“How would you know the whereabouts of a smuggler’s tunnel?” Dean asked outright.
Scarlett squirmed in her chair, poured a shot of tequila, downed it, and looked him straight in the eye. “You two are practical people. I don’t expect you to understand,” she paused, stalling. “Sometimes, I know things. See things.”
Luther looked her dead in the eye. “You’ve got that Voodoo hex, too?”
Dean nodded. “Mine’s hit and miss. Can’t always count on it. For example, I knew today was significant. Had the dynamite charges in place. Extra gunmen in the towers. And now you show up,” Dean said.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” Luther grinned.
“Wasn’t ready to discuss it. If all three of us have this new ability, there must be something to it.” If only he could decipher the vague messages more accurately.
“When I get those obscure messages, I tell that Voodoo shit to shut the hell up,” Luther said, the whites of his eyes widened. “My crazy Aunt Matilda from N’orleans was into that stuff. She used to spook me with those dolls when I was a kid. ’Cause the spooky thing is—zombies actually exist in Voodoo.”
The room went silent. To this day, Dean still couldn’t comprehend how the dead spontaneously reawakened with the sole purpose of eating people. It made the late George Romero look like a prophet.
“All I can say, if the mysterious presence feels good, it probably is good,” Scarlett said with conviction. “But if it feels bad.” She paused and then went on in a lower tone. “Be wary. Always—always listen to your intuition. I’ve learned the hard way numerous times.”
“She’s got a point,” Dean said, hoping to alleviate Luther’s superstitions. These days they could use all the help they could get, even if it was mystic mumbo jumbo nonsense.
“I need to leave.” The dark-haired beauty stood up abruptly. “I’ll draw a map to our hideout. Just in case Justin shows up.”
“You should rest and leave at dawn,” Luther said.
“I’d love to. It’s wonderful seeing you both. But, every second I waste is a second Ella might not make it.”
“Send Ella our love.” There was no sense in trying to talk her into staying. He knew Scarlett well enough to know she wouldn’t risk the dangerous trip unless Ella was in dire trouble.
“I’ll pack you a to-go bag,” Luther offered. “How long’s the trip?”
Scarlett sorted through her large-frame backpack. “It took me close to eight hours. I don’t need much.”
Dean hated to see her go. “I’ll tag along with you as far as I can,” Dean decided. He wanted to make sure she left Boom Town in one piece. Besides, he was curious about the tunnel. It would explain the surge of travelers who had suddenly appeared at sunset and sunrise. He should probably bolster the security in the back of the town, which backed up to Zoat. He figured no one in their right mind would be coming from that direction.
“Say, what was the name of those warlords in California?” Dean asked.
Scarlett’s eyes widened. “Ravers. They’re brutal. Have they made it this far east?”
Luther’s fist slammed the table. “Yup, that’s what Peters called them. He ran into them on a scavenging run last month. They wear freakish Viking attire made from human skin.”
“It definitely sounds like them,” Scarlett said.
Dean eyed Luther. “Shit on a shingle.” Marauders, gunslingers, hordes, and now Ravers. One way or the other, the Super Summer flu was hell-bent on killing off the human race.
Chapter 16
Scarlett Lewis climbed the creekbed’s embankment to scout the lodge through binoculars while Onyx quenched his thirst. They were close. Still, it was too risky to gallop across the open plains. In stealth mode, she would continue following the meandering creek to the back of the cabin. She hadn’t seen any drones since the border. They zoomed over Zoat, antagonizing the lost souls trapped in-between a state of death and hell until . . .
“Until they have been healed,” a voice answered. Had it been the Silver Lady?
She was too exhausted to discern the difference between her internal thoughts and cosmic messages. The trip back had taken nearly twenty-four hours. She had encountered three different mule trains. She had hidden in the creek’s underbrush with Onyx on his side and surveilled the mule trains through the scope of her rifle. Ready.
The brisk February winds kept her in high-alert mode. She craved a solid ten hours of sleep. The journey had given her far too much alone time. She yearned for the pre-pandemic days: her family, friends, teaching job, and normal life. Next time she should visit with Dean and Luther for a couple of days. She missed Dean. She didn’t know Luther well, but she knew she could count on him for anything. He had a good soul.
The closer she got to the cabin, the more intense her melancholy. It was more than exhaustion. She was sad. Depressed. She regretted leaving Dean. She was tired of hiding. Her hopes for a new happy life had been hijacked by Last State’s hypocrisy. Idiocracy. Humanity had a chance to change things. To get it right this time. And they were just as power-driven and greedy as before.
“My dear, you are achieving greatness as we speak!” This time Scarlett recognized the Silver Lady’s voice in her inner ear.
“Where have you been?” Scarlett asked silently.
“I exist in many places at once. Know I am here for you. I linger between the veils of time, for the Ancient Bloodlines are on to me. It pains me so to see you in such grief. You must understand even I have rules to abide. It is heartbreaking obeying my oath. For all cosmic intents and purposes, my role in Hu’s future has been completed. The seeds have been sown. I can no longer interfere with Hu-manity’s future. Be that as it may. The new Hu must forge their own destiny.”
“Twila says you talk to her,” Scarlett chastised with damaged pride.
“Twila is on a galactic mission. Fear not. You, my warrior, have accomplished more in this soul-time than you will ever understand. You have made the ultimate sacrifice.”
Scarlett was tired of the ambiguous riddles. “Is this monoatomic powder a miracle cure?” Scarlett blurted aloud, feeling like a fool for taking the risk of leaving Twila and Ella alone.
“Believe!”
“Well, isn’t that interfering?” Scarlett bit her tongue.
“Think of me not as a celestial guardian but as a referee officiating the cosmic playbook of Man-kind. And remember, there are more players in this game than you are aware. We do not control anyone. Free will is Hu’s most wondrous, volatile, and unpredictable trait. Each soul does what one is compelled to do at each moment in Earth’s continuum, whether it is acting in character, or out of character of one’s chosen Soul Path. Furthermore, a soul can change sides at will.”
Scarlett sighed, disappointed with the usual esoteric responses, which made absolutely no flipping sense. She was thankful Shari had been helping her understand.
“To answer your question, the package you behold contains the genuine Prima Matra, the First Matter of the Hu’s First Born on your planet Earth.”
The statement took her by surprise. “Uh, as in Adam and Eve?” Scarlett questioned.
“As a parable, one might say. Prima Matra reconstructs damaged DNA. We have enhanced its abilities for Hu’s highest good. It has the ability to save all the newborns!”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” Scarlett was aghast. If they had a cure, why had they allowed humanity to suffer in such a horrendous way?
“ ’Tis not as simple as one might think. Many of our disciples tried. And failed miserably. But you, you always find a way to succeed. The Prima Matra was our secret weapon, if you will, in the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity. It mysteriously disappeared from the Akashic Records. At last, it has returned to us.”
“Why?”
“That, I cannot ascertain. Perhaps the bringer of the Prima Matra has switched sides. Or, perhaps, dear one, it is a—trap!”
“Trap,” blasted Scarlett’s inner ears.
> “I know not which. Nor do you. Remain ever vigilant.”
“How do you know it hasn’t been poisoned?” The despicable thought floated across Scarlett’s subconscious.
“Do not waste your thoughts on such negativity. Now, make haste! Before it is too late . . .”
The sharp metallic taste of blood seemed to slice her lips. Scarlett jolted out of her hypnotic state. She hopped on Onyx. “We must hurry.” She gently prodded her heels into his muscular flanks.
Onyx bolted.
Scarlett hung on.
***
Scarlett surveilled the cabin. All was quiet. She opened the door to find Twila and Shari lying on the queen bed next to Ella, deep in meditation.
Twila opened her eyes. “Mommy, what took you sooo long? The kettle’s been waiting for you.”
“You made it back in one piece.” Shari seemed relieved.
Scarlett unfastened the rucksack’s straps, letting it crash to the floor. She grabbed the tin. How much powder should she use?
“The first time—two spoons of the magical tea,” Twila urged.
Scarlett didn’t bother to argue. She stirred in the powdery mixture, mesmerized by the silvery golds swirling in the mug of water.
“I want to give it to her,” Twila insisted.
“Sure,” Scarlett mumbled. She wanted to collapse into bed and disappear under the covers.
“You poor thing. You look dog tired.” Shari helped her to the sofa. “Your hands are cold as ice. You need a hot bath before you catch a fever.”
“I should check on Ella.” Scarlett struggled to find her feet.
“Twila is perfectly capable. Did you know she’s a Healer? A natural. Everything I told her she already knew. You taught her well.” Shari seemed pleased.
“It wasn’t me. She’s gifted,” was all Scarlett said.
“That she is. Twila told me not more than an hour ago you were famished. I brought over a pot of prairie chicken stew from the lodge. I’ll dish you a bowl before I run you a hot bath.”
“That sounds absolutely wonderful.” She wanted to soak away her aches, physical and emotional.
***
Scarlett awoke on her bed to find Twila cuddled beside her. Sounds from the front room encouraged her to get out of bed. Scarlett slipped on a robe and opened the bedroom door. Ella busied about dusting the cabin’s living room.
“Ella, what are you doing up?” Scarlett was amazed.
“Thank you for the tea! Mijo’s feeling great. But . . .” Ella stopped. “It isn’t enough,” her voice wavered.
“Don’t worry. Luther said the supplier is planning to drop off another package soon.” Scarlett wasn’t looking forward to going through the tunnel again. It gave her the heebie-jeebies. The only way she had managed the creepers’ unbearable moans was to blank out while staring into the lapis lazuli stone. Otherwise, their pain would have consumed her.
“Okay, so I’ve been learning a lot from Shari and Twila. I understand how Twila knew the tea was waiting for you. ’Cause, sometimes I know things, too. But, where did the tea come from?” Ella asked.
“A man in a black robe was all Luther could remember.”
Ella gasped. “One of Father Jacob’s followers. Do you think anyone followed you here?” Ella asked with a note of panic.
“No, I was watchful. Still, we should stay on high alert. It could be a trap. To find you. After all, Father Jacob kidnapped you before,” Scarlett worried.
“Uh, not exactly. I sorta went with Father Jacob’s loco cult. I knew it was the only way my baby would survive,” Ella confided.
Scarlett had assumed Father Jacob had taken her based on how everyone talked.
“I didn’t plan to desert Justin. It was more like Father Jacob hypnotized me into believing he had the power to save my baby. The tea really did work. Even with the nurse spiking my food with arsenic.”
“Are you sure the nurse poisoned you?” Scarlett thought it a bit odd.
“Yes! After I stopped eating the food the nurse gave me, I was better. There’s something else you should know. I never told a single person. That ungodly day.” Ella made the sign of the cross and grabbed the crucifix around her neck, the devout Catholic that she was. “Sheena stole—” Ella was in tears.
“It’s in the past. We must concern ourselves with the future,” Scarlett said, worried it might bring on a setback. “Think positive thoughts.” Scarlett had eventually forgiven Sheena for her heinous act of stealing Ella’s newborn. The Silver Lady had explained it hadn’t been time for his soul to live on this planet. Scarlett supposed it was true, for Last State surely would have taken Baby Miguel from Ella and subjected him to a life of tests or worse, dissected him for his DNA.
Ella wiped her tears with the back of her hand and said defiantly, “I don’t care what anybody else thinks. The tea works. It even saved Justin. One of those demons bit him on his chest. I, I packed the wound with the rest of the tea.” Ella stood there, frozen. Her hands flung to her forehead. She doubled over.
Probing!
“Quick, imagine yourself lost in the black void of the cosmos,” Scarlett exclaimed.
Scarlett went into defense mode with the help of her inner vision. Ella’s soul-light soared like a miniature star, leaving a trail of shimmering lights in her wake as she soared to the heavens. Her soul-light was there for all to see. The Ancient Ones would surely see Ella as her ethereal body glowed with the Prima Matra of the new Hu.
Scarlett plunged herself into total darkness. Cloaked in dark energy, she hugged Ella, making them invisible to the probing. Time spun around them, and darkness protected them, for they blended into The Ancient One’s dark energy. If Scarlett hadn’t doused Ella with darkness, surely the unnamed ones would have found them.
Ella had automatically gone to the light. Scarlett had chosen the depths of darkness to hide. It terrified her that she was more comfortable with the darkside.
“It is wise to be wary. Worry not, your internal compass knows the proper path. Remember, the yins and yangs of life encompasses both the light and the dark. A cosmic warrior uses the darkness when required.”
Time returned when Twila entered the room and announced in a gravelly deadpan voice, “They're coming . . .”
The three of them stared at the cabin’s front door as if expecting the Ancient Ones to materialize in front of them like a vengeful army of wraiths.
But no one came.
Chapter 17
Justin Chen yelled up the stairs. “Dude, the basement’s crammed with survival crap.” What a score. Several heavy-duty utility shelves were stacked with cans of SPAM and buckets of various freeze-dried foods. SPAM was on his top ten list of scavenging items. It always sold out in Zhetto. He checked the best-by-date stamped on the can. Cool, only a year ago. It was still Spamalicious. That stuff never went bad.
Ax Man stood at the top of the stairway. “Don’t make me come down there for shit.”
“For real.” Justin turned to a stack of crates. “Dude, I just found tons of weapons and ammo!” He couldn’t hold back his excitement. The owners must have been preppers.
Ax Man, a burly dude with a runaway beard thudded down the stairs. All the guys in the smuggler's band he had sorta been abducted into—as opposed to inducted into—had bad-ass names. Justin hadn’t earned his yet. He wasn’t planning to hang with them long enough to get one. He was escaping the second they let down their guard. He was so close to Boom Town he could taste it.
“Yowza, this is some primo shit. Start loadin’ the truck,” Ax Man ordered while inserting Duracells into a Gameboy he snatched from the shelf.
As usual, Justin was stuck with the grunt work. They treated him more like their errand boy than an aspiring smuggler. With this stockpile, he shouldn’t get stuck with shit duty unless Ax Man took all the credit, again. Justin loathed pumping out the RV’s waste tank. Mad Dog got the R.V. The rest of the ten-man team slept in the trucks and SUVs they caravanned in.
Justin s
houldn’t complain. Finding Mad Dog’s gang had been the most crucial part of his scheme. After leaving the January Zhetto Market, Justin had camped in his shoddy tent for days in Zhetto’s northern border, socializing with Zhetts and trying to make the right connection. Mad Dog’s men had gone from camp to camp selling wares, including weapons. So, he had been pretty sure they were smugglers.
Justin had told them he had been kicked out of Last State and wanted to be a smuggler when he grew up. They had laughed in his face. He had offered them the RFID chips, but they hadn’t had the clientele for techie contraband. They were basically a bunch of low-lifers.
He had followed them around like an eager-to-please puppy, waiting on them hand and foot. He had overheard them discussing their next run to Santa Fe, New Mexico. It had been the break he had been waiting for: a way out of Last State. After bugging them non-stop, Mad Dog finally agreed to take him on if he passed an initiation: A Z-deactivation contest.
The Z-contest had freaked Justin out at first after his comfortable life in the Zone. With a spiked mace as his only melee weapon, Justin had expertly disposed of the four Zs in a gruesome display of blood and guts. The gorier he had made it, the more they had cheered.
The smugglers were a sicko bunch, which made them easy to outsmart. Justin had learned so much about people since his days with the psycho Stockton Boys. Mad Dog’s men weren’t so tough without their weapons and their potty-mouths. Except for Mad Dog. Ye-ah, he’s a crazy dude. The name didn’t do him justice.
Justin had played his part, faking enthusiasm, knowing he was one day closer to Boom Town and Ella. But time had whizzed by. It was already March. He couldn’t just leave. Mad Dog had insinuated Justin wasn’t too bright or was a nark. Someone was always babysitting him. Little by little, with his silly antics and quips Justin had grown on the gang. Ax Man seemed to appreciate him. Probably because Justin did all the work.
They had left Last State through a tunnel in the northern panhandle, hitting every town on their way to Santa Fe. The towns had been pretty much looted out. They had finally found the isolated Los Campanas community Mad Dog had been searching for.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State Page 17
