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

“Behind you!” Scarlett warned.

Luther roared out the window, “Bro, you done gone and lost your mind?”

Dean sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for the air brakes to charge. “Justin!”

Justin jumped into the doorway. Dean slammed the jack-knife door shut inches before the horde pressed their slimy faces against the glass. The pounding began. The air brake’s alarm went off.

“Technically, it should idle for a few minutes—” Dean started.

“Screw that!” Justin bellowed.

Scarlett landed on the booty pile when Dean hit the accelerator.

Meanwhile, Luther’s robust laughter took over. “I’ve seen some crazy shit. But, risking your life for—poopy pants. Bro, you’ve got issues.”

“Moi?” Justin shrugged it off.

Ella and Scarlett took one look at each other and went into hysterical laughter. Happy endings were hard to find these days.

Chapter 22

Estella Marie Vasquez-Chen perused the pamphlet included in the Prepper Jack’s Tex-Mex bucket while a tray of enchiladas rojas de pollo simmered in the cute compact oven. The emergency food kit included everything she had needed: dehydrated chicken strips, pinto beans, red sauce, Spanish rice, cheese sauce, salsa, even a premixed package to make tortillas.

The enchiladas’ aroma brought back memories of helping Mama in the kitchen of the family restaurant, Los Lunas. Mama, Papa, we’re going to make it. I just know it. Mijo’s well again. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped her. Were they watching over her like angels? Sometimes she pretended they did. She knew it was childish. But indulging in happy daydreams helped her through these dark times.

She rummaged through the kitchenette’s cupboards, finding moldy spices, sugar, popcorn—canola oil! She sniffed the half-full bottle. A little stale, but it would do. She’d fry the remaining tortillas into chips. She might as well make everything. It wasn’t like they could carry all the dehydrated food buckets with them across the border.

Besides, she needed a distraction. Driving through the towns brought haunting memories of the pandemic’s early days. All those abandoned cars in the streets. Had these people been trying to get to loved ones or the FEMA Camps the government had bombed? What had been their last thoughts as human beings? What plagued her even more—did they remember their human lives? What if they were stuck in a perpetual nightmare waiting to wake up? She shook away her disparaging thoughts.

“They remember. Everything!” Twila sat up on the lower bunk.

“What?” It startled her when Twila tuned into her thoughts.

“They are so sad. Last State just left them here,” Twila huffed. “No one wants to help them. They should call this the Forgotten Zone.”

Twila pranced down the bus’s narrow center walkway, modeling another one of her new outfits. “Ella, I want to ask you something very, very important.” Twila quickly looked down at her new sneakers and tried standing on her tiptoes. “Are you still mad at me—for you know?”

Taking Mateo’s tea could have been fatal. Part of her was still angry. But, Twila was only eight. And Mateo had recovered, thanks to Luther. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again!” The words came out sterner than she intended. “Without permission,” Ella added sweetly. It wasn’t her place to scold Twila.

“I promise. I think that’s why Luther gets to be the Andara’s guardian. He doesn’t make bad decisions ’cause he loves us all the same amount. No matter what we do.” Twila kept her head down, still admiring her new shoes. “Uh, do you still love me?”

“Can’t you tell?” Ella’s tone turned testy.

Twila stared blankly at her. “Your heart chakra spins with pretty pinks and greens. But you can’t hide your anger. I see the murky grays swirling around.”

It was time to let go of her anger. Ella exhaled deeply, releasing her resentment, something she had learned from Shari’s teachings. Finally, a peaceful wave of energy replaced her anger.

“Silly, of course, I love you. Sometimes it takes adults a while to let go of our anger.” Who was she kidding? She was barely an adult herself. Papa had thrived on anger, constantly pissed at politics, his boss, the economy, always something. Her mother had been the exact opposite. She should strive to be like her.

Ella had another pet peeve. Twila constantly eavesdropped on her thoughts no matter how many times Scarlett reprimanded her. Probably means I need to work harder on my mental shielding. Besides, she had to learn the Merkaba technique so she could teach Mateo when he was old enough.

“I can’t help it.” Twila shrugged. “But Mateo already knows how to use the lightbody shield.” See, the Starseeds have the Merkaba trick woven into their DNA. So, they just do it. Like breathing. The Lightworkers aren’t so good at it.”

Ella offered a quick smile. Frustrated that she wasn’t gifted enough to create an effective shield, Ella imagined an impenetrable protective bubble of light spinning around her lightbody, concentrating so hard her brain hurt.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Twila chided. “Remember what Shari said? The Prana already flows into the top of your head. So, use the lifeforce energy, not your brain’s.” Twila gave her a goofy grimace.

Ella sighed. “You’re right.” Sometimes she thought she had to use brainpower. She visualized the sparkly prana lights flowing into the top of her head and then flowing through her chakras.

“Like that.” Twila nodded. “Now, visualize a 3D triangle with the point to the sky and another triangle pointed to the ground.”

Twila made it sound so easy. Ella kept trying to envision the tetrahedron, the Star of David. It was too difficult to picture in her mind. But visualizing two separate triangles made it way easier.

“Okay, now, make the top triangle—the guy energy—spin from left to right. And make the bottom one—the girl energy—spin right to left.”

Ella focused on spinning the tetrahedrons in opposite directions.

“Ooh, very good.