Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(71)

I shouted for help, and I was hit in the face with a shovelful of dirt. All the zombies were shoveling. They were moving the dirt that had been piled alongside the grave back into the grave.

“I gotta get out of here,” Lula said. “Give me a boost up. I’m gonna take out some zombies.”

I leaned against the dirt wall, and Lula climbed up me as best she could. A zombie swung his shovel at her, she grabbed the shovel, and pulled the zombie into the grave with us. He was on his back, flapping his arms, grunting, unable to roll over. The other zombies shoveled dirt over him. They were shoveling like robots without direction or emotion.

I ducked my head to avoid the dirt flying at me, and I shouted for help. Floodlights flashed on, and there were men in uniform everywhere. Some were Rangeman guys, and some were police. Ranger dropped into the grave and brushed dirt off my head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I lost the wire. It was the stupid tape.”

“Sorry. It put us at a disadvantage. Fortunately, I had a drone up, and we were at least able to see what was happening on the ground. I would have moved in sooner, but I decided it was best to involve the police when I saw the number of zombies.”

“Slick said Daryl was here, but he wouldn’t show his face until Lula and I were zombies. Turns out, the plan was to bury us alive and take our brains.”

“That wasn’t going to happen. Diesel and I were ready to go in and snatch you out. We were just waiting for everyone to get into place.”

Morelli was standing on the edge of the grave. Ranger lifted me up, and Morelli grabbed me and set me on my feet.

“What about me?” Lula said.

Lula was two inches shorter than I was and about seventy-five pounds heavier.

Ranger looked at her and grinned.

Morelli was also grinning. “I’m game if you are,” he said to Ranger.

Ranger hoisted Lula up to Morelli, and Morelli took it from there. To their credit, neither of them broke a sweat or grunted with the exertion. Lula’s skirt was up around her waist by the time she was set on the ground, and we were all treated to a view of her purple satin thong.

“I got dirt all over my bedazzled dress,” Lula said. “And my shoes are ruined.”

The police were cuffing all the zombies, and Diesel had Slick in tow.

“I found him,” Diesel said to me. “Break out the deck of Old Maid cards.”

I shoved my stun gun back into my pocket. “It doesn’t count. I found him first.”

“Yeah, but I caught him.”

“What’s this about?” Morelli asked.

“You don’t want to know,” I told him. “And anyway, it’s about nothing.”

“We’ll see,” Diesel said.

Lula speared Slick in the foot with her stiletto heel.

“Oops, sorry,” she said. “I’m so clumsy. I didn’t see your foot sticking out there like that.” She speared his other foot. “Or that one either,” she said.

“Police brutality,” Slick said.

“I’m not no cop,” Lula said. “I’m a former ’ho and now I’m doing some clerking.”

“I’d like to talk to the Supreme Ruler,” Diesel said to Slick. “How about you take me to him.”

“I can’t do that,” Slick said. “He comes to me. I never know where he is.”

Diesel picked Slick up by his ankles and held him at arm’s length over the grave.

“Does this help?”

“I don’t know. I swear. He’s spooky. All of a sudden he’s standing behind me, and then he’s gone.”

Diesel brought Slick in and dumped him on the ground. “All yours,” he said to Morelli.

Morelli and Ranger were busy doing cleanup, and Diesel disappeared, presumably looking for Daryl. Lula and I walked back to the parking lot.

“Here’s another night of my life I won’t get back,” Lula said. “I’m going home. I’m going to put my jammies on and watch a movie. It’s not gonna have zombies in it either. I’m done with zombies.”

Going home sounded like a good idea. Slick was in custody and I’d get my recovery money. I had nothing to fear. Morelli would be busy for hours. And I had no justification for staying with Ranger. I was already feeling the adrenaline letdown. I wanted to crash into bed and sleep for days.

I drove back to my apartment on autopilot. I managed to get myself into the elevator and down the hall. I plugged my key into the lock, opened the door, and flipped the lights on. Home sweet home. I went straight to my bedroom and kicked my shoes off. I stripped my shirt off and heard someone giggle behind me.

Daryl Meadum, the kid I saw on Diggery’s road, was standing in my doorway, holding a gun.

“I see you in your underwear,” he said.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I’m brilliant. Opening doors is a snap for me.”

“Shouldn’t you be relocating?”

“Yes, this is my last stop in Trenton.”

He was speaking so softly I had to strain to listen.

“I need a healthy culture to take to my new location. Frequently brain cells that are made available to me are inferior and produce an inferior product. Cadaver brain cells, for instance, are never my first choice. It’s difficult to build a good zombie army with inferior product.”