The Stalker Called Zombie

1. Zombie

ONE

ZOMBIE

This can’t be happening. The thought pounded through my brain as I raced to the sanctuary of my lab. Away from Ricci, away from my team, away from my crazed thoughts about my best friend being dead.

All I wanted was to tell Arrow about what had just happened at RSS, but now I couldn’t.

He was gone, gone like my breath that left my lungs. Gone like the wind through the trees.

Gone.

Not only had I just found out the biggest secret of my life, but I also couldn’t tell the one person on this Earth who I knew would take it to the grave and not look at me differently.

My mind replayed the conversation with the notorious Anthony Ricci also known as “Butcher,” as I swiped my ID badge.

There he’d sat, bound and bloody. The man who had personally orchestrated so much loss, grief, and pain. The epitome of evil. He was responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity, and he’d just given me the one piece of information that would break me.

The scene replayed on a loop in my brain, no matter how much I tried to stop it.

“How’s your mother doing? Do you know I’m your father, Dante Ricci?”

“You are NOT!” I barked out.

Ricci chuckled, showing off his bloodied teeth. “That’s where you are wrong, boy. How do you think your mother was able to afford that beautiful home in Texas and pay for all of your schooling? Medical school isn’t cheap.”

My mind was spinning. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that this could be true. Then again it always did amaze me how my single mother was able to keep up with a lavish lifestyle and make it so I didn’t have any student loans when she was living off of a librarian’s salary.

Ricci kept going. “Now your wheels are turning. I can see it in your eyes.” He paused while the information sank in. “Your mom insisted you have her last name, but it should have been mine.” The last word was sharp on his tongue.

My fists tightened until I thought my fingers would break.

“My blood, my heir,” Ricci said triumphantly.

Heir. Heir to his sick and twisted throne.

“You’re lying,” I bit back, seething with anger.

“You will do well in my place. Especially if you want answers. Sarah has all the information, since… Well, as you can see, I won’t make it through this.” He nodded down to his battered, bound body while ignoring my accusation.

I was going to throw up. There was no way I could be the product of someone as evil as he was. There was no way that I could believe him.

“Rot in hell!” I seethed.

Ricci cackled once more. “Anger. Good. Keep that, my boy. You’ll need it for what is to come. And trust me, there’s so much I have planned for you.”

I stuck him with a needle and grabbed the blood vial that I had on my tray of tools next to me.

This blood would be more valuable than I’d ever imagined.

Not only could I put his DNA into my database for all of the murders that had been going on but I could also test it to see if he was actually telling the truth.

After I was finished drawing the blood and administering a sedative, I rushed out of the interrogation room and ran past my team. Nausea washed over me as the contents in my stomach sloshed, ready to be released.

I made it outside of RSS before almost passing out.

As I leaned against the building's exterior wall, panting, I closed my eyes and reopened them, hoping this was a nightmare. But I didn’t wake up.

I needed answers. I needed facts. Facts and data I could trust far more than just words. Especially his words.

But what if he was telling the truth? What if I was in fact Anthony Ricci’s son?

I walked into my autopsy lab, the smell of chemicals and chill of the freezers providing solace for my racing mind, but my thoughts soon returned to what my potential sperm donor of a father had just told me.

I braced myself on one of the empty metal examination tables and tried to ease my erratic breaths.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” I gasped. I needed to calm down and let my logical brain do what it did best, find facts.

My heart hammered in my chest. It had been a long time since I’d had a panic attack, but I recognized the symptoms as they flooded over me: ringing in my ears, labored breaths, tunneled vision.

I pushed off the table and swung my arm through a line of neatly organized instruments that lay on a table next to me. My tools clattered to the floor, piercing the silence of the lab.

I fell to my knees and fisted my hands into my hair, letting out a scream.

A scream for my grief, my pain, and worst of all, my loneliness.

I knew I would need to tell my team this secret if it were true.

But I had to be sure before I rocked my very foundation of my life.

This secret was too big to keep inside. But I needed the facts.

I needed the results. Results, results, results.

Ricci had a knack for always being a step ahead of us.

We needed to act now that Sarah, his protégé, was running things, since we were unsure what she was capable of or what she had planned.

It was now time to find out if Ricci had been telling the truth or not.