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It was almost too easy by now. Stalking the prey, feeling the tingle on his skin, the hair rising along his arms as he got close, waiting until they were alone and pulling out the injector. This guy was older, short and skinny, so that helped. It was easy for Major to lift him, laying him out on the couch while he carefully prepped the scene, trying to make it look like a robbery as well as a kidnapping, spray painting the walls with anything he could think of. Anything to make it look like this was a vicious, violent attack rather than a precision strike carried out for a specific reason. He didn't even know this guy—maybe someone did have a reason. But Major didn't want to see some random relative's life ruined by suspicion any more than he wanted to actually have to kill this rich old zombie, so he made things seem as generic and as much like the random violence of the modern age had invaded the man's house as he could.
He tossed the body in the trunk alongside the filled garbage bag he had already prepared, and drove a circuitous route to the storage facility. He was pretty sure Max Rager wasn't following him, so it was probably an excess of caution. On the other hand, they were probably tracking him electronically, either by his phone or by a bug in his car, so maybe he wasn't being cautious enough. He had tried this before a couple of times, and so far neither Rita nor Vaughn du Clark had said anything to him. And what would they say? Slap his hand and tell him to get the zombies out of the freezer and kill them? At least he would have bought some time.
It had been a long time, hours, at least, of driving, before Major reached the bridge he had done his dumping from before. If they were watching for him, it would be here, he reasoned. On the radio, the news announcer described the scene they had found, the chaos and the graffiti. Apparently the police actually did suspect some kind of anti-corporate group of having done it. One step of the plan successfully carried out, at least, he thought, lifting the lid of the trunk and lifting out the garbage bag. He had been careful to weight it down so it would fall as heavily over his shoulder as if the body were in it, and he placed it on the ground by the railing and shot it in the head before hefting it over the bridge just as he had the others. Just as if the real zombie wasn't fast asleep in the trunk next to the cans of spray paint and the empty space where the garbage bag had been.
He watched until the garbage bag disappeared into the water, relieved when it did so. He had been afraid it would float.
For a moment, Major stood there, holding on to the bridge rail. Was this his life? Kidnapping zombies and making it look like they were murdered before he went home and didn't sleep with the zombie he loved? How had he gotten here?
And would he get away with it? The very real threat to Liv's safety was never far from his mind. If du Clark hurt her …
But that was why he was doing this, so Liv would be safe, he reminded himself. He got into the car and drove off, another long way around, taking back roads and narrow neighborhood streets until he was sure no one was following him, until he figured anyone tracking the moves of his car would be bored and not bother to look too closely at his eventual destination.
Pulling up in front of the storage unit he had rented, he left the car's lights on so he could see what he was doing, and lifted the body out of the trunk, carrying it over his shoulder inside the building. The room was full of mannequins, having been rented previously by a football buddy of Major's who had tried to start up his own sportswear line and lost his shirt. Major had taken the rental of the storage unit off the guy's hands on the condition that it stayed in his name, letting his former teammate believe Major was hiding wedding presents that he couldn't bear to get rid of but couldn't stand looking at, either. They had parted with the mutual satisfaction of being able to pity the other person for a fool. Always a day-brightener, that feeling.
In the back of the storage unit was a chest freezer, chosen by Major for its sturdiness and size. He lifted the lid and hefted the body into it, on top of the other two. He looked at them for a moment, wondering if they dreamed in their frozen state or if they had no consciousness at all. Not too long ago, he would have given anything to have no consciousness. But now … now he had Liv back again. And if this was the price of keeping her—he would pay it, and gladly.