The momentum sent him into an unstoppable roll. He went with the flow. Wouldn’t you know, he collided with the worn-out boots of a dead-head. The crash sent it flying over him, giving Dean time to unsheathe the trench knife from his belt. A second later, it pounced onto him with the sickly-sweet breath of death. In a lethal slash, he severed its rotting head. But several pairs of shoddy shoes shuffled closer. Surrounding him.
Gunfire blasted his eardrums. Dead-heads spasmed to the ground next to him while he scrambled on all fours, unable to find his feet. There was one thing he had learned as of late. Adrenaline-spiked fear had a way of numbing his arthritis. He looked up to find Lopez of all people. Dean was at a loss for words.
“Hey there, Sheriff Wormer. I owed you one,” his former Boom Town deputy shouted.
“Am I ever glad to see you.”
Lopez yanked him to his feet. Meanwhile, a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire took out the rest of the horde.
When the shooting finally stopped, Luther popped up from the grasses shouting, “Don’t shoot me.”
Dean did a double-take. “Hold your fire. That’s Luther, my partner.”
Luther approached with caution, eyeballing Lopez with obvious suspicion. “Lopez, whut up—”
“Where’s Krasinski?” Dean interrupted, anticipating trouble.
“The weasel took off for that homeless camp up north, Tent City,” Lopez practically spat. “But hey, Stanwyck offered me a security job when I told them I worked as a deputy at Boom Town.”
With that, Luther and Lopez fist-bumped.
Lopez had been a decent fellow all and all, a reliable deputy, always Johnny-on-the-spot during a crisis. After Last State decommissioned Boom Town by blowing it to smithereens during the Raver attack, Lopez and Krasinski had been among the few who had escaped with them into Last State via Zac’s now-defunct smuggler tunnel.
Stanwyck’s men made their way to Dean. “Fellas, can’t thank you enough. You got here in the nick of time.” Though his old bones were already protesting his stuntman antics.
“Anyone bit?” one of the men yelled out.
The men eyed each other warily as if waiting to see who would turn first. “Everyone’s good,” Lopez announced.
Diaz turned to Dean. “You Padilla’s partner?”
“Yep,” Dean responded without hesitation, putting on his best poker face. According to Zac, Diaz was Stanwyck’s right-hand man.
“What the hell happened?” Diaz demanded.
“I was on my way to see Mr. Stanwyck when those bastards ambushed me,” Dean explained.
“Ambushed? Impossible.” Diaz gawped. “Enforcers gave us the all-clear earlier this afternoon. Said, this place was locked-down. Tight.”
“Improbable, but not impossible,” Dean dared to dicker. “They were waiting for me.” Or someone.
“Bullshit! They would have gone for the Blue Suits first,” Diaz continued.
Dean didn’t bother debating. He spun toward the Blue Suits, wondering how they had faired.
“We’re fucked,” shouted a man with a pair of binoculars to his head. “Infecteds have us surrounded. Over there!” He gestured wildly. “And there.”
“And over here,” another voice wailed.
Dean and Luther exchanged a pensive it-ain’t-over stare.
“Men—in position!” Diaz ordered. The men backed together and formed a circle. Luther and Dean joined in.
Tuft by tuft, the grasses bent over as if a nest of snakes slithered toward their prey. “Say, Luther, can you spare an old fella a couple of mags?”
“Got you covered.” Luther handed him two mags from his pack while the men’s circle grew even tighter.
“Men, lock and load,” Diaz commanded. “Shoot without prejudice!”
Dean slapped in a mag just as the X-strain army sprang into action and charged them. Head shots only, Dean reminded himself. He had to conserve his ammo since it took a minimum of two rounds to the brain to kill these bastards. The good thing was, Diaz’s men had automatic weapons, and Luther had his M4.
They fired into the horde, firing until a two-foot pile of rotten corpses encircled them. When the last dead-head crumpled at Luther’s feet, the men held their fire. How many were still out there? Lurking in the grasses? Hesitant faces glanced at one another as the wind whipped at the plains.
“We’d better get our asses back to the big house,” Diaz yawped. He clicked on his radio. “Get Stanwyck on the line.”
“What in God’s name just happened?” the voice on the radio blasted back.
“A damn X-strain horde just attacked us.” Diaz looked at Dean with a knowing nod. “More like ambushed us. Call back the Enforcers—and tell them to do their goddamn job this time. That’s why we pay extortionist taxes!”
“Holy Mother of God! Look at that,” a terror-stricken voice prattled.
The Blue Suits who had been mopping the kill zone from the earlier incident lurched their way. Had they been victims of friendly fire, or had the X-strains recruited them? The powder-blue suits stumbled toward them like aliens unaccustomed to Earth’s gravity. Automatic gunfire made fast work of them.
“Men, secure the inner perimeter,” Diaz ordered. He turned to Dean and Luther. “Did Zac leave in the helicopter?”
“Yup,” Luther grunted.
“Why’d you leave the bunkhouse?” Diaz’s tone went accusatory.
Dean decided against the small talk. This fellow was the no-nonsense sort. “Zac mentioned Stanwyck might be able to help us with our petrol situation. I’m embarrassed to admit, the pickup’s out of gas.”
“Hey, Lopez!” Diaz shouted, motioning Lopez to return.
“Yeah, boss?” Lopez carefully stepped over the fowl, decomposing corpses.
“Take Zac’s men to the bunkhouse.” Diaz turned to Dean. “Unless you and your team want to join us at the big house? We could use more eyes ’til they get this RedDead Alert under control.” Diaz wiped his brow. “Haven’t seen this many Infecteds since my Idaho days.”
Dean went tongue-tied. Of course, they couldn’t join them. Not with the women and children. He didn’t care how much Zac trusted Mr. Stanwyck.
“Thanks, bro. We’re good.” Luther flashed his pearly whites.
“Then you’re on your own.” Diaz stomped to his off-road Jeep. “Don’t expect us to save your ass next time.”
Lopez sat behind the wheel of his pickup and tapped the horn. Dean took the front seat after Luther hopped into the back. No one said a word as they headed for the bunkhouse. They were back to square one. All the while, Dean wondered how many dead-heads were out there.
Waiting . . .
Chapter 3
Justin Chen zoomed in on Dean speeding off in the truck to the Stanwyck’s mansion. He had wanted to go with Dean, but Ella’s searing glare had reminded him how much she needed him. If only for moral support. They were parents, again. This time he was making all the right decisions.
“Grandpa Dean!” Twila shattered the silence.
“What the—” Justin quickly snapped back when a horde spawned out of freaking nowhere, flash-mobbing the truck. “Luther! Dean’s in trouble!”
Luther dropped the pack he was sorting through. “Good God Almighty!” He grabbed his M4, burst out the bunkhouse’s front door, and took off for Dean like an insane linebacker on a race against the clock.
“Where’s Luther going?” Ella cried out.
Scarlett’s sky-blue eyes shrouded over with fear. She obviously wasn’t back to her kick-ass self. The kidnapping had taken its toll. At least she had changed out of that outrageous Elvira-like gown. So unlike her.
Justin couldn’t let Dean die out there. “I’m going for him!”
Scarlett shook her head slowly. Sadly. “Stay here.” Her voice cracked.
“Fine,” he uttered under his breath. He watched the Z-covered truck through the binoculars, praying. The sporadic gunshots were his only confirmation Dean hadn’t bit the dust. But when the gunshots stopped
. . .
Several trucks appeared in his viewfinder. “Awesomeness!” Must be Stanwyck’s men. They raced toward Dean. “C’mon, faster!” Justin cheered on as if they could hear.
“Is Dean okay?” Ella’s high-pitch revealed her panic.
“Help’s on the way! Looks like Stanwyck’s men are crashing the party,” Justin said while Scarlett scurried from window to window.
“What just happened?” Did Dean purposely dive out of the truck? He disappeared into the tall brassy grasses. And Zs dove after him!
“Silver Lady, please save Grandpa Dean!” Twila screeched.
“Holy shit! He let the binocs dangle around his neck. Another horde animated from the grasses. But it was the men with automatic weapons that sent him into a state of fear-laced panic he tagged, “fanic.” “Everyone! Hug the floor. Like now!”
“I’ll cover Ella!” Scarlett screamed from the other side of the room.
Justin dove for Twila, knocking her down. He shielded her body with his the same time Scarlett made it to the floor with Ella and Mateo. A rage of gunfire peppered the building. Bullets pinged off metal like those old-time westerns, and sunlight streaked in through the bullet holes. All they could do was wait for it to stop.
“Are they done yet?” Ella whimpered after several seconds of silence.
“Stay down,” Justin breathlessly urged as he crawled to the window. He focused in on the scene, afraid Dean and Luther hadn’t made it.
“O-M-G! Say something!” Ella moaned. “Are they okay?”
“Yay! Grandpa Dean and Uncle Luther are safe,” Twila cried out before Justin confirmed it with the binocs.
He turned to Ella. “I don’t know how they survived that one. The horde had them surrounded. And—”
The terror in Ella’s eyes shouted, Zip it.
“No, no, no,” Scarlett muttered. “Something’s wrong!”
“Holy sh—!” He kept forgetting he had promised to stop swearing around the kids, thanks to Ella’s nagging. If ever there were a time for cursing, a zombie apocalypse had to be in the top five.
“Guys, remember the Blue Suits?” The newbie Zs teetered and tottered with outstretched arms toward the men. “The HAZMAT Team just turned zombie on them.” He shook away the horrific scene, knowing he could never unsee it.
“Wait—what?” Ella faltered.
“Crap! Back to the floor,” Justin warned when the men went into a defensive stance with pointed weapons.
Justin waited several seconds after the gunfire ceased before checking on Dean and Luther again. “They’re okay, high-fiving and talking.”
“Yay!” Twila jumped up and down.
Scarlett rubbed her head. “Twila, sweetie—shhh. My head’s pounding.”
“There’s aspirin in the bathroom cabinet,” Ella said.
“I’ll get it.” Twila darted off.
“Hey!” Justin recognized one of the men. “That’s Lopez from Boom Town.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Ella retreated back onto her bunk with Mateo.
“Meh, Lopez is cool.” He didn’t trust his sidekick, Krasinski. Justin was far more worried over the sudden appearance of the new hordes.
An unwanted premonition revealed that all the Zs in Zoat were escaping. But sometimes his overactive imagination was too much. Even for him. Still, if it had been a legit ESP moment, it would take days, maybe weeks for Last State to neutralize that many Zs. In the meantime, he understood what Twila had said—no place was safe.
“What’s happening now?” Ella asked.
Justin focused in. “Looks like Lopez’s bringing Dean and Luther back here.”
Scarlett frowned questionably. She was too disoriented to trust her sporadic intuition. It was up to him to call the shots until Dean and Luther returned.
Justin analyzed every detail of their situation. Lopez and Krasinski had helped fight the horde at Zac’s lodge. But soon after, they had stolen Zac’s other truck, disappearing without saying goodbye. And, they know about the women and children. So, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he trusted Lopez. Although, Lopez was an illegal. He might snitch on them in exchange for citizenship.
What would Dean do? “Guys, I mean women. And children,” Justin said, trying to be politically correct, “hide in the bathroom.”
Justin shooed them into the large bathroom before they could argue. He sprinted out the door to meet the men outside. The truck stopped in the clearing in front of the bunkhouse. “Wow! You guys kicked some zombie-butt,” Justin hooted. But really, the massacre had made him nauseous. Not so much the gore factor. It reminded him how difficult it would be to keep Ella and Mateo safe in the Lost States now that turbo-charged Zs were the new norm.
Lopez waved out the window to him. “How’s your wife?”
Shit, here it goes. “Didn’t they tell you?” Justin turned to Dean. “Ella didn’t make it—” Liar, liar, pants on fire, he could almost hear his mom scolding.
Dean butted in as Justin pretended to wipe away invisible tears. “Afraid the gals didn’t survive the attack at the lodge. As it was, we barely escaped.”
“Bro”—Luther’s turn to plug their story—“those muthers dug in through the damn basement.” He shook a fist in the air.
Lopez flinched. “Man, that’s just evil. What’re your plans?”
“Wait for Zac,” Dean took over. “Then maybe head south—”
“Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. I’m in tight with old man Stanwyck,” Lopez said.
“Say, we could use some petrol,” Dean said.
“Sure. That’s the least I can do after you helped me escape the attack on Boom Town.”
Lopez’s radio squawked. “Yeah?”
Justin couldn’t make out what the other side said.
“Be right there!” Lopez turned to them with a terse smile. “A horde’s approaching the north forty. Gotta scram. I’ll be back with gas after the RedDead Alert.” Lopez zoomed off.
Dean didn’t look so good. His face had gone pale, and he had a limp. “Are you okay?” Justin hurried to him.
“Nothin’ a healthy shot of Crown Royal wouldn’t fix.” Dean brushed it off.
“Why’d you leave the truck?” Justin asked.
“Wouldn’t you know. It ran out of gas smackdab in the middle of the dern horde,” Dean said flatly.
“I don’t know about you all—” Luther eyed the plains warily and rubbed his juju bead bracelet. Funny, the toughest of them was also the most superstitious. “I don’t think we should wait for Lopez. Hell only knows when they’ll call off the RedDead Alert.”
They all stared at the vast wasteland of golden wheat-like grasses. Then boom! He saw it. “Guys, guys!” Justin wiggled his brows knowingly.
Dean and Luther instantaneously cocked their weapons.
Luther swiveled from side to side, peering through the M4 scope. “I’m not seeing anything.”
They were looking in the wrong direction. “The Blue Suit’s van. Can go anywhere,” Justin said. “The digital plates have all-access clearance.”
They stared at the white van with Last State’s official seal emblazoned on the side until that aha look swept across Dean and Luther’s faces.
“That’s whut I’m talking about!” Luther fist-bumped him.
Scarlett called them inside, probably anxious to know what the heck was going on. Twila reached Dean first and nearly knocked him over with a wild hug.
“I see that gleam in your eyes.” Scarlett called them on it. “A plan?”
“The HAZMAT van’s”—Justin paused dramatically—“just sitting there.” That got a grin of recognition from Ella.
“I agree with Luther,” Dean sided. “We can’t wait for the RedDead Alert to be called off. We won’t last long here.”
“Not without a shitload of ammo,” Luther hooted like a diehard Marine.
“They might search the bunkhouse next time,” Scarlett said, still monitoring the windows.
“Mommy,” Twi
la cut in, “the Silver Lady says they found us. This time they’re sending all the bad ones . . .” Fear seemed to ooze from her trembling voice.
“Hell’s bells,” Dean croaked. “Twila, you absolutely sure ’bout that?”
Twila’s slow eerie nod sent a wave of goosebumps up Justin’s arms and down his back. She was hardly ever scared. Bossy and sassy, yes. But not scared.
“We have to listen to her!” Ella demanded with her “caps-lock voice” on.
Scarlett’s hands flew to her head. “Probing. I can’t block them any longer. Sorry, I haven’t recovered from my—incident. I drank some of Ella’s monatomic tea. I’m still a bit spaced-out.”
Dean rubbed his stubbled chin. “It’s settled. We’re taking the van! And going to—”
“Don’t say it!” Twila blurted. “Don’t even think about the place. Make your thoughts go fuzzy.”
Justin side-eyed Luther. This was the part that creeped him out. Regular zombies, he could deal with. But mindreading-paranormal-supernatural Zs gave him the willies.
Ella’s big, beautiful, brown eyes brimmed over with tears. “We have to save mijo.” She kissed Mateo’s curly black hair. His heart wrenched at the thought of losing their son.
“I won’t let them hurt your baby,” Twila nearly spat.
“Alrighty folks, no time to dilly-dally,” Dean said, panning the plains. “We need to get that van. No doubt, Diaz and his men are reconning the property for dead-heads. How ’bout the fellas go out the back and sneak to the van? Staying below the grass line.”
“And what if we can’t find the keys and, and, and—” Justin started having an attack of the what-ifs. What if this turned out to be a shitty idea? What if they couldn’t start the van? What if they encountered a horde and turned—and Enforcers took Ella and Mateo?
“Bro, I can boost the van,” Luther boasted.
“Since when?” Justin was blown away by his statement.
“One of my hobbies before I scored my pro-ball contract. How’d you think I survived the apocalypse?”
“Like, why didn’t you ever teach me—”
Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home Page 3
