Page 5 of Bitten By Zombie

The bastards Stan gave her to must like the fight, or they’d have just left her passed out and went about their business.

Winners that they were, they didn’t seem to care if she was an addict or not, Brown Eyes held on tight. However, the fact that they thought she was, was just insulting for some irrational reason.

Why did she even care? Her brain was fried. Whatever Stan gave her had broken her brain. That was the only explanation.

“Who the hell is Stan?” one voice asked.

Of course, he wouldn’t give his real name. Not to lowlifes. Stan rose above it all.

She felt more than heard the rumble against her back. “I think we have a piece of the puzzle. Call Virus. Give him her description, Stan, and what little info the car yielded. He’s good. I doubt he’s that good, but it’s a start.”

“On it, prez.”

Their words registered in her brain, but meaning and context were lost.

When Stan said he wouldn’t let her shame him, then shoved a bunch of pills down her throat, she foolishly thought he had meant nothing harmful by it. She assumed he’d given her the pills to fog the memory so no one would believe anything she said.

She’d still believed in him as the Stan she known, right up until he’d placed her in the trunk of her own damn car. She believed she’d die in there.

But there were fates worse than death, and apparently, she’d found herself in one.

One she physically couldn’t escape.

She heard the unfamiliar male voices talking but tuned them out for the most part. What was the point of hearing what vile things they planned? Better to live it only once…or not at all if she kept fighting.

There was no hope of escape, but maybe, just maybe, they’d drug her again, or last resort, kill her if she fought too hard.

“Fuck,” her captor growled and stood but didn’t relinquish his hold on her. “I’m bleeding.”

It took her brain a second to catch up, but the backward head butt yielded results. Not the one she hoped for, but blood belonging to someone other than her was a start.

In the standing position, she had more power. She brought her foot down hard on his left ankle. If she could bring him down, she could bolt. Bolting was good.

But instead of him howling in pain, it was her doing the howling. It felt like she’d connected with solid fucking steel instead of flesh and bone.

Now she wouldn’t be bolting anywhere for the foreseeable future.

“Godda…what’s Joanie’s ETA again?” He sounded pissed. Like that scary calm kind of pissed.

Controlled anger terrified her more than blind fury. Uncontrollable rage could be exploited, case in point, stupid ass Stan toward the end.

But caged fury? That was another thing entirely.

And the man holding her had it in spades. At least at first. He seemed to catch himself and force a calmer demeanor.

“Right now, Zombie,” a female voice spoke. The first she’d heard since waking up. “Squatch, Hook, out,” the female voice ordered.

A moment passed, and she felt the man behind her nod. She focused on the ambient sounds since she was facing the wall. Her brain was returning, just on slo-mo. She heard boots shuffle and a door close.

“Zombie, loosen your hold a little and let the lady breathe, will ya?” The woman stepped into her field of vision, blond hair, scrubs, and then, bright fucking light shining right in her eyes.

“If I loosen it too much, one of us is likely to end up with permanent damage,” he said, and then he laughed.

Fucking laughed.

All the earlier anger seemed completely dissipated with the arrival of the woman. Maybe she could exploit that relationship to her advantage.

“Hey, hon, I’m Joanie. I’m a nurse, and I’m here to help you. Can you tell me what you took, how long ago, and how much, if you know?”

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