Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 2): The Hunger's Howl

by Popovich, A. D.

  “I don’t need your help. I’ve got the money.”

  “Uh, Scarlett, before you get all feministic on me, Texas isn’t what you think. Put it this way; if the four of you try to get in without my help, you’ll all end up on the auction block.”

  “What? You’re just trying to manipulate me.”

  “An unmarried woman, especially one of your, uh, stature. Things get nasty. You need to be married. I’ll just make you my wife.”

  “Like hell!”

  “Let me finish. If you go there unmarried, Last State will have you and Ella married off to the highest bidder in the first week to God knows whom. And Twila, well, kiss her goodbye. The Elite bigshots will pay a million bucks for a healthy child.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she huffed.

  “Exactly, how many children have you seen lately?”

  Besides Twila, she’d only seen baby Miguel.

  “I should be back in ten days or so, then we’ll go together. I can bypass the whole Immigrant Station nightmare.”

  “What about the blood test and the quarantine?”

  “I’ll handle it,” he said.

  “What if one of us is infected?”

  “Well, you aren’t.”

  It sounded like something he’d say. “So, the rules they so carefully put in place don’t apply to you? What if you snuck in an infected person? It could infect the entire state. And destroy Texas.”

  “Sure, I bend the rules. But I’m not the only one. There are more Class-Z citizens there than you’d think.”

  “And they would risk it all?” It was unfathomable to her. Corruption seemed to be humanity’s worst defect.

  “It’s the same story all over again. Money talks the loudest. Smile.” The camera clicked.

  She flashed him one of Twila’s famous cross-eyed faces. “Well, I’m not going with you.” Scarlett folded her arms.

  He clicked the camera again. “I knew you were a hardheaded dame. It would mean a lot to me,” he said, turning on the charm.

  “So you can own me as a wife? What about Ella?”

  He didn’t say anything. He paced around the smokers, opening and closing the lids and scuffing his boots into the sandy ground. “I’ll have to make Ella my wife, too.”

  “You bastard. Two wives? Really! Ella’s only seventeen. You pathetic, deranged, egotistical, SOB—”

  “Scarlett, Last State’s not what you think. It’s—screwed up. Greed, power, sex. You’ve got the Elites, then there are the rest of us. Still, it’s the safest place until they detox the rest of the nation.”

  “Sheena didn’t say things were so bad.”

  “Then why isn’t she there right now?”

  “She’s a Class-Z. She’s opening a bakery in Boom Town.”

  He shook his head and then finally spoke. “Don’t believe everything you hear, my Dear Scarlett.”

  “You, for starters!” she whispered between clenched teeth.

  “All right, all right, I’ll get Sheena into Last State—if that’s what it takes to get you the hell out of here.” Zac threw up his arms.

  “Right.” Scarlett laughed. “Sheena—your wife? Good luck with that.”

  “Hell no. Sheena can obviously take care of herself.”

  “Oh really, and I can’t?” She fumed. “May I remind you, I came halfway across the country with Twila without your help, you egotistical—”

  He rushed to her, grabbed her in his arms, and kissed her, leaving no room for the imagination as their hands urgently roamed each other’s bodies. She wanted to slap him, and yet she couldn’t let go of his kiss. Just another moment, she decided. Without warning, her anger transformed into desire. How long had it been since she had indulged in the intimacy of a man? Her groin clenched so tightly she thought she might go orgasmic right then and there. Before she could stop it—before she wanted to stop it—her overalls fell to her ankles.

  “You’re exquisite,” he murmured. He picked her up and then carried her into the boxcar. With one swoop, he cleared the stacked smoked-fish bundles to the floor. Then they were on the sales counter. Her, long, curly hair, still damp from her shower, draped over her breasts. Soon it was the only covering she had.

  Scarlett didn’t care about his ulterior motives as long as he didn’t stop kissing her. Her soul devoured his kisses like a nearly-dead rosebud dying before it’s time. Her lips searched his for the gift of life since love was no longer a luxury one dared risk.

  He found his way gently inside of her, thrusting deeper and deeper, penetrating her soul until they were one, lost in their own cosmic rhythm. Her groin clenched tighter and tighter, holding her captive in a perpetual near-orgasmic state, not releasing just building and building into a euphoric thunderhead in the cosmos, consuming mind, body, and soul. Until . . . the lightning let loose, sending a million zingy bolts of ecstasy into her root chakra up to her crown. She shuddered uncontrollably and let out a rapturous moan. In that timeless moment of bliss, she fell deeply into his eyes. His entire life flashed through her—his sadness, love, and the anger and agony of this new world. She understood him—at that moment.

  Zac’s eyes fluttered. His thrusting rhythm continued, firmer, faster, farther, waiting for his moment of ecstasy. His body tensed, pulsated as if holding back his release as long as he could, savoring it. And after he finally came inside of her with a moan so loud she was sure everyone at the camp heard, they let out exhilarating gasps of contentment. They collapsed onto one another. She listened to their synchronized breathing, not wanting to ruin the moment. Satiated.

  A pounding on the metal boxcar nearly had them crashing onto the floor. “You two still alive? It’s been quiet for a while. Um, yeah, the breakfast crowd’s getting antsy.” It was Sheena; her tone was absolutely hysterical.

  Scarlett was mortified, overcome with embarrassment. Zac groaned.

  “You might want these—” The smoker side of the boxcar door slid open, and a hand presented Scarlett’s overalls.

  Zac snatched them and closed the door. “Give us a minute, will ya?” he snapped.

  “Bad timing. My bad.” Sheena laughed all the way to her boxcar.

  The next thing Scarlett knew she was laughing so hard, she could barely get dressed. They stumbled around the boxcar trying to put on their clothes, giggling like guilty highschool sweethearts. Meanwhile, a series of cheers came from the front of the boxcar.

  “Jeez Louise, I’ll never live this one down.”

  “There are worst things to be known for.” Zac flashed his devilishly-handsome grin, the one she loved and hated at the same time, depending on what was happening.

  “Maybe for you! Was I too, uh, vocal? It’s been a while,” she offered vaguely. She thought back to Kevin. Sex had never been anything like that. Then again, perhaps living on the edge of tomorrow gave one more appreciation for those intimate moments.

  “Scarlett?” His whisper lingered softly in her ear.

  She saw the silent question whirling in his head, cloaked in darkness. Was the darkness his own fears, or was it a warning of imminent danger?

  He grabbed her gently by her shoulders. “I want you to be with me in Texas. We can start a new life there. Until we find a better place.”

  “Better than Texas? I thought Texas was the better place.” She was confused.

  He ignored her. “Wait for me. And hell, I’ll take all of your friends. I have an off-the-grid farmhouse on a parcel of land where you can stay until things really get bad.”

  “I didn’t come all this way to hide. Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘get bad—’?”

  Pounding on the side of the boxcar again. “You lovebirds done yet?” an impatient voice shouted.

  Scarlett didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think; her brain was overloaded, confused. Instead, she finished getting dressed and then busied herself with restacking the fish on the counter.

  “Scarlett?” His eyes seemed desperate. He wrote something on her notepad. “This is the add
ress—if things go sour. I know what you must be thinking. But for God’s sake, wait for me.”

  She couldn’t answer him. Was he playing her? Their magical moment had vanished by the time she opened the boxcar to a line of customers. A wave of applause erupted. Scarlett felt herself blushing, her long, wavy hair wild from their romping. In jest, she took a royal bow to hide her embarrassment. She hadn’t even bothered to smear her face with soot. She felt a renewed sense of empowerment in revealing her femininity. She had evolved from the insecure, naïve, spoiled woman she had been in Roseville. She was strong. A warrior!

  Zac. Did she love him? Or had their romantic encounter merely been a moment of much-needed passion? A substitute for love. If a substitute was all she could have, she’d take it.

  Zac stared at the cheering crowd a bit awkwardly. “What the hell?” He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a long kiss, waving on the catcalls. He leaned into her ear. “I have to leave. By the way, I need forty pounds of fish.”

  “You had to spoil the moment,” she said with a coy grin. “Take what you need. I’ll put it on your tab.”

  He answered with twinkling eyes.

  The first man in line shouted, “I’ll take the same deal you gave him.”

  “That was the Early Bird Special,” she joked. And she served the customers without a care in the world.

  ***

  By dinner, Scarlett was still lost in la-la land, reliving their brief interlude, kiss by kiss.

  “Mommy’s in love. I can’t wait to grow up!” Twila announced across the caboose’s tiny table.

  Ella couldn’t stifle her giggles. Even baby Miguel giggled. Sheena, on the other hand, didn’t look so pleased.

  “Could use some help at the corral,” Sheena said, splashing her plate into the dish bucket.

  Scarlett nodded, bracing for something. Something hard. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t let anything tarnish those precious moments she’d had with Zac. Reluctantly, she followed Sheena to the corral.

  “So, let me get this straight. He got the fish and screwed you. And he wants you and Ella as wives.” Sheena gave her the disappointed-parent stare. “You’re an easy mark. You can’t trust everybody.”

  Scarlett avoided eye contact. She certainly didn’t appreciate Sheena’s scolding. She already felt guilty as it was—guilty for that brief moment when the world was perfect.

  “I get the sex thing. It’s the dreamy schoolgirl look in your eyes that scares me. You don’t have to science the shit out of it. Life’s tough, then you die. Simple philosophy. But, you only get screwed—if you’re stupid enough to let it happen.” Sheena stopped as if waiting for Scarlett to defend herself.

  Did Sheena just call her stupid? Scarlett kept quiet. Sheena was her friend and had probably saved their lives. And Zac? Well, he was Zac. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him.

  “You think I’m a pessimist,” Sheena continued her lecture. “In actuality, I’m a realist. A defense lawyer for all those years, I’ve seen just about every type of human treachery imaginable. Until this shit happened. So, in a way, it prepared me. But, I can’t hold your hand forever. You’ve got to get real. Because as God is my witness, I’m making it. No matter what it takes.”

  “I’m tougher than you think. I made it this far. Right?” Scarlett finally responded.

  “Are you marrying him or what?” Sheena lashed.

  Scarlett turned away, caught by surprise by the waves of jealousy flowing from Sheena. She clasped onto the paper with his address in her pocket, already missing him, yearning for him. As if touching it allowed her to absorb Zac’s essence. Already craving his touch . . . The answer was suddenly clear. She’d leave Last Chance the first opportunity she could, whether it was with Sheena or Zac. It was the only answer, even if it was for the wrong reason.

  One of the camp’s guards rode up. “Sheena, Krasinski needs you. Asap.”

  “We’ll talk later. Keep your head in the game, girlfriend.” Sheena stomped off.

  Scarlett thought about what Sheena had said. First of all, Sheena used to accept money for getting guilty people off. Her outlook on life was a bit jaded. Scarlett still had faith in the Human Race. Look at Twila, Ella, and baby Miguel. They were worth risking everything. There was always room for hope and maybe even a bit of love despite the wickedness of this new world. Afterall, somebody’s God must be out there, rooting for humanity.

  The Silver Lady’s voice answered. “Don’t let the darkness overshadow the light, for darkness is the illusion . . .”

  Chapter 33

  Justin connected their last propane canister to the Coleman camping stove. They were running out of everything: food, gas, and patience. They had finally found the IMMIGRANT CROSSING signs Sheena had told them about, only there was no bridge. Since April, they’d been patrolling and camping along the eastern banks of the Rio Grande. They had made contact with several wagons caravans but not Father Jacob’s.

  Justin dumped two cans of chili con carne and a big can of yellow hominy into a camping pot. He didn’t like the sidelong glances Dean and Luther kept giving him while they checked out the blown bridge. Dean and Luther had hinted around all day it was time to end the search. He wasn’t ready to give up. Dean was just a fuddy-duddy, too tired and too old to do anything and had no one left to live for. And Luther had been unusually quiet, making Justin think he had his own secret agenda. But Ella was waiting for him. Somewhere.

  Justin stirred the pot impatiently and ignored their grim expressions when they finally joined him for dinner. He dished three bowls of what Dean hashtagged goulash, which was whatever they threw together in a pot. He handed Luther the bowl with the largest portion. The dude was looking gaunt these days, considering he used to weigh three-hundred and something pounds.

  Dean pulled up a seat on a mini-lawn chair. “Must be Sunday if we’re having goulash,” Dean plugged in a cheery-fake tone as if it were their best meal of the week.

  Here it comes. Justin had a sick feeling Dean and Luther were bailing on him and going back to sunny-Z-light California.

  The three of them sat around the Trav eating their dinners and panning their surroundings. Dean cleared his throat a little too loudly. “Looks like this bridge was intentionally blown just like all the other ones. We’re running out of options,” Dean said with a hint of warning.

  “It’s the fifth blown bridge this week. I don’t like it one iota,” Luther muttered next, sideglancing Dean.

  “Ye-ah, like who goes around blowing up bridges?” Justin ranted, bracing himself for what they were going to say next.

  Dean rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Son, hate to be the one to break it to you. Thing is, we’ve reached the point of no return. We don’t have much fuel left.”

  “I know, I know. I can’t believe both of you are giving up on Ella,” Justin blurted prematurely.

  “In the grand scheme of things, what’d you reckon the odds are of finding her after all this time?” Dean looked at Luther.

  “It’s been six months,” Luther said with lowered eyes. “Everyday we don’t find her—”

  “Dude, that’s why we can’t stop.” Justin was exasperated. “We’ll find another bridge.” What’s so hard about that? He wanted to scream but he held it back, trying to keep his cool.

  “We could’ve missed Father Jacob’s caravan when we were scrounging fuel on the interstate,” Luther added.

  It was one of Justin’s constant nagging fears. What if—he had missed Ella by a day?

  “As it is, we’ll have to coast our way into Gallup. Ol’ Luther and I mulled things over. Our best bet is to connect to Interstate 40 in the hopes of scavenging enough fuel to get us home. Then,” there was an uncomfortable pause, “you’re more than welcome to join me in Winters,” Dean offered.

  “Really? You already decided everything without me?” Justin was super pissed.

  “Son, we all want to find Ella. Thing is—”

  “Ye-ah, you don’t act like it.” Justi
n threw his half-empty bowl to the ground. He needed to blow off his anger before he said something he’d regret. He stomped to the river, walking along the embankment. There had to be a way. He rambled south until the Trav was a glimmering spec in the fading sunlight. How were the immigrants crossing the Rio Grande if there were no freaking bridges? And how long was this freaking river? It was everywhere.

  After a while, he sat down under a short scrubby tree and stared into the river as the sun melted into the desert. Across the river, he noticed movement. What the heck? His binoculars were in the Trav. “Guys, guys,” he shouted, but they were too far away. Justin took off running. People. People were coming.

  Justin slid to a halt in the sandy ground next to Dean and Luther.

  “What’s got you all riled up?” Dean asked.

  “They’re coming!”

  Luther was already scoping the area with binoculars. “Yup, looks like a large group. I see trucks,” Luther confirmed.

  Justin zoomed in on the vehicles. “Trucks.”

  “Could spell trouble. Better get ready for it,” Dean warned, eyeing the fast-approaching vehicles.

  Trucks were the last thing Justin expected in the middle of the freaking desert. What if Ella’s with them? “Shouldn’t we warn them about the bridge?” Justin worried.

  Luther flashed the Trav’s headlights several times until the trucks responded back with flashing lights.

  “That’s ’bout all we can do,” Dean said.

  “You see that? An eighteen-wheeler,” Luther said.

  “What the heck is a semi doing out here?” Justin rambled. The four trucks stopped at the westbank. Men jumped out of the trucks and began unloading equipment.

  “What in tarnation?” Dean muttered.

  They stood around debating the possibilities. Lights flashed on, illuminating the desert like a post-nuclear Vegas strip.

  “Portable Halogen lights,” Luther announced. “The kind Caltrans uses for night roadwork.”

  Several men loaded a boat with equipment. The moment they started crossing the river, Justin dashed to the eastbank eager to find out what the heck was going on.