Lipstick & Zombies (Deadly Divas Book 1) (12 page)

Gerri went home that night with her own song stuck in her head. How many people could say that?

The next day was just as busy. She kept expecting there to be a lull where she could rest. It didn't happen. Once they made their way through the morning workout, which Gerri barely remembered because she'd been basically asleep through the whole thing, it was straight to the gym with Noah.

Weapons training in school was not like weapons training with Noah. In school they'd been taught the basic ways to take down a zombie, the benefits of blunt versus sharp weapons, and how to avoid being bitten. It was everything they needed to know before entering the military, where they'd be taught to use guns. Gerri had shot a gun once, and they'd given her some handouts to study in school, but that was as far as her knowledge went. It was rare to see a gun. Working guns were sent to the wall, and even then, they barely had enough ammunition and working weapons for the military. Since the Deadly Divas were going to be trying to recruit people for the war, she'd assumed they'd be given the best guns to be symbols for what a good soldier looked like. Noah didn't have a single gun in his weaponry.

"Why?" Gerri asked again.

"Because you're not real soldiers," Noah said. "And because even the real soldiers have the problem that they keep shooting each other."

"Accidents happen," Gerri said. "I don't see why we're being punished for their mistakes."

"Accidents, right," Noah said. "Putting a knife through a corpse is effective. If you were ever out there in the real world, you could run out of amunition, and then where would you be? This is valuable stuff you're learning here."

"Out in the real world? Where do you get this stuff? I'm never going to be out in the desert. Joining this band keeps us out of the draft without having to get pregnant."

"Do you want to look like a badass?"

"Yes."

"Well you're going to look a lot more impressive taking down a zombie with this," he held up a machete, "than by shooting a gun from across a stage. A good shot is great, but it's quick. You're in the entertainment business now. Get used to it."

"I'm in the gross business," Gerri said.

He didn't say anything else about it at that point, because he knew that Gerri was right. If people could just get over themselves and accept that, things would be so much easier.

Today he had them smacking dummies around. They each had their own, and he'd set a timer each round. Somehow, they had to destroy the head. The dummies were all attached to the same metal pole in the floor, and wiggled back and forth and all around as they came at them, stilling for brief moments to trick them into complacency.

They were in the third round. Sadie had just thrown her knife and missed. No matter what Noah yelled at her, if she wasn't throwing knives, she wasn't interested. Dee had kicked her dummy so hard it had fallen off the pole, down on top of her. She was shrieking for help. Carrie was going over to assist, since she hadn't been doing much of anything anyway. She said it felt silly to try and smack a dummy's head.

"Enough," Noah yelled. "Time to test what you've learned."

"Of course," Carrie said. "Because we were doing so well with the dummies."

"Line up."

"Always no-nonsense with Mister Smiles," Gerri said.

"God, please never give me a nickname like that," Sadie said.

"You best behave then, honey."

Noah emerged from the room of corpse cages, his abdonmen covered in padded armor and a helmet encasing his whole head.

"Oh, now that's a look," Gerri said, and Sadie and Carrie both laughed. They were like Gerri's own personal laugh track. It didn't take much. "Don't you all just want to roll him down a flight of stairs and see if he'd come out okay?"

"Good," Noah said. "Since you're so inspired, you're up first."

He was trying to intimidate her. She rolled her eyes, to let him know what she thought of that, and stepped forward, ready to go.

"I'm going to start this timer, and we'll see how long it takes you to get in a kill shot."

"Am I supposed to rip off your helmet?"

He tossed her a pair of gloves, which she caught at the last second. The palms were covered in red paint. "Seriously? I'm not going to slap a zombie's head to kill it."

"Scared you can't handle it?" he taunted.

"Fine," she said. "Not because you goaded me, but because I'm a very agreeable sort of person." That set off the giggle twins. "I am!" They laughed harder. "Oh, whatever." She sighed. "If I get this paint on me, you're going to pay for it."

He made a big show of hitting the button to start the timer. She went straight for his head, so he put up his arms to block her, like she knew he would, and she kicked him hard in the junk. She was pretty sure he had a cup on, but he still yelped in pain and bent over himself on the ground. She walked over and slapped him in the head. "Dead," she announced, and walked over to stop the timer. "The timer doesn't really work if no one's there to stop it."

They got an hour break after that, complete with french fries, and lemonades, and carrot sticks with different dressings for dipping. She'd have to remember to kick people in the balls more often.

Surprisingly, he picked up his little test right after the break. Sadie went next, but he confiscated her knife, and announced that if it wouldn't work on a zombie—like kicking it in the balls, when they don't react the same way to pain—then your time was disqualified.

"What a sore loser," she said, and glanced down at his crotch. That got a glare out of him—guess she'd broken through his cool veneer after all.

Sadie hopped around like a rabbit. If he were a zombie, Gerri thought it would have been really clever. She was confusing the enemy. An old corpse would have a hard time tracking her. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm, quicker than an old corpse would have been in Gerri's opinion, and jerked her arm backwards, knocking her off balance.
Not a cool way to treat the crippled kid
, Gerri thought,
hitting her where she's weak
, but as Sadie fell to the ground she smacked the side of his head with her free hand instead of putting it behind her to soften the fall, getting in the kill. Dee clapped, and the rest of them joined in. It looked like it hurt like a bitch, falling flat on her back like that, but Sadie didn't even flinch. Girl was fierce as a corpse.

Jo was up next, no break this time. She didn't hold her hands out flat to slap him, but kept them in tight fists. When he reached for her, she ducked down and to the side. The third time, she punched up into his padded suit.

"I'm a corpse," he told her, a reminder to go for the head. Her jaw tensed, and she kicked a leg out faster than anyone else could have—including Noah. She took hold of the arm he'd had out and twisted it back behind him. Before anyone knew what was going on, Noah was on the ground, she had one foot digging into the back of his shoulder, and his arm twisted straight behind him. He was screaming worse than when Gerri had kicked him in the balls, possibly because she wasn't letting go.

Dee stepped in and put a hand on Jo's arm. Jo jumped, like she'd forgotten the rest of them were there. "You still have to put the paint on his head," Dee gently told her. Jo let go of his arm, touched her palm to his head, and stepped away from Noah. His arm was limp and covered in red.

NOAH

A dislocated shoulder wasn't that bad of a thing in Noah's line of work. Tammi would disagree. In fact, she was disagreeing very loudly.

"They're never going to get this down."

"That's not fair," Noah argued.

She pinched two fingers together and zipped them in a line in front of him, like she was telling him to shut his mouth. "They broke your arm. Your defense of them in light of that makes you sound like a crazy person."

"My arm is not broken," he said. "My shoulder's dislocated."

"You're in a cast!"

"I have a sling, for a few days. The doctor said I'm fine."

"See!" She turned to yell at Willa, who was characteristically unimpressed. "They sent him to a doctor!"

"Tammi."

"No, Marvin. This is it. We need new girls. It's not too late."

"We need girls who are willing and able to fight the undead," Marvin said. "They're going to have to be rambunctious."

"Rambunctious," Tammi scoffed. "We need good dancers. They're not getting it."

"Is this true, Tamara?" Willa asked. "What is the problem with their dancing?"

Tammi's stiff shoulders softened. "They can, they just aren't
trying
."

"Attitude problems are to be expected," Willa said.

"Tammi makes the most progress with them," Marvin said. "They only sass her so much. I've been leaving it to her."

"Thank you for your confidence, but getting them to stop playing around is not the same as making them work the way they need to."

"I disagree," Noah said.

"Of course you do," Tammi said.

"I think they need to play around some. I don't know why. Maybe it makes them feel safer. Maybe they just like to have fun. But I do think they're picking it up. I think they're going to have it together once we put them to the test. I framed fighting me as a test, and here's my shoulder."

"Perhaps," Tammi said.

Willa tapped the edge of her phone. "It's interesting that everyone is complaining about these girls but you, Noah," she said. "Either you're not a complainer and a bit of a glutton for punishment, or you're right, and these are the right girls for what we're doing here." She slid her phone into her bag and looked around the room. "It'll be interesting to see which it turns out to be, hmm?" She rose from her chair. "The final music video rehearsal is in three days. That will serve as your test, Noah."

"Trial by fire," Tammi said.

"It's what they signed up for," Willa said, as the door closed behind her.

"Somedays I get the impression I'm the only one who doesn't want to see these girls dead."

"That's not fair," Marvin said.

"I know, I know," Tammi said. "Sorry, Marvin."

He suspected that was Tammi's way of saying Noah was not excluded from that statement. If she was done fighting with him, he had nothing left to say, and a music video rehearsal to prepare for.

His office was the perfect refuge. He pulled up the videos from that day's lesson. He could see what Tammi meant. They weren't trying as hard as they could have been. They'd reacted to his dummies with either boredom or silliness. But if Willa's original dream for the band could work, and he believed it would, then these were the girls to do it. These five girls were fun and full of life, the perfect force to take down their exact opposite. The people would see that, and they'd be inspired. Eventually. He was sure of it. Ninety percent sure of it.

He checked the time. The band should have been home by then. He video-called Gerri and asked her to gather the other girls around the phone.

"Are we in trouble?" Dee asked.

"I wanted to have a talk."

Dee rolled her eyes. "We should not be in trouble. You're the one who told us to fight you! You should have to take some responsibility for that, you know? If you get hurt, or even if we get hurt, that's not really our fault, is it? You're our teacher! Safety is your job!"

"I agree one-hundred-percent," Noah said.

Dee was taken aback. "Well, good."

"I should have made something clear when we first met," he said. "I haven't explained what we're doing in our training."

"Fighting zombies?" Dee asked.

"It's more than that," Noah said. "Choreographing fights is about the entertainment value for the audience."

"We know that," Sadie told him.

"It's also about precision and safety. These fights have to be poetry—graceful, with a beauty that is precise, while also allowing for improvisation. Everything must appear intentional to the audience. All of this is put together to tell a story. In the music video we've been practicing for, we're telling the story of girls who can take down corpses on their own, but who are stronger when they work together as a group. I believe that's an important story to tell. Are you ready to tell that story with me?"

"Wow," Gerri said. "Gritty guy talk pretty."

"Swoonable," Dee agreed.

"Yes," Sadie said. "We can do that."

"Of course," Gerri said. "Geeze, Noah. You sure now how to get all dramatic when you want to."

Jo stepped out of the frame, ignoring him like she'd done at every opportunity since he'd first seen her. He was dying to know how she wound up in the band. He'd kill to know how she was, or just to have her look him in the face. But she didn't want anything to do with him; she'd made it perfectly clear when she'd flipped him onto the floor. She'd always been a better fighter than him, and had no qualms with letting everyone know. He was surprised she hadn't announced it to the class the first day. That was his first real clue that she wasn't the same.

He had to believe that, given enough time, everything would be okay. That's how things were with Jo—she got all mad, she didn't tell you why, and then one day, things were fine again. He just had to wait it out. He was sure of it. Eighty percent sure of it.