Only The Dead Don't Die | Book 4 | Finding Home Popovich, A.D. (any book recommendations txt) 📖

Andara or whatever it was, had apparently done something. Justin didn’t bother brushing away the renegade tear escaping down his cheek.

Chapter 17

Luther Jones followed the trampled path through the grassy plains, keeping Zac’s clunker at a steady forty MPH where possible. The grinding and clunking of the suspension warned the CV joints were shot. It was only a matter of time before an axle snapped. Breaking down in the middle of nowhere with hordes and Enforcers on the loose . . . “Don’t even go there,” he mumbled.

His irrational impulse to check out Zac’s lodge for Mindy baffled him. Something Scarlett had once said dug into him like a festering splinter: “Listen to your intense feelings and implausible knowings.” He was starting to understand what she meant. An overpowering vibe had him thinking Mindy played a vital role in what Scarlett and Twila called the Grand Plan to Save Hu-manity.

Still, further back in his mind, a cloud of doubt shrouded his impulsive decision. Aunt Matilda hadn’t mentioned anything about Mindy. Which probably meant the young mother hadn’t made it. It had been more than a week since the horde attack on the lodge. Even if she had survived, she’d be long gone by now.

“Spirit don’t tells me everyting.” Aunt Mattie’s words lingered in his mind.

An outbreak of pinpricks needled his tailbone. Flustered, he tried shaking it off. The unnerving kundalini energy ran in nonstop overdrive. This psychic shit needed an on-off switch. A sudden eerie sensation had him thinking he was about to drive off the face of the earth, the land so flat. That’s when he remembered the ravine was up ahead.

From out of nowhere, a troop of tanks climbed up from the ravine into view. He cranked the wheel hard, maneuvering out of their path with inches to spare. The prickling sensation had been a warning. Determined not to give in to fear, he thought up a line of bullshit about working for the lodge. But the troops headed east toward the inner Zones and didn’t hassle him.

It looked like Justin’s friend DiNozzo had been on the up-and-up. Last State was preparing for a clash: hordes or civil unrest? The last tank roared past fifteen minutes later. His excursion was taking longer than anticipated.

Their chancy Tent City escape plan had him wound up in knots. Reality sank in. What were the odds of his friends crossing Last State’s border? Without fatalities. Especially during a Martial Law scenario that included tanks and X-strains.

The lodge loomed ahead, reminding him of his current dilemma. As he approached, knee-high dirt mounds dotted the grounds like an infestation of giant moles. The Mole People! Scenes from the hokey movie that had scared the shit out of him as a kid taunted him with the real-life horrors of today. For those stinking nimrods were actually tunneling into the inner Zones.

The gray-coated ground was a good sign the HAZMAT Team had mopped up. Relief settled in. Still, he felt naked without his M4 and grenades, his SHTF crutch gave him a sense of invincibility.

Boosting his ragged nerves, he decided to snoop around the detached garage first. He stopped in front of the opened barn-like door and turned on the headlights. No signs of life. Not convinced he was as zombie-proof as his aunt had assured, he dug through his duffle for the flak jacket Zac had given him before the attack on Boom Town.

Armed with only his big-ass wrench, he hollered, “Anyone there” before entering the garage.

No signs of danger. The sweet and sour aroma of old hay infused his nostrils. To the far right, a faded tarp reminded him that Zac stored jerrycans of gasoline on site. He yanked off the tarp. “That’s whut I’m talking about!” A pallet of olive-drab green jerrycans awaited.

He loaded the truck’s camper with the precious fuel, leaving one for Zac on the off chance he returned. Which reminded him, Zac had stashed barter items behind the drywall. “Might find something useful.”

Not wanting to run down the truck’s battery, he switched off the headlights, and began searching for the grease X-marks at the base of the walls with a flashlight.

He kicked at the first X he came to and busted through the drywall. “Yeah, baby!” Was this what he thought it was? He opened the military ammo can to find a 9mm with four loaded mags and two boxes of ammo. “Exactly what I need.” So that’s what his new sixth sense had been telling him. I could get used to this heightened awareness.

Luther couldn’t put it off any longer. He cocked his head, listening. “Whut the—” He swore someone had called out his name in panic. He spun around toward the lodge. The tall ladder rested against the third-floor window, exactly where they had left it during the horde attack. The billowing curtains beckoned.

The ladder seemed like a better option. Better than walking in the front door without a backup and his M4. Hmm. He tucked the 9mm into his flak jacket pocket, grabbing his wrench. “Aunt Mattie, wish me luck.” He exhaled deeply. By the time he made it halfway up the ladder, he could no longer deny a woman’s faint pleas.

Eye level with the window, he scoped out the bedroom. Shattered glass glistened in the streaming sunlight. A large hutch-like cabinet lay on the floor. Dean had probably blocked the door with it. Luther hadn’t realized how close Dean, Justin, Ella, and Twila had been to not making it out of there. If he and Zac had shown up five minutes later . . .

“Oof—” He flinched at the amount of dried blood. Everywhere. The floor, the walls, the furniture. The bloodied sheets along with the mattress had been shredded. Of course, Ella had given birth there. Based on a sudden overpowering vibe, he knew the horde had devoured the afterbirth. The realization sent his