My Life as a White Trash Zombie

Chapter 35

I’ve never been anything remotely resembling “athletic.” I’m pretty sure the very few times in my life when I actually made myself run were only after much threatening from gym teachers—back when I still went to school and suffered such fates.

But if running had ever felt like this I don’t think I’d have ever stopped. I raced down the road like the mutant lovechild of a gazelle and a cheetah—far faster than I’d have been able to drive it, thanks to that second bottle of brains. Now I figured I had maybe ten more minutes at the pace I was going before I crashed and started to rot.

Luckily it was only about a minute later that I reached the large clearing at the end of the road. A couple of hundred yards away Marcus and Ed were busy loading gear onto two four-wheelers. Saving the day with brains to spare! I thought in euphoric glee.

They turned in unison at the sound of my running footsteps. Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise. “Angel! What on earth are you doing here?”

Ed looked surprised as well, but his expression quickly turned wary and for good reason. I was still running all out and had no intention of stopping until I’d knocked Ed on his ass. “Marcus!” I yelled as I charged toward them. “I know you’re a zombie and you made me! Ed does too and he’s—”

A loud bang slammed through the clearing, cutting off my words as I went crashing to the ground in an awkward flailing sprawl. Pain jabbed hard and deep, and I gasped raggedly as I struggled to get back to my feet. For some reason I couldn’t get a deep breath. The clearing swam around me as I scrabbled upright. I needed to warn Marcus and stop Ed. I needed to breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?

I heard a second bang and something hit me hard in the chest. There was a sense of pain but it felt strangely removed. I coughed and blood bubbled out of my mouth, copper-metallic taste fading almost as soon as it hit my tongue.

Oh. That’s why I can’t breathe. I could only stare at the pistol in Ed’s hand as I sagged first to my knees, then onto my side on the ground. Color and sensation faded with the speed of a whirlwind. I made one more try to get enough breath to yell a warning to Marcus, but it wasn’t happening.

Marcus wasn’t stupid. The simple fact that Ed had shot me was warning enough. He lunged for the rifle on the four-wheeler with amazing speed, especially considering he had to be wondering what the fuck was going on.

But Ed already had his gun in his hand. I could see indecision sweep across his face, but in the next instant it was gone, replaced by rabid determination. He swung his arm around as Marcus’s hand closed on the rifle. Another shot slammed through the clearing, and for a split-second I thought Marcus had won and gotten his shot off first.

Then he crumpled to the ground with a hole in his forehead while Ed slowly lowered his gun.

I wanted to scream in horror, but I still couldn’t make much sound—just a couple of gurgles of blood, and not too much of that, either. I couldn’t feel my heart beating at all anymore. I was pretty far into being dead at this point. Those extra nine minutes worth of brains had been chewed through in seconds.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Marcus’s still form. Had I been wrong about him being a zombie? And, if he was, could a bullet to the head kill him? He wasn’t moving at all.

Ed let out a shaky breath. “God damn it.” Pain flashed over his face. “Damn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

I wanted to scream in rage. Oh, gee, sorry I fucked up your intentions of killing him all nice and neatly.

He shifted his gaze to where I was lying then wiped a trembling hand over his face. “I know you’re not really dead. I only slowed you down.” A shudder crawled over him. “Ah, god . . . I liked you,” he said, voice rough. “You seemed so normal. Why’d you have to turn out to be a goddamn monster!” He let out an inarticulate scream of rage that seemed to be directed more at the heavens than at me, then he sagged and swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “Fucking zombies,” he muttered. “You motherfuckers take everything, don’t you. If I love it, you fucking take it.” He took a ragged breath and seemed to focus on me again. “Angel died in that wreck. I know you think you’re Angel, but she died.”

I shook my head, fear and anger battling it out inside me. “No,” I managed to rasp out. “You’re wrong. I’m Angel.”

Ed’s mouth trembled for a brief second. “No. You’re a monster. The worst kind of monster, because you make people think you’re alive. Then you go and bash their head in with a fucking anchor and—” He spun away abruptly as his words roiled within me.

Ah, shit. Boating accident, my ass.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Ed said in a hoarse whisper. He swiped at his face again, and I realized he was crying—which only pissed me off more. He was going to be all weepy and emo because he’d shot me and his best friend? Fuck him!

“I’d wondered about Marcus,” Ed went on, voice still hoarse. “Marianne’s dog acted a bit funny around him at first, but then he kept playing with the dog. Told myself it wasn’t possible.” He flicked a glance my way. “Then Kudzu indicated on you. I didn’t believe it then either.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “I was an idiot. All this time your bodies have been desecrated. Animated by this monstrous shit.”

“I’m not a monster, you stupid fuck!” I tried to yell, but it came out as mostly rasps and gurgles, and I had no idea if any of it was understandable.

But even if it was, Ed ignored it. He was too caught up in his self-righteous pity-party. “Now I’ll give you both the mercy of a true death,” he said, squaring his shoulders He slowly holstered his gun, then—almost reluctantly—looked over to where Marcus lay sprawled on his back on the ground. He was silent for several seconds, then shook his head. “I’ll finish you off quickly,” Ed said to the possibly dead Marcus. “I owe you that much.”

He turned away and began to dig through the gear on the four wheeler. He wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. I figured he was going to let me crawl around and moan a bit before he gave me his “mercy.”

Yeah, well, I had no desire to roll over and give up yet. Part of me felt sorry for him, but the rest of me was simply pissed off. I knew I had it in me to get back on my feet and move toward Ed. It would take a lot more than two bullets in the chest to keep me down. When he shot me, I’d collapsed from the shock as my body took a hard nosedive into being a helluva lot more dead than usual, but that had pretty well worn off by now. My chest was a mess, but it didn’t hurt. I still couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t need to. Whatever made me a zombie was taking care of all that shit. I’d be slow, though, and pretty damn uncoordinated. I was definitely a mess. Ed would have no trouble hacking my head off.

Good thing I had an ace up my sleeve. Or rather, something much better than an ace. Two of ‘em, in fact.

I shifted slightly—not enough to draw his attention, just to where I could pull one of the plastic bags out of the side pocket of my cargo pants. The contents were still pretty frozen, and swallowing the chunks of icy brains down began to hurt like shit after the first few gulps, but that faded quickly beneath the blissful feel of my chest knitting itself back together. I finished that one and let the empty bag drop, then pulled the second bag out and ripped it open.

I clambered to my feet, still shoving frozen brains into my mouth as fast as I could swallow them down. Oh, yeah, this was the good shit. I was whole again. Better than whole.

Ed saw me stand out of the corner of his eye and spun, machete in his right hand. He raked a narrowed-eyed gaze over me. I wasn’t sure if he could see that I’d healed up. The front of my shirt was still covered in blood, and it wasn’t as if bullets really left big gaping craters in flesh like in the movies.

“So you’re still strong enough to stand.” Ed said, answering my question. His hand tightened on the machete. “You fuckers don’t like to stay down, do you?” His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile, but there were still tears in his eyes. “But once I take your head off and burn the skull, then it’ll all be over.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, then crammed the last piece of frozen brain into my mouth and let the plastic bag drop to the ground. Ed looked puzzled for only a couple of seconds before comprehension flashed across his face. He took a step toward Marcus, raising the machete up high in his left hand while pulling his gun out with his right.

“This has to be done,” Ed said through clenched teeth. “I know you don’t believe it, but you’re a monster.”

“Nah, not buying it,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’m still Angel. I’ve never killed anyone. Yeah, what happened to your dad was horrible, but we all make choices. Right now you’re the monster.”

Agony swept across his face as I ruthlessly shoved down the surge of pity that rose in me. “You can’t stop me,” he said, doing his best to curl his lip into a proud sneer. “I’ll finish him, then finish you.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. Then I couldn’t resist. I took a deep breath and yelled: “Zombie Super Powers, Activate!”

Then I moved.