My stomach twisted again as I crawled over the body bag toward the back door. I almost laughed as the scent of the body inside it hit me, and I pushed back the brief urge to rip open the bag and take care of the deep craving. Yeah, that would be my usual method, doing the right thing and then screwing it all up anyway.

I made it out of the van just as the approaching pickup screeched to a stop. Two middle-aged men leaped out and came toward me at a run—the driver already on his cell phone, calling for help. I tried to stand, but my legs weren’t having any of it, and I ended up sitting on the ground by the van.

Glass and shards of broken mirror littered the pavement, echoing the night sky. I kept my eyes on the two men and didn’t look down. If I saw my reflection right now, I knew I’d see the same hunger I’d seen in the zombie.

The other zombie.

Chapter 11

“Angel. Angel? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Blue and red lights flickered across my vision, bouncing off the broken glass littering the highway and casting bizarre shadows as highway workers pulled the tree out of the road. The crackle of radios mixed with the buzz of conversation in an excited white noise that made it tough to concentrate on any one thing. The metal of the van was warm on my back, and I found myself pressing against it in a vain attempt to keep the slight chill in the air from seeping into me. Mist was beginning to form in the swamp, slowly creeping out onto the road to give the entire scene a surreal and far-too-spooky feel. I was just attacked by a zombie, I thought sourly. I don’t need the horror movie special effects, thank you very much.

I dragged my gaze away from the swamp and back to the paramedic crouched in front of me. “Three,” I replied. I was tempted to make a smartass remark but managed to resist. Even if I’d had a concussion right after the accident, I was fairly positive I didn’t have one now. And the last thing I needed was to be kept out of work for any longer than necessary.

The paramedic made a low noise in his throat and proceeded to shine an annoying light into my eyes. He looked familiar and a glance at his nametag confirmed it. Quinn. Oh, right. Ed Quinn. The paramedic who’d worked on me when I overdosed.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” I said, making myself give him a wry smile. I didn’t feel much like smiling, wryly or otherwise, but I figured I’d make as good a show as possible of being all right. “At least I have clothing on this time,” I added. Yeah, much better to make a joke out of that last horrible time. Not that I remembered any of it. Then again, that made it easier to laugh it off.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I could say something really inappropriate here, but I’ll be good.” He peered at my forehead. “That cut doesn’t look very big, and it’s not bleeding anymore. If you’re worried about a scar they can probably throw a few stitches onto that in the ER.”

I already knew I didn’t need to worry about scars, but I gave him a small nod anyway.

He patted me lightly on the shoulder. “Looks like you got out of this one with only a couple of cuts. Good thing you were wearing your seatbelt.”

“Damn straight,” I said, and I didn’t have to fake the note of fervor in my voice. Maybe I wouldn’t have died, but I probably would have been too messed up to fight the zombie off.

Zombie. Holy shit. I managed to hold in the shudder of horror until Ed turned away. I didn’t need him thinking I was going into shock or anything like that. Though in a way I kinda felt like I was. Is that what I have to look forward to?

There were advantages, though. Right? I mean, the whole “eat brains and heal up” thing could come in pretty handy. Plus there was that whole business about being strong and fast—as long as I was tanked up on brains.

So, yeah, this whole thing had its moments.

But, damn, I could do without the hunger. I had a bit of a stash at home right now—enough to get me through at least a week, I hoped. And if I was out of work for longer than that, then what? How long could I go without brains? Not two weeks, that was for sure. I’d already figured out that the more active I was, the faster I got hungry—which made sense in a way. But how much of my stash would I go through to get me back to normal?

A deputy crouched beside me, and I stiffened automatically when I saw that it was Marcus Ivanov. For a stupid instant I wondered if the guy was stalking me, then instantly dismissed the thought as completely retarded. I hadn’t even seen him since that day we’d all gone to breakfast. St. Edwards Parish wasn’t very big, which meant there weren’t that many road deputies. It made sense that I’d see him more than every now and then.

He gave me a tight smile that didn’t come anywhere near his eyes. “Angel, I need you to tell me as much as you can remember about the accident.”

I let out a breath and forced myself to chill. I was the victim this time. So what if I felt like I was going into an interrogation? “Sure, though there’s not much to tell,” I said. “I was driving. I came around the curve and saw a tree in the road. I hit it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you see anyone?”

I hesitated. “I thought the tree was a person at first. Then I realized it was only a branch sticking up. Why?”

He pursed his lips briefly and looked back toward the tree that was still partially in the road. “It looked like someone deliberately dragged that tree onto the highway. There are footprints and scuff marks.” He paused and returned his gaze to me. “And dirt on the van door.”

My pulse thudded as my mind raced. I hadn’t said anything to anyone about the zombie trying to get the body bag, for obvious reasons. But if there was physical evidence that someone had caused the accident, would they get suspicious if I didn’t say anything?

“That’s fucked up,” I finally managed. “I’m pretty positive that tree wasn’t in the road when I was going the other way. I figured it fell or something.” I shook my head, and I didn’t have to fake the wince the motion caused. “Sorry. I was kinda rattled there right after it happened, y’know? Maybe the dirt was from someone checking to see if I was okay.” I gave a helpless shrug. “I dunno. It had to be random, right? I mean, why would anyone want me to crash?” I made myself laugh. “Unless they wanted to steal the body so they could make a monster.”

His expression grew tighter, if that was even possible. “It was probably some punks being stupid,” he said. Then he took a deep breath as if forcing himself calm. “I know you’re shaken now, but if you remember anything later on, that’ll help us find out who did this.”

“Fuckers,” Ed muttered as he jotted notes on his pad. “You could have been killed.”

“The whole situation is fucked,” Ivanov said. My stomach knotted at the vehemence in his voice. I thought he was angry at the idea that someone else had done this, but the paranoid side of me wasn’t sure if maybe part of it was directed at me. He knew me, knew my whole sordid history. Surely he thought I was somehow at fault. How could he not?

I looked away and blinked quickly at the flashing lights of the ambulance as stupid tears filled my eyes. Crap. Here I was getting all weepy because this deputy might think I was even more of an irresponsible piece of shit than I was. God, I was pathetic.

Tags: Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net