How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (White Trash Zombie 4)

I frowned. Not even a Maybe I can help you, or Come on in? “Jacques, we need help, sooner rather than later.” Whether Dr. Nikas was available or not, I’d feel better at the lab in case anything else happened with Philip. “We’ll head over now.”

“Now? Wait. Hold on.” A second later an onslaught of tinny elevator music screeched through the phone.

I glanced at Philip. “I’m on hold, and Jacques’s acting weird.”

The music stopped and a female voice said, “Angel?”

“Naomi?” I replied. “What the hell is going on? Why is Jacques all stressed out, and why are you at the lab this late?”

“Kyle and I are assigned here tonight,” she said, an intense edge in her voice. “Jacques said you and Philip need to come in for an assessment?”

“Yeah. What’s the deal?”

“Not on the phone,” she said. “You can come on in, but we changed the codes for the doors. Ready to hear them?”

“Did something happen to Dr. Nikas?”

“We’ll talk when you get here,” she insisted, her tone no-nonsense. “These are based on the weapons locker code. The first one, add a twenty-three to the end. The second one, add a seventy-six to the beginning. Got it?”

“Weapons locker. Twenty-three at the end for the first, seventy-six at the beginning for the second,” I repeated, and a nod from Philip told me he knew the sequence. “We’ll be there in about a half an hour, and no more dodging the questions.”

“You got it,” she said. “See you in a bit.”

I jammed the phone into my purse and headed for the door. “Something serious is up. Let’s go.”

Kyle and Naomi’s silver SUV was in front of the building when Philip pulled into the lot. He parked beside it, and as soon as the car stopped I threw open the door and clambered out. “What’s the weapons locker code?”

“Three-seven-seven-six-zero-eight-four-one,” he rattled off as he noted mileage in his log book.

I hurried to the door, punched in up to the sixty-eight and called back, “What were the last two?”

“Four-one,” he said though the open door.

I entered that then added the twenty-three, and enjoyed an irrational sense of satisfaction as the lock buzzed. It wasn’t as if I’d cracked the damn code myself or anything. I pulled the door open and glanced back. “Philip, come on.”

He still sat behind the wheel, his head lowered, writing. I frowned. No, not writing. His head lolled to the side. Alarm shot through me. “Philip!?”

He jerked and sat upright as though waking from sleep, a bewildered look on his face. I released the door handle and rushed back to the car. “Dude, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I greyed out, but I feel fine now.”

“The fucking Plague strikes again,” I said with a worried scowl. “Let’s get your ass inside.”

Philip climbed out of the car, swayed a bit, then steadied. “I’m okay. That sucked.”

The door clicked open, and Naomi stuck her head out. “You two okay? The code dinged, then you didn’t come in.”

“Sorry,” I said, heading her way. “Philip had another episode.”

She opened the door wide. “Get inside. I’m not wishing bad stuff on you, but it’ll be good for Jacques to have something to do.”

We passed through the drab reception area that I was certain was meant to convince anyone who managed to get through the outer door that they were most certainly not at a super secret high tech zombie lab.

“Enough of the riddle shit,” I said as Naomi punched the code into the next security door. “Why does Jacques need distraction? What is going on?”

The door clicked open, and we passed through. “Trouble,” Naomi said as she waved at the mirrored glass in the next small room, the last security checkpoint before entering the lab complex. “Hang on, I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re through.”

The heavy door on the far wall buzzed, and we passed through into a wide corridor. Ahead of us were the thick sliding glass doors to the central lab, with the medical wing and security office off to the right. Naomi continued forward as the glass doors slid open, and we followed her into the lab. Kyle lounged at a station, calmly reading a fat paperback, though he paused long enough to give us a nod.