White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

Brian cleared his throat softly. “Angel, I’ll be going now.”

I glanced over, smiled. “Thanks, Brian.”

He gave us a nod as I closed the passenger door, his professional mask in place while he backed out. Was the official air for Marcus’s benefit? Brian had certainly been more relaxed with me alone. Or maybe it was simply habit. Who could tell with him?

After retrieving the crutches, Marcus and I headed inside where he immediately tossed the crutches into the corner and stumped along on his half cast.>Home. Right. Wherever the hell that was. “Sure thing,” I replied numbly.

He gave me a small nod, then turned and left me alone with my roiling thoughts.

Chapter 25

I gave a pint of my blood to Jacques, accepted a packet of brains in return, then checked on Philip. He seemed to be sleeping comfortably, and the lines of pain in his face had smoothed out a bit. After twitching the blanket a bit higher over his shoulders, I looked over to the waiting Brian.

“Are you my ride?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied. “No rush.”

Kyle was resting quietly. Heather lay stretched out on the mattress beside him reading to him in a low voice from a book called Abaddon’s Gate with a big spaceship on the cover. They weren’t cuddling or anything, but I didn’t think Brian was thrilled about it anyway. A whisper of an expression that might have been jealousy touched his face but disappeared the instant he realized I was looking at him.

Ooooh, Brian really does like Heather! My inner third-grader cheered. But then I had to mask a grin. It was only fair to leave open the possibility that it was Kyle who Brian liked. Either way it seemed there might be some zombie soap opera brewing.

Still hiding a smile, I exited the lab with Brian close behind, headed to his Escalade and allowed him to hold the passenger door open for me, but only because he beat me there.

“To Marcus’s house?” Brian asked after he climbed into the driver’s seat, and it took me a minute to remember why the heck he wanted to drive me there instead of my own house.

“Oh, yeah, right,” I said. “My house is probably somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico by now.” And so now I’m gonna stay with Marcus. I held back a grimace. This had the potential to be awkward. After the attack at the boat launch I’d spent the night with him, but that had been the first time in ages. And now I was about to basically move in, for who the hell knew how long.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “You’ve had a devastating couple of days.”

“It sure hasn’t been the best week of my life,” I said then shook my head. “No, actually it was a pretty decent week, even with all of the Saberton crap. It was only a few hours on Friday morning that sucked sweaty balls.”

Brian let out a low snort. “That land you were living on, do you own it?”

“Well, my dad does, yeah,” I replied. “So it’d be stupid not to stay there.” I shook my head. “It was all right for ordinary flood levels. The spillway break was a once in a lifetime thing.” I winced. “At least I sure as hell hope so. Anyway, I’m hoping I can buy a trailer or something and put it there.”

“They have some pretty nice ones these days,” Brian offered. “And modular housing that doesn’t look like a trailer.”

“Even if I want to get a shitty one, I’m gonna have to borrow money.” I scowled. “Damn. This sucks. The only person in the world who might be willing to loan me money would maaaaaybe be Pietro, and…” I trailed off with a sigh.

Brian glanced over at me. “And?”

“I don’t know if I want the strings that would come with it,” I said quietly.

“Maybe find out what the strings will be before writing off the possibility,” Brian replied. At least he wasn’t denying that said strings would exist. “Can’t hurt to talk to him. You don’t have to commit to anything.”

“Oh, I intend to talk to him. I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I shook my head. “That’s the worst part. I don’t have a choice. Who the hell else would write me or my dad a loan to buy even a crappy used trailer at rates that aren’t criminal?”

“I see what you mean,” Brian said, exhaling. “But the alternative—having no resource at all—would be worse. And, yes, I know I’m biased.” He gave me a slight smile.

“I know, I know,” I replied, wrinkling my nose. “I’m lucky to even have this option. Don’t mind me. I’m being stupid.” I was lucky. I knew that. How did people without credit or collateral or other options go about rebuilding after a disaster?

“Not stupid,” he said. “Simply wary of walking open-eyed into a trap. I get it.”

“Right,” I said. “I’ve done that kind of thing already and it wasn’t fun.” Like trading myself for my dad to end up as one of Dr. Charish’s lab rats. I didn’t regret doing so for a second, but damn, that had not been fun.

Brian cleared his throat softly. “I owe you an apology.”

Frowning, I glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”