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

Twila ran a burrito to her. Scarlett had lost her appetite, but her body would appreciate the calories.

“You’re a godsend,” Dean mumbled. “I burned through the calories driving the skoolie.”

“Up here,” Justin said with his hand up in the air.

Luther tossed a burrito his way. “Pick up a bucket of extra-crispy fried chicken,” Luther yelled as she and Justin exited the bus.

“Haha,” Justin jibbed back.

Scarlett had claimed one of the ponchos to boost her confidence parading as a man, despite the warm afternoon.

They tromped side by side along the shoulder, facing the oncoming traffic, and ate their burritos. Passersby sped by, staring at them, but no one stopped.

“Is there usually this much traffic going to Tent City?” she asked. According to Shari, few Zhetts could afford vehicles.

“That’s the thing—I didn’t want to say anything back there. Trying to keep Ella calm,” Justin said, stuck in gloom and doom. “Something huge is definitely happening. Hordes or the Resistance. Most cits are usually too freaking scared to leave the safety of the Zones. Zhetto Market is as far as they go—unless they’re defecting.”

The quiver in his voice made her soften her focus. She peered into his ethereal body and instantly recoiled at the pain, the fear, the anger souring his heart. She had healed the old wound once before. But like any deep-seated wound, it would fester until the infection had healed, in his case, releasing his guilt over the death of Miguel.

Quickly, she worked on clearing away the low-vibes eating away at his soul. The group depended on his quirky optimism to lighten the mood. When Justin was down, he brought the entire group down.

Before she knew it, they reached the pop-up stand nestled under a grove of sparse, wind-beaten trees. With her braids stuffed snuggly under the hat, sunglasses on, and the grimy-face hack, she didn’t feel the least bit feminine. “So, Viagra . . .” Scarlett teased.

Justin shrugged. “It’s on Mad Dog’s top ten list of coveted items.”

“I didn’t realize that many women lived in Tent City—”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Zhetto’s infamous for their cat houses. Mostly, those icky blowup sex dolls. But a few hard-core women live there. Smugglers get paid big bucks for kidnapping women from the Lost States. The hot babes get auctioned to the Elites. The others—”

She had been on the auction block herself. “Some things never change.” Scarlett kicked a pile of pebbles someone had gathered from the drainage ditch. It was better to release the anger than wallow in it.

“Ready for this?” she muttered under her breath as they walked past several sun-faded vehicles parked on the shoulder. Shoppers in raggedy clothing combed through the wares. Scarlett and Justin casually browsed the goods. They had looted plenty of camping equipment, weapons, clothes, and food. More than they could carry. However, the buckets of freeze-dried foods really weren’t that practical to haul.

“You need some ’em, holla,” said the scruffy black man in knee-torn jeans and a pit-stained T-shirt.

“Gas,” Justin said flatly. “We just ran out.”

The man hurried to them. “If you got LSCs or ration cards? There’s a gas station two miles down. You can hitch a ride with my homie for a hundred LSCs.”

Justin shook his head in response. They were out of ration cards and LSCs.

She headed for the carts for sale.

Justin followed. “Nice. They upgraded the wheels. How much for a cart?” He discreetly pulled out bottles of Sudafed and Claritin.

A spark of interest washed over the vendor’s face. “My homie modified these ones for rough terrains. See these? Ten-inch no-flat tires. With heavy-duty ball bearings. Even beefed-up the axles. These’ll get yal’s shit to Tent City—and then some,” he hinted as if guessing their intentions.

“Sweeet,” Justin drawled, rolling a cart back and forth.

They were quite a bit larger than Costco carts. And definitely sturdier. Twila was right, she could ride inside, although it wouldn’t be all that comfortable.

“One or two?” the man asked.

“Six.” Justin held out six packages each of Sudafed and Claritin. “Take it or leave it,” Justin spouted with blasé arrogance.

The man ogled the packages. “You gotcha yourself a deal!” He held out his hand for the exchange.

Familiar brown cases stacked near the carts caught her attention. “MREs?” she rasped in her gruffest voice. MREs were easy to stuff in backpacks and could be eaten without the trouble of setting up the stove.

“Sho’nuff. But, these”—he tapped the box on the folding table serving as the customer counter—“just in. Survival Food Tabs! Can’t keep ’em in stock.” He slashed open the box.

As Scarlett recalled, survival tablets had been popular at the Zhetto Market.

“Great for when you’re on the go.” The man gestured broadly to the grassy plains. “Just pop one of these puppies every hour for maximum stamina. And you’ll get where you’re gettin’ to.”

An unexpected scene of hiking the deserts played in the background. The food tablets were a must-have, small enough to carry in pockets. “We’ll take two dozen,” Scarlett said firmly, nodding over Justin’s shaking head. “And two dozen MREs.”

Justin gave her the what-are-you-doing eye roll. “This is all I have.” He pulled out six bottles of Allegra.

The man’s chin wrinkled in disapproval.

Justin slowly pulled out another bottle. “Viagra!” He shook the bottle in front of the man’s nose.

A broad smile took over his face. “Pick your poison.”

Scarlett quickly selected several MRE varieties, growing acutely aware that the grungy men by the produce carts were paying too much attention to them.

“Time to go,” she uttered under her breath and tossed the bat in the cart. They took off with three carts each pushed into one another.

“Yo, stay off State Line Road,” the man called after them. “Rumor has it they’re sending in troops once the hordes in the inner Zones are neutralized. Y’all take