Justin’s eyes lit up in comprehension. He put his arm around her and held her tightly against his heaving chest. “I get it. When I worked at the Think Tank, sometimes I got this icky feeling someone was listening or watching me.” He suddenly shivered. “So, why Mindy’s cart? Scarlett’s an awesome Z-fighter?”
“Mindy has kept her baby safe all this time . . .”
“Stop going all melancholy on me,” Justin scolded. “It freaks me out. And, here’s something you might want to know. I got this mystical vision that Mateo and Starla get married. Someday.”
A tear lingered in the corner of his lovely Asian eyes. Did he think they wouldn’t live to see the wedding?
“I saw—” He wiped the tear from his cheek. “Like, I think I saw our grandchild.”
“Oh, my God! That’s amazing.” She had a sudden flash of insight that Starla and Mateo were Twin Flames just as she and Justin were. Was it cosmic fate, part of their Soul Plan?
They held each other, lost in a timeless embrace. She tried shutting out the outside world as the truck rumbled through throngs of people milling around in hopelessness.
Justin bolted out of the embrace. “There has to be a way out of this.” He patted down his pockets. “They didn’t find all my weapons.” He reached into his sock with wiggling eyebrows, pulling out a dangerous-looking knife. He quickly tucked it back.
The truck drove behind a high school and stopped in a football field. When the engine turned off, her peacefulness gave way to anxiety. The driver got out of the truck, dragged a crowbar along the side of the cage, and then walked away laughing.
Justin whispered into her ear, “During the Z-fight, if you get a chance to run, wait for me at that pink building on Zoat Street. It’s, uh, you know, a house of ill repute, as Dean would say.”
“I’m absolutely not leaving without you.” Ella crossed her arms firmly.
“Just saying, that’s the rally point if we get separated.”
“Now, you really do sound like Dean.” Would Mad Dog let them go after the Z-fight? She doubted it. He’d probably turn them in for the huge rewards. Justin was on the most wanted list. Now that Last State knew she was fertile, they would probably send her off to one of those clandestine medical labs for lifelong testing. The Super Summer flu’s wrath had left the population infertile. Except for the few LifeGivers.
Three men strode toward the back of the truck.
“I got this!” Justin’s eyes sparkled with hope.
“Stand back!” A hard-looking man in leather chaps unlocked the cage’s door.
Justin squeezed her hand before rushing the gate.
“Not so fast, Punk Ass. Mad Dog wants both of you.”
Piercing anger shuddered through Justin’s body. “Are you insane?” Justin screeched with flaring nostrils. If looks could kill.
The man laughed in their faces. “Mad Dog certainly is.”
Ella went willingly before they hurt Justin. The HOME OF THE TIGERS scoreboard stared back at her from the end zone. For reassurance, she stole a glance behind her long enough to see the other two men escorting Justin behind her.
A Jeep barreled across the field, acting like it wanted to run over the men setting up the field. The driver “ye-hawed” and honked, careening around like a total idiot. Finally, the Jeep stopped. The driver jumped out and strode for her and Justin. Mad Dog! The toxic, blackish, evil energy radiating from his aura made her want to double over and puke. But she refused to give in to his wickedness. Instead, she held her head high, bracing for whatever was coming.
“Time for some fun, Punk Ass.” Mad Dog grabbed Ella’s hands and zip-tied them in front of her. She stared up helplessly, bewitched by his black marble eyes, the soulless eyes of a demonic being.
Another truck with a cage parked near the end zone. “Got a dozen hungry ones,” a man yelled from the truck.
Could Justin de-activate that many with only a knife?
“The betting starts—now,” Mad Dog announced into a bullhorn to the small crowd gathering on the bleachers.
Who’d do such a thing? Bet on people’s lives. She forced herself to stop thinking about it. Shari had explained that obsessing over negativity only created more negativity. A vicious cycle.
“Send the bitch in!” Mad Dog practically snarled, curling lips and all.
“You sick fucker!” Justin thrashed and kicked. “Send me! I’m the one you want!”
“Exactamundo!” Mad Dog yowled. “I wanna watch diaper boy shit his pants.”
Wait?
I have to kill the horde?
By myself?
Ella’s heart fluttered to her throat. Quickly, she tried unscrambling her brain to remember the Z-slaying techniques Justin had taught her that winter on the rooftop in Sacramento. One of the best times of her life.
“Betting stops in five minutes.” Mad Dog’s acidic glare ate away at her.
Five minutes. What does one think of during the last five minutes of their life? Love you, she mouthed to Justin as one of the men led her to the center of the football field. She wanted to cry out to Scarlett, to Dean, to Luther, to Mindy. Give Mateo a loving life.
“Guys, guys,” Justin blustered. “Let’s make a deal. I’ve got vital intel—”
Mad Dog and his gang ignored him.
“Guys. I’m serious. Last State’s shutting down Tent City. For good,” Justin implored. “Like, any freaking minute!”
“You don’t think I know that?” Mad Dog crowed. “You’re lookin’ at the official host of the Zhetto Games—coming soon to Zhetto Market.” Mad Dog flashed her a disgusting smile. He must have given up brushing his teeth for Lent. “They appreciate my killing personality.”
“There’s this stash of gold—elite Gold. Tons of it!” Justin went on and on.
She blotted out his pleas for her own peace of mind. As she stood in the middle of the football field, lost in time, her senses amplified: the dampness of the soft ground from a recent rain, the sweet aroma of wild roses trailing across the fence in the background, dragonflies dancing across the field, and the familiar calls of robins—all totally unaware of Ella’s apocalypse.
Memories of Mama and Papa rushed through her mind like the vintage slide show they used to watch every Christmas Eve. Her baby brother, Miguel, flashed her inner vision. How she had loved him. Then, baby Miguel, her first son. His face morphed into Mateo’s. Were they really the same soul?
Then there was Justin. She’d never forget the first time she had laid eyes on him at the Sweet Suites hotel in Vacaville. He had been the one to give her the hope and strength to crawl out of her shell. To live again. Love again.
“Time’s up,” Mad Dog shouted.
More spectators had arrived. She frantically searched for Justin. There he was, on the sidelines. A man brandishing a medieval mace strutted directly for her. He dropped the mace at her feet. Then, he held up a black bandanna for all to see. The crowd applauded. He placed it over her face and tied it to the back of her head.
“Blindfolded? Really? How is that fair!” Justin bellowed.
“Girly-girl, I bet my wad on you.” The man pulled the bandanna down over the top half of her eyes. Just enough . . .
Mad Dog jumped around on top of the zombie-filled cage. “Ready for zome Zoatball!”
Ella took a long, deep breath and then exhaled heavily. “I won’t freeze up. I won’t freeze up. I won’t freeze up,” she chanted softly.
She had a decent view over the top of the bandanna, thanks to the man. But couldn’t see much below. Mad Dog opened the gate from the top of the cage. Zs tumbled out onto the field. He flamboyantly tossed raw meat in her direction.
She groped the ground for the mace with zip-tied hands. There you are. Clutching the handle with both hands, she pretended like it was a bat, and practiced swinging. She tried removing the bandanna with her wrists, but the weapon was too heavy.
“Your one and only warning. Remove the blindfold—Punk Ass gets a bullet in the head!” Ma
d Dog snickered.
She slurred a series of curse words. The forbidden ones Papa used to say. Now she understood the power surge the words beheld. And she would harness their power.
The horde dove for the raw meat. After gorging, the Zs just sorta ambled around. She stood still as a mouse, waiting for them to see her, waiting for her burst of courage. The crowd roared and pointed in her direction. Confused, the horde lurched for the bleachers.
Mad Dog shouted obscenities at them. A chunk of meat landed near her feet. Her moment of invisibility—gone. The horde stumbled her way. Her heart trembled as much as her arms from holding the heavy mace.
Obviously, she couldn’t de-activate them all at once. It reminded her of the divide and conquer hack Justin had taught her.
Justin yelled, “Ella, run!” Poor guy, he was going to have a heart attack.
She ran to the opposite end of the field. She’d take care of the faster ones first. Thank God they weren’t X-strains. The two fastest Zs were neck and neck, tripping over each other to get to her. She planted her feet and practiced swinging the creepy mace with nails spiking out the top. Who’d think up such a gruesome weapon?
They were close enough to smell, close enough for her to see the bones protruding from their patchwork of decomposing skin. She tilted her head for a better view. One stopped to gurgle and goggle her. She had a chance. She wasn’t nimble like Justin, or powerful like Luther and Dean, or awesome like Scarlett. She was a LifeGiver, born to give lives, not take lives.
Ella whispered a string of Hail Marys and begged for the physical strength she needed. She met the fastest one head-on. Aiming for its knees. It bellowed and belly-flopped onto the field.
Seconds later, she caught the second one in the neck with her hardest swing. It stared at her with forgiving eyes. That flash of humanity lingered when its dilated pupils constricted back to normal size. She forgot they were human. Had been, she reminded. She clobbered it in the head, wincing as the splattering of blood sprinkled her. She rushed back to the first Z and finished it off.
The crowd roared louder.
She cocked her head to find the rest of the horde eagerly plodding toward her. Two down. Only ten to go. She cut diagonally across the field, opposite side of Justin. She would just de-activate two at a time, running across the field and taking care of the fastest ones. Simple.
She caught her breath while three of them stumbled for her at the same pace. Really? Three? They pounced for her. The crowd went berserk. She swung low, aiming for the knees. It disabled them enough to take care of them one by one. Some cheered. Others booed. She blocked them out, singling out Justin’s voice—cheering her on.
Five down. As the rest of the horde approached, she forced her rubbery legs across the field again. She had never been the athletic type.
“O-M-G!” A catch in her side made her come to a grinding halt. Usually, she held her side when it acted up. But she couldn’t hold her side and the heavy weapon with zip-tied hands.
As the remaining five lumbered toward her, she frantically scanned the field through the blindfold’s sliver. Is that a ham shank in the grass? She rushed to it. They had missed one in their lust for live flesh. She dropped the mace before flinging the meat at the five Zs. Two of them went in a tug-of-war battle over it. The crowd’s oohs and aahs gave her courage.
Screeching rose above the crowd. Low-flying jets streaked across the sky. Helicopters joined in. Explosions ripped at her ears. The frenzied crowd rushed for the exit. But the Zs were oblivious. They wanted her!
Supercharged, she met the fastest Z with a swing that ripped off half its face. She went back to crippling them in the knees. They crawled after her as she took care of them one by one. In her fervor, she ignored the person running toward her. Because, she could not stop. She bashed their heads. Over and over. And over.
Chapter 31
Luther Jones busted butt toward the two men who had exited through the tunnel’s free side of Zoat minutes ago. Maybe they knew where Ella and Justin were. Knowing women, Ella had needed the restroom at the last minute. That’s what he told himself.
Luther offered a friendly, “Whut up?”
The two men dropped their overloaded wheelbarrow and drew their weapons.
Luther’s arms shot up in defense. “Whoa, just looking for my friends. They were next in line.”
The men eyed each other as if debating what to say.
Their hesitation prickled at his core. Luther pressed on, “Did something happen?”
“All I know,” the younger man finally said, “is we arrived with our tokens ten minutes late. An Asian guy and, I think the other person was a woman, were hauled off.” The man glanced back at Zoat.
“In a cage,” the older man added.
“Enforcers?” Luther worried. Had they ID’d Justin with that facial recognition sci-fi shit he ranted about?
The men reached for their wheelbarrow handles. “No, that gangsta, Mad Dog, the one running the tunnel sham, apparently had a score to settle,” the older man said.
“And Mad Dog was hella pissed,” the younger man intoned.
Luther’s lunch suddenly went rancid. “Where to?” he yelled to their backsides when the men took off, each manning a handle to the wheelbarrow.
Two military Humvees and a camouflage truck patrolling the free side of Zoat drove into view. Luther hit the dirt and waited for a break in the action. Several men in fatigues jumped out the back of the truck and unloaded a crate. They appeared to be installing something along Zoat’s outer perimeter. Prepping for the shutdown, he presumed.
An explosion rocked the ground. Several meters down, a cloud of dirt billowed out, swallowing Zoat. The Enforcers took off northbound and fired at a group of people who must have used a different tunnel. Luther wiped his hand down over his face and spat out the dust he had inhaled. “Don’t tell me those mofos are installing landmines?”
The wheelbarrow guys were long gone. He took the opportunity to gain yardage and bolted for the tunnel. In his playbook of life, he still owed the kooky kid. Justin and his crazy-ass phone call had invited him to Vacaville during the beginning of the pandemic. Luther wouldn’t have lasted long on his own. A man had to sleep sometime. Over time, he had come to think of his newfound friends as family.
He made it to the mouth of the tunnel, surprising the tunnel guard taking a piss in a bucket. The gangly man pointed an automatic weapon at him, letting his junk hang out.
Luther raised his hands. “Bro, you wouldn’t shoot a brother? Go on, finish yo bidness.” Luther gave his best stank face before shielding his eyes in feigned embarrassment.
“Hands where I can see them!” The homie tunnel guard fumbled about, trying to zip his pants with one hand. “Get outta here. Before I have to shoot yo sorry black ass!”
“Not without my friends. They were supposed to be next.” Luther went into an exaggerated neckroll. “I demand to speak to the manager,” he ranted, disgusted at himself for playing the “Karen” card. Would it work?
The tunnel guard rubbed his ear as if something was wrong with his hearing. “Huh?”
“I demand a refund!” Luther brazenly shouted with the barrel inches from his face. He figured he had to come off like a nutcase in order to get back into Tent City. “Don’t make me give you a one-star rating.”
“Now I’ve heard it all.” The guard flashed him an exasperated look. “Neo, you there?”
“What you want?” the radio answered.
“Got a—customer service issue. This homey came back through the tunnel. Says his friends were next. You know anything about that?”
Laughter took over. “If he’s referring to the geeky Asian and his bae. Um, yeah, tell him they’re a lost cause. Mad Dog’s settling a personal vendetta. Apparently, the geek used to be one of the gang.”
“Then I want an f’n refund!” Luther seethed through clenched teeth. Damn, he was crushing the entitled Karen act.
“Um, says he wants a—refund?” the g
uard’s voice went soprano.
The man on the other end of the radio blared back, “This ain’t the frickin’ Piggly Wiggly.”
Luther’s glare hardened.
Curiosity must have intervened. “Where’s Mad Dog anyhow?” the tunnel guard inquired.
“At the high school. Zombie games. The geek and his bae ain’t got a chance in Hell.”
On that note, Luther plowed past the guard. “Bro, tell them not to shoot me at the other end.”
“Neo, just sent the unhappy customer through,” the tunnel guard said, covering his ass.
Luther overhead Neo say, “Good call. Mad Dog can handle his own shit.”
Not wanting to run out the clock, Luther hauled ass through the tunnel’s shrinking walls and kept his eyes front and center. I’m good. If I don’t look at the walls.
When he reached the Tent City side of the tunnel, the guard, dressed like a Metallica groupie, hollered, “Halt!”
“Neo sent me through,” Luther bullied, towering over the man.
“We heard all about it,” the tunnel guard snarked. “Go on.”
“What’s the fastest way to the high school?”
“Make a right at the end of Zhetto Street. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, bro.” Luther darted down an alley to bypass the mob of people running everywhere. The thundering of jets raged at his jagged nerves when they buzzed over.
A cacophony of explosions took over. “Good God Almighty!” Last State’s bombing its own people? It reminded him of that tragic day he had gone to Levi’s Stadium to meet up with his mama and little sister, LaTasha. During the pandemic’s early days, the U.S. military had lured the Infecteds to FEMA stations with the promise of a cure. Instead, those in charge had incinerated them in a desperate attempt to contain the virus.
He didn’t have time to think about that. He had to get to Ella and Justin. Sweet Jesus, please don’t let them do despicable things to Ella. She was too innocent. She don’t deserve to be treated like that. No woman deserved to be treated like that.
Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home Page 29
