“Uh, do you have a paperback? I’m on a budget.” It looked rather expensive.
He took her to another shelf. “Let’s see, Tom Sawyer, Anne of Green Gables, Peter Pan. Ah, here we go.”
“How much—for all of those?” she blurted, surprising herself. Then she spotted a shelf of art supplies. The drawing paper and colored pencils called to her. Drawing was Twila’s favorite pastime. It was also great therapy. She added them to the stack of books.
He peered down his spectacles and regarded her rather shrewdly in a tense moment. She was sure it would be too much. “In the inner zones, this would run you close to a thousand LSCs.”
“But we’re not in the inner zones?” Scarlett baited.
“Five hundred LS credits and that’s final.”
She only had four coins left. She placed two coins on the table.
He shook his head from side to side.
She was pressing her luck. She firmly stacked Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the pad, and the pencils on the table. Her hand wavered over Anne of Green Gables.
“Shoot, I’ve got more books than I’ll ever sell.” He quickly bagged her items, adding Anne of Green Gables. “Not too many reader types on the plains.”
“Thank you so much,” Scarlett whispered.
The place was suddenly quite busy. Shari probably needed her help. Next time she would check out the other aisles and maybe buy a snack from one of the food trucks. The aroma of various fried foods had her stomach rumbling. She rushed to Shari’s booth in time to help with a crowd of customers.
“Thought I lost you,” Shari grumbled. “We’ll be slammed for the next couple of hours. The first bus just pulled in—complete with armed guards. You mind getting the rest of my inventory?” Shari tossed her the key. “Watch yourself.”
Scarlett jogged to the truck with her coveted purchases. Several limos and an unmarked white Hummer were lined up at the vendor’s entrance. The one Enforcer on duty at the gate kept shouting, “This is for vendors only.” He was tired of saying it based on his aggravated tone.
The vehicles finally drove off. The Enforcer looked her way. Scarlett pointed to Shari’s truck. He nodded and went back to patrolling the lot. She unlocked the camper shell and dropped off her purchases. With strong arms, she gently eased the wheelbarrow to the ground and then loaded it with the remaining products.
By the time she reached the booth, Shari had a line of ten people. Shari grabbed two bottles of Cure-All from the wheelbarrow and gave it to an older gentleman in a white suit and top hat. Odd, the new arrivals were all dressed in shades of white. The women paraded around arm-in-arm with their men and wore outlandish feathery hats as if dressed for the Kentucky Derby. Eccentric, to say the least. Must be the Elites.
Shari didn’t have to say much. Customer after customer made what seemed like rather rash purchases, and then they bustled down the aisle to the next booth, reminiscent of a street fair right out of a steampunk television series. Scarlett had been promoted to scanning the purchases with the Wi-Fi scanner. Ironically, the raggedy-clothed people paid with gold, and the fancy-dressed people only used electronic credits.
Finally, the crowd died down. Scarlett plopped into a lawn chair, starving.
“We’d better eat while we can.” Shari reached into the small Igloo cooler. “I packed apples, a loaf of sourdough bread, and cheese. And there’s a bottle of homemade mustard I traded for. By the way, my weekly delivery man stopped by in need of a bulk order of my Cure-All, which he delivers to his customers. He gave me some generous cuts of ribeye in return. My guests expect a meaty home-cooked meal. There’s one for you as well.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Scarlett smeared a slice of bread with mustard while craving the steak. “What’s in your Cure-All?” Shari kept it under the table, and it had already sold out.
“A little of this. A little of that. But mostly, it’s Indica,” Shari whispered in her ear. “As in cannabis. Which is highly illegal in Last State.”
Scarlett gave her a questioning raised-brow frown.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no drug pusher. I aim to help those in need. As you can imagine with the recent turn of events, Zhetts and Zoners suffer from anxiety and depression.”
“It works for that?” Scarlett was surprised.
“I wouldn’t sell out if it didn’t. Before the End Times, I encouraged my customers to partake in the most misunderstood herb of modern times. I’d say eighty percent of women taking those anti-anxiety and anti-depression drugs only needed a pinch of marijuana to balance them. Instead, doctors doped them up, masking their illnesses, instead of healing them.”
Scarlett still wasn’t an advocate. She had assumed marijuana was for people who wanted to get stoned to forget about their troubles, similar to alcohol. Although, she had read articles stating it helped people with seizures and combatted the pain from cancer treatments.
“I see you’re not convinced,” Shari said. “Think of it in a holistic way. Cannabis helps cope with the pervasive energies running rampant on our planet. These energies attack our dormant metaphysical gifts, turning us into a slave race. Some people just go crazy, hence all those killing sprees we used to have in America. Their poor souls couldn’t handle the attack on the body, mind, and spirit, as they are all interconnected. And those poor souls just snapped.”
Intrigued, Scarlett was about to ask more when the vendor across from them hurried over with two tall glass mugs. “The root beers I promised.”
“Thanks, Gunther. You’re a godsend,” Shari said with the mug to her lips.
“Four buses just showed up. It’s going to be a madhouse,” Gunther warned as he strode back to his booth.
Scarlett took off her jacket. With the sides of the tent blocking the wind, the December sun was surprisingly intense. She took a long drink from the frosty mug. “This is the best root beer I’ve ever had.” It actually tasted like something other than sugar.
“Gunther’s special homebrew recipe. With sarsaparilla, sassafras, and vanilla. Better than the name brands they used to sell in grocery stores,” Shari commented.
Scarlett took another long drink. “When I went to the truck, there was a line of limos trying to enter the vendor’s entrance.”
“They do that all the time. Try to sneak in that entrance to avoid the long wait in the visitor parking lot. I’m more than grateful you came along today,” Shari said between bites. “I used to have a helper. Little Tommy was a no-show at the October market. I hope he found a better job. He couldn’t be more than sixteen.”
A brief image of a teenage boy roaming the plains caught Scarlett by surprise. She brushed it off. “I understand why Zhetts shop here. But why do the people from the city risk it?” They sauntered around like the rich and famous of Last State.
“For the adventure. Bragging rights. A chance to say they slummed it in the Zhetto to impress their neighbors or CitChat friends. Besides, they can’t purchase herbal remedies in the Zones.”
“CitChat?”
“Citizens social media. It’s mandatory. Last State had gone overboard isolating its citizens in order to maintain its strict structure. They must have realized its citizens needed companionship. CitChat’s more like an Orwellian Facebook. No doubt it’s keeping tabs on every Zoner.”
“Mandatory?” CitChat sounded wrong—in so many ways. “What happened to the United States of America?” The more Scarlett learned, the more infuriated she was with the loss of freedoms.
“Oh, don’t get me started,” Shari retorted with resentment. “I prayed I would never live to see it. But we’re living in the End Times. It’s gonna take a whole army of Lightworkers to fix this mess. And I don’t see that happening.”
Shari knew about Lightworkers? Scarlett should get to know her better. A random thought popped in Scarlett’s head. “How does Last State obtain pharmaceuticals?” From what she knew, most medicines were manufactured in other countries.
Shari gave her a hard look. “What
’s the fastest way to clean up the gene pool? Although, there is rumor of a high-security lab. I don’t know if it exists. Zac probably knows.”
The harsh, cold reality set in. Zac had warned Last State wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Why had the Silver Lady insisted she bring Twila there?
“Not that the gene pool matters. I don’t see anyone having babies.” Shari’s aura flickered.
Scarlett hadn’t meant to see Shari’s etheric energy field. She had learned to protect herself from the caustic energies flying around like frantic sparks determined to ignite anything flammable. She had always found it difficult to handle the energies of crowds with so many fearful, hateful, despondent thoughts running amuck. But Shari’s compassion seemed to warrant it.
Scarlett’s inner gaze locked onto the invasive energy strangling Shari’s spirit like an otherworldly python. She sensed Shari’s reluctant acceptance, tolerating its stranglehold enough to live another day. Scarlett couldn’t deny Shari’s internal cry to remove the dark energy embedded in her.
She had helped Justin and Ella on their wedding day. She had also helped heal the internal scar Luther had clung to after the loss of his lover, Sheena. Scarlett constantly worked on Twila, clearing away bad energies that settled in. Since the quarantine, Scarlett had been depleted by an unknown energy. A new unseen enemy. Or perhaps it was the same—the Ancient Ones.
Holding her inner gaze, Scarlett peered deeper into Shari’s etheric field. She envisioned razor-tipped fingernails and carefully snipped away at the ethereal python’s attempt to choke the lifeforce out of Shari. After the first few cerebral cuts, Shari’s spirit burst through. Shari was powerful! She had only needed a bit of help.
Shari gasped. She gave Scarlett a quizzical frown as she held her heart. “Thank you,” Shari mouthed. A sincere smile replaced her frown. How had Shari known she had freed her?
The dark energy hovered in the tent, spinning into the ghostlike shape of a serpent. It reared its head and repeatedly struck at Shari’s aura, trying to reattach. Quickly, Scarlett willed the dark energy to return to the cosmos, demanding it to cleanse and recharge as the Silver Lady had taught her. The dark cloud evaporated into a mist of nothingness.
To Scarlett’s surprise, Shari’s rainbow-colored aura swirled beyond the tent’s ceiling. She had never seen such a brilliant aura, and her mesmerizing energy enthralled her.
“Go!” Had it been Twila or the Silver Lady?
The force of a dagger pierced Scarlett between the eyes. A swarm of blackbirds squawked out the mouth of an erupting volcano, raking her with lava-red eyes. A sudden knowing told her she had unwittingly blown Shari’s cover. Shari had been hiding in plain sight—a sleeper agent in the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity. Was Shari aware of her role? Scarlett dropped the last bite of her cheese sandwich as she struggled against the unknown force to no avail. She slipped—farther and farther. Away . . .
***
A coolness settled in. Scarlett opened her eyes to find Shari dabbing her forehead with a plastic baggie of melting ice cubes.
“I feel awful overworking you your first time at the market,” Shari said loud enough for the curious crowd to overhear. Shari whispered into her ear, “I don’t know what you just did. I feel better than I have—since the End Times. Thank you.”
Shari chattered away, but Scarlett didn’t hear her. She struggled to block the probing. It had found her after all these months. Her usual tricks weren’t working. She visualized leaving her physical body and dove into a cosmic chasm of dark matter. The toxic energy chased her like World War II planes in a battle for the skies, twisting and diving in an attempt to outmaneuver one another.
Unable to outrun it, she blended into the dark energy. The ugly murky streaks of energy shot around from one point to another. Searching for her. But she was one with the cosmos.
“Mommy, danger!”
Scarlett swung her head from side to side. “Shari, we have to leave.”
Shari gasped. “You—you’ve got the Sight?” Shari didn’t seem to doubt her for a second. “Help me with the tent,” Shari said, already rolling the canvas siding.
Scarlett froze. The throbbing pulsations coiling up and down her inner core told her the answer. “We don’t have time.” A metallic taste soured her mouth.
“I’m not leaving without my gold!” Shari slowly turned around and eyed the perimeter as if aware a maleficent force was upon them.
Scarlett didn’t waste time arguing. She loaded the wheelbarrow with the bags of coins. When the screaming started, Scarlett worried it was already too late. “Go! Start the truck. I’ll be right behind you with the wheelbarrow,” Scarlett called out, refusing the fear latching onto her nerves.
Shari tossed the cooler into the wheelbarrow. “You’re scaring me.” Shari’s voice fell flat.
Scarlett delved deeper into her inner vision. What was she afraid of? The Ancient Ones? But this didn’t seem like a vision. It was happening. Now! The horrid Hunger’s Howls sent goosebumps rippling down her arms.
Three booths down, a horde of creepers lumbered toward them. “Everyone! Run!” Scarlett shouted, taking off with the stupid wheelbarrow. She would have left it if Shari hadn’t insisted. Still, she would ditch it if she had to.
The quaint street fair with its over-dressed guests had transformed into a scene from a carnival horror ride. Everyone running. Everywhere. Somewhere between the screams, under the howls, and beyond the fear attempting to cripple her spine, Scarlett swore she heard her name amongst the chaos. Was Twila seeing this? Scarlett looked over her shoulder. Creepers had reached the crowd behind her.
They’re turning!
She turned back around to mow down a creeper with the wheelbarrow. It had spawned from out of nowhere. She shoved the wheelbarrow faster. Automatic gunfire drowned the mayhem of screams and howls. The old Ford truck slid to a stop in front of her. The camper shell’s door bounced open. Shari must have unlocked it. Scarlett tossed the wheelbarrow’s contents into the camper. She struggled with the wheelbarrow for about five seconds. Forget it.
A tall, thin woman dripping with diamonds around her neck and ears snarled at Scarlett with ravenous eyes. Scarlett reached for the knife inside her jacket. Slash! The blade caught it in the neck. Ruby-red droplets cascaded down its chiffon gown. It tripped, struggling to stand in the elegant gown. Scarlett didn’t have time to deactivate it. Instead, she scrambled into the back of the truck. She crawled to the cab’s back window and yelled for Shari to go.
The truck sped off. Scarlett rolled to the camper’s compact door, trying to hang on to something to keep from rolling out. She caught the swinging door and fumbled around trying to close it. But the locking mechanism was stuck in the locked position. She couldn’t close the flipping door. All the while, her internal hearing couldn’t drown out the mysterious pleas shouting her name, bewildering to say the least. “Twila, we’re safe,” Scarlett said internally, hoping to stop the pleas bombarding her.
Through the truck’s rear window, Scarlett spied an Enforcer standing at the entrance as if expecting more limos. Oblivious to the horde. Couldn’t he hear everyone screaming? Shari pulled up behind him, probably to get his attention. He finally turned in the truck’s direction and took out his earbuds.
Then he must have heard the screaming and realized there was a horde on the loose. “Get out of here!” The Enforcer slapped the side of the truck.
Relieved, Scarlett fiddled with the door until she managed to unstick the locking mechanism. A U-Haul truck went careening through the outer row of tents, plowing over everything in its path, including Shari’s tent.
The Enforcer started shooting into the horde. One by one, newly turned corpses collapsed to the dirt parking lot. She knew an innocent citizen had been caught in the crossfire when it reanimated to unsteady feet and pounced the first person within its un-dead hand’s grasp. The lone Enforcer must have realized it was a lost cause, for he made a run for his Hummer.
And then, the tru
ck’s engine died. The whining of a reluctant engine scared her more than the maddening screams. Vehicles flew past their truck; all the while Shari kept trying to start the engine. Scarlett peered out the camper door’s window, deciding whether or not to make a run for the front seat.
Shari finally managed to get the truck started. Scarlett waved off the puff of smoke belching out the tailpipe.
“Get inside,” Shari yelled back to Scarlett.
But Scarlett was confused by another voice. A familiar voice. “Scarlett, don’t leave me . . .” Hmm, definitely not Twila. Where in the world is it coming from? Since the Super Summer flu, she had grown accustomed to inexplicable voices running through her mind. It definitely was not the Silver Lady.
Scarlett jumped out the back of the truck. “Shari! We’ve got to go back!”
“Do you have sunstroke?” Shari stared at her with wild eyes.
Scarlett shook her head slowly.
“Is it Zac? Is he in trouble?” The undead and the soon-to-be-undead rushed the Enforcer’s Hummer. Dozens of people caught without shelter ran toward Shari’s truck.
“Get in!” Shari warned again.
Scarlett scooted onto the bench seat. She ruffled through the glove compartment for the binoculars she had seen earlier. Meanwhile, the truck stalled again. It coughed to a start.
A haziness lingered behind Scarlett’s eyes. She rolled her eyes back and searched. Someone was running after them. “Over there.” Scarlett leaned out the passenger’s side window and pointed. “To the far left of the Hummer.”
“Scar-lett,” a familiar voiced pleaded.
It wasn’t the mystical inner hearing that had so often haunted her since the pandemic. It was real. Scarlett jumped out of the truck. She focused on a particular figure emerging from the growing horde of newly turned creepers. The person stopped, doubled over with hands on knees, and then frantically waved to Scarlett.
“Are you flippin’ kidding me—Ella?” Scarlett reached for the tire iron behind the truck’s bench seat. It would inflict more damage than the small knife. “Keep the truck running,” was all she said to Shari.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State Page 10
