“Wow!” Zac exclaimed. “I was the one who rescued Ella from a runaway carriage and took her to Last Chance.”
“Bro, this is a shitload of coincidences. There’s some serious mojo going on,” Luther grumbled.
Dean didn’t know what to think. Luther was right. There were too many coincidences. The Gods must be playing Risk with humanity. “Sorry to say, Ella’s baby didn’t make it. But, she’s pregnant again. What do you plan on doing with the mother and child?”
“I’ve got an off-grid property in Zhetto. One of my wives runs the lodge. Shari will take care of them.”
“Rewind,” Luther drawled. “Did you say one of your wives?”
“Look, it’s not what you think. I only marry them to make them legal citizens. Otherwise, they would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The marriage can be annulled when they find a decent man to marry.”
“How many wives you got?” Luther seemed stunned.
“Lost count. Every time I get back to Last State, I’ve got legal paperwork up the ying-yang to deal with. Last I heard, two more are waiting for annulments.”
“Sounds expensive. I feel for you, bro. I only had two ex-wives. No wonder you resorted to smuggling,” Luther zinged.
“Say, your off-grid place, does it have cabins by a creek?” Dean had a feeling it was the same place Scarlett and Ella were staying.
“Aw, it must be where Scarlett is staying.” Zac caught on quick.
“Yep.” Dean wanted to know if Zac knew about the tunnel. “How do you plan on getting the mother and her baby there?”
Zac wiggled his eyebrows. “I know my way around.”
Zac hadn’t mentioned the tunnel. “How’s it you know Scarlett? And cut the bullshit. I’m ’bout ready to throw you out of this town.”
Zac’s cocky façade faded. His eyes went misty for a second. He eyed the bottle but decided against another drink. “We met in California the first year of the flu. Funny, I was running from Ravers that day, too. I took shelter in an old farmhouse. That’s when I happened on Twila. She was starving to death. Ravers were hot on my trail. So, I took the girl before they found her. But, she was slowing me down bigtime. There was no way I could outrun them. I ran into Scarlett—in the middle of the f’in woods. And then, well, Scarlett shot me.”
“Say whut?” Luther bust loose. He laughed so hard Dean was sure Luther was about to give himself an aneurysm. “Scarlett actually shot you?”
“Love at first sight.” But Zac wasn’t smiling. A sadness lingered in his eyes.
“That explains how Scarlett ended up with Twila. And you deserted them?” Dean continued.
“Ravers are relentless. Especially since I had double-crossed them.” Zac let out a cheesy grin. “To save them, I led the Ravers away from Scarlett’s bugout. It got pretty ugly. But, hey, I’m still here. And Scarlett and Ella and babies.”
Dean knew right then and there. Zac was a good man. But he needed to focus on the business at hand. “About what you were saying earlier. You expect the Ravers to stage another attack?”
“You don’t look too worried,” Luther jabbed.
“I’m out of here. With the mother and child,” Zac quipped.
“Sheriff, you there?” the radio interrupted.
Dean picked it up reluctantly, not wanting the news. “What’s the count?”
A pause. “We lost thirteen men,” Peters said grimly.
“Hell’s bells!”
Luther’s fist banged the table.
Dean couldn’t fathom how they had lost so many men. It seemed like they’d had the upper hand. Good thing he hadn’t been on the front line as usual. “Take their bodies to the south side of the trading post. We’ll give them a proper funeral tomorrow. Word of warning, the party’s not over. Our visitor informed they usually start their all-out attack at night. Put together a team to barricade the gate with all the scrap metal they can lay their hands on.”
“Right away,” Peters said, but Dean heard the despair in his voice.
“I took out their sharpshooter when I spotted him,” Zac said. “Your people should wear flak jackets. They don’t stop bullets, but they help with the shrapnel. I’ve got a dozen in the Hummer.”
“How many more of those RPGs do you have?” Luther asked Zac.
“Not enough.” Their smug visitor suddenly turned solemn.
Dean clicked the radio’s button. “Peters, you still there.”
“Here,” Peters answered.
“I want every single person to be ready. Start rotating four-hour shifts. Tell everyone to eat now while they can.” It was about all Dean could do.
“I’m not liking this one little iota,” Luther rattled off.
Fine crock a shit I got myself mixed up in this time. Dean felt like an ill-fated general in charge of Dunkirk. Hmm, that’s an idea. “What if there was a—”
“War—” Zac chimed in.
“And nobody showed up,” Luther finished.
“Interesting.” Dean rubbed his stubbled chin. They were on the same wavelength, so to speak. “Say, it just might work.”
“How many people are here?” Zac inquired, thinking so loudly Dean almost heard the fellow’s wheels churning under his ponytail.
“Let me see. We’ve got about eighty-five. Only forty or so are decent shots,” Dean guesstimated.
“We can hang in the tunnel!” Luther said, catching on.
Zac nodded. “So, you know about the tunnel.”
“You betcha,” Dean said. “Scarlett uses it. But, none of the townsfolk know of it as far as I know.” Eighty-five people. It was a lot of people to be crammed inside the tunnel. “Desperate situations call for desperate measures,” his granddaddy’s voice echoed in the depths of his mind.
“I’m surprised you didn’t sneak into Last State.” Zac raised a curious brow.
Dean eyed Luther. “Texas was never in our gameplan.”
“No siree,” Luther jeered with vehemence.
“It’s the drones we have to watch for,” Zac cautioned.
“Yep, I’ve clocked them ’bout every five to thirty minutes,” Dean said. “They don’t stick to a set schedule. He had spent several hours monitoring their sporadic patrols over Zoat, which searched for people trying to get in or out. The east side or west side of Zoat didn’t seem to make a difference. It was a lose-lose situation. “So . . . we wait until dark. And sneak everyone into the tunnel.”
Luther looked antsy, glancing out the windows, and then at his empty shot glass while he fidgeted with his juju beads.
“Say, you don’t suppose the drones would help us out?” Dean suddenly hoped. “We can write an S-O-S message and hold up a sign during their next flyover.”
“Not a chance in Hell,” Zac nearly spat.
“We still got grenades.” Luther held up his pouch. “You honestly don’t think we can fight them off?”
“Boom Town doesn’t stand a chance. I’ve seen their leader in action. During the initial standoff, R recons from the sidelines. By now, R knows the fort’s strong points and vulnerable spots. Your towers will be the first to go,” Zac said.
“What do they want with Boom Town?” Dean pondered. It was practically in Last State’s backyard.
Zac threw his arms in the air in apparent disgust. “R’s a megalomaniac. He’d decimate the town for the fun of it. Or, hell, just to flaunt off his militia to Last State. Another thing.” Zac paused. “Let’s not mention the tunnel yet.”
Dean understood what he was referring to. “Folks might start disappearing.”
“If the drone feed shows people pouring into Last State. They’ll take care of the tunnel, pronto,” Zac warned.
Dean needed to stretch his legs. He paced the bakery. “What we could do is boobytrap this place with trip wires and explosives. We can set several outside the perimeter at three hundred yards, two hundred yards and the like. When the first one goes off, we corral everyone into the tunnel,” Dean said, thinking aloud.
Zac
shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s an iffy plan.”
“What’s eatin’ at you?” Dean asked.
“All of Boom Town can’t sneak into Last State,” Zac replied. “That’s a death sentence for all of us. If Enforcers are waiting for us on the other end, it’s not like they’ll be asking for our citizenship papers. They’ll just start shooting.”
“Simple. We don’t tell our folks it’s a tunnel. It’s a hideout.” Dean rubbed his chin deep in thought. “Say, Luther, you could set up a false wall. We’ve got a stack of plywood.” By George, this might work.
“I’m down with that. I should take the young mother and baby there before things get dicey,” Luther said.
“Good thinking. It’s settled, then.” It was the best strategy they could come up with on such short notice. Dean detested the responsibility. He should tell everyone to make a run for the hills and take their chances. But, they were in the middle of the blooming desert with only three horses, a couple of vehicles, and just enough petrol to get them stranded. The Crown Royal bottle beckoned him. He fought back the temptation while a pulsing energy snaked up his torso.
Chapter 29
Justin Chen bolted up from the bed seconds before the alarm went off. Exhilarated, he skimmed the grounds from the lodge’s bedroom window for signs of the hella-horde. No Zs in sight. He pressed his ear to the bedroom door, listening for scuffling and snoring sounds. Nothing. From what he could tell, the lodge hadn’t been invaded. He shoved the dresser away from the bedroom door.
He was anxious to try the plan he had visualized between last night’s restless dreams. After a quick cup of hot tea to warm his body, he ate the rest of the stew. He sliced cloves of garlic and rubbed them on his face, hands, jacket, and the tops of his shoes. Then, he snuck to the outdoor clothesline to cut the rope. He coiled it neatly, looping it over his shoulder like a cowboy.
With his pack strapped on, his Glock fully-loaded, and cleaned knife sheathed to his belt, Justin was ready. He grabbed the crowbar by the front door for added protection. He could use it until he climbed the tree. The tree, that reminded him. His restless dreams had warned the tree’s first set of branches were too high. He went back to the pantry for the stepladder.
He crept out the kitchen’s back door. The sun peeked above the eastern plains, streaking the sky with the pastels of Starburst candies. He stopped to zoom in on the cabin with the binocs. There had to be a hundred Zs leaning against the cabin’s walls, writhing about, lost in a bedlam of their snorting-snoring sleep. Apparently, X-strains went into the dawn slumber state as well. He waited a nerve-racking minute for the Z-patrol to turn the cabin’s corner. They didn’t show up.
He made it another two hundred yards when he came upon an abandoned shotgun. “What the—” The pile of human bones grossed him out. He hadn’t seen them yesterday. They were off the path on the other side of a tree. Was it—had it been Scarlett? Or Shari? No! Not Ella. Don’t even think it. He swallowed hard and continued.
He needed to know how coherent the Zs were. He tossed a dirt clod to the far end of the cabin to get an idea of their reaction time. He nailed a Z on the cheek. It jerked away from the cabin’s wall, wobbled its head around, and then collapsed against the wall. It told him what he needed to know. He had some leeway.
Justin snuck to the tree closest to the attic’s gabled window. Its trunk was about six feet away from the window. He had about twelve feet of rope. Would it work? He placed the two-foot step ladder under the lowest sturdy branch. After pulling himself up through the myriad of green-budded branches, he singled out the sturdiest branch facing the window, only venturing as far as he dared. The branch creaked from his weight. Oops. Too much, he inched back.
He unzipped the pack’s side-pouch for the marbles he had snagged from the vase in the entryway. Here goes. He tossed one near the window. It bounced off the wall and landed on a Z. All it did was moan. He threw the next marble harder. He stared at the window, waiting. Ella and Scarlett must be asleep. He tossed the next marble at the window, not hard enough to break it.
There was no sign of anyone. Was he too late? Had they turned? Franic took hold. No, Zs wouldn’t be staking-out the place if they had turned. It was the one thing he did know. He tossed two marbles at the window. The clattering alerted the Zs below. But they hadn’t caught on to him.
An image appeared in the window. Is that . . .
“Ella,” he mouthed, waving frantically, holding onto the branch with the other hand. The limbs shook; he fought for his balance. It was her! Her gorgeous smile greeted him through the closed window.
Ella opened the hand-cranked window. “Justin? How’d—” She blew him kisses, kisses he could taste.
He held his fingers to his lips. “Shh. Remove the screen,” he mouthed with animation.
“What?” she mouthed back.
She would figure it out.
The next part he wasn’t so sure about. He wrapped one end of the rope around his hand and then tied it into knots. He mimed swinging the rope. That time Ella got it. Instead of removing the window’s screen the normal way, she hit it with a hammer. That wasn’t working. She started whacking it with a bat. That didn’t work either. She came back with a knife and started cutting the screen out of the frame.
He smirked. Okay, that will work. He tossed one end of the rope toward the window. It fell short and landed on a Z below. Justin snatched it before it knew what it was. Several Zs below the window were waking up, watching with dazed eyes. They lumbered to their feet. He had to get inside before the rest of the horde woke up.
He threw it again. Missed. Ella gave him the saddest smile. Was she thinking, My Prince Charming is here to save me, and this is his plan? Why hadn’t he ever asked Dean how to make a lasso? It was a crazy thought. Dean always knew what to do, and he sure wished Dean and Luther were there.
There had to be a way. He dug through his pack. Flashlight. He tied the other end of the rope around the flashlight. Its weight would carry the rope farther and give Ella something to grab. Feeling more positive, he swung the flashlight around like a cowboy lasso. The flashlight flew off and crashed into the side of the cabin.
“I shoulda joined the Boy Scouts,” he mouthed to Ella.
Ella threw up her hands and gave him a look, the look that said he was screwing up. The Zs leaning against the cabin swayed about in their drowsy state. But, the ones lying on the ground below him—their eyes popped open. They stared up at him. He swore drool foamed out of their mouths. He couldn’t look at their grotesque emaciated bodies any longer.
Zs rushed the tree. Good thing they couldn’t climb. One of the metal clips used to attach items to his military pack poked his shoulder. The clips came in handy on the smuggler runs. That might work. All he had to do was loop it several times and tie it. Easy-peasy. He showed her his brilliant new idea, feeling like the tall super-smart geek on The Big Bang Theory. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name.
He tossed the metal end to Ella. Her hand missed by a nanosecond, knocking it aside. This time he threw it a little harder. She latched onto it with a cute squeal. Ella held up the end of the rope like a prizefighter. Then, she looked at the rope and shrugged.
His animated hand gestures weren’t working. “Tie it to something,” he whisper-shouted out of desperation.
“Duh, I know. There’s nothing.”
“Ask Scarlett.” He loved Ella, but common sense was not always her thing.
Ella shook her head slowly. Whatever that meant. She waved frantically at him. She tied the rope to the window crank. Would it hold? She gave him two thumbs up. He returned the gesture. Next came the stuntman part. So maybe I didn’t think this through. After rebalancing his pack on his back, he checked the knots around his wrist, just in case he lost the rope. It would hold him.
The horde was wide awake. They howled and ogled him with bulging-buggy eyes and outstretched hands. A group jumped at the tree trunk, thinking they could climb. Bozos. They bounced to the ground.
Visions of him landing in the middle of them taunted him.
“Here goes,” he shouted to Ella, no longer needing to be quiet.
“Are you loco in the cabeza?” she yelled as if his plan had finally dawned on her.
“I’ll probably crash into the wall. You and Scarlett will have to pull me up.”
Something tugged at his foot. “The hell?” He kicked it off. How the heck had it climbed the tree?
Ella screamed.
He took a full-body swing of a jump, attempting a vertical skydiving stunt. His planned triumphant Tarzan yell morphed into a painful “Holy shit!” Smack. Right into the side of the cabin, a couple of feet below the window. He hung there, smashed nose and all. From below, they clawed at his feet. He went into a round of spastic ninja moves; meanwhile, the rope lifted him inch by inch . . . until hands grabbed his shoulder. He dove inside, crashing onto the floor.
“Are you cuh-ray-zee?” Next thing he knew, he was lost in her arms and smothered with kisses.
“So, what did you think of my awesome technique?”
“Justin Luke Chen . . .” She rambled off in Spanish.
Estúpido was the only word he could make out. “I know, right? I’m okay by the way.” He smirked.
“You found me!”
He methodically scanned the small upstairs room. A desk stacked with blue tubs was on the opposite wall of the window. “Awesome, you blocked the door with tubs. What’s in the tubs?”
“No door. It’s just a loft. The tubs are filled with books.”
He shoved on the tubs. Heavy. “Awesome job.” Twila lay on the floor covered with blankets. “Where’s Scarlett?”
“Scarlett and Shari are probably at the lodge devising a plan,” Ella said.
He didn’t want to tell her about the gnawed bones and shotgun he had found. He needed her to remain calm. Sane. He undid the rope around his wrist. Ella peeked over the window and gagged at the ghoulish faces below. She closed the window.
He pointed to Twila. “Is she okay?” He was shocked she hadn’t woken up when he had crashed into the building.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State Page 25
