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

“We don’t have a choice.” The bitter coldness in Scarlett’s voice chilled him to the bone.

“Scarlett, walk with me to the break-out point. I want to see where those cameras are mounted.” Can’t believe I missed them. Their clandestine planning would be in vain if surveillance video picked up a bus spontaneously appearing on the Zhetto side of the border wall. He handed her his Glock.

“Sure, but I can’t get them with a Glock,” she said.

“I’ll get the M4 with the scope.” Justin raced off before anyone could nix the idea.

“It’s a rather brazen plan . . .” Scarlett stared off in the distance, avoiding eye contact.

She wasn’t one to be pessimistic. Nonetheless, Last State had been exceedingly rough on her. She was no longer the naïve woman he had found shivering in the cab of his look-out truck in Vacaville. This unforgiving world had hardened her. Furthermore, once they crossed Zoat, odds were they’d never set eyes on Zac again. It must be killing her slowly.

There was no point in handing her a line of BS. “We’ve got a decent shot,” was all he said. Thankfully, Justin darted back with the assault rifle. Now wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart. The last grains of sand seemed to slip through the hourglass image in his mind, warning him to get his friends to New Mexico before the unthinkable caught up with them.

“There’s a horde shambling for the bus,” Justin rasped, out of breath. “Got maybe three minutes.”

Scarlett grabbed the rifle. “I’m not a lost cause yet.”

Dean hoped she was up to the task. They crept to the earmarked section of the border wall. This time he spotted the cameras perched on the support beams.

“By the way, the power’s off.” Dean threw a stick against the fence. “Give me a moment to cut out a swarth for the bus.” He snagged the wire cutters from his tool belt, which he had added to his survivalist ensemble.

Scarlett angled herself, leaning against the fence. She shook her head. And tried again. “I don’t have a clear shot.”

“Holy shit!” Justin’s calling card for trouble jangled Dean’s nerves.

Dean ignored him. “A few snips to go—”

“Guys, guys,” Justin faltered. “There’s another horde doing the hokey pokey straight for us.”

Dean pulled back the flap in the fence he had cut out. “Scarlett, just take care of that camera to the left.”

Scarlett angled herself. Aimed. And fired. The camera exploded into fragments. No time for kudos. Hordes wobbled in from the east, west, and south.

“Folks, that will have to do,” Dean said. They couldn’t get embroiled in a horde attack this close to those tanks.

Scarlett stood there, still glued to the scope. “The other two cameras—”

“See how they’re angled?” Dean pointed out. “With any luck, they won’t capture the bus busting through.” Besides, they were out of time.

“Run!” Justin yelled.

They bolted for the bus. Luther waited outside the door and swung his Glock from side to side at the approaching hordes.

Luther hopped on right behind them. “I kept the engine primed.”

Dean bustled into the cockpit’s seat. The backup warning alarm shrieked as he backed as far as he dared. He needed a good running start. “Everyone, hug the floor!”

He revved the engine like Evel Knievel on one of the daredevil’s preposterous stunts. He punched it, ramming the bus through the section he had cut out, knowing the bulldozer scoop would take the brunt of it.

The cacophonous crash shrilled through him, most likely alerting every dead-head west of the Pecos. Unfortunately, hundreds of dead-heads would escape. Perhaps the authorities would have their hands tied with that.

Dean caught a glimpse through the door’s cracked window as the tank’s turret swiveled, sending his skin crawling. “Son of a bitch!” He throttled it. “Stay down!” He raced for Texas State Line Road, squeezing every muscle in his body in dreaded anticipation. What if the metal door rigged to the back didn’t deflect the microwave-like blast . . .

During their previous stop, he and Luther had MacGyvered a shield by securing a hood salvaged from an old Buick to the rear of the bus. It damn well better protect them from Operation RayGun. They had even covered the side mirrors with black plastic on the off chance the weapon’s energy ray might bounce off them and onto the bus.

A minute later, maybe five—the concept of time no longer relevant when presented with the notion of getting fried alive—he pushed his way into the traffic. He must have cut off a vehicle based on the angry horn activity that followed.

“Guys, guys, we made it!” Justin was the first to shout.

Cheering took over.

But, their luck was about to run out. Dean had emptied the last jerrycan of petrol into the tank. And it was a good sixty miles to Tent City.

Chapter 25

Zachary Padilla crawled and cursed his way through the grody cement culvert that went under the highway. It was the closest entry point he had found into the Y-zone quadrant near Quinton’s, sight unseen.

He had been hiking through the zones for over twenty-four hours, avoiding the heavily surveilled quadrants. Getting by on a handful of sleep, he had holed up inside a boarded-up Dairy Queen last night. To his dismay, the RedDead Alert was still in effect with roadblocks monitoring the Zone entrances. Evidently, Last State had their hands full with the unprecedented horde attacks in the inner Zones.

After making it to the Z-zone side of the culvert, he quickly doffed the filthy maintenance coveralls he wore over his city clothes. Damn, he should have made it to Quinton’s by now. He hadn’t hitched any more rides, knowing the zomb dead body in his hotel room surely had been discovered, which meant there was a BOLO out there fitting his description.