Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State

by Popovich, A. D.

  The fancy neighborhood had lots of expensive antiques, Native American artifacts, and expensive-looking artwork, but not the practical items Zhetts needed for day-to-day survival. Which had Mad Dog in a super-pissy mood. Which had meant several afternoons of Z-games. Which meant, someone was gonna get hurt or dead soon. Everyone had been bumming out. But, this find should turn things around.

  Ax Man slacked-off, playing Donkey Kong. The game’s annoying sound effects brought back childhood memories of Justin playing the silly game on the couch while Mom cooked dinner, and Dad worked on his laptop at the kitchen table. If only Justin could go back in time and hang out with his parents again, now that he appreciated them. He had spent far more time with computers than with his parents. He wouldn’t let that happen with his son. Uh, son! Was he having a son?

  “Dude, we need another truck for all this.” Justin decided to test the waters. Was today his lucky day? Would they let him deliver his first run? They better ’cause I’m having a son, he rejoiced.

  “You sure we need two trucks?”

  “Like ye-ah,” Justin quipped like it was the stupidest question ever. Ax Man would know if he got off his lazy ass. “Check it.”

  Ax Man shifted on the stool, engrossed in the game. “Yeah, baby, made it to the next level.”

  Justin raised his hands impatiently. “Dude?”

  Ax Man reached for the two-way radio. “Send in another truck. We found some serious shit.”

  Yes! Two trucks. All he had to do was talk Ax Man into letting him drive one. “Dude, do you think I earned my first notch today?” Justin faked a wide grin.

  “Load my truck with all the weapons. And I’ll talk you up to Mad Dog. Don’t cha be fucking up,” Ax Man threatened with one of his overexaggerated barbarian glares. “It’s my ass on the line.”

  “On it!” Justin hauled the hardware to the garage, anxiously waiting for one of the gang to drop off the other truck. Meanwhile, he carefully plotted his escape. He loaded his truck with as many weapons as he could along with some food. Ax Man would get stuck with the freeze-dried stuff no one ever ate. This is gonna work. His first break since he had joined the motley crew nearly two months ago. They finally trusted him.

  After loading the second truck, Justin practically tumbled down the stairs. Buzz Saw, who had delivered the truck, argued with Ax Man over the value of antique silver and gold coins they had busted from a small safe.

  “Guys, the trucks are loaded,” Justin informed cheerfully.

  They stuffed their pockets with the coins. “This is off the books. Don’t be sayin’ nothin’ or else—” Ax Man tossed Justin the keyring.

  “Awesome. I’ll deliver the truck super-fast,” Justin swore.

  “And enough with the stupid-ass jokes. Mad Dog doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

  “Ye-ah, okay.” Sometimes Justin thought his stupid jokes disarmed his enemies. People usually thought he was a wonky-wimpy kid when in actuality, he was always thinking.

  “We’ll be right behind you after we look through the rest of this,” Ax Man said, eyeing the second safe Buzz Saw was trying to hack into.

  Justin took off.

  “Hold on,” Ax Man nagged.

  Now what? Justin cringed inwardly.

  “You did good today.” Ax Man offered a crooked-tooth grin.

  “You’re gonna be one of us, punk,” Buzz Saw hooted.

  “Punk Ass. I like it,” Ax Man woofed like a sick dog. “As your mentor, I’m tagging you Punk Ass.”

  “Awesomeness.” Justin smirked. His first day as an official smuggler, and he was going to be a wanted man not only by Last State but by Mad Dog’s gang.

  Justin ran up the basement stairs two steps at a time, ran out the garage, and jumped into the truck. It took all his willpower not to floor the gas pedal and take off in a madcap escape. No. He played it smart. He turned onto Camino la Tierra. He followed it until he came to the four-man team on horde alert. Mad Dog’s men strutted around, poised for action, brandishing Uzis at anything that moved.

  They blocked the exit, eyeballing him like drug lords looking for an excuse to whack-off someone. Justin stopped the truck.

  “What you got in the back?” the taller man yelled. He forgot his bad-ass name. Justin had nicknamed him Skunk for obvious reasons. To say the dude had a problem with body odor made a hyperbole look like an understatement. “Who said you could drive?” Skunk ragged.

  “Like, dude, what kind of cigarette are you smoking? I was there when Ax Man called it in,” Justin reminded with his trademark smirk, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Just messin’ with chu. Go on, ’fore I change my mind.” Skunk waved him through with his Uzi.

  Justin offered a flimsy salute, and they let him pass. “Jerk,” he uttered under his breath.

  Justin kept the speedometer at thirty-five mph, all the while his heart ricocheted in his chest like a pinball game stuck in multi-ball mode. What if there were guards at the next turn? He wouldn’t be able to exit the gated community. The rest of the gang were crashed at the fancy clubhouse, about a ten-minute drive from there.

  They would start looking for him after Ax Man and Buzz Saw made it back and reported in with Mad Dog. Then they would figure he had split with the stockpile of awesome goods. He wasn’t sure why he risked taking the good stuff. It only added to the trouble he would be in if they caught on to him. If, he reminded. He had a lame excuse ready if they found him within the first hour. “Dude, no GPS. I sorta got lost.” They were stupid enough to believe it, for he had done plenty of other stupid things to throw them off.

  Justin couldn’t wait to drive into Boom Town. Mile after mile, angst crept in. Was Ella there? And Scarlett? Were Dean and Luther all right? He hoped his desperate off-the-cuff plan had worked. Telling Ella to leave the security of Last State—what was I thinking?

  If he drove all night, he’d make it to Boom Town by morning. He had to. No one survived Mad Dog’s wrath.

  Chapter 18

  Scarlett Lewis stroked Onyx’s silky mane before sliding off the stallion. “Here we are,” she cooed. They had finally made it through the tunnel. She pushed open the sheet metal covering Boom Town’s end of the tunnel and then searched the sky for drones.

  “It’s safe,” she told Onyx.

  They stepped into the narrow property easement between Zoat and the backside of Boom Town. The New Mexico side of Zoat’s outer embankment was reinforced with rebar and metal sheeting. In the pale moon’s light, she searched for the opening into Boom Town. She tried several metal panels. Had someone sealed the entrance? It had been an especially difficult passage. Her third time through the tunnel, and each time it had become more difficult to block out the creepers’ heart-wrenching cries piercing her heart chakra.

  Scarlett closed her eyes for a visual, searching for the metal panel hiding the secret entrance. Where is it?

  Onyx whinnied three panels down.

  “Jeez Louise, you found it.” What’s wrong with me? She held open the panel for Onyx. He carefully avoided the Prickly Pear patch on the other side of the barrier. She followed the dried arroyo bed to the back of the stables, Johnny Ringo’s place.

  “You can rest here,” she told Onyx silently as she tied the reins to a post next to a trough of water. “I’ll have Dean take you inside with the other horses.” She set the saddle on a wooden bench.

  It was four in the morning. Boom Town slept, except for the guards she had spotted in the gate’s towers. There was no need to post guards in the back since it butted up to Zoat. She grabbed the key Luther had given her and unlocked the bakery’s back door. She crept inside, her eyes already accustomed to the dark. She didn’t risk flashing her light; the guards might be suspicious of a roving flashlight. After unlatching the heavy rucksack, she scooted into a booth, ready for a couple of hours of sleep.

  ***

  The aroma of French Roast woke her up. Caffeine by dream, she mused before finding Luther waving a steaming cup under her nose.


  “Hey, Luther,” she mumbled groggily.

  “Good morning, Scarlett,” Luther greeted, donned in a chef’s hat.

  “Emm, it smells like real coffee.”

  “Instant and expired. But, it works. How’d you know I received another package?”

  “Got a text. Of the mind.” Scarlett took a tentative sip from the hot mug. “Is Dean up?”

  “He’s in the shower. He’ll be down in a few,” Luther said, untying his flour-covered apron.

  “What time do you open?” Scarlett asked, perking up with a jolt from the coffee.

  “About ten minutes.” Luther grabbed her rucksack along with a tray of freshly made muffins. “Hang upstairs in our cozy apartment. The bakery gets busy in the morning. Don’t worry, we sell out quickly.”

  It was almost 7:00 a.m. A compelling urgency warned her to leave. Right now! But she wanted to see Dean. Besides, Onyx needed to rest as did her aching bum. “The muffins smell delicious. What kind?” Scarlett said, not bothering to stifle her hunger pangs.

  “Walnut. We received a crate of walnuts yesterday. Trade’s been booming since the last time you were here. We’ve got more men, guns, and ammo. And lots of customers again.”

  They walked up the narrow stairwell to the apartment. “Surprise guest,” Luther yelled when the shower squeaked off. “I’d better open up.” Luther hurried downstairs.

  She was halfway through a muffin when Dean joined her.

  “All be dern. Had a feeling it was you.” Dean gave her a comforting hug. “How’s Ella and the baby?”

  “They’re great. The tea is a miracle,” Scarlett said, suddenly wide awake. The coffee lit every cell in her body.

  “And that whippersnapper, Twila?”

  “Precocious as—” Scarlett drifted into a mist of shadows. Rising, flying, leaving her body . . .

  “Scarlett—”

  Her name fell into a bottomless chasm.

  ***

  Scarlett awoke in a recliner in Dean and Luther’s upstairs apartment. She struggled to her feet.

  “Think you need to rest a spell. You just passed out on me,” Dean said with concern creasing the wrinkles in his forehead. “I’ll be back after the breakfast crowd.” He handed her a blanket.

  A far away voice left her disoriented. Who is that? It wasn’t the Silver Lady’s voice. And then it registered. Twila! She’s in danger. “Dean, I have to leave. Something is terribly wrong at the cabin.”

  “Well, you can’t exactly leave now. Too many people milling about the trading post,” Dean said, taken aback.

  “I didn’t pass out. It was a message. Sometimes I go into a trance-like state.” Twila had done it often during their cross-country trip. She had always assumed it was some sort of escapism. Had Twila been receiving messages all those times?

  “You need to rest. Hell, your horse needs resting,” Dean countered.

  “I can’t,” she persisted. Dean hated it when she didn’t see reason. She knew it. But she couldn’t shake the sinking sensation of . . . doom.

  “All righty then.” He wrapped the muffins in a towel and then put them in the top of her rucksack.

  “Restroom?” She loathed going outside.

  “By all means.”

  After relieving her bladder, she splashed cold water on her face. She wished she had time for a relaxing visit with Dean and Luther. Not today.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You sure about this?” The sad glint in Dean’s eyes worried her. Was it the last time she would ever see him?

  “Follow me,” Dean said.

  They hurried down the stairs, sneaking to the bakery’s back entrance while Luther handled the customers.

  Luther hollered, “I could use a hand here.”

  But Scarlett and Dean exited out the back.

  “Where’s your horse?”

  “Behind the corral.” Scarlett pointed, peeking around the corner.

  “Stay put. I’ll check out the back exit. I want it to remain a secret.” Dean headed toward the tunnel.

  The bakery’s back door swung open. “Are you leaving already?” Luther frowned.

  “I can’t explain it. Something’s wrong. They need me.”

  “You forgot what you came here for.” Luther handed her the package.

  It was much bigger than the last one. “Was it the same person?” Scarlett wondered, attempting her inner vision for a glimpse. A foggy image floated by. Then, poof, it vanished.

  “I don’t know. I found it on the counter about two weeks ago,” Luther said.

  Scarlett made room in the rucksack. “Jeez, I can’t believe I almost forgot the flippin’ tea.” What’s wrong with me? She could not think. It was like a vast cavern of emptiness had settled into her brain.

  “I need to take care of the customers.” Luther seemed worried for her as well.

  “Thank you so much.” She hugged Luther.

  “Need any food?” he asked from the other side of the screen door.

  “Dean gave me the muffins, and I have plenty of jerked venison to get me home.”

  Dean returned with a hurry-up look. “Better skedaddle. There’s trouble brewing next door at Johnny Ringo’s. Let’s get you outta here.” Dean smoothed down the saddle pad. “Hello, handsome. Easy boy,” he said, calming the stallion before slinging the saddle over him in one fluid movement.

  She took the reins and followed Dean to Zoat’s embankment.

  “Next time stay a while. And that’s an order from the sheriff.” Dean smiled.

  She wished she didn’t have to leave. It was wonderful seeing him again. When Dean removed the sheet metal hiding the tunnel, she took the liberty of peering beneath the gruff façade he wore so well to analyze his aura. It sparkled with vivid colors, no murkiness except for a cotton-ball-sized gray dot hovering over his heart. She peered deeper. Despite the loss of his wife and never hearing from his son, Dean yearned for—something.

  I see it now. He’s homesick. Aren’t we all? Still, she couldn’t bear to see him in pain. It was another reason she had stopped herself from observing auras. Everyone seemed to be suffering from unbearable heartbreaking miseries.

  She willed a gentle blast of cosmic energy to sweep across his biomagnetic sheath. She focused on the gray and sent him waves of green and pink lights until his heart chakra spun with vibrant greens and pinks. Of course, the gray would return. She couldn’t change his way of thinking. He had to do that.

  She could only temporarily remove the negative energy that had manifested into a physical form of dis-ease, which would eventually mutate into disease. His longingness would surely return if he obsessed over it. It was the same lesson she had tried to learn over and over: letting go of old hurts, regrets, and lost hopes so they didn’t corrode her physical body and soul. For a lifetime. Or lifetime after lifetime, her internal voice reminded. Scarlett had learned so much from the Silver Lady and Shari, even Twila.

  When Dean turned back to her, she cherished the surreal time-lapse moment frame by frame until his face was forever engrained into her memories: his endearing smile and the way his eyes twinkled like he knew a secret.

  “Say, you’re not about to go into one of those fits, are you?” Dean’s brows knitted further.

  “I’m fine. Dean, uh, be careful . . .” She hoped her fear hadn’t seeped into her voice. Was she worried for him or for herself? It must be paranoia taking over. She loathed the tunnel.

  “Hate to see you go so soon. These days I know better than to doubt a woman’s intuition. Especially yours.”

  They hugged.

  She led Onyx into the tunnel, mounted him, and then adjusted her pack. Dean replaced the metal sheeting without another word. Would she ever see him again? She grabbed the backup LED light she always kept strapped to her pant leg. One of Dean’s tricks. She shined the light down the wavy-cut walls of dirt. The ground descended for several yards before it leveled out. She was alone with only Onyx. Jeez, snap out of this funk. Maybe it was jus
t PMS.

  “Ready, Onyx?” The stallion had proven to be worthy, tuning into her thoughts as Willow had. Onyx shook his head and pranced from side to side. She wasn’t the only one on edge.

  “Let’s go,” she encouraged. He continued prancing from side to side, turning around until they faced Boom Town’s barricaded entrance. It was quite comical; she should have laughed. Should. But, an unreasonable fear had taken over her vocal cords.

  “We have to hurry. Twila needs us,” she said internally. Onyx had always known the right direction without guidance.

  A blast of gunshots came from Boom Town. Onyx bucked. Dean! Luther! Should she go back for them? Hurry, her internal knowing warned. She needed to get to Twila and Ella. Dean and Luther could always hide in the tunnel if they needed to.

  She took a deep breath as if afraid her lungs might seize next. She struggled to find her voice. “Onyx! Turn around,” she demanded.

  Scarlett lost control of her internal shielding. The creepers’ relentless moaning overtook her. In her mind’s eye, a gigantic clock made of human bones materialized. Its 3D numbers coated in blood. Drip. Drip. Drip. The numbers dissolved before the second hand reached the ten, the eleven . . . twelve. The second and hour hands spun backward so fast they were sucked into a black hole. Was the lucid vision telling her Twila and Ella were out of time?

  Scarlett continued prodding the stallion to turn toward Zhetto. It took all her cerebral energy to keep from succumbing to their pain and dying a thousand deaths. For she was an empath. She absorbed others’ pains. Shari had taught her to block unwanted energies. However, at times the energies were beyond her scope of power.

  She grabbed the lapis lazuli pendant from her neck and placed it on her third eye. Please take me to the special place of mandalas and cosmic lights. It was the only way she could bare a trip directly under Zoat.

  “Let’s go, Onyx. I hate the tunnel, too.” She usually rode with half-closed eyes, using her inner vision as a guide. It kept her sane. Today she didn’t hear the Hunger’s Howl, only their desperate moans begging for release. A release from living an eternity as an undead soul in a decaying body.