White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

He stepped away to call Nick. I made my way to the media room, where I found my dad playing Swords and Swagger on the big screen TV.

I gaped. “You brought the PlayBox here?”

He startled then faced me with a mulish expression. “Well, y’gave me a half hour’s notice, and I remembered that this place ain’t exactly a fun house.”

“Okay. Wow.” But I had to admit he had a point. “Well, you know how I said it might’ve been from someone with the Tribe? It turns out it was from Andrew Saber—the guy I turned into a zombie when I was in New York.”

“What, like a weird ass Mother’s Day gift?”

I snickered. “Not quite. He had to go into hiding because there was a chance his mother—Nicole Saber of Saberton Corporation—had found out he was a zombie. And he’s using the game as a way to communicate with me.”

“So I guess I shoulda left it at the house.” He grimaced. “Sorry, baby. I’ll get it all unplugged so you can take it back.”

“Nah, keep it. I’d never get it set up right in a million years. But if I’m not here and need to get a message to Andrew or talk to him, you have to do it for me.”

He groaned. “Guess it serves me right for bringing it along.”

“Sure does.” I grinned and kissed the top of his head then went to the research wing.

I found Dr. Nikas in the computer room seated beside Portia. Before them, amorphous blobs flowed across a monitor screen. Portia said something that made Dr. Nikas laugh, a warm sound that sent a wave of delight through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard him really laugh. Nearby, Marla lay flopped on the floor, with Portia’s big dog, Moose, beside her.

Dr. Nikas looked up as I entered. “Angel, I was just showing Dr. Antilles some of our research.”

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Please, call me Portia.”

His own smile turned radiant. “And you must call me Ari.”

I bit my lip. “Portia, you’re not freaked out?”

“I admit I had a few qualms, but Ari has been showing me how the organism utilizes prions. It’s quite fascinating.” She stood, probably sensing that I needed to talk privately with Dr. Nikas. “But I’d best go see if Jane needs anything.” She politely excused herself and left, with Moose padding behind her.

He watched her go, smile fading.

“She’s really nice, isn’t she,” I said.

“Indeed she is. A remarkable woman.”

“You don’t look very happy about it.”

He looked away. “She is also a very sick woman.”

I sank onto a stool. “Please tell me you mean sick like ‘Whoa, dude, that kick flip was sick!’”

“Alas, no. Unless I’m mistaken, she has advanced pancreatic cancer.”

Tears stung my eyes. “Well, that sucks.” Understatement of the century. Dr. Nikas could smell sickness, so I had no reason to doubt him. Dammit. I should have fucking hugged her at the coffee shop. “Maybe she’d be willing to be turned?”

The lines in his face deepened. “It’s much harder to turn someone successfully when they have late-stage cancer.”

I frowned. “But Kyle had advanced lymphoma when Brian turned him.”

“Kyle beat enormous odds. I don’t have enough data to make a definitive statement, but I would estimate less than a fifteen percent chance of success with metastasized cancer. And if the turning fails, death is immediate.”

I silently railed at the unfairness of it all. I had a feeling Dr. Nikas was doing the same. “How much time does she have?” I asked, pleased that my voice only wobbled a little.

“Perhaps six months. Without reviewing her test results or, er, tasting her, I cannot be certain.”

I squared my shoulders. “Okay, we’ll deal with that once the current crisis is over.” I refused to let myself believe the current crisis might last much longer. “I couldn’t get the bowling alley carpet, but I got some blood on a bar rag and gave it to Kristi. Since you weren’t there, I saved the bag so you have some to work with.” I handed over the bag and the two bottles. “This is what Bear’s people at the bowling alley were drinking. Nice Springs. Maybe the shambler disease was spread through the water? I know it’s a longshot.”