Darker Days (The Darker Agency #1)(2)
Apparently, I should have.
Mom had a strict no student jobs rule, meaning I was forbidden to take side jobs from classmates. What I’d done hadn’t even been about the money. Well, it had a little, but it was also semi-personal. Another no-no in Mom’s book. I’d gotten detention four times last week for being three minutes late to class. Three minutes! Plus, I wasn’t a fan of cheaters. If you asked me, I should have gotten a handshake and an oversized chocolate cookie for what I’d done.
Not a soggy zombie.
Squatting down by the edge of the pool, I slipped my legs into the cool water, sending ripples across the surface. The zombie didn’t move. I held my breath and slipped the rest of the way in, fighting back a shiver.
Communication was an issue with zombies. They didn’t chat. Asking it nicely to step out of the water so I could set it on fire probably wasn’t going to fly. I’d have to drag it out. That meant touching it. My stomach convulsed and I fought back the remnants of the tuna bagel I’d eaten earlier.
I was a professional, dammit. I could do this without tossing my cookies—or my tuna.
I let my head slip beneath the water and dove to the bottom of the pool. Extending a hand, I poked the thing’s shoulder. Nothing. Gripping it under both arms, I pushed off the bottom and kicked hard for the surface. When my head broke the water, I nearly choked on the smell. The air stank like a month old dead chicken in the summer sun mixed with rotting road kill. Pungent and able to induce yakking with a single whiff. The tuna bagel tried to make a reappearance, but once again, I swallowed it back and made my way to the edge.
When I got there, I planted both feet on the top step and heaved the zombie from the water. It complied with no resistance, righting itself once we were on solid ground.
So far, so good.
Grabbing my bag from the picnic table, I pulled out a small vial of quartz powder mixed with salt. Fairy Dust, Mom dubbed it. Some girls I knew never left the house without makeup essentials—the hottest shade of lip gloss and a killer waterproof mascara. Not me. I was all about the tools of my trade.
Popping the cap on the quartz, I sprinkled some of the Dust at the feet of the zombie, then pulled the small container of lighter fluid from my back pocket, spritzing the thing down. Still no complaints.
Everything was going fine until I flicked the flint on my lighter. The zombie, previously a lump of stinky silence, let out an otherworldly howl.
“Oh my God!” the woman screamed, jumping back. “What the hell was that?”
I flicked the lighter again and a small flame burst to life “It’s fine. Sometimes they make noise. They’re harmless, though. It’ll be over in a sec.”
With another scream and an angry chomping of teeth, the zombie picked that moment to make a liar out of me. Before I could move out of the way, it lurched forward and knocked me back. Everything blurred for a second. There was a strange, weightless feeling, and then I hit the water.
When I surfaced, the woman was screaming, hopping from foot to foot on a lawn chair near the edge of the pool.
Really? A chair? What did she think that was going to do?
“Calm down,” I called, dragging myself from the water. I grabbed a handful of my long, brown hair and wrung out the chlorine water. “You’ll only make it—”
The zombie let out another cry and lunged forward a few feet toward the woman’s chair. As if the screaming wasn’t enough, she’d started waving one of her pink, bedazzled flip flops at the thing. With a hair-curling screech, she hurled the flip flop at her dearly departed husband’s head. It missed its mark and beaned me instead. “Lady, you’ve gotta stop—”
The zombie roared, pivoted, and charged.
“Crap,” I spat, sidestepping the lumbering carcass. Zombies might be awkward looking, but holy crap could those bastards move. I took off across the lawn, waddling just a little, because running in wet jeans? Sucks. Running in wet jeans with an uber fast walking pile of rot on your ass? Sucks even more.
I rounded the corner of the pool, slipping on the slick surface of the wet deck. As soon as I righted myself, I doubled back and jumped just as the zombie’s arm crashed down where my leg had been. “What is your damage, Stinky!”
The thing skidded to a stop and turned for another go. I scanned the yard. The lighter was in the grass on the other side of the pool. No way was I getting to it in time. I was fast—but the zombie was faster—and since this one seemed intent on munching my limbs, I wasn’t taking the chance. Mom always said the stories about turning into a zombie when bitten were totally false—we’d never even heard of anyone being bitten—but I wasn’t about to be the first.
“Light the grill!” I screamed from across the yard. The woman hesitated for a moment before stepping down from the chair and hobbling toward the large poolside BBQ in no particular hurry. I guessed she could afford to take her time since her ass wasn’t on the menu. She fumbled with the grill controls for several seconds, squealing once and lifting her right hand to examine her fingernails before finally stepping away.
As soon as the flame flickered to life, I sprinted forward. The zombie chomped at the air behind me and even managed to get a few strands of hair.
I sucked in a deep breath and tore across the lawn. Heart thundering and legs pumping, I vaulted onto the table and over the grill. The zombie followed. Unfortunately, I’d overdone the jump. Sailing over the grill—that was my plan. Crashing through the wooden fence and hitting the ground hard enough to knock a few teeth loose—not so much.