Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

Chapter 22

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted into the phone. “Get the fuck out of my house, you cocksucking asstard!”

“My god, you’re a foul-mouthed thing, aren’t you.”

“Yeah, well, get over it. So what the fuck is this?” I said. “Is this where you have my dad and offer to trade us or some equally lame bullshit? Are you working from Evil Plots for Dummies or some shit like that?”

“That’s pretty clever,” McKinney replied. “I may have to write that someday. But yes, I have your father, and I’m willing to make a trade, him for you. Very simple: you cooperate or your dad dies.”

I felt my mouth twist into something not quite a smile. “Uh huh. First off, I don’t believe you really have my dad. Second off, go fuck yourself.”

To my surprise he chuckled. “Ah. You require proof. Fair enough.”

I heard some rustling, then, “Angelkins?”

“Oh my god, Dad,” I groaned. “What are you doing at home?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I live here, remember?”

“But it’s football night! Why aren’t you down at Kaster’s?”

“Because it’s a goddamn bar!” he shouted back. “And I’m trying to not go to bars any more, ’cause when I go to bars I drink, and I’m trying not to drink any more ’cause it’s pretty much the only way to get sober, goddammit!”

“Oh,” I said in a small voice. “Okay. That makes sense.”

I heard him take a shuddering breath. “What’s going on, baby?” he said in a somewhat more normal tone of voice. “Are you in some kind of trouble with these people? You can tell me, honey. I’ll love you no matter what.”

My chest squeezed so tight I wasn’t sure I could even breathe. “Daddy, it’s okay. I’m not in trouble. I mean, not like drugs or shit like that. This asstard wants some information I have. This’ll all be over real soon.”

“Okay, baby. I trust you. You do what you gotta do, y’hear?”

“Oh, I will, Dad,” I replied fervently. Damn straight I would.

More rustling, and then McKinney came back on the phone. “Enough jibber jabber. Here’s what you’re going to do.”

“Did you just say ‘jibber jabber’?” I asked. “Seriously? What bad guy says ‘jibber jabber’?”

He sighed. “You’re going to be a complete pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

“You started this.”

“So I did. Fine. You’re going to go to the East St. Edwards High School football field and stand in the middle of the fifty yard line. You know where that is?”

“I know it.” Did I ever.

“As soon as you are there—alone—I’ll release your dad, let you two wave to each other in passing, and then he will walk out the gate by the north end zone, where he can get into a car driven by your sidekick—”

“My sidekick?” I gave Ed a sidelong look.

“Yes, the knight in shining armor who rescued you from my dastardly clutches.”

“Dude, you read way too many romance novels. Fine. You let my dad go, my sidekick wonder boy takes my dad far away from cockwaffles like you, and then…what, I keep standing in the damn field?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Out in the open. And alone. I’ll give you half an hour to get your pieces in position.” The line went dead.

I hung the phone up. “Could you hear all that?” I asked Ed.

“I got the gist,” he said, voice quiet.

“So now what do I do?”

Ed was silent for a moment. I could almost see the thoughts ticking behind his eyes. “Your dad said, ‘these people,’ which tells me that McKinney probably isn’t working alone anymore. I’m betting that he’ll have a sniper in place who’ll simply shoot you until you can’t fight back, and then they’ll grab you.”

I nodded agreement. “And the stuff with my dad is to get you out of the way and make sure that you aren’t set up to snipe his ass.”

“Sounds about right,” he said, grimacing.

“Why the hell does he want me?” I growled.

“Easy target? War between the zombies? Hostage?” he offered, shrugging. “Or perhaps it’s something completely unrelated to this power struggle between the factions, and these people somehow found out that you’re a zombie, and they need a zombie for some other nefarious purpose, ergo they’re after you.”

“Sofia knew I was a zombie,” I said, grimacing.

“She was definitely involved in all of this somehow.” He took a deep breath. “All right then, whatever the reason, somehow we need to figure out a way to make it where being shot won’t be so, um, debilitating for you.”

“I could wear your body armor,” I suggested.

He stepped back and sized me up. “We could try,” he said, but he sounded awfully doubtful.

“What’s the problem?”

“Well, you’re awfully skinny, and I can’t exactly put a couple of tucks in a Kevlar vest in order to make it fit you.” He shook his head. “I think it’ll be really obvious that you’re wearing it, which will only encourage a decent shooter to go for places that aren’t covered by the vest.”

“Well, that sucks,” I muttered.

Ed’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I have an idea that might help…but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“Lay it on me,” I said. “It’s not like I’m brimming with brilliance right now.”

I listened as he laid it out for me. He was right. I didn’t like it. I kinda fucking hated it.

But it was brilliant enough that I also loved it.