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progress. The policeman was holding it one-legged sort of in the air. But the zombie kept trying. It would
keep trying until it was incinerated or Dominga Salvador changed her orders.
More uniformed cops came in the door. They fell on the butchered zombie like vultures on a wildebeest.
It bucked and struggled. Fought to get away, to finish its mission. To kill me. There were enough cops to
subdue it. They would hold it until the lab boys arrived. The lab boys would do what they could on-site.
Then the zombie would be incinerated by an exterminator team. They had tried taking zombies down to
the morgue and holding them for tests, but little pieces kept escaping and hiding out in the strangest
places.
The medical examiner had decreed that all zombies were to be truly dead before shipping. The
ambulance crew and lab techs agreed with her. I sympathized but knew that most evidence disappears in
a fire. Choices, choices.
I stood to one side of my living room. They had forgotten me in the melee. Fine, I didn't feel like
wrestling any more zombies tonight. I realized for the first time that I was wearing nothing but an oversize
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T-shirt and panties. The T-shirt clung wetly to my body, thick with blood. I started towards the
bedroom. I think I meant to get a pair of pants. The sight on the floor stopped me.
The first zombie was like a legless insect. It couldn't move, but it was trying. The bloody stump of a
body was still trying to carry out its orders. To kill me.
Dominga Salvador had meant to kill me. Two zombies, one almost new. She had meant to kill me. That
one thought chased round my head like a piece of song. We had threatened each other, but why this level
of violence? Why kill me? I couldn't stop her legally. She knew that. So why make such a damned
serious attempt to kill me?
Maybe because she had something to hide? Dominga had given her word that she hadn't raised the killer
zombie, but maybe her word didn't mean anything. It was the only answer. She had something to do with
the killer zombie. Had she raised it? Or did she know who had? No. She'd raised the beast or why kill
me the night after I talked to her? It was too big a coincidence. Dominga Salvador had raised a zombie,
and it had gotten away from her. That was it. Evil as she was, she wasn't psychotic. She wouldn't just
raise a killer zombie and let it loose. The great voodoo queen had screwed up royally. That, more than
anything else, more than the deaths, or the possible murder charge, would piss her off. She couldn't
afford her reputation to be trashed like that.
I stared past the bloody, stinking remnants in the bedroom. My stuffed penguins were covered in blood
and worse. Could my long suffering dry cleaner get them clean? He did pretty good with my suits.
Glazer Safety Rounds didn't go through walls. It was another reason I liked them. My neighbors didn't
get shot up. The police bullets had pierced the bedroom walls. Neat round holes were everywhere.
No one had ever attacked me at home before, not like this. It should have been against the rules. You
should be safe in your own bed. I know, I know. Bad guys don't have rules. It's one of the reasons
they're bad guys.
I knew who had raised the zombie. All I had to do was prove it. There was blood everywhere. Blood
and worse things. I was actually getting used to the smell. God. But it stank. The whole apartment stank.
Almost everything in my apartment is white; walls, carpet, couch, chair. It made the stains show up
nicely, like fresh wounds. The bullet holes and cracked plaster board set off the blood nicely.
The apartment was trashed. I would prove Dominga had done this, then, if I was lucky, I'd get to return
the favor.
"Sweets to the sweet," I whispered to no one in particular. Tears started to burn at the back of my
throat. I didn't want to cry, but a scream was sort of tickling around in my throat, too. Crying or
screaming. Crying seemed better.
The paramedics came. One was a short black woman about my own age. "Come on, honey, we got to
take a look at you." Her voice was gentle, her hands sort of leading me away from the carnage. I didn't
even mind her calling me honey.
I wanted very much to crawl up into someone's lap about now and be comforted. I needed that badly. I
wasn't going to get it.
"Honey, we need to see how bad you're bleeding before we take you down to the ambulance."
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I shook my head. My voice sounded far away, detached. "It's not my blood."
"What?"
I looked at her, fighting to focus and not drift. Shock was setting in. I'm usually better than this, but hey,
we all have our nights.
"It's not my blood. I've got a bite on the shoulder, that's it."
She looked like she didn't believe me. I didn't blame her. Most people see you covered in blood, they
just assume part of it has to be yours. They do not take into account that they are dealing with a
tough-as-nails vampire slayer and corpse raiser.
The tears were back, stinging just behind my eyes. There was blood all over my penguins. I didn't give a
damn about the walls and carpet. They could be replaced, but I'd collected those damned stuffed toys
over years. I let the paramedic lead me away. Tears trickling down my cheeks. I wasn't crying, my eyes
were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombie all over my toys. Jesus.
17
I'd seen enough crime scenes to know what to expect. It was like a play I'd seen too many times. I
could tell you all the entrances, the exits, most of the lines. But this was different. This was my place.
It was silly to be offended that Dominga Salvador had attacked me in my own home. It was stupid, but
there it was. She had broken a rule. One I hadn't even known I had. Thou shalt not attack the good guy
in his, or her, own home. Shit.
I was going to nail her hide to a tree for it. Yeah, me and what army? Maybe, me and the police.
The living-room curtains billowed in the hot breeze. The glass had been shattered in the firefight. I was
glad I had just signed a two-year lease. At least they couldn't kick me out.
Dolph sat across from me in my little kitchen area. The breakfast table with its two straight-backed
chairs seemed tiny with him sitting at it. He sort of filled my kitchen. Or maybe I was just feeling small
tonight. Or was it morning?
I glanced at my watch. There was a dark, slick smear obscuring the face. Couldn't read it. Would have
to chip the damn thing clean. I tucked my arm back inside the blanket the paramedic had given me. My
skin was colder than it should have been. Even thoughts of vengeance couldn't warm me. Later, later I
would be warm. Later I would be pissed. Right now I was glad to be alive.
"Okay, Anita, what happened?"
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