White Trash Zombie Apocalypse

A sick jolt went through me. “Oh my god,” I breathed. “I totally forgot about that.”



Derrel cringed. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I guess you weren’t able to make it.” Then he flashed a smile. “But I know you’d have aced it.”



“Yeah,” I said, my throat constricting. The goddamn GED. All this time studying, and then I missed the test. One more thing the flood took away from me. “I guess so.”



Behind Derrel, the front door opened and Nick came through. His eyes went straight to me, and then he walked right past Derrel and gathered me into a hug.



“I’m so so sorry,” he murmured with such utter compassion and genuine sympathy that I did the only thing possible.



I fucking burst into tears. And then I couldn’t stop. Nick held me and gently rubbed my back while I lost it on his shoulder. All this time I’d managed to be tough and strong and stoic and all full of positive thinking, and Nick’s damn hug completely undid me.



“I was so worried,” Nick said, still hugging me. And damn it, it wasn’t creepy or grabby or anything. Simply supportive and comforting. “I just got back from…your place.”



I sniffled. “You mean my empty lot? It’s gone. All gone.” Behind him I saw Derrel standing there with an increasingly perplexed expression.



“I know. I saw.” He gently released me and pulled back to look into my face.



“Wait, Angel,” Derrel said, shock and disbelief heavy in his voice. “Your house? You lost your house? Oh my god. I didn’t know. I thought you only had a foot of water or so.” He shook his head. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.”



I wiped at my eyes and nodded. “Lost the whole damn thing. We had to climb onto the roof.” I tried to smile. “But we got a helicopter ride out of it, so that was cool, y’know.”



“Ah hell,” he said, then moved up to smash me against his chest in his own massive hug.



I made an oof sound. “Can’t…breathe,” I gasped dramatically. Derrel released me with a gruff snort and shaky smile.



“Is your dad all right?” Nick asked, expression serious.



“He’s okay. Small bump on the head but nothing bad,” I told them.



“What do you need?” he asked. “What can we do?”



I took a deep breath. “I’m not even sure where to begin. I guess I need a copy of my ID from my personnel file so I can get a new phone and debit card and, hell, new ID though that’ll have to wait ’til Monday. And I need to go to my storage unit, and—”



Derrel held up a hand, stopping my babble. “You need a ride?”



“I’d love one,” I replied, relieved.



“I may be slow on the uptake,” Derrel said, “but I can at least play chauffeur.”



Nick looked as if he wished he’d thought to offer a ride first, but he managed an encouraging smile anyway. “Angel, when you get your new phone, be sure to call and let me know what you need.”



“I will,” I said, moving to him and giving him a hug. “Thanks.”



He gave a little shrug. “No biggie,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and utterly failing. He headed to the investigator’s office without another word. Derrel watched him go, slight frown puckering his wide forehead, then turned back to me.



“At your service, darlin’,” he said with a slight bow.



I smacked him on the upper arm. “Don’t make me start quoting Driving Miss Daisy.”



He chuckled. “Y’know, if I squint you look a bit like Jessica Tandy.”



“Oh my god.” I laughed. “Shut up and help me break into the personnel files.”



Chapter 22



Once again I found myself grateful that I lived in a small town. I expected to have to go through all sorts of hassle to get a replacement phone, since the DMV was closed and my only photo ID was a photocopy of my actual driver’s license. But the guy at the phone store remembered me from when I’d been in a few weeks before, and I scored new phones for my dad and me with practically zero hassle. Unfortunately the brand new phone had barely any charge and, since I actually wanted to use my phone, I ended up buying a car charger as well so that I could give it some quick juice in Derrel’s Durango.



The bank people were less accommodating and weren’t keen to give me a new debit card without something vaguely official. However, they cheerfully accepted my dad’s cash for deposit, though I remembered to hold back a couple hundred. Until I had an ID, I wouldn’t be able to withdraw once it was officially deposited.



The storage unit was my last stop. I worried that Derrel would want to come in with me to help get stuff, which would have been awkward as hell since, well, y’know, freezer full of brains. I assured him I wasn’t planning on taking anything out since I didn’t have any place to put it, so there was nothing to lift or carry, and told him all I wanted to do was look for a scrapbook I thought I’d stored a couple of months ago. I spun a line about how it would ease my mind to know that something personal had survived the flood and, luckily, he bought my lie and waited in the car while I went inside. Of course then I got stupidly bummed out because there wasn’t a damn thing in my storage unit but a goddamn freezer full of brains and some pork ribs, which meant that yeah, everything we’d owned really was gone.



Still have brains at least, I told myself. Could be a helluva lot worse.



I stuffed three bags of frozen brains into each of my side pockets, then instantly regretted the fact that I now had only the thin fabric of my cargo pants between me and frozen brains. Yeah, totally comfortable.



I returned to the Durango, gave Derrel a big smile. “It was there!” I lied.



“Awesome!” he said with a wide grin. Grief of loss swept through me again. Goddammit, but the next time I got some memorabilia I was going to make sure it was stored someplace safe.



“Can you spare me a few more minutes?” I asked as I unplugged the phone from the car charger. “I need to make a phone call now that I have a bit of charge.”



“Take your time,” Derrel said in his easygoing manner. I gave him a smile and walked a few steps away from the Durango.



I dialed Pietro’s number, once again glad that it was so close to my ex-boyfriend’s number and therefore easy to remember.



He picked up on the second ring. “Angel. I’ve been waiting to hear from you. How are you? I’ve been very concerned. I only recently found out that Marcus didn’t pick you up from the shelter yesterday.”



“Hey, Pietro,” I said. “I’ve sure as hell been better. It’s cool about Marcus. I saw the paper this morning.” I shifted the phone to the other ear. “I can’t thank you enough for sending the helicopter. I don’t think my dad woulda made it if not for that.”



“I was more than happy to help,” he replied. “But I’m so very sorry you lost so much.”



“Thanks,” I said, then blew out my breath. “About Marcus. Brian told me not to say anything to anyone about the highway fight because of security. Does that include Marcus? We have enough crap between us without keeping something like that from him.”



After only a second of hesitation, Pietro replied, “That situation is settling. Use your discretion and share what you feel you need to.”



“Okay. Great,” I said, more relief than I expected washing through me. “Look, I also called to tell you I saw Philip last night. Twice.”



He fell quiet for a few seconds. I heard a click, and I had the strongest impression that he’d done something to record the call. “What happened?” he finally asked.



I told him about following Philip and what I found in the box under the steps, and about seeing him with Dr. Charish and how she gave him the paper bag with the packets of brains. Then I told him about how Philip came to find me and how I gave him my last bottle of brains.



“I don’t know why I helped him,” I confessed to Pietro. I wasn’t quite ready to share my zombie-parent-compassion theory. “I mean, he’s been nothing but a complete tool to me, but…god, he was so obviously hurting.”



“Angel, you have no idea how thankful I am that you helped him,” he said.



I blinked. “Um. You are?” I asked, baffled. “I don’t understand. Isn’t he working for Saberton?”



“Yes,” he said. “But as an operative for me.”



“Whoa,” I breathed. I fell silent for a few seconds while I wrapped my head around that. “Wait,” I said, anger flaring. “He was working for you this whole time? Even when he attacked me? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”



I heard him exhale. “Angel, I understand how you feel,” he replied. “There was so much at stake. Is so much at stake. Everything has been on a need-to-know basis in order to protect Philip and his assignment. If the Saberton men with him ever witnessed anything from you other than your genuine reaction to him as one of them, he would be compromised…and so would you. However, as he is due to be extracted tomorrow, there’s little harm in you knowing now.”



“Oh.” I scowled. I hated the answer, but I also understood it. Damn it. “Well, he’s in really bad shape,” I told him, then narrowed my eyes as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and I didn’t like the picture that was forming. “Hang on,” I said. “That drop he made…” Son of a bitch. If Philip was an operative for Pietro, that had to mean the stuff he left in the box under the steps was meant for Pietro’s people. There wouldn’t have been any reason for him to be skulking around to pass something to Saberton since he was openly working with them. And good ole Dr. Charish had been there waiting for the stuff…



A brand new anger flared. “Is Charish still working for you?” I walked a little farther away from the Durango. I had a feeling I was going to be raising my voice real soon.



He drew a deep breath and released it, and when he spoke his voice sounded heavy and tired. “I reacquired her a few days after she fled the factory lab incident with you,” he told me. “She is contained and works under Ariston’s supervision.” He paused. “He needs her.”