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

by Popovich, A. D.

“F’in bastards!” His entire team—incinerated. Fate had once again interfered with his plans. Something beyond his comprehension had occurred ever since the Nano Com-trail flu, as he called it. He was on his own again. Just like the early days. He had to lone wolf his way out of this one.

  The Viking-dressed marauders were not ordinary bandits. Ravers. His worst nightmare. They had a hefty bounty on his head from his California days. Ravers were tough to outfox and nearly impossible to outrun. And impossible to outfight. He would rather be stuck in the middle of a vile X-strain horde than deal with those ruthless predators.

  Normally Zac wouldn’t sweat it. The Hummer’s modified engine block could outpace most vehicles. Not the gas tank. The needle hovered over the quarter tank mark. The reserve tank had busted last week. He had a fuel can in the back. No time to refuel. He hoped he hadn’t used the last of his nine lives. The western trading post was a few miles ahead, and he had taken back his lead.

  Ravers must have been on their way to Boom Town when they had seen his flares and decided to off the Black Hawk first. Zac was no more than a meager inconvenience for them until they found out he was on R’s most-hated list. But they would only find that out if they caught him—alive.

  Zac had sent Boom Town a team of defected Enforcers last October along with a shitload of weapons and ammo scavenged from an abandoned armory. His men would recognize his signal. With his arm out the window, he doubled tapped the sky with two green flares, aiming them over the town. At the very least it would warn Boom Town of the Ravers.

  He was close enough to see the men in the towers. Aw, shit. The gate wasn’t opening. When all else fails, pray. Pray damn hard. With eyes locked on Boom Town’s gate, he willed whoever was operating the gate to open it.

  “I’m not liking this.” Life’s fleeting moments of true happiness flirted with his conscious. Then the regrets started flooding in. The Stock Market Crash, the pandemic, losing his parents, and eventually all four of his brothers. Scarlett. She was both: happiness and a regret, for he hadn’t found her after last summer’s horde attack on Last Chance. His heart had never recovered.

  “Open the gate!” Zac whooped. One hand went from waving his hand out the window to honking the horn to flashing the headlights while the other kept the Hummer on a dead-on course with the closed gate. Owning it with his obstinate mind-over-matter attitude, he plowed ahead. If he stopped, those fuckers would skin him alive.

  He braced for impact. The Hummer would only make a dent in the twelve-inch-thick titanium gate installed by Last State. He was well aware of its capability. Eyes darting from the rearview to the gate, he calculated the odds. The motorcycles slid to a stop. It was too late to change his mind. Too late to make a hard turn. He was going for it.

  The epic fails of his life continued harassing him. If he had it all to do again. What was the one thing he would change? The one thing that would have changed him? For the better. Scarlett. He slammed the horn.

  “Whoa!” The gate was rising! “C’mon, another few feet.”

  It was going to be close. He took his foot off the gas, breaking slowly. His power of suggestion turned back on. He focused, homing his willpower. Today, survival, wasn’t only about him. The Hummer plowed under the gate. The screeching-scrape of the Hummer’s roof against the bottom of the gate helped slow him down. He cranked the wheel hard and spun out inches from one of the guard towers. He couldn’t believe his luck. The cocking of guns brought him to reality.

  “Close the gate!” Zac shouted into the barrel of a shotgun. “Ravers!”

  “Sure as hell ain’t Mad Dog,” someone shouted.

  “Easy, boys, I think I know the fella,” a familiar voice cut in. “Peters, close the gate!”

  “Dean Wormer, am I ever glad to see you.” Zac leaned against his vehicle in relief. “You had me worried.”

  “You friends with him?” one of the men shouted.

  “Not so sure. You the fella who nattered on ’bout a bunch of empty promises?” Dean accused.

  Dean Wormer wore a sheriff badge on his western plaid shirt. Good choice. Dean seemed to be the shrewdest of Boom Town’s inhabitants based on his negotiations prior to Last State pulling out. “Hey, I kept my end of the deal.” Zac looked around. None of his men were amongst the crowd brandishing weapons. “Aw, shit, they didn’t make it.” What the hell had happened to them?

  “Those your friends?” a man yelled from the tower.

  The guns inched closer, encircling him. A grenade blasted one of the guard towers. “Ravers. Your worst nightmare.”

  “Did you say, Ravers?” Dean didn’t wait for an answer. He yelled into his radio. “Use all your firepower!”

  “I came to warn you.” Zac didn’t mention it was his only escape option.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got any ammo for our machine guns in that Hummer of yours?” Dean asked with anguish in his eyes.

  “Got you covered.” Zac popped open the Hummer’s back door. “Grenades and RPGs. And did I mention ammo?” He had dozens of ammo cans.

  “Hell’s bells, the whole shebang.” Dean eyed the ammo cans. “I need my fastest runners here on the double,” Dean yelled into the radio. “Luther, where are you? You’re gonna love this.”

  Several men and women of all ages gathered around Dean. Zac handed out pouches of grenades. “These are old pineapple grenades.” He grabbed one and demonstrated. “Hold it against your chest. Hold down the lever, twist and pull the pin. And toss. Remember, you’ve only got five seconds after you pull the pin.”

  Dean announced into the radio, “Any of you ever fire an RPG?”

  Zac pulled one out of the case. “Simple. These are heat seekers. Just point. Fire. Watch for the kick. And rinse and repeat.” Zac handed them out to the runners.

  “I counted twenty Ravers,” the radio warned.

  The sheriff eyed him. “We ought to be able to handle it.”

  “Precisely, they’re just testing your defenses,” Zac said. “If they don’t breach the walls in the first fifteen minutes, they’ll retreat. They send in their real f’in militia when you’re sleeping off your celebratory hangover. Trust me, I know how those bastards work.”

  “Peters, talk to me. How we doing?” the sheriff yelled over the artillery.

  “Woo-hoo, Krasinski took out two of ’em!” the man on the other end of the radio shouted.

  “Yeah, baby, Papa’s got a favorite new toy,” a deep voice shouted.

  “That would be my dear friend and partner in crime, Luther. He’s got an addiction to things that go boom,” the sheriff said with a hint of a smile. “Lopez, Turner, I want eyes in the back. Let me know if you see any movement whatsoever. I don’t care if it’s a jackalope. I want to know about it.”

  “Yes sir!” The two men took off for the back of the town.

  Zac watched the entire scene play out. The sheriff made on-the-spot decisions like a general engaged in real-time battle.

  “Got any more of those?” Dean asked.

  Zac pulled out another case of RPGs. The last artillery case was Zac’s.

  “Nailed another one,” a voice shouted over the two-way radio.

  “Say, you happen to be in Special Forces once upon a time?” Dean asked.

  “No way.”

  “A mercenary?”

  “Close. Used to be a cold-blooded stockbroker. My turn,” Zac said. “When you saw me barreling full-speed ahead—why the hell did you open the gate?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “I can’t rightly say. It was one hell-of-a hunch I couldn’t shake for the life of me.”

  “Gracias!” Zac reached for the M4 on the Hummer’s seat. “You mind? I’d hate to miss out on the fun.” Zac grinned.

  “Have at it. Don’t forget to duck at all the right moments,” the sheriff offered.

  Zac made a run for the closest guard tower. He wanted to see if they were winning this round. He dreaded the next one. Ravers never lost. He wasn’t planning on sticking around for the next battl
e.

  Boom Town was doing a decent job of defending the trading post. What worried Zac was why R’s militia was this close to Last State’s border? Had they taken over the western Lost States since he’d been ordered on back-to-back supply runs the past few months? The Elites were getting greedy with their contraband demands. What had started as a quick way to get ahead in Last State had backfired on him.

  He was in too deep for his handlers to let him get out of the smuggling game. Zac was done dealing with their shit. Still, he couldn’t quit them cold turkey; he needed to prepare, which required a dedicated entourage to watch his back. After losing all his men, he was back to square one, only with a sizable LS bank account.

  The gunfire finally dissipated. The surviving Ravers rode away. It was over. For now. The Ravers hadn’t decimated the place with artillery. And he knew why all too well. They got their rocks off on the slaughtering. The number of skins they garnered in a fight was another way for R’s recruits to earn their stripes.

  Zac ran down the guard tower’s steep steps, anxious to check on his cargo. Aw, shit! The sheriff had beat him to it. Guns pointed at him again. He was sure getting tired of guns aimed at his head. Zac raised his hands and gave his smuggest smile. “Whoa, I’m the good guy, remember?”

  “Might want to explain this,” the sheriff barked from the back of Zac’s Hummer.

  The mother and child Zac had been hiding huddled in the artillery case he had been saving. A baby’s cry alerted the men loitering around. “Look, it’s not what you think. I’m sneaking her into Last State. Tonight. It’s their only chance.”

  The beefy black man, Luther, lifted the woman and baby down from the back of the Hummer. “You all right, Missy?”

  She didn’t utter a word. She ran to Zac, clinging to her baby with one hand, and clinging to him with the other.

  “Are you here on your own accord?” the sheriff inquired.

  She stared blankly.

  “Where in tarnation did you find her?” Dean asked, the threat in his voice gone.

  Zac didn’t know what it was, but he had a way of collecting women. He shook his head. “Uh, my spider senses?” he retorted, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

  “Luther, Zac, let’s talk inside the bakery. Alrighty folks, time to clean up this place. Watch out for the reanimated ones. Haul the Raver’s corpses to the burn pit. And scavenge all the weapons and ammo you can from our invaders. Peters, give me a report A-S-A-P.”

  Zac and the young mother followed Dean and Luther into the bakery. Zac would do everything in his power to protect the woman and her baby. He hoped Dean wasn’t a cold-blooded bastard, wanting her for himself. No, it wasn’t what his spider senses told him.

  Dean closed the bakery’s door and kept his eye outside and his hand on the radio. “From what I’ve been hearing, Last State isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. What exactly are your intentions with them?” Dean asked point-blank.

  It was true. “Look, I know. Last State is only a temporary solution until I find a safe zone.” With Ravers extending their territory, there was no safe place. Zac turned to the sheriff and Luther with compassion while they held him in checkmate with their accusing stares. “Honestly, my only intention is to save them from . . . Ravers, hordes, marauders. And especially Last State.”

  Dean and Luther gave each other a long hard look. Dean’s eyes crinkled around the corners. “Say, what do you reckon the odds are of finding a child? Now Twila has someone to play with,” Dean said to his business partner.

  “Did you say—Twila?” It wasn’t a common name. “Do you happen to know a Scarlett?” Zac blurted.

  Luther and Dean eyed each other.

  “The black-haired babe with the dazzling eyes?” Luther asked.

  Zac nodded.

  “I could go for some libations right about now.” Dean sat down heavily.

  “How well do you know Scarlett?” Luther pried.

  She’s alive? Zac’s heart ballooned about ten sizes larger. He let out one of his best disarming boyish grins. “In the best way any lucky man could. Where is she?”

  “She’s been staying at an off-grid cabin in Last State. She visited us about a week ago or so,” Dean said.

  The reports blurted over the radio, but all Zac heard was “Scarlett’s alive” shouting over and over through his mind.

  Chapter 28

  Dean Wormer settled the young mother and her baby in the bakery’s upstairs apartment. She smiled gratefully but didn’t say a word, reminding him of Ella during the early days of the flu outbreak. She made herself comfortable in his recliner and began nursing the baby. Alrighty then. Time to go. He scuttled down the stairs.

  Zac stared out the bakery’s window in apparent contemplation. Dean took a seat at the bakery’s booth with the best view of the trading post’s front gate. Luther returned with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of Crown Royal, the one he’d been saving. He didn’t know if this was considered a special occasion, but they had survived another attack, found a mother and child, and met a friend of Scarlett’s. I’d say Zac was definitely more than a friend.

  “Take a load off.” Dean gestured for Zac Padilla to join him at the booth.

  Luther poured them a round. “Enjoy.” Dean saluted with his glass.

  “Last bottle,” Luther confirmed.

  “I can get you a case,” Padilla boasted with his usual smugness.

  “Just like those men you promised?” Luther quizzed.

  “Honestly, I sent a team of my best men. Men who know how to fight.”

  “Where do you get these men?” Dean pressed.

  “Last State defectors, otherwise labeled as traitors,” Zac said. “Those who can’t or won’t play by Last State’s rules.”

  “What do you suppose happened to them?” Dean asked.

  “One word. Ravers. They had plenty of weaponry to handle hordes. Even X-strains,” Zac said.

  “They probably hustled off with your weapons,” Luther reasoned.

  “And go where? Boom Town is the safest settlement outside of Last State. Trust me, I’ve been around.” Zac raised his arms in obvious frustration. “This is it.”

  “Speakin’ of which, where are the rest of your men?” Dean inquired. He fiddled with his badge and tried to ignore the twinge in his chest. It had to be a phantom pain. He was sure of it.

  Zac stared out the window for a long moment. His jaw pulsated. “They didn’t make it.” He pounded his fist on the table, rattling the shot glasses. “It’s been one shit mission after another. We’ve been all over the Lost States securing my handler’s non-stop requests. Last month we had three Black Hawks delivering a payload of contraband every couple of days.”

  “It seems like an awful lot based on the stark conditions out there,” Dean said.

  “Elites are worried their precious goods will soon be looted out with so many freelance smugglers flooding the market. It’s going to be a bitch if we have to compete with the Ravers. They’ve got the manpower to send a regiment into the heart of the horde-infested cities. Taking all the good stuff.”

  “And why do you reckon your team has been so successful until now?” Dean pressed on. Listening to people talk helped him peg a man’s nature, be it good or not.

  “We’ve got an edge, Black Hawks. When we go in, it’s quick and painless. We use high-tech equipment to spot hordes and marauders. But, I’ve been losing a good man every week. I started to get a feeling our mission had been compromised. We rarely lost team members. I decided to take my team off mission for a couple of days. We shacked up at a hotel about two hundred miles west of Santa Fe. Do you mind?” Zac pointed at the bottle.

  Dean recognized the torment in Zac’s tone. Luther went from rubbing the juju beads he had bought from a “good luck” peddler to pouring the fellow another drink. Suppose we all need our good luck charms. Crown Royal was his, and he was almost out.

  Dean weighed in on Zac’s situation. “Sounds like you have a traitor in your midst.”<
br />
  Zac downed the shot hard and fast. “My thoughts exactly. Anyway, after a little R&R, we headed back to the cigarette factory. A horde was waiting for us. Which was odd, because we had previously snuffed out the hordes and secured the area. We walked right into an X-strain lair. Inside the factory. I assumed it had been an equipment malfunction.”

  “Good God Almighty, someone had it in for you,” Luther boomed. “Could have been Mad Dog. I heard he works with hordes.”

  Zac shook his head. “Mad Dog is a smalltime gangsta. He doesn’t have much manpower these days.”

  “How’d it go down at the factory?” Luther asked.

  “A shitfest. At first, I thought my hearing was going. The ringing in my ears,” Zac explained. “I kept hearing a baby cry. On impulse, I left my men to check out the floor of offices. I followed the crying. That’s when I found the woman and baby. I realized my men had left me for dead when the helo took off. And there I was, trying to save a mother and child with a horde hot on my ass.”

  “Bro, how’d you get out of that one?” Luther said big-eyed.

  “Hell if I know. Lots of grenades. I remember getting them into the Hummer and telling her to hide in the artillery case. Not even a Hummer can survive the X-strain. I shot off a green flare to signal my men. The helo returned and shot up the horde. From out of nowhere, an RPG shot down the helo. If you hadn’t opened the gate, we wouldn’t be here. End of story.”

  “Now that’s some serious shit.” Luther fiddled with his juju beads.

  Dean felt the pain in the man’s eyes as he recounted the events that had brought him to Boom Town. “How long do you reckon she had been there?”

  “She won’t talk. She must be in shock. I mean, having a baby in a time like this. All alone. But, she came with me willingly. I didn’t force her.”

  “Reminds me of Ella,” Dean said to Luther.

  A spark of acknowledgment swept across Zac’s face. “Hey, hold on a minute. Do you mean the same Ella who had the baby last year?”

  Dean shook his head. “You know her as well?” Dean had a feeling they had been running circles around each other this whole time.