So I kept watch over the activity from the outside. The day was dark and overcast, and the temperature had dropped enough that if I’d been warm-blooded, I would be shivering. The drizzle wasn’t enough to amount to anything, but it did make the world a clammier place.
The factory seemed much quieter than it had been last week. Apparently, the new-release Fresh Loam products had been shipped and distributed to apothecary outlets and beauty parlors across the Unnatural Quarter. The shift whistle blew, and fifty human workers filed out of the factory, pulling on jackets and carrying lunchboxes as they walked to cars in the parking lot. I stayed put, guessing that the interesting stuff would happen after the normal activities had ceased for the day.
Sure enough, in less than an hour, Harvey Jekyll emerged through a side door of the admin building and scuttled to the motor pool, where he climbed into a blue open-bed pickup truck. He backed up to the loading dock, climbed out, scurried up the stairs, and went back inside. With a clatter, he returned, pushing on a hand truck an unmarked metal drum, which he loaded into the back of the pickup. Wiping sweat from his wrinkled forehead, he brought out a second drum.
I was surprised that the head of the company would do the heavy work himself. Surely Brondon Morris would have been happy to lend a hand, though it might have stained his loud plaid jacket. After securing the pickup’s tailgate, Jekyll swung into the cab and drove off.
I was smiling inside as I whispered, “Gotcha!”
Revealing that Harvey Jekyll was the Grand Wizard of Straight Edge might have been embarrassing for his company, and now I’d have proof of his secret dumping of hazardous chemical waste. That was more leverage than Miranda could possibly need.
As Jekyll’s pickup passed through the automatic sally-port gate and headed off down the road, I ran back to the rusty Maverick, intent on following him.
Chapter 38
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.