Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (35 page)

A testament to Tom's skill as a trainer,
Daphne kept her ass cemented to the patio brick while I
approached.

"Okay," Tom commanded, releasing her from the
sit-stay position.

Both dogs made for me at a run. Seeing Daphne
coming toward me, I thought how adorable she was. Boss on the other
hand, with his tongue flapping up and down and hanging out the side
of his open mouth as he barreled toward me, invoked a bit of panic.
The playful glint in his eyes left no question that I was about to
be tackled, and I braced myself for impact.

"Oof!" I grunted when the huge dog planted
his front paws on my chest and drove me backwards to land on my
ass. He stood over me, crushing my lungs and attacked me with
slobbery kisses.

"I hear you laughing, assholes!" I shouted to
Meg and Tom who were giggling like a pair of schoolgirls at my
current predicament. Big mistake. My comment at the peanut gallery
left Boss just the opportunity he needed to stick his tongue into
my mouth and give it a big smooch.

"Blech!" I spat, shaking my head to either
side in an attempt to thwart his barrage off licks.

"Woof!" the big dog responded, pausing in his
affection just long enough to let out the bark.

"Oh, come on!" Daphne had arrived, and I felt
her tiny tongue added to the assault. My hands were doing their
best, and failing miserably, to cover my face, which left my ears
open. I screamed in disgust when I felt Daphne's little tongue jab
into my ear canal.

"Off," I heard Tom say. Both dogs instantly
ceased their exuberant assault and moved back a few steps. He and
Meg had closed the distance and I looked up, fixing them with my
death-rays.

"You planned that, didn't you?"

Tom made his best who me face and tried to
look sheepish. "Never, that would be evil," he replied innocently
and helped me to my feet.

"I'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog
too!" I cackled.

Meg laughed, and I gave her a withering look
that let her know her participation wouldn't be forgotten
either.

"Don't look at me," she protested. "I had
nothing to do with it. I'm innocent, I say. Innocent!"

I broke down and joined them in laughter at
her sad attempt to imitate a busted crime boss.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your dining
company today?" I asked her when she followed Tom and I back
outside with her food tray. "Not that I'm complaining. I feel like
I never get to spend any time with you anymore, which is weird
considering we haven't been more than a couple hundred feet out of
each other's radius in months."

"No special occasion. I just missed my sis.
Although, I don't know what I was thinking," she zipped her jacket
all the way up to her neck and rubbed her hands together to
generate some warmth. "It's freezing out here!"

A man crossed the patio to the back doors,
pausing to wave and call out a greeting. "Hey, Tom."

"Afternoon, Mel, you'd better hurry up and
get some grub before it's gone," the cop called back.

My blood ran cold at the name, forcing the
repressed memory of Dave and Mel, the men who had beaten me and
nearly raped Meg. Even though I knew the man was dead, the name
still invoked panic in me and my irrational brain made me confirm
that he was a different Mel. I reached out to Meg and squeezed her
clammy hand. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was focused on
deep breathing exercises. In through the nose, and out through the
mouth.

"It's not him, Meg," I reassured her.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and her breathing
returned to normal. When her hand stopped shaking, I pulled mine
away and we sat in silence across from each other, not breaking eye
contact until the flashbacks subsided.

"Well, that sucked," she breathed out.

"Ditto," I agreed.

Tom looked back and forth between the two of
us, waiting for an explanation. I gave him a sideways glance and
discreetly shook my head. Some things should stay buried. Mel and
Dave were a testament to that clichéd expression.

"Looks like I'll get to see Boss in action
tomorrow, Tom," I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

He looked at me, perplexed. "What do you
mean?"

"I sold my soul to the devil. In return for
my tagging along for tomorrow's expedition to do a little shopping,
I'll be hanging up my maid's uniform and going back to scrubs."

Meg choked on a french fry and slapped her
chest to dislodge it. "Are you insane?" she coughed out.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would Mack
ask you to go out?" Tom asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I lied. "I
guess he finally realized I'm one bad ass motherfucker." I flexed
my nonexistent bicep.

"Seriously," he said, deadpan. "What did he
say?"

I couldn't risk sabotaging my only shot at
getting off laundry duty, and I knew Mack well enough to know that
if I breached his trust there would be ramifications.

"I'm being serious. He just said he'd feel
better if someone with knowledge of medications and general
hospital layouts went along." I was quite possibly the worst liar
in the world. I guess if I had to be bad at something, lying is a
good thing. Though, as a teen it completely sucked.

When I lied, my cheeks and the back of my
neck burned, turning fire-engine red. I picked at my fingernails
and it felt like a neon sign blinked in my brain saying Liar.
During my senior year in high school, my cousin Rachel and I went
to a frat party. I enjoyed my share of the keg in a dingy basement
decorated with inflatable palm trees, sand, and yard sale sofas. On
the way home, I gargled and chugged mouthwash from a travel-size
bottle and thought I'd be able to breeze by my parents with a quick
wave and hide in my bedroom.

Either I underestimated my parent's skills of
observation, or I was sloppy drunk and in denial about it. I got
one foot into the house and any hopes of making it past them
unnoticed were dashed. They took one look at me and told me to take
a seat on the stairs. Much to my mortification, they began grilling
me about my night. Their expressions were unreadable, and just when
I thought I'd thwarted them, my father grabbed a magazine from the
table beside him and walked it over to me. He waited until he'd sat
back down next to my mother and said, "Read me an article."

My attempt was an epic fail, and I spent the
next month grounded. Then again, that's not saying much. I think I
spent most of my teen years grounded for doing stupid shit and
getting caught. One would think I would have perfected the art of
telling a lie, considering how often I tried to pull a fast one on
my parents, but it was a skill I just couldn't hone.

Tom just stared at me with no expression.
That's the only way to describe it. Years spent on the force
dealing with criminals taught him to give nothing away. But I held
firm to my guns and worked hard to reflect the same blank
expression. When I couldn't take it anymore, I looked away first,
thinking that I'd just given in and became beta to his alpha.
Still, though, I wasn't going to crack.

Meg was having none of it. "No way, Emma.
It's bad enough I have to deal with Jake going out there. You can't
go. What about the promise we all made to each other?"

I sighed and thought about the four of us
sitting on the deck of the houseboat vowing to stick together no
matter what happened. The day Vinny had laughed like a little kid
and went down the water slide. It was also the day Jake had held me
close while I dealt with the loss of Sanibel and our friends.

"Sorry, Meggy, I need to go. I'll be with
Jake, and you know he would never let anything happen to me." The
neon sign was back again, and not even I believed my own
proclamation given the way Jake had changed.

Which reminded me, I still needed to speak
with my husband. With dinner over, Jah opened one of the french
doors and poked her head out.

"C'mon, Meg," she called. "It's movie night,
and I want to get there before all the good seats are gone."

Meg stood to leave, graciously stacking my
plate on top of hers, and pointed her finger at me. "I don't like
this, and you both better come home safe tomorrow."

Tom, who thought she was including him in her
demand, leaned over to pat Boss on the head. "Aw, have no fear.
Boss will protect us from the bad guys."

She didn't correct him by saying she meant
Jake and me, but her pursed lips and narrowed eyes left no room for
interpretation.

* * *

After saying goodnight to Tom, I took Daphne
for a pit stop and climbed the Mount Everest of stairs to wait for
Jake. Thankfully, I had a book to keep my mind from playing out all
the potential macabre outcomes the following day could bring.

Daphne was sleeping next to me, her foot-long
body cemented to the side of my torso. Her head snapped up and she
looked at me, then stood and moved to the foot of the bed before
curling back up.

"What the hell was that look for?" I asked
her. She didn't respond, but I didn't really expect her to.

"Poof!" I cried. Using the book to fan the
air in front of my face, I cursed the foul animal. "Are you kidding
me? You had the nerve to look at me like I did that? You are a
disgusting dog!"

She huffed at me, and I would swear until the
day I died, that the little bitch laughed at me. Granted,
considering tomorrow's agenda, that day might come sooner than
expected.

The loud clock chimed eight times.
Apparently, I'd lost a couple hours in reading land. The
frustration at Jake's empty promise to talk after dinner grew, and
I went from calm to seething in under a minute.

I heard the snick of a door latch from the
bedroom outer room and tossed the book on the comforter as I jumped
up.

"Jake? Is that you?" I called out
optimistically, only to be greeted by the soft creak of a door
opening.

Entering the larger bedroom, I found Jake
seated at the foot of an empty bed, untying his black leather
combat boots. There is only so much disrespect one person can take
before they lose their shit. Being ignored was a hot-button for me,
and my shit was officially lost.

"So, what? You don't even have the decency to
acknowledge my presence anymore?" I lashed out in anger.

"I'm in no mood for your crap right now,
Emma," he cautioned, avoiding eye contact.

"I don't give a damn what you're in the mood
for at the moment, buddy." Heat flushed through my body, starting
in my face and reaching the tips of my toes. My teeth ground
together, and I fought the urge to vault over the beds and across
the room to scratch out his eyes.

Jake pulled off a boot and went to work on
the other one, once again ignoring me.

"You said we'd talk after dinner. Dinner
ended hours ago. What the hell was so important that you felt
justified in blowing me off?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Emma. Are you writing
a fucking book?" He slid on sneakers and lined his boots up against
the wall like Mister Rogers.

"Yes, I am!" I shouted.

"Fine. Then make it a mystery," he answered
harshly, and slammed the bedroom door behind him as he left the
room.

His attitude stunned me into silence, and I
stood in the middle of the room with my mouth hanging open in
surprise. My rage built like a swelling wave, and I released my
anger on an innocent, and likely expensive, vase. The poor
trinket's only crime had been to be located within reach of my
grasp. I snatched it up and threw it at the door with a primal,
murderous scream and watched as it burst apart into a thousand
pieces before spraying its broken shards onto everything in a five
foot radius.

I was so mad that I didn't even bother
cleaning up the result of my tantrum, and I shut myself into the
closet. First I cried. Then I got mad again, cursing Jake. I
followed up with more crying and blubbered to my dog like an idiot
until I finally fell asleep.

* * *

The worst thing about crying one's self to
sleep is the morning after. Much like a hangover, my head was
pounding when I opened my eyes. I groaned and rolled over, crushing
Daphne in the process. Big shocker, I was alone in the closet.
Someone had cleaned up the broken vase and I felt guilty and a bit
embarrassed at the memory of my momentary loss of self-control.

Like any good hangover, the mirror was not my
friend. I leaned in close and inspected myself. My eyes were puffy,
red slits, and what I could see of the sclera was bloodshot. A
long, hot shower was just what the doctor ordered, and after thirty
minutes I felt good enough to face the day.

I dug through my limited wardrobe and pulled
on a pair of khaki pants, figuring I would make a parody out of the
Guard by dressing just like them. The only problem was I didn't
have any black tee shirts. The light bulb went off and I remembered
that Meg did, so I snuck over to the dresser she shared with Jah
and claimed the shirt. When I checked myself out in the mirror, I
felt a little embarrassed. Meg was tiny, hence her shirt was tiny.
On me, it looked like a belly shirt. There was a few inches of skin
showing at the hem. I pulled it down, which only served to
accentuate my cleavage to the point of becoming obscene. But damn,
my boobs looked good. I smiled wickedly. Let's see Jake try to
ignore me now.

Meg was curled up into a ball, huddled
beneath layers of blankets. She looked so peaceful that I almost
didn't want to disturb her. "Meg." I shook her softly. "Meg, wake
up."

"Hmm...what?" she mumbled.

"I'm leaving Daphne with you today. Make sure
you remember to take her out with you."

She rolled onto her back and stretched,
rubbing sleep from her eyes, and blinked up at me.

"Holy boobs!" Her eyes went wide with the
shock of my chest, made worse by my leaning over her.