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

by Popovich, A. D.

“Dean,” Luther interrupted, “hang back. Me and Justin will get the van.” Luther firmly handed his M4 to Dean. “You and Scarlett sniper the stragglers.”

  Holy shit! Crawlers could be out there. Hiding in the grasses. Please, God, Goddess—whoever’s listening out there, please let this cray-cray scheme work, Justin chanted to himself.

  Dean accepted the weapon. “I’ll cover you best I can.”

  “So, once we get there, we look for the van’s keys,” Justin rambled on, amping himself. Those grasses were so . . . tall.

  “Forget the damn keys,” Luther huffed. “If they’re not in the ignition, I’m hotwiring it.”

  “Ye-ah, right. Okay.” Justin kicked at the loamy soil. He needed to focus.

  “Scarlett, you mind gathering the supplies just outside the backdoor? I’ll give you a shout-out if I need sniper assistance,” Dean said.

  “I’ll help you, Mommy,” Twila chirped.

  “You ready for this?” Luther slapped a fresh mag into his Glock.

  Justin patted himself down, making sure he had his knife and extra mags. He planted a quick kiss on Ella’s pouty lips. “Love you, hon,” he mouthed. He avoided looking at his son to keep from choking up.

  Ella adamantly shook her head no, looking from Dean to Luther to Justin with sadness spilling from her watery eyes. Justin nodded yes. He had to go. A horde was coming—for them. It was like he envisioned them snaking through the plains. This ESP thing really sucks. But deep down, he recognized it for the lifesaver it was.

  “Let’s make haste.” Dean steered him and Luther out the bunkhouse’s backdoor while Scarlett gathered their supplies. “I’ll be right here. Holler if you see anything a’tall.”

  Justin and Luther crept to the edge of the clearing. The HAZMAT van was maybe two to three football fields away. It might as well be a freaking mile away.

  “Bro,” Luther said with a heavy breath, “let’s do this side-by-side.”

  The grasses were tall enough to hide Justin on his hands and knees. Luther, twice his size, had to basically bellycrawl it. The annoying wind stirred up the foul odor of de-activated Zs, stuffing his nose. A not-so-faraway groan morphed into a bloodcurdling howl. Luther big-eyed him and grumbled something. But they kept on.

  They detoured around a Blue Suit juddering on the ground. He—it—wasn’t alive. But it wasn’t completely undead. How long would it be stuck in that in-between state? He imagined the horror the man must be going through—waiting to die. To turn. Zombie.

  Still, they snuck through the endless grassy sea like cursed characters lost in the cornfields of Children of the Corn. If they didn’t run into the van soon, they’d have to risk poking their heads above the grass line.

  The swaying grasses revealed a patch of white. “The van!” Only a few feet away.

  Luther reached the van first. “When I open the door,” he whispered, “climb over to the passenger side. I’ll be tailing your ass.”

  Luther was right. Frisking the de-activated Blue Suits for the keys would take too long. Besides, the keys could be anywhere. Once Luther opened the door, Justin nimbly climbed to the passenger side. Luther took a seat behind the wheel. They stared at the ignition so hard it would have started if either of them had been gifted telekinetic powers.

  Justin pulled down the sun visors. No keys. “Crap!”

  Luther snapped open a pearl-handled switchblade trimmed in gold. It could have been an heirloom from Buckingham Palace. “Bro, this is some spookly shit. Keep an eye out while I do my thing.”

  “Sure.” Justin wanted to watch, but now wasn’t the time. His eyes went spastic trying to pinpoint the source of the constant scratchy sounds grating on his nerves. Just the grasses chafing in the breeze. Right? He attempted humming an old nineties song to calm his nerves, but his throat had gone dry. Something was over there. Crawling through the grasses. Or was it the freaking wind? “Dude, hurry!” His hands went clammy.

  The van started. Then stalled. Luther tried again, revving the engine. “Yeah, baby.”

  “Over there!” Justin pointed. “I swear I saw—” A hand treading through the grass?

  And then, swarmageddon! The horde lurched up from the grasses. Luther plowed right over them. Why was Luther going to the bunkhouse? They needed to de-activate the horde first.

  “Uh, uh—” Justin understood why. “Faster, dude.” From the west, X-strains ran for the bunkhouse. There was no way Dean and Scarlett could handle that many.

  “I’ll pull up to the backdoor.” Luther kept his eyes straight ahead. “Get Ella and the baby in the back of the van. And I’ll cover you.”

  “Ye-ah, okay.” Gauging the X-strains’ speed, it was going to be close.

  Dean and Scarlett stepped into view, firing at the horde. As the van skidded to a stop, Justin bailed out.

  “Dean, get Twila,” Scarlett shouted. She fired into the charging horde. She must be getting back her groove.

  Justin understood; hordes always kickstarted him out of a funk and back into survival mode.

  “Onyx, run away!” Twila shrieked.

  Justin did a double-take at the black horse racing back and forth in the distance. It went into a bucking and rearing fit. Was it the same horse that had followed him from the tunnel to the lodge? Way weird.

  While Luther and Scarlett fired into the encroaching horde, Justin flung open the van’s rear doors. “Yikes!” There was no time to ditch the occupied body bags strapped to the driver’s side of the van.

  Ella stood by the backdoor and stared at the body bags, shaking her head and rocking Mateo inside the knapsack around her neck.

  “C’mon!” He met her halfway, nailing a Z in the brains as it hurdled for them. He practically had to carry her into the van, setting her on the floor. He spun around. Firing at the Zs within lunging distance.

  Dean tossed Twila next to Ella with a thump. Scarlett, the awesome shot she was, kept them at bay while Luther hurled the supplies on top of the body bags.

  “Justin! Scarlett! Get in the back,” Luther thundered. “Dean, up front!”

  Justin hopped into the back of the van just as Twila scurried out of his way. He helped Scarlett in. He slammed the van’s rear door a nanosecond before Zs body-slammed it.

  “Hold on!” Luther floored it.

  Justin fell flat on his ass—onto the lumpy body bags. Gross! He struggled for his balance and struggled not to puke.

  “What the devil!” Dean shouted. “Got a convoy of Enforcers headin’ our way. Keep out of sight back there.”

  Through the caged-door separating the cab from the back of the van, Justin eyed the convoy. His brain raced, searching for something to cover them with. What was in that metal case? Sweeet, HAZMAT suits.

  “Guys, get in the corner behind Dean.” He tossed the bulky suits over Ella and Mateo, Twila, and Scarlett. He sat on the floor behind the caged-door and covered himself with a pile of suits. From his viewpoint through the windshield, Humvees created a line of defense to stop the horde from gaining ground. Standard procedure.

  “Any ideas?” Luther’s voice went gravelly.

  “So, play it cool,” Justin said. “Blue Suits are like celebs of zombie America.” Nobody wanted the repulsive job; only cits with low gag reflexes were assigned to it. But it paid hella good.

  Luther acknowledged them with a friendly honk and slowed down. Justin braced for interrogation, grinding his teeth until his jaw twinged.

  “Good God!” Luther veered off to the right.

  Gunfire took over. They better not be shooting at the van. “What’s happening?” Justin blustered.

  “Son of a—” Dean started.

  “Haha-haaa!” Luther laughed it off. “They waved us through the line of scrimmage.”

  Dean exhaled heavily. “Looks like we got out of that one unscathed. The road’s just ahead.”

  “Ella?” Justin dug through the HAZMAT suits. “You okay?”

  Ella answered with a tiny, “Uh-huh.”

  “Which w
ay?” Luther braked at the intersection.

  Dean turned to Justin. “Son, you know Last State better than any of us. How do we get to Quinton’s?”

  But they had driven to the Stanwycks under the cover of night. He didn’t know where they were. “Uh, uh . . .” Justin was stuck in a loop. How in the heck were they making it into the infamous Forbidden Zone? The spamming of negative thoughts corrupted his mental bandwidth.

  Scarlett cleared her throat. “We’re fairly close to the Zhetto Market if that helps.”

  “Use your rational brain,” Dean butted in. “If you were monitoring that open-air market in Zhetto, how would you get to the Forbidden Zone?” He made everything sound so easy.

  “Ye-ah, okay. We’re still in Z-zone,” Justin mumbled to himself, defragging his thoughts for optimal performance.

  “There’s a highway off in the distance,” Luther announced, looking through the binocs.

  “That would be Interstate Twenty-seven,” Dean said without looking at the map.

  The little lightbulb in Justin’s head suddenly flashed. In theory, he knew where they were. “Ye-ah, the west side of the interstate is Z-zone, and the east side is Y-zone,” he reasoned out loud, tuning out the fear holding him hostage. “So, we need to get to the interstate. Then we connect to three-eighty east. That’ll get us to the industrial sector. Which borders the Forbidden Zone.”

  Luther didn’t wait for a unanimous decision. He peeled out and raced for the interstate.

  Mateo’s whining turned into balling. On the verge of losing his cool, Justin nudged Ella. “Do something. Like, I can’t think!”

  “It’s time for the tea,” she snapped back.

  The distress in her voice didn’t help. But Justin didn’t have time to worry about Mateo. He was too busy worrying about everything else. He tried recalling everything he knew about the Forbidden Zone since he had studied the layout during his Zone training. If he could just envision it with his cool eidetic memory ability.

  He was forgetting something. Something important. Mateo, please shut-up! He covered his ears. What am I missing . . . Holy crap—shit! “Guys, I just realized something.”

  Luther braked hard. “Now what?” Their eyes locked in the rearview mirror.

  “During a RedDead Alert—the Zones go into lockdown.”

  “But you said we could take the van.” Ella’s voice wavered with despair.

  “We can,” Justin quickly added. “But Luther and Dean need to play the part.” He eyed the utility cabinets lining the upper sides of the van. He banged open the cabinets and rummaged through packages of sanitized scrubs.

  “Really, I’m trying to get mijo to sleep,” Ella griped.

  “What are you looking for?” Scarlett asked.

  “A triple-X for Luther.” Justin snagged a medium for Dean. “Found one. Dean, Luther, put on these el sicko powder-blue scrubs.”

  Dean opened the door. “Good thinking.”

  “Here.” Justin handed Luther a set. “Wear the tops and bottoms.” He grabbed one for him since his sweaty shirt clung to him like Saran Wrap. It wasn’t a typical Texan day if his shirt didn’t get all clingy and clammy.

  “Bro, this shade of blue don’t accentuate my eyes,” Luther razzed.

  “Ha-ha.” Justin fake-laughed. Luther often outwardly masked his fear with humor. Justin understood that all too well.

  “And I should tag the guys with Zac’s CitChips.” Justin grabbed the bag Zac had given him. “It’s a simple injection,” he said calmly, knowing Ella fed off of his angst.

  He pulled out a packaged syringe-device preloaded with a RFID chip while Dean and Luther put on the scrubs outside. Justin cleansed his hands with the sanitized pad included in the packet. “Easy-peasy.” He pressed the tip of the implant device to the webbed-skin between his thumb and forefinger.

  Before Ella could say “Ew,” he injected it.

  “Awesome, meet the new me, Marcus Stone.” He handed the ID card to Ella as a goof. “Next,” Justin quipped.

  ***

  They drove down the I-27 corridor without any confrontations. Until a convoy of Humvees flew past them on the opposite side of the interstate. Probably on their way to contain another Infected Incident.

  Luther looked like he was melting: sweat dribbled down his face. Justin realized they had been driving the entire time without the freaking air conditioner. “Dude, turn on the air.” He was surprised no one had noticed the heat. That’s how stressed they were.

  “Son of a gun,” Dean exclaimed. “Didn’t even think of it.”

  Dean hit the button to the air-conditioner and then fiddled through the glove compartment. He handed Luther a stack of napkins.

  Luther patted his face and held his head to the air vent. “Much better.”

  Scarlett gasped behind him. “I think we’re coming to a roadblock.”

  “Yep, Junction Three-eighty, one mile,” Dean read with the help of binoculars.

  “We want three-eighty east for the Y-zone.” Justin gave Ella a kissy face before covering them with the blue suits. She answered with her cute I’m-only-sorta-pissed fishy face.

  As Luther followed the on-ramp’s curve, two Humvees blocked the entrance.

  “Good God Almighty! How’d you know?” Luther Kumbaya’d in the background.

  “Justin, ’bout time you took cover,” Dean husked under his breath.

  Justin tunneled under the pile of HAZMAT suits. “Guys, remember that power of suggestion hack.” Although it didn’t always work. “If they hassle you, tell them you ran out of body bags. That’ll scare them off.”

  “Think it in your mind until you believe it,” Twila insisted.

  “Luther, you up to this?” Dean’s voice quivered.

  “Boogity, boogity,” Luther chanted. “Beefing up my mojo.”

  Through a gap between the suits, Justin barely breathed and watched Luther rub his juju beads before stopping at the roadblock. Using his brainwaves, Justin pleaded for the Enforcers to scan the vehicle. Not Luther and Dean. Their fake CitChips would reveal they weren’t HAZMAT Responders.

  Luther rolled down his window. “Whut up?”

  “Wrong way. HQ shows your unit’s deployed to that dude ranch in Z-zone,” a stern voice reprimanded as if Luther was a screw-up.

  “Shhh-iiittt!” Luther drawled with deep-fried southern twang. “Them boneheads jacked up our orders again. We ran out of f’n body bags. Dispatch ordered us to the infirmary asap. Said we’re to drop off the Infecteds. And pick up a shitload of body bags.” He went into one of his exaggerated neckrolls and raged on. “Zhetto’s a clusterfuck of rank bodies.”

  A long unbearable silence followed. The good news, Mateo was super quiet, not even making his cute slurping sounds.

  “Between you and me, it’s been a shit show all day,” one of the Enforcers admitted.

  “No one knows what’s going on,” another voice complained.

  Tense laughter followed.

  A radio in the background chattered, “Be advised. RedDead Alert. All units in Y and X Zones respond to Sector Zulu Niner Six Two. I repeat, Sector Zulu Niner Six Two.”

  “Shit, that’s us,” an Enforcers said. “Hurry back. We’ll be needing you next.”

  Luther saluted them off. “Catch you on the rebound.”

  As the van drove off, Justin squeezed Ella’s hand under the suits. They had BS’d their way through another jam.

  “That was some smooth talkin’ back there,” Dean said.

  “Ol’ Luther’s nerves be twerking like a pole dancer,” Luther yelped.

  Dean handed Justin a slip of paper. “This is the address Zac gave us. Any idea what exit we take?”

  So much for his optimism. Justin was at a total loss.

  “I know, I know,” Miss Know It All Twila blurted. “It’s on a big green sign.”

  “Duh,” Justin exasperated.

  Ella’s squinched eyes warned him to play nice.

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” Twi
la retorted. “But I don’t know how to say the word.”

  Scarlett burrowed out from under the suits. “Are you sure?”

  Twila nodded emphatically. No one else questioned her.

  “There’s an exit coming up.” Dean turned back to Twila. “Parsippany Parkway?”

  “Yay!” Twila clapped, trying to say the wacky street name.

  “And then what?” Luther glanced back at him.

  “The safehouse is on Hingle Avenue.” Justin tried viewing it in his mind. But since he hadn’t seen the actual location before, his eidetic memory couldn’t recall it.

  “Alrighty then, we’ll just have to wing it,” Dean said with unbelievable coolness.

  “Ooh, I see the building in my inner vision,” Twila said. “Can’t you, Mommy?”

  “It’s too blurry for me to make out,” Scarlett said meekly.

  “But isn’t it in the Forbidden Zone?” Ella’s eyebrows went crooked with confusion.

  “Ye-ah. But probably just inside the sealed-off zone. So, Hingle Avenue must run north and south,” Justin theorized. “Straight into the Forbidden Zone.”

  “Then we’re bound to run into it sooner or later,” Dean reaffirmed.

  “Forbidden Zone . . .” Luther muttered. “Just saying it gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “Son”—Dean hesitated—“what exactly do you know ’bout this Forbidden Zone?”

  “Well, uh, since they don’t have enough Enforcers to patrol all of Last State, they sealed-off most everything within a hundred miles or so of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. Except for Zhetto. So, it’s been quarantined off for years. A freakin’ ghost town of—Zs.”

  They went super quiet after his last statement and continued searching for Hingle.

  “No people. No vehicles,” Luther muttered. “They must still be in lockdown.”

  “Ye-ah,” Justin said, “besides a few factories, this Sector is basically used as a thoroughfare to transport food and supplies from the outer zones’ farms, factories, and slaughterhouses to the grocery stores and restaurants in the metroplex.”

  “Don’t tell me that!” Twila covered her ears. “I’m a vegetarian. Remember?” Her eyes narrowed to slits.

  “It’s all right, sweetie,” Scarlett coddled.