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

by Popovich, A. D.

  Zac knew the weasel well. A Class-Z citizen, which meant he would be deported on the spot if Enforcers didn’t shoot him as an illegal.

  Luther cold-cocked the guy to the ground. “I got your back.” Luther nodded.

  “I’m cool,” Lopez said when Luther pointed the Glock at him next.

  “Justin, why are you still here?” Dean scowled.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Justin questioned.

  “Now, we can’t all go hide,” Dean said impatiently. “With all their high-tech equipment, they must have spotted some of us. And if they search the joint, they’ll find the gals.”

  “Dean’s right,” Zac said. “The Enforcers around here know me.” But, he’d been spending more time in the Lost States than in Last State.

  “Better get our story straight,” Dean warned.

  “Simple. We’re in commodities.” Zac formulated the details in his mind. “We were overtaken by the horde. Some of our men didn’t make it.”

  The Enforcers aimed their weapons at the remaining horde pawing at the lodge’s front door. “Incoming!” Zac hollered. “Everybody hug the floor!”

  A barrage of gunfire ripped through the front of the lodge, shattering the windows. He ducked lower behind the couch, wincing at the twangs of near misses whizzing above his head while he waited for the cease-fire.

  Finally, the room went silent. The front room of his lodge was mutilated. Sunlight streamed through the bullet-hole-ridden wall.

  “Sounds like their done,” Dean called out.

  “Dude, smuggling is illegal,” the young Asian man yelled from the basement door.

  “Get your ass down the basement, son,” Dean shouted, his face going purple.

  “It’s a gray area,” Zac said, already coming up with an angle. “You all right?”

  “I’ve had better days,” Dean wheezed.

  “Luther, come with me.” Zac slapped a fresh mag into his weapon.

  “What’s the plan, bro?” Luther asked.

  “When all else fails—bribery.” Zac let out an overconfident smile. “Got a case of Patrón Silver I’ve been saving as a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Luther kept the pace as they jogged out the kitchen’s back door to the garage.

  Zac did a double take when he realized Luther wore a wild-skull shirt under his flak jacket. He hadn’t noticed it in the tunnel. Somehow it seemed appropriate for the occasion. “Did you go dumpster diving?” Zac razzed, shading his eyes from his shirt.

  “Hey, don’t be messing with my mojo!” Luther narrowed his eyes and let out a deep hearty laugh.

  “Right you are. If they think you’re a crazy fucker, they don’t mess with you.” Zac had used that shtick on occasion.

  Zac always stashed contraband at the lodge. It came in handy. The predators of Zhetto, low-life smugglers, often stalked the more successful smugglers for an easy payday. In some ways, life in Last State hadn’t changed that much, for the ones with the steel cojones were the ones who made sure they stayed at the top of the food chain.

  Once they made it to the garage, which usually housed more horses than vehicles, Zac looked for the black grease mark near the base of the eastern wall. He kicked in the drywall. “Here we go.” Zac pulled away a chunk of drywall. The Patrón Silver labeled box greeted them.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” Luther licked his lips.

  More gunfire. The Enforcers were probably taking out the stragglers.

  Luther gave him a worried look and hurled the case onto his shoulder. “Got it.”

  “Thanks.” Zac’s nerves were going on him. His years on Wall Street, all those trips as guide to Last State, he was always rock-solid. Not today. Because he was worried about Scarlett. A maddening notion haunted him as if he heard Scarlett’s cries for help. Keep it real, he scolded.

  The Enforcers headed for the lodge with their automatic weapons at the ready. Zac took the box from Luther and made eye-contact with each person in the room. “Let me do the talking.” Act like you own it. Zac bolstered his bravado, battling for inner calmness. It was his fast-thinking, cocky-calm persona that had always saved his ass. If his Steve McQueen façade of coolness faltered, he would lose his edge.

  Zac tore open the box to grab a bottle. He exited the lodge, holding the bottle up in the air. He let the tequila label speak for itself. “That was something. The way you swooped in.” The six Enforcers kept their weapons aimed at his head. He didn’t know any of them. My karma’s killing me today.

  “Contraband!” One of the Enforcers yelled like Zac was a terrorist.

  “The best kind.” Zac sported his cockiest grin. Showtime.

  “We have the authority to shoot smugglers on the spot!” the Enforcer with the most stripes on his patch shouted.

  “Aw, smuggler is a harsh word. I’m more of a commodities broker,” Zac boasted. Hard alcohol had been banned, deemed illegal, and was always the most coveted contraband. Last State only allowed Coors beer or a piss-poor version of it. He had scavenged a shitload of alcohol raiding factories and warehouses across the west coast in the name of Last State’s entitled Elites.

  “Keep your hands in the air!” an antsy Enforcer blared.

  “How many inside?” the sergeant demanded.

  “Only four of my team made it. Compadres, you can step outside. Oh, and keep your hands up,” Zac warned. “Luther, bring out the rest of the Patrón. These guys look like they need a shot of tequila after that bloody massacre.”

  Luther stomped out, holding the case of Patrón above his head, muscles flexed. Dean sauntered out like a sheriff from an old John Wayne western. Krasinski wimped out, nursing a broken nose, followed by a skittish Lopez.

  The sergeant’s men frisked them. The Enforcers finally withdrew their weapons. The youngest of the Enforcers kept side-glancing the sarge and finally blustered, “Bribing an Enforcer is not tolerated per Article—”

  “You missed a few. On your nine, ten, and six.” Zac pointed calmly. The three handicapped zombs he’d been keeping his eye on finally crawled their way to the scene.

  The Enforcers slaughtered them, wasting ammo. “It should have only taken three rounds,” Zac said to the sarge.

  “Newbies. Their first Zhetto run. Sergeant Lenovich, here.”

  Zac caught the knowing nod of a smile from the sarge, so unless Dean’s men said something stupid, they were cool. Zac gave each of the men a bottle and then handed the rest of the case to Sergeant Lenovich. “Trust me, my men and I are well aware of the rules in the Zones. But in Zhetto, well the rules are blurry.”

  “Rules are r-rules,” the antsy soldier stuttered.

  “Collins, shut the hell up. You sound like my kindergarten teacher,” Lenovich scolded.

  “Look, I’ve got connections in—let’s just say in the right places. The Elites need things,” Zac stressed. “And my men and I discreetly find these things. No questions asked. Comprendo?”

  Sergeant Lenovich seemed to be catching on. The newbies, not so much. “All I have to do is make one call.” Zac stood his ground. “But, if I make the call, your names will be on the shit list.” He sure hoped he didn’t have to make that call. It would cost him a hell of a lot of LSCs.

  “For the record, I need to scan each of you,” Lenovich asserted.

  “Go ahead, scan me. My co-conspirators are off the grid—if you catch my drift?” Zac held out his hand, ready.

  The scanner beeped. “Fuck me. Why didn’t you say you were one of them? An Elite,” the sarge whispered to his soldiers in obvious astonishment. “Stand down, men. Why are you in Zhetto?”

  Zac feigned a sheepish grin. “I can’t help it if my daddy’s an Elite. Zoner life is, shall we say, blasé—” Zac prattled as flippantly as he could. “So, we done playing cops and robbers?”

  “Everything’s copacetic,” Lenovich assured.

  “Splendid. If my daddy hears about this, he’ll make a mess out of this for all of us, cut off my allowance, and
demote you for the fun of it.”

  “None of this ever happened,” Lenovich confirmed.

  The youngest one saluted Zac. Lenovich smacked him on the head with his cap.

  They waited on the porch for the Humvees to leave; meanwhile, Luther and Dean chuckled behind him. He didn’t look at them, knowing they were all about to let loose with laughter.

  When the Humvees’ exhaust trails dissolved into the distance, they turned to one another. Justin burst through the front door.

  “Son, you were supposed to be in the basement,” Dean snapped.

  “Dude, the Elite status was an awesome comeback,” Justin marveled. “Uh, are you really an Elite?”

  “Just the CitChip. It cost me a hair-raising trip to Florida.” Zac waved his chipped hand. The East Coast swarmed with hordes.

  “You sure you’re not related to Cool Hand Luke?” Dean gawped.

  “Bro, you’re one smooth mutha,” Luther drawled.

  Lopez high-fived him.

  “What about all those Zs—what a putrid-disgusting mess,” Krasinski yelped before barfing in the hedge.

  “Not our problem. They’ll send a HAZMAT team to incinerate them. They can’t risk a new infection. There have been mutations. They are probably calling it in now.”

  “Best we get back inside,” Dean said, already herding everyone in.

  Zac had been worried he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. I still got it. But his nerves had been tweaking the entire time. “Where’s Scarlett?” She was minutes away in one of the cabins he told himself.

  Justin yelled down the basement for the girls to come upstairs and then gave Zac a knowing look. He didn’t have a clue what Justin meant. Ella waddled into the room. The small-framed woman’s swollen belly looked like it was about to pop.

  “Hold on.” Zac frowned. “When’s the last time anyone saw Shotgun Shari?” She should have been there. After all, she was a legal Zhetto citizen.

  Twila bolted into the room and ran into his arms. “I missed you!” Then her golden eyes went dark. “Shari’s dead.”

  Zac searched Ella’s face for an answer. “Is that true?”

  Ella shrugged.

  “Let’s backtrack. Who’s the last one to see Scarlett?” Zac questioned, his thoughts bouncing back to Scarlett.

  “She went to Boom Town for the tea. Uh, six or seven days ago. I lost track,” Ella said, her eyes growing wider by the second. Twila ran to her next.

  Everyone turned to Dean and Luther.

  “Scarlett arrived fit as a fiddle. Come to think of it, she left in a hurry. She had, for lack of a better explanation, a premonition Twila and Ella needed her. She left with the tea. When was that?” Dean looked to Luther.

  “It was more like eight days ago,” Luther said.

  “And she never made it back here?” Zac pressed.

  “Uh, guys, there’s something you should know.” Justin hesitated, “There’s a, a pile of human bones and a shotgun by the trees.”

  The room went silent. Zac didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want it to be Shari. But Scarlett? A sadness seized Zac’s heart. Twila ran back to him. The poor child carried the look of devastation in her eyes.

  “Scarlett rides a horse, right?” Justin blurted. “There was this black horse running around all cray-cray. Like it sorta followed me here all the way from Zoat,” Justin said.

  “Could be Scarlett’s stallion,” Dean said.

  “Onyx knows where Mommy is,” Twila blurted. “But he’s too scared. He stopped talking to me.” Everyone ignored her.

  The moment of truth gut-punched Zac. “That means she’s—”

  “They took Mommy!” Twila screeched.

  Zac looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “Who’s they?”

  “The baaddd ones.” Twila’s voice quivered over each word. The child collapsed at his feet.

  Everyone bustled about Twila while Zac stood there—transfixed. A dank-darkness seemed to shroud him. His soul wrenched with pain. Terror. He refused the irrational fear closing in on him. Was he suffering from PTSD? Flashes of Scarlett’s dimpled smile transformed into melting flesh. He shook away the grotesque image. A cave materialized in the depths of his mind. And then it came to him in a meteoric flash. She was being held prisoner in a cave. But who were her captives?

  “Zombs!” His consciousness answered.

  Chapter 33

  Ella Vasquez-Chen sat on the thread-bearing sofa in the lodge’s front sitting room with Twila sleeping on her shoulder. Poor girl, this demonic world was too much for a child, especially one as sensitive as Twila. Justin, Dean, Luther, and Zac watched the front windows while Lopez and Krasinski guarded the back door in the kitchen. Everyone was basically waiting around for the Blue Suits to leave.

  Mindy and her baby sat in the lounge chair. The pale, blond-headed girl didn’t talk much. Ella had the impression the seventeen-year-old mother didn’t want to exist. She understood Mindy’s hopelessness, hoping beyond all hope things would get better because she had a child to take care of. Ella had suffered through those bleak days at Last Chance, desperately trying to save her baby. Until the unthinkable had happened. Would the eager unborn soul swelling inside her womb once again fall prey to the demon’s curse?

  “Good sign. The Blue Suits are mopping up the area,” Zac said with a hint of relief in his voice.

  “Disinfecting?” Dean asked.

  “It’s standard procedure after an outbreak,” Justin chimed in.

  Justin had been unusually quiet. The past few months had changed her husband. He wasn’t the hilarious, carefree guy she once knew. This harsh world had stolen it from him. She blamed herself. Living in Last State had been her obsession. And it had all turned out wrong. He had risked everything to find her. Their twin flame bond must be keeping them eternally connected.

  Ella didn’t know Zac well. But she trusted him with her life. He had saved her from the Z-covered carriage nearly a year ago. Once again, he had shown up in her time of need. They must have a cosmic connection as well. Why else had they been reunited just when she was about to give birth again? To her it was sinful—a curse—bringing a child into this evil world. She wondered if Mindy felt the same remorse. She looked forward to a heart-to-heart with Mindy. They had a lot in common to talk about.

  “I thought they had the Zhetto outbreaks under control,” Zac said.

  “Dude, one of my jobs was monitoring the live feed. They had a horde outbreak the day Ella went on her first Zhetto Tour. They even have outbreaks in the Zones. They just keep it under wraps.”

  Ella remembered the horrifying day at the market. She pushed the memories to the far reaches of her mind. She couldn’t deal with it, not with mijo kicking in her belly.

  “I watched you and Scarlett escape that day.” Justin turned to her with agony taking over his lovely Asian eyes.

  Ella blotted out Justin’s words as he told everyone his side of the story. He couldn’t possibly know the terror she had gone through. It reminded her of the outbreak she had escaped the day she had gone apartment hunting without him. It happened to be the same day she had found out she was pregnant. It was like an evil entity was determined to destroy all new life.

  “Am I missing something? I thought the whole point of Last State was”—Luther emphasized—“safety.”

  “It’s just the safest place we know of,” Zac interjected. “I’ve heard rumors of another safe zone. Where people aren’t controlled by the Elites’ oppressive Rule of Law. Honestly, after I retired from the tour guide business, I started searching for the secret community people talk about. Could be urban legend.”

  “Looks like they’re pulling out,” Dean said with relief.

  Another safe zone. Ella wasn’t ready to get her hopes up over another stupid urban legend. Dean smiled at her as if reading her thoughts. She was amazed Dean had survived this long. He was tough. Brave. Her thoughts rambled on. Why did Scarlett have to die? She didn’t bother brushing
away the tears. Who gives a crap? She could blame the tears on her overactive hormones.

  Twila sprang to her feet. “Mommy’s not dead. You can’t give up.” All heads turned to Twila.

  Dean rushed to the girl.

  “You have to save her!” Twila pointed to Zac.

  Scarlett’s face appeared in Ella’s mind. “Is she—alive?” Ella gasped.

  Twila nodded defiantly. “I know things! But no one ever listens to me except Mommy. Shari’s mission is done. She had to go ’cause the Ancient Ones found out she was helping the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity. She taught us, even though she was scared. See, she knew they would destroy her. Ooh, they make me so mad!”

  Was it true? Poor Shari. More tears slipped down Ella’s cheeks. Shari had sacrificed so much for them. Besides the metaphysical teachings, Shari had taught her to make baby food and all kinds of tincture remedies for the baby. Shari had told Ella about several rare herbs from her spirit dreams.

  “There, there, everything’s gonna be just fine.” Dean was always wanting to take care of everyone, keeping everyone happy and protected.

  “Ella,” Twila shouted, “make them understand. Shari taught us the magical energies of crystals. And, and, the powers of manifestation, and, and—” Twila stopped her outburst in mid-sentence.

  The men looked at Twila as if she might be insane.

  “It’s all true,” Ella whispered, wiping the tears from her own face.

  Mindy nodded. “I was guided. The beautiful woman with the light-blue eyes is why I’m here. She has special powers. She is the Protector of the New Human.”

  Ella hadn’t thought of Scarlett as a protector for the new world. But, it was possible. Scarlett had always seemed to be at the right place at the right time. Until now.

  “Ye-ah, Scarlett was—is—a kick-ass when she wants to be. But special powers? You’ve been watching too much Power Rangers,” Justin scoffed.

  Twila kicked the coffee table’s leg. Uh-oh, here comes a tantrum. Ella stifled a nervous giggle. Twila was always headstrong with her beliefs.

  “Mommy’s a warrior in the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity. Duh, everybody knows that,” Twila huffed. “That’s why the good ones need her help. The bad ones think her blood will save them. And, and the Ancient Ones want her—dead! ’Cause she can change the Akashic Records. And save humanity. You need to listen to your dreams. The answers are there if you would just listen.”