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Fish tanks ran the length of my kitchen counters. The call of seagulls and the crash-hiss of gentle surf drifted in through the window. Nice and peaceful. I hummed as I moved from tank to tank feeding hungry fish. French fries for the blue ones. Popcorn for the big red ones. Brussel sprouts for the yellow fishies that looked like my dad. Brain chunks for Judd’s head floating in a tank all by itself.
I jerked awake, breathing hard. An expanse of beach spread before me, complete with gorgeous sunset, rolling waves, and palm trees. No fish tanks. No Judd.
A dream. Just a stupid, horrible dream. My breathing settled, but confusion rose as I looked around. I was propped in a cushy bed in a windowless room. The screen for an ambiance immersion system took up the entire wall in front of me, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the others.
It had to be one of Dr. Nikas’s rooms, but that made no sense. I wiggled my fingers then tried to lift my hand, but my arm was stiff, wrapped in gauze. A nameless horror crept through me. I’m supposed to be dead. Wasn’t I? Why couldn’t I remember?
I struggled to sit up without success. I heard a knock on the door, then Dr. Nikas stepped into the room. “Angel?”
I sagged in relief. “What happened? I’m . . . alive.”
“Indeed you are.” A genuine smile lit his face. “Don’t try to move. Tomorrow, perhaps.” He pulled bandages aside and injected something near my collar bone. I expected a poke or sting, but felt only a brief wave of warmth. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like I could sleep for a year.”
His eyes crinkled. “Do you know my name?”
“Dr. Nikas? Ariston Nikas.” The whisper of relief in his eyes made me suspect there’d been a time when I hadn’t known it. Prickly warmth spread up my neck and down through my torso, and hazy memory woke like a fire stirred to life. “Wait. I was in Kang’s tank.” Dread swept through me. “Was I just a head? How long has it been? Did I . . . regrow?”
“The medicine I just gave you will help your memory.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “It’s only Friday. Three days since Mardi Gras.”
Mardi Gras. The sickening feel of my arm ripping off shuddered through my mind. “I was in pieces. Lots of pieces.”
“We recovered your head and most of your torso. The V12 prevented normal regeneration. But you did indeed regrow.” He paused. “With assistance.”
“Slug snot.” I nodded slowly. “I remember warm slug snot. And electricity.”
“Modifications to incorporate a variation of the African salve Allen Prejean told you about. Without it, your regrowth would have taken months as opposed to mere days.”
The door eased open. Marla padded in, tail wagging, and sat beside Dr. Nikas. The sight of her triggered a flood of memories. “Rosario! What happened to him? Did you get him?”
“He’s locked down and sedated. Post surgery from broken ribs.” He reached to scratch the dog’s ears. “Marla follows me around when she isn’t lying beside his bed.”
And Dr. Nikas didn’t mind one bit, if the mushy smile he gave Marla was any indication. A yawn snuck up on me, and I fought to keep my eyes open. “Rosario was going to whistle-blow on Saberton. Expose us right along with them.”
He squeezed my hand. “You stopped him, Angel. Well done.”
“Almost didn’t.” I grimaced. “The plan went tits up when Rosario took out Bear. What tipped him off?”
“Rosario noted your stop at the Bear’s Den and the subsequent loss of your GPS tracking signal. When Bear approached him at the festival, he smelled a trap but played along. After he crated Marla, he retrieved the Taser from his vehicle and hid it in his jacket. On the way to the VIP tent, h
e took Bear down when they passed behind the refrigerated trucks.”
“Rosario should have seized the chance to get away clean, but he came after me instead.” Anger boiled through me. “Because of Kristi. That manipulative—”
Dr. Nikas cut off my building tirade. “You need sleep.” He drew another syringe from his pocket. It didn’t have a needle and was filled with what looked like white gravy.
“Isn’t that for use with a zombie mod port?”
“You’ve had one on your wish list, haven’t you?” He smiled as he pulled the gauze under my collarbone down again, twisted the syringe and injected the drug. “This is a sedative, but your port’s primary use is for auto-dosing V13, your non-addictive, non-damaging V12 replacement.”
“That’s so cool.” My words were already slurring. “But more questions. Nick?”
Dr. Nikas looked pained. “Answers will be clearer after you rest. Sleep, Angel.”
Since I was almost there already, I did.
