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

by Popovich, A. D.

  Luther made it to Zhetto Street and joined the thinning crowd. He made a run for the high school just as a panicked mob reached the school’s parking lot. He weaved in and out the gaps, jumped over discarded items, and pushed and shoved and squeezed his way through. Determined. The Home of the Tiger’s scoreboard caught his attention.

  He scrambled for the ballfield. Another explosion sent him kissing the ground. A barrage of shouting took over. He managed to make out through the chaos, “They blew up Zoat! We can cross!”

  Luther made it to his feet to see an army of tanks roll in from the east. Some crazy-ass shit was going down. And he was in the thick of it. He fought his way to the ticket stand where a huge mob of crazed citizens invaded the end zone . . . heading straight for him. His running-back instinct took over. He rushed the crowd, finding a hole through the defense, determined to make it past the line of scrimmage.

  All the while, his anger broiled to nuclear meltdown magnitude. It was time for some serious ass-whooping. He had often fantasized about the day he came face-to-face with Mad Dog. Judgment day! And he was itching to spend that bullet with Mad Dog’s name mentally engraved on it. For herding the X-strain horde through Last Chance.

  Luther brandished his fists in the air. He hadn’t been there for Sheena. Had it been genuine love? Or infatuation? Hell, it didn’t matter. Mad Dog had destroyed his last chance for love.

  He made it through the mob. Three people near the forty-yard line were the only ones not running. That’s got to be them! The shaved-headed man in Viking attire had to be Mad Dog. Vengeance trembled to Luther’s lips.

  He snuck up behind the bastard while Justin and Mad Dog engaged in an animated shouting match. Justin lunged for Mad Dog with a ten-inch blade. Mad Dog blocked it with a bizarre ax-like weapon. The block must have hit a nerve. Justin’s blade flew to the ground. Mad Dog cocked his head back and laughed. Without warning, Mad Dog yanked Ella to him and pressed the barrel of a .45 to her head.

  Luther cocked his Glock just as Justin parkoured off a Jeep a few feet away. Justin did an impossible side-flip and flew at Mad Dog, hurtling on top of him. Ella ducked as Justin’s bound hands caught Mad Dog’s neck in a stranglehold. Mad Dog’s gun went off. The two collapsed to the ground, kicking and punching. Ella jumped on top of them, screaming.

  The way they were going at it, no one appeared to be shot. But with the wild brawl, Luther didn’t have a clean shot. He plucked Ella off them. Justin was a shrimp compared to Mad Dog, but Justin’s rage overcompensated for the difference. He’s venomous when torqued off.

  “Avon calling!” Luther sing-songed.

  Recognition swept across Justin’s face. Luther reached for his pearl-handled blade. He slashed Justin’s zip-tied hands, nicking Mad Dog’s throat. He tossed Justin aside by the scruff of his shirt. “This mofo’s all mine.”

  Luther drilled into Mad Dog’s beady eyes. “I’ma terminating yo stinky ass!” A surge of energy flooded Luther’s head, somehow giving him the power to see beyond Mad Dog’s physical body. A nest of ethereal-like snakes hissed in the man’s aura like a Medusa on meth. He shook away the impossible image.

  “For Sheena!” Without hesitation, Luther sliced Mad Dog’s neck, hoping the blood splatter missed Justin and Ella.

  He jumped back when Mad Dog sprang back to life. For a split-second, the thought occurred to let the monster live out his undead days as one of those stinking nimrods. Then again, Mad Dog would destroy more lives.

  Luther fired a round into his tattooed skull. And it sure as hell wasn’t out of compassion. The sweet-and-sour taste of revenge regurgitated to his throat. He was probably damned to hell for that one. He had relished it. Far too much.

  “Dude?” Justin swayed in an apparent state of confusion. “Where the heck did you come from?”

  “Is she shot?” Luther whispered, afraid of the answer.

  “Ella!” Justin rushed to the lumped body on the field. He turned her over and searched for injuries. “No blood.”

  More bombs went off. Helicopters roared overhead.

  Luther kept his head on the swivel, ready for anything. “This must be the crackdown you were talking about.”

  Justin was too busy mumbling and rocking Ella in his arms. A spray of automatic gunfire signaled it was time to get out of there. “Time to jet.” Luther hurled Ella over his shoulder.

  “Luther,” she croaked.

  “I got you,” Luther said firmly.

  Justin pivoted from side to side. “The tunnel’s that way.”

  “Not anymore,” Luther blared.

  Justin’s face went blank. “What do you mean?”

  “They blew the shit out of Zoat.”

  “No way. Last State wouldn’t do that,” Justin argued. “They need the cits.”

  “I’m thinking the Zhetts blew it. To get outta Last State.”

  That aha look flickered in Justin’s eyes.

  “Stay close. Not losing you again.” Luther heaved on with Ella over his shoulder and jogged toward Zoat along with the rest of Tent City.

  Without warning, the crowd in front of them did an about-face and ran in their direction. That can’t be good.

  “Holy shit!” Justin bellowed. “The Zs from Zoat—they’re invading Tent City!”

  A humongous horde headed straight for them, turning the ones within lunging-distance. Luther thought quickly. “Head back to those bleachers. We’ll hang there ’til the horde moves on.” He was out of good ideas.

  When they finally made it back to the ballfield, Luther stopped long enough to catch his breath and contemplate their next play. The horde swarmed the field, doubling if not tripling in size as it added Zhetts to Club Dead.

  “Get to the top,” Luther bellowed as he stomped up the bleachers.

  “You can let me down now,” Ella gasped.

  The three of them stood on the bleacher’s top row. The ground level completely surrounded by Zs.

  Ella cried out, “Archangel Michael, watch over mijo!”

  “Good God Almighty!” Luther had forgotten about the baby. “Is he—” He turned to Justin, unable to say, “dead” in front of Ella.

  “He’s with Mindy,” Justin whispered.

  “Whut?” Luther didn’t have time for questions. A Z in an elegant golden robe scrambled to the front of the groaning horde. The horde didn’t attempt climbing the bleachers; instead, they turned to the robed Z. Was that reverence stamped on their grotesque faces?

  Luther aimed his Glock at it. It must have been a woman once upon a time. Its ratted hair was pulled back from its bulging forehead, crowned with a golden jewel-encrusted tiara.

  She–it—painstakingly walked to the base of the bleachers, staring at him with cognizant eyes.

  “Dude, shoot it!” Justin shouted.

  The Glock wavered in Luther’s hand. Sure, he could shoot it. But there were hundreds of them. He didn’t have enough grenades or ammo to get them out of this one.

  The horde went into a sickly-sweet chorus of moans. The leader held up its hand. The horde immediately hushed. Using his newfound ability, Luther peered beyond the Z’s physical body. The wave of energy emanating from its body actually appeared benevolent. Nothing like Mad Dog’s evil energy.

  Ella gasped. “Her aura—she’s almost human!”

  Luther didn’t know what the hell to think. It lifted a pendant from its neck. “Ths blngs ttt Scrltt,” she attempted to enunciate as she ripped it off.

  “Uh, did it just say, what I thought it said?” Justin quipped in bewilderment.

  “O-M-G! That’s the lapis lazuli pendant Shari gave Scarlett.” Ella stared back with utter amazement, tears pooling down her cheeks. She dashed down the bleachers.

  Luther was too shocked by the turn of events to stop her.

  With surprising agility, the Z placed the pendant in Ella’s hand. Luther and Justin rushed down to Ella’s aid. “Ella—got my finger on the trigger,” Luther cautioned. He certainly didn’t want to provoke the horde into at
tack mode.

  “Tll Scrltt thnk yyy. My cln wll ggg wst. Wll wt fr th hlrs ttt fnd sss.”

  Luther and Justin turned to each other in a what-the-fuck moment. His physical hearing heard garbled nonsense, but his inner hearing translated, “Tell Scarlett thank you. My clan will go west. We’ll wait for the healers to find us?”

  Justin rubbed his ears erratically.

  “I’ll tell her.” Ella’s voice cracked. Apparently, she understood it.

  The horde looked on with lustful, hungry eyes, but they heeded the Z’s order.

  “G-g-g wth G-g-gd,” it labored to say, with the ever so slightest yet graceful hand gesture to go. Then, it–she–whatever the hell it was, made the sign of the cross.

  “Vaya con Dios,” Ella whispered back.

  “Uh, what just happened?” Justin retorted, barely moving his lips like a confused ventriloquist dummy.

  The Zs groaned in apparent protest. The Z woman hissed and shrieked at them. Telling them to obey? And then, miraculously, the Zs parted.

  “Dude, uh, uh,” Justin choked out, “me thinks we’re supposed to leave. Like now!”

  “And walk through the horde?” Luther struggled with the concept.

  “It’s okay,” Ella said. “Her aura is good.”

  “Auras, talking Zs, magical crystals . . .” Luther muttered as they walked through the opening. The horde growled and glared and pawed at them as they walked by. Others stared back in bug-eyed wonderment. He avoided direct eye contact. It was too much to take in.

  The three of them disappeared into the maniacal mob of defectors just as Humvees charged Zoat Street. Luther patted his skipping heart. “Oh, Aunt Mattie, what kind of crazy Voodoo shit did you get me into?”

  Chapter 32

  Scarlett Lewis pushed her heavy cart along the edge of the country highway as if expecting fast-moving vehicles to pass by. But the rut-riddled road amuck with grasses protruding from the cracks was void of traffic.

  Living in Last State the past several months, she had forgotten the desolate emptiness of the Lost States of America. Occasionally, she glimpsed travelers off in the distance who must have escaped through the tunnel. Did they know where they were going?

  Dean wanted to reach the rally point before dark. Naturally, it was the smartest plan of action, still she guilted over leaving Luther, Ella, and Justin. If anyone could find them, Luther could. He was a protector like herself, only he was far more powerful. He adamantly denied having metaphysical abilities. However, denial only worked for so long.

  Anxiousness lingered in the air, freezing her lungs. Walking down a main road in broad daylight rattled her core. From what Justin had said, Enforcers didn’t venture far from Zoat’s border.

  “Everyone doing all right?” Dean asked for the hundredth time.

  “How much further?” Scarlett asked after walking for nearly two hours.

  “Reckon another ten miles or so,” Dean said with a positive note. “Once we get there, we’ll hole-up in the first decent building we come across. And wait for the gang. Providing you gals think it’s safe.”

  Only Dean knew where they were going. All she knew with certainty; they were in New Mexico. They hadn’t discussed the exact location, concerned she might unintentionally give it away to the Ancient Ones. It was difficult maintaining her Merkaba while sending protective energies to Ella and Mateo. And Justin and Luther.

  Lost in thought, the peculiar odor wafting in the breeze brought her back. She couldn’t quite place it. As she squinted into the late afternoon sun, the blackened fields came into focus. Black specks drifted in the erratic wind gusts.

  “Not to worry, it’s ash,” Dean said. “Looks like the fire swept through here recently.”

  She stopped and stared at the sky, waiting for Mindy’s reaction. But she found no comfort. As usual, Mindy remained aloof.

  Dean eyed the sky warily. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The desolation must gnaw at his nerves too. Mindy’s baby broke the uncomfortable silence. The whimpering turned into bawling, which was unusual. Starla was the epitome of the perfect baby: she never fussed.

  “Feeding time?” Scarlett asked.

  Mindy gaped at her with fear-filled eyes. Dean jolted to a halt. A piercing pain spiked Scarlett’s forehead.

  “They see us!” Twila screamed from under the tarp. “Make your mind go blank!”

  Their squawking gave them away. Scarlett spun around. What they had assumed was ash morphed into a swarm of blackbirds. They swayed to and fro in unison, taking over the western skyline. They were coming. For them. And there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  “Hell’s bells!” Dean cursed. “Grab the kids! Dump your carts! We’ll shelter under them.”

  Mystified by the mesmerizing murmuration, her astral body drifted to the sky.

  “Mommy, come back!” The warning echoed through Scarlett’s mind, but she had lost control of her will.

  Scarlett didn’t understand why Dean stood next to her, shaking her back, when all she desired was to fly away—for an eternity. But that look of petrifying desperation in Dean’s eyes brought her back.

  Dean darted to Mindy. “Crouch down. I’ll cover you with the cart.” He froze. “Two babies? Is that Mateo?” He quickly placed the cart over Mindy.

  Did he say, two babies, Scarlett puzzled, floundering with her cart. The birds swooped closer, their shrieks insufferable.

  “Dean?” Scarlett yelped out at the unbearable pain stabbing her blind.

  Dean rushed back to her. “Scarlett, sit. On the road.” He grabbed Twila. “In your mama’s lap.”

  They huddled as small as they could while Dean flipped the cart over them. Instead of focusing on the Ancient Ones’ minions, Scarlett pondered over why Mindy had Mateo. It was like one of those ridiculous dreams that didn’t make sense, no matter how she rationalized it.

  “Grandpa Dean”—trembling-terror took over Twila’s voice—“hurry!”

  Through the cart’s metal grids, Scarlett helplessly watched the fiendish flock swarm Dean. She should help him. She knew she should. Yet, she was paralyzed.

  Dean kicked and cursed. He flung his arms, knocking them away. Gathering her inner strength, using mind over matter, Scarlett sent an ethereal energy blast at the blackbirds. The birds squawked and nipped at each other as if blaming each other for the attack.

  Relief gasped through her lips when Dean made it under his cart. Then, an invisible force retaliated. Her head spun. The pecking of beaks, the slashing of talons, ripped at her skin. Her vision went blood-red. Blood poured out of every orifice of her body. An image of Luther’s Andara crystal flooded her mind. That’s what they want!

  “No!” She had to protect it. A sudden knowing warned the illusion would soon manifest into a reality if she didn’t regain cerebral control. With Twila limp in her arms, Scarlett willed in calmness. A tingling sensation climbed up her feet and to her root chakra, grounding her.

  Scarlett plunged into her inner sanctuary. She stood in the middle of an infinite beach. Time ebbed away like a cosmic ocean in low tide. An hourglass took over her inner vision. The last grains of humanity remained. Grain by grain, humanity spiraled down, slipping down . . . into nonexistence.

  A familiar voice spoke to her about something called Entangled in Time, of all things. “Time is on your side . . .” an enchanting voice repeated. Images of continuous colorful geometric patterns bloomed into life. Fractals, she suddenly knew. A magnificent mandala swirled with a myriad of archaic numerals chiseled from stone spiraled in and out of focus.

  ***

  The next thing she remembered, Dean was massaging her shoulders. His words finally registered. “They’re gone.”

  A wide-eyed Twila ran to Dean. Instead of comforting Twila, Scarlett ran to Mindy sitting beside her overturned cart. She had to know. To her amazement, Mindy coddled two babies strapped to her chest. There was no mistaking Ella’s Archangel Michael pendant around Mateo’s neck.

  “W
hy didn’t you tell us?” Scarlett demanded, hurt Ella hadn’t confided in her.

  “ ’Cause,” Twila shouted, “only Mindy and I know how to keep the bad ones away. You and Dean don’t try hard enough.”

  Scarlett pushed back the anger threatening to lash out. She wanted to scream, “How could she try harder?” This was all—too much! Still, so much more was at stake than her own well-being. “Dean, she’s right. We must mask our thoughts. Every second of the day,” Scarlett hissed, releasing her pent-up fury as if deflating an overly filled tire. Although she didn’t see how it would be possible during dreamtime.

  “Oh, Grandpa Dean. Does it hurt bad?”

  Lost in her funk, Scarlett finally realized Dean had taken a beating. Spurts of blood pocked his arms where the birds had pecked him.

  “I’ll be fine,” Dean assured, hugging Twila. “Folks, get those carts loaded.” The look in his eyes as he searched the skies belied his steady voice.

  “Twila, help Mindy load her cart.” Scarlett grabbed the tea tree oil from her tactical vest. The oil’s antibacterial and antiviral properties would help fight off infection.

  “You think those things, whatever they are, will be back?” Dean husked under his breath, wincing at her gentle dabbing.

  She wanted to ease his mind, but the words stuck in her throat. Dean was the group’s equalizer, taking on the responsibility of their day-to-day survivalist decisions, keeping them safe. Alive.

  The tired lines around Dean’s eyes creased deeper. “We lost two hours! I tell you what,” he chattered on, “those things give me the screaming meemies.”

  Two flippin’ hours? No wonder she was so depleted. “Shouldn’t Luther be back—” Scarlett started.

  “Anytime now, I’m sure,” Dean said. But she didn’t buy it as he haphazardly hurled supplies into his cart. “We ought to get going. Got an hour of daylight left.”

  The roar of an engine took them by surprise.

  A camouflage military truck approached. “What are Enforcers doing out here?” Dean grabbed his Glock.