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

A thick lump of emotion lodged itself in my throat. I didn’t know his history, but I’d picked up that Jacques had worked with Dr. Nikas for decades. He needed Dr. Nikas as much as a zombie needed brains.

“I will,” I said around the lump. “I promise. I won’t come back without him.” I stepped outside and looked back at the two men. “Good luck.”

Jacques took hold of the handle and gave me a sad, tragic smile. “Thanks, Angel,” he said then tugged the door to close heavily.

I stood there for a moment and listened to the grinding chunks and whirrs of the door as it sealed, then pulled out my phone to text Philip.

Who won?

The reply came within seconds. Zombies rule.

Chapter 9

Loaded down with two coolers full of scavenged brain packets, I ran back to the security room. Signs of battle marred the walls and floor: bullet holes, scorch marks, thick smears of blood, and drag marks that led to a stack of black-uniformed bodies farther down the corridor. Breathless, I slid to a stop in the doorway. “Rachel’s on her way, Jacques and Reg are locked in the bunker, I grabbed as many brains as I could carry, and we need to get the hell out of here.”

To my complete shock, no one asked me to explain any of that.

Philip jerked his head toward the desk where four big baggies were neatly lined up, a whole brain in each one. “Will those fit in the coolers?”

“Three of them will, for sure,” I said after a second or two of thought. My mouth watered at the sight and delicious scent as I stuffed three baggies into the coolers. The fourth went into a small duffel I found under the desk, and I had no doubt the brain it held would be eaten long before it had a chance to spoil.

Philip stepped over Raul and Dan, heaved Kyle up to his feet, then hooked an arm around him for support. Naomi grabbed the coolers, and I scooped up every available handgun and tranq I could find, stuffed them into the duffel, then followed Philip to the front.

“Uncuff him,” Naomi said to Philip with a frown. “It’ll be easier.”

“Not until we’re away from here and can get some perspective,” Philip replied in a that’s-my-final-word tone.

A mulish expression formed on Naomi’s face, but I took her arm. “C’mon, it’s going to be okay,” I told her. She glowered, but didn’t make any further protests.

A quick peek out the front door showed that Rachel and the rest of the backup hadn’t yet arrived.

“We’ll take my car,” Philip announced as he headed in that direction. “Kyle, anything in yours we need to grab or should know about?”

“Jump . . . bag,” he slurred. “Trunk.”

“Mine’s in there too,” Naomi added.

Philip fished the keys from Kyle’s pocket and tossed them to me. I impressed myself by not dropping them, then ran to the car and popped the trunk. The only things within were a pair of black backpacks, each a bit larger than a school bag. I grabbed them, closed the trunk and ran back as Philip was folding Kyle into the back seat of his car.

“This what you meant?”

“Yesh.” He gave a lopsided nod. Naomi opened the back door on the other side, but Philip straightened and shook his head.

“Naomi, you’re up front with me,” he said in the same uncompromising tone he’d used earlier. Jaw set, she complied, but it was clear she was getting dangerously close to not putting up with this shit. However, Philip didn’t appear to give a flying fuck about her attitude or morale. He turned to me, pressed a tranq gun into my hand and met my eyes. “You can handle the back?”

I gulped. “Yeah.” I could, couldn’t I?

Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Philip speared her with a look that made the hardness of his voice seem as soft as fluffy cotton rabbit butts. She sat in the front, then glanced back at Kyle with a frown. “This is crazy.”

“No.” Kyle managed to shake his head. “Is . . . warr . . . anted. I would . . . do same.”

Naomi subsided at that. Philip and I climbed in, and then we got the hell out of there. When we made it to the highway without encountering Rachel and her team, every one of us let out a breath of relief.

Philip hung a right and floored it. “With any luck the mess we left at the lab will delay pursuit,” he said. “I figure we have about half an hour lead before they figure out how to track us.” He glanced in the rear view mirror at Kyle and got a nod of agreement. “I’ll head to the spillway, and then we can reevaluate.”

“Shit!” I dug in my pocket for my phone. “I don’t know if Marcus has heard about his uncle.”

“He needs to know,” Philip agreed.