“O-M-G,” Ella exclaimed. “Twila, you are so smart. The special monoatomic tea makes you sort of out of it—”
“Tell me about it. I only had a few swallows, and I thought I was tripping on shrooms,” Zac said with a funny look in his eyes. “Hypothetically speaking.” He winked.
She didn’t understand why everyone laughed. But she laughed along with them. Because Zac believed. And he loved Mommy as much as she did, only different. And, he was going to save Mommy!
Chapter 36
Scarlett Lewis paced the rounded, hand-dug room—her prison cell. The musty earth encrusted in her nostrils disguised the stench of their rotting flesh. How long had she been enslaved? A day? A century? It was all the same. She shook the wire-mesh gate entwined with human bones. The rattling bones confirmed her nightmare was a reality.
Her sparse living quarters were surrounded by three walls of dirt and the bone gate. They had finally given her a curtain after constant pestering, which she had hung in front of the waste bucket. A folding cot sat at the opposite end. Other than that, all she had was a plastic jug of water and a box of military MREs.
Each morning during the creepers’ pre-dawn restless sleep state, Scarlett had tuned in to their frequency of thoughts. Their mishmash of memories had revealed snapshots of their lives before the pandemic had mutated them into a perpetual state of existence—never living, never dying. Unexpectedly, she had also caught glimpses of their happiness.
But once they awakened, the wisps of happiness morphed into a chilling agony of helplessness tempered by hatred. They despised her. Despised the living part of her soul. At the same time, they revered her for the very reasons they hated her. Of that, she had no doubt. And so, she tempted them with false promises, these wannabe followers of the living, longing for life and fearing death.
In the room adjacent to hers, their murmurs intensified. They were anxious. Soon, the ceremony would begin. She didn’t know how it would fair. The Silver Lady had kept her distance and had only told her fate was not predestined. As time raced by, the Akashic Record of Souls dematerialized molecule by molecule. But, Hu-manity still had a chance. A chance in Hell. For the X-strain were one skeletal handful of dirt closer every second. Oh, she sensed their undying hunger pangs boring a hole in her own belly. They vowed to ravage the earth of all life like man-eating locusts.
Scarlett had worked out the details of her escape in the back of her mind. It was a far-fetched plan with little chance of success. She was counting on the tea to disorient them long enough for her to get away. If it didn’t work, she had resigned herself to becoming one of—them.
The creepers believed she was their savior. She hadn’t tried to persuade them otherwise. To be honest, she wasn’t sacrificing herself for the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity. She was only trying to save Twila. And should Scarlett become one of them, she would just have to endure the undead state until Twila eventually came into her own and healed the creeper sickness. It was the worst-case scenario she let herself think.
After heating the MRE with the flameless ration heater, she scarfed the tasteless beef ravioli, storing her energy. Footsteps scuffled heavily toward her room. It was him, the hairless creeper with the intense fiery eyes and ashen-gray skin. He called himself the King of the Undead. He couldn’t enunciate words. But she understood what he said all too well.
He was learning to read her thoughts, for he wore Shari’s lapis lazuli pendant around his neck. He often pressed the stone to his third eye and smiled at her with his perfect teeth. He was evolving. Into what, she wasn’t sure. Timing was of the essence before he saw into her treachery. The king didn’t admire her with the same vacant, blinkless eyes as the others. His eerie knowingness taunted her beyond the black, fiery depths of its eyes. Could he, it, see into the future?
“Scrlttt—” The King of the Undead garbled. “Scarlett, my queen to be. Here is the garment you requested. Befitting of a queen.” He opened the bone gate to hand her a silky bag. His yellowed fingernails grazed her wrist, scratching her flesh and drawing blood. His red-rimmed eyes bulged wider. His pupils dilated until his eyes turned into black-mirrored marbles. Her image reflected in his eyes. Death is what she saw. He licked her blood from his fingers. He shuddered.
Repulsion rippled through her. She held it under layers of cerebral shielding and smiled. “Thank you, my king.” She curtsied.
“Wrrr wtnggg frrr yyy,” he gurgled. “We’re waiting for you.”
“To be your queen is my honor. Bring the cauldron to a boil and allow me time to adorn myself for you, if you will.” She bowed slightly, hiding the fear quivering beneath her smile.
The King of the Undead cocked his head, unsure, probing her mind. She let him see. Planned thoughts popped into her head, those of joy and pride of the ceremony. The marriage . . . She braced herself before she cringed. His invasiveness cut into her. He wanted all of her. She held on, mustering her power.
The King of the Undead backed away and growled at his followers, who had gathered too closely behind him.
“Give my queen privacy,” the king gurgled. The creepers scurried away. He paused as if making sure she prepared for the ceremony. Then he left.
With shaky hands, Scarlett opened the silk bag. A burgundy velvet gown with a black satin cinch waist awaited her. She stripped and then slipped on the gown. It could have been from medieval times or from a costume party store. Either way, it was elegant. She had taken a bath in a metal tub this morning. It had been her only opportunity to groom since her imprisonment.
Scarlett clipped on the gaudy ruby earrings and flamboyant necklace. She slipped into a pair of black velvet flats covered with rhinestones, which were a bit too big. To stall for time, she had requested something elegant to wear for the marriage ceremony. She had begged the Silver Lady to find a way to rescue her before her charade had gone this far. Before the wedding. Visions of Zac had sporadically appeared, offering false promises, but they had dissipated along with all hope.
Included in the bag was a golden ornate hair clip. She piled her hair on top and clipped what would fit into the clip, letting the rest of her curly damp hair fall around her neck. How thoughtful, he had included a makeup bag, complete with a compact mirror. She wasn’t ready to be ready. And so, she delayed the inevitable and applied a thick layer of the ruby-red lipstick, followed by mascara, and then a heavy application of black eyeliner.
With a trembling heart, she eyed her reflection in the mirror. Ella’s face suddenly appeared back at her. A message from Ella? Zac’s coming! The words bounced from the mirror into her heart. Her heart rejoiced. When?
The King of the Undead strutted with confidence to her cell. Had he seen her elation? To disguise her thoughts, she replaced them with eager anticipation of the wedding. “Does this suit my king?” She let out a wide-dimpled smile. Hurry, Zac! She hoped her rather staggering appearance would throw off his attempts to capture her true intentions. For, she had always made a rather stunning Morticia at Halloween with her long black hair crowned with a widow’s peak. The gown was absolutely bewitching if one were into gothic attire.
The king ogled her, swaying, stumbling for words. He wished he could articulate more than ever as she listened to his frustrating attempt to say “Exquisite.”
Relieved he hadn’t seen her veiled thoughts, she smiled like a pin-up girl posing for a gothic Cosmopolitan issue, attempting to seduce him with the spectacle, the making of the Queen of the Undead. However, there would be no wedding if her plan worked.
With adept hands, the king unlocked the padlock to the bone-meshed gate. After opening it, he held out his boney hand to her. She accepted graciously. They walked down a dark corridor and then entered an oblong room. The walls were embedded with human bones in a scene from the Catacombs of Paris.
Skeletal hands protruded from the dirt walls. They clutched bouquets of withered roses like medieval sconces. A creeper in a long black robe shuffled to each bouquet and lit the dried roses with a torch. In th
e center of the room, a large cauldron of water roiled, reminding her time was running out.
“Perfect. You can stop the fire. If the water is too hot, it will destroy the tea,” she explained. The king gurgled to his followers. Several of the more dexterous creepers scrambled about and doused the flames under the caldron. The black-robed creeper shuffled toward her, painstakingly trying not to trip. It or she returned the tin of tea the king had stolen from Scarlett.
It was time. The time they had waited so long for. The king had told her of the prophecy. The Akashic Records had revealed the Etherium Gold would awaken his kind. The blue-eyed one had been fated to lead them out of the darkness, forging the way to equality for their new species. Scarlett couldn’t help but wonder if she was breaking a sacred cosmic oath, betraying humanity with her actions.
Scarlett majestically presented the tin of monoatomic powder with raised hands. Sorry, Ella. “The magical tea will return you to the living! It will rejuvenate your damaged DNA. It will free you from your insatiable hunger. A life of equality and happiness and love awaits!” Scarlett announced in the grand, authoritative tone of a soon-to-be queen.
She poured the powdery mixture into the cauldron. Its silvery hue shimmered in the flickering lights of a thousand flaming roses casting ominous shadows on the walls. She had no idea what would happen when they drank the tea. The last inscription she had read in the Akashic Records before it had de-materialized before her eyes had been to guard the Prima Matra with her life. If the un-deads had one taste, humanity would never be the same. She was a traitor. Still, if she didn’t save Twila, she would also be a traitor. A traitor to her own heart.
The king presented her with a rather large, tarnished, brass spoon. She took a royal bow and accepted it. She stirred the cauldron with grandiose movements, delaying the inevitable. The king paced. She tapped into his impatient apprehension. Was she taking her liberties too far? He lurched to the cauldron. He dipped an ornate golden chalice, hand and all, into the steaming cauldron. Scarlett’s heart jumped to her throat. Had he seen her heart beating for Zac?
“Yyy frsttt.” His eyes flickered with fire and brimstone.
The far-fetched ritual had suddenly turned hellishly real. There was nothing she could do. One of her against hundreds. She accepted the cup, holding it to her lips. She took a sip, not sure how she would respond. Its euphoria, as Ella had described, would cause her to lose control of her thoughts.
The king glowered. He brandished his fists in the air. He knew trickery was in the midst. “Drnkkk,” he gurgled.
“I can’t drink it like you, for I already live . . .” Scarlett dared to say.
It started a teeth-chattering conversation from the congregation of creepers. Her plan wasn’t working. Mayhem was about to ensue. Would they shred her to pieces? Would her king protect her? She thought not. Based on the skeletal-shored walls, the blue-eyed ones before her, whose whispered warnings haunted her sleep, had failed. She downed the entire cup in a rather dramatic fashion and then flung the cup in the air. “To my king!” Scarlett proclaimed.
A second later, her body ignited from the inside out. The pure original Prima Matra that birthed the first humans infused every cell of her body. She had sensed its powerful healing ability. It had even healed Justin to the point where his Z-bite hadn’t been detected by Last State. For an empath such as herself, she found it overwhelming.
Scarlett struggled, unable to keep her light-body within her physical body. Her ethereal body hovered to the cave’s ceiling. She sashayed around, reaching for it like a zany character snatching invisible gnats. Could they see the prana lights dancing around the room, or did they think she had gone mad?
The creepers’ protruding eyes widened in apparent enthrallment, following her every move as her dress billowed around her. Unable to contain the bliss bubbling from her aura, she encouraged them to “Drink! Drink!” while her heart sang Zac’s coming! Zac’s coming! The creepers rushed the cauldron. They plunged their grotesque heads into the pot and drank. Several, jumped into the scalding cauldron, screaming like panthers in heat.
Scarlett danced around the room, lost in ecstasy. She twirled around, and there he was. The darkness in his eyes told her that he hadn’t indulged in the tea. Much taller than her, he stared down his angular nose, raking her with those hellish eyes. She winced despite the euphoria entrancing her soul. His lust for her was beyond desire as there was no word to describe his obsession to devour her essence.
Unbound bliss burst to the surface. She no longer feared him, lost in the elation Zac was coming for her. That he loved her! Tears of happiness escaped down her cheeks. The King of the Undead went into a vengeful howling rage. His anger reverberated off the walls’ decaying bones and into her heart. Terror quickly eclipsed her bliss.
Her head swam. She felt herself descending, lost in a free-fall of never landing . . .
Chapter 37
Zac Padilla kept the truck at a steady pace as he drove toward the tunnel. It had taken Dean and Luther longer than he had hoped to fix the starter. Meanwhile, he worried more about an ambush than drones since the digital license plate gave him authority to own a vehicle in Zoat.
He prayed damn hard Last State hadn’t sealed off the tunnel. Only a few of his compadres were privy to the tunnel that butted against the back of Boom Town. It was too narrow for vehicles although he had used it for mule train operations before he had been recruited from a small-time smuggler to a big-time commodities broker for the Elites. He had never questioned his ability to stay on mission and secure the requested payload. He had just assumed he had been born with the knack of finding things. Now I understand. It was his Soul Mission according to the precocious Twila.
He had enjoyed smuggling in the beginning: the challenge, the adrenaline rush of pushing himself to the limit, never knowing what was around the next corner. But he had quickly tired of the deep-seated corruption he had to contend with. Don’t tango with the white tigers. The Elites always won, no matter the costs.
Sure, he was a cocky son of a bitch; it was part of the job description. But he wasn’t so cocky to think he wasn’t expendable. His last mission had gone sideways, marring his perfect reputation. Nonetheless, he had secured helos of payload in the past. His reputation should secure him another high-asset mission. His last one. He was counting on it.
Aw, but this time he would use the assets to find a new safe zone to start a new life with Scarlett and Twila. And what the hell, the rest of her kooky friends as well. He suddenly understood more than ever, life for the average joe-schmo in the state once known as Texas was a sham. There was no freedom. He had been playing ball for the wrong team, thinking it was the only way to stay in the game. He had thought wrong. Sooner or later, they would bench him.
Luther rolled down the window an inch. He sniffed at the air. “I can smell those stinking nimrods a mile away,” Luther jabbered.
Luther must be as nervous as he was. Was this a suicide mission?
“Believe . . .” Twila whispered.
“When we get to the tunnel, I’ll need a minute to study the layout,” Zac informed.
“Hey, do what you need to do,” Luther said, panning the plains.
The ravine he had been following widened ahead. He turned the truck through an opening in the ravine. They would continue the rest of the trip along the creekbank, out of sight from Zhetts.
“Bro, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact you didn’t lose a single passenger on your wagon train trips from California to Boom Town, aka, Checkpoint Charlie,” Luther said. “I mean, I know what it was like. Crossing the desert was ball-breaking.”
“I know. Hard to believe. Even for me.” Zac had lost track of all his trips, outfoxing marauders and outrunning hordes. Always finding safe passage across the rivers and finding water sources in the deserts. He had gotten it down to a science, calculating the payload for each trip, how many miles a team of horses could travel based on the weather and terrain, and how many peo
ple the custom-designed wagons could transport without overburdening the horses.
“Impressive,” Luther agreed.
“My trusty sixth sense never let me down until my last mission. Man, if Dean hadn’t opened the gate . . .”
“Think about it. Your last mission brought you to Boom Town. We wouldn’t have been in the tunnel. I’m thinking you saved our lives.” Luther’s statement took him by surprise.
“That’s a profound way to look at it.” Zac followed the meandering creek.
“You must have friends in high places,” Luther commented.
“Exactly!”
“I don’t have one iota what my purpose is,” Luther lamented.
“Try examining it from a different angle. You might see a pattern. For me, it’s finding people and things.” Or perhaps they find me, Zac mused.
“Nope, I don’t have a special ability,” Luther insisted.
“Sure, you do. You’re still alive.” It was a sign one had a special ability or was a ruthless son of a bitch. Either way, Zac wasn’t so sure survival was a blessing.
“I’m drawing a blank,” Luther said, panning the banks with binoculars.
“Let’s backtrack. Did you know Dean, Justin, Ella, and Scarlett before this craziness?” Zac inquired, curious about Luther’s story.
“Nope. It all started off with a wacky phone call from Justin. Then Dean and Justin ending up saving my big-ass from a stinking ugh-lee horde.”
“And you stayed with them?” Zac let the words sink in. “Think about it. Why didn’t you move on?”
“I see where you’re going with this. Actually, Dean and I were separated from the group for a while. We met up again by chance. At that point, we all thought Scarlett had died. Dean, Justin, and Ella ended up going with me to live with my buddy in Reno. My buddy never made it.” Luther seemed lost in thought.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 3): Last State Page 31