her left arm sported a bandage and sling to go along with her splint, and traces of bruising showed on her face. A pile of drawings lay on the table beside her hand along with more blank white paper. A dozen or so origami animals of various types clustered on a built-in counter to my right. A doorway led into a small bathroom. No frills and nothing dangerous. Pretty much a secure hospital room.

“Hey, chick,” I said with a bright smile. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

Heather set the pencil down and hurriedly shoved her drawing under the others, then stacked the rest of the blank paper on top of them. I let my gaze linger on the drawings and origami. She’d been busy. Or incredibly bored.

She pushed up from the pillows, wincing faintly as if the movement tweaked an existing headache. “Did I look that bad?” she asked, still managing a broad smile for me. “I thought it had a street savvy flair about it.”

“Right, more like road kill flair,” I said with a snort. “Though I don’t have much room to talk.”

“Nope you had me beat, I think.” She let out a low chuckle. “The hanging jaw, the bullet holes. I was definitely outclassed.”

“I’ve had too much practice,” I said as I leaned up against the counter next to the origami. “You’ve been busy.” I picked up a little unicorn and peered at the little twisted horn.

She glanced at the animals, then the pile of papers beside her. “Yeah. Otherwise, I’d go stir crazy,”

I set the unicorn next to a paper praying mantis, resisted the urge to play with them and make it look as if the mantis was eating the unicorn. “This is really cool,” I said. “About all I can do is an origami baseball.”

She smiled, obviously well aware that an origami baseball was nothing more than a wadded up piece of paper. “Paper and pencil were all I could wheedle out of Jacques. And I think I’m still in deep debt for the sharpener.”

“You must have done the dragon that’s sitting on his computer then, right?” I asked.

Her smile widened with a touched of pleased surprise. “It’s on his computer?”

“Perched right on his monitor,” I replied.

“Nice,” she said, for a brief instant looking relaxed and happy. “Thanks for telling me that.”

I lifted my chin toward the pile of papers by her hand, “Whatcha drawing?” She didn’t seem to be shy about the origami, so why be that way with the drawings?

She laid her hand on top of the stack of papers. “Oh, just doodles to kill time, that’s all.”

I sat at the foot of the bed, pulled my legs underneath me. What little I’d seen sure wasn’t a simple doodle. The girl had some talent. “So, what’s gonna happen to you next?” I asked, still keeping my voice light. “How soon you getting out of here?”

Heather shook her head. “No idea. Dr. Nikas says he’s keeping me for observation.” She shrugged. “Other than this,” she gestured to her left arm with the broken fingers and gunshot wound, “I feel okay. A little headachy, that’s all.”

“Right. I mean after that,” I said, watching her carefully. “You gonna come work for Pietro? Is that what you want?”

A whisper of what looked like anxiety tightened the skin around her eyes, but then she gave me a bright smile and it was gone. “Oh, yeah. That would be awesome.”

“I mean, that’s your whole goal, right?” I continued, all of the lightness leaving my voice. “All of this bullshit. That’s what this was all about, right? Get in as one of us?” I cocked my head as her smile faded. “Brian knows you’re not just a photographer.”

She sank back into the pillows, expression bleak, but not showing surprise. “Damn.”

“Brian said I could come in and talk to you,” I said. “Maybe get the whole story. He’ll probably want to talk to you after I’m done here.” My eyes dropped to her broken fingers. “He said Hi to you once already. I don’t think you’d like a whole conversation.”>I had no doubt he’d been tanked on brains when he talked to her, which means he’d be able to smell a flea fart. “What did she say to cover herself?”

Brian shook his head. “She didn’t. I walked out to, uh, do some remodeling,” he said with a glance at the hole in the wall, “then went to find you. No more talking for now. I’ll let her sweat.”