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

“Not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

He picked a stained coffee cup off the counter and tapped ash into it. “Why don’t you try me.”

I remained still for a moment while I ran down my options, possible lies, what portions of the truth I could tell. In a weird way I missed the simplicity of my old life. No big secrets that could destroy other people’s lives. Simple goals.

More like no goals, I reminded myself. Wanting more out of life was hard work but worth it. “You can’t tell anyone,” I finally said.

His brows drew together. “Shit. What kind of trouble you got yourself into?”

“Swear to me you won’t repeat anything I tell you tonight,” I said. “I mean not one fucking word to anyone. I’m not exaggerating when I say my life depends on it.”

He took a pull off the cigarette then held it out for me. “You know I can keep my mouth shut.”

I took the cig and thought about that for a few seconds. Despite his many other faults, he wasn’t one to blab secrets.

Well, this would be interesting. I took a drag, not even minding that it would use up brains. “Okay. So, I have this medical condition, and I have to take a certain kind of supplement about once a week or I get really messed up,” I began. “Problem is that this supplement is illegal, but there’s an organization of people who all need this same kind of supplement, and we all work together to get it. But there’s also this big corporation who wants to control it and study what it does to us, because some of the stuff about this certain medical condition is kind of good, as long as we get the supplement. I mean, like, we don’t really get sick the usual way anymore.” God this was all kinds of fucked up, but I was in too deep to stop now. Taking a deep breath, I plowed on. “And now the big corporation has kidnapped the head of our, um, group, as well as the main scientist who studies this medical condition. And if we don’t get them back we’re all pretty much fucked.” I took another drag and handed it back to him.

“Damn.” He took the cig, frowned. “You know that sounds crazy, right?”

I gave him a crooked smile. “I toldja you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Funny thing is, it’s too crazy to be made up.” The frown stayed on his face. “You know I’m not one for calling the cops, but kidnapping sounds like a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, there’s that whole illegal supplement part of it,” I pointed out. “If we call the cops, these guys are in even bigger trouble.” Cripes, it sounded like I was working with a cartel. Then again, in some ways I was. Just not the kind of drugs Randy expected.

“Makes sense.” He put the cigarette to his lips, then lowered it. He looked suspiciously at it and then to me. “How do I know I haven’t caught this shit from you?”

“Doesn’t work that way,” I told him. “Promise. I mean, it’s not contagious just by being around someone or fucking them. It’s pretty rare.”

Apparently satisfied, he sucked on the cigarette then headed to the hallway. “Y’know, since you’re done with that cop, it’d be all right if you hung out here again some.” He stopped in front of the dryer, picked a t-shirt and a pair of shorts out of the pile atop it and tugged them on.

I couldn’t keep the slight smile off my face. “I appreciate the offer. I’m gonna try being single for a while though. I really haven’t been since I was a teenager.”

He didn’t respond to that, simply walked back to the living room and tamped the cig out in the ashtray on the coffee table. “Let’s go find you a car.” He dug a ring of keys out of the sofa cushions then headed out the door. I followed, relieved.

He paused to flick a switch at the end of his trailer then continued on. A floodlight above the garage flared on, drowning out the yellow of the bug light. Faded brown paint peeled on the big sliding door.

“What kinda car you need?” he asked over his shoulder as he fiddled with the lock on the garage door.

“I need something big enough for four people, that can get us to . . . Chicago.” I caught myself barely in time from giving away our real destination. I trusted Randy, but there were limits to every trust.

He wheeled around, surprise and worry on his face. “Goddamn, Angel. What the hell you gonna do with yourself in a city like that?”

The worry I’d been holding back finally rose up in a smothering wave. “I dunno,” I said, slumping. “Stick close to the people I’m with, I guess. Jesus, Randy, I’m scared out of my fucking mind.” I could talk to him about this, I realized. “I’ve never been that far from home before. New Orleans is the biggest city I’ve ever been to, which isn’t saying a whole lot.”

He slid the garage door open with a screech of tired metal. “These people you’re with, they got your back?”

“Yeah, they do,” I said without hesitation. “They’re totally cool.” But then I sighed. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be though. They pretty much have to bring me along because of another guy’s, er, health condition.” I shook my head. “Hard to explain, but I definitely feel like a fifth wheel.” I tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak and humorless.

Randy turned to face me. “You’ll be okay, Angel,” he said with utt

er conviction. “You always are.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “Just take some of that good ol’ Louisiana coonass mojo with you, and those city folk won’t know what hit ’em.” He pivoted and flicked a light on inside the garage, while I stood there gaping at the completely unexpected show of support.

“This one ain’t pretty but it runs good,” he continued as he pulled a cloth off a dark green Ford Taurus sedan with a long dented scrape down the driver’s side. “Rebuilt engine and new tranny. It’ll get you up north.”

I quickly wiped my eyes before he could see my sniveling, then stepped up to examine the car. “That’s perfect.” I slanted a quick look at him. “It’s not hot, is it?”

“Nah. This one’s cool. You won’t get in trouble driving it.” His eyes ducked away, obviously remembering the time I drove a car that wasn’t cool, thanks to him, and got busted for possession of stolen property. “Guy gave it to me couple months ago in exchange for work I did on his truck and other car. Wasn’t nothing but a piece of scrap to him. It’s legit. Promise. I was gonna get it painted and then sell it.” He unwound a key off the ring and handed it to me.