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.
