“In a cage,” the older man added.
“Enforcers?” Luther worried. Had they ID’d Justin with that facial recognition sci-fi shit he ranted about?
The men reached for their wheelbarrow handles. “No, that gangsta, Mad Dog, the one running the tunnel sham, apparently had a score to settle,” the older man said.
“And Mad Dog was hella pissed,” the younger man intoned.
Luther’s lunch suddenly went rancid. “Where to?” he yelled to their backsides when the men took off, each manning a handle to the wheelbarrow.
Two military Humvees and a camouflage truck patrolling the free side of Zoat drove into view. Luther hit the dirt and waited for a break in the action. Several men in fatigues jumped out the back of the truck and unloaded a crate. They appeared to be installing something along Zoat’s outer perimeter. Prepping for the shutdown, he presumed.
An explosion rocked the ground. Several meters down, a cloud of dirt billowed out, swallowing Zoat. The Enforcers took off northbound and fired at a group of people who must have used a different tunnel. Luther wiped his hand down over his face and spat out the dust he had inhaled. “Don’t tell me those mofos are installing landmines?”
The wheelbarrow guys were long gone. He took the opportunity to gain yardage and bolted for the tunnel. In his playbook of life, he still owed the kooky kid. Justin and his crazy-ass phone call had invited him to Vacaville during the beginning of the pandemic. Luther wouldn’t have lasted long on his own. A man had to sleep sometime. Over time, he had come to think of his newfound friends as family.
He made it to the mouth of the tunnel, surprising the tunnel guard taking a piss in a bucket. The gangly man pointed an automatic weapon at him, letting his junk hang out.
Luther raised his hands. “Bro, you wouldn’t shoot a brother? Go on, finish yo bidness.” Luther gave his best stank face before shielding his eyes in feigned embarrassment.
“Hands where I can see them!” The homie tunnel guard fumbled about, trying to zip his pants with one hand. “Get outta here. Before I have to shoot yo sorry black ass!”
“Not without my friends. They were supposed to be next.” Luther went into an exaggerated neckroll. “I demand to speak to the manager,” he ranted, disgusted at himself for playing the “Karen” card. Would it work?
The tunnel guard rubbed his ear as if something was wrong with his hearing. “Huh?”
“I demand a refund!” Luther brazenly shouted with the barrel inches from his face. He figured he had to come off like a nutcase in order to get back into Tent City. “Don’t make me give you a one-star rating.”
“Now I’ve heard it all.” The guard flashed him an exasperated look. “Neo, you there?”
“What you want?” the radio answered.
“Got a—customer service issue. This homey came back through the tunnel. Says his friends were next. You know anything about that?”
Laughter took over. “If he’s referring to the geeky Asian and his bae. Um, yeah, tell him they’re a lost cause. Mad Dog’s settling a personal vendetta. Apparently, the geek used to be one of the gang.”
“Then I want an f’n refund!” Luther seethed through clenched teeth. Damn, he was crushing the entitled Karen act.
“Um, says he wants a—refund?” the guard’s voice went soprano.
The man on the other end of the radio blared back, “This ain’t the frickin’ Piggly Wiggly.”
Luther’s glare hardened.
Curiosity must have intervened. “Where’s Mad Dog anyhow?” the tunnel guard inquired.
“At the high school. Zombie games. The geek and his bae ain’t got a chance in Hell.”
On that note, Luther plowed past the guard. “Bro, tell them not to shoot me at the other end.”
“Neo, just sent the unhappy customer through,” the tunnel guard said, covering his ass.
Luther overhead Neo say, “Good call. Mad Dog can handle his own shit.”
Not wanting to run out the clock, Luther hauled ass through the tunnel’s shrinking walls and kept his eyes front and center. I’m good. If I don’t look at the walls.
When he reached the Tent City side of the tunnel, the guard, dressed like a Metallica groupie, hollered, “Halt!”
“Neo sent me through,” Luther bullied, towering over the man.
“We heard all about it,” the tunnel guard snarked. “Go on.”
“What’s the fastest way to the high school?”
“Make a right at the end of Zhetto Street. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, bro.” Luther darted down an alley to bypass the mob of people running everywhere. The thundering of jets raged at his jagged nerves when they buzzed over.
A cacophony of explosions took over. “Good God Almighty!” Last State’s bombing its own people? It reminded him of that tragic day he had gone to Levi’s Stadium to meet up with his mama and little sister, LaTasha. During the pandemic’s early days, the U.S. military had lured the Infecteds to FEMA stations with the promise of a cure. Instead, those in charge had incinerated them in a desperate attempt to contain the virus.
He didn’t have time to think about that. He had to get to Ella and Justin. Sweet Jesus, please don’t let them do despicable things to Ella. She was too innocent. She don’t deserve to be treated like that. No woman deserved to be treated like that.
Luther made it to Zhetto Street and joined the thinning crowd. He made a run for the high school just as a panicked mob reached the school’s parking lot. He weaved in and out the gaps, jumped over discarded items, and pushed and shoved and squeezed his way through. Determined. The Home of the Tiger’s scoreboard caught his attention.
He scrambled for the ballfield. Another explosion sent him kissing the ground. A barrage of
