Chapter Twenty-Six

Addey didn’t wake to the phone ringing or the alarm clock’s buzz, but instead to the knock at the door. She checked the digital clock. It was six in the morning. She wanted more rest. She was sore everywhere, especially around her legs and shoulders.

The knock came again, this time more adamant.

“Give me a second,” she insisted, trudging out of bed. She opened the door to Cynthia Wells, the woman who had called for help when she was near death. “Oh, it’s you.”

Cynthia invited herself in, closing the door swiftly behind her. “Good morning.” She was all business. “I assume Richard’s talked to you. We’re working on a team now.” Her eyes veered from Addey as if ashamed. “You’re the bait, by the looks of it.”

It was the first time somebody other than Richard explained her role in things. “Bait?”

“You’re the only one the vampires could possibly want, according to Richard. You uncovered their hideout, and they’re pissed at you. I’m not worried, though. I’ve got your back. And I know you can handle yourself.”

Cynthia fished out a baggie from her pocket. “Here’s some Tylenol with codeine. Take three twice a day. It’ll ease your pain. It’s not the best, but it’s all I could finagle.”

Addey swallowed a dose of pills dry and almost choked on them. Cynthia laughed when she heard Addey gag. “Hey, you don’t have to be tough around me.”

Embarrassed, “Yeah…sorry. I should’ve had a glass of water.”

“I’m scared, if it makes you feel better. Richard hasn’t been this spooked for a long time either. He takes communication lockdown seriously. The island is on the chopping block. Everybody’s in trouble.”

Addey brushed her hair and teeth. “Richard’s old team are missing and presumed dead, right?”

Cynthia acknowledged the truth. “I’d still rather be on the inside of things. You’re the one who’s got it tough, anyway. The vampires probably got your number.”

“It’s only been two days I’ve been on the island, and I’m already a target. What do I have to lose? I might escape this place, or I could stay here forever. I’d prefer dying in the process of escaping than being a slave to this place.”

Cynthia changed topics. “Okay, to business. I’m the shift manager of both the third and first floors. You’ll be floating between jobs. I deal with the vampires and the level-one zombies. The level-one zombies are harmless. You’re going to be a server for them today.”

“A server?”

“Food, drinks and comfort—it’s easy. You’ll see. It’s the best job in the place.”

Her stomach lurched thinking about being in the presence of dead again. “They eat flesh, don’t they? Or is there something grosser they eat?”

The woman gave her a soft smile. “No. They eat normal food. They’re friendly people, but they’re a health hazard. If they’re not chemically treated, they could turn into level-two zombies, and that’s when they become very dangerous.”

“What do you mean they chemically treat them?”

“They resurrect themselves from death hours after burial, but if we hurry, we can keep their flesh in a state of freshness—especially preserving the brain is important. It’s ironic what chemicals they use to keep them fresh. It’s like an advanced embalming fluid and saline solution. They sleep in cryogenic chambers, so half the time they’re not exposed to the elements or susceptible to rot.”

Cynthia checked her watch, suddenly remembering the time. “We should get a move on. Breakfast is soon for these guys. They wake at seven thirty sharp. And they’re damn hungry.”