Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home

by Popovich, A. D.

  “About two miles. We’re still in the commercial zone,” Justin advised.

  Mateo’s bawling went vibrato. He was way too loud.

  Tears pooled in Ella’s eyes. “I’ll try to nurse him. But he shouldn’t be hungry yet.”

  Justin struggled to maintain his cool. “Take him in the bathroom. To buffer the noise.”

  “Wait!” Twila yelled.

  That’s when he heard it. Erratic thumping coming from the gender-neutral restroom. How long had it been stuck in there? Apparently, it hadn’t learned to open doors. Why had some evolved and others hadn’t? Meh, the same thing irked him about the living human race.

  “It can’t break down the metal door,” Dean said. “But to be on the safe side, we’ll barricade it.” Dean and Luther blocked the door with several shelving units.

  Ella wasn’t buying it.

  “It can’t get us,” Justin promised, attempting to comfort her and watch the street at the same time. But he should have checked out the restroom earlier. The Z would be stuck there until Last State sanitized the rest of Texas. And Justin didn’t see that happening for a hundred-freaking years.

  Scarlett waved her hands, telling everyone to be quiet. “The horde’s following our scent,” she whispered through fluttering eyes.

  That’s exactly what he was stressing over. “Guys, we need bug spray. To disguise our scent.” Where the heck was he finding that?

  “Yup, we’re leaving them a trail.” Luther pulled his T-shirt over his nose in apparent disgust. “They’re getting closer.”

  Pissed at himself, Justin needed to start thinking like he had during the early days of the pandemic. Plus, all those X-box Live gamer achievements he had racked up roleplaying the zombie apocalypse hero had to count for something. Right?

  I got it! “There’s a Dollar Tree a block away.” Sure, the food would have been looted or confiscated by Last State. Not the bug spray.

  Ella put one hand on her hip and tapped her foot. “I won’t let you go!”

  “I have to. I’m the fastest. If I’m not back in ten minutes—Luther, take them back to Quinton’s. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  He kissed Ella and Mateo on the cheek and refused to give in to the fear oozing from Ella. It was like tiny tendrils of fear snaked around her torso, paralyzing her. So, that’s why she always freezes up. She needed to have more confidence in herself. She was courageous when she was determined.

  He dug through the backpack for the pillowcase he had snatched for scavenging runs. “Back in a flash.” He dropped his pack.

  Escaping out the backdoor, Justin dashed to the next block. The Dollar Tree’s busted sign reminded him how much he loathed store runs without a backup. Normally he would search each aisle. No time for that.

  He tried the door. Unlocked as usual. What aisle? Crash! Three Zs knocked over a display of Star Wars toys and stumbled over each other to get him. “Thanks for the warning, slime balls.” He went into action with a series of kick-boxing moves, separating them to keep from getting mauled.

  He slashed the first one in the throat with his uber-sharp melee knife. The other two found their feet and pounced him at once. He fell flat on his back. A numbing in his tailbone attempted to seize his back as two fart-breathers dove in for kill-bites. He had to do it. He whipped out his Glock. Bam! Bam! “Next time use Scope!”

  Justin rolled his back against the hard floor, smoothing out the kinked muscle. Had he just blown it for everyone? Enforcers couldn’t pinpoint two gunshots, right? They were probably too busy securing the Zones, he convinced himself.

  He ran down the endcap aisle, knowing Ella was probably stressing over the gunshots. The Summer Barbecue banner dangled from the ceiling and drifted in the wind from the opened door. “That’s it.” He found the bug spray next to a picnic display. He scooped an armful of cans into the pillowcase, sending cans clattering to the floor.

  He ran back to the street. WTF! The horde had caught up to him. He’d never forget those Walmart vests. And there were more of them. No problem. He could run faster than a horde. But Ella couldn’t. She had given birth two days ago.

  He ran straight for CiCi’s Deli, not bothering to hide as the plan formulated in 3D. He knew what he was doing. The trick had worked before.

  Dean stood at the deli’s entrance, scowling. “Son, you led them straight to us.”

  “No worries,” Justin panted. “The backdoor.” He handed the pillowcase to Scarlett. He fumbled through his backpack, looking for the bungee cords he had nabbed from the warehouse. They came in handy. “I’ll lure them inside. Find something to block the backdoor with. Then I’ll secure the front door with these.” He held up the wimpy bungees like they were Q’s latest high-tech gadget.

  By the time the horde reached the strip mall’s parking lot, Dean rushed everyone out the back. Then, for some bizarre reason, the horde stopped. The leader of the pack, the one with all the flair on its tattered vest, hunched its head from side to side. Was it deciding which way to go?

  “Slime balls, over here!” Justin goaded.

  They gawked in his direction. The leader abruptly stopped. The gang of Zs piled into one another like super ugly characters in a morbid graphic comic book. They lumbered in his direction, much slower and awkwardly than X-strains. Not so scary, he told himself. But that one Z, obviously the leader, had to be a Thinker.

  When the Thinker reached the deli’s sidewalk, Justin charged out the backdoor.

  Dean grappled a bloodstained rod. “Luther, help me retrofit the backdoor with this piece of rebar.”

  Justin glanced at Ella to make sure she was okay. Bad idea. Her fear leached into him. He shook it away and sprinted to the closest end of the strip mall. He peeked around the corner. No Zs insight. They better be inside the deli. He kneeled his way across the storefront’s walkway afraid he would run into a wayward Z.

  In stealth mode, he tried closing the deli’s front door. It jammed. Stuck open! From what he could see, the horde was fascinated with the backdoor, pummeling it. Except two Zs. They lunged him. Luther was suddenly by his side. Together, they shoved the Zs back inside with the door. Luther muscled the door shut.

  “Thanks!” Justin gasped. Frantically, he fastened the bungee cords. They ran to the back of the deli to find Scarlett and Dean staring at the barricaded door.

  “We trapped them inside,” Justin assured.

  Justin grabbed the pillowcase of bug spray from Scarlett. “Spray your pants and shoes. When we get to the safehouse, I’ll spray the perimeter.” It had worked awesomely back in Sacramento, where he and Ella had lived on the rooftop for several months.

  “Until they associate bug spray to humans,” Scarlett commented snidely under her breath.

  “Ella. Can you run?” Justin asked. Please, say yes!

  “I think so.”

  “And you?” Justin eyed Dean. They were out of time. It was like he witnessed time tick-tocking backward, faster and faster.

  “Not to worry,” Dean said. “A horde of hungry dead-heads on my heels is like a shot of adrenaline to the ole ticker.”

  “Can we go yet?” Twila shouted. “Their pain is killing my soul.”

  For an instant, Justin understood what Twila meant. The pain was there, dancing in her eyes. He shook the image away. “Okay, so let’s start off jogging. Ella, tell me when you need to stop. I’ll take Mateo.”

  “No. You need all your energy to fight them.” Ella was right. As usual.

  He held open the pillowcase. Everyone automatically dropped their bug spray into it. And Justin led the way. They made it to the intersection. Then the next one. As they passed street after street, the Bluebird Lane street sign shined brighter and brighter in his mind. This must be what Scarlett and Twila see with their super-vision powers. It was way weird. But, hey, it was a real thing. He should stop discrediting their metaphysical abilities.

  They snuck down the street, hiding behind cars, hedges, trees—stopping at the slightest sound. Trash swirled
around the wayward lawns. It was like time had stopped. Everything was exactly like it had been that first month of the pandemic. It brought back painful memories of roving the streets for survivors. For a while, he thought he had been the only one left in the entire city of Vacaville, California.

  Justin had been ready to call it “Game Over.” Then Dean had shown up like an urban cowboy in a Ram truck—out of freaking nowhere. Saving his ass. That very same day had been the first time he laid eyes on Ella. His life hadn’t been the same since. As if fate had intervened in the random pinball of life and awarded him an extra ball.

  They finally approached the housing subdivision he and Luther had checked out earlier. He didn’t want to change the plan by claiming residence in the first house they came to. Most of the homes were infested with rats or rotting bodies. Dead and undead.

  “Stop.” It came out as a breathless yelp. Ella hunched over and rested her hands on her knees. “I need a minute.”

  “Ye-ah, okay. Sure.” Justin pivoted around and searched the perimeter.

  “I know, I know, I need to start working out again,” Ella admitted.

  “I’ll take the baby,” Scarlett said firmly. She took the satchel before Ella said no.

  He was about to tell Ella how amazing she was handling this when a window shattered across the street. There it was! Crawling on all fours! It growled and gurgled and gawked at them. Two houses down, another Z burst through a window. Time for the copycats. Soon, the street would turn into a window-smashing flash mob.

  “Y’all get going,” Luther boomed. “Me and my big-ass wrench will take care of those mofos.”

  Justin turned to Ella and silently asked if she was ready. She nodded.

  “We’re almost there,” Justin encouraged.

  They took a right on Bluebird Lane. Justin stopped beside a Toyota truck and waited for everyone to catch up. “It’s the two-story green house on the right.”

  “Why that one?” Ella grimaced.

  “You’ll see,” he hinted. He couldn’t wait for her to see it. It had all kinds of baby stuff. But mostly, there were no signs of death. The residents must have fled before the city had turned. Or worse, the parents had worked at Walmart. And their babies . . . Don’t go there.

  Luther caught up to them with blood-spattered clothes. No one questioned his success.

  “Okay, everyone, super quiet,” Justin warned. “We can’t let a single Z see us.”

  They snuck to the backyard gate of the house next to the green house. He unhooked the gate’s latch, peeking in. No Zs. He ushered the gang into the backyard before darting to the patio furniture he and Luther had stacked next to the fence bordering the green house. Justin stood on the iron-rod patio table and studied the safehouse’s backyard for signs of Z activity. After the warehouse had been ransacked hours after they had found it, he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  “Bro, see anything?” Luther eyeballed the yard.

  “No. Smell anything?” Justin asked.

  “Nope. But, I’m checking it out anyway. Y’all stay put.” Luther jumped the fence.

  Justin peered over the fence and waited for Luther’s all-clear.

  Dean patted his back with apparent approval. “Son, I like your way of thinking. If any dead-heads followed our scent, they’ll be pounding on the wrong house.”

  “You’re so smart.” Ella beamed.

  Twila gave him a squinty-eyed look of approval too.

  Finally, Luther waved them on.

  The first thing he needed to do was spray down the perimeter. “Dean, help everyone inside. I’ll smother our tracks with bug spray. All the way to the gate.”

  ***

  Justin quietly entered the backdoor to their new safehouse.

  Ella nearly knocked him down with a hug. “Now I know why you chose this house. It has a nursery!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and lavished him with kisses. He cherished the fleeting moment of happiness before the next crisis screwed it up.

  He hadn’t realized how much he needed her heart-warming affection. He let it linger. “How’s Mateo?” Justin practically hummed in her ear.

  “He’s already asleep in the bassinet,” Ella hummed back. “Twila insisted on babysitting.”

  “This is perfect.” Scarlett smiled, but her voice was totally devoid of emotion. “What about Zac?”

  “I’ve been ponderin’ that myself.” Dean rubbed his stubbly chin. “Zac’s a smart fella. Once he finds the warehouse ransacked, he’ll assume we moved on. In the meantime, I suppose we can take shifts staking out the warehouse for his return.”

  Justin’s tender moment—vanished. He didn’t say anything about Zac. Watching the warehouse would be dangerous. Really, how long could they wait for Scarlett’s boyfriend? In the Forbidden Zone . . .

  Chapter 7

  Dean Wormer stood watch in the Bluebird Lane’s front room. An antsy feeling urged him to step up their security. Thing was, boarding over the windows and doors would lead the dead-heads straight to them.

  Meanwhile, the aroma of batter sizzling on cast-iron had his stomach churning in anticipation. Perhaps not so much for the flapjacks as for the intake of food in general since they had been rationing their meager food supply.

  The grim reality sucker-punched him in the gut; the food would run out tomorrow. Justin had adamantly proclaimed he could scavenge food from the nearby homes, but it had most likely been looted-out within the first few months of the flu outbreak.

  Of course, they hadn’t searched the entire Forbidden Zone. As a precaution, they kept their looting runs within an hour’s hike. Each time one of them went on a supply run, the horde activity increased substantially. No doubt, the dead-heads were well aware fresh meat presided in the vicinity. All the more reason to get out of Dodge.

  Why hadn’t Last State secured the entire state? Perhaps the perpetual threat of hordes kept citizens in line. The hard-hearted facts poured into the logical side of his brain: the people in Last State lived under the falsehood of safety. The way he saw it, the Elites had hedged their bets on the wrong team. For if the dead-heads in the Forbidden Zones teamed up with the ones in Zoat and the Lost States, Lord have mercy on them all.

  “Luther said you wanted to see me.” Scarlett interrupted his train of thought.

  “Good morning,” Dean said to a gaunt-faced Scarlett. One could only live on flapjacks for so long. “You mind dragging the dining room table in here? It’s time we all had a chat.” Between the rotating guard shifts, sleeping, scavenging, cooking, and basic day-to-day chores, they hadn’t had a group meeting since hunkering down in the two-story safehouse.

  “Is something wrong?” Scarlett asked with those fascinating aquamarine eyes of hers.

  Justin slid down the banister’s railing, saving Dean from answering her for the time being. “I’m starving! Ella will be down in a sec.”

  The poor gal needed all the sleep she could get. The baby had fussed all night. Dean hoped Mateo was just the cranky sort and not sickly.

  “Justin, help me move the table. We’re having a meeting,” Scarlett informed.

  “Close enough so I can watch the window while we chat,” Dean said as they carried the table to the carpeted living room while he kept an eye on the street through the partially closed blinds. “That’ll do just fine.”

  Scarlett had finished setting the table by the time Luther waltzed in with a platter heaping with flapjacks. Not quite the regular run-of-the mill pancake recipe. Still, Luther had managed to concoct a “stone soup” variety from the expired ingredients they had scrounged. He thanked his lucky stars no one had come down with E. coli as of yet.

  A pallid, bleary-eyed Ella joined them.

  “How’s the baby?” Scarlett asked.

  “Finally sleeping,” Ella said with a heavy sigh.

  “Best you get some sleep after we eat,” Dean prattled like an overly concerned grandparent. “We need you rested up for our trip.” Everyone around the table nodded in agreement
.

  “So, why the quality time?” Justin quipped.

  Dean didn’t bother beating around the bush. “We’re down to one day’s worth of food.” He was disappointed they hadn’t found more supplies at Quinton’s safehouse. Then again, it had been ransacked.

  “Dude, I told you. I’m checking out that new place today. You know the one,” Justin said with a knowing look.

  “Bro, I scouted out Sam’s Club yesterday.” Luther pinched his nose. “That place be crawling with stinking nimrods.”

  “Justin—” Ella scolded. “I don’t want you to go there!”

  Justin ignored her. “Guys, I’m pretty sure we left a box of MREs in the van. I can race there and back super-fast.”

  A groggy Twila plopped into a chair next to him. “They know your scent. They’re looking for you.” Twila frowned at the flapjacks. “Not again.”

  Scarlett flashed Twila a stern look of disapproval.

  “Well,” Dean proceeded, “Zac mentioned stocking up on dried goods at the weekend market. And according to my watch, tomorrow’s Saturday.” Dean never thought he’d be relying on a thirty-thousand-dollar, day-date Rolex to tell him what day it was—thanks to Luther’s Rolex habit. Living in the Forbidden Zone gave him the eerie sensation of being lost in a Twilight Zone time-warp episode. “We need to get to that market in Zhetto.”

  “Heads up,” Luther announced. “Yesterday afternoon I spotted several drones patrolling the border wall by Quinton’s.”

  Ella gasped. “Why did you go so close to the border?”

  “Justin and I’ve been taking shifts, watching for Zac,” Luther said between bites.

  The way Dean figured it, the smuggler’s tunnel behind Boom Town had been compromised and most likely destroyed. Zac was the only one with the know-how to get them out of Last State. Problem was, what if the fellow was a no-show?

  “We need a contingency plan.” Dean paused, choosing his words carefully. “Fact is, don’t think it’s safe to stake out Quinton’s. Not with drones and hordes. We need to come up with an alternate plan to meet up with Zac.”

  “We could leave a note to meet us here,” Justin tossed out.