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

shouting took over. He managed to make out through the chaos, “They blew up Zoat! We can cross!”

Luther made it to his feet to see an army of tanks roll in from the east. Some crazy-ass shit was going down. And he was in the thick of it. He fought his way to the ticket stand where a huge mob of crazed citizens invaded the end zone . . . heading straight for him. His running-back instinct took over. He rushed the crowd, finding a hole through the defense, determined to make it past the line of scrimmage.

All the while, his anger broiled to nuclear meltdown magnitude. It was time for some serious ass-whooping. He had often fantasized about the day he came face-to-face with Mad Dog. Judgment day! And he was itching to spend that bullet with Mad Dog’s name mentally engraved on it. For herding the X-strain horde through Last Chance.

Luther brandished his fists in the air. He hadn’t been there for Sheena. Had it been genuine love? Or infatuation? Hell, it didn’t matter. Mad Dog had destroyed his last chance for love.

He made it through the mob. Three people near the forty-yard line were the only ones not running. That’s got to be them! The shaved-headed man in Viking attire had to be Mad Dog. Vengeance trembled to Luther’s lips.

He snuck up behind the bastard while Justin and Mad Dog engaged in an animated shouting match. Justin lunged for Mad Dog with a ten-inch blade. Mad Dog blocked it with a bizarre ax-like weapon. The block must have hit a nerve. Justin’s blade flew to the ground. Mad Dog cocked his head back and laughed. Without warning, Mad Dog yanked Ella to him and pressed the barrel of a .45 to her head.

Luther cocked his Glock just as Justin parkoured off a Jeep a few feet away. Justin did an impossible side-flip and flew at Mad Dog, hurtling on top of him. Ella ducked as Justin’s bound hands caught Mad Dog’s neck in a stranglehold. Mad Dog’s gun went off. The two collapsed to the ground, kicking and punching. Ella jumped on top of them, screaming.

The way they were going at it, no one appeared to be shot. But with the wild brawl, Luther didn’t have a clean shot. He plucked Ella off them. Justin was a shrimp compared to Mad Dog, but Justin’s rage overcompensated for the difference. He’s venomous when torqued off.

“Avon calling!” Luther sing-songed.

Recognition swept across Justin’s face. Luther reached for his pearl-handled blade. He slashed Justin’s zip-tied hands, nicking Mad Dog’s throat. He tossed Justin aside by the scruff of his shirt. “This mofo’s all mine.”

Luther drilled into Mad Dog’s beady eyes. “I’ma terminating yo stinky ass!” A surge of energy flooded Luther’s head, somehow giving him the power to see beyond Mad Dog’s physical body. A nest of ethereal-like snakes hissed in the man’s aura like a Medusa on meth. He shook away the impossible image.

“For Sheena!” Without hesitation, Luther sliced Mad Dog’s neck, hoping the blood splatter missed Justin and Ella.

He jumped back when Mad Dog sprang back to life. For a split-second, the thought occurred to let the monster live out his undead days as one of those stinking nimrods. Then again, Mad Dog would destroy more lives.

Luther fired a round into his tattooed skull. And it sure as hell wasn’t out of compassion. The sweet-and-sour taste of revenge regurgitated to his throat. He was probably damned to hell for that one. He had relished it. Far too much.

“Dude?” Justin swayed in an apparent state of confusion. “Where the heck did you come from?”

“Is she shot?” Luther whispered, afraid of the answer.

“Ella!” Justin rushed to the lumped body on the field. He turned her over and searched for injuries. “No blood.”

More bombs went off. Helicopters roared overhead.

Luther kept his head on the swivel, ready for anything. “This must be the crackdown you were talking about.”

Justin was too busy mumbling and rocking Ella in his arms. A spray of automatic gunfire signaled it was time to get out of there. “Time to jet.” Luther hurled Ella over his shoulder.

“Luther,” she croaked.

“I got you,” Luther said firmly.

Justin pivoted from side to side. “The tunnel’s that way.”

“Not anymore,” Luther blared.

Justin’s face went blank. “What do you mean?”

“They blew the shit out of Zoat.”

“No way. Last State wouldn’t do that,” Justin argued. “They need the cits.”

“I’m thinking the Zhetts blew it. To get outta Last State.”

That aha look flickered in Justin’s eyes.

“Stay close. Not losing you again.” Luther heaved on with Ella over his shoulder and jogged toward Zoat along with the rest of Tent City.

Without warning, the crowd in front of them did an about-face and ran in their direction. That can’t be good.

“Holy shit!” Justin bellowed. “The Zs from Zoat—they’re invading Tent City!”

A humongous horde headed straight for them, turning the ones within lunging-distance. Luther thought quickly. “Head back to those bleachers. We’ll hang there ’til the horde moves on.” He was out of good ideas.

When they finally made it back to the ballfield, Luther stopped long enough to catch his breath and contemplate their next play. The horde swarmed the field, doubling if not tripling in size as it added Zhetts to Club Dead.

“Get to the top,” Luther bellowed as he stomped up the bleachers.

“You can let me down now,” Ella gasped.

The three of them stood on the bleacher’s top row. The ground level completely surrounded by Zs.

Ella cried out, “Archangel Michael, watch over mijo!”

“Good God Almighty!” Luther had forgotten about the baby. “Is he—” He turned to Justin, unable to say, “dead” in front of Ella.

“He’s with Mindy,” Justin whispered.

“Whut?” Luther didn’t have time for questions. A Z in an elegant golden robe scrambled to the front of the groaning