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

by Popovich, A. D.

  Luther rubbed his belly. “That will get me back in a hurry.”

  “While you’re at it, clear a path to the rear exit,” Dean added, always thinking.

  Dean grabbed the Leatherman from his hunting vest. “This is a dandy of a tool.” He used the scissor tool to cut the list by departments. “Justin, take care of the camping and fishing supplies. Luther, not sure of your size. Why don’t you pick out the men’s clothing? I’m a medium, myself. Justin takes a small. Scarlett, handle the hygiene products, baby supplies, and clothing for you gals. Meanwhile, I’ll commandeer the pharmaceuticals and first-aid supplies. Then, I’ll swing by the tool department for melee weapons and whatnot.”

  “I need a bat,” Ella blurted. “I left mine at the safehouse.”

  “On it,” Justin said.

  Dean stood up and patted down his pockets. “Time to skedaddle.”

  Scarlett hugged Twila briefly. “Send me a message if something bad happens.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  They snuck to the store’s loading zone. Luther pointed to the left side of the building where six creepers snored away. They crept to the propped-open door, which meant creepers could be inside. Assume it, she told herself, gripping her bat tighter.

  As they entered the store through the employees’ entrance, Dean said, “Logic says to secure the store first. Don’t have time for that. We’ve got ten minutes tops. Which reminds me, whoever comes across any batteries, get what you can.”

  The men chose flatbed dollies from the warehouse. She preferred a shopping cart to keep everything from spilling all over the place. They took off with their lists. After snatching a lone cart from the main end aisle, she scanned the aisles for soap and shampoo with the cart rattling the entire way. Why do I always get the bad carts?

  She ran down the hair product aisle only to find barren shelves. She noticed a package of men’s razors on the floor partially under the shelf. Just what Dean needed.

  “What is that?” Erratic banging had her on edge. She left her cart and crept to the next aisle to check it out.

  “Ugh!” A creeper lay spread eagle and repeatedly thrashed its head against the floor. Trying to commit suicide or having a bad dream? She decided not to bash in its head.

  She loathed killing creepers, especially now that she understood she was a part of the cosmic mission: healing the sick ones. Had she been committing murder all this time? She couldn’t worry about that now. Karma would catch up to her sooner or later as Shari used to say.

  Scarlett ran back for her cart and happened to spot the travel-sized section. Perfect. Not bothering to read the brands, she stuffed mini packages of shampoos, toothpaste, mouthwash, hand sanitizers, soaps, lotions, shaving cream, and more razors into the pillowcase she had brought along.

  Based on her cross-country travels, smaller items were easier to squeeze into a backpack’s side pockets. In reality, they wouldn’t take anything they found today. Once on foot, they’d end up downsizing. The constant exhaustion from hiking had a way of minimizing one’s necessities. Besides food, water, and dry clothes, toothpaste and toothbrush were a must for her. A brush or shampoo, even toilet paper she had often forgone, for leaves sufficed for the latter.

  She hoped Dean was having luck with the pharmaceuticals. He probably could use a prescription for his blood pressure. Although, since his stent operation, he seemed fine. That made her realize none of her friends needed medications, except Mateo and his tea.

  Worried she had blown half her time, Scarlett ran through the store like a crazed shopping contestant. Next stop, women’s clothing. She grabbed several pairs of jeans in various sizes, a stack of folded T-shirts, and sweatpants for pajamas. And off she raced to the kids’ clothes. With no time to sort through sizes, she snatched an armful of pants, shirts, and short sets for Twila. Twila could try them on later and keep what she wanted. It would give her something to do.

  Attempting to be more vigilant with her time, she counted, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi . . .” allowing no more than thirty-seconds in the underwear section. She passed an endcap of girls’ sneakers. She didn’t know what size to get Twila: she had grown so much. She tossed several pairs into the cart.

  The cart was full, and she hadn’t made it to the baby section. She ran the cart to the back. The guys weren’t there yet. She raced to the baby department where she found a cart loaded with big-box toys, which she dumped.

  She grabbed one bundle of Pampers per Justin’s request. But when those ran out, they would be sorry. Reusable cloth diapers, despite the mess, were the practical option in the long run. She grabbed two packages. She also included an armful of diaper pins, bibs, and outfits. One could never have enough pacifiers, she thought, tossing a handful into the cart. Those are definitely a must-have.

  A shrilly cat-call whistled through the building. Time to go. She ran toward the warehouse when the Back-to-School display called out to her. If there was one thing she knew after months of traveling, Twila needed a distraction. Scarlett filled a Disney Princess pack with colored pencils, crayons, chalk, drawing paper, and several coloring books. There. Everyone will definitely appreciate this. She stifled a laugh. A bored Twila could get awfully cranky, making everyone just as miserable.

  She parked her cart next to the flatbed dollies. “I forgot the paper plates!” Scarlett bemoaned as if it were the most important item on their lists.

  “Got you covered on that one.” Luther pointed to the plastic tub overflowing with items on his dolly.

  “Score! I snatched two cases of Pampers from the back stock!” Justin elated.

  Dean eyed Justin’s flatbed dolly warily. “Two each,” he grunted. “Looks like we were on the same page. This’ll take two trips. Everyone, stay sharp.” He peeked out the loading dock’s door before giving the all-clear signal.

  With her bat in the cart’s front rack, she followed them outside, gritting her teeth at the cart’s clattering. She eyed the horde expectantly. Please, don’t wake up yet.

  Dean’s hand flew up in warning. He pointed to a horde camping out by the Garden Department. She hadn’t noticed them earlier. Ella waved frantically to them from the driver’s seat of the bus. Jeez, how were they getting everything onto the bus? There were too many creepers. Firearms were out of the question except in a life-or-death situation.

  They stopped behind a dumpster. “Justin, Luther, use the front door to load. Follow me to the rear,” Dean whispered in her ear.

  They clattered to the bus. Dean unlocked the rear door. “Hop in. I’ll hand you the supplies.”

  Twila skipped toward her. “I wanna help.”

  Scarlett pressed her finger to her lips. “Take these to the table.” She handed her the lighter items while tossing the rest on the gas cans in the shower stall.

  They met Justin and Luther by the front of the bus. She dreaded the second round. They turned the corner of the building to find the horde wide awake. But the horde faced the open field in the opposite direction. In stealth mode, they inched their way to the warehouse. An emaciated creeper burst up from behind a forklift like a rotted Halloween pop-up decoration. On instinct, she shoved it back with the bat. Luther took care of it.

  “Thanks,” was all she said, watching the horde lift their heads to the sky. A flurry of sniffings took over. They smell us!

  “Time to cut our losses before they bushwhack us?” Dean whispered.

  “No way—the diapers.” Justin forged on, determined.

  They crept to their remaining carts. Slowly, quietly, pushing them over the smooth cement of the loading dock. But once the wheels hit the asphalt, the horde twisted in their direction with the crazed realization of breakfast stuck on their decomposing faces. In morbid fervor, the creepers stumbled, fell, and crawled for them.

  Scarlett and friends took off running with their supplies. However, they quickly lost their head start when loading the bus. They went into a swinging rage of bats, wrenches, tire irons, and nail-pull
ers. When none were left standing, they went back to loading.

  “Good God Almighty,” Luther roared, “here comes another mofo horde.”

  “Folks, times up!” Dean yelled.

  “I’m not leaving these.” Justin fumbled with a huge box of Pampers.

  Dean and Scarlett squeezed onto the bus, stepping over piles of their looted supplies while Justin tried to shove his coveted box through the bus door. It was obviously too wide for the door.

  “Justin!” Ella screamed.

  “Son, you’re going to jam the door. Leave it!” Dean ordered.

  “I still got thirty seconds.” Justin slashed opened the box. With a crazed Jack Nicholson expression, he tossed the smaller packages up to the bus rack.

  “Behind you!” Scarlett warned.

  Luther roared out the window, “Bro, you done gone and lost your mind?”

  Dean sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for the air brakes to charge. “Justin!”

  Justin jumped into the doorway. Dean slammed the jack-knife door shut inches before the horde pressed their slimy faces against the glass. The pounding began. The air brake’s alarm went off.

  “Technically, it should idle for a few minutes—” Dean started.

  “Screw that!” Justin bellowed.

  Scarlett landed on the booty pile when Dean hit the accelerator.

  Meanwhile, Luther’s robust laughter took over. “I’ve seen some crazy shit. But, risking your life for—poopy pants. Bro, you’ve got issues.”

  “Moi?” Justin shrugged it off.

  Ella and Scarlett took one look at each other and went into hysterical laughter. Happy endings were hard to find these days.

  Chapter 22

  Estella Marie Vasquez-Chen perused the pamphlet included in the Prepper Jack’s Tex-Mex bucket while a tray of enchiladas rojas de pollo simmered in the cute compact oven. The emergency food kit included everything she had needed: dehydrated chicken strips, pinto beans, red sauce, Spanish rice, cheese sauce, salsa, even a premixed package to make tortillas.

  The enchiladas’ aroma brought back memories of helping Mama in the kitchen of the family restaurant, Los Lunas. Mama, Papa, we’re going to make it. I just know it. Mijo’s well again. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped her. Were they watching over her like angels? Sometimes she pretended they did. She knew it was childish. But indulging in happy daydreams helped her through these dark times.

  She rummaged through the kitchenette’s cupboards, finding moldy spices, sugar, popcorn—canola oil! She sniffed the half-full bottle. A little stale, but it would do. She’d fry the remaining tortillas into chips. She might as well make everything. It wasn’t like they could carry all the dehydrated food buckets with them across the border.

  Besides, she needed a distraction. Driving through the towns brought haunting memories of the pandemic’s early days. All those abandoned cars in the streets. Had these people been trying to get to loved ones or the FEMA Camps the government had bombed? What had been their last thoughts as human beings? What plagued her even more—did they remember their human lives? What if they were stuck in a perpetual nightmare waiting to wake up? She shook away her disparaging thoughts.

  “They remember. Everything!” Twila sat up on the lower bunk.

  “What?” It startled her when Twila tuned into her thoughts.

  “They are so sad. Last State just left them here,” Twila huffed. “No one wants to help them. They should call this the Forgotten Zone.”

  Twila pranced down the bus’s narrow center walkway, modeling another one of her new outfits. “Ella, I want to ask you something very, very important.” Twila quickly looked down at her new sneakers and tried standing on her tiptoes. “Are you still mad at me—for you know?”

  Taking Mateo’s tea could have been fatal. Part of her was still angry. But, Twila was only eight. And Mateo had recovered, thanks to Luther. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again!” The words came out sterner than she intended. “Without permission,” Ella added sweetly. It wasn’t her place to scold Twila.

  “I promise. I think that’s why Luther gets to be the Andara’s guardian. He doesn’t make bad decisions ’cause he loves us all the same amount. No matter what we do.” Twila kept her head down, still admiring her new shoes. “Uh, do you still love me?”

  “Can’t you tell?” Ella’s tone turned testy.

  Twila stared blankly at her. “Your heart chakra spins with pretty pinks and greens. But you can’t hide your anger. I see the murky grays swirling around.”

  It was time to let go of her anger. Ella exhaled deeply, releasing her resentment, something she had learned from Shari’s teachings. Finally, a peaceful wave of energy replaced her anger.

  “Silly, of course, I love you. Sometimes it takes adults a while to let go of our anger.” Who was she kidding? She was barely an adult herself. Papa had thrived on anger, constantly pissed at politics, his boss, the economy, always something. Her mother had been the exact opposite. She should strive to be like her.

  Ella had another pet peeve. Twila constantly eavesdropped on her thoughts no matter how many times Scarlett reprimanded her. Probably means I need to work harder on my mental shielding. Besides, she had to learn the Merkaba technique so she could teach Mateo when he was old enough.

  “I can’t help it.” Twila shrugged. “But Mateo already knows how to use the lightbody shield.” See, the Starseeds have the Merkaba trick woven into their DNA. So, they just do it. Like breathing. The Lightworkers aren’t so good at it.”

  Ella offered a quick smile. Frustrated that she wasn’t gifted enough to create an effective shield, Ella imagined an impenetrable protective bubble of light spinning around her lightbody, concentrating so hard her brain hurt.

  “No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Twila chided. “Remember what Shari said? The Prana already flows into the top of your head. So, use the lifeforce energy, not your brain’s.” Twila gave her a goofy grimace.

  Ella sighed. “You’re right.” Sometimes she thought she had to use brainpower. She visualized the sparkly prana lights flowing into the top of her head and then flowing through her chakras.

  “Like that.” Twila nodded. “Now, visualize a 3D triangle with the point to the sky and another triangle pointed to the ground.”

  Twila made it sound so easy. Ella kept trying to envision the tetrahedron, the Star of David. It was too difficult to picture in her mind. But visualizing two separate triangles made it way easier.

  “Okay, now, make the top triangle—the guy energy—spin from left to right. And make the bottom one—the girl energy—spin right to left.”

  Ella focused on spinning the tetrahedrons in opposite directions.

  “Ooh, very good. Keep spinning them. Slowly bring the two triangles together until they make a star. And, see yourself as a light being riding inside the star. That’s the funnest part—riding in the star.”

  A wave of peacefulness engulfed every cell of Ella’s body. “Thank you, Twila. Your way is easier. You should teach the guys.”

  Twila frowned. “Uh-uh, they don’t truly believe in it. It’s too—mystical. For them.”

  “Hang on,” Justin yelled.

  The bus veered sharply to the left, skidding to the shoulder.

  She tumbled onto the kitchen table’s diner-like booth seat with Twila falling into her lap.

  “That was fun!” Twila giggled. As usual, oblivious to the possible danger.

  Ella scrambled to check on Mateo. He was snug in the box bungeed to the bunk’s headboard. The enchiladas?

  Good, they hadn’t sloshed out of the pan, but the oven would need a thorough cleaning.

  “Will you sit in my bunk and watch Mateo?” Ella asked, worried the ride might get bumpy.

  “Ooh, can I teach him to meditate?” Twila asked seriously.

  “Sure, if he’s not sleeping. But don’t wake him up.” It was Mateo’s nap time.

  The tortilla chips would just have to wait, she decided. Dean stumbled out from
his bunk, looking extra crabby. He’d only had about two hours sleep in the last twenty-four hours. He barely acknowledged her as he mumbled to the front of the bus.

  Ella happened to glance out the window to see a horde. She yanked down the shade. She couldn’t handle seeing one more horde gawk after the bus. The farther they drove into the Forbidden Zone, the more Zs they encountered.

  To squelch her angst, she decided to organize the Walmart haul they had dumped onto the small futon. She held the adorable sailor outfit to the light. I can’t wait ’til baby Mateo can wear this. The tag read 0-3 months old. Mateo would grow into it. He was close to preemie size. Then again, Ella was petite, and Justin was small-framed, so she wasn’t really worried now that Luther had the Andara crystal.

  Ella glanced at Mindy’s bunk, eager to show her the clothes their babies would share, but Mindy’s curtain was drawn. She must be exhausted. Excitement crept in, thinking about what Mindy had told her earlier—that Mateo was a Starseed baby just like Starla. It had to be more than a coincidence for both their newborns to survive the curse that had killed most if not all newborns. The Angels must be working overtime.

  Time to divvy out the supplies. She lined up the new heavy-duty camping backpacks and tagged their initials with a thick black marker. Even Twila was to always have her pack within reach in the event they had to leave the bus in a hurry.

  Ella sorted through the men’s clothing of underwear, socks, T-shirts, and jeans. She packed the smalls in Justin’s pack, gave the mediums to Dean, and the 3Xs to Luther. Next, she sorted through the hygiene products, filling the backpacks’ side pockets with a little of each where appropriate.

  She was about to ask Dean when they were stopping again, but it sounded like Scarlett, Justin, and Dean were having a heated conversation. Better not. Dean had been in a foul mood since the last detour.

  Ella checked the enchiladas and turned off the oven. Then she peeked in Twila’s bunk to see how the meditation training was going. A slow smile curled to her lips; Twila and Mateo were fast asleep.