Yes! We made it. Now what? She looked at Twila blankly. They were headed for a ranch somewhere on the outskirts of the safe zones. She wished she knew more about Texas. Well, they don’t call it Texas anymore. It had been dubiously renamed Last State. From what Zac had told her, Last State was more of a government-controlled society, highly protective of its Elite citizens. Everyone else was just a worker bee to keep the Elite hive buzzing.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Twila’s golden-tinged skin had gone pale.
Twila crawled to the stallion and ignored her, which gave Scarlett time to concentrate. The afternoon sun told her they headed west toward the New Mexican/Texan border infamously known as Zoat. Zoat was a huge man-made moat filled with creepers, as she called those once human creatures with their insatiable appetite for human flesh.
Zoat surrounded Texas’ revised borders where it was feasibly possible, except for the coastal areas. Its purpose was to keep out the hordes, rogue militias, and illegal immigrants. A formidable flash of insight warned it was more like living on the wrong side of the Berlin Wall. Keeping people in as well as out.
According to her citizenship orientation during quarantine, Zoat didn’t adhere to Texas’ original state line borders. They had extended their borders to include parts of New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Louisiana. No one had stopped them. Because, the United States of America no longer existed.
Scarlett couldn’t believe the government had resorted to such dystopian anarchy. Women had lost their rights and were treated more like property. Machine guns were mounted around every corner. They obviously hadn’t developed a cure for the Super Summer flu. She questioned why the Silver Lady had insisted she bring Twila there. If this was the safest place left on Earth, she didn’t see how humans had a chance.
After what seemed like hours, the truck turned onto a dirt road. “Be ready to run when I say it’s time to go,” Scarlett said when the truck slowed. She tried the trailer’s side door. Unlocked. She only opened it an inch. Unfortunately, it was on the driver’s side.
“Onyx doesn’t want to live here.” Tears clung to Twila’s lashes.
Jeez, Twila had already named the horse? “It looks like we’re stopping. Are you ready?” Scarlett asked in her mom-voice.
“Mommy, we have to take Onyx with us. He wants us to save him from a very, very boring life.”
“Shhh, it’s whisper time. There’s no way we can ride such a powerful horse without a saddle.”
A voice greeted the truck driver. She tensed. “Hey, Bud. I gave up on you. I heard they sealed off the fairgrounds due to an Infected Incident.”
The truck lurched into park. “Got out of there in the nick of time.”
“I’d say. Stanwyck will be pleased as all get out. You’re just in time for some barbecue. I’ll send the boys to take care of the prize stud.”
“I’ve never been one to turn down barbecue,” Bud remarked, climbing out of the truck.
Their voices faded off. Scarlett peeked out the trailer’s window. The two men walked toward a white mansion. She and Twila could make a run for the back side of the stable, which was only a few yards away from the truck. “Time to go.” Scarlett grabbed the burlap sack in one hand and Twila’s hand in the other.
“But Onyx wants to come—”
Scarlett squeezed her hand firmly. “We have to escape before someone comes for the horse. Keep up with me.” The October early evening had turned chilly as the low-hanging sun dipped toward the burnt-orange horizon.
They dashed behind the large rectangular building. “Here?” Twila gave her a puzzled frown.
“For a little bit. I need to think.”
“We get to sleep with the horseys tonight,” Twila exclaimed with unmistakable glee.
“I think so. But we need to wait awhile. Time to play the Quiet Game.”
Twila forced a silly cross-eyed grimace and plopped onto the ground, pouting. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I know, sweetie. Now be quiet.”
Twila was only seven, although she was years beyond her age in some areas, emotionally she was a bit behind. “I’m starving to death,” she spouted. Danger was beyond the child’s comprehension most of the time.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Shh!”
Scarlett needed peace and quiet to come up with a plan. She sat next to Twila and studied the surroundings. They were on the back side of a rather large set of stable buildings. Beyond that was flat, grassy land. Vast emptiness. There was no place to hide. And worse, she felt naked without her trusty pack of supplies.
Based on the men’s shouts, the horse’s squeals, and all the scuffling, it took several men to unload the reluctant stallion. Scarlett’s nerves were just as rattled as the poor stallion’s when she inadvertently tapped into his anxiety. Twila was right; the stallion wasn’t happy with his new home. Finally, the men settled him inside the stable. From the corner of the building, she watched the men enter the side yard to the white mansion.
The magnificent home reminded her of the one in a western T.V. show her dear Aunt Marge used to watch. The Big Valley? It was so long ago, another lifetime. Melancholy settled in thinking of dear Aunt Marge who had raised her and Cyndi. Aunt Marge had died years ago, but Scarlett had never found out what had happened to her sister. She prayed Cyndi and her family didn’t haunt the streets of Pinole as creepers. Scarlett still hadn’t forgiven herself for not finding her.
Scarlett had more pressing worries these days. She had been given the impossible task of protecting a child. She would never forget that day she had found Twila and Zac in the forest of her bugged-out treehouse in Northern California. Her life hadn’t been the same since. And even though life was nearly impossible without a child, in a way Twila had saved her—saved her from falling into the depths of despair during these desperate days.
Twila had been rather reticent and glum during their quarantine. Who could blame her after having their urine, blood, and saliva tested practically every flipping day? So it seemed. Scarlett had spent their quarantine tutoring Twila on schoolwork and encouraging her with coloring and drawing playtime to stimulate both sides of the brain. It had served as a distraction for both of them.
Twila had been a quick study, seventh-grade level according to Last State’s testing. Scarlett, a grade school teacher in her prior life, had found it a bit disconcerting, for she hadn’t taught Twila several of the subjects she had aced on the exam. Twila was definitely a remarkable child, a child of the New Age. A Starseed, for Twila had chosen this specific mission to help humanity during this volatile time. The Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity was not going well according to the mystical musings of the Silver Lady, whom Scarlett had learned to trust. Believe.
By the time dusk arrived, winds raced across the plains, sweeping the grasslands along with them. Poor Twila sat beside her shivering, huddled under the rough burlap bag. Scarlett hadn’t heard anyone for the past hour or so. She grabbed Twila’s hand. “Let’s check out the stable.”
Scarlett closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and checked her inner vision for trouble. All was quiet. They turned the corner to the long rectangular stable. She peered through a dusty window. The lights were off. Except for the occasional nays and sputters of horses, the stable appeared safe. Although, she couldn’t always trust that elusive sixth sense she had been gifted with since the un-deadly Super Summer flu had swept across the country three summers ago.
“It’s locked,” Twila announced as Scarlett checked the side door.
“That never stopped me.” She had already studied the outside layout. There wasn’t much seclusion on the other end of the stable.
“The window’s unlocked,” Twila interrupted.
Scarlett slid the window up. “Stay here.” She nimbly climbed through the window. After she was sure no one was inside, she rushed to open the side door for Twila.
“All these horseys.” Twila oohed and aahed.
By the fading sunlight filtering through the
skylights, Scarlett made note of their surroundings. Stalls lined both sides of the hallway with steel roll-up garage-like doors on each end. They walked down the wide corridor, greeted by the soft approving nods and neighs of the horses they passed.
Twila tugged her arm when they came to the stallion they had shared the trailer with. “I told Mommy you want to come with us. Don’t worry. She’s still thinking about it.”
Oh, Twila. She was always up to something. The stallion looked more like a racehorse. Muscles rippled over his glossy jet-black hide. She didn’t think they could ride such a powerful horse. Willow, their dear Quarter Horse they had ridden all the way to New Mexico, had been a gentle, squatter horse. A sudden pain stabbed her heart when she thought back to that horrid day, the day Willow had sacrificed herself for her and Twila. The mare’s almost human screams and the pain reflecting from her terrorized eyes still haunted Scarlett’s dreams. She brushed back a tear. Please forgive me, Willow.
Twila visited with her new friend while Scarlett scouted the stable for a place to sleep for the night. This will work. It was a clean, empty stall. If they leaned against the bottom part of the gate-like door, no one would notice them if they briefly peered inside. Now for supplies. She opened the door to a room filled with saddles and all kinds of unfamiliar equestrian equipment. Water jug! She grabbed a tin cup next to it and tested the button. Water. She lugged several saddle blankets, a battery-operated lantern, and the water cooler to their stall.
A vehicle started outside. She darted to the side door. Bud was finally leaving. “Time to go to our room for the night. You can talk to your friend later.”
“Onyx,” Twila said indignantly while she scurried to the stall.
Scarlett arranged the blankets with a growling stomach.
“Mommy, they have lots and lots of food. It’s in the backyard,” Twila said, reading her thoughts.
It was unnerving when Twila read her mind. Even stranger was the fact that Twila knew things. As the child had explained before, Twila didn’t actually read minds. It was more like she tuned into a person’s frequency of thoughts and feelings. Still, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was hungry. They hadn’t eaten since 7:00 a.m.
Scarlett thought about it. Was it worth the risk? Who knew when and where their next meal would come from? She closed her eyes and willed the barbecue area to appear. A hazy scene emerged. Two people next to several long picnic tables cluttered with empty plates, busied over the cleaning. She should leave before they finished clearing the tables.
“Wish me luck.” She kissed Twila on the forehead and handed her the lantern. With the handy-dandy burlap sack in hand, she cautiously crept to the magnificent mansion’s side yard, guided only by the moon’s waning light and her intuition.
The two middle-aged women clearing the picnic tables stopped to chat by the stone-laid barbecue pit. Scarlett peered around the kitchen’s patio door. No one was inside. She snuck into the kitchen. Next to the counter was a wooden crate of apples. She loaded the sack. She snatched one of the loaves of oven-hot bread cooling on the counter.
The clattering of plates warned her someone was coming. Scarlett ducked behind the country oak kitchen island. A woman unloaded a tray of dishes next to the sink and then went back outside. Scarlett scanned the counters. She helped herself to plastic containers of leftover potato salad, baked beans, and something red. It looked like a fruity Jell-O dish. A plate of charbroiled steaks made her stomach churn. She wrapped two steaks in a red-checkered dishcloth. The silverware door jutted out, reminding her. She grabbed spoons, forks, and a knife. That was it. She crept to the kitchen’s patio door. The two women were lost in conversation, complaining about the mess. Scarlett snuck out.
“Ooh, food!” Twila’s golden-flecked eyes sparkled in the lantern’s yellow glow.
“Potato salad and beans for dinner. Apples and bread for breakfast.” Twila was a devout vegetarian. The steaks were all hers.
“Yay, Jell-O,” Twila applauded.
***
Scarlett awoke in a hot-and-cold sweat with Twila curled in the crook of her arm. What had awakened her? A warning? She cocked her head, listening.
A shadowy veil of darkness bore down on her. Suffocating her. They weren’t safe. She dove into her inner vision only to become entrapped in a cosmic void of nothingness. Fiery-blue 3D letters spun around her head. The letters formed into the words AKASHIC RECORDS OF HU-MANITY. The words spun faster and faster, dematerializing into millions of particles until they vanished from existence. Symbolizing the End of Hu-manity.
From what the Silver Lady had explained, every word, silent or spoken, every thought and intent, every action and reaction was recorded in an esoteric Book of Life, the multiverse of souls for all beings. Her vision warned of something far more devastating. A malevolent entity wished not only to obliterate humankind but to delete them from the Akashic Records as if they had never existed in the first place. Who would want such a thing? It was beyond her comprehension.
The Silver Lady had forewarned Hu-manity was in a void state, on the verge of extinction based on the sequence of future events involving Scarlett and Twila’s actions. It did not seem possible. But, the despicable truth resonated deep within Scarlett when the sharp metallic taste of blood cut into her lips. They had to leave. Then she saw it; a search party of white vehicles barreled down a dirt road on a house-to-house search for the runaway bride and child—property of Mr. Millionaire.
“Twila.” Scarlett gently nudged the child.
“Is it time to wake up Onyx? I told him to rest ’cause we needed him soon,” Twila said, perking up.
Scarlett knew better than to discredit the child. If Twila had indeed befriended the horse, it was a sign he was part of the integral Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity, regardless of how preposterous it sounded. With the lantern in hand, Scarlett dashed to the room with the saddles. She grabbed a saddle pad, saddle, halter, and bridle. She knew the basics of tacking up a horse.
She didn’t have time to brush down his shiny hide. “Will you let me saddle you?”
The horse neighed softly.
Scarlett gently smoothed the saddle pad over his back.
“I told you she would rescue you. She’s the best mommy in the whole wide world!”
***
Scarlett hugged the stallion with her legs while balancing Twila in front of her between her arms. The burlap sack of supplies was tied to her waist inside the huge jumpsuit. It was time to find Zac. She had to face the fact she needed his help despite his multiple wives. She knew of no one else.
Ella and Justin had entered quarantine the same day. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been allowed to contact them during their isolation. They could be anywhere. Scarlett couldn’t exactly ride into the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex inquiring about them. The thought made her smile. Ah, but Zac—her groin clenched with the anticipation of seeing him again. Despite her animosity for the egotistical jerk, she longed to melt in his arms once again and forget the dreadful reality of this new ruthless world.
Onyx galloped full speed ahead without any guidance while Scarlett visualized the slip of paper Zac had given her on their last encounter. It was the address to his off-grid home he had jotted down after their rather spontaneous and passionate interlude. How she had cherished that ragged piece of paper until her personal belongings had been incinerated during quarantine. However, the address remained permanently engrained in her memory. She willed the handsome, sleek stallion to see it as well.
Onyx seemed as determined to disappear into the cold and windy October darkness in search of sanctuary—the sanctuary Last State had promised and had failed to provide.
“You must make your own destiny . . .” the wind whispered.
Chapter 2
Dean Wormer reminisced about the good old days as his snakeskin boots clomped along Boom Town’s storefront, wooden-planked walkway. Odd, the exact scene had often visited his dreams back when he had lived in his rural cabin in Winters,
California. At the time, he had chalked it up to a culmination of childhood fantasies entangled with his qualms of mortality. Dean had always been a cowboy at heart. A hankering he had most likely acquired from his early years growing up on his granddaddy’s ranch in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
Dean opened the door to L & D’s Bakery. In all actuality, Luther owned the bakery. However, Luther had insisted Dean become an equal partner. It was probably Luther’s way of keeping an eye on him, making sure Dean didn’t attempt the impossible horde-infested trek back to California. Dean had come to terms with the hard-hearted facts. Boom Town was his home. There was nothing left out there. No friends. No Family. No humanity.
“How’d it go?” Luther asked after he rang up the last customer in line.
Dean nodded. “Better than I thought. Got my price and then some.”
“I knew it,” Luther said.
Dean was pleased with the arrangement. “I let the gussied-up salesman they sicced on me talk up their lousy proposal.”
“And—” Luther eyed him expectantly.
“I politely said, ‘Have to pass on your offer. You all have a nice day.’ And I tipped my cowboy hat and made for the door.”
“I think you missed your calling: The Negotiator.” Luther’s pearly white’s gleamed.
“Not only are they paying us twice what they initially offered, every Tuesday we eat for free,” Dean announced. “So, save your appetite for tomorrow. I want a hunk of charred beef and a baked potato slathered with sour cream.”
“I’d better hire another part-timer. I’m not washing dishes. I’ve been working on something else. I don’t want to be known as the muffin man—”
“That fella who lives on Drury Lane.” Dean attempted to sing his own version of the old nursery rhyme he vaguely remembered from childhood.
“Oh, hell no. I’ve got ideas.” Luther tied on a big white chef’s apron.
“You’ve been holding out on me?” Dean razzed.
“It’s in the testing stages. Back in a few.” Luther scuttled to the kitchen.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State Page 2
