“Yeah, yeah, I think we can handle them,” LuLu said simple enough.
She must be tired of Paxton actin’ like tough shit and all that. Paxton ain’t so tuff—not after he’s a zombie.
Nate slouched back in the recliner, lost in a daydream, thinking how Paxton would look—as a zombie. He chuckled and snorted.
A quick little nap to clear my head, that’s all I need.
***
Scarlett waited and watched, praying with every inch of her scared-shitless heart that Nate would actually fall asleep in the next few minutes. They only had a few precious minutes. The room was silent as if they were all secretly waiting to hear Nate’s uneven snoring.
Ella, for once, wasn’t crying, but her lovely Latino complexion had turned the pasty color of a newly-turned corpse. Scarlett noticed for the first time that Ella was wearing the lovely pearl earrings Justin had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Why she noticed that now, for the first time, out of everything that was happening, she really didn’t know. Her senses were definitely working overtime; her mind studied every detail almost as if in slow motion while she racked her brain for a viable escape plan.
Everyone seemed unbearably tense. “How about a game of Gin?” Scarlett asked in an optimistic tone.
Justin looked at her as if she might be insane. “Just go with it,” Scarlett whispered, and they sat on the carpet around the small mahogany coffee table. Justin dealt them each a hand. And she knew they all waited for Nate to fall asleep.
How long does it take to hot-wire a truck?
Knowing Paxton, it wouldn’t take long unless creepers were in the area.
About five minutes into their game, the sound of a faint snore raised her hopes. LuLu silently stepped out of the recliner next to Nate, leaving it in its reclining position perhaps afraid the squeaking noise of the leather or the hinges might wake up Nate. LuLu tiptoed to the fireplace, snatching the poker from the ornamental fireplace stand, and then whopped Nate in the forehead with it, just like that.
“Go!” LuLu screamed as a bloody streak trickled down Nate’s forehead.
“Come with us LuLu,” Scarlett said while running to the window, slowly pulling the curtains back to get a quick view of the front yard. Paxton was at the end of the residential intersection checking out the tires on a blue truck.
“Go!” LuLu screamed again.
“LuLu we can’t leave you, they’ll kill you!” Scarlett ran up to LuLu and shook her by the shoulders in an attempt to reason with her.
“Justin, take Ella—Go!” LuLu warned.
Scarlett didn’t know what to think. She’d been trying to organize a plan all morning; the plan really sucked, but without weapons, supplies, vehicles, there was no such thing as a good plan.
We’ll just have to wing it . . .
“Justin, you and Ella escape out the patio door,” Scarlett decided.
“Scarlett, we aren’t leaving you here with those, those
evil
men,” Ella exclaimed.
“We should all go together—” Justin hurried. They all ran to the back patio door.
“You know Paxton will catch us if we’re together. If we split up, the odds are someone will make it out of here,” Scarlett said, thinking out loud.
“Are you for real? This is like that graveyard scene in a horror flick where some idiot says ‘ye-ah, I know—let’s all split up,’ ” Justin spouted.
He was right; still, she had to go with her gut feeling, and her gut feeling told her they had to go separate ways in order to save Ella because her primal gut feeling told her that Paxton didn’t really want Ella. No, Paxton wanted her.
Scarlett ignored Justin’s comments. “Don’t go to the hotel. That’s the first place he’ll look. Reno, go to Reno!” she said, giving Ella a loving hug, “Who knows, maybe you can catch up with Luther in Reno. Or, hide-out somewhere along I-80 and wait for Luther. Dean might even be going to Reno too,” Scarlett said it as convincingly as she could. But it was all BS; she really didn’t know.
“So you’re going to meet us in Reno?” Justin asked slowly.
“No, no I’m going to my sister’s house—Pinole,” Scarlett lied. Suddenly a warning flashed like a red strobe light, flashing so brilliantly in her mind it blinded her momentarily. “He’ll find us if we all go together,” her words rushed out. Time was running out. Besides, LuLu would probably tell Paxton that she was going to Pinole. It could buy all of them some time. Precious time. And sadly for Scarlett, she finally accepted the fact that Pinole was no longer an option, not now. Not ever.
“OK, I’ll Facebook you, Scarlett Lewis from Roseville, when everything’s back to normal,” Justin said, giving her one of his trademarked smirk-ish grins.
“Take care of him,” Scarlett whispered and gave Ella another hug, afraid to let her go. Scarlett watched as Justin and Ella darted out the back patio door, holding hands.
The young couple jumped the fence to the backyard directly behind them. She prayed Paxton wouldn’t choose that direction to begin his search. No doubt LuLu would point Paxton in Scarlett’s direction.
“OK, LuLu, last chance.” Scarlett felt panic setting in.
LuLu stood in front of her, blocking the sliding glass door to the patio. “Not so fast,” LuLu rasped.
That’s when she noticed the gun in LuLu’s hand. Nate’s gun. Scarlett could see pools of hatred swirling in LuLu’s hazel eyes, eyes blazing of hell, the vision so real it singed her skin. Scarlett instantly shut her eyes; however, when she closed her eyes the vision became even more searing. Scarlett could feel the intense hatred that consumed LuLu’s soul. LuLu wanted her dead, of that she had no doubt.
“You’re gonna love this part—shoot me,” LuLu said with a deadpan expression.
“What the—” Scarlett gasped.
“Got to make this whole scam look real or Paxton will
kill
me. You know he will.” LuLu dared her with those hellish-hazel eyes. LuLu shoved the gun in her hand. “Shoot me in the arm!” LuLu demanded.
Scarlett stared, speechless.
“Do it!” LuLu’s eyes shrieked louder than her voice ever could. “You snitch bitch, you little Miss Prissy, goody two shoes, I’m too good for everyone . . .”
Click. Scarlett squeezed the trigger again. Click.
“That piece of shit. Can you believe Paxton gave Nate an unloaded gun?” LuLu raved.
Scarlett checked the chamber: no bullets.
LuLu dashed into the den and returned with the fireplace poker, Nate’s blood still clinging to the hook.
“Swing away, give me all you got and don’t go wimping-out on me. Hit me on the back of my shoulder,” LuLu ordered and turned around facing the sliding glass door, her back towards Scarlett.
Scarlett stood there, stunned, frozen in the moment.
“You snitch b—”
“All right, all right.” Slam! Scarlett let her have it, nailed her on the back, carefully avoiding the bloodied-hook of the poker. LuLu crashed into the sliding glass door.
“Well, is that convincing enough for you,” Scarlett fumed. LuLu’s dishwater-blond hair smeared blood on the glass door as she slid, slowly, slowly to the Pergo flooring: lifeless. LuLu was sprawled out on the floor, forehead against the sliding glass door. Scarlett had not planned on that; she didn’t know that the blow would knock her head against the glass.
“What have I done? LuLu! LuLu—” she cried, letting the poker fall to the floor.
Jeez
, how she hated Pergo flooring, and she really, really hated it now with LuLu’s body crumpled there on the floor.
The faint sound of the truck pulling into the driveway rattled her nerves.
Time’s up.
Scarlett grabbed the poker and slipped out the sliding glass door. She jumped the backyard fence to the house next door and then darted across the street and hid behind an overgrown Oleander bush. She wanted a perfect view of the front door.
Surely Paxton wouldn’t expect her to remain nearby, and she wanted to keep an eye on the house, needing to see what direction Paxton went first. A gunshot ripped through the air, causing her heart to pound even harder. Scarlett felt a sudden burst of heat ripple through her entire body. It was then that she knew someone was really dead: Nate or LuLu?
If Scarlett had to, if she absolutely had to—she’d use herself as bait to lure Paxton away from Ella and Justin. But then again if Nate was dead, she didn’t need to worry about Ella so much. She wrestled with the possibility that she could handle Paxton. There was no doubt in her mind that Paxton was one sick bastard, a psychopath, maybe one of those sadist-masochist she had read about in college. On the other hand, Nate was more volatile, unpredictable, and just plain evil; who knew what horrid things he had planned. So, Scarlett waited, crouched behind the Oleander bush.
She watched. And, waited for Paxton to leave the house.
Scarlett squeezed-shut her eyes, willing for a single glimpse of one of her vivid dream-like images that so often haunted her these past few months since the flu outbreak. She shrieked silently to her subconscious:
Where are you when I need you?
But she only saw empty, black space. She hid behind the bush and concentrated. Waiting. Willing. Finally, a blurry, foggy image deep in the far corners of her mind flirted with her. It was the image of a little girl.
Ella, when she was a child?
She tried forcing the image to come in clearer.
A commotion from inside of the house caused her to lose her concentration. It was Paxton, shouting to someone, which meant that either LuLu or Nate was still alive. Paxton drove off in a blue Ford truck and sped down the street, turning left, the opposite direction Justin and Ella had gone.
Scarlett felt an irrational urge to run back in the house to see if LuLu was still alive. Maybe, this time, she could convince LuLu to escape with her. But if she ran into Nate—could she kill him too? Like LuLu.
Now I’m just being paranoid. Chances are—I didn’t kill LuLu.
Suddenly Paxton’s truck raced off in the opposite direction, in the direction Justin and Ella had gone. But no telling where those two were by now, it had been at least thirty minutes or so since Justin and Ella had left.
Scarlett darted from bush to bush, from house to house, towards the residential intersection. She had to be more careful now that she had made it past the barricade and was in creeper territory. She waited again for signs of Paxton. She hid behind a tree at the end of the street and waited.
The next thing she knew Paxton went off racing down the opposite direction again and luckily didn’t spot her as she ducked and blended in the shadow of a tree. The truck roared by, and he turned down the next street.
She slowly approached the intersection to get a better view. She spotted Paxton’s Ram truck a few houses down. The truck he’d traded in earlier this morning, the driver’s door still open, hood left up. Scarlett took a last look around and cocked her head listening for the truck. No signs of anyone. Making a run for it, she dashed inside the truck just as small pack of creepers meandered around the corner a half-block away. She scrunched down in the seat and slowly closed the door, not daring to latch it shut, afraid the noise would alert the pack.
She waited for the pack to amble down the street and nearly let out a cry of excitement when she saw the key in the ignition. Holding her breath, she turned the key one notch, praying it still had gas, enough to get away. The idiot light flashed in her face, less than an eighth of a tank. The pack loitered about for nearly ten minutes in the middle of the street, their heads twisting about, sniffing at the air. Could
they
smell her?
Scarlett sank further down in the seat and peered out of the window through a tiny gap between the truck’s open hood and the bottom edge of the windshield, and through that minuscule opening she watched. If
they
spotted her—smelled her human scent, she’d be trapped in the truck until Paxton inadvertently found her on his way back. If she took off in the truck, how far could she drive with the hood open? But it was too late now to close the hood.
They
were here, a few feet away. She could handle two, maybe three of them, but not an entire flippin’ pack. No, she knew her limits.
Suddenly Paxton came charging back down the street, right past her.
What?
Completely blindsided by his sudden reemergence, she made herself as small as possible, scrunching even further down in the seat if that were at all possible and peered through the narrow gap of the windshield. She stared in utter disgust as he spun his truck around and backed the truck through the pack of approaching creepers, backing-up over and over again, and he didn’t stop until every one of
them
had been pulverized into the street’s asphalt—like mashing avocado’s into guacamole with salsa, lots of salsa. Then Paxton turned right a few streets down.
Think he’s pissed . .
.
She wanted to gag; the air was ripe with rotting creepers. It was now or never. She turned the key. The truck started.
Must be my lucky day!
After closing the hood, she pointed the truck in the opposite direction of Paxton and sped down as many streets as she could, knowing she had to get out of here fast before Paxton noticed the truck was missing.
Scarlett had no flippin’ idea where she was. Justin had told her earlier that they were near a big mall, Arden Fair Mall. He had remembered seeing it when they had exited the highway during their escape the night of the fire. Unfortunately, she didn’t know her way around Sacramento. The freeway entrance by the mall was the only one she knew of in Sacramento unless she happened on another entrance.
If I can make it to the mall, I can get out of here.