“Angel, I have your back,” said a calm male voice from behind me. How the hell was I supposed to help him…or stop him? I felt my own lips pull back in an answering snarl. His hands curled like claws as his eyes snapped to mine, and to my dismay I saw nothing of Philip in them. I didn’t want to get tranqed myself, and I was more than happy to leave him to deal with the neutralized Roland. Turning, I quickly lost myself in the crowd.
This was the asshole who’d stepped on my hand out at the boat launch. The man with the tranq gun lowered it, and I got another start of surprise. He took two more steps and then crumpled onto his face. Yet before Roland could close the distance, a stocky man wearing a shirt lettered “Security” lifted a gun and fired with a familiar whuuush sound.Ī yellow tuft bloomed on Roland’s chest. I knew there was no way I’d be able to intervene in time to save the crew member. With a roar, he charged one of the camera crew who was trying vainly to restore some order in his little corner of the fiasco. Saliva strung from the corner of his mouth and his eyes shone with madness.
His head swiveled from side to side, lips curled back and teeth snapping together repeatedly. He didn’t have any makeup on, and he didn’t need it. I shoved an extra dressed as a rotting cheerleader out of the way, then breathed a curse as I caught sight of Roland, the other Philip-made real zombie. More extras grabbed at me, but thankfully, they only seemed to have a touch of the full zombie strength and speed, so a few well-placed kicks and elbows got me past them. I gave her one last dubious look, then continued to weave through the seething crowd.
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