At first I thought he meant a deer hunter, and it took me a couple of seconds of mental floundering to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Hell, I was a redneck. Of course I’d think of deer hunting first. “You mean Ed?” I asked, just in case.
“Yes. The zombie hunter.” He shifted, crossed one leg over the other. “I confess I was less than thrilled when Marcus told me he’d created a zombie. There are sustainability issues, you understand.”
I knew I looked perplexed. “You make it sound like he put me together in his garage,” I said. “And no, I don’t understand. What are, um, sustainability issues?” Hell, they already knew I was uneducated. What, I was going to lower their opinion of me?
“I’m referring to how to keep our population fed without resorting to means that would draw attention to us.”
“Oh, you mean how to get enough brains,” I said. Why the hell couldn’t he have said that?
Pietro tipped his head in a nod. “Precisely. You are a new zombie, which means that your need is somewhat higher. You probably consume, what, a full brain a week? Perhaps a bit more?”
“Yeah, sounds about right,” I said. Hey, look at that, something resembling some answers. “You saying I won’t always stay this hungry? How long does that last?”
“About a year. It will gradually taper off a bit to where, with normal exertion, you’ll be able to make a brain last about a week and a half. But, this still means that the average zombie needs about forty brains a year.” He gave me a sardonic smile. “I’m sure you can see why our population needs to be strictly controlled.” He met my eyes, and I had zero doubt that he would have preferred that my population had been controlled, perhaps even before I’d been made a zombie.
Well, fuck him and fuck this whole thing. I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now,” I said with a tight smile. “And I guess you’re all right with Ed taking a bunch of y’all out?”
He frowned. “We don’t kill our own. There are plenty of others willing to do that for us—and Ed is a perfect example.”
Marcus cleared his throat softly. “Angel, Ed’s not the only zombie hunter out there.”
Pietro waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. There are ways to deal with these hunters.”
“Is that who you think stole the body?” I asked. “Zombie hunters?”
Pietro’s eyebrows drew down in a frown. “What body?”
“Angel was held up at gunpoint last night,” Marcus quickly explained. “They took the body of a man who was killed in a fall out at the lab where Sofia works.”
Pietro pursed his lips. “Very mysterious. But unless the victim was a zombie, I can’t see why you’d think hunters would be involved.”
I silently bristled at both his “you silly idiot” tone and the fact that, apparently, Marcus hadn’t talked to Pietro about the body. So why was it so goddamn important that we come see his uncle so soon? I cast my mind back over our conversations. As far as I could remember he’d definitely given the impression that the body theft was the big reason why we needed to see him.
Or maybe I was reading more into it. Maybe Marcus was more worried about Ed. I knew I was stressed and on edge, so it was more than possible that I was being overly sensitive.
“I couldn’t smell his brains,” I said. “I was hungry, and he had a significant skull fracture.”
Pietro’s mouth curved into a slight frown. “And so you automatically assume he was a zombie? I know the procedures for this sort of thing…didn’t the paramedics run an EKG strip on him?”
“Well, yes but—”
“With only a skull fracture he would still have heartbeat, though very slow,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking the trace of patronizing sneer in his voice.
I shot a look at Marcus, but he remained silent, a pained look on his face. He met my eyes and gave a slight shrug that was clearly meant to convey “I told you so.”
Anger and betrayal swept through me, and I had to bite the side of my tongue hard to hold back the urge to either cry or shout a bunch of curse words. “Right. Then I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I managed.
Pietro said nothing, but the look in his eyes echoed my sentiment. Marcus cleared his throat. “Angel, you’re one of us now. That’s why you’re here. We’re mostly worried about Ed and whoever else he might be working with.”
I took a deep breath to get my ragged emotions under control. “What about the other zombies in the area? Have you warned them about Ed?”
Pietro nodded. “The ones who are in our circle know.”
“Your circle?” I echoed, frowning. “What does that mean? Are there others?”
Marcus reached and patted my leg. “He means we’ve contacted everyone we know for certain are zombies.” He gave me a reassuring smile, but an uneasy knot remained in my gut.
But I also knew that I’d be wasting my time and breath if I started asking more questions. “Gotcha,” I said instead and did my best to smile.
“Very well,” Pietro said, standing. “Then we should rejoin the party.” He looked my way as I scrambled to my feet. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”
I shook my head. He didn’t really want to discuss shit with me.
“Very good.” He beckoned to the door, and I made my escape.
We didn’t stay much longer. Marcus’s parents had already left by the time we came out of the meeting, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone else who wanted to pin me down and ask me about my education and career goals. My goal right now was to stay alive, to survive. Pietro pulled Marcus aside at one point, and I escaped to the bathroom, lingering in there long enough, hopefully, to avoid having to talk to too many people, but not so long that people would wonder if I was sick. Or, I realized later, doing drugs.
Unfortunately, as soon as I came out of the bathroom I damn near ran smack into Sofia in the hallway.
“Angel, I’m so glad I ran into you,” she said with an earnest look. “I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”
I fixed as polite a smile on my face as possible. I wasn’t going to make any sort of scene or be a bitch. At least that’s what I told myself.
“No, not at all!” I replied. Hell, I might have even gushed it. “Don’t be silly. It’s fine,” I insisted.
She shook her head. “No, I mean it. I spend most of my time in a lab which means my social skills sometimes leave a lot to be desired. And I realized that I probably…”
“Made me feel like an inadequate moron?” I finished.
She flushed. “God. Yes. I swear it wasn’t my intent.”
I wasn’t sure if she really was as remorseful or uncomfortable as she appeared to be, but I went ahead and took satisfaction in it anyway. “It’s cool. I know what I am.”
Sofia smiled uncertainly, clearly not sure how she should take that. “Oh. Okay, well, again, I’m sorry.”
I gave a stiff nod. “Sure. I’ll even accept it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Thing is, you’re right. I don’t have shit in the way of education. I had a crap family life, and there was no one to tell me to finish school and go on to college or any of that stuff. And there sure as hell wasn’t anyone to help pay for it. But it doesn’t matter. I’m working to improve myself, and I don’t need anyone telling me that I need to do it. Just me.” And my probation officer. But I didn’t plan on adding that little detail.
She blinked, silent for several seconds, then smiled in the first unguarded expression I’d seen on her. “Now I’m wondering if Marcus is good enough for you.”
“I think we’re more than good enough for each other,” I said.
She dug in her purse and fished out a business card. “Look, here’s my contact info. Maybe we can meet for coffee or something someday? Start over and get off on a better foot?”
Not in this lifetime, I thought, but I simply nodded and took the card. “Sure. I, uh, hang on.” I dug in my purse for a scrap of paper and scrawled my number on it, all the while wondering why the hell I was giving her my info. I really didn’t want to have happy girl-chat funtime over lattes, but it probably would’ve been insanely rude not to reciprocate.