Broken Heart 7.5 - The Adventures of Zombie Larry (3 page)

“Dig under the snow drift and see if it’s attached to anything,” she said. Only in Broken Heart could two people find a freaking leg in their front yard and think it was normal.

“Zombies,” muttered Ralph as he crouched down and used his vampire speed to dust away the snow. “They’re always dropping their parts everywhere. And they smell like garbage dumps.”

“I still like Jessica’s idea that all zombies should be issued cans of Axe Body Spray,” said Libby.

“Then they’ll smell worse.” He paused. “It’s attached to a body.”

Libby squatted next to him, and looked down at the man they’d uncovered. “It’s Larry.”

“Nah,” said Ralph. “The last time we saw Zombie Larry, his eyeball was glued to his forehead.”

Libby examined the guy’s brow. “I see Superglue residue.” She studied him intently, frowning. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly ahead. “I swear
it’s
Larry. Only he’s looking a little less dead.”

“Other than that blue tinge, I think you’re right,” said Ralph. “No more flaking skin, no more slack mouth, and his hair had definitely grown back. What’s that in his hand?”

Libby plucked out the orange gem. “It’s a big faceted crystal.” She looked at it.
“Probably fake.”

Larry blinked, and then he moaned. Not a zombie moan.
A human one.
Translation: OUCH!

“Holy crap,” said Libby. “He’s alive. Let’s get him inside.”

*
         
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*

“I’m completely freaked out,” said Libby as she helped her husband arrange a comatose, but
breathing
Larry in the backseat of the Honda.
“Seriously.
Freaked.
Out.”

“I think we should belt him in,” said Ralph as he studied the not-so-dead zombie stretched in the back seat. He was too tall to fit, so he was really scrunched in there.

“Hel-
lo
,” said Libby from the other side of the car. “Your wife needs reassurance.”

Ralph stopped contemplating the Larry transportation issue and rounded the car to hug his wife. “This is Broken Heart,” he said. “When was the last time something weird didn’t happen here?”

“True.” She sighed. “I guess we should get him buckled in.”

Ralph kissed her. She melted into his embrace, and for a second, the kiss went nuclear, and she forgot all about the zombie.

“If there wasn’t an almost dead guy in it the backseat, I would take you to our bedroom right now,” said Ralph.

“Yay for night school!” said Libby. The boys were in third grade now, and their daughter had started kindergarten. “Boo for zombies.”

“Let’s go,” said Ralph.
“Now.”

Libby felt a little guilty for shoving the zombie around and being all in a hurry so they could return home for some nookie.

Then again…
Larry would understand.

“What about the gem?” asked
Libby.

“Let’s hand it over to Patsy and Gabriel. It might have something to do with Larry’s new lease on life.”

“Okay dokay.” She threw her husband a smoky look. “Let’s roll. ‘Cause time is a
wastin
’.”

Ralph dove in the car and had the engine turned over before Libby had buckled her own seatbelt.

He took off like a shot, and Larry, not so comfortably arranged behind his own seatbelt, groaned.

*
         
*
         
*

“The zombie’s here,” said Patsy. The queen of vampires and werewolves was sitting on the front porch with her husband sharing a bowl of chocolate ice cream. Offering him some had been a big-assed mistake because he’d eaten half the freakin’ the bowl. But then he suggested what they could do with rest of the ice cream, and she’d darned near called Ralph and Libby to hold off on the delivery of the strangely alive Larry.

“I hate being the boss,” she groused as they watched the Honda zip up the very long driveway. “Is it just me, or does Ralph think he’s a
Nascar
driver?”

“He does seem to be in a hurry,” said Gabriel. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s neck, which made her shiver. “I promise we will have time later to explore our dessert options.”

Patsy grinned at him.

Ralph barely had the car in park before he jumped out, and swung open the door to the Honda’s back seat.

“Here you go,” said Libby, as she popped out of the car, and helped her husband haul out the zombie.

Patsy left the bowl of ice cream on the porch, and walked with Gabriel to take over their new charge. “You found him in a snow bank?”

“Yep,” said Ralph. He practically threw the zombie at Gabriel, who managed to catch the poor man and swing him up into his powerful arms.

“He had this on him,” said Libby. She lobbed an object at Patsy, who caught it easily. “It’s a gem. Don’t know much else about it.”

Libby was already in the car, belting herself in.

“That’s it?” asked Patsy incredulously.

“Pretty much,” said Ralph. “Good luck.”

He scrambled into the car, and within two seconds, the Honda was zipping back down the driveway.

Patsy looked at her husband, feeling even
more grumpy
. “They are so going home to have sex.”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “I think the werewolves in Siberia could smell those pheromones.”

“Lucky bastards,” said Patsy. She sighed.
“All right.
Let’s get him into a room and get Stan over here.
Unless he’s having sex, too.
Why does everyone get sex, but me?”

Gabriel laughed, as they both turned toward the house. “I promise, my love, that I will accommodate your needs as soon as possible.”

Patsy brightened.
“Sweet.”
Her gaze went to the zombie who seemed to sleeping peacefully in the werewolf’s arms. “I wonder what his story is.”

“We will know soon enough,” said Gabriel.

They walked into the house.

A few minutes later, with Larry securely tucked into a comfortable bed, Gabriel returned to the porch. He picked up the bowl of melted ice cream, and grinned.

*
         
*
         
*

“He’s not bad-looking,” said Linda Beauchamp Michaels.
“For a zombie.”

Her husband, Dr. Stan Michaels, looked down at the unconscious man splayed on the bed. Patsy and Gabriel had placed him in one of many available guest bedrooms. The man who’d spent months shuffling around Broken Heart with an eyeball Superglued to his forehead was looking more alive with every passing minute.

“I don’t think he’s a zombie anymore,” said Stan. “He’s got a heartbeat. And his lungs are working.”

“And he’s got skin,” added Linda. “Not to mention all of his hair.”

Stan rubbed a hand over his bald head and slanted a glance at his wife. She grinned and kissed him soundly. “I love you, Cueball.”

“Well, I’d believe you if you weren’t drooling all over the dead guy.”

“He’s not dead,” she said. “Besides, you’re the only guy, dead or otherwise, for me.”

Mollified, Stan moved away from the bed. He scooped the orange gem from the nightstand. This gem had been going around Broken Heart the last few days and granting wishes to whoever held it. “He must’ve made a wish,” he mused.

“But how did he get it?”

Stan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s mine,” said a hoarse voice.

Linda and Stan were both startled and turned to look at Larry.

“I lost it fifty years ago.”

“You’ve been dead for fifty years?” Linda sounded horrified. “How did you get back into your body?
How did you get… alive again?”

Larry had blue eyes, and blond hair. He was tall, and as he got more and more… well, alive, he was also getting muscled. Larry the former zombie really was a looker.

“He appears to be returning to the same form he had before he died,” murmured Stan. He was staring at the man with clinical precision, no doubt noting details no one else would think important.

“Before I was murdered,” said Larry. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Shit,” said Linda. “Murdered?”

Larry had obviously passed back out. She glanced at her husband, who shrugged.

“We’ll let the queen know, but I hardly think solving a fifty-year-old murder is relevant now.” Stan returned the orange gem to the nightstand. “We should let him rest. I’ve taken all the samples I need.” He picked up the case where he’d stored the blood and skin he’d taken from Larry.

“Poor soul,” said Linda as she took her husband’s free hand. “I hope he’s okay.”

“We’ll know more after I finish the tests,” said Stan.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He led her out of the bedroom, and she turned and shut the door behind them.

A couple minutes later, the closet door popped open and thirteen-year-old Jenny Matthews O’Halloran stepped out. Larry had been the town zombie because of her.

She’d found him when she was nine years old—on Halloween night. He was her zombie, and she had to take responsibility for him. She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that. Mom was all about responsibility
this
and responsibility
that.
What-
ev-er
.
At least rescuing a zombie was more fun that scrubbing toilets. Bathroom duty totally sucked. And they were rich, so they could pay someone to clean the whole house, too, except her parents were too down-to-earth to employ a maid service.

Quietly, Jenny crept to the bed and shook her zombie awake. “Larry?”

He blinked awake.
“Princess?”

“Yeah,” she tugged on him. “C’mon. I’m getting you outta here.”

He smiled. “You’re rescuing me?”

“Like you rescued me, Larry.”
Jenny didn’t like thinking about that night in the cemetery. If Larry hadn’t seen her fall into the pit… she shuddered just remembering how it felt to have the earth give way under her feet.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she promised.

“I need clothes.”

“Thought of that!”
Jenny ran to the closet and grabbed an armful of clothing from the floor. “I brought some of my dad’s sweats.”

She piled the pants and shirt onto the bed. “There’s another way out of this room,” she said.
“In the closet.
There’s a little hallway that goes down to a door into the garden. Soon as you’re dressed, I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, princess.”

Jenny scurried into the secret passage, her heart pounding. Her plan had only been to get Larry away from the adults who would only poke and prod him like he was a lab rat. She didn’t know what she would do after she got him to her secret place in the woods, but as her mother said, one damned problem at time.

*
         
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