White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

Her voice grated through me. “It is my solemn duty to volunteer my expertise and services in this time of world crisis. I will find the cure.”

“Occupied with other matters, my ass,” I growled under my breath. People were dying, and there she was puffing herself up in interviews, all fake altruistic and shit. That was definitely in character.

“Why’s that bitch involved with any of this?” he demanded.

I sighed. “We’re in deep shit, and she offered to help Dr. Nikas. Common ground to stop the spread of the zombie epidemic.”

“She ain’t right in the head.” He jumped up, face flushed and hands balled into fists. “Tell me right now you ain’t goin’ nowhere near that good for nothin’—”

“Dad! I have to.”

“Let them other zombie hot shots deal with her. You don’t have to be around her.”

“I do,” I blurted. “This shambler mess is my fault.” Somehow saying it out loud to my dad made it worse. And better. He would never blame me. “Long story, and it wasn’t on purpose, but I’m the source of the infection, which means I’m needed for samples and stuff.”

His body slumped in a sigh. “Damn, Angelkins. When you gonna get cut some slack?”

“Soon, I hope.” I gave him a wobbly smile. No need for him to worry more than he had to. “There’s some serious brain power happening when Dr. Nikas and Kristi work together.”

“You ain’t fool enough to trust her, right?”

“Not in the slightest. It’s like having a cottonmouth in your sleeping bag. It’s fine and dandy while it’s cozy and warm, but it can bite you in the ass at any time.”

He gave a grudging nod of approval. “Don’t you let your guard down for one second, y’hear?”

“I swear I’ll be careful.” I nodded toward the game console. “I have some time before I have to get ready. How about we take Momzombique and your guy . . .”

“Barney.”

I rolled my eyes. “. . . and Barney the Barbarian out on a little spider demon hunt.”

“Hot diggety damn. Mebbe you can help me kill the Skeleton Spider!”

“It would be my greatest pleasure.”

It took the better part of an hour, and each of our characters died twice, but we eventually fought our way to the lair of

the dreaded Skeleton Spider and dispatched the foul beast. Dad whooped and hollered with abandon as we collected the treasure, but no amount of monster-killing glory could make me forget the ugly truth.

I was about to be Kristi Fucking Charish’s lab rat.

• • •

Even though I’d been to NuQuesCor several times before, I still needed my GPS to help me navigate the convoluted route. Situated in the eastern end of the parish, it was a twenty-minute drive from my house. Less, if you drove like a bat out of hell.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot and gazed up at the building that housed the biotech company. Three stories of white brick, with a scattered handful of windows to break up the monotony. Boring, stark, and functional.

Squaring my shoulders, I strode up the sidewalk and through double glass doors into a vast lobby that more than made up for the exterior—marble floors, burnished metal wall panels, artsy sculptures, and a number of comfortable seating areas. A dozen or so people mingled near a coffee stand—some in business clothes, and others in dressy casual with lab coats. A grizzled security guard sat within the circular desk in the center.

A fresh-faced young man in a tailored pinstripe suit approached from the direction of a curving staircase.

“Good morning!” he said, smiling brightly. “You must be Angel Crawford?”

“I am,” I replied cautiously. “You work here?”

“No ma’am.” His smile widened. “I work for Dr. Charish!”

“That’s . . . awesome.” No way could anyone fake being that cheerful. “Can you tell me where I need to go?”