Free White Trash Zombie Apocalypse by Diana Rowland

the Coroner’s Office,” I told her, then grinned. “I wrangle dead bodies.”
    Jane laughed and made the typical that’s-kinda-gross face I was accustomed to. “I’m sorry I asked. Do you…like it?”
    “Y’know, it’s actually really interesting,” I replied, then paused. “It, uh, gives you a lot of perspective, that’s for sure.”
    She tilted her head, eyes on mine. “How so?”
    I met her gaze easily. For a Congresswoman, she was really easy to talk to. “Well, you get to see that lots of times people don’t get a chance to say goodbye. Shit can happen out of nowhere, and then you’re gone.” I shrugged and spread my hand. “And, well, it doesn’t matter how rich or powerful you are. You’re still gonna die eventually.”
    Her expression grew sober in thought, and I grimaced. “Sorry, I’m being a major downer here,” I said.
    She chuckled. “Not at all, I—” She turned at a sudden commotion in the tent near the walkway.
    The sight of another zombie actor stumbling through the tent triggered an odd oh-shit-something’s-wrong feeling in my gut. He’d been with the group earlier. I remembered his filthy, sky blue polyester suit. As I watched, he staggered drunkenly between the tables and yelled an incomprehensible word a couple of times that sure as hell wasn’t
braaaaiins
.
    Some people drew back in alarm but, based on the grins and chatter of the crowd, it was clear that the majority thought it was part of the movie promo.
    Jane winced as the zombie grabbed at a patron’s plate, snagging a chunk of cake and stuffing it in his mouth. “Oh, dear. That’s a bit much, isn’t it.”
    “No kidding,” I murmured as the oh-shit feeling grew.
    And then the breeze shifted. If I hadn’t been fairly well tanked up, I might not have noticed it, but right now there was no mistaking the very faint stench of zombie rot.
    Alarm shot through me.
That’s a real zombie
. I quickly swept my gaze around, but Marcus and Pietro were nowhere to be seen. Something needed to be done before this zombie started smashing heads.
    Something needed to be done. By someone.
    Shit.
    Why did I have the feeling that someone was going to be me?

Chapter 5
    I quickly dug the bag of brain chips out of my purse and stuffed them into my jacket pocket, then did my best to put on an exasperated expression. “Well, hell, he must be drunk or something, and everyone’s frickin’ watching him,” I said. “I’m gonna try to get him the hell away from the crowd and see what’s wrong with him.”
    Jane shot me a startled look, and I suddenly realized how ludicrous it no doubt seemed to her that I—all barely-one-hundred pounds of me—was planning on confronting what she assumed to be a rowdy drunk. “Angel! Are you mad? We should wait for Pietro and Marcus. You could get hurt!”
    “I won’t get too close,” I hurried to reassure her, though she didn’t look at all reassured. “They aren’t far, right? Just call Pietro and tell him what’s going on.” And with that I stood and headed off through the crowd before she could make any more extremely sensible protests.
    Being skinny had its advantages when it came to slipping through a crowd. I ducked between a couple ofgawkers and came face to face with the zombie. Close up I smelled the undertone of rot better, but his appearance confused the hell out of me. Movie makeup…and chocolate cake. A gruesome fake eye hung out of its prosthetic socket on one side of his face, but latex gaped on the other where he’d clawed at it, exposing the real grey, peeling skin beneath. This was a hungry real zombie made up as an extra, but he sure wasn’t acting right. I’d been starving more than once and there was no way I would’ve confused cake with what I really needed.
    I yanked the bag of brain chips out of my pocket and opened it. “Hey!” I waved the tasty morsels in front of him, hoping the scent of the brains would get through to his zombieness. “Here zombie zombie