“Mommy!” Twila yelled from the rear exit.
Justin waved his arms frantically at hundreds of beady blood-red eyes drilling into his mind. “The birds!” Justin bellowed.
“Just an illusion,” he barely heard Scarlett say as the blackbirds’ shrieks invaded his consciousness.
Could they both have the same vision at the same time? He retaliated with his mind and shoved their pecking invasion back. How can this not be—real, he marveled as Dean lead him onto the bus.
Feeling like he had just teleported into The Birds, live on-set, Justin steadied his nerves and fought back the fanic trying to take over. Once on the bus, their uncertain faces quizzed each other, wanting answers. “What the heck just happened?”
“The Ancient Ones’ minions found us,” Scarlett started. “But, if we all saw them. That must mean they now know all of us are part of the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity.”
Dean cleared his throat tentatively. “I, for one, didn’t see a blasted thing. But the terror on your faces dern near gave me a heart attack,” Dean confessed with a tone of resonate evil.
“It’s not safe here!” Twila warned. And then she went into her freaky statue state. Scarlett caught her before she fell.
Luther quickly locked the rear door and stared at it as if waiting for the blackbirds to bust through. “Lordy, Lordy, Aunt Matilda, what in hell did you get us into?”
“What did your aunt tell you?” Justin demanded, wondering why he was suddenly mad at Luther.
Luther flopped onto the futon. “I forget—”
“Concentrate,” Scarlett pushed.
Luther closed his eyes. Suddenly, his hands flew to his head. “‘See someting dark a comin’ for ya,’” Luther rasped, sounding just like her. “‘Ya betta run, boy. Run! Like it be da devil chasin’ ya.’”
“O-M-G!” Ella gasped.
“Anything else?” Dean asked.
Luther’s eyes widened. “Pi-za,” his toned turned ghastly. “Piz-za. Pizza.”
“You got me on that one.” Dean chortled uneasily. “I’d say, you’re on the mend.”
“Not funny.” Ella girly-punched Luther in the arm. “Hey, I can make pizzas,” Ella said between giggles. “One of those survival food buckets is a pizza kit. With freeze-dried mozzarella. We have a little salami left.”
“Boom! Ol’ Luther the Great just manifested pizza for his friends,” Luther zinged back.
“So, the birds don’t exist,” Justin mumbled in confusion.
“I always assumed,” Scarlett said, “the blackbirds were a symbolic warning from my higher-self.”
Whatever that means, Justin grumbled to himself.
Twila poked her head around the curtained bunk bed with the wide-round eyes of a possessed child. “The airplane is looking for hordes. They don’t know we’re here. But the bad ones do.”
“Alrighty then”—Dean took over—“we should reconnoiter the border wall and then hash out our escape plans.”
Dean was always ready to prioritize when things went wonky. He unfolded the faded, torn map for the gazillionth time. “Say, Justin, did you get a good look at the Forbidden Zone’s border wall?”
Justin swallowed hard. They weren’t going to like this. “Operation RayGun—” It came out more foreboding than he intended.
“Knock it off.” Dean’s narrowing eyes warned. “Time to get down to business.” He laid the map on the table, smoothing out the creases.
“Guys, I’m serious. Wanna know the real reason smugglers don’t loot the Forbidden Zone?” Everyone turned to him. “The Zhetto side of the Forbidden Zone’s perimeter is armed with military tanks. Like one every few hundred feet.”
“As in manned tanks?” Luther balked with an elongated neckroll.
“And you’re just now telling us?” Dean’s face started to go purple.
“I know. I know,” Justin blurted before Dean went supernova on him. “I thought they would have moved them with the horde outbreak and all.” Now that he had seen a preview of coming attractions—a wonderful future, there had to be a way out of Last State.
Dean’s glare softened.
Time to tell them the rest. “The tanks are remotely operated.” But that wasn’t the scary part. “Uh, they’re upgraded with this ingenious non-lethal direct energy weapon used for riot control.”
Dean’s scathing glare returned.
During Justin’s Think Tank gig with Last State, one of his training modules had been analyzing livestream feed of an actual breach. “No one lasts more than like three seconds. It makes you feel like your skin’s on fire.”
“Ew!” Ella shrieked from the kitchen sink. “How can that not be lethal?”
Dean nodded in recognition. “Heard ’bout those. Kyle served in Afghanistan. He said our military weaponized microwave-like gizmos and mounted them to tanks.”
“Exactly,” Justin said. “It shoots out invisible waves. Great for riot control and perimeter defense.”
The bus went quiet. The only sound was Ella kneading a ball of dough on the counter next to the sink. Was she actually making the pizza, now? Then again, cooking calmed her.
“I don’t suppose this weapon works on the dead-heads,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“I wish,” Justin muttered back. “It just sorta slows them down.”
“You should have told us.” Ella’s eyes went dark—with fear?
Then it came to him. “Duh, the tanks face toward Zhetto, not us.”
Luther’s eyes widened in acknowledgment. “So, we bust through the fence with the bus.” Luther fist-bumped him from across the table.
“Right.” Dean rubbed his chin. “We just need to find the right spot.”
“Like a blind spot. Since”—Justin grimaced—“the energy blasts through windows.”
Suddenly, all eyes scanned the windows on the bus.
“What if—we cover the rear of the bus with metal? And we drive the bus full-throttle through the wall like a bat out of hell,” Dean bellowed in uncharacteristic excitement.
“We have to leave. Now!” Twila demanded.
“Or we won’t make it,” Scarlett added bluntly, eyeing Mindy, who finally joined them.
“Mindy, what’s your input?” Dean asked.
“Whatever you decide. Sorry, you think I’m a loser,” Mindy seemed to say directly to Justin. “All I can do is meditate. More like, visualize a protective shield around us.”
More like saving her own ass. And Starla’s, Justin wanted to say. Twila flashed him a dirty look.
“And you’re doing a mighty fine job.” Dean was such a softy when it came to the girls.
“I think . . .” Scarlett paused. “I’m getting fragments of information. Like scenes from the cutting-room floor. When I piece them all together . . .”
Ella inched toward them with the ball of dough in her hands.
“People—everywhere. Running! Escaping to the outer Zones,” Scarlett announced like a tense war correspondent live at the scene.
Twila screamed from her bunk. A shrilly scream that would not stop. Scarlett rushed to her.
Mindy croaked, “The dark energy found us. My shield isn’t strong enough.” Tears rolled down her flushed face.
“The hell we can’t!” Luther thundered.
A nanosecond later, the bus lurched. The squabbling-squawking of birds sent barbs of terror up and down Justin’s spine.
“Shut the dern windows!” Dean yelled.
It was gonna get super hot. Super quick. A harrowing crackle made Justin freeze. He turned around slowly, eye to eye with Ella. And he wished he hadn’t. The horror oozing from her totally crushed him.
“Guys!” Justin pointed to the broken glass three windows down.
Dean made it there first. “Need something to cover the window—”
“Catch!” Ella yelled.
To Justin’s amazement, instead of freezing up, Ella frisbeed the round pizza pan.
Dean didn’t hesitate; he caught it like an u
ltimate frisbee pro.
Luther was there with the toolbox. “The cordless drill should still have some juice left.” He had reinforced his bedframe earlier after he had broken it.
The window screen ripped as the birds pecked away at the cracked glass. Dean thrust the round pan against the window. “Justin, hold the pan. Luther, I could use some of those screws right ’bout now.”
Justin squeezed in beside Dean and held the pan firmly against the window.
“There’s some screws in here somewhere.” Luther dumped the top tray onto the floor. “Yeah, baby!” He held up a handful of screws like he had just won the lottery.
Dean drilled away. But another crackle pierced through the ruckus.
“Over here!” Scarlett warned. “Ella, is there another pan!”
“We don’t have enough pans—” Twila’s monotone voice freaked him out even more.
Justin’s eardrums popped. It was like he actually felt the air pressure change, followed by a double sonic boom. All the windows exploded at the same time. “Guys, we have to get out here. Like now!”
As Justin darted to the driver’s seat, the horrific scene played out in slo-mo: Scarlett running for Twila, Dean shielding Ella, who looked like she was trying to get to Mateo while Luther covered Mindy.
Once Justin was behind the wheel, those deranged birds poked at the crackled windshield with broken, bloodied beaks. No way—zombie birds? At least the windshield hadn’t bit the dust. But the buckling shattered glass would cave in on him any second.
Since the bus had been idling, the engine was primed. Unable to see a freaking thing, he floored it. “Shit!” He remembered the multi-car pile-up just ahead. He had studied it from the roof rack before his weird Shangri-La vision.
He brought up a holographic image of the road. And although he didn’t remember, his cool eidetic memory recalled everything. Still, he was driving by brail. He pointed the bus to the clearing beyond the shoulder, sideswiping an eighteen-wheeler. The screaming of metal versus metal overtook the birds’ maddening squawks.
He cranked the wheel to the left to avoid a burnt-out SUV. A few seconds later, he cranked it hard to the right, avoiding another stranded vehicle. Then, he swerved again to miss the next vehicle. He was one second away from totaling the bus. Their only protection. And the Border Wall was coming up. At a loss, he slowed down.
“Son, the frontage road is up ahead to your left,” Dean shouted.
Sure, he saw the turn-off in his mind, but seeing it in real-time and maneuvering the bus was completely different. “I can’t see anything with all these freakin’ birds!”
“Working on it,” Luther thundered. “Now we’re talking!”
“Smoke grenades!” Dean shouted.
“I’ll toss these bad boys to the front of the bus,” Luther yelled.
Would it work?
“Uncle Luther, be very, very careful,” Twila pleaded.
“If you hear me screaming—yank me down,” Luther shouted as he unlatched the emergency hatch.
“You betcha,” Dean assured.
“One, two.” Luther paused as if bracing himself. On three, he popped through the hatch.
The birds’ high-pitched screeches broke Justin’s concentration. It took all his willpower not to huddle into a ball and just scream. Unexpectedly, he lost sight of his eidetic memory. A swirling burst of green descended onto the windshield. The squawking faded off.
He was back in real-time. “I still can’t see shit!” He reached for Ella’s bat by the door. He punched a hole in the spider-veined glass, wide enough to see where he was going. “Hey! The birds are gone!” But no one cheered in celebration.
“Hang a left on Texline. Then, park it,” Dean answered calmly as if they were going to the mall. “We need to recon the best spot to bust through the wall.”
Justin suddenly felt like an absolute imbecile for thinking a place like Shangri-La was within their reach. For even if they escaped the Forbidden Zone, no place was ever going to be safe again. Not with Z-birds squawking the skies . . .
Chapter 24
Dean Wormer hid under a sprawling mimosa tree’s explosion of pink powder-puff blossoms. He studied the Zhetto side of the Forbidden Zone’s northern border wall. Last year’s shriveled-brown seed pods crunched under his jeans when he took a knee for an unobstructed view. It reminded him of the years’ worth of leaves piling up on his cabin’s deck. He liked to think he’d make it back there someday . . .
He spied the army of tanks securing the perimeter a good two hundred yards or so beyond the wall. The gun turrets pointed toward the north, not toward the border wall. This was going to be tougher than he thought.
The ambient babble of traffic wafted across the field during his drone activity surveillance. To get to Tent City, they’d have to cut over to Texas State Line Road, which appeared awfully busy with a slew of older vehicles heading north toward Tent City. Absolutely no traffic heading south.
The plan was straightforward: bust through the border wall and merge into the traffic. Although the psychedelic bus wouldn’t exactly blend in, especially with its shattered windows. He eyed the chain-link border wall. Hmm, no humming buzz. He tossed a handful of seedpods at the electrified fence. No zapping. The power grid must still be down.
After his fifteen-minute recon, Dean scrambled into the carwash, the rally point. “What’s it like from your end?” Dean asked Justin.
“Not a single drone,” Justin said. “Did you notice those metal boxes mounted to the top of the tanks—those are the energy weapons I was talking about.”
“Yep.” Dean and Luther had come up with a workaround for that.
Scarlett entered the carwash. “There’s a horde heading this way from the east.” A beleaguered look danced in her eyes. “I don’t think they saw me. But,” she paused, “I spotted cameras mounted to the other side of the wall’s iron support beams. Pointed to watch for activity entering. Not leaving.”
“Good eye. Wasn’t counting on cameras.” They hadn’t come across any before. “The way I see it, our best bet is to bust through there.” Dean pointed to the curve in the border wall. “No one from the busy thoroughfare will spot us bust out. We simply take that side road and merge onto Texas State Line Road.”
“And the tanks?” Scarlett winced.
He turned to Justin. “You’re positive they operate those things remotely?”
“Pretty much.” Justin shrugged.
It wasn’t the definitive answer Dean wanted to hear. “What’s the lag time? Say, from the moment they spot suspicious activity to the time of deployment.” He fiddled with his clean-shaven chin.
Justin grimaced. “So, when a Sensor Operator IDs a breach, they have super-strict protocol to follow. The Remote Pilots only activate the Rayguns when the pit boss orders a strike. Which usually takes a few minutes. No one wants to make a shitty call. And get demoted to Zoat Patrol.”
“That ought to give us a minute or two?” Dean questioned out loud. Ideally, they needed a good four to five minutes to get to the main road, out of range.
“Are we really doing this?” Justin suddenly seemed surprised.
“We don’t have a choice.” The bitter coldness in Scarlett’s voice chilled him to the bone.
“Scarlett, walk with me to the break-out point. I want to see where those cameras are mounted.” Can’t believe I missed them. Their clandestine planning would be in vain if surveillance video picked up a bus spontaneously appearing on the Zhetto side of the border wall. He handed her his Glock.
“Sure, but I can’t get them with a Glock,” she said.
“I’ll get the M4 with the scope.” Justin raced off before anyone could nix the idea.
“It’s a rather brazen plan . . .” Scarlett stared off in the distance, avoiding eye contact.
She wasn’t one to be pessimistic. Nonetheless, Last State had been exceedingly rough on her. She was no longer the naïve woman he had found shivering in the cab of his look-out truck in Vacav
ille. This unforgiving world had hardened her. Furthermore, once they crossed Zoat, odds were they’d never set eyes on Zac again. It must be killing her slowly.
There was no point in handing her a line of BS. “We’ve got a decent shot,” was all he said. Thankfully, Justin darted back with the assault rifle. Now wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart. The last grains of sand seemed to slip through the hourglass image in his mind, warning him to get his friends to New Mexico before the unthinkable caught up with them.
“There’s a horde shambling for the bus,” Justin rasped, out of breath. “Got maybe three minutes.”
Scarlett grabbed the rifle. “I’m not a lost cause yet.”
Dean hoped she was up to the task. They crept to the earmarked section of the border wall. This time he spotted the cameras perched on the support beams.
“By the way, the power’s off.” Dean threw a stick against the fence. “Give me a moment to cut out a swarth for the bus.” He snagged the wire cutters from his tool belt, which he had added to his survivalist ensemble.
Scarlett angled herself, leaning against the fence. She shook her head. And tried again. “I don’t have a clear shot.”
“Holy shit!” Justin’s calling card for trouble jangled Dean’s nerves.
Dean ignored him. “A few snips to go—”
“Guys, guys,” Justin faltered. “There’s another horde doing the hokey pokey straight for us.”
Dean pulled back the flap in the fence he had cut out. “Scarlett, just take care of that camera to the left.”
Scarlett angled herself. Aimed. And fired. The camera exploded into fragments. No time for kudos. Hordes wobbled in from the east, west, and south.
“Folks, that will have to do,” Dean said. They couldn’t get embroiled in a horde attack this close to those tanks.
Scarlett stood there, still glued to the scope. “The other two cameras—”
“See how they’re angled?” Dean pointed out. “With any luck, they won’t capture the bus busting through.” Besides, they were out of time.
“Run!” Justin yelled.
They bolted for the bus. Luther waited outside the door and swung his Glock from side to side at the approaching hordes.
Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home Page 22