It was nearing midnight when she stopped. She rubbed at the crick in her neck and closed her eyes in sudden weariness. I need a drink , she thought, something strong . But Jake kept the whiskey under the cupboard near his desk, and she just couldn't be bothered with getting up. It was probably just as well. The mood she was in, she'd probably get drunk and end up feeling sorry for herself.
She leaned back in the chair and rested her feet on top of the desk. For some reason, she felt safe in the office. All the doors and windows were locked and barred, so if anyone tried getting in she'd hear them.
A few hours' sleep would not go astray. She closed her eyes and drifted.
Images formed in her mind. Images that were indistinct and blurred, but full of panic. Figures lurched and spun in a gentle and terrifying dance. Death laughed, white teeth flashing across the darkness.
She jerked upright, her feet crashing to the floor. Now she knew what the other two zombies were up to. Jake was in danger.
She reached for the link, then stopped. It wasn't fair to call Michael every time she or Jake was in trouble. He was here to find Jasper, and she shouldn't keep distracting him from that.
It left her with only one other option. Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed MacEwan's number. He answered on the second ring.
'It's Nikki James. I need help,' she said.
'To do what?' His voice was terse, annoyed.
She wondered if she'd woken him. 'It's one of those situations that can't rationally be explained.'
Silence met her reply. She waited, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip on the receiver.
'Tell me what's going on,' he said, after a long moment.
She sighed in relief. At least he hadn't dismissed her outright, as many others would have. 'The man responsible for the recent spate of murders is going after Jake. Only he's sending his people to do it.'
'I see no problem. Jake's still in the hospital?'
'He is, but it's not that simple.' She hesitated, then softly cleared her throat. 'The people being sent are
… well, they're zombies.'
MacEwan made no sound. Even the soft rasp of his breathing had disappeared.
'They're two of the four women who went missing in Highgate Park.'
MacEwan swore softly. It was hard to tell whether he believed her or not, and all she could do was wait. Jake was in danger and needed help. If MacEwan wouldn't assist her then she'd have no choice but to turn to Michael. She couldn't cope with two zombies on her own, and she wasn't going to let Jake die now.
'And I was worried about explaining Monica Trevgard's sudden crisping. Jeez…'
If he had any doubts as to her sanity, she couldn't hear it in his voice. Maybe he had seen too much on the streets to be fazed by anything life threw at him now. Or maybe he was just humoring her while he called the men with the white coats on the spare line.
'How do we deal with these people?'
'I'm told the only way to stop them is to break their necks.'
'So I'm supposed to order my men to break the necks of a couple of dead women?' His voice was scratchy with either disbelief or amusement. Maybe both.
'There's no other way to stop them.' She glanced anxiously at her watch. Three o'clock. Time was running out for Jake. She had to move.
'Maybe.' Disbelief was stronger in his voice this time. 'We'd better meet at the hospital. Ten minutes?'
'Ten minutes,' she confirmed and hung up.
She stood and looked around the room. While she still had the silver knives down her boots, she wasn't so sure they'd be a deterrent against the zombies. And her wrist knives certainly didn't worry them. Jake had a gun locked in the safe, but would that work any better than a knife? Could a dead person be killed by a gunshot? What was that old rhyme? One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead men got
What about salt? Michael had said it was useless against zombies, but thrown into their eyes, it would stop them, if only briefly.
She walked across the room and opened the small cupboard under the sink. Jake had a fetish for extra salt on his chips, so there had to be some in here somewhere. She moved several jars around, eventually finding a large shaker. For good measure, she grabbed the pepper and shoved both in her pocket.
Then she retrieved her keys from her desk and ran out to the car.
MacEwan was waiting for her at the hospital, leaning against the side of a car almost as battered as her own. Two other officers waited near the hospital's main entrance. She knew there would be others guarding the remaining exits. When MacEwan did something, he did it properly.
She stopped her car beside his and got out. 'How many men do you have?'
He exhaled a long plume of smoke, then dropped the rest of his cigarette, crushing it under his heel. 'Six, two men guarding each of the exits.'
Six men, plus the two of them. Surely it was enough? 'Have you been inside?'
He nodded. 'Just to let the staff know what's going on.'
She stared at him. 'You told them about the zombies?'
He snorted. 'I'm not a fool.'
'And your men?'
'They've seen pictures of the missing women. I've told them to expect the unexpected.' He shrugged.
She knew then that he didn't really believe he'd be confronting zombies. 'You ready to go in?' he continued.
She looked around, then nodded. There was no one watching her. Maybe she'd lost the zombie. And maybe it had somehow beaten her here and joined its brethren.
Seven men might not be enough to cope with the inhuman strength and speed of three zombies.
God, she missed Michael. She missed his strength, his ability to make her feel safe. Missed all his secrets and irritating ways. Admit it , she thought, you simply miss him . But there wasn't a hope in Hades she'd reach for him. Jasper's last two traps had almost killed her. If he succeeded with the third, she didn't want to take Michael with her.
She stopped suddenly. She couldn't die. Michael's gift of life meant she couldn't be raised as one of the dead, simply because Jasper couldn't kill her—not unless he severed her head. And even if he did that, he couldn't raise her.
The implications were more than a little mind-boggling.
MacEwan opened the door and frowned back at her. She hurried forward. The nurse stationed at the front desk looked up, and Nikki gave her a brief smile then led the way to the elevators.
MacEwan spoke into a handset as they got into the elevator, ordering his men to keep sharp. She watched the floor numbers roll sedately by and hoped the men listened to him. Their lives might depend on it.
The doors opened on the eighth floor. MacEwan held her back and looked out, then made her follow him as he led the way down the silent hall. When they reached Jake's room, he motioned her to one side of the door, then stood on the opposite side and slowly pushed it open. Nothing happened. After a few seconds, she peered around the corner of the door. The room was dark.
Foreboding pulsed in her brain. MacEwan reached out and turned on the lights. She blinked at the sudden brightness. The room was empty. Jake was gone.
MacEwan swore and spoke quickly into the handset. Nikki ran forward, hand outstretched as she neared the bed, desperate to find something… there! She lunged forward and grabbed his reading glasses. Her palm burned as images rose. Jake was alive.
'The stairs!' She pushed past MacEwan and ran from the room.
He cursed and spoke quickly into the handset as he pounded after her. He grabbed her arm as she reached the stairwell and wrenched her backwards.
'Don't be a fool,' he said. 'You're unarmed. Let me go first.'
He drew his gun and cautiously opened the door. It was useless protesting, especially when he refused to believe what he was up against.
It was also a damn good reason for contacting Michael. But maybe that was what Jasper really wanted—her calling Michael here to help when the odds were on Jasper's side.
