Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (30 page)

Wow, this guy was all pomp and circumstance,
and the more he spoke, the more I disliked him. He exchanged
introductions with Meg and Jake, and I knew he would make a big
deal out of it if I didn't feed into his ego trip and kiss the
ring. When I turned to introduce myself, he gave me an exaggerated
look of shock, even adding the dramatic gasp.

"What happened?" I asked. Did I have a
booger? Food on my face?

He stuck out a finger at Daphne, hard enough
that I wondered if he pulled a muscle. "Dogs have no place at a
dinner table, little lady. It's unsanitary."

"You've got a pile of rotting corpses
festering in the Florida sun just a few hundred yards away, and
you're worried about a dog at the table?" My inflection definitely
relayed the fact that I found his statement preposterous.

He sneered at me, pointing to the back door.
"Dog's eat outside."

Through the window, I saw a man seated at one
of the umbrella tables in the courtyard. A German Shepherd ate from
a bowl on the patio beside him. That was it, the last nail in the
coffin of this man's character. I loathed him. I readied myself to
deliver a biting retort, and Meg made a show of spilling her water
on the table and her lap.

"Oh, dear," she said dramatically. "Will you
look at what I've gone and done? I'm so clumsy. Emma, could you
come help me clean up a bit?"

I narrowed my eyes at her and shot her a
scathing look. Mack either didn't realize Meg was putting on a
show, or didn't care. Without a word, I tucked Daphne back under my
arm and stood, discreetly palming the rest of my turkey breast to
give her once we got back to the room.

"Pardon me," I said to the man. Looking him
straight in the eyes, I willed my bitchy self to lace my glare and
words with sickly sweet venom. He was close enough to my personal
space bubble that my chair struck his knees when I scooted it back,
and I felt a bit proud of myself when he yelped in pain. "Sorry
about that," I said, laying it on thick.

Meg came around to my side of the table and
led me away by the arm. When we made it to the base of the grand
stairs, I heard his southern drawl grow more pronounced.

Like one good ole boy to another, he nudged
Jake with an elbow. "Women," he said.

"Thank you for allowing us to join the
community. I'd better go make sure the ladies can find our room,"
Jake said.

Mack laughed at Jake, obviously taking his
sarcasm for sexist male bonding. "Of course. Enjoy your evening,
take in the grounds, and get to know the fine folks of Asylum. All
new arrivals are to meet our talent coordinator in the reception
hall for information on job opportunities when the seven o'clock
bell chimes.

Jake nodded and caught up to us on the
stairs.

* * *

I kept silent until we'd reached our fourth
floor bedroom, but upon closing the door, I erupted like a
volcano.

"The nerve of that fucking prick!" I blurted
as soon as we were alone. "Dogs eat outside," I repeated, mocking
Mack in a sniveling tone.

Meg chuckled at my imitation, and I went
on.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Apparently, the president," added Jake,
nonplussed.

"Yeah, well I certainly don't remember voting
for him. He's rude, sexist, and I'll bet he's even racist!" I put
Daphne down and paced the room, stamping my feet like a child in
the throes of a tantrum. My fists clenched and I felt the forgotten
turkey breast squish between my fingers. I sat on one of the empty
beds and tore off small pieces for Daphne, who gobbled them up with
vigor and wagged her tail between bites and stomped her little paws
on the floor waiting for the next morsel.

"Do you think everyone else agrees with the
way he runs things?" asked Jake.

"I didn't hear anyone speaking up, did
you?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything," he
replied. "Given what lies outside these gates, it's easier to stay
quiet and adapt to the status quo for fear of being tossed back
into Hell."

"That doesn't make it right," I objected.

"I am only going to say this once, Emma." He
grabbed the sides of my face and forced me to look at him. "Keep
your mouth shut; go with the program. I don't like it any more than
you do, but we haven't been here long enough to make an informed
opinion yet. So unless you are ready to have us all tossed out on
our asses, keep your objections to yourself."

I pulled my face out of his grasp but kept my
eyes on his. "I get it, Jake."

"I hope you do, because it would be suicide
to go back out there and try to make it on our own."

"Striker is managing just fine," I snapped
back at him.

"Sure, if by fine you mean living alone in a
metal box."

"Aren't you at least a little curious as to
why he chose to live in that metal box as opposed to this place?
That doesn't give you the least bit of pause?"

Jake looked at me, his eyes hard and cold.
"He's a psycho, or hadn't you noticed that while you were making
goo-goo eyes at him? What gives me pause is my wife flirting with
another man."

His words knocked the wind out of me, and I
sat there, mouth agape, staring at him in disbelief.

"It's like Adam all over again." He spat the
words at me and left the room, slamming the door in his wake.

I sucked in a shaky breath and my mind sped
through memories of my interactions with Striker, searching for
anything that would have given Jake the impression that I was
flirting with the man. I came up empty. There was nothing even
remotely resembling a flirt. It didn't make any sense. Just
yesterday, Jake had defended Striker when I'd been angry with him.
I couldn't keep up with his mood swings anymore.

Daphne whined from the floor, staring at the
last of the turkey in my hand, and I dropped it for her. Meg
crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to me.

"Don't listen to him. He's not making any
sense. You didn't do anything wrong, with Adam or Striker. I'd tell
you if you had."

Her kind words pushed me to the brink of
tears, and I thanked her. She was Jake's sister; her loyalty was to
him, not me. I knew I'd done nothing wrong, but it felt good to
have her validation. What didn't feel good, however, was Jake's
insecurity.

I let myself cry for a few minutes before
splashing water on my face and giving myself a pep talk in the
bathroom mirror.

"Ready?" I asked Meg.

"For what?"

"I want to find Jasper and get some answers.
And I also want to find the guy with the other dog and get his take
on things."

Meg looked apprehensive. "I don't know, Emma.
Jake was pretty clear about us not ruffling any feathers. Do you
think it's a good idea?"

"Who said anything about ruffling feathers?"
I asked her, a mischievous smile spreading across my face. "I just
want to get to know some of the residents. You know, be neighborly
and all that crap." What I didn't add was that if there was
anything below board going on here, I wanted to find out. I was
definitely glad to be off the streets, but I wasn't ready to hand
over my trust and roll over obediently just because someone told me
to.

Chapter 19: Lambs to the
Slaughter

Before descending the stairs, I leaned over the
railing and looked at the hall below, happy to see dinner was over
and there were only a few women milling around doing cleanup. When
I passed the landings to the third and second floor, I found many
people gathered in the common rooms on each level. A few looked up
as we moved by, and I noticed a few scowling in our direction, but
mostly people smiled politely.

"Well," whispered Meg, "at least it will be
easy to spot Mack's supporters."

"They'll be the ones giving us the evil-eye,"
I replied.

We stopped in front of the large grandfather
clock. The antique timepiece towered more than a heads-length above
me, and was intricately crafted in a dark mahogany. Its white face
read five-thirty, which left ninety minutes to kill.

Daphne caught site of the other dog before we
did and she squirmed to be let down to investigate. I didn't dare
let her out of my arms this close to the tables for fear of
reprisal, so we passed by the area quickly and stepped onto the
back patio.

The sun set much earlier in the winter
months. The fiery orb hung low in the sky and reflected off the
water, serving as a backdrop against the man and his dog. Standing
at the end of the boat dock, the man faced the water. His left arm
hung at his side and patted the head of the German Shepherd seated
beside him in a scene I'd expect to see on a Hallmark card with the
words Thinking of You in cursive script across the top.

The dog's ears twitched in our direction,
alerted by our footfalls across the paved area, and he nudged his
master's outstretched hand in warning. Both turned around and
regarded us with quiet reserve. I saw a tan patch on the man's
upper arm that looked like a law enforcement emblem.

"Ow!" Daphne used her claws to dig into my
chest. She launched herself from my arms and darted the remaining
distance to the other dog. She stood in front of the sleek black
animal and barked, though her tail was wagging. The dog still just
sat there waiting for its master's command while Daphne sniffed its
legs and chest. I feared for her, one bite from those massive jaws
and it was game over.

Finally the other dog got tired of her
yapping and planted a paw on her back, pinning her to the ground.
She yelped in surprise and cried to be let up.

"Leave it," said the man, and it let go of
its hold on her. I jogged the final few feet and apologized for my
rude dog.

"I'm so sorry about that. Daphne's pretty
strong willed."

"Not a problem," he said, bending to show her
some attention. That's one thing I've noticed about dog people. We
always greet the animals first.

"Who's this?" I asked. My hand was held out,
palm up about a foot from the dog's face. When I was younger, my
dad used to train police dogs, and he drilled it into me to never
shove your hand in a dog's face. I waited for it to come to me.

"This is Boss," he said and took one hand off
Daphne to pat his own dog at the same time. "Okay." He gave the dog
the release command, and Boss padded over to me and sniffed my
outstretched hand, giving it the lick of approval.

"Hey there, Boss." I reverted to baby talk
whenever I spoke to dogs, and he responded with a husky bark.
Bending at the knees, I brought myself down to his level without
putting my face too close to his; another thing my dad taught me.
Dogs are unpredictable, and I liked my face. I didn't want anything
chomping down on it. Boss closed the small gap between us and
panted happily as I scratched behind his ears. Then he knocked me
over and attacked with a barrage of kisses as I giggled and tried
to hide my face from the slobber.

He repeated the same warm greeting with Meg
and when Daphne was tired of the man, she went back to trying to
engage Boss to chase her. Boss looked expectantly at his handler,
waiting for his command. "Go," he urged, and the dog took off down
the dock with Daphne trailing behind yipping excitedly. The two
played on the grassy area within view. Boss was smart and knew he
needed to be gentle with her, and he frequently looked back at his
master to ensure he could see him at all times.

"I'm guessing you're a cop, and Boss is your
partner," I stated as he helped me to my feet.

"You guessed right. Corporal Tom Sweeny,
Naples PD."

Meg and I returned introductions and we
walked back, sitting down at one of the tables to watch the
dogs.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here,
Corporal," I started.

"Call me Tom," he interrupted. "Titles don't
mean much anymore."

"Okay, Tom," I continued. I tried to find a
tactful way to ask my question, but as usual, I failed. "Is Mack a
huge asshole?"

"Emma," Meg warned. She gave me a stern look
that said be careful.

Tom laughed at my delivery. "Pretty much,
what you see is what you get."

"Damn, I hoped I was just reading too much
into things. Everyone just follows his lead?"

"Like lambs to the slaughter." He shook his
head, not pleased with the status quo either. "Most of these folks
are scared and desperate. They need someone to tell them to wipe
their ass."

The dogs loped over to where we sat, tongues
lolling from exertion, and Boss curled up at Tom's feet. The dog's
posture was relaxed, but his eyes and ears remained alert, scanning
the area constantly. Instead of jumping up in my lap, Daphne
snuggled against the big dog and let out a long sigh of contentment
that made me smile.

"Aw, Daph's made a friend," I said.

She opened one eye at hearing her name but
closed it again and nuzzled closer to Boss.

I wanted to ask Tom to share his story, but I
held off. Most, if not all of us, had horrific experiences, and I'd
discovered early on that asking about it wasn't an efficient
icebreaker.

"What do you think about the whole dogs eat
outside thing?" I prodded.

"Heh," he laughed. "I'm just fine with it.
It's the only real alone time I get around here."

"Sorry, it doesn't look like you'll be having
much alone time anymore," I replied. "I've been banished to the
kids table with you."

"So long as it isn't one of the cronies, I
can deal."

Meg had sat quietly, observing the
conversation, but having seen an opening, she chose to join in.
"What can you tell us about Asylum?" she asked. "Is it really the
last of our government?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Without knowing
what's really going on out there, it's hard to tell what's truth
and what's fictionalized to suit their needs."