They tromped through the slushy parking lot and hurried into the cold Jeep.
“I hope for your sake the wedding’s today. I don’t think you can handle another sleepless night of the pre-wedding jitters,” Luther jabbed as they rode off.
“Wait. I forgot my tux?” Justin freaked.
“It’s right here where you put it.” Dean pointed to the seat next to him.
“Ella’s dress—”
“Yes. And the veil. And the shoes. We’ve got you covered.” Dean chuckled.
Justin’s fingers clutched the bottom edges of the Jeep’s front seat while Luther drove through the slushy snow-melt. The shady patches of the country road were still gnarly with ice. At one point, Luther had looked back at Dean in the backseat like he was ready to go back to the resort. Dean waved him on.
“Dude, I didn’t know snow lasted so long,” Justin rambled out of nervousness.
“Just have to let Mother Nature run her course without the modern conveniences of snow plows and whatnot,” Dean said.
“Back in Ohio, we’d get lake-effect snow. It was a bitch. All the snow was the main reason I hauled my black ass to California,” Luther reflected.
“I do recall a few hellish blizzards myself, growin’ up in Las Cruces, New Mexico,” Dean said.
“All this snow freaks me out. I’ve lived in Central California all my life—until now. It’s like you didn’t even notice the weather. It was either hot or not,” Justin said.
“So, what’s the plan, my man?” Luther asked. “Where do you and Ella plan to live once you get hitched?”
“Duh, with you guys,” Justin quipped.
“Truth is, Luther and I’ve been mulling things over. My arthritis doesn’t take kindly to this cold climate. With the food supplies getting scarcer by the day, we need to grow a year-round garden. And, with a baby on the way, I’m thinkin’ we need a better stronghold. Happen to know just the place. My cabin in Winters,” Dean announced.
“What? Back to California?” Justin’s voice went up an octave. “Dude, Brother Michael said everyone’s going to Texas. They're calling it the Last State?”
Dean ignored him. “I’d be pleased as punch to live out the rest of my days in my own neck of the woods.”
“What about you, Luther?” Justin asked.
“Anywhere but Texas,” Luther balked.
“Dude, Texas can’t be that bad. I mean, compared to Zs.”
“Ain’t gonna do it. Been there and done that. Can’t change the way they think. And, I can’t change the color of my skin, now can I? Besides, did I mention how much I hate tornadoes,” Luther said.
“Things are way different now,” Justin countered.
“Some things never change,” Luther said with a hard note in his voice.
“Guys, I was going to tell you later. Ella sorta wants to go to—Texas. Brother Michael said we could live normal lives there.”
Luther mumbled something under his breath and turned down the compound road a little too fast for the icy street.
“We’ll sort things out. Later. You’re getting married. It’s plenty for a fella to worry about for one day,” Dean said reassuringly.
“The gates are open—they must be expecting company,” Luther announced.
“We’re only like two weeks late,” Justin spouted sarcastically. “Ella’s gonna be super pissed.”
“She’ll probably give you a big smooch.” Luther laughed.
“Don’t see any guards.” Dean sounded worried.
“Ye-ah, they eat a super-sized breakfast every morning.” Justin sprang out of the Jeep and sloshed his way in the muddy, melting snow to the infirmary. “Ella, we’re here!” Justin half-ran and half-slid across the infirmary’s waxed floor. The bed in her screened-off room was empty. “Ella? Anybody here?” The entire building was empty.
“Guys,” Justin shouted from the doorway, “ask Father Jacob where she is.” They ignored him as usual. So, he joined Dean and Luther in the compound’s courtyard.
Dean and Luther eyed the place questionably. “You notice anything off-kilter?” Dean whispered.
“Yup,” Luther stated.
“Guys, you’re freaking me out.” Justin glanced around the compound nervously. “Where are their vehicles?”
“Father Jacob’s cabin was empty,” Dean announced solemnly.
“Ditto for the mess hall,” Luther confirmed.
“We’d better do a building-to-building search. Best we stick together. I’m gettin’ a mighty peculiar feeling about this,” Dean said, reaching for his crowbar.
Justin didn’t like Dean’s tone. “Duh, they’re probably decorating the church and stuff. You know Ella. She’ll want it perfect,” Justin said, shaking off the weird vibes he was getting. He took off for the church.
“Justin—” Dean called out.
Justin opened the church’s front double doors, expecting a room full of foofoo decorations. A sickening stench flooded his nostrils, followed by moans. He staggered back. The room was full of Zs! The horde jerked around. Their hideous, ghoulish faces made him gag. They lumbered and hobbled and crawled with extended arms—for him.
Justin slammed the doors shut just as the first wave body-slammed the other side. Luther rushed to his aid, bracing his back against the doors, all three-hundred pounds of him. The hyperactive horde kept body-slamming the doors. How long could they hold it back?
“Haul ass to the Jeep,” Luther grunted through clenched teeth.
“What about you?” Justin waited for the next impact.
“I’ll buy you a couple of seconds. Tell Dean to back up the Jeep.”
Another jolt knocked Luther forward. The splintering of wood haunted the morning. Justin didn’t need to tell Dean. The Jeep’s reverse lights flashed on. Justin scrambled into the backseat behind Dean.
“C’mon!” Justin shouted to Luther.
Seconds later, Luther scooted into the backseat next to him. Dean muttered something and floored the gas pedal. The tires churned in the slush, sliding around in the icy mud. A wacky thought occurred, like a light bulb flickering on and off until it got his attention: Ella would never leave the church without telling him. No freakin’ way!
“Back in a sec.” Justin slipped out of the car on the opposite side of the approaching flashmob of Zs.
“Hell’s bells!” Dean shouted.
Justin ducked behind the Jeep and then darted behind the church. He shot a glance back. The Jeep spun around in a semi-circle, knocking over the horde like some wonky Xbox bowling game: Bowling for Zs. He couldn’t stop envisioning the commercial of bug-eyed Zs trying to jump over bowling balls. Three strikes is a zurkey!
He snapped back, thinking how super pissed Dean probably was. Justin was dying to know if Ella left any clues to what had happened. Unless, she had been one of them—in the church. What if Father Jacob had been in the middle of one of his cultish sermons when the horde attacked the church? The rest of the congregation must have escaped. She’s alive. I know it. Justin ran back inside the infirmary to her partitioned area. He threw open the drawers to the unpainted-pine nightstand next to the bed only to find a Bible. He checked under the bed. Nothing.
“Ella, where are you?” he screamed to no one.
Anguish took over. Justin threw himself onto the patchwork-quilt-covered-bed, smashing his face into her pillow. The horn blared, blaring for him. He forced himself off the bed and tossed the pillow aside. Something caught his attention. Probably the tag. He pulled on the paper. A note! The horn blared again. Justin dashed outside.
The Jeep spun around, stuck. The weight of all the Zs swarming the vehicle wasn’t helping. Justin yelled obscenities to the Zs. Evidently, they didn’t hear him. Dean and Luther were trapped inside the Jeep, and it was all his fault. Everything—was always his fault.
Justin reached for his gun, letting off several rounds in the sky. “Holy shit!” He got their attention all right. Zs popped off the Jeep by the dozens, jerking their scuzzy, rank bodi
es toward—him. He shoved the note into his pocket and ran back inside the infirmary, not bothering to close the door, luring the horde away from Dean and Luther. He made it to the back of the rectangular building. “Really, no back door?” He flung a chair through the window on the first try. A split-second later, he jumped through it, landing on all fours onto the snowy-muddy ground. The Jeep’s tires churned in reverse, spraying a stream of slush. Justin slipped around unable to find his feet as the Jeep backed toward him.
Luther hopped out of the Jeep, hauled him by his belt, and hurled him into the backseat. “You want to get us all killed?” Luther shouted and leaned out the backseat window, taking aim. Several Zs had followed Justin out the window and had already reached the Jeep’s rear bumper. They were fast like the Super-Z they’d encountered in California.
Dean struggled with the steering wheel, maneuvering the Jeep through the slush. Finally, the wheels caught. They skidded off, sideswiping a sentry post as they departed the compound.
“Son, you wanna tell me why you went and did an idiotic thing like that?” Dean didn’t sound so good—didn’t sound like Dean at all. Dean suddenly slumped over the steering wheel. The Jeep slid off the road, slamming into a tree. None of them were wearing seatbelts, and they lurched forward with a loud boom. Luckily, they hadn’t been going fast.
Justin scrambled out to check on Dean while Luther let off a string of shots, de-activating the bumper-clingons.
“Dean, what’s wrong?” The words stuck in Justin’s throat.
“My shirt pocket,” was all Dean managed to say.
Justin patted Dean down and came up with a bottle of pills.
“Give me two,” Dean rasped.
Justin and Luther exchanged frantic glances while Luther reloaded.
“Give me a minute,” Dean panted, trying to catch his breath.
“A minute—we don’t have.” Luther’s voice wavered, and he carried Dean to the backseat.
Justin turned around. The rest of the frenzied horde surged through the sentry’s gate. They’re coming! That’s when it dawned on him. All the Zs wore the same freaking grim-reaper robes. They were—had been Father Jacob’s people. Holy shit!
“Good God Almighty.” Luther wrestled with the Jeep’s smashed-in hood that had popped open in the crash.
Justin rushed into the backseat next to Dean. “Are you sick?” Justin glanced back at the horde. “Dude, hurry!” Justin yelled to Luther. They needed the Jeep. There was no way they could outrun the horde, not with Dean’s condition.
Luther gave up on the hood and jumped into the driver’s seat. “That’s it baby, come to Papa.” Luther finally coaxed the engine into turning over.
They sputtered along at about five freaking miles per hour. Was it fast enough? Justin kept looking back at the Zs reeling after them and then to Dean crumpled next to him while Luther drove with his head hanging out the window to see around the hood flopping against the windshield.
“Did we—make it?” Dean faltered, his face ghostly white.
Through the rear window, Justin watched the horde’s decaying bodies shrink smaller and smaller. Justin let out a burst of air. How long had he been holding his breath?
“Yea, baby,” Luther ranted. “We’re scot-free!”
“Justin, you’ve got some splainin’ to do,” Luther garbled.
“Guys, I’m so, so sorry. I had to see if Ella—”
“It looks like Father Jacob’s congregation was overtaken by the horde,” Luther snapped.
“Ye-ah, I get that,” Justin snapped back. “How did the horde get inside the church in the first place?”
“Better yet, who closed the doors, trapping ’em inside?” Dean whispered.
“All the vehicles were gone,” Luther reminded, driving into the skid as the tires struggled to grip an icy patch. “Meaning—someone escaped.”
“So, Ella’s still alive,” Justin said, waiting for agreement. Or had she been one of the Zs in the church? Ella, I know you’re all right, he shouted internally.
“I love you,” a faraway voice echoed in his mind.
He remembered the paper he had shoved into his pocket. Slowly, he pulled it out, desperately wanting to see what it said and yet afraid to. What if it said something he didn’t want to know? Something he couldn’t bear to know?
He felt something hard attached to the paper. One of the pearl earrings Scarlett had helped him pick out for Ella’s sixteenth birthday was pierced into the paper with the back attached so it wouldn’t fall off.
His vision went blurry as he reread the note.
Justin,
If you’re reading this, please don’t hate me. I had to go with them. Our child is one of the Sacred Thirty-three. It has been preordained. Only Father Jacob can save our baby’s soul from the demons. We’re leaving for Texas before the blizzard snows us in. Father Jacob is guiding the chosen ones on a mission to build the New Earth. You’ve got to believe me. After you left, Father Jacob told me I’d never see you again. He’s wrong! We will see each other again. I don’t believe everything he says. But some things are true. All I know is, if I don’t go with them, our baby dies. I left you the pearl earring. Never forget me! I’ll love you forever . . .
Ella
“Son, what’s that?” Dean pointed to the paper shaking in Justin’s hand. “A letter from Father Jacob? Don’t tell me Ella lost the baby?” Dean clutched his heart.
“Was she one of those in the church?” Luther whispered.
“Far worse.” Justin couldn’t talk. He simply handed the note to Dean. She went to Texas without me. Intentionally. The pain stabbed at his heart—the cruelest pain ever.
Dean returned the note misty-eyed. Justin met Luther’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Something I need to know?” Luther parked the Jeep in front of the resort’s gate. Dean handed the note to Luther, and Justin opened the gate.
After Justin locked the gate, he ran to Dean and Luther. “I don’t care what you guys say. I’m going after Ella.” He caught Dean and Luther eyeing each other.
“Now, son, we need to work out a reasonable plan—” Dean started, his voice weak.
Justin cut him off. “I already know you want to go home. And Luther doesn’t want to go to Texas.”
Dean leaned against the Trav. “You know I couldn’t live with myself if we don’t try to find Ella. Every night I have to live with the fact I couldn’t protect Scarlett. It kills me,” Dean nearly pleaded.
“You can’t go. Period. Why didn’t you tell us you’re sick?” Justin was pissed.
“Let me see that pharmaceutical bottle.” Luther read the bottle. “Who the hell is Peter Fraser? And what is Nitrostat?” Luther asked.
“Truth is, I hadn’t planned on mentioning it since everyone seems to have plans of their own,” Dean finally admitted.
“You’re dying! And you didn’t tell us?” Justin accused.
“Not as serious as all that. According to the nurse, it’s most likely angina. The other day, he gave me two bottles from the compound’s medical supplies.”
“You should have told us,” Justin scolded.
“How bad is it?” Luther’s brows furrowed.
“It is what it is. How’d an old fella like me make it this long, anyhow? I’ll tell you what, I’ll go down swingin’ my crowbar if that’s what it takes to find Ella,” Dean wheezed with a vengeance.
“Count me in,” Luther said, high-fiving Justin.
“I thought you didn’t want to go to Texas?” Justin was surprised.
“Who says I’m going to Texas. I plan on finding Ella before they get there,” Luther said.
“You guys are the best friends, ever.” Justin didn’t know what else to say.
Dean nodded and offered a faint smile. “How’s about we go inside, put our heads together, and come up with a gameplan?”
They helped Dean inside. The three of them gathered in the resort’s lobby and stood around for an awkward minute.
“I’ll make us a pot of coffee. Uh, can you have coffee?” Luther asked.
“Beats me. But I sure could go for a cup of joe right about now.” Dean let out a long sigh and plopped into one of the lobby’s chairs.
Justin felt blessed for having such fantastic friends. It made him think of Scarlett. He should be more grateful; friends could disappear in a blink of an eye. Justin tiptoed around Dean and gently covered him with a blanket.
“I’m not an invalid,” Dean grumbled with a slight smile.
With hot coffee to warm them up and jolt their brain cells, the three of them started brainstorming. Luther stood next to the whiteboard, scribbling their ideas down as they listed the possible scenarios.
“Hold on a minute,” Luther clamored, interrupting Justin’s train of thought. “Didn’t you say Father Jacob wanted all four of us to join his congregation?”
“You mean, cult,” Justin corrected.
“It’s been bothering me as well.” Dean shook his head in apparent disgust.
“What are you getting at?” Justin asked.
“The part where only thirty-three are going to Texas,” Luther said.
“Tell me if I’m missin’ something in the translation. Do you really think all four of us met their Thirty-three criteria? Hell, when’s the last time any of you went to Bible Study?” Dean said in a tone above a whisper.
“What are you guys saying?” Justin’s head was spinning with disbelief.
“What I’m saying is this.” Luther paused with furrow brows. “Father Jacob was adamant about us joining his clan, knowing all along only thirty-three people were going to Texas—”
“Which means, that charlatan of a bible thumper intended on killing us off from the get-go,” Dean finished.
“Which means the people in the church are the ones who didn’t make the cut—” Luther left the sentence open-ended.
“Guys, that’s twisted.” Justin wanted to puke.
“You got a better interpretation?” Luther asked.
“Sure, what if a horde attacked during Father Jacob’s sermon?” Justin said, talking off the cuff.
“You missed the part where they dressed the horde in those Quaker robes,” Luther butted in.
The Hunger's Howl Page 8
