Twila ran up to her. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called swaddling. It helps a newborn feel safe. Like in the womb.” Shari had stressed the importance of the age-old practice of swaddling a newborn and had demonstrated the technique on a baby doll. But mainly, Ella hoped it would keep mijo sleeping soundly during their hike to the new safehouse.
“I wanna learn,” Twila insisted.
“I don’t know—you have to do it just right. The arms need to be snug, but the feet need room to move around. Like this.” Ella laid Mateo on top of the folded blanket. She carefully wrapped him into a cute baby burrito.
Scarlett joined them with a bundle of clothes. “These tactical clothes will be a bit big. And will hide your figure.” She held up a pair of forest-green camo pants. “The cargo pockets come in handy too.” Scarlett set the clothes on the bed, including a grungy camouflage cap.
They had talked about disguising themselves as men yesterday. Ella scrunched her nose. At least they’d be comfy, and no one would notice her postpartum belly. She self-consciously tried rubbing away her pot belly. It would go away soon. It had last time.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m wearing them too.” Scarlett’s long black braids swung around her neck with her every move. She tied the braids in a pile and then accented the outfit with a matching cap. “How do I look?” Scarlett attempted a Charlie’s Angels pose with her gun.
“Like a drug lord fashionista.” Ella laughed. She wished she had the patience to let her hair grow. She kept her hair cropped in a practical pixie cut. No muss, no fuss. “Do you really think they’ll find a safehouse today?”
“Of course.” Scarlett smiled. “According to the map we found, urban housing is about four miles east of here.”
OMG, four miles! How could they hike that far with the baby? With roving hordes. She forced herself not to obsess over it. They had made it this far. But she had already lost one baby. And the mirror had been trying to show her—something dark.
“B-e-l-i-e-v-e . . .” a mystical voice sang as fiery-blue letters spun around her head.
Chapter 6
Justin Chen could not stop stressing over Mateo. What if he started balling during their hike to the new safehouse? He slipped the leather satchel’s straps around the back of Ella’s neck. It was sturdier than the knapsack they had been using.
“So much better.” Ella gently placed their son into the satchel on top of a pillow she had cut to size. She covered him with a swatch from the same blanket used to swaddle him. “Don’t worry, my sleeping angel,” she cooed.
“Everyone, all set?” Dean’s tone went somber. “Remember the hand signals we went over in the van.” He demonstrated the basic signals again: Stop, go back, hurry, and danger. “Son, we’ll follow your lead. Luther, why don’t you cover the rear.”
Luther nodded. It was like they were too tense to speak. They gathered at the warehouse’s side entrance. Justin hoped Twila wasn’t in one of her bratty moods. It startled him when she stuck out her tongue at him. On impulse, he asked, “Is it safe to leave?”
Twila looked at Scarlett questionably as if asking if she should answer.
“This is the time to be honest,” Scarlett said.
“I feel lots of sick ones out there. It makes me so sad.” Twila patted her heart. “They’ve been trapped here since the beginning of the evil sickness. Starving to death.”
“Alrighty folks, all the more reason to get this over with. Unless—” Dean turned to Scarlett. “You think we should leave at dawn during their inactive state?”
“No!” Scarlett massaged her forehead. “We can’t stay!”
Okay, that was freaky. Justin cracked open the warehouse’s emergency exit. He wasn’t ready for this. Sure, he could handle a few Zs. Even a regular horde. But walking around the Forbidden Zone, with his son and Ella to protect, terrorized him.
“Guys, don’t fire your weapons. Someone in the Y-zone might report it.” While Zhetto and Tent City did whatever the hell they wanted, Last State strictly prohibited guns in the Zones.
He was answered by a quick round of nods.
“Give me a sec to scope it out,” Justin said, calming his nerves. “I’ll signal if it’s safe.” He wasn’t worried about drones. From what he knew, Last State only monitored the Forbidden Zone’s border wall.
Justin made it to the street and waited for signs of activity while visions of the X-strain Army invaded his mind. The road remained clear. He motioned them on. They joined him in the street, his heart thudding against his chest. They had decided wide-open spaces were safer since they had a baby and child to protect. This way they could see what was coming.
Based on the scuffling and banging he and Luther had heard during their pre-dawn recon excursion, Zs loitered inside the buildings. Twila was probably right. Zs had been trapped there since the early days of the pandemic.
Weird, how Last State had barricaded off the housing areas instead of decontaminating them for its citizens. Working for Last State, Justin knew the chilling truth. They had herded approximately one million sheeple into the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex for optimal surveillance. Cits had unwittingly traded their freedoms for the delusion of safety. Peace of mind was now a far-fetched fantasy since the power-tripping dictatorship kept everyone on edge 24-7 with their 1984 antics.
Anticipation crept in as he approached the first intersection. He jerked at every teensy movement teasing his periphery. Just debris blowing in the wind. How he dreaded intersections. Too much territory to scope out at once. He peeked into an SUV before kneeling beside it. Empty. He checked under the vehicle for Zs. Nothing. He panned the
