"And I was worried about explaining Monica Trevgard's sudden crisping. Jeez..." If he had any doubts as to her sanity, she couldn't hear it in his voice. Maybe he had seen too much on the streets to be fazed by anything life threw at him now. Or maybe he was just humoring her while he called the men with the white coats on the spare line.
"How do we deal with these people?"
"I'm told the only way to stop them is to break their necks."
"So I'm supposed to order my men to break the necks of a couple of dead women?” His voice was scratchy with either disbelief or amusement. Maybe both.
"There's no other way to stop them.” She glanced anxiously at her watch. Three o'clock. Time was running out for Jake. She had to move.
"Maybe.” Disbelief was stronger in his voice this time. “We'd better meet at the hospital. Ten minutes?"
"Ten minutes,” she confirmed and hung up.
She stood and looked around the room. While she still had the silver knives down her boots, she wasn't so sure they'd be a deterrent against the zombies. And her wrist knives certainly didn't worry them. Jake had a gun locked in the safe, but would that work any better than a knife? Could a dead person be killed by a gunshot? What was that old rhyme? One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight...
What about salt? Michael had said it was useless against zombies, but thrown into their eyes, it would stop them, if only briefly.
She walked across the room and opened the small cupboard under the sink. Jake had a fetish for extra salt on his chips, so there had to be some in here somewhere. She moved several jars around, eventually finding a large shaker. For good measure, she grabbed the pepper and shoved both in her pocket. Then she retrieved her keys from her desk and ran out to the car. MacEwan was waiting for her at the hospital, leaning against the side of a car almost as battered as her own. Two other officers waited near the hospital's main entrance. She knew there would be others guarding the remaining exits. When MacEwan did something, he did it properly. She stopped her car beside his and got out. “How many men do you have?" He exhaled a long plume of smoke, then dropped the rest of his cigarette, crushing it under his heel. “Six, two men guarding each of the exits."
Six men, plus the two of them. Surely it was enough? “Have you been inside?" He nodded. “Just to let the staff know what's going on."
She stared at him. “You told them about the zombies?"
He snorted. “I'm not a fool."
"And your men?"
"They've seen pictures of the missing women. I've told them to expect the unexpected.” He shrugged. She knew then that he didn't really believe he'd be confronting zombies. “You ready to go in?” he continued.