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“Can we please do the twenty questions bullshit another time?” he said with a cocky sneer. “I need to get back to my job.”
Even though I knew I had a million more questions for him, I couldn’t put anything into words at that moment. I released the stretcher and stepped aside. He was out the door in the next instant, while my thoughts tumbled in an uncoordinated, frustrated loop.
Chapter 15
As annoyed as I was at Kang and his no-more-info-for-you bullshit, the entire incident had clued me in to several hugely important facts. I was a zombie. I wasn’t crazy—or rather, not any more than I already was. There were other zombies around. And someone made me a zombie on purpose.
Which means I don’t need Kang, I thought smugly as I finished cleaning up the morgue and getting everything set out for the next shift. I can find me another zombie who’ll tell me what the hell is going on. Pompous jerk. Screw Kang. I didn’t need his help.
But that brought up the big question: How the hell could I tell if someone was a zombie? I didn’t know Kang was one until he told me. I’d known that Zeke was, but only because it was pretty damn obvious. In other words, probably the only way I’d be able to tell would be if someone was low on brains and starting to smell.
Great, so I simply needed to go around and sniff people to find the ones who smelled like rot and death. Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all.
There had to be other ways I could find out more about what I was facing, now that I knew for sure what I was. Hell, there were a zillion movies about zombies. Maybe there were some seeds of truth in all of that.
As soon as I was finished at the morgue I called Randy.
“Hey, you busy?” I asked after he picked up.
“Nah. Gotta take apart a fuel system later on, but that’s about it. Why?”
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do a movie marathon. I’ll bring the movies.”
“Sure thing, babe. Sounds like fun. You’ll need to get some beer too. I’m almost out.”
“No problem,” I said, trying to keep the grimace out of my voice. Look at me, being all cheap because I didn’t want to buy beer that I wouldn’t drink. It was different with my dad. That was a survival tactic. But the DVD player at home had been busted for ages, and I couldn’t see spending the bucks on a new one since Randy had the latest technology. Besides, he had the big screen. “Be there in about half an hour.”
“Clive’s here too,” he said. “So’s you know.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure. Okay.” I found myself hesitating. Clive was who I usually got pills from. Or rather, who I used to get pills from. He and Randy went way back, and the three of us had hung out at Randy’s place before, though I’d never in a million years say that I was friends with Clive. It wasn’t that I disliked him or anything. It was just that . . . he was Clive. I bought drugs from him. I wasn’t gonna be best buds with him or anything.
I headed for the movie rental store and grabbed about half a dozen DVDs. There was probably no way we’d be able to watch them all in one night, but I wanted to have some variety to work with. A quick trip to the SpeedE Mart near Randy’s house for the beer and some too-greasy fried chicken, and I was ready to go.
Clive was on the couch with his feet on the coffee table and a rifle in his lap when I came in to the trailer. He wasn’t much taller than me, but he probably outweighed me by about a hundred pounds—and none of that was fat. He spent several hours a day in the gym, and it was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that Clive was as serious about his steroids as he was about his workouts.
He looked over his shoulder and gave me a slight nod. “Yo. Angel. S’up?”
“Hey, Clive. How’s it goin’?” I said. I dropped the DVDs onto the table, then pushed aside some engine parts to make room for the beer. “What’s with the gun?”
“Deer season starts this weekend.” He accompanied this statement with a withering look as if to say I was less of a person for not knowing this. “Finishing cleaning up my baby here,” he said, giving the gun a caress.
I gave him my best eye roll in response. “Whatever.”
“These are all zombie movies,” Randy said, looking up from the pile of DVDs with a puzzled look on his face. “What’s up with that?”
I shrugged and passed him a beer. “Thought it would be fun, y’know?”
“Zombies are cool,” Clive announced from the couch. I looked at him, waiting for further commentary, but apparently that was the extent of Clive’s opinion on the matter.
Randy made a hmmf noise, then looked back at me. “Whadja do to your head?”
I reached up and felt the Band-Aid. “Oh. I was in a wreck the other night in the coroner van. I only had a cut. Didn’t even need stitches. It’s no big deal.”
He frowned, but Clive suddenly twisted to look at me. “That was you?” Clive asked. “I heard someone totaled the CO van.”
I threw up my hands. “Jesus, is there anyone who hasn’t heard about this?”
Clive shrugged. “Well, I heard about it at the gym from Emily—the receptionist, who heard about it from her sister, Edith, who’s dating Keith, who drove the wrecker that picked the van up. So, no, I think everyone’s heard about it by now.” Then he grinned and nodded toward Randy. “Except for him. He needs to get out more.”
