Robin’s car wouldn’t start.
Knowing Jekyll was getting away, I banged my fists on the dashboard and steering wheel (careful to avoid hitting the horn). I tried the ignition again, and the Pro Bono Mobile’s engine made a valiant attempt, like a little dog trying to jump over a gate but unable to get enough oomph. I flooded the engine.
So I sat back and waited, counting out a full minute, forcing patience upon myself, even though Jekyll was driving farther and farther with every second.
Finally, I tried the key again, listened to the starter whir—and the engine caught. A belch of blue-gray smoke curled up from the exhaust pipe. Now I was on my way, and although Harvey Jekyll had a head start, I was sure I knew where he was going anyway.
Since he might have noticed me following him too closely, the forced delay worked to my advantage. The gloomy drizzle became a full-blown rain as I drove away from the factory, and the puckered old wipers did little more than smear water and smashed bugs across Robin’s windshield. But I managed to see well enough.
I headed out to the Metropolitan Pre-Used Resource Depository, turned into the gate, and rolled forward along the dirt entrance road, where I saw a set of fresh tire tracks in the mud and gravel. Partway in, I pulled over in a small turnaround surrounded by piled garbage. Since I intended to surprise Jekyll in the act, I didn’t want to drive too close. I switched off the car and pocketed the keys, hoping the old Maverick would start again when I needed to leave. Right now I wanted to creep up and use my phone camera to snap images of Jekyll illegally disposing of toxic chemicals. Although I couldn’t prove what the drums contained, I doubted Jekyll had the required municipal permits.
Up ahead, I spotted the blue JLPN pickup truck parked next to Mel’s trailer. The rain had slacked off to a halfhearted miserable mist. Big Mel was unloading the two drums from the back of the pickup while Jekyll supervised. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
While Jekyll fidgeted, Mel chatted away as usual, waving his hands. His folding lawn chair was out in front of the trailer door, with a book spread open on the seat. He’d been reading outside in the late-afternoon rain. Zombies don’t mind the damp, even though the weather can be hard on books.
When Mel had wrestled the two chemical drums off the pickup bed and onto the ground in front of the trailer, Jekyll pulled out his wallet and extracted a handful of bills, which Mel pocketed—talking all the while. He wrapped his arms around the first drum and began to drag it off to one side.
Taking pictures of everything, I felt like a predator closing in on a long-awaited kill. A thrill ran through me. Illicit chemical drums, an obvious payoff—and not by a JLPN minion, but by the CEO himself! When added to the silver Grand Wizard ring, this was more than enough for us to force a decent divorce settlement. In fact, it might be enough to bring down JLPN, or at least oust Harvey Jekyll from the company. Unfortunately, that would probably put Brondon Morris in charge, which wasn’t necessarily an improvement, and if we destroyed Jekyll Lifestyle Products and Necroceuticals, Miranda’s divorce settlement wouldn’t be worth much. I would have to be careful about this.
Nevertheless, I snapped more images. Mel continued his cheery, constant conversation with Harvey Jekyll as he moved the first big barrel. He paused to pop open one of the caps on the lid and sniff the contents. He gave a big, dumb smile.
Alarmed, Jekyll shouted at him, which startled Mel. The big zombie slipped in the greasy mud, and the drum rocked from side to side, nearly tipping over. Some of the fluid sloshed across Mel’s chest.
While Jekyll looked appalled, Mel laughed it off. He brushed the stain from his shirt … and his eyes flew open, as if a hard candy had lodged in his throat. Mel stared curiously at his hand—which drooped like a wilting flower. Then his fingers fell off. His skin ran like melted wax down his arm, and a hole began chewing its way through his shirt where the chemical had soaked in.
Dropping all caution, I stuffed the phone in my pocket and raced toward my friend. I didn’t care about hiding any more. “Mel!”
Jekyll whirled in panic. Mel turned toward me with an odd, abandoned look on his face and collapsed in on himself, flopped to the ground, and disintegrated into a mound of shapeless tissue.
“You bastard, Jekyll! What did you do to him?” I’d already seen other victims melt down and knew it was too late for Mel. But now I had proof positive that Jekyll was behind the epidemic. I grabbed my gun from its holster and ran up to Jekyll.
For a little guy, he was surprisingly strong. He shoved the chemical drum over, dumping the fizzy blue chemical onto my legs, my shirt, my chest. I felt the cold sliminess of the strange fluid, and I knew damn well what it would do to me. I’d just watched Mel collapse and do his best blob imitation. Within seconds, my flesh would drip off, my bones would fall apart, and I would become an un-undead.
Although I didn’t remember anything about being dead the first time, I had no wish to return to the grave. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting Robin and Sheyenne through the grieving process all over again.
Suddenly I realized that I was not, in fact, disintegrating. The fizzy blue chemical might have stained my suit, but my undead body was still functioning as well as a few minutes ago. I was too stunned to be thrilled by the fact.
Jekyll dove into his pickup and started the engine. The tires spun, kicking up mud and gravel as he accelerated. I didn’t have time to wonder why I wasn’t joining Mel in the glop brotherhood—I had to stop Jekyll from getting away.
I placed myself in the middle of the dirt road, but Jekyll didn’t hesitate. He gunned the engine and came straight at me. Being brave, or just stupid, I stood squarely in front of the truck, and the pickup knocked me flat into the mud. The truck roared over me … but the tires missed my body. The undercarriage passed mere millimeters above my face, and the truck roared off, slewing back out of the dump and onto the main road.
I lay sprawled on my back in the soft muck, and eventually I pried myself out of the puddle, reminded of the last time I’d crawled out of the grave. I was drenched, muddy, and humiliated, but not overly damaged.
Saddened and angry, I sloshed over to my friend’s shapeless remains that were spreading in all directions like a red-and-yellow amoeba. In my jacket pocket, the camera phone was mud-smeared but still intact. I looked for a clean swatch of fabric so I could wipe off the lens. I definitely had the evidence I needed against Jekyll—and I was going to nail him for a hell of a lot more than a divorce settlement.
On Mel’s lawn chair I saw one of his self-help books, soaked by the rain. Mel had always tried to better himself, to do his best despite his circumstances. The book was titled I’m Dead, but I’m OK. He’d made it only to chapter two.
Poor Mel. What remained of my heart went out to him, just as when I’d seen Sheldon Fennerman staked to the brick wall of the alley.
Garbage rustled in the giant mounds surrounding his trailer, and I saw gleaming black eyes, pointed snouts, and spiky brown fur as three gargantuan rats emerged from hiding, whiskers twitching as they quested the air.
They came closer to the pile of ooze and let out plaintive squeaks. Rover, Fido, and Spot—he had named them, befriended them. These oversized rodents were misfits through no fault of their own, just as Mel had been. They looked at me now, as if expecting me to make everything better again, or at least to explain. I had nothing to say, not to giant rats, not to anyone.
I patted each creature on the head, trying to console them. “You’ll do all right here for yourselves. You’ve got all the garbage in the world as your home.”
But that didn’t help Mel.
No matter what, I had enough cold evidence for a long list of criminal charges against Harvey Jekyll. McGoo wouldn’t hesitate to take action, I knew that. He’d be perfectly happy to wrap up the prominent case of the melting unnaturals and get a gold star in his personnel file, although it would take quite a few stars to get him reassigned outside of the Quarter.
The chemical drums were still here just in front of Mel’s trailer, but I wasn’t going to touch them. I had no idea why the dissolving substance had left me intact while it had disintegrated Mel, but I didn’t intend to give the stuff a second chance.
I wasn’t going to give Harvey Jekyll a second chance either.