Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(72)

“Why do you want to build a zombie army?”

“It’s fun. It’s much more fun than video game zombies.”

“Don’t you miss doing your research?”

“No. It was boring. And people were always watching me, ordering me around. Eat your vegetables. Change your socks. Time for bed. Don’t do a lobotomy on the cat.”

I was feeling a little weirded out, standing in my bra, talking at gunpoint to the Supreme Ruler of the Zombies. Especially since he looked like he was fourteen years old. I was hoping I could distract him with conversation and create an opportunity to snatch the gun away. He didn’t look comfortable holding it. I suspected he had little to no shooting experience.

“It isn’t necessary to keep the gun pointed at me,” I said. “We’re friends, right?”

“Actually I have to kill you, so I can get your brain. I don’t usually do the killing, but this is the most efficient way to go about it. I brought my tools with me in my backpack. I have a power drill and a small power saw, so I have options. Probably I’ll go with the saw. It will allow me to remove the whole brain intact. I’m completely prepared. I have an insulated bag and an ice pack.”

“Gross!”

“Not at all. It should be an interesting experience. I like that you’ve removed your shirt. It feels very naughty to be killing you when you’re only wearing a bra. I don’t suppose you’d want to take it off?”

“I’ll trade you my bra for your gun.”

He thought about it for a moment. “That wouldn’t be a smart trade,” he said. “I can remove your bra after I kill you. In fact, I might remove all your clothes after I kill you.”

Eeek. Instant nausea. I swallowed back the revulsion and caught a glimpse of motion behind Daryl. It was so fleeting I thought I might have imagined it.

“So,” I said to Daryl, “where are you going next?”

“Austin,” he said. “I hear they have a good club scene. I think I can recruit some interesting zombies there.”

Diesel moved in behind Daryl. “Austin isn’t an option,” Diesel said.

Daryl spun around and pointed the gun at Diesel. “It is an option. I do what I want now. You have no control over me. If you don’t leave I’ll shoot you.”

“First off,” Diesel said, “I have total control over you, and your days of doing what you want are over. Second, if you shoot me it’s really going to piss me off, and you don’t want to piss me off.”

“I could kill you,” Daryl said.

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Diesel told him. “You should know that. Give me the gun.”

Daryl squeezed off a shot that hit Diesel in the leg, about three inches above his knee.

Diesel looked down at the hole in his jeans and shook his head. “This is getting old,” he said. “This is the second time I’ve been shot this week.”

“I meant to shoot you in the heart,” Daryl said, “but I’m not used to this gun. Hold still while I try again.”

I grabbed the lamp off my bedside table and took two giant steps closer to Daryl. Daryl turned toward me, I whacked him in the face with the lamp, and he crumpled to the floor.

Diesel stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at Daryl. Blood was gushing from Daryl’s nose onto his shirt and my bedroom carpet, and his eyes had rolled back into his head.

“Nice,” Diesel said.

“Did I kill him?”

Diesel nudged Daryl with his foot, and Daryl moaned.

“Nope,” Diesel said. “Not dead. Mostly you just rearranged his face.”

Daryl blinked to focus his eyes.

“I had a good run,” Daryl said.

Diesel nodded. “You had a good run.”

“And I saw her in her underwear,” Daryl said.

Diesel grinned. “Something to remember.”

Diesel hoisted Daryl to his feet and held him steady. Blood was still dripping from Daryl’s nose, but it had slowed to a trickle. Diesel’s jeans were caked with blood where he’d been shot.

“Are you okay?” I asked Diesel. “You need to get to the ER. You have a bullet in you!”

“Yeah,” Diesel said. “And digging it out is always a bitch.”

“Always? How many times have you been shot?”

“Occupational hazard,” Diesel said. “Not a big deal. I’m a fast healer.”

“Me too,” Daryl said. “Do I still have a nose?”

“I have to turn Daryl over to the appropriate agency,” Diesel said. “I’ll get looked at by a medic in transit. And I’ll be back after I deliver Daryl. We have unfinished business.”

“Me too,” Daryl said. “I’ll be back, too.”

“Not on my watch,” Diesel said.

“Your watch will end,” Daryl said. “My life work will continue.”

I stopped Diesel at my front door and pulled him aside. “Do I have to worry about Daryl coming back?” I asked him.

“No,” Diesel said. “You have to worry about me coming back. I’m batshit lucky at Old Maid.”