The Down Home Zombie Blues (38 page)

And that shocked him. Not Officer Theo Petrakos who became Detective Theo Petrakos who was now Sergeant Theo Petrakos. Nephew of Stavros Petrakos, a thirty-year vet of the same job.

It was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do: be a cop. And he swore he’d never let a woman come between him and his career. Yet here he was with that possibility raising its ugly head.

And here he was—with Rordan’s challenges echoing in his mind—capable of asking Jorie to do the same thing. What
would
he do if a Guardian ship returned?

An earsplitting sound halted his answer and doubled his heart rate.

Jorie was on her feet, lunging for the Hazer on the table. “Zombie!”

Rordan answered with a series of short commands in Alarsh that Theo ignored as he shoved away from the table. He grabbed his gun from under his shirt and was on Jorie’s heels as she bolted through the porch door.

Theo was immediately aware of two things: Sanders and the chief rearing back and reaching for guns secured on their hip holsters as he and Jorie charged onto the porch, and—slightly to the left of the two men and about twenty feet behind them—a pale green glow starting to solidify into a circular shape.

Panagia mou!

“Behind you!” he shouted, praying both men trusted him enough to turn around and not perceive Jorie and himself—both armed—as the enemy.

Rordan bumped past Theo, laser pistol out, as Sanders glanced over his shoulder. “What in hell?”

The high whine of the Hazer punctuated Sanders’s question. Jorie fired, the head and upper arms of the zombie already in full view. This was no juvenile. It slithered through the portal, twisting as laser fire sizzled against the energyworms writhing frantically over its body.

Jorie’s shouted exclamation drew Theo’s attention. The zombie’s lower arms slashed out in a wide arc. Jorie dropped to the ground as Theo flew down the porch steps toward her.

Eyes, he remembered. Opticals. Then go for the heart. He squared off, fired. Missed.
Fuck.

The arms swung back. Theo dropped, rolled, came up again, and saw Rordan sprinting off to his left, trying to get behind the zombie. “Crossfire!” he called out. “Watch crossfire!” He didn’t know if Rordan understood.

But there was no time. Razor-clawed arms were moving, reaching, grabbing, coming far too close to Jorie, who was—Theo realized with a surge of fear and anger—too close to this zombie.

Damn her!

The head dipped as he tried for the eyes again. Then one of Rordan’s laser shots caught the zombie in the neck, and for a split second it reared back. Theo took aim with his Glock. Fired.

Pow-pang!
An eye exploded with a hard crack, the impact from his bullet sending a chunk of zombie cheek flying in its wake.

The creature’s head dipped, and when it raised it, Theo was ready.
Pow-pang!
Another eye. One more—

The zombie lunged as Jorie darted forward, Hazer raised, her concentration on the white heart and not on the clawed arm coming swiftly toward her. Theo damned the fact that he was in love with a woman who was constantly intent on bucking the odds.

“Jorie!” He jogged toward her, firing on a joint in the arm in an attempt to sever it. More zombie chunks flew, but the arm kept coming. “Jorie! Down!”

A stream of energy burst from her Hazer just as Theo reached her. There was a blinding green-white flash. He grabbed the waistband of her jeans, yanking her to the ground. She landed on her butt with a yelp and a sharp exclamation, cursing him, for all he knew. He didn’t care. He threw himself on top of her as a rush of wind across his arms told him just how close they’d come to getting shredded like the roof of his car.

“Theo,” she said into his neck as he was breathing in big gulps of grass and Jorie-scented air. “The zombie’s gone.”

He rolled off her, raising his gun as he did so. Everything was eerily quiet. And empty. Except for Rordan trotting toward them at a rapid clip, looking none too pleased at Theo’s arms around Jorie. And Sanders, Brantley, and Martinez standing stiffly on his back porch.

The zombie
was
gone. Jorie must have hit its heart.

Theo shoved his gun back in his holster. Then he drew her to her feet and didn’t let go of her hand, even though Rordan was a few steps to their left and Brantley and Sanders were now bearing down on them from their right.

“I thought I felt its arm swinging—”

“You felt the portal collapsing.” She cocked her head at him, and it was all he could do not to plant a kiss on her smudgy, grass-streaked face. “Next time, retreat a few maxmeters from a portal before pushing me to the ground. Yes?”

“I’d like there to be no more next times,” he murmured, because Rordan was approaching, spouting a stream of unintelligible Alarsh. “What now?” Theo added. He was tired of being left in the dark where Rordan was concerned. This was, damn it all,
his
planet.
His
chief was on the scene. Rordan needed to learn to speak English or—

“How many of those creatures did you say are here?” That was from Chief Brantley, his mouth set in a grim, determined line. Sanders, striding behind him, looked equally disturbed.

“About three hundred,” he told Brantley, already seeing National Guard trucks rolling down Central Avenue. Followed by the media, of course. “But they’re not all that big. Many are smaller, like Baby. And we really only need to deal with the main one, the C-Prime.”

“Three hundred.” Brantley gestured to where the zombie no longer stood. “Of those.”

Now it was the black sedans with their darkened windows Theo could see in his mind. FBI. CIA. NASA. Some alphabet-soup agency that would take Jorie away from him.

As if sensing his fears, she pulled her hand from his and turned to Rordan.

Jorie said something low and short in Alarsh. Rordan was silent a moment, then answered.

Feeling lost in more ways than one, Theo turned back to the chief. “I don’t think this has to be a big operation, sir. I already have some volunteers. A smaller group would keep any wild rumors from causing problems.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Petrakos.” The chief pulled out his cell phone and glanced up at Sanders. “I’m contacting Secretary Warren at the Homeland Security Task Force. And unless she has a better idea, the next call I’m making is to the governor.”

Theo’s gut clenched at Brantley’s words. He didn’t dare argue with the chief. But he had to. “Sir—”

“I hear you on the rumors, Sergeant. I know the problems we could face if the television stations got hold of this. But DHS is very experienced in dealing with exactly those kinds of situations. Let’s let the experts do their jobs.

“In the meantime, I expect you and Commander Mikkalah to make yourselves available to anyone from DHS the minute they ask.” He pinned Theo with a hard stare through his wire-rimmed glasses. “Your vacation is officially over.” And with that, Brantley turned away and, cell phone to one ear, headed down Theo’s driveway, Sanders in tow.

Theo waited until they’d rounded the corner of his house before letting his shoulders sag.

Zeke stepped back, his hands splayed in silent apology. “Theo—”

Theo waved away whatever his friend had to say. Words couldn’t change things at this juncture. Only action could, and he wasn’t sure what action to—

A blur of movement on his left and the sharp sound of a fist against flesh. Theo spun to see Rordan stumble backward, eyes wide, and land on his ass on the ground with a grunt. Jorie stood over him, eyes narrowed, rubbing her knuckles.

“What’s going on?” Theo asked quickly, his right hand resting on his gun’s grip as Zeke shouldered up next to him.

“Get up, Commander,” Jorie ordered tersely. “In the residence. Now.”

“What did he do?” Theo watched Rordan rise stiffly, a reddened patch on his jaw. When Jorie’s hand shot out again, Theo thought she was moving in for a second punch, but, no, she was pointing to Rordan’s scanner.

The man held on to it for a moment, then, with a brusque movement, yanked it from its holder on his belt and shoved it into Jorie’s waiting hand.

She said something short and hard in Alarsh. Rordan answered, equally short. Then he strode off toward the rear door.

“What did he—” Theo repeated, but Jorie waggled the scanner in front of his face.

“That zombie,” she said, “was not sent by the Tresh.”

“
Rordan
did something to the scanner so the zombie would attack? But why?”

“How?” Zeke put in.

“That,” Jorie answered as Theo fell into step with her, Zeke trailing behind, “is what we are now going to find out.”

27

“What do you mean you did it for me?” Jorie hated questioning Rordan in Alarsh. She was all too aware of Theo’s strained look as he sat at the head of the small galley table, arms folded and unable to follow the conversation. She was all too aware of Martinez’s nervous, narrow-eyed stare from where he leaned against the refrigeration unit. But she couldn’t afford any miscommunication right now between Kip Rordan and herself. His life, quite honestly, hung on what he said.

“We’re surrounded by nils,” Rordan replied easily. Her punch to his jaw didn’t seem to hamper his speech, but then, for all his annoying qualities, Rordan had never been one to whine about physical discomfort. “Inexperienced, dirt-sucking nils who have no comprehension of the seriousness of the situation that faces them. I decided to show them.”

“You decided.” Jorie cut the rest of her sentence short, reining in her temper because she knew she was tired and she knew she was stressed. She also knew—in a way she didn’t want to face—Rordan was partially right.

But his method was so very wrong. “That zombie could have killed Theo’s superior officer.”

“With both you and me on the scene? The nil and his associate were also armed. I assume they’ve had the same training Petrakos has. And we’ve learned their projectile weapons can be somewhat effective. Given those factors, it was an acceptable risk.”

“A risk you took without consulting me.”

“I didn’t foresee your cooperation.” Rordan touched his jaw gingerly. Then, to her surprise, a wry grin played over his mouth. “You pack a good one for a lightweight.”

“This isn’t the time for levity, Commander.”

A trilling noise came from Martinez’s direction. Jorie angled around and saw him pull out the small communication cell phone, then place it against his ear. “Sir,” Jorie heard him say. “Yes, I…yes, sir.”

With a nod toward Theo, Martinez sidled out of the kitchen and into the main room, his conversation muffled.

Theo rose halfway, then settled back down. Jorie had a strong suspicion he didn’t want to leave her alone with Rordan.

“Jorie.” Rordan turned his hand toward her, palm open. “I’m trying to remind you I’m not the enemy here.”

“Pulling that stunt—”

“We need to establish our dominance. I can see you allying with the nils. You’re forgetting that
we
are the Guardians. This is
our
mission. If terrorizing the nils a little gains their cooperation, then it’s worth it. They need to remember who and what we are.” Rordan paused, then the hard edge dropped from his voice. “
You
need to remember who we are.”

Jorie waited for him to say it—
you’ve turned grounder
—but he didn’t. Perhaps he had no desire to experience another lightweight punch. Or perhaps, and more likely, he knew she already heard his condemnation.

“We,” she told him, “are out of our element and outnumbered. Utilization of available resources is not only a recommended but a sane course of action.”

Rordan leaned back in his chair. “Have you ever seen a nil society react to a Guardian—or to any what they call ‘extraterrestrial presence’ before?”

She knew what he was getting at. Rordan had been part of the rescue unit assigned to recover a Guardian research team from the nil-tech settlement on Borangari. She’d viewed the official reports and more than once listened to Rordan’s stories over a pitcher of ale.

“No one’s lashing us to boulders and pushing us off a cliff as a sacrifice to their god,” she said.

“Goddess,” he corrected. “No, they’ll do things a bit differently here. But our presence will cause problems, and we will not be easily accepted.”

“So you suggest what? Sit by and let the Tresh take over this world? Let them breed zombies so they can control the Hatches?”

“We risk that if you let Petrakos’s people control this mission. They might decide—and they will—that we are as much of an unknown as the zombies. I’ve been going over Wain’s notes. Plus, Petrakos has a number of printed periodicals in his residence. You know I read Vekran better than I speak it. Everything points to a culture that is highly xenophobic. They classify as fiction the fact that sentients populate other star systems. We are the very things their nightmares are made of.”

Jorie knew that. She’d read Wain’s notes too. And she was trained in nil-tech contact procedures, almost all of which she’d violated in the past several days. Even since Sergeant Petrakos has ceased to be a nil and become Theo—colleague, friend, and lover—to her.

“So you add to their nightmares by dropping a live zombie in their midst.” She shook her head. “And you add to mine by making me question your motives, your allegiance.”

“I intended to warn you. It just appeared more quickly than I anticipated. I don’t quite have your touch when it comes to that kind of thing.” He hesitated, his eyes darkening. “You can’t possibly still think I’m working with the Tresh?”

“I can think of a lot of different scenarios, Kip.” She hefted his scanner. “For now, this stays with me. Your G-One too.”

She saw the flash of anger in his eyes. So did Theo, apparently, because he shifted position, watching but very obviously coiled for action.

Not for the first time, Jorie felt torn between her upbringing, her training, and what experience was now teaching her. By all elements, Theo Petrakos was a nil. But he’d meshed so completely with her style, picked up so intuitively how Guardians operate, and she felt so comfortable with him.

But he was a nil.

Then why was she so much more attuned to him than to Rordan?

Because she loved him? Her silent admission shocked her, but even as she considered the truth behind the words, she knew what she and Theo had went far beyond the boundaries of the bedroom. She’d never felt so secure. And so afraid. And with so many larger problems looming over her.

Like Rordan’s misguided loyalty—and ego. “The G-One,” she repeated to Rordan, hand out. “Because, yes, I am a Guardian. And you know you’d do the same thing if the situation were reversed.”

He slid the weapon across the table toward her, clearly not happy, but the tension that had surfaced in him was gone. Theo evidently sensed it too, relaxing somewhat. But not completely.

That was something else she’d noticed about Theo Petrakos. He never really relaxed. Even when she’d found him sleeping in his reclining chair, he’d lunged out of it, pinning her within seconds.

“But I will give you an assignment,” she continued, pushing away the memory of Theo’s body against hers. “We will be dealing with the local security force. And I fully believe their xenophobia will come into play. Finish that research. Build out from Wain’s notes. I have no intention of sacrificing you, Tamlynne, or myself to their fears.”

It took a moment before Rordan nodded. Then he arched one eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to stop them when you take my weapon away?”

“We’re going to deal with them with an even more powerful weapon. You can terminate ten, twenty sentients with this.” Jorie raised the laser pistol. “But with knowledge, you can control thousands. And that, Commander Rordan, is what we have to use if we have any chance of survival.”

She waited until Rordan left the kitchen and was several steps into the main room before she eased her forehead down on her arms, folded on the tabletop. Hell’s wrath. She physically ached, though she knew part of that was the result of another nightmare episode she remembered only snatches of.

Snatches of feeling so safe with Theo’s arms around her…the same arms that—after a short scrape of chair legs against the floor—encircled her now.

Jorie leaned against him for a moment, then let him pull her to her feet. She rested her face on his chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. Martinez’s voice flowed into the room every few moments, a low exchange of sounds.

“So what’s happening?” Theo asked quietly.

Too much, too fast,
she thought. She pulled back slightly but kept her hands resting on his chest. She needed his warmth. “Rordan does not play subordinate well. He triggered the zombie’s appearance, believing to do so would insure your chief’s cooperation with us. With the Guardians,” she amended. Theo was not “us.”

“That was incredibly stupid.” Theo’s voice went hard.

“Not to Rordan’s way of thinking.”

“You’re sure he didn’t do it to help the Tresh?”

“One hundred percent? No,” she admitted. “Ninety-nine percent? Yes.”

“You took his gun away from him. And his scanner.”

“Because I don’t want him trying to play hero again. And he will. It’s in his nature and—”

“He wants you.”

Jorie raised her chin and blinked hard, not sure Theo had said what she thought he did.

“Rordan wants you. Wants in your pants. You understand the expression?” Theo asked, eyes narrowing for a moment as if he contemplated something unpleasant.

She nodded. She did understand.

“He’s never told you?”

“He—not exactly, no.” Their conversation in her office had held those overtones. But she’d tried hard since then to convince herself she was wrong. “He’s Lorik’s best friend.”

“Goes after his buddy’s girl, does he? Wonderful guy.” Theo brushed her hair away from her face.

“But he was my friend too. For many years. I think you’re misreading—”

“He warned me away from you. I’m not misreading anything, Jorie.” He paused. “He knows I’m in love with you.”

She stared at Theo, at that now-familiar face. Heat flared, blossomed. Fear spiked. Theo loved her. She wanted desperately to kiss him. She wanted desperately to push him away, so she could run and never have to face the consequences of loving him too.

“Theo—”

He covered her mouth with his, turning his name into a kiss that was heartbreaking in its gentleness.

“I know,
agapi mou,
” he said after he pulled back slightly. His breath fanned her face. “My timing sucks. But I had to tell you in case something happens. I love you, Jorie. I don’t care what planet you’re from. I don’t care who created the zombies or why. I don’t care that I’ve never seen a gravripper and you didn’t know peanut butter existed. I love you. I believe in you. And if need be, I will follow you into the jaws of hell, without question.”

“Theo.” Her voice wavered. She almost said it, almost told him she loved him. But fear kept the words from crossing her lips. Instead, she kissed him fiercely, far too aware that following her into the jaws of hell might be exactly what she’d have to ask him to do. Far too aware that loving Theo was also a hell of its own for her.

A noise made her suddenly pull back.

Martinez, clearing his throat. She sensed his disapproval and realized in some ways he wasn’t unlike Kip Rordan. He was here to remind Theo who he was and what he was required to do.

“Sanders has scheduled a preliminary meeting for oh-eight-hundred tomorrow,” Martinez said. “Information sharing, he calls it. Informal, but I take it DHS will be there.”

Jorie tried to place the acronym and failed. But she guessed it was another government entity.

“I didn’t tell anyone about Tammy,” Martinez continued quickly, with a slight nod to Jorie. “I thought you should know that. Suzanne and I discussed it. Tammy’s vulnerable. Can’t defend herself verbally. We thought…” Martinez shrugged and glanced at the floor for a moment. “You and Theo can protect yourselves. Commander Rordan’s tough. But Tammy’s not.

“If I’m wrong, boss, tell me,” Martinez added, looking at Theo. “But we thought if Jorie knew Tammy was safe, it would be one less thing for her to worry about.”

An unaccustomed tightness formed in Jorie’s chest. Nils—Rordan’s xenophobic nils—weren’t supposed to act like this.

Theo seemed equally touched. “And if the brass finds out?”

Martinez shrugged, though a corner of his mouth quirked slightly. “Then we’ll both be singing ‘The Down-Home Unemployed-Cop Blues.’”

After Martinez left, Jorie returned to the floor of Theo’s bedroom and the reassembled Hazer that still fought accepting the dart program. If they couldn’t get the dart to infect the C-Prime, then the only choice they’d have would be to initiate a full-scale hunt. But how, on this world, with herself and Kip Rordan being the only trained Guardians?