The vehicle flashed its lights and tapped the horn playfully. Still, Scarlett fingered the 9mm’s trigger.
The cargo truck with canvas siding pulled up beside them.
“Your Uber’s here!” Justin shouted from the passenger’s window.
“Uncle Luther!” Twila trilled.
Luther jumped out of the truck. “What happened here?” He tiptoed between the dead birds littering the ground. “And what happened to you?” Luther took a step back from Dean as if he were about to turn creeper on him.
“Lord knows?” Dean brushed him off. “Is that Justin and Ella in the front seat?”
Luther let out a wide grin.
Justin and Ella hurried out. “Baby Mateo?” Ella panted as she ran to Mindy.
“He’s fine,” Scarlett said.
“Where’d you get the truck?” Dean asked, rubbing his chest.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” was all Luther said. “And don’t worry, I didn’t have to kill anyone for it. Just sounded awfully convincing.”
Scarlett took in the scene. Moments ago, they had been on the brink of death, now Justin and Ella fawned over Mateo.
“How much petrol does it come with?” Dean asked.
Luther kicked the bloody dead birds from his path. “Enough to get us away from this Voodoo shit.”
“Room for our carts?” Dean asked.
“Minus two. Ella and I lost our stuff,” Justin said.
“We got plenty of room,” Luther said. “I nabbed my cart and duffle on the way.”
Scarlett finally asked, “Ella, what happened—back there?”
Ella shook her head. “Mad Dog . . .”
“Guys, you should have seen Luther,” Justin marveled. “Mad Dog was gonna—”
Ella covered Justin’s mouth. “Shush, we made it. That’s all that matters.” Ella rummaged through her pockets. “This”—she held up a lapis lazuli pendant—“is for you. The, uh, Queen of the Undead wanted to give it back.”
Scarlett stared at the pendant. A shockwave blasted through her. “The pendant Shari gave me—” So the vision of the woman creeper had been real. It reminded Scarlett how close she had been from being the queen herself. Perhaps that had been Zac’s sole purpose for re-entering her life, saving her from the ill-fated marriage.
“Get this,” Justin said uneasily. “Apparently, this Z woman is the reigning Queen of the good Zs.”
Scarlett caught a glimpse of the robed creeper smiling in her inner vision—the same creeper from the tea ceremony, who had evidently claimed Scarlett’s place as the Queen of the Undead. Rightfully so.
“Thank you for sharing the sacred tea . . . that fateful day. I apologize for the king’s dastardly behavior. However, the tea has raised our vibrations. So much so, we are now ashamed of our decaying physical bodies. The messages from the cosmos informed: your clan must continue your fated path as must ours. Therefore, my clan will no longer interfere with your mission. Needless to say, the ones called X-strains will never relinquish their lust to devour every living creature. Until there is not a single heartbeat left on this planet.”
Scarlett could not think of anything to say to the Queen of the Undead. She didn’t understand why they had this cosmic connection in the first place. Was she a traitor for communicating with the undead? Or were they destined to become soul-sisters? Either way, she found the concept rather alarming and enthralling.
“Understanding—” The queen shook her head in a heart-crushing moment as Scarlett struggled to block the creeper’s pain. “I gave up on understanding the day the Super Summer flu claimed my family. Nevertheless, my clan patiently awaits the child healer to release us from our torment—one day.” The image of the queen dissipated.
Dean sulked around the truck, checking the canvas tie-downs. “I’ve had enough mumbo jumbo for one day. Best we get in a few miles before sunset.”
Five minutes later they were on the road with Dean and Luther in the front while the rest of them claimed a spot in the back of the military truck. Scarlett gladly accepted the comforting rhythm of the canvas flapping in the wind, knowing they were safe. At this moment in time.
Which reminded her of the Time Entanglement vision. Although, it had seemed more like a hallucination. It gave her something intriguing to muse over. That, and the perplexing fact that she once again wore Shari’s pendant. Thank you, Shari. Or, should she be thanking the Queen of the Undead?
Chapter 33
Dean Wormer tossed the map onto the dashboard in a bout of frustration. They had driven the commandeered military cargo truck all night and into the dawn without the slightest notion of where they were. He hadn’t spotted a single road sign. As if they had deliberately been removed. He wouldn’t put it past Last State.
With a somber Luther at the wheel, they headed southwest. Dean’s old bones were feeling the long ride. Still, it was better than getting pecked to death. He gingerly patted his bandages. Earlier, Ella had given him gauze pads soaked with Mateo’s bottled Andara-crystal formula. To his astonishment, the annoying pain had miraculously subsided.
Hmm, might be closer than I think. He hadn’t factored in the fact that Last State had extended its borders. He sat there consumed in thought as the shadows beyond the shadows blurred by, reminding him that safety was merely an illusion. All it took was a flat tire or an overheated engine—and a surprise horde or marauder attack could easily bust through the truck’s canvas siding.
On the upside, the vehicle came with several jerrycans of diesel. So instead of toiling over their location, Dean occupied his mind by guesstimating how many miles they could squeak out before they were back on foot.
No one had said a peep regarding the events that had transpired in Tent City. Dean couldn’t handle the silence a moment longer. Abruptly clearing his throat, he asked, “Take it you had an encounter with Mad Dog.” During Dean’s short stint as Boom Town’s sheriff, he’d had the disturbing experience of meeting the egomaniac in the flesh.
“Yup,” Luther answered briskly.
“And . . .” Dean persisted. Luther wasn’t one to natter on about his personal troubles. But sometimes, a fellow needed to talk things out.
“Let’s just say, the world’s a better place now.” Luther kept his eyes on the road, devoid of emotion.
It explained Luther’s reticence. Killing a man in cold blood. Well, it had a way of deadening one’s soul. Dean had done his fair share of killing in gunfights. People with no faces, that was one thing. But putting a face to it, like when he had killed—oh hell, just admit it. Dean had murdered Krasinski for no other reason than a sneaking suspicion he had intended on turning in his friends for the bounty.
Dean had avoided coming to terms with his heinous acts, always priding himself on doing more good than harm, abiding by the rule of law. That was, until the flu outbreak had turned decent folk into murderous thieves. He held his tongue, giving Luther his space as the miles flew by and the gas tank’s needle edged closer to the E.
When the sleepy sun glinted above the horizon, it revealed the dark patches under Luther’s eyes. It was time to pull over whether the truck needed to or not. “Best we give the truck a break,” Dean suggested. Their whereabouts suddenly clicked. “Son of a gun, I know this place.”
A familiar rest stop with a vista view was just ahead. “Pull over at the vista point. Might be a good spot to eat and whatnot.” It was too early for dead-heads.
Luther merely nodded and followed the exit up the buckled pavement to the vista point.
Dean tapped the cab’s rear window to a crowd of sleeping faces. “We’re stopping,” he attempted to shout through the glass.
Scarlett snapped to and reached for her 9mm. She nudged Justin and Mindy while Ella and Twila yawned themselves awake.
“Stay sharp,” Dean said. No doubt a working vehicle in these parts was worth a billion bucks.
Luther took a long whiff out the window before parking dead center in the vista point’s turnout. “Don’t smell
any stinking nimrods.”
Dean resisted the luring appeal of the mesa framed by the mystique mountains. He and his granddaddy used to stop there during their summer road trips delivering horses to the ranches in these parts. They were closer to Albuquerque than he thought. Excitement edged in. He pushed it back and drew his Glock. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy. They were so close the wild strawberries had his mouth watering.
Dean eagerly jumped outside. “Watch yourself!” A familiar gruff voice lingered in the back of his mind.
“Granddaddy?” Dean whispered in his mind. Now he understood what Scarlett and Twila meant about spirit guides. Looks likes his dear ole granddaddy’s spirit had been keeping tabs on him for some time, only he had been too dense to accept it for what it was.
“Dino my boy, you’re on the right track. But you’re cuttin’ it close.” Granddaddy’s voice seemed to echo across the mesa’s vastness and into his heart, prickling the corners of his eyes with phantom tears.
Dean glanced around. “Twila, Scarlett, Mindy—any bad feelings or warnings?”
“Nothing,” Scarlett said faintly.
“Ooh, this place is sooo quiet.” Twila gasped in awe. “I can hear the mountains singing.”
His sentiments exactly. One of the things he missed about New Mexico. Mindy didn’t offer any commentary as usual; she just stood at the edge of the railing, letting the wind whip her golden-wheat locks. Her ethereal glow had him thinking she was a priestess from the mystical land of Avalon. Not one to let his imagination get the best of him, he shook away the preposterous notion.
“Justin, Scarlett, keep us covered while Luther and I fuel up the truck.”
“Dude, there’s all kinds of uber-cool G.I. Joe crap in the back. Like ammo cans and MREs,” Justin chattered on. “Even sleeping bags.”
“I should make breakfast,” Ella said. “I found a knapsack with cans of corned beef hash in the truck.”
“Don’t worry, Twila.” Scarlett answered Twila’s questioning frown. “We have oatmeal.”
“Might as well use up the heavier supplies. We can always strip down the MREs,” Dean said, much to his dismay. He was sick and tired of those blasted sodium-saturated “thingamabobs.”
He fiddled with the gas cap while Luther brought out the jerrycans. “Justin, you mind inventorying our food supplies once we get back on the road. I want to know how many meals we have.”
“Sure.”
“And someone, keep your eyes on the skies for those blackbirds from hell,” Dean managed to keep the quiver out of his voice.
Meanwhile, Dean wondered how they’d haul their supplies since they were down to four carts. Looks like they had enough diesel for another six to eight hours. After that, they’d be on foot the rest of the way. Unfortunately, bicycles were out of the question. Mindy had confided she had grown up in an apartment and had never ridden a bike, which nixed the harness contraption he had mentally designed to pull the carts. No doubt it would take a solid three to four days on foot to get where they were going. And that was if they found bridges. And no trouble.
“Just get there!” The scolding buzzed his brain, bringing him back. That’s when he recognized a dark presence homing in on them.
Mindy came running for the truck and jumped into the back. Scarlett’s stunning aquamarine eyes widened, and Twila’s sudden statue-like state confirmed his suspicion. Looks like it’s MREs after all.
“Luther,” Dean queried, “how’s ’bout you ride shotgun? Time to move on.”
So much for resting the engine. Dean sure hoped the cargo truck was up to it. He certainly wasn’t. For the majestic skyline had turned on them. Something sinister scoured the earth—for them. And By God, Dean would do whatever it took. To protect his friends. And humanity’s last chance.
Chapter 34
Justin Chen jerked from side to side, scanning the crumbling county highway that looked like remnants of an ancient civilization. He could almost hear the dude with the big crazy hair narrating, “Ancient Astronaut theorists say, “Might this be an ancient ruin from our alien past . . .” At least his wonky imagination hadn’t withered away.
A peculiar new energy made him increasingly nervous. Desperation, he decided. They’d been hiking the deserted roads through the barren land of what used to be New Mexico for the past three days, searching for bridges to cross the creeks streaming down the massive mountains adorning the skyline. The last five bridges they had found had been blown-up.
“How we doing?” Dean rasped.
A round of faint “okays” and fakey smiles answered.
“Let’s take a five-minute breather.” Dean laid out the map on top of his tarp-covered cart.
Justin wanted to spout off that a wimpy five-minute break would only make him more tired. But the relief washing over Ella’s flushed face told him to stop whining as she sat heavily on the shoulder’s railing. Ella insisted on toting Mateo in the baby sling under the poncho, keeping him hands-free in case of an attack. She must be super-hot.
To his amazement, they hadn’t seen any Zs or marauders. Although they had come across numerous skeletons. People who had died with no one to bury them. How sad was that? Pangs of guilt haunted him, knowing they should bury these forgotten people. Honestly, they were too exhausted.
He handed Ella his canteen since she saved hers for Mateo’s bottles. “There’s a little left.”
Ella took a sip. “Mijo’s not suffering from the heat, thanks to the tea.” She went back to humming and rocking him.
“You’re the best mom ever.” He kissed her sweaty forehead. She was overheating, close to the danger zone.
Everyone seemed lost in their own funk, too tired, too hot, and too depressed to talk. Duh! Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? He dug through his pack, hoping he hadn’t tossed it. There it was, wrapped in a T-shirt. “Yowza!” He held up the can of compressed air triumphantly.
Ella frowned with obvious irritation, not in the mood for his humor. Or anything.
“Guys, watch this.” Justin walked a few feet away. He turned the can of air upside down and sprayed his steel canteen until it the metal iced over.
“Who wants a drink of cold water!” Suddenly Justin had everyone’s attention.
Ella gave him a quizzical look. “Really?” She grabbed it.
“Oh my God! It’s icy cold.” She took another drink. “How’d you know?”
“It’s a computer geek hack. You just have to hold the can upside down for the gas to chill it.” Justin had snagged it during one of his looting runs. “Next.”
Mindy handed him a canteen without hesitation.
“Me too!” Twila trilled.
“Canned air dusters. Never would have thought of it,” Dean said. “Isn’t the gas toxic?”
“Ye-ah, difluoroethane’s toxic. But, I’m pretty sure the steel canteen will protect the water.” He shook Mindy’s canteen. Hardly anything left. The same with Twila’s and Scarlett’s. “Actually, since there’s not much water left, and there’s not enough in the can to ice everyone’s canteen—you guys mind sharing?”
Luther held out his canteen. “I’m up for that.”
Dean didn’t argue.
Justin carefully poured what little was left from everyone’s canteens into his like it was nitroglycerin, not spilling a single drop. Then, he stood away from them and frosted the canteen.
He passed around the canteen.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Scarlett exclaimed. “Twila, don’t drink too much.”
Even Mindy thanked him sheepishly.
“Ahh,” Luther let out after taking a gulp.
“That definitely hits the spot!” When Dean folded the map, everyone automatically got to their feet. It was time to continue their search for never-never land . . .
The bumbity-bumpity-bump of the clanging carts over the cracked pavement clamored above his thoughts. Where in the heck was Dean taking them? They had passed plenty of motels they could have claimed as their new safehouse. Bu
t, no. Dean insisted on this one unspoken place. According to Scarlett, the Ancient Ones surveilled their thoughts like some cosmic voyeur from another dimension.
Twila continually bugged him to stop thinking about their surroundings. The only way he could do that was to make his mind go completely blank. That freaked him out even more. Still, he constantly struggled for that elusive state of nothingness by visualizing he was an insignificant tumbleweed rambling the deserted-dusty roads.
An eerie electric-like tension seemed to push them on. And he knew what it was. The blackbirds. The Imax screen in his mind glowed with red eyes swirling in an oily-black ocean—searching for them.
Dean stopped to kick over a fallen road sign caked with dirt. Everyone stopped and waited. Dean went OCD when it came to road signs and maps.
Luther helped Dean scrape off the dirt. “One mile to Coyote Creek Cafe,” Luther grunted with a raw throat.
“Well, all be darned! Coyote Creek. That’s the bridge we’re looking for.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “If it’s intact, we’ve got it made.” But his voice was haggard. The old guy was close to his breaking point. They all were.
Ella shuffled through Mindy’s cart. “Sorry, I need to change mijo’s diaper.”
Too much info. Justin detested anything to do with baby diapers and baby puke. Far worse, they only had the cloth diapers Scarlett had given them. And that meant lugging dirty diapers around until they found a water source. Dis-gust-ing.
“Dean, I can jog to the bridge and scope it out. While you guys take care of—stuff,” Justin insinuated. He didn’t care how tired he was; he’d do anything to shirk out of doo-doo diaper duty.
“What do you think, Scarlett?” Dean asked.
Scarlett pressed her fingers to her forehead. “My ears are humming. The energy just shifted. I can’t make it out.” She turned to Twila, who now walked with them since they were down to two freaking carts.
When Twila’s head jerked up at the sky, all eyes followed. “My ears hum, too. I don’t know what it means.” She plopped down into the middle of the buckled road.
Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home Page 31