Daryl Meadum had an impish grin, pale skin with freckles, and red to blond hair cut short. He was a nice-looking kid. Maybe fourteen. And I was pretty sure he was the boy I saw on Diggery’s road.
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Thirty-two.”
“He looks like he’s fourteen.”
“That’s part of the problem. People tend not to notice kids. And Daryl looks like apple pie. He’s soft-spoken. He appears shy. He exists in shadows. He’s always pleasant. He also has heightened senses and instincts like a cat.
“He isn’t capable of feeling remorse, unless it’s for losing a video game. His emotional age would be somewhere between nine and twelve. His passion is neuroscience. He’s held research positions at various universities since he was eighteen years old. For the last seven years he’s been working for the government. I’m told his knowledge and insight make him irreplaceably valuable. He has handlers who make sure he doesn’t starve or walk in front of a train or kill someone as a scientific experiment.
“Daryl slipped away from his guardian and disappeared from a conference in Munich four months ago. When a new st
reet drug surfaced that was based on brain cells, I was called in to find Daryl.”
“And you think Daryl is the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies,” I said.
Diesel grinned. “Yeah. He loves zombies, vampires, superheroes, werewolves. His dossier says he wears Power Rangers underwear.”
“Why does he need an underground cave to make his drug?” I asked.
“He doesn’t,” Diesel said. “He’s playing. You need to think like a nine-year-old boy. His drug makes zombies. Burrowing underground and playing hide-and-seek in a cemetery is part of his zombie play.”
“How does he survive?” I asked. “Where does he live? How does he get food? All that costs money. Where does he get money?”
“He steals. He cons. He hacks into systems. He improvises,” Diesel said. “And right now, he has Zero Slick to help him.”
“Two mental twelve-year-olds with delusions of fame,” Ranger said. “Engaged in role-playing.”
“Exactly,” Diesel said. “Daryl’s role is Supreme Ruler of the Zombies. It’s not clear if he knows he’s pretending or if he thinks he really is the Supreme Ruler. Slick is easier. He’s convinced he’s making an award-winning video.”
“His blog promised a new shocking video tonight, and he just asked me to meet him at the cemetery at ten o’clock. I’m worried he has video plans for me.”
“I’ve seen those videos,” Diesel said. “They need help. Smart of him to realize he needs to spice things up with a pretty girl.”
Being part of Slick’s video was sort of a depressing turn of events. On the other hand, Diesel thought I was pretty.
“He wants me to come alone,” I said. “How could he possibly believe I’d do that? He wants me to meet him at night in a cemetery that’s rampant with zombies.”
“He’s a YouTube sensation,” Diesel said. “In his mind, any woman would jump at the chance to be part of his video. And either he looks at you as a stupid, inferior female, or else you represent power and you would be stupidly fearless. Either way, you would think nothing of meeting him in a cemetery late at night.”
Jeez Louise. Now I was really depressed.
“This is good,” Diesel said. “We know where to find Slick. And if we find him, there’s hope that we can find Daryl. There’s even a decent possibility that Daryl might be on hand for the video.”
I was trying not to think too much about the video. I suspected it involved my brain.
“I can put a few key men in the cemetery, and I can put a drone in the sky,” Ranger said to Diesel. “I’m afraid if we involve the police there will be too much presence.”
“What about Stephanie?” Diesel asked.
Ranger looked at me. “Stephanie speaks for herself.”
Oh great. It was going to be my decision to risk my brain for the cause. The way I saw it I was going to look like an idiot if I was in, and I was going to look like a jerk if I wasn’t.
“Babe?” Ranger said.
I blew out a sigh. “I’m in. What’s my role?”