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

by Popovich, A. D.

  “You’re the glue holding the group together—through the storm,” an unknown voice sang in his ears.

  That ring’s true, he admitted to himself. His rational brain ran amok as he tried making sense of the events that had transpired since the undeadly flu outbreak. As if my friends and I are meant to be here. At this particular juncture. Kismet.

  It seemed as good of a time as any to pick Zac’s brain. After all, the fellow seemed to be in tight with the Elites. “Say . . .” Dean hesitated, wondering how to put it into words. “Scarlett mentioned you’re in the know, ’bout certain things.” It wasn’t like Dean to hem and haw. Fact was, all this metaphysical mumbo jumbo was beyond his comprehension. “Tell me, how’d the de-evolution of mankind go off the rails so dern fast?”

  Zac nodded ever so slightly as if contemplating what to say. Finally, he spoke. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Hell, I’m ready to believe just ’bout anything.” Dean glanced back at curious eyes. They too appeared anxious for some semblance of reasoning as to why the world had gone batshit crazy from a minuscule virus.

  “Once upon a time, on a dark stormy night, in a top-secret lab, there was this startup biotech-pharmaceutical company . . .” Zac began. “They concocted a get-rich-quick scheme. That backfired. Bigtime! See, they infected us with their designer-flu virus via chemtrails, masquerading as ordinary contrails laced with nanobots of the virus.

  “Naw,” Dean uttered in disbelief. He’d already heard that conspiracy theory. From out of the blue, Operation Sea Spray suddenly sprang to mind. Back during his Chico State days, he and his colleagues used to pontificate over the rumors that the U.S. military had on occasion doused its citizens with nonlethal substances in order to test the efficacy of biowarfare terrorism. Interesting. Perhaps, Zac’s explanation wasn’t so farfetched.

  “For real!” Justin cut in. “I hacked tons of super-classified intel back at the Think Tank. These microscopic nanobots actually exist. Seriously, like a hundred thousand fit in a syringe.”

  Zac nodded knowingly. “I often refer to the plandemic as the Nano Com-trail flu.”

  “Why in God’s name would—” Dean stopped himself. No use going ballistic at this point.

  “The pre-made vaccine sat in cold-storage warehouses around the world”—Zac’s Adam’s apple bobbled—“available for a hefty price.”

  “Dude, that’s sick,” Justin sputtered in the background.

  “That’s why the vaccine was so quick to emerge,” Luther grumbled from behind. “Usually it takes a while.”

  “That doesn’t explain people reanimating into cannibals,” Dean retorted.

  Zac whipped the reins. “The virus did what viruses do best. Perpetuated its livelihood. It mutated just enough to deem the vaccine worthless.”

  Dean turned around to catch his friends’ expressions. Scarlett nodded knowingly. Mindy snapped out of her meditation, and Ella gaped in horrid recognition.

  Zac continued in narration mode. “The plot thickens. The Global Elites decided it was the perfect time to launch their New World Dis-order agenda. Taking over the world. To achieve that, the Fiberati needed to manipulate the population. As in depopulation!”

  “Naw?” Dean was aghast.

  “The Powers That Be wanted five hundred million in their One World Government,” Zac explained with somber calmness. “A population small enough to control yet large enough to serve the Elites’ decadent lifestyles.”

  Scarlett cleared her throat gently. “That’s just the surface layer. The plot stems from the cosmos. According to the Silver Lady, ‘the Ancient Bloodlines man-ipulated Hu-manity’s overpopulation by exposing Earth’s children to an engineered nanobot pathogen intended to downgrade Hu-mans’ DNA, thereby quickly creating a slave race.’ Since their former 5G subliminal programming was taking too long.”

  “Transhumanism.” Twila’s monotone voice broke into the conversation. “The Global Elites are the Ancient Ones’ worker bees serving to destroy hu-manity by corrupting our DNA sequencing with the introduction of nanos into the human body. Once altered by these bots—we are no longer human.”

  Ella let out a whimper. What about our babies?”

  “Don’t worry,” Scarlett interjected. “The Silver Lady assured the Starseeds, Lightworkers, and LifeGivers are safeguarded from DNA manipulation and corruption. I suppose that’s another one of our metaphysical gifts.”

  “Talk about an info dump . . .” Justin let out a long sigh.

  “Damn,” Zac swore through gritted teeth. “I knew there was more to it.”

  Dean tried assimilating it all. “That’s enough to make a fella’s head spin. I take it other countries are involved in this wretched plot as well,” he pressed on, not sure he was ready for the diabolical truth.

  “You catch on quick,” Zac said. “Apparently, these Elites plan to hit the reset button on global power. Think of it as a game of Risk—”

  “Wait, dude, how can you possibly know all this?” Justin grilled as if Zac were lying.

  Zac’s jaw clenched harder. “During my stint as a commodities broker, I made a lot of people rich and the rich, richer. I partied with these prima donnas. After copious amounts of alcohol and various other party favors, they tend to talk.”

  A severe spasm—the kind that twisted his intestines overtook Dean. And then—slam! The wagon jolted to a stop. A slew of panicky curses replaced the cloppity-clops. They lost a wheel. Zac shook his head so hard Dean thought the fellow’s neck might snap off.

  Luther jumped out of the wagon first. “I brought a jack and a spare wheel.”

  They could always count on good ol’ Luther for saving the day. Dean shuffled out the wagon seat a good thirty seconds after Zac. His old bones couldn’t take much more of this nomadic lifestyle.

  Zac examined the spare wheel, cussing up a storm. “The hub’s too damn small.”

  “Can’t you do something?” Justin’s high-pitched plea resonated with Dean’s fast-beating heart.

  Dean caught Scarlett and Zac’s apprehension. If any two deserved to be together, it was those two lovebirds. He recognized that same intense bonding between Ella and Justin. There must be something to that Twin Flame nonsense Ella raved about, after all. Mary must have been his. God bless her soul. She had been spared the insanity.

  “We’ll finagle it,” Dean insisted. He snatched his trench knife. “Might be able to whittle down the hub enough for a tight fit.” From what he could tell, the wheel’s wooded and metal center had deteriorated somewhat.

  “Go for it,” Zac said. “We’ll set up the scissor jack.”

  The gals kept their eyes peeled on the horizon while the men worked on the wagon. Dean whittled away, carving out the inner workings of the hub.

  A good ten minutes later, Zac announced, “The jack’s in place, but it’s a piece of shit. We’ll have to be careful.”

  Dean looked down at the pile of wood shavings. “Let’s try it out for size.” He rolled the old wooden wheel to the wagon. “Say, Zac—”

  Twila screamed.

  Dean dropped the wheel.

  Scarlett ran to Twila. “What is it?” she asked in a haunting whisper they all overheard.

  “X-strains!” Twila’s glazed-over eyes stared to the south. “They found us.”

  Zac threw the lug wrench to the ground with a vengeance.

  Dean grabbed the wheel, rolling it to the jack, tenacity his strong suit.

  “They want to eat the babies!” Twila blubbered away. “The soldiers want to sell them to a scary hospital.” She covered her eyes and flopped dramatically onto the ground.

  Dean scratched his bristly chin. There had to be away out of this mess. He surveyed the mountain slope just ahead. Five miles to the base of the mountain and another twenty or so to the ranch. By God, we are so close! He wasn’t calling it quits without a humdinger of a fight.

  “Scarlett, any idea how close the horde is?” Dean pressed.

  Scarlett cocked he
r head. “Too close.”

  Zac was already unhitching the horses.

  “Alrighty then,” Dean intoned. “Grab your packs. We’re hiking up the mountain. We’re bound to find a vacation cabin to hole up in once we get to the tree line.”

  Zac snagged the saddles from the wagon. “To speed things up, Dean and Twila, ride the stallion. Ella, Mindy, and the babies can ride the packhorse.”

  “Naw, I can walk,” Dean protested. He had worked out the kinks in his ankle.

  “Dude, just do it. You’ll slow us down,” Justin blurted. “The rest of us can—run.”

  “X-strains. Need I say more?” Zac responded curtly.

  “Point taken,” Dean assented, tired of being the old fogey everyone had to coddle.

  “I can’t ride,” a tiny voice called out.

  They all turned to Mindy.

  “It’s so easy,” Ella chirruped. “Sit in front of me. I know how to drive.” What a brave face Ella wore.

  Zac wasn’t taking no for an answer. He helped the gals onto the saddled packhorse. Dean strapped on his smaller pack before heaving himself into the leather-worn saddle. Luther slung Twila into the saddle in front of him.

  “Folks,” Dean chimed in, mustering courage, “remember, head straight up that mountain. And don’t stop!”

  Zac squinted into the sun before closing his eyes. “Get to the forest. The path to safety suddenly stops at what looks like a creek in the forest. Find that creek.”

  “The path is hidden just beyond my periphery. But, I know that’s where we need to go,” Scarlett confirmed. Evidently, Zac and Scarlett were on the same wavelength.

  That vexing hourglass image popped back into Dean’s head and seemingly shrink-wrapped him into asphyxiation. “Let’s get going.”

  Zac and Scarlett jogged for the base of the mountain, followed by Justin, followed by the packhorse, followed by Onyx, with Luther on their six.

  As they approached the treelined base of the mountain, Dean found himself fading in-and-out of a sort of praying-meditational state.

  Luther was suddenly jogging beside him. “I smell those stinking nimrods.”

  That wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear. “We’ll be in the trees in five minutes.”

  “I’ll warn the others.” Dean leaned in. “Hold on, Twila.” He squeezed the stallion’s flanks with his calves. “Yee-ha!”

  “I’ll stay with Ella and Mindy as long as I can keep up,” Luther panted.

  Onyx galloped off. For a moment, Dean thought he might take a spill. He hung on. To his relief, the stallion automatically stopped when reaching Zac.

  “Problem?” Zac asked.

  “The horde—” Dean started.

  “Holy shit,” Justin bellowed with the Bushnells glued to his forehead. A foreboding dust cloud billowed from the south.

  “We got five—maybe ten minutes,” Zac said, lost in Scarlett’s eyes.

  “Dean”—Scarlett’s tone went flat—“get Twila and the girls to safety. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

  “Now hold on just a minute.” This was no time for martyrs. “There’s got to be a cabin we can hole up in.” Of course, X-strains were relentless. One way or the other, they would run out of food or those bastards would find a way in.

  A deep whirring pounded the sky.

  “W-T-F!” They followed Justin’s jaw-dropping gape. “Helicopters!”

  Zac gently stroked the nervous stallion. “Did I mention, I’m a wanted man—”

  “Hey, I’m the official dissident,” Justin reminded.

  “Hell’s bells!” Feel like I’m riding with the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang. Onyx bucked.

  “No! The bad men want the babies!” Twila lashed out.

  “Dean!” Scarlett yelled. “Go!”

  The stallion bucked. “Whoa! Think it’s time we disappear into the woods.” Dean took off, not sure where the creek was.

  “Don’t worry, Grandpa. Onyx knows the way.”

  The helicopters’ thuds throbbed his eardrums. Louder and louder. Artillery shells added to the cacophony. Dean found it downright impossible to slow down the stallion. He hazarded a look over his shoulder as the horde emerged from the dust cloud and fanned out into groups. More like troops, he thought. As the horde gained on his friends on foot, the helicopter fired into the horde. At least, they weren’t aiming at his friends. Just yet. Probably didn’t want to risk hitting the mothers and their babies.

  “Faster, Onyx!” Twila shouted while Dean hugged the stallion tighter with his granddaughter snuggly between his arms.

  They made it into the forest, galloping far too fast for the terrain. “For Christ’s sake, tell your magical horse to slow down!” Dean demanded.

  “Onyx knows what he’s doing,” Twila lipped back.

  Certainly, hope he does. Dean couldn’t look back; he was too busy ducking under tree limbs. The heavy artillery stopped. Sporadic gunfire took over. Which told him, the helicopters had neutralized the horde and were picking off the stragglers. Or his friends.

  They came to a clear-cut area. Except for a barren five-foot tree with, of all things, ornaments hanging down. “What the devil?” Dean gasped.

  Onyx stopped next to the odd-looking tree. “We made it!” Twila elated.

  The thud of horse hooves approached. Ella and Mindy trotted into the clearing. He waved them on. That’s when Dean realized they must have gone completely off course, for there was no sign of the creek.

  “Grandpa, this is where we are supposed to be. The creek was a trick to fool the X-strains.”

  He never knew what was going on inside little Twila’s head. He had more faith in Zac’s judgement. “We need to keep moving.” Surely, they’d come across the creek. “Giddy-up!” The stallion refused to budge.

  A rash of automatic gunfire peppered the forest.

  “O-M-G! Do you think they’re okay?” Ella cried out.

  At the rustling behind him, Dean reached for the 9mm Zac had lent him. Twila slid down the stallion. He certainly didn’t have the inclination to deal with an unruly child. Not with God knows what approaching.

  Twila gawked at the pathetic tree. “Ooh, look at these pretty watches.”

  “Huh.” Watches? On a tree?

  “Young lady, get over here,” Dean declared to no avail. Reluctantly, he dismounted. The gunfire had stopped. And he wasn’t too sure it was a good sign.

  “Ella, make sure Twila stays put. I’ll see if I can spot the rest of the gang.” Although it was pointless. What I really need to find is that blasted creek!

  Not wanting to give away their position, he crept from tree to tree. He finally found an unobstructive view down the mountain and focused in on the three helicopters that had landed at the base. Men in desert fatigues swarmed the area. A series of hand motions told him they were heading up the mountain.

  Dean jogged back, despite his aching joints. He should have asked Twila to send him a healing blast. A snap. The snap of a tree limb. He froze. Another snap. He drew the 9mm. He turned around to find himself face-to-face with a god-ugly dead-head.

  He did not hesitate. He let off two rounds into its skull when the thing leaped into the air for him. Dean ducked. It crashed inches away. Another rustled in the underbrush. “Hell’s bells!” He swiveled in time, firing into its skull. Two of those suckers most likely meant there was a horde. He had to get back to the girls. The rest of the gang were on their own, coldblooded as it was to think that way.

  And then the forest spun. The trees transformed into elongated monsters, taunting him. Grotesque laughter took over the forest.

  “Grandpa . . .” Little Twila’s plea faded into the darkness closing in on him as the strands of death slithered around him like an eerie animated cluster of tree roots dead-set on sucking away every molecule of air from his deflating lungs.

  Chapter 42

  Justin Chen belly-crawled through the thick underbrush as gunfire erupted through the forest. After the helicopters had landed, dispersing the hor
de, he had stayed behind to provide cover for Ella, Mindy, Twila, and Dean. But when the X-strains had charged the mountainside, he, Zac, Scarlett, and Luther had run for their lives.

  Justin finally found a vantage point providing a clear view below. But he didn’t see his friends. He spied the soldiers methodically securing the area. They definitely weren’t Enforcers. These dudes had too much tactical shit. He had heard of Last State’s Elite Military. Normally they secured Last State’s beaches from America’s old enemies who constantly tested Last State’s defenses.

  “Holy shit!” The military team fanned out and started flanking the mountainside. He and his friends didn’t have a freaking chance. He leaned against a tree, gulped down some courage, and sprinted up the mountain from tree to tree. He had to find Ella and Mateo.

  Where’s the freakin’ creek? Everything had gone so wrong, so fast. He continued tree-hopping up the mountain, stopping to watch for movement every few minutes.

  A horrific stench drifted in the breeze. Slowly, he peered around the tree. Easy-peasy, just a stray. It spun in his direction like a demonized-Z, rabidly sniffing at the air. More of its horde scoured the area, obviously on someone’s trail. Their sniffing rampage curdled his stomach. He couldn’t neutralize that many X-strains in such close proximity.

  You don’t see me, Justin chanted to himself as if he had hypnotic powers. Through his limited view between the trees, he waited for the mini-horde to make up its mind. The lead Z snorted and raised its bony hand. They trooped up the mountain about a hundred yards from him. Way too close.

  Once the mini-horde marched out of sight, he zoomed in below. The soldiers had made good time. But what Justin lacked in military training, he made up with agility and speed—and his desire to save Ella.

  He bolted diagonally up the mountain. Something big blurred past the trees ahead. Big Foot? That’s Luther! “Hey,” he whisper-shouted. Luther disappeared deeper into the forest. He must be following the creek.