“Twila, do you know where Ella and Justin are?” Luther asked.
“Back in the cart,” Scarlett ordered briskly.
Twila climbed inside. “In a field where the big kids play.” She stood in the cart with her palms pressed to her forehead. “The sign says, HOME OF THE TIGERS.”
“The high school is on the east side of the food vendors,” Dean said.
“Yep, I remember it. I’ll catch up with you at the rally point. But”—Luther paused—“if we don’t make it there in the next twenty-four hours—”
“My friend, we’ll wait for you as long as possible.” The compassion in Dean’s voice stung her heart. Their lingering handshake revealed they weren’t so sure they’d see each other again.
Scarlett turned away when a sudden wave of sadness overtook her. Unable to bear saying goodbye, she beckoned Mindy to follow her out the side exit where they waited for Dean.
“Silver Lady—Shari—somebody? Please tell me everything’s going to be all right,” Scarlett beseeched.
The silence screaming through her psyche revealed there were no answers. Humanity’s future no longer existed. The last inscription she had read in the Akashic Records had been to guard the Prima Matra with her life. That was before she knew of the Andara. Now she understood the inscription’s significance.
It was going to be an agonizing hike, not knowing what was happening to her dear friends . . .
Chapter 30
Estella Marie Vasquez-Chen stared blankly through the metal cage as the scenery blurred by. Mateo was safe. That was the only thing that mattered. Her guardian angel had revealed through enrapturing dreams that Mateo was an important part of humanity’s New Eden.
While she joggled around the back of the truck in the putrid cage, Justin darted from side to side, rattling the cage like an ape on peyote. She should try to calm him, but she was enthralled in a sort of peaceful shock now that her part was—finished.
Ella had finally accepted that her fleeting mirror visions weren’t messages from El Diablo. She had assumed so when a vision had revealed her first son’s death last year. Since that fateful day, she rarely checked her appearance, careful not to stare into the mesmerizing depths beyond the glass where misty images sometimes came to life.
After brushing her teeth this morning, she had checked her compact to make sure she had rinsed away the toothpaste gunk that stuck to the corners of her mouth. Without warning, the mirror’s reflection had taken on a life of its own. Revealing a gruesome scene of a loco man with a dog’s face who searched her cart in a field of zombies.
She couldn’t stop the actual event from happening, for baby Miguel had died despite her desperate attempts to save him. According to Shari’s mystery school teachings, one’s fate wasn’t necessarily written in the stars although some events were predestined. So, what if she changed one tiny detail? Like putting Mateo in Mindy’s cart. Would it change Mateo’s fate? If she kept her thoughts well-hidden, no one would suspect it, except maybe Twila.
The cage’s atrocious odor brought her back to their current situation. They must use this cage for Zs. She turned to Justin, tearing her feet from the gooey floor, and finally asked, “Do you know what’s happening?”
Justin plopped down on the milk cart next to her. He nestled against her, his skin hot, his pulse racing. “Mad Dog’s wicked when he’s methed-out. And based on his wild eyes, he’s definitely tweaking on something.”
He caressed her hands before kissing them, stalling, as if avoiding something. Her narrowed eyes told him to stop babying her.
He winced. “Mad Dog’s got this el sicko fetish for Z-fights. The gorier the better.”
Justin was the best Z-deactivator she knew. Besides his agility, he also used his imagination, adapting to the circumstances. “You can do that.” Maybe things weren’t so dire.
“Sure.” He stared off into space. He didn’t sound too convincing. A puzzling frown took over his forehead, the way it did when he fought back tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you put mijo in Mindy’s cart?”
She had hurt his feelings. For her deception to work, he had needed to believe with all his heart. How could she explain the compelling urge for secrecy? “Whether you believe it or not, this psychic stuff—is happening.”
Justin delved deeply into her eyes as if searching for answers. “Ye-ah, I know.”
“All Twila and Scarlett’s cuh-ray-zee talk about disguising our thoughts—” She paused. “It’s actually true. Evil is listening. So, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I wanted to trick them.”
Justin’s eyes lit up in comprehension. He put his arm around her and held her tightly against his heaving chest. “I get it. When I worked at the Think Tank, sometimes I got this icky feeling someone was listening or watching me.” He suddenly shivered. “So, why Mindy’s cart? Scarlett’s an awesome Z-fighter?”
“Mindy has kept her baby safe all this time . . .”
“Stop going all melancholy on me,” Justin scolded. “It freaks me out. And, here’s something you might want to know. I got this mystical vision that Mateo and Starla get married. Someday.”
A tear lingered in the corner of his lovely Asian eyes. Did he think they wouldn’t live to see the wedding?
“I saw—” He wiped the tear from his cheek. “Like, I think I saw our grandchild.”
“Oh, my God! That’s amazing.” She had a sudden flash of insight that Starla and Mateo were Twin Flames just as she and Justin were. Was it cosmic fate, part of their Soul Plan?
They held each other, lost in a timeless embrace. She tried shutting out the outside world as the truck rumbled through throngs of people milling around in hopelessness.
Justin bolted out of the embrace. “There has to be a way out of this.” He
