White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

“Kyle, that might be the FBI agent—Sorsha Aberdeen . . .” He didn’t respond, which meant he’d returned to the main channel. I waved at him and pointed to my headset. Portia didn’t need to hear any of this.

Kyle switched back to three, and I repeated what I’d said. He nodded then tapped Brian on the shoulder and held up four fingers.

I was tempted to switch over and listen in, but decided Kyle would simply pass along my observation. There wasn’t much we could do about Sorsha except be on our toes.

The helicopter dropped lower and circled the ugly white lump that was NuQuesCor. A limo was parked out front, with a black sedan behind it. Reno exited the sedan as Billy gave Kristi a hand out of the limo’s backseat. She shaded her eyes and looked up, then gave us a cheerful wave.

I flipped her off. She wouldn’t be able to see it, but it made me feel better.

The pilot touched down gently on the roof then let the rotors wind down. I hopped out once the doors were open and helped Portia out. “Have you flown in a helicopter before?” I asked her.

“No. Never. That was delightful!”

I returned her smile and tried not to think about bucket lists and whether “helicopter ride” was on hers.

Brian escorted us to the stairwell and downstairs to the LZ-1 research suite. Portia’s eyes were bright with interest as she took everything in.

We had a few minutes before Kristi made her way up here, more if she stopped at the coffee stand downstairs for a chai latte. And maybe that car hadn’t been Sorsha’s. After all, surely there were plenty of dark green Impalas. On a somewhat remote back road. Headed toward NuQuesCor. Plenty. Really.

Raul and Dan greeted us as we entered the main lab. Though they looked alert, it was clear they were bored out of their minds. Not too much excitement on the night shift. Fritz leaned against a counter, coffee in hand, and murmured a polite “Good morning.”

Reg sat in one of the work bays, poring over data. Beside him was a large whiteboard filled with Dr. Nikas’s unique shorthand. He glanced up with a distracted “yo” then returned to his work. In the next bay, Beardzilla had his head down on the table, fast asleep, and Hairy Tech sat and stared, eyes bloodshot. Had Kristi given them any down time?

Nearby, Pierce and Dr. Nikas stood with their heads together in discussion. Whatever the topic, Dr. Nikas looked stressed.

Yet at the sight of Portia, he brightened like a kid who got a pony on Christmas. He left Pierce scowling at the interruption and strode toward us. “Dr. Antilles. Portia. I am so very delighted by your offer of assistance.”

“I truly hope I can be of use, Ari,” she said with a warm smile.

Dr. Nikas seemed to remember there were other people in the room. “Ah, Pierce Gentry, may I introduce Dr. Portia Antilles.”

Pietro had known Portia via Jane, but Pierce was meeting her for the first time. “Dr. Antilles. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Portia replied, shaking his hand.

Pierce’s expression flickered for the barest instant, then he gestured to a nearby chair. “Would you care for water or coffee?”

“Coffee with a little sugar would be lovely. Thank you.”

Like Dr. Nikas, he could smell her cancer, I realized, and he was being extra-nice because of it. I’d never ever seen him offer to fetch coffee for anyone before.

“Coffee, one sugar, coming up.” Pierce smiled and glanced at Brian who nodded and strode off. Okay, still the Pierce I knew and loved.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to sense illness in other people, whether you wanted to or not. Horrifying, most likely. Sure, there’d be times when you could catch a disease early and get the person timely treatment. But there would also be situations like this, where the person was dying and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it, apart from a horribly slim chance of successfully making them a zombie. And turning wouldn’t be an option for most people since we had to be selective about who we zombified. Too many zombies, and bad shit would happen. It was like not letting more people into a lifeboat because it would sink. What a terrible burden that must be.

I stepped close to Pierce and murmured softly. “I think Agent Sorsha Aberdeen might be on her way here.”

Pierce gave a micro-nod. “Brian notified me before you landed. The best thing we can do is not arouse any suspicion.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving?” I asked. “After all, she might have questions for a man who used to work in New York for Saberton then abandoned it all to live in the Deep South.”

Pierce glowered. “Yes, I’ve already considered that. And yes, the most prudent course of action is for me to leave with Raul and Dan. Just be polite, and don’t give her any info she doesn’t need.”

Holy shit. Pierce was actually removing himself from a potentially sticky situation. “I’m so proud of you,” I said and pretended to wipe away a tear.

“Fuck off, Angel,” he said amiably and headed off to where Raul and Dan waited by the door.

The scent of fresh brains wafted over me. Rachel with a container full of chunks. She locked eyes with Fritz, lifted a piece, and made a show of slowly slurping it down, tongue darting out to lick her lips clean of dripping brain juices.