Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(48)

“And you think they were zombies?”

“For lack of a better word.”

“Notice anything significant about the window?”

My breathing was almost back to normal, and my voice had stopped shaking. I looked over at the broken window. “Blood,” I said. “The zombie got cut when he smashed the glass. Unusual for a zombie to bleed.”

“Unheard-of,” Diesel said.

I put the gun and the knife back where I found them. We left the double-wide and got into the car.

“What did you find in the tunnel?” I asked Diesel.

“It was more cave than tunnel. It looked like it originally might have been a root cellar. There was a burned-down cabin not far away. The cabin isn’t habitable, but someone’s recently used the cave.”

“The zombies.”

“Yeah, the zombies. They’ve been doing new digging. There was a decomposed head partially covered with dirt, and I think I saw what might be foot bones. I didn’t do a lot of exploring. Didn’t want to disturb the crime scene. You should call it in to Morelli. And tell him to have CSI check out the bloody window glass.”

I dialed Morelli, and he answered on the first ring.

“I went back to Diggery’s,” I said. “I did some exploring and found a hole in the ground that looks like it leads somewhere. You need to check it out. I was standing over it and three zombies appeared out of nowhere and chased me back to Diggery’s double-wide. One of the zombies smashed a window trying to get at me, but Ethel scared him away.”

“Where are you now? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little freaked. I’m heading back to your house. Where are you?”

“I’m at the station, doing paperwork.”

“You want to take CSI with you to Diggery’s. The zombie cut himself when he smashed the window, and he left a blood smear.”

“Zombies don’t bleed,” Morelli said.

“Exactly. About a quarter mile before you get to the double-wide, there’s a bend in the road. If you look right you’ll see a path going into the woods. Follow the path to the zombie den.”

“I’m on it.”

“How did it go with the woman who got chased out of her house?”

“She was in her kitchen, and a zombie walked in and told her he wanted her brain. She said he was filthy and his eyes were red, but he was surprisingly short for a zombie. She said he had a brown ponytail and looked confused.”

“Do you think it could have been Slick?”

“I guess it’s possible. Ziggy was first on the scene, and he said there was no sign of the intruder. They cleared the house, but the woman was too upset to stay there. She’s spending the night with her sister.”

Diesel waited for me to end the call.

“We should be moving out if the police are moving in,” he said.

? ? ?

We drove to Morley Street and cruised the neighborhood. Houses and lots were larger here than in the Burg. Not palatial mansions, but comfortable family homes that had more than one bathroom. There was no police presence in the area. Presumably they had all moved over to Diggery’s dirt road.

“It all looks so normal,” I said to Diesel. “Hard to believe there are zombies roaming around.”

Diesel pulled into the cemetery lot and parked. “Let’s look around,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to see much last time I was here.”

We walked through the gate and followed the main path. “Do you think the guys you saw could have been zombies?” I asked Diesel.

“They weren’t zombies when I saw them. They were just hanging out, smoking weed. The south side of the cemetery, by the church and Morley Street, is well maintained. The north side backs up to the projects. It’s littered with trash and discarded drug paraphernalia.”

We stopped at Slick’s campsite and looked around. It was clear that the grave had been exhumed. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. All traces of police activity had been removed. There weren’t any signs warning people of a zombie portal.

“What do you think?” I asked Diesel. “Are you getting any ideas?”

“Yeah, but none that relate to zombies.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What then?”

“Bacon cheeseburger.”

“Anything else?”

“Onion rings, fries, beer.”

“Does that mean we’re done here?” I asked him.

“No. It means we need to keep walking. There’s a burger place just before you get to the projects.”

“Mickey’s,” I said. “I’ve been there. They have excellent cheese fries.”

We wandered off the path, covering as much of the cemetery as possible, but we found no new dig sites. We exited through the gate just before the projects and crossed the street to Mickey’s. I’d been there a bunch of times before with Lula. Lula could sniff out cheese fries a mile away.

Mickey’s consisted of a small, windowless room with four booths on one side and a bar on the other. It was so dark the booths could have been occupied by zombies, tree fairies, or gorillas and no one would know. It smelled like burgers and beer and deep fried everything. We slid into a booth and ordered.

“What’s the deal with you and Morelli?” Diesel asked. “You’ve been seeing him off and on for how long? Thirty years?”