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

Once Justin was behind the wheel, those deranged birds poked at the crackled windshield with broken, bloodied beaks. No way—zombie birds? At least the windshield hadn’t bit the dust. But the buckling shattered glass would cave in on him any second.

Since the bus had been idling, the engine was primed. Unable to see a freaking thing, he floored it. “Shit!” He remembered the multi-car pile-up just ahead. He had studied it from the roof rack before his weird Shangri-La vision.

He brought up a holographic image of the road. And although he didn’t remember, his cool eidetic memory recalled everything. Still, he was driving by brail. He pointed the bus to the clearing beyond the shoulder, sideswiping an eighteen-wheeler. The screaming of metal versus metal overtook the birds’ maddening squawks.

He cranked the wheel to the left to avoid a burnt-out SUV. A few seconds later, he cranked it hard to the right, avoiding another stranded vehicle. Then, he swerved again to miss the next vehicle. He was one second away from totaling the bus. Their only protection. And the Border Wall was coming up. At a loss, he slowed down.

“Son, the frontage road is up ahead to your left,” Dean shouted.

Sure, he saw the turn-off in his mind, but seeing it in real-time and maneuvering the bus was completely different. “I can’t see anything with all these freakin’ birds!”

“Working on it,” Luther thundered. “Now we’re talking!”

“Smoke grenades!” Dean shouted.

“I’ll toss these bad boys to the front of the bus,” Luther yelled.

Would it work?

“Uncle Luther, be very, very careful,” Twila pleaded.

“If you hear me screaming—yank me down,” Luther shouted as he unlatched the emergency hatch.

“You betcha,” Dean assured.

“One, two.” Luther paused as if bracing himself. On three, he popped through the hatch.

The birds’ high-pitched screeches broke Justin’s concentration. It took all his willpower not to huddle into a ball and just scream. Unexpectedly, he lost sight of his eidetic memory. A swirling burst of green descended onto the windshield. The squawking faded off.

He was back in real-time. “I still can’t see shit!” He reached for Ella’s bat by the door. He punched a hole in the spider-veined glass, wide enough to see where he was going. “Hey! The birds are gone!” But no one cheered in celebration.

“Hang a left on Texline. Then, park it,” Dean answered calmly as if they were going to the mall. “We need to recon the best spot to bust through the wall.”

Justin suddenly felt like an absolute imbecile for thinking a place like Shangri-La was within their reach. For even if they escaped the Forbidden Zone, no place was ever going to be safe again. Not with Z-birds squawking the skies . . .

Chapter 24

Dean Wormer hid under a sprawling mimosa tree’s explosion of pink powder-puff blossoms. He studied the Zhetto side of the Forbidden Zone’s northern border wall. Last year’s shriveled-brown seed pods crunched under his jeans when he took a knee for an unobstructed view. It reminded him of the years’ worth of leaves piling up on his cabin’s deck. He liked to think he’d make it back there someday . . .

He spied the army of tanks securing the perimeter a good two hundred yards or so beyond the wall. The gun turrets pointed toward the north, not toward the border wall. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

The ambient babble of traffic wafted across the field during his drone activity surveillance. To get to Tent City, they’d have to cut over to Texas State Line Road, which appeared awfully busy with a slew of older vehicles heading north toward Tent City. Absolutely no traffic heading south.

The plan was straightforward: bust through the border wall and merge into the traffic. Although the psychedelic bus wouldn’t exactly blend in, especially with its shattered windows. He eyed the chain-link border wall. Hmm, no humming buzz. He tossed a handful of seedpods at the electrified fence. No zapping. The power grid must still be down.

After his fifteen-minute recon, Dean scrambled into the carwash, the rally point. “What’s it like from your end?” Dean asked Justin.

“Not a single drone,” Justin said. “Did you notice those metal boxes mounted to the top of the tanks—those are the energy weapons I was talking about.”

“Yep.” Dean and Luther had come up with a workaround for that.

Scarlett entered the carwash. “There’s a horde heading this way from the east.” A beleaguered look danced in her eyes. “I don’t think they saw me. But,” she paused, “I spotted cameras mounted to the other side of the wall’s iron support beams. Pointed to watch for activity entering. Not leaving.”

“Good eye. Wasn’t counting on cameras.” They hadn’t come across any before. “The way I see it, our best bet is to bust through there.” Dean pointed to the curve in the border wall. “No one from the busy thoroughfare will spot us bust out. We simply take that side road and merge onto Texas State Line Road.”

“And the tanks?” Scarlett winced.

He turned to Justin. “You’re positive they operate those things remotely?”

“Pretty much.” Justin shrugged.

It wasn’t the definitive answer Dean wanted to hear. “What’s the lag time? Say, from the moment they spot suspicious activity to the time of deployment.” He fiddled with his clean-shaven chin.

Justin grimaced. “So, when a Sensor Operator IDs a breach, they have super-strict protocol to follow. The Remote Pilots only activate the Rayguns when the pit boss orders a strike. Which usually takes a few minutes. No one wants to make a shitty call. And get demoted to Zoat Patrol.”

“That ought to give us a minute or two?” Dean questioned out loud. Ideally, they needed a good four to five minutes to get to the main road, out of range.

“Are