Zombie Raccoons & Killer Bunnies (26 page)

He talks. Did I mention that?

At any rate, a few hours ago, we’d been attacked by people . . . animals . . . who also talked and who clearly knew more about Wan than I did. One of the rats had bitten through my finger, hence the visit to the ER.

Slamming the door had not been the best idea, since Itty and Bitty, my poor little white dogs, had been cowering under the seats in the back. They scrabbled up, put their feet on the window, and howled for attention.

My cowardly fat white Westies, who tend to fart when under stress. I opened the rear passenger door and petted and cooed over them for a minute, paying attention to the slash on Itty’s nose. The possum had gotten her at one point in the fight, but it was only a slight scratch. I got them calmed back down, shut the door, and headed around to mine.

Wan was standing on my purse when I heaved my weary body into the driver’s seat. He stood at the summit, his sword over his back, his arms crossed over his chest. “We should stay and talk with the learned doctor, Kate.”

The doctor also seemed to know more about what was going on than I did. I sighed, looking at the ambulances. “Wan, he’s going to be busy for quite some time. I want to go home and take a shower.”

“He possesses knowledge that we do not have,” Wan argued. “Why do we leave a potential ally behind us?”

“Because my hand hurts,” I snapped. “Because I’m filthy and tired and the dogs are scared.” I struggled with my seat belt using my bandaged hand. “Because that nurse said that the doctor would be working on those accident victims for hours. Because I’m not drinking that hideous coffee, and because . . .” I snapped the belt in place and turned to glare at Mr. Holier-Than-Thou Talking Mouse. “Because I don’t know who is friend or foe until you tell me what the hell is going on!”

Wan glared right back, and I promised myself that if he told me to be one with my pain, I was going to pitch him right out the window and drive off.

The damn mouse looked away. “You hold the keys, honorable lady.”

I jammed them in the ignition and started the van.

What a surprise. There isn’t a lot of traffic on the expressway at four in the morning on a Saturday.

Who’d a thunk it?

I pulled out of the hospital grounds and headed up Monroe Street toward Douglas. I’d take the expressway home. Wan sat silent, which was fine with me. I needed to think.

It had taken me aback when the ER doctor told me he knew my injury was from a ninja rat bite. Believe me when I say that I hadn’t put that down on any forms. He’d taken pains to make sure the nurse didn’t hear him, too, come to think of it. I narrowed my eyes as I pulled onto Douglas. His steel gray eyes had been sharp, sharp enough that he had probably known about Wan hiding in my purse.

But did that mean that I could trust him?

I turned onto the entrance ramp to the expressway, chewing my lower lip. Well, hell, I was trusting a talking mouse, wasn’t I? And I hadn’t exactly asked him for ID, had I?

My front window was fogging up, so I reached for the blower dial. Cold air flowed over my feet before I could get it set on defrost. We’d be almost home before it warmed up. I shivered and set the cruise control at sixty-two. The last thing I needed was a ticket.

My hand throbbed as I tilted the rearview mirror to look at the dogs. They were sound asleep on the back seat, exhausted, poor babies. I adjusted the mirror back with a wince. There were lights in the distance behind us. Far back enough not to worry about just yet.

I pulled my injured hand back and rested it on my chest, steering with my left hand.

“We should not return to the house,” Wan stated firmly. “They will be waiting for us.”

I sighed. He had a point, but I didn’t really want to hear it. “All right. I’m too tired to argue. A hotel, then, but we will have to smuggle in the dogs.” I sighed and checked the rearview mirror. If a hotel would let us in. I looked like hell. The lights behind us were getting closer. They were coming fast. Looked like motorcycles out for an evening cruise.

“Perhaps we could shelter in the home of a friend?” Wan asked carefully.

I stiffened. This was a sore point, and he damn well knew it. When I’d given up on my dreams, my fantasy writing, I’d walked away from friends who shared those dreams. Gamers, writers, dreamers, and geeks, I’d cut them out of my life. “Oh sure,” I snapped. “I’ll just show up with bloody slippers, dogs, a talking mouse, and they’ll be glad to—”

The rumble of a gunned Harley cut me off. I glanced at the rearview mirror. The motorcycles had caught up with us, about twelve from the looks of things. They’d surround us, then pass as they—

Movement caused me to glance out my side window. A big Harley, a Fat Boy, had pulled up even with the van. I glanced at the tank first, seeing the logo, then noticed the rider’s leg looked . . . odd. I looked up and gasped.

“KATE!” Wan shouted beside me.

The rider was a rat, a giant rat, riding a Harley and glaring at me through its ninja mask. With a big white ugly possum perched on its shoulder. The possum caught my gaze and gave me an open mouth hiss, waving its walking stick.

I swerved wildly.

The bikes all swerved with me, moving as if we’d rehearsed it. The rumble strip complained as my tires hit and I jerked the wheel back, frantic to stay on the road.

The dogs started barking, not sure what was happening but sure they could scare it away. The bike in front of me put on its brake light, and I hit the brake as well, instinctively.

“No, Kate,” Wan urged. “Do not stop.”

“But . . .” I said.

“It will put us at their mercy, of which there is little.” Wan’s voice cut like a knife. “Go!”

Wan may be small, but that command made me jam my foot on the gas. The van leaped forward, and the biker swerved to the side, then gunned it to stay in front of me. The ninja rat driver turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark, beady, and vicious.

I swallowed hard. “How did they get so big?” I asked in a whisper.

“Magic,” Wan said.

Duh. I risked a quick glare in his direction, but the little snit was back down on the seat, digging in my purse, pulling out my cell phone and the doctor’s card. “Call 911,” I said.

“And what do I say?” Wan asked as he opened the phone.

He had a point. I gripped the steering wheel with two hands and focused on the road. The bikes kept weaving around me, trying to drive me off the road, but I hung on grimly.

Then the one in front apparently decided to clip me, and I saw my chance. Big mistake on his part. No amount of magic was going to stop me. He swerved in front, and I gunned the van.

She did me proud, surging forward just enough to clip his rear fender. The rat wiped out, barely avoiding my front tire as he and his bike hit the pavement and slid off. Metal screamed and sparks flew as the bike and the rat slid away.

Bet that ninja outfit was a whole lot of protection.

But even as I gloated, the one by my window moved closer. I had a brief glimpse of the possum hefting up its walking staff and—

THWACK

Tiny cracks blossomed in my side window.

That started the dogs howling, dancing in the back seat, and farting for all they were worth. I swore and swerved again, pressing on the accelerator, but the rats stayed right next to the van.

I glanced down at the speedometer. Sweet mother of—Where were the police? Normally I’d have a small army of Toledo PD on my ass waiting to write me six tickets for going this fast. But noooo—never one when ya—

The possum jumped on the hood.

One little claw grabbed the windshield wiper, and the other held that damn staff. He was grinning that toothy grin again, chanting something muffled by the glass. The staff started to glow. Not good, not good. I panicked. I wanted him off the glass, off the—

I hit the washer.

Blue fluid squirted up under his chin. WHAMP went the wipers, and the possum went flying off to the side, with any luck possum pie by the road.

One of the ninja rats lunged and caught him by the tail just before he hit the ground.

My heart was pounding in my throat. For an instant, the possum was swinging from his tail, spitting out washer fluid and pointing at me. Then with a flip, he landed on the back of the rat, and they fell away from the van, moving over a lane. They all did.

“Wan,” I said nervously. “Wan, I think . . .”

Wan was talking into my phone excitedly in what sounded like Chinese.

“English, Wan!” I shouted. The possum was gesturing at the front of the van, and pointing at the—

BHAM.

The front tire blew.

The dogs were howling, Wan was howling, hell, I was probably howling, but I didn’t care. My only focus was to control the van, and my teeth rattled with the effort.

The nosie was terrific, the rubber from the tire flying in every direction. Sparks fountained up from the rim, and my poor old minivan was steering like a dead cow. With metal screaming, and the hot smell of rubber and dog farts, the van went off the side, over the brim, and down to rest at an angle off the road.

The air bag exploded, punching me in the face. The silence was eerie as it deflated, and I unwrapped my hands from the wheel. “Is everyone—”

CRACK

The possum shattered my window.

I covered my head instinctively as bits of safely glass exploded into the van. I could barely hear Wan over the howling of the dogs, because I was completely focused on the rat snarls as they reached for me. Their claws sank into the arm of my bathrobe and my flesh as they tried to pull me out through the window.

Sorry boys, my fat middle-aged butt wasn’t budging. They could tug and pull all they wanted—

One of them reached in and opened the van door. A sharp blade appeared and sliced through my seat belt.

I fell out onto the ground. The rats grabbed my robe and dragged me away from the van through the wet grass. The dogs howled, and I had just enough time to pray they stayed in the van when I was dropped to the ground.

I looked up to find myself surrounded by man-sized ninja rats. The possum perched on one’s shoulder, glaring down at me. I took a deep breath, then wished I hadn’t. That possum wasn’t man-sized but he still stunk to high heaven. Ugh.

“You have offended, fat one. Now you die.”

The rats all pulled daggers.

Er. I blinked up at him, confused. What about threats, rantings, that kind of thing? I mean, really . . .

“She dies, you die.”

We all looked to see Wan standing on the seat of the car, backlit by the dome light of the minivan. Wisps of fog were gathered around his feet. He had his sword out and pointed at the ninjas. “Move away from her if you value your lives.”

It would have been very impressive had he been more than a few inches tall.

The rats chuckled, and even I smiled. Wan looked so earnest, standing there with his sword in his hand.

“She dies,” the possum laughed. “And then we beat the information out of you, traitor.”

Okay, not so funny now.

I leaped up, dodged one of the rats and hit the possum right on the snoot. Impressed?

The only problem is it didn’t happen that way. My middle-aged fat body wouldn’t leap up for nothing. So I did the best I could. I kicked one of the rats right on the shins. Smartly.

He dropped his knife and clutched his leg. Some ninja.

All eyes were focused back on me. “Kill her,” the possum snarled.

Wan squeaked his battle cry and darted forward, but that whole man-sized rat thing was working against him. I tried desperately to crawl away, my robe catching under my knees. The rats laughed, my cowardly dogs howled from the van, and I was sure I was dead.

One rat grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over, his teeth and knife gleaming. He was bringing the knife
up to plunge into my stomach. I watched in horror as the gleaming blade arched over me.

There was a crackling flash, a stench of sulfur, and one dead rat falling down on top of me. The lightning caught him right in the chest.

I scrabbled back, trying to get out from under the smoldering, twitching corpse without throwing up. As my legs slipped clear, more bolts shivered over my head, seeming to almost hang in the air before striking the rats. I pressed myself flat to the grass and risked a glimpse.

It was the doctor from the ER.

He looked taller somehow, his white lab coat glowing and his stethoscope swinging wildly around his neck. The street lights reflected off his high forehead, and his long gray ponytail swung behind him.

He looked damn fine, to my way of thinking.

The fact that he was standing with both feet firmly braced as he flung lightning at the rats with ease also worked for me.

The rats were diving for cover, throwing themselves to the ground to hide behind the motorcycles they’d left scattered around.

The possum went for my van.

I felt the pressure of tiny paws on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. “Stay down, Kate. I will protect you.”

“The dogs,” I screamed, trying to climb to my feet. My slippers slipped on the grass.

The doctor heard me. With a flip of his wrist, he sent a bright blue ball our way, floating, zeroing in on us like a missile. It zipped past my shoulder, and for a brief moment light flared around me. When it faded, I was pinned under the weight of a man-sized mouse, standing on my back.

Needless to say, the rats were focused on the doctor, their tails lashing, hissing, regrouping to attack him. I’d be okay. “Wan, please.” With what little breath I had, I begged. “Save my babies.”

Wan hesitated, then to my utter relief charged the van, sword in hand, his battle cry more impressive now. The possum had climbed in the driver’s seat, but his head turned to look at the angry man-sized mouse charging his way.