Lost Coast

by Camille Picott

  “Hey.” Reed puts his hands on his hips. “I had to make the cake when Mama Bear was sleeping. I dare any of your asses to make a cake on a barbeque with a headlamp for light.”

  “I was talking about the decoration on the cake,” Jenna replies.

  “Oh.” Reed cocks his head at the paper plaque that looks like it was drawn by a third-grader. “I’m pretty much the next fucking Picasso. Ya’ll better save that. It will be worth millions someday. Do you like it, Mama?”

  “I—” I sputter, trying to find words. “How?”

  “How did we know it was your birthday, or how did we pull off the surprise?” Johnny asks.

  “Both.”

  “It is your birthday, right?” Caleb frowns.

  “Of course, it’s her birthday,” Carter says. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you, Mom?”

  I shake my head, still in shock over the surprise. I turn on Eric. “You were a distraction.”

  He shoves his hands into his pockets with a grin, not bothering to deny it. “How’d I do?”

  “You’ve officially tipped your hand. I now know you’re a grade-A bullshitter.”

  Everyone chuckles, crowding forward to hug me or clap me on the back. I catch sight of Ben at the back of the gathered crowd. He wears his general gruff expression, arms folded over his chest, but he gives me a wink when our eyes meet.

  “I hope I’m in good shape like you when I’m old,” Evan, the little boy, tells me.

  “Hell, I’m already old,” Margie says. “If Kate doesn’t give me a heart attack during training, I might get in shape one day.”

  “Heart attacks are half the fun,” Johnny tells her.

  “Says the punk who’s on a recovery cycle,” Margie grouses.

  “I’ll be passing you in another week. Just you wait, old lady.”

  “Gary made a special casserole,” Susan tells me. “He’s been working on the recipe for days.”

  “We had to break into the student store to get powdered potato cups,” says Christian.

  Since arriving, the former PE teacher has helped me add new strength training routines to our workouts. He’s shaved off his beard, revealing the face of a man in his early thirties. Christian wasn’t exaggerating when he said he ran the 400 and 800 meter sprints. Reed is still our fastest runner, but Christian chases his heels anytime I make them race.

  Gary and Susan bring out his casserole, which turns out to be the apocalypse version of shepherd’s pie. The top is covered with the powdered mashed potatoes. The bottom is a gooey mixture that bears a loose resemblance to cream of mushroom soup with caramelized onions and peas. I may have turned my nose up at it prior to the zombie apocalypse, but tonight, on my birthday, it’s the best thing I ever tasted.

  It turns out Gary has a sense for seasoning. He’s made some pretty interesting and delicious canned food casseroles on the barbeque. In comparison to Lila, he’s practically a gourmet chef, though I would never disrespect Lila’s memory by saying that aloud.

  After dinner, Reed prepares to cut the cake. “Someone get a candle or something,” he yells. “Anything flammable. Oh, and make sure there’s forty of them for our Mama Bear.”

  Jenna produces a potpourri candle with three wicks. “This is as good as it’s going to get.”

  “Peppermint scent?” Reed makes a face.

  Jenna shrugs, lighting the candle with a book of matches.

  “One more person wants to sing you happy birthday.” Johnny holds up the ham radio. “Foot Soldier, are you there? Over.”

  “Wandering Writer, this is Foot Soldier, over. Where’s Mama Bear?”

  “She’s right here, Foot Soldier,” Johnny replies. “Get ready to bust out the birthday melody!”

  “On three,” Carter calls, plunking the peppermint the candle in front of me. “One-two-three—”

  The entire room bursts into song. My gaze passes over each and every one of my companions. Carter. Jenna. Reed. Johnny. Eric. Ben. Caleb. Ash. Susan. Gary. Leo. Christian. Todd. Margie. Stacy. Little Evan and Kristy. And Alvarez, two hundred miles away. Everyone here, for me. My heart swells with love.

  I blow out the candle, sending a silent wish out in the world. Protect my people. Keep them safe.

  After everyone has cake, Carter taps a spoon against a glass. “Alright, everyone, time for Mom’s birthday present.”

  “Presents?” I ask. “On top of food and cake?”

  “One more,” Carter says. “This one took a lot of planning. Jenna and I may have gone on a super-secret mission with Ben back to a certain brewery.”

  My mouth falls open. “You what?”

  “Don’t worry.” Ben holds up his hands in self-defense. “I took enough grenades to take down a large village in China. They were perfectly safe.”

  I narrow my eyes in mock scowl. “No more super-secret missions.”

  “Don’t say that until you see what we have.” The crowd parts as Carter lugs a box in his arms. Glass clinks inside.

  He plunks the box in front of me. It’s wrapped in Hannakuh paper.

  “I found that!” Kristy jumps up and down, beaming. “I was playing hide-and-seek with Evan and found it under a bed!”

  “It is the most beautiful paper ever,” I tell her, tearing into the gift.

  The lid to a cardboard box pops open as the wrapping paper falls away. Brown bottles with beer caps fill the interior. I lift one out, my body going still as I take it in.

  On the front of the bottle is a hand-drawn label in the shape of a half-ellipsoid. A green mountain fills the upper curve, bisected by what is clearly a trail. On the trail is the silhouette of a runner. Over the top of the mountain are the words Over the Hill.

  Carter can’t contain himself any longer. “Jenna designed a beer label for you!” He beams at his girlfriend.

  “And Carter made a special brew for you,” Jenna says. “It’s a lager.”

  I pop the top of the bottle. The glass is cool in my hands. Not ice cold like the good old days when we had refrigerators, but cool like it’s been stored in a dark closet.

  The first sip washes over my tongue. I close my eyes, letting the taste carry me back to a different time. To a time when Kyle and Frederico were still alive. To a time when my free time was spent training for ultramarathons and researching races to see where my next adventure would take me. To a time when running wasn’t something I did for self-preservation.

  To a time when the world wasn’t overrun with the dead.

  “It tastes like a finish line.” My voice is rough with emotion.

  Carter and Jenna gather me in for a hug. I squeeze the two of them, holding them close. My love for them threatens to explode out of my chest.

  This is, by far, the best birthday I’ve ever had.

  HOURS LATER, I LEAVE the party and make my way back to my room. I have a slight buzz from the beer. Everyone else had one bottle, but I got three—on top of a couple of shots of moonshine that Reed and Johnny have been brewing. I feel happy from the inside out.

  To top everything off, I don’t have watch tonight. Leo took my shift as a birthday present. I might have insomnia, but at least I’ll be warm and comfortable in my own bed.

  Flinging open the door, I switch on the light—and freeze.

  Gone are the Grateful Dead postures, the baskets of stinky boy laundry I never got around to moving, and the cluttered desk of a college kid.

  Every surface area is spotless. The window is open, letting in fresh air. And did someone spray pine air freshener? Where did someone even find pine air freshener?

  Even the stained bedspread is gone, replaced with a graphic quilt. It depicts the silhouette of a howling wolf with a full moon hanging overhead.

  But the part that really takes my breath away is the walls. Covering every square inch—the ceiling, the walls, and even the bulletin board on the back of the desk—are pictures of nature. Trees. Rivers. Waterfalls. Deserts. Hillsides. Wildflowers. Oceans.

  For the first time in mo
nths, I feel like I’m back on the trail. Like I’m surrounded by the beauty and serenity I’ve missed so much. A piece of my old life gifted to me.

  Another birthday gift. And I know who it’s from.

  41

  Rooftop

  BEN

  When Ben hears steps on the ladder, he doesn’t turn around. He secretly hopes it’s Kate, though he promised himself not to hold his breath. She’s busy with her party; it’s too much to hope she’d have time to find him up here. Besides, it’s not like he left a card.

  “Hey.”

  Her voice washes over him. He closes his eyes, savoring it.

  He turns and finds her standing there, outlined by the starlight.

  “Did you do that?” she asks. “The pictures? My room?”

  “You told me you missed the trails.”

  She tilts her head at him. He can tell by the way she stands that she’s drunk. Maybe not shitfaced like she’d been at the wake, but there’s a looseness to her limbs and posture that gives it away.

  “When did I tell you that?”

  He wishes he could see her expression, but it’s dark and she’s too far away.

  “The night of the wake. You said you missed the trails.” He sucks in a breath, trying to work up the words he really wants to say. He blurts them out before he has time to second-guess himself. “If there was a way to give you a real trail, I would. Honestly, I thought about it. But I figured I might get myself killed trying to secure a section of the woods for you.” Now he sounds like an idiot. “I’m still useful around this place for a few things so I decided not to risk it.”

  She takes half a dozen steps in his direction, coming close enough that he can now see her face.

  “It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Ben.”

  “You deserve it.”

  The five paces separating them evaporates. Before he can fully comprehend the disappearance, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him.

  He’s barely let himself dream of this moment. Kate is so far out of his league it’s not even funny. Not to mention that he can be an asshole.

  But here she is, standing under the starlight, kissing him. And even though he knows he’s not good enough for her, he seizes the moment.

  He pulls her close and kisses her back. She feels as good in his arms as he’d imagined. His blood heats as she leans into him, running her hands up his back.

  The words come out all by themselves. “You taste like a bar.”

  The perfect moment fizzles. Kate steps out of the circle of his arms.

  “Really?” She wrinkles her nose at him. “You lead with all that stuff about wanting to build me a trail, then close with You taste like a bar?”

  Give him a gun to point at some bad guys, and Ben knows just what to do. Give him a grenade to lob, and he’s a pretty good shot. Hell, throw some undead at him and he’s more than up to the task of dispatching them.

  Giving him a woman he wants is like to scrambling his brain with a fork. Giving him a woman he’s crazy about is like scrambling his brain with two forks.

  “You did have a few drinks, didn’t you?” he asks.

  “A few, yeah. So did everyone else. You taste like Reed’s cake, by the way.”

  Five steps once again separates them. Ben searches frantically for a way to regain his footing, to overcome the gap that always seems to hang between them.

  His brain completely fails him.

  Kate’s shoulders sag. She presses her face into her hands.

  “I shouldn’t have come up here. I might be drunk, but I’m not that drunk. Whatever this weirdness is between us, it’s a mistake.”

  “I like the weirdness.” Fuck. Could anything more asinine have come out of his mouth? “I like you, Kate.”

  “I like you, too, Ben. I don’t know why, but I do.” She shakes her head. “But we’re not stupid teenagers. We’re both adults. We’re both smart enough to know this won’t go anywhere. We’re too different to ever be a real couple.”

  Then she’s gone.

  The rooftop is empty, deserted. He wishes he could rewind it all and try again.

  Ben stares at the space where she stood. The emptiness sucks him in.

  Before he realizes what’s happening, he’s standing in the courtyard of College Creek surrounded by the helpless kids gunned down by Johnson and his lackeys. The scene swirls, spitting him out in the baking heat of Pakistan, where he kneels beside the cot of a dying comrade.

  And, finally, he finds himself at the bedside of his newborn son, Sam. Signing over full custody to the woman he’d had a fling with for a few weeks while on leave. The remembered pain of that day staggers him.

  More than anything, he’d wanted to be a part of his little boy’s life. And he had been, in a way, for a few weeks every year whenever he was on leave. But Sam’s stepfather had been much more of a father than Ben had ever been. It had all been for the best. Ben wasn’t cut out to be a husband any more than he was cut out to be a father.

  He reels, heart pounding as he yanks himself free of the flashbacks. Leaning over his knees, he takes in big gulps of air.

  Tonight was all for the best, he tells himself. He’d have messed things up with Kate sooner or later. Better sooner and just get it over with.

  He doesn’t regret the gift for her. Not for a second. He wanted to do it for her. And it feels good to know his feelings for her aren’t one-sided. That’s tonight’s consolation prize, his takeaway from the disaster.

  He tries to be okay with it. He tries really, really hard.

  42

  Missed Call

  BEN

  Ben paces on the rooftop, scanning the university campus with his binoculars. It’s been exactly one week since he fucked things up with Kate. His insomnia is at an all-time high.

  He and Kate co-exist like they always have. They seem to have mutually agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.

  Except Ben can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It’s all he can think about. He wants to ask for a do-over, but hasn’t the first clue how to go about doing that.

  “What are you looking for?” Johnny asks. It’s his turn on watch, meaning he has to stick around even if Ben is feeling paranoid and decided to join him.

  “I don’t know,” Ben replies.

  He’s been fighting the itch for days. It has nothing to do with Kate. It’s not the normal kind of itching from a mosquito bite, either. It’s a buzzing in his gut, a sense that something in the world isn’t right.

  A lifetime in the army has honed his instincts. He’s had enough bad luck to recognize when it’s looming around the corner.

  What pisses him off is that even when he knows shit is about to go down, it often doesn’t do him a damn bit of good.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Johnny asks. He has his notebook open on his lap. How the kid can watch anything while he scribbles away in that thing is beyond Ben.

  “I have a feeling.” Ben pauses, watching a group of eight zombies stumble their way through campus. He makes a mental note to tell Kate. A team should go out to dispatch them later today.

  “Like, a bad feeling?” Johnny asks. “Like, a sixth sense?”

  Ben lowers the binos with an exasperated grumble. “Exactly.” He resents the kid for his eloquence.

  Johnny scribbles something in his notebook. “Tell me what it feels like.”

  “No.” Ben returns the binos to his face, sweeping the fortifications around Creekside.

  “Come on,” Johnny wheedles. “This is for posterity. You know I’m recording our life here at Creekside. Tell me what premonition feels like.”

  Ben rounds on him. “It feels like shit is going to hit the fan and I don’t know how to stop it.” He glares. “It sucks balls, kid.”

  Johnny grins at him. “I’m going to quote you on that.”

  Letting out another huff of disgust, Ben tosses aside the binoculars and heads down the ladder. He knows better than to open his mo
uth around that kid.

  “Bring up some dinner for me,” Johnny calls after him. “I hate cold food.”

  Ben ignores him even as he makes a mental note to get food for Johnny. He stomps into the common room. It’s bustling with eighteen bodies, two of which happen to be kids who decided this crowded room was a great place to play tag.

  Ben stands in the doorway, mouth twisting with distaste. It’s time to knock down some walls and make this dorm suite a genuine gathering space. It’s getting too damned cramped for his taste these days. He’ll talk to Kate and see about putting together a team to execute the remodel. It will be a good excuse to talk to her.

  He finds Kate sitting at the kitchen table, chewing at her bottom lip as she fiddles with the receiver of the ham. At the look on her face, Ben feels his hackles rise.

  Things might have regressed to a strictly professional level with them, but hell if he’s going to stand by and say nothing if she looks worried about something. Besides, the anxiety in his gut is expanding, making him even more edgy.

  “What’s going on?” he barks, coming to stand beside the table. A few people glance up at his sharp tone. Ben realizes he’s switched into his military voice. “I didn’t mean to talk like a drill sergeant,” he says, attempting with moderate success to modify his tone.

  Kate looks up with a wrinkled brow. “It’s Alvarez. He missed our regular check-in three days ago. He was supposed to check in this morning ...” Her voice trails off. “I’m just worried. That’s two missed check-ins.”

  “It’s not the first time he’s missed a call,” Carter points out, pulling out a chair to sit beside his mother. “Stuff happens. I’m sure he’ll be in touch as soon as he can.”

  Kate continues to worry at her bottom lip. “I just have a bad feeling, you know?”

  “That makes two of us,” Ben mutters, turning away. His voice is lost in the general hum around them as Gary comes in off the balcony with a fresh pot of spaghetti, the sauce made from the first harvest of Lila’s tomatoes in the garden.

  That night, sleep is impossible. His room feels cramped and stuffy. Between the itchy foreboding gnawing at him from the inside and endless thoughts of Kate, his head might explode.