Only The Dead Don't Die (23 page)

“Did you ever stop to think that this new guy might want to play ball with us?” Paxton said, trying to kick the ball back in his own court, the way he liked it.

“Not sharin’ my bitch three ways, and that’s my final answer,” Nate snorted a psychotic laugh like he’d just said something clever.

“I’ve got it all worked out. And I don’t need you to go and screw things up,” Paxton said firmly, eying Nate pacing around in a semi-circle. It was one of Nate’s annoying habits, something he did when he was unsure. Paxton waited as Nate calmed down a notch, knowing he was close to convincing the tweaker.

“I don’t get it, man. We could have offed the old fart months ago,” Nate continued to whine.

“Not so fast, patience is a virtue my friend. We needed Dean in the early days. He runs this hotel and the entire group. All we got to do is scrounge the city for fuel, take out the trash, and play by the rules, giving us plenty of time for our extracurricular activities.” Paxton raised one eyebrow suggestively in a wicked arch, “If you know what I mean.”

“You let that old fart boss you around like you’re his little fuckboy or something,” Nate spouted with disgust, causing a mist of saliva to spray the air.

“Think about it Nate, while we play
Dean’s
game we’re earning their trust, and then, when they least expect it—BAM! We take abso-fucking-lutely over.”

“But, why not now? Right now!” Nate whined.

“Timing, it’s all about the right timing. We still need to know what’s happening out there, see if the government is in fact—AWOL. Cause if it is, then my friend, we’re about to be the rulers of this new world. A world made for people like you and me. People who aren’t afraid to grab the world by the cojones and squeeze ‘em so tightly they’ll do anything we want.” Paxton noticed the frown lines in Nate’s brow begin to ease.

“But Luther done fucked-up our plans. I say we go finish him off now, b’fo he wakes up,” Nate said eagerly, his eyes darting about wildly, the way they did when he went on a rampage.

Nate’s one sick fucker.
“Think about it, Luther’s arrival here’s perfect. He might be able to tell us what’s going on out there and depending on what he says . . .” Paxton deliberately left the sentenced unfinished and opened the dresser drawer. He pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black; he always kept a bottle in his room for emergencies. He poured them each a glass, breaking Dean’s rule of drinking on the third floor.

“Depending on what Luther says,” they clinked glasses.
The art of distraction—sleight of hand trick
. It always worked on the simple-minded tweaker. All Paxton needed to do was distract Nate a little longer. Just a little longer. “By next week things will be just as I promised,” Paxton downed his glass and poured them each another round.

Paxton placated Nate by going on and on about their exciting plans all the while thinking what a dumbass Nate was. And he wondered out of all the people in this fucked-up world, why the hell did he have to get stuck with Nate as his sidekick? Nate would just have to do for now until he found someone better, that is.

Scarlett sat at the small table in her room studying the map she’d found in one the houses they’d raided the other day. The map had been a lucky score. Nobody seemed to have paper maps these days. Maps were like lost relics buried at the bottom of cluttered desk drawers: forgotten. She carefully unfolded the map to get a better view of her route. Interstate 80 was the most direct route to Pinole, but she needed to be prepared if a detour became necessary. She neatly folded the map into a square section revealing the route and carefully slipped it into a plastic baggy, ready for quick decision-making in case she got caught in a bad situation.

Her over-stuffed luggage bag leaned against the bed, packed with winter clothing: two pairs of jeans, two sets of sweat pants, several sweaters, a raincoat, rain hat, rain boots, several pairs of socks, underwear, and a spare pair of Nikes that were the perfect size.

She and Justin had raided several houses, and she was both grateful and relieved to finally find the clothing she needed after being stuck wearing the same clothing since her arrival at the hotel.

Last night’s nightmare still clung to her like a bad case of morning-breath. Unfortunately, Scarlett could not quite recall the dream: it remained elusive and ominous. She could; however, sense the dream’s urgent warning: Get the hell out of here. She needed to break the news to Dean.
He’ll be furious. What if he doesn’t let me leave?

Frustrated, Scarlett tossed the map on the bed and decided to check on Luther again. She had checked on him after lunch and thankfully the fever had finally broken, but he remained in a deep slumber.

Scarlett panicked. Luther was gone.
Voices in the lobby?
To her surprise, Dean, LuLu, and Luther were chatting in the lobby, but it only sounded like idle small talk when she joined them.

“You must be Scarlett, don’t really remember much,” Luther held out his hand giving her a gentle handshake. “I really can’t thank you enough, looks like you healed me,” he said and rolled up the bloodied-torn pant leg for everyone to see. The infection seemed to be gone, and the wound appeared to be scabbing over, healing nicely.

“Thank God,” Scarlett sighed in relief.

“Luther joined us a few minutes ago. You’re here just in time,” Dean said to Scarlett.

Ella eyed them from the doorway of the dining room, hesitant to join them. Scarlett patted the spot next to her on the couch, and Ella shyly curled-up next to her like a skittish kitten.

LuLu spoke next, “So what in Hell’s angels is going on. Is this the Rapture or what?”

The smile on the big, black man waned. Scarlett felt sorry for the guy being put on the spot. “So where are you from?” Scarlett asked in an attempt to take the pressure off.

Luther thought for a second as if it was a complicated question to answer. “Originally Texas, then Ohio, then the Bay area. I was living in Oakland when the Super-Summer flu hit,” he seemed sad suddenly as if remembering.

Dean spoke next, “What’s it like out there, you come across other people?”

“I ran into a few bands of survivors. Most people are—” he paused again, “shell-shocked.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“Aren’t we all,” Dean said.

“What about the military, any sign of them?” Dean asked.

Luther hung his head low and shook his head, “Nope.”

“Not even FEMA?” Dean seemed despondent.

A single solitary tear slipped down Luther’s cheek. Scarlett was surprised to see a man of his ruggedness reveal such vulnerability. The dark circles under his eyes seem to darken even more, like black patches of soot under his sad eyes.

“Levi Stadium . . .” the words came out like scratchy sandpaper.

“Yep, the new Forty-Niners’ stadium. Never did make it there. Heard it’s a real humdinger of a stadium,” Dean said.

“Is that where we’re going?” LuLu asked.

Even Ella suddenly sat up straight, alert, excited for the news. Luther sat in silence looking down at the carpet. They all waited for him. Finally, he spoke again, “The news stations told everyone infected with the flu to get to Levi’s stadium. They had a vaccine. Mama called, said baby sister LaTasha had the flu.”

Luther seemed to be backtracking, lost in the pain of remembering. He looked up to face the group for the first time since he started talking. “You see, my baby sister LaTasha, she is—was the cutest thing ever. Anyhow, she caught the flu. So I told mama to take her to Levi’s stadium. Told her not to worry, and I’d catch up with them there,” He stopped again.

“I was almost there too, I swear by God I’da been there in time, but the traffic was horrific that day. I was so close . . .”

Scarlett was uncomfortably aware of the deafening silence in the room as if no one knew what to say next. Her heart poured out to him, feeling immersed in his grief.

Luther continued after what felt like a painful pause, “So, I was on my way there—to the stadium. The next thing I remember, these jets roared by. Seconds later, an explosion rocked the place. A massive fireball mushroomed in the sky,” his voice took on a monotone. “I remember thinking that was one hell of a fire, and I’d better get where I needed to be before the firetrucks blocked the roads. The only thing was, you see . . .” he stopped again.

“It’s OK Luther,” Scarlett interrupted feeling a flash of his intense grief, “you don’t need to say anything,” she wanted to cry for this man, a man she didn’t even know.

“They blew it up. Our military blew-up the goddamn stadium!” Every single person in the room gasped at the same time. The pain in Luther’s eyes was unmistakable.

“The roads were at a standstill. I don’t even remember getting out of my car. I just started running to the stadium. The entrance was a mosh pit, hundreds of people running. Everyone running. Some people were even on fire,” he stopped again. “Yup, our almighty government sent all the sick ones there and then blew-up the place. Heard rumors,” he paused. “Heard they bombed all the stadiums. That’s one way for containment,” his voiced cracked.

“Holy Mother of God!” Dean gasped.

Ella started to sob softly. Even LuLu’s face was damp with tears. Scarlett stared in utter disbelief. She had seen the arena in Natomas, it had appeared to have been bombed, but actually hearing it from Luther made it all too real.

“Did you happen to drive by Pinole?” Scarlett asked, wanting to change the subject, but afraid of what his response might be.

“That’s off of I-80. I ended up taking 680, so I can’t help you with that,” Luther said apologetically. “However, I do know some of the bridges were blown, the Benicia-Martinez Bridge for one. Had to wait a few weeks to hitch a ride on a boat. Yup, that cost an arm and a leg. And, the Bay Bridge was blown, I know that for sure. The National Guard and WHO—the World Health Organization, were trying to quarantine the entire Bay Area. Good luck with that. All I have to say about that is the military underestimated man’s desire to—live.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean looked worried.

“Despite the military’s feeble attempts to barricade the place off, people found a way out, all right. Unfortunately, both the human and non-human types. Nope, you do
not
want to go west. That’s one thing I know for sure!” Luther stated rather emphatically.

“Any signs of the military lately?” Dean asked.

At that moment, Justin and the Stockton Boys strolled in. “Look-e what we got!” Nate bragged. “We got ourselves a big Christmas ham.”

“Ella, can you make us a big Christmas dinner with those Mexican Wedding cookies you make?” Paxton coaxed.

Paxton and Nate seemed to be acting extremely peculiar, almost with an icky-fake niceness, making Scarlett want to gag.
What’s up with those two?
Then Paxton saw Luther on the sofa and must have realized he had missed out on something crucial, for his expression quickly transformed from his fake gag-me-with-a-spoon smile to his usual hard-ass glare.

“Dude, you’re like so awesome!” Justin exclaimed, apparently noticing Luther for the first time.

“Luther, this’s Justin, our official Zombie Expert,” Dean said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hey, why he gets to be the expert? I’m mo’ betta at smashing-in their stinkin’ skulls,” Nate said, as always missing the point.

“So bro, what’s it like out there? Got any
good
news for us?” Paxton prodded.

“They say Texas,” Luther said, keeping it short and sweet.

“What?” Paxton seemed surprised.

“People say Texas succeeded from the Union right after the stadium attacks. I got a call from my uncle in Houston. According to him, they sealed off the Texan border and weren’t letting in the infected.”

“Any excuse I suppose. Texas has been threatening to succeed from the Union for as long as I can remember,” Dean said while rubbing his chin.

“So, you going to Texas?” Paxton asked rather slowly.

“Who, me? Nope, not that desperate. It took me seventeen years to get out of there. Ol Luther here ain’t never going back,” Luther sounded appalled.

“Why not?” LuLu asked astonished, “If that’s where the people are—and the zombies aren’t.”

“No fucking way,” he stopped, looking a bit sheepish. “Excuse my French, but in case you didn’t notice, I’m a black man. Very black. No, they’ll probably revert back to their old ways if you know what I’m talking about.”

“Dude, what
are
you talking about? You know it’s illegal to display the Confederate flag now?” Justin reminded.

“That’s nothing but pure bullshit—white people trying to be politically correct and all that. At least when someone proudly brandishes the Confederate flag, you know where you stand with them,” Luther stated bluntly.

Scarlett thought she understood what Luther was trying to say as they all skirted around the racial issue.

“So, what’s
your
plan?” Paxton probed.

“Reno. Got a buddy with a cabin on the outskirts of Reno. He told me I could shack-up with him til things mellowed out.”

“How many people are with him?” Dean asked.

“Not sure, haven’t been able to reach him for two weeks. His phone must have died—my phone still works,” Luther glanced at Justin. “Say, what kind of crazy-ass message was that anyway?” Luther asked.

Justin shrugged, “Just trying to get somebody’s attention.”

“It sure enough did the trick. But hey, you all are welcome to join me. See, I got this theory, I’m thinking these
things
, these zombies, as you call them—I’m thinking they don’t like the cold so much. I sure as hell don’t,” Luther said.

“No thank you, we’ve got things under control here,” Paxton said as if he spoke for the whole group.

“We’ll have to think it over,” Dean said politely. “Actually, I do have a proposition for you before you go your merry way,” he said, all eyes suddenly on Dean.

“You name it,” Luther said. “You all saved my ass. I owe you for that,” he smiled, revealing a perfect set of bright-white teeth.

“Well bro, you ain’t’ heard what the old fart wants,” Nate’s tone was caustic, and he started prancing around as if his jeans were lined with fire ants.

Jeez Louise.
Nate must be on something, Scarlett thought.

Luther ignored Nate. “I’m a man of honor,” Luther said. “From what I’ve seen, there isn’t much left of society from the Bay Area to here. All I got left is honor, brains, fast legs, and an overwhelming desire to live. And did I mention a weakness for food?” he pointed to his rather large body mass.

Dean explained, “Here’s the deal, been hearing some chatter on the shortwave. Usually, it’s just a bunch of mumbo jumbo—never was able to make heads or tails out of it. This time, I distinctively heard Travis Air Force Base mentioned several times,” Dean said.

Scarlett felt a wave of excitement ripple through the room.

“And, you didn’t bother to inform us?” Paxton interrupted, his feelings seemed to be hurt.

“Yeah,” Nate interjected, “You holdin’ out on us old fart?”

“Not exactly, I figured the rest of you could stay here and run the place. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two. Hell, if it’s a smooth trip we might be back the same day. But doubt that, with the way the roads are blocked,” Dean said.

“No problem, that’s the least I can do after everything y’all have done for me. Besides, I need to go back anyway—left my stash in my car, somewhere between Vacaville and Fairfield,” Luther said.

“What?” Justin asked surprised.

“I have precious cargo that I’ve—let’s say, graciously acquired over the past few months . . .” Luther hinted.

“My man, my good friend, you gotta a stash?” Nate sniffed while running a finger against one nostril.

Dean glared at Nate.

“Bro, Luther here don’t have anything to do with narcotics. Never have and never will,” Luther declared, firm and correct. “Nope, got me a Hawaiian shirt collection,” Luther said rather proudly.

“Say what?” Justin asked. Luther had apparently sparked Justin’s curiosity.

“Don’t you worry none. I’m sure we’ll come across your things on our way to Travis,” Dean said, attempting to smooth out the possible misunderstanding.