White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

She lifted her eyes to mine. “I know. Pretty cold-blooded.”

I shrugged. I sure as hell couldn’t judge her. I’d have probably done the same damn thing if some asshole was torturing a friend. “What happened to Garrett?” I asked.

“He headed off with a bag of brain slices and a plan to go into hiding big time. Haven’t seen him since.” Sick anger flashed over her face. “Garrett worked hard as a driver. I know he didn’t have any idea what he was getting into when he signed on with Saberton. They promised him a regular supply of brains. Didn’t tell him what else they intended.”

My gut was tight with horror over the whole scenario, but I simply nodded.

“So I’d gotten an up close and personal look at what Saberton was doing with zombies, and I’d killed one of the research guys,” Heather continued, voice strained, “but they hadn’t figured out it was me. I wasn’t ready to jump ship yet, but I wanted to know more about my options. I went back to check out some Saberton confidentials on Mr. Ivanov’s organization. I got into the security feeds without any problems,” she said as if it was nothing. “But what I saw…” Her face paled.

“What was it?” I prompted.

Her eyes went to me. “The first video I pulled of any significance was of you, Angel,” she said to my utter surprise. “I saw everything Kristi Charish’s team did to you. Locking you in a cage, searching you.” She swallowed. “And what they made you do to Philip and Aaron.”

Numb, cold horror set in. Videos of all that are out where people can see them.

But Heather was still talking. “And there were more videos: with Philip, when he bit Tim Bell and Roland Westfeld, and with some other zombies later.” Tears came to her eyes. “With my mother and brother right there. Condoning all of it.”

I considered everything she’d told me. “What exactly did you do for Saberton?”

Heather twisted her head to wipe her eyes on her shoulder. “On the surface, I worked in the PR department and was a photographer for them,” she said. “In reality, I did industrial espionage. And I was good at it.” She said it as a statement of fact, no ego attached. “My grandfather had done espionage-type work for the military. He figured out early on that I loved it, so he taught me, doted on me, groomed me almost my whole life.” An odd sadness touched her eyes. “My mother didn’t seem to have any problem with it, encouraged it even. So at an early age, Nicole Saber’s daughter dropped out of memory, presumed off at boarding school, and I got to do what I loved. Pretty lucky, huh?”

I made a noncommittal grunt. In light of recent developments, I didn’t think she was feeling all that lucky.

“No one other than my grandfather, mother, brother, and a few insiders knew me as anything other than Heather Lucas, a nobody corporate photographer. And I guess it was all just a big game for me until…Kang. And then Garrett. And the vids.” Tears glimmered in her eyes again. “But it’s not a game.”

“No,” I said quietly. “It really isn’t.”

She sighed, expression haunted. “Yeah, can’t just call a do over. And now I know how dirty I am. Life really sucks sometimes.”

I gave a soft snort. “I know ‘suck.’ Trust me.”

“If I hadn’t freaked the hell out when you IDed me as a Saber, I had the big plan of escaping tonight. I already had the door disabled. Not that I wanted to go, but I had to, y’know?” Heather took a deeper breath, glanced up at the sprinkler. “I swear, in those drawings I gave you everything I had that’s of use.”

I had no doubt Brian was making a lot of phone calls right now. “What happened after Brian caught you taking pics?”

Heather made a pained face. “I already knew I wanted out. No doubt about it. But getting out from under Saberton would take some time and planning. At the hospital after Brian,” she lifted her splinted hand slightly, “I had the fantasy that I could just switch sides.” She let out a low snort. “Like anything is that simple when dealing with this kind of thing. So I let that go and headed back to my hotel room to come up with an exit strategy.” She grimaced.

I gave her a Keep Going nod.

“My brother was there,” she said after a moment. “Andrew Saber. And everything went downhill after that.”

I remembered him from the Gala. Tall, Blond, and Serious. “He knew?”

Her grimace deepened. “He knew I’d killed Brent Stewart. Put pressure on me about getting myself in line with the company philosophy. Threatened to let our mother know I’d killed the guy if I didn’t.” She let out a shuddering breath. “Mother can be…vicious, and I know my brother really well. I’d never be anything but his bitch for life if I agreed. I should have let it go. Should have agreed to anything just to get out of there, but I was exhausted, on edge and already doubting so much.” A look of anguish came over her features.

“Did you kill him too?” I asked uncertainly.

“No!” she replied, eyes widening in shock. She shook her head in a firm motion. “No. God no. But I didn’t let it go when I should have. I told him I was through with all of the Saberton crap.” She winced. “Not a good thing to say to the next CEO. We argued and it turned ugly. Physical. He’s stronger, but I’m quicker and I’ve had more training. I got in a lucky punch that laid him out, and left him hog-tied with the bed sheet.” She looked at me. “That’s when I knew it was over. They’d never trust me again. And so I had no choice but to run. Right then, with no plans or arrangements made.”

“Okay. Wow.” I fell silent for a moment while I processed it all. “I’m gonna help you any way I can,” I finally said.

She gave me a weak smile. “You already did. The rest is gravy.”

“I mean it,” I said, frowning. “I’m real good at doing stupid shit. And I’m gonna bring it hard if Brian doesn’t come in here with a goddamn welcome home fruit basket.”

Her brow creased in worry. “Angel, it’s okay. There won’t be any welcome home fruit basket and it’s okay. I don’t want you getting yourself messed up over this. Really.”

“No, it’s not okay,” I stated firmly. “And that’s all there is to it.”