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

glancing their way. They must have finished their business. “Justin, best we set up that tent while we have some daylight,” he decided, planning the night’s agenda. “Luther, you mind keeping watch?”

“I’ll be right here,” Luther affirmed.

Dean took the longer route and cautiously hiked down the gradual slope used for the carts while Justin jumped into the bottom of the ravine. To be young again. Why had fate seen fit to make an old fogy like himself responsible for the lot? Not that he was their official leader. Though, it sure seemed that way at times.

“Guys, I snagged this awesome tent from Wally World.” Justin lifted up the package. “It’s got four rooms. Plus, a room in the center. Only a twenty-minute setup.”

Dean reached for the box. The darn thing weighed a good fifty pounds. “And you plan on luggin’ this all the way to—” He stopped himself. Sometimes he wondered where the kid had left his wits. That’s why fate had selected him; plain-old common sense was his forte.

Justin and Dean set up the tent while the mamas nursed their babies. Forty-five minutes later, the tent was ready.

“Twenty minutes, my ass,” Dean scoffed.

“It would have been way easy if we could have watched the vlog,” Justin defended. “Anyway, we know what to do next time.”

Would there be a next time? Dean wasn’t looking forward to breaking it down in the morning. Nonetheless, he had to admit it was a snazzy tent, providing the gang privacy.

“See . . .” Justin gracefully gestured his arms around the tent like Vanna White. “Each room zips up. There’s one for Ella, Mateo, and me. Mindy and Starla, Scarlett and Twila. And you and Luther can share one if you alternate guard shifts. We can even put our stuff in the center room.”

Ella looked too exhausted to be impressed. “What do you want for dinner?” Ella asked, rubbing her feet.

“I’ll take care of it,” Scarlett said. “Why don’t you and Mateo take a quick nap.”

“You’re so sweet.” Ella didn’t argue. She grabbed her pack and claimed a compartment.

Scarlett rifled through the carts, looking at the freeze-dried buckets. “How do black bean burgers and mashed potatoes sound?”

“I wanna help,” Twila chirped. Twila had been unusually obedient. It was another plus.

For a moment, Dean envisioned they were on a family camping trip. The thought made him miss Kyle all the more. There wasn’t a day he hadn’t kicked himself in the butt for not getting back to his cabin in California. Oftentimes, he indulged in the notion Kyle was out there somewhere bunkered in tight with an enclave of his Army buddies. Better than the alternative. Heaven forbid his son shambled the streets as a soulless dead-head.

While Scarlett and Twila fussed over the cooking, he took the opportunity to retrieve the sleeping bags. He soon realized that storing the carts in the tent’s middle compartment wasn’t feasible, moreover, there was only enough room for one cart, which he rolled over a tarp so as not to rip the tent’s floor.

An hour later, he sat in front of the tent with a full belly, wondering how they were crossing Zoat. It was so close. He could almost feel the dead-heads’ hunger pangs gnawing at his own belly. Is this how Twila feels as an empath? No wonder the child’s a wreck.

The gals were tucked away in their sleeping bags when Dean handed out the guard shift schedule. He wasn’t too keen on sleeping, dreading what dreams might come. That was if he managed to get any sleep whatsoever.

***

Dean woke up with a start to find Luther nudging him.

“You gotta see this.” The anguish in Luther’s eyes sent Dean scrambling out of his sleeping bag.

Worry had led him to sleep in his clothes. He quickly slipped on his boots before joining Luther outside.

“Would you look at that . . .” Dean stood there, flabbergasted. In the dawn’s hazy glow, hundreds of people trekked northwest, stopping at the wooden directional sign. “It’s a bloomin’ exodus.”

“Think they know something we don’t?” Luther muttered under his breath.

“Yep, all the more reason to get going.” Dean tucked his plaid shirt into his pants. “What’s everyone up to?”

“Scarlett and Twila are on the east side of the tent fixing breakfast. The rest are probably still sleeping.”

The aroma of food—that’s why he wasn’t nauseous from Zoat’s penetrating stench. Dean hurried to the center of the tent. “Everyone, up and at ’em. There’s a situation brewing. Pack it up. I want to be on the road in fifteen minutes.” It was an unreasonable request, but it ought to get them moving. He didn’t stop nagging until he heard the unzipping of their compartments.

Dean rushed outside and took in the scene with binoculars. “It seems to me they’re in an awful hurry for this hour of the morning.”

“What’s up?” Justin asked with a yawn. He snapped to when he noticed the exodus. He gave Dean and Luther a knowing look.

“Son, please tell me this is normal. A sporting event or swap meet?” Dean tossed out there.

“Are they Zoners or Zhetts?” Justin grabbed the binoculars. “Holy shit! I’ve never seen that many defectors. Definitely Zoners. Dressed like they’re going to their desk jobs. And they’re dragging suitcases. How lame is that?”

“What’s your take on this?” Dean asked. Justin knew more about Last State than he did.

Justin stared in awe. “Seriously, we’re actually witnessing the collapse of Last State. My co-workers used to dream about saving enough LS Credits to buy a one-way ticket through a smuggler’s tunnel. It’s like the new post-apocalyptic American Dream.”

“What took them so long to rebel?” Luther asked.

“See, cits were safe from the hordes—until now. They’re giving up their cozy apartments,” Justin said.

“Your rebel friend’s tactics must be helping as well,” Dean theorized out loud.

Scarlett and