White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

He gave me a sage nod. “We’re not driven to create more zombies. Ever. There’s no zombie hormones that make us bitey. We turn people we care about in order to keep them from dying.”

“The instinct I had when I made Philip and Andrew into zombies came after I decided I needed to turn them. To save them.”

“Exactly. We can lay dear Dr. Charish’s hasty theory to rest. Plus, she didn’t know about mature zombies, who need far less brains.”

“So what does it all mean?” I asked.

He laughed softly. “It means we are both parasite and person.”

I cocked my head. “Dr. Nikas once told me that the parasite isn’t really a parasite. Said calling it a ‘mutualistic symbiont with parasitic aspects’ was a somewhat better description.”

“It’s a union that creates something entirely new.” He shook his head. “We’re still mysteries, even to ourselves.”

Less of a mystery every day, thanks to Dr. Nikas. And, though I hated to admit it, Kristi Charish. “Speaking of mysteries, I have a burning personal question. Were you born a woman?”

“I was,” Kang said. “Though I often took a male form, for mere survival. Throughout much of history, a woman without a husband or family to protect her often had a poor outcome.”

I tried to imagine myself as a man. What would it feel like to have a dong flopping around? And just how itchy was ball itch? “So Pierce started out as Sulemain,” I said. The name definitely fit him. “What was your original name?”

His eyes darkened. “I don’t remember. The parasite protects memory to a vast extent, but . . . I never thought I would live this long. I didn’t think to remind myself of certain details, and I’ve been more people than I can count.” He forced a smile. “I’ve gone by Kang or a variation thereof for several centuries now. Makes it easier to remember who I’m supposed to be.”

“Damn. Sorry.” My phone buzzed, saving me from the awkward moment. “It’s Bear. Nick’s dad. I’d better take this.” I hit the answer button. “Hey, Bear—”

“Angel,” he gasped. “I’m at the bowling alley. My people . . . they turned. They turned shambler.”

Chapter 24

“Call nine-one-one! And what do you mean they turned? Your survivalist group?”

“I called already! They’re backed up. Dispatcher said it would be twenty minutes or more. It’s six of us here. I don’t know what—” Someone yelled in the background. “Jesus! Can you just fucking get here?”

“I’m only a block away. Hang tight.” I disconnected then started the car and zipped to the bowling alley, narrowly avoiding crashing into an SUV as it careened out of the parking lot at breakneck speed.

I drove right up to the front and bailed out. A teenage girl huddled by an ancient Honda Accord, her shirt emblazoned with “Alvin’s Alley.”

“Don’t go in there!” she gasped. “They went nuts. And someone shot Gussie.” She hiccupped a sob.

Kang dashed for the door. I dragged the girl to her feet. “Get in your car and go.”

“I can’t! I left my purse inside.”

I shoved my keys into her hand. “Then get in mine and lock the doors. And if you steal it, I swear I’ll hunt you down and do horror movie shit. Now move!”

She scrambled toward my car. I sprinted into the bowling alley then flinched at the sound of a gunshot. Across the room a plastic sign shattered.

“Stop shooting,” I roared even as Kang leaped over the snack bar and ripped the pistol from the owner’s hand—who promptly fled out the front door. With the immediate threat under control, I took stock of the situation.

Alvin’s Alley was twelve lanes of wholesome family fun decorated in a vaguely 70s retro theme, though with modern computerized scoreboards. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and safe. Except for today.

On the floor beside the nearest bowling ball return, a man with dreadlocks moaned and slavered in a pool of blood.

Bear stood at the far end of lane six beside a baby-faced man I recognized as one of Bear’s sales associates, Clark. Together they slung pins at two husky black dudes—the Rucker twins. In the next lane over, a woman with orange hair shambled toward them down the oiled surface.

“Don’t kill them!” Bear shouted, distressed.

“We won’t,” I called back, hoping it was true. But how to stop these new shamblers?

Dreadlocks Man let out a howl and dragged himself toward me, legs apparently useless. In a blur of zombie speed, Kang snatched a towel from the snack bar and bounded to his side. Hopefully to stop both Dreadlocks Man’s advance and the bleeding.