His eyes lifted to mine. “That’s good, Angelkins. Everything’s gonna be just fine. You and me.”
“Damn straight,” I said. “We’re too mean to keep down for long.”
“When you coming back?”
“I’ll probably be a few hours, I figure,” I told him. “Hope to be back by noon or so, though.” My brow furrowed. “You gonna be okay? I heard someone say they’re getting a TV in here to show movies.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” he said with a scowl. “You go do whatever you gotta do.”
I scowled right back at him, but I couldn’t help but be perversely glad that his orneriness was returning.
It didn’t take long to find a volunteer who was more than happy to give me a ride to the Coroner’s Office. Once there, she even gave me her number so that I could call when I needed a ride back.
It took me a few seconds and several brain cells to figure out why the front door of the office was locked, then I remembered it was a Saturday. Crap. Guess I won’t be going to the DMV today. Since my keycard was at the bottom of the swamp by now, I used the number pad of the lock to gain entry.
My footsteps echoed through the quiet halls as I continued through the main building and into the morgue. I planned on finding a way to get to my storage unit, but if there were any available brains to be had here, I’d be stupid to pass them up. With all the weirdness going on with Philip and Saberton, I wanted to be tanked.
But when I pulled the cooler door open, I stopped in my tracks and stared in shock. Body bags—had to be over a dozen of them. All three stretchers were full, as were the shelves along the walls.
The flood. Oh my god. These are people who died in the flood.
My dad could have easily ended up in one of those. If I hadn’t been able to call Pietro for a rescue, or if I hadn’t been home, there was no way he’d have made it out. Goosebumps skimmed over me, and I quickly backed out of the cooler and shut the door. My gaze went to the whiteboard on the wall by the cutting room. Three had already been autopsied. Dr. Leblanc had probably worked late last night.
So far the only brains I’d refused to consume were children and friends—like when Marianne, Ed’s girlfriend, had been murdered. I’d long ago lost my respect for the dead, at least that’s what I tried to tell myself. But I still winced with a razor-sharp stab of regret as I went back into the cooler, found the body of Bern, Alfred B/M 78 YO, and feasted on his brain.
* * *
After I tanked up on both brains and guilt, I fired up the morgue computer and tried to decipher the instructions for applying for disaster aid. After a frustrating half hour, I decided that, for the sake of my own sanity, I needed to get someone to help me out. Since the flood had affected relatively few people, its victims didn’t qualify for federal aid, which left only state agencies with their bizarre requirements and confusing instructions.
The search for a new trailer didn’t go any better. Or rather, I had no trouble finding all sorts of trailers and dealers online, but the prices for anything that wasn’t a roach-infested falling-down hovel were helluva lot more than I’d expected.
More than a little demoralized, I headed back into the main building.
“Angel?”
I looked up to see Derrel step out of the investigator’s office. He gave me a relieved smile. “Angel, so good to see you!”
I mustered a smile. “Hey, big guy.”
“I’m sorry your area flooded,” he said as he moved toward me, face clouded with concern. “It must really be a mess. I’ll be happy to come help with some cleanup on my next day off.” He tilted his head. “Hey, how’d the exam go?”
I blinked at him stupidly. Exam? Cleanup? What was there to clean up? “What exam?”
“The GED? Wasn’t that this morning?”
>Philip dropped his chin to his chest, shoulders shaking and breath coming as if weeping silently, though there were no tears.
“Damn it,” I muttered. Sighing, I slipped an arm around him and pulled his head to my shoulder. Stooooooopid parasite. It felt right, but what the hell was I doing?
To my surprise he seemed to ease, breathing becoming a bit more regular. “Shouldn’t be…here,” he murmured.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You said that already. Now shut up about it.”
He closed his eyes, tremors easing more. I realized I was stroking his hair, though I didn’t remember lifting my hand to do so.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment.
For which part? I wanted to ask. There’d certainly been a lot of bad shit. But he was calm now, and I didn’t want him upset and unstable again.