Read The Zombie Whisperer (Living With the Dead) Online

Authors: Jesse Petersen

Tags: #Jesse Petersen, #Horror, #Humor, #Living with the Dead Series, #Zombies

The Zombie Whisperer (Living With the Dead) (23 page)

Alec stared for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No, numbnuts, fifteen dollars. U.S. currency, a ten and a five. Shit, you are clueless. What that means is that I don’t have the cash to pay for that kind of expenditure.”

Natalie shook her head. “But Alec, if you lose your job because you’re caught stealing too many times, you won’t have any money at all. Plus, I’m sure the amount of razors you take has to seem super-weird. Don’t you worry they might get nosy if they start the paperwork to let you go—ask too many questions about why you need that many razors? It draws attention to you in a way that could be dangerous.”

He grinned at her, crooked and utterly charming. “I’m not sure I’m going to lose anything, sweetheart. This is my third warning and there’s been no consequence so far.”

Drake tilted his head. “How do you manage that if they keep catching you in the act?”

Alec laughed. “Female supervisor.”

Kai rolled her eyes. “So did you bring this up to brainstorm ideas on how you can manage to get razors and keep your job, or did you bring it up to brag about all the tail you get?”

“Both?” Alec said with a shrug.

“Eh,” Kai groaned. “You’re on your own, jackass. Anyone else have something to say?”

Linda raised her hand and the group as a whole sighed. There weren’t many movies about Swamp Dwellers. The closest one had been the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and in that feature the monster didn’t talk and he/she (that part wasn’t really clear . . .) was always portrayed as a bit of a badass. A thing that could get things done, even when they were totally evil things.

Linda . . . not so much. In fact, she was living proof of what everyone in the room already knew: authors of books and directors of movies got their lives so consistently wrong. Those hacks took a fraction of truth and then exploited and twisted it beyond recognition.

So Linda, unlike her movie counterpart, was timid, needy, and . . . well, flaky. Kind of like cooked fish. A joke Linda did not find funny in the slightest, so Natalie kept it to herself.

“Seriously, Linda?” Kai asked. “Really?”

Linda’s hand came down slowly and she slouched in her chair. “I like Blob better.”

To be honest, so did Natalie. He was the calming influence on a grouchy bunch of freaks. They didn’t argue as much when he led the proceedings. Hell, sometimes they even had a breakthrough, not that any of them would admit that if asked. Poor Blob had been trying to get someone to acknowledge a breakthrough for years.

Kai shrugged. “Well, maybe he’ll be back where he belongs on Wednesday, okay? And then you can tell us all about your cats and your neighbors you don’t like and whatever other tedium constitutes your day. Until then, why don’t we break this up for the night?”

Although Linda still looked pissed, the rest of the group appeared as relieved as Natalie felt. After all, they shared a common bond of what they were, but other than that, she felt very little connection to these people . . . er, things. And she had to go to work anyway. The medical examiner’s office waited for no man, nor beast. Not in New York.

Everyone gathered their things and Jekyll and Hyde ducked into the bathroom to perform their creepy ritual. No one waited for them. Instead they trailed out onto the street in a disorganized and silent group. No chitchat. No offers to share a cab or a walk to the subway station.

The church was on an iffier end of the street where there were no doormen at the apartment buildings. To Natalie's mind, that made it the perfect place to be mugged, and so as she half-assed waved to the others and trudged toward the station, she kept a wary eye out for people. She was made of various parts from dead people, convicts, mostly, which she tried not to think about (thanks a lot, "Dad"). Whoever had “donated” her ears to the project had exceptionally good hearing in life. Natalie used that to her advantage in the city, where danger did occasionally lurk, though admittedly not as much in the last fifteen years when the city had been “cleaned up.” (Translation: freaks were not welcome).

In the distance she heard a woman arguing with a man, probably over a purse. Part of Natalie thought about heading in that direction, of using her super-Frankenstein’s-Monster strength to be a hero.

But she’d learned the hard way that a hero’s path didn’t really get a person anywhere. Hell, she’d been chased out of a German village a century ago by people brandishing pitchforks and torches because she’d tried to help a child. And afterward? The brat had turned on her and started screaming and running.

She shivered. Not again. Nope, not in this life.

So instead of putting on her superhero cape (which she just knew would be far more stylish than Drake’s Dracula cape), Natalie walked down the steps into the train station and off to work with the dead. None of them talked, none of them caused her any problems whatsoever.

About the Author

Jesse Petersen grew up a geek in love with Star Wars, video games (King’s Quest, anyone?), books of all kinds, and even the occasional RPG. Eventually she grew up, at least in body, but she still loves anything with whimsy, and her books reflect that. Whether it’s funny zombies or monsters in group therapy, you’ll find books that mix giggles with gore. You can find Jesse at her website
JessePetersen.net
, her Twitter
@jessepet
and on
Facebook
, where she talks about Weird Al, cats, and even her books.