“There’s not much I can do about it anyway,” Meadows said, “but we probably come out ahead. Frankly, we’re leaving the large concentrations for the Guard. From what I’ve seen, it’s not as easy as you’d think for a zombie to take down a victim, especially if they’re armed and trained. Like I said, even the firefighters and paramedics have tactical support. No one’s taking any chances and attrition should be pretty low, at least for now.”
“Okay, there’s rumors going around anyway, maybe we can use that. You want to go for head shots, Meadows. Or decapitation, but cops probably aren’t geared up for that. Do enough damage to a zombie’s brain, it goes down. It won’t destroy it, exactly, but it’ll take it out of the game.”
“Those rumors have already started, but I’ll help them along. It’s like the movies.”
“I guess, but that’s the only part that’s like the movies. A zombie-at least a fresh one-will be as smart as it was in life, just a lot crazier. Some will be armed. And this isn’t a plague, so don’t start shooting each other just because someone gets bitten.”
“What are your people doing?”
“We’re putting these motherfuckers down, but it’s going to take a while. We figured out what caused it and made it right, so if we can get ahead of it everything will eventually be back to normal. But in the meantime, we have to clear out the existing zombie inventory and stop them from making more.”
“What caused it?”
“You really don’t want to know, Meadows. The outfits are setting up sanctuaries on our territory. You see glowing tags, it’s our joint and we can protect you there. Help us put the word out. Most of our action is in the city so this won’t help much out in the ’burbs, but the densest areas will also have the biggest zombie problem.”
“You’ll expose yourselves. You’re not going to be able to stay hidden after this.”
“Don’t be so sure. We’ll juice everyone who comes in a sanctuary. Anyone starts making noise, making people ask questions or think too much, we’ll put the hoodoo on them, too. And at the end of the day, civilians believe what they want to believe. You tell them it was acid in the drinking water-oh sure, they knew that kinda thing was happening all along.”
“Well, might be you’re right about that,” Meadows said. “Folks don’t look too hard at what they don’t want to see anyhow.”
“Did you get your family out of town, or are they still in Inglewood?”
“What do you know about my family? And how did you know I live in Inglewood?”
“Stupid question, Meadows. If they’re still in town, make sure they know where to go, okay? We’ll do our best to take care of them. You can trust me on this.”
“I do. My husband’s a paramedic. Might be what you’ve told me will save his life. Thank you.”
“Okay, do what you can to spread the word the outfits are on the side of righteousness in this thing. We can do a lot but we’ll do it better if Five-oh can give us some space.”
“Are we going to make it through this?” Meadows asked. “Tell me the truth, Riley-should I punch out and spend some time with my family?”
I hesitated before answering. “I like our chances, Detective, but I can’t say they’re a whole lot better than fifty-fifty. There are a lot of them, and as for our plan, we’re pretty much making this shit up as we go along. A lot has to go right and a lot could go wrong. The truth is, I need your help, Meadows. But if I were you? I’d be with my family. I’d lock the doors and keep them close and I’d spend every hour like it was the last.”
There were still people I needed to talk to, but I couldn’t do it on the phone. I went over to the corner of the room where I’d deposited my old black-and-white TV set and switched it on. The tube gradually warmed up and my jinn familiar appeared on the tiny screen.
“Dominica, you’re alive!” he said with mock enthusiasm. Then his face relaxed into its usual expression of bored contempt. “Oh, that’s right. Zombies are no threat to the brainless.”
“I’m laughing on the inside, Mr. Clean.”
“I’m caring on the inside.”
“I need your help with the zombies.”
“I already informed you, I do not know what is causing the dead to walk. I speculated that it might be a viral outbreak, and though you demonstrated a certain lack of enthusiasm for my wisdom, you agreed to provide me with three score egg rolls from Shanghai Lucky Chow.”
“It was three dozen.” Mr. Clean apparently really liked egg rolls. It was probably the only thing we had in common. “And yeah, your wisdom was nowhere to be found on that one, but that’s not what I want from you. I need to know if you can help me drop some zombies.”
“They’re humans. I can slaughter them like lost sheep.”
“Can you free their spirits?”
“No,” said Mr. Clean, “I can slaughter them like lost sheep.” He raised a large, wickedly curved scimitar and showed it to me. It gleamed, even in black and white.
“It would be better if you could free their spirits,” I said.
The jinn shrugged and the scimitar disappeared. “Still, I’m interested.”
“What do you offer? The timing is rather inconvenient.”
“Fine, why don’t you go back to watching Baywatch reruns,”
I said.
“Baywatch isn’t on. There’s nothing but news reports, though I am enjoying the coverage.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples. “What do you want, Mr. Clean? Time is a factor, here.”
“I want you to cook for me.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll cook naked. I hope you like frozen burritos.” I needed to wrap this up, and he could probably spy on me in the shower, anyway.
“I already spy on you in the shower,” said the jinn. “This will be a bounty. One meal for every head I bring you.”
“One meal for every zombie head. I deduct two meals for every head that doesn’t blink or try to bite me. And you’re back in the box when I say so.”
“Done,” said Mr. Clean. “You will likely wish to arrange warehouse space.”
“What? Why?”
“The heads,” said the jinn. “There will be thousands of them.” Mr. Clean grinned and the screen filled with static.
Traffic in Hollywood is usually insane even without a zombie apocalypse underway. I spun my traffic spell and wove my way slowly through the gridlock to the Carnival Club. I parked on the street and went inside. The club was full and I was the only human in the place. No one was partying-the sidhe were all armed and formed up in orderly ranks, receiving orders from their commanders. I found Oberon sitting with Titania in a booth in the VIP section. I slid into the booth and picked up the bottle of tequila waiting for me on the table. I looked at the simple parchment label and whistled.
“Ilegal Mezcal,” I said. “You must want to apologize.” I broke the wax seal, uncorked the bottle and poured.
“It seemed appropriate for this meeting,” Oberon said. “I do regret the way we left things at the school.”
“From what little he’s said about it, he was a jerk,” Titania said. “But he wasn’t lying, Domino. We cannot bring more of the Court across without sufficient magic to sustain them.”
“I offered to let him pull juice from my territory. I guess that wasn’t enough.”
Titania glanced at her husband and frowned. The king looked decidedly uncomfortable. He picked up his glass and gulped the tequila.
“You should sip that,” I said. “You can slam Cuervo Gold shots the next time you’re at a frat party.”
“Why are we here, Domino?” the king said. “Harsh words were exchanged between us, yes, but we reached an agreement. We are fulfilling our part of it.”
I swallowed tequila and shook my head. “I’m not sure anymore how I fell into all this,” I said. “A few months ago I was just a gangster making sure the outfit’s rackets were doing what they needed to do. Now the world is falling apart and I’m trying to hold it together another day. And that’s not so bad, except every time I turn around you’ve got your hand in my pocket.”
