Lost Coast

by Camille Picott

  Even before Kate reaches Leo, Ben knows the other man is dead. He’s seen enough men die to know all the signs. The slack muscles. The unhinged jaw. The blank, staring eyes. And the blood. Too much fucking blood.

  “Leo.” Kate presses her hands over the open wounds as blood fountains up between her fingers. “Ash!” she yells again.

  Ash drops to all fours and crawls over to them.

  “Leo!” Kate is near hysteria.

  “He’s gone.” Ash, face crumpled with grief, presses her fingers against the side of Leo’s neck. “He’s gone, Kate.”

  “No,” Kate snaps. “There must be something you can do.”

  Ash stares, eyes moving between Kate and Leo. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

  “No, no, no!” Kate pounds her fists on the deck. “Not another one!” Tears of anger and frustration pour from her eyes.

  Ben watches the grief take her again. The guilt. It would be easier to have someone peel the skin from his body.

  “We’re past the dragnet,” Susan calls. “I’m taking us into the ocean.” The hum of the Fairhaven’s engine increases as the boat picks up speed in the open water.

  “They’re not following,” Caleb calls. “They’re slowing down!”

  Probably because they don’t want to waste the gas it would require to pursue them out into open water, Ben thinks grimly. The fuckers put their zombie dragnet here for a reason.

  Ben shifts, wanting to comfort Kate, but Reed and Eric beat him to it. They kneel on either side, each putting their arms around her. He watches her draw comfort from them. The tension inside him eases, even though the desire to go to her doesn’t subside.

  He always thinks of Reed, Eric, Carter, Jenna, Johnny, and Lila as the “original” Creekside members. Even though the core group has opened their arms to new members—himself included—there’s a closeness between them that doesn’t include anyone else. Ben has never been much of a joiner, but there are times when he’s envious of them. Times like now.

  “What the hell just happened?” Kate demands of no one in particular. She wipes at her eyes as Ash drapes a tarp over Leo’s body.

  “Trap,” Ben says. “We triggered their alert back in Manila when we stumbled into their stockpile. They drove us neatly into a trap they set up to catch other boats.” At least his team had taken out a few of the assholes.

  He doesn’t even want to think about how they’re going to get back to Arcata when the time comes. This area of the bay has definitely been taken over by a hostile group. It will be a problem they’ll have to deal with at some point.

  No one speaks. They stand in a lopsided circle around Leo’s shrouded body. Poor bastard. Blood seeps out from under the tarp. The whine of the speedboats is gone, their pursuers no longer behind them

  “Put Leo’s body over the side,” Kate says, voice hollow.

  49

  Open Water

  KATE

  I look at my watch. Six hours and twenty-three minutes. That’s how much time has passed since I last spoke to Alvarez.

  We sail through Hookton’s Channel and enter the wide waters of the Pacific Ocean. The sea is frothy with slate-gray waves.

  I sit apart from the others, turning out to face the ocean.

  A man died because of me today. A good man. And it’s all my fault.

  The ocean spray hits me in the face. I close my eyes, trying to soak in the serenity of the open waves.

  It doesn’t work.

  For some reason, I don’t see Leo’s face behind my closed lids. I see his chest where the bullets struck him. I see red that blooms like a Rorschach test before my eyes.

  The land blurs by on my left, the pale dun-colored beach and the taller dark brown rock cliffs. To my right, the ocean is unending miles of slate blue.

  Time fades into the background. I can’t escape the Rorschach blotch. I see it in the variegated patterns of the ocean cliffs. I see it in the ebbing shadows of the ocean. I see it behind my eyelids when the sun hits them.

  I don’t turn when I feel a weight on the seat next to me. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

  “I volunteered to try and convince you to eat dinner.” Ben’s gruff voice washes over me. “But I know you don’t want to eat.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” I keep my eyes closed, not ready to face a living human right now.

  “You’re blaming yourself for Leo’s death. I get that.”

  Relief washes over me. I’m glad he doesn’t try to tell me it’s not my fault. “The worst part is that I broke up a family. Todd doesn’t have anyone now. Leo was his uncle, his flesh and blood. Real biological families are a rarity these days.”

  “Todd has us. Families in this new world are made from the scraps of the old. You know that better than anyone.”

  I finally turn toward him. “When the hell did you become a poet?”

  He grimaces. “Every once in a while, my brain decides it’s okay to connect with my mouth. It’s not going to be an everyday thing so don’t get too excited.”

  Our eyes lock. I study his gray irises. I see more in his eyes than I want to.

  I let my gaze wander, taking in the handsome seams around his eyes, the ones that carry the sorrow he wears on his arms. The white shadow of stubble across his jaw accentuates the strong angle of his face.

  If he’d remained silent, what would things have been like the night we kissed?

  “I’d be in trouble if you were like this all the time,” I murmur.

  “No chance of that happening.” His breath whooshes out of his lungs. “Not that I need to tell you that. I’m not a nice guy.”

  “That’s not true. You’re one of the most selfless people I know. You just chose to let the asshole take the lead most days.”

  Another long look passes between us. The yearning I feel in my chest threatens to crack me open. I’m the first to look away.

  “Nothing will bring Leo back,” I say.

  “No. Nothing.” Ben sighs. It’s a heavy, weighted sound. “If I bring you some food, will you eat? It will put everyone else on the boat at ease. It won’t fix things for you, I get that. But is it so bad to fix things for the ones you love?” He gestures with his chin to the far side of the boat.

  Eric and Reed sit side by side, each of them eating out of a can of chili. They stare at me, concern plain on their faces.

  My heart swells at the sight of them. Ben is right. I do love them. They’re as much mine as Carter and Jenna.

  “You’d do anything else for them,” Ben says. “What’s a little food in comparison to running through Arcata with alpha zoms after us?”

  Reed lifts the can in my direction, head cocked in question. “Food, Mama?” he calls.

  “What about it, Mama Bear?” Ben raises a gray eyebrow at me. “After that, we can get you a tattoo.”

  “Wh—what?”

  He shoves up one sleeve of his fatigue shirt to display the tattoos that cover his forearm. “You can wear the pain.”

  “Does it help?”

  “Not really. But it beats throwing myself off a twenty-story building. Same rule should apply to you.”

  “Is this the part where your mouth and your brain aren’t connected?” I ask.

  “Maybe.”

  “Remind me to pick up a roll of duct tape the next time we go scavenging. It might help keep the asshole at bay if I put a piece over your mouth.”

  “I doubt it.” The eye crinkle he gives me is genuine. The way he looks at me takes my breath away. I think of what Carter had said before we left Arcata.

  He leaves my side as Reed and Eric approach, one with a spoon and the other with a can of chili.

  “It’s not warm, but it still tastes good,” Eric says.

  I take it from him, even though my stomach is in knots and food is the last thing on my list. Ben’s voice plays in my head. Is it so bad to fix things for the ones you love?

  “Thanks, guys.” I take the food.

  They sit on either side of me, keepi
ng me company with their silence as I eat. I soak in their presence, grateful for my apocalypse family.

  My eyes drift to Ben. He stands beside Susan, the two of them bent over a map.

  He glances up, our eyes meeting across the deck of the Fairhaven. He gives me a knowing nod as he watches me eat with my boys. I smile back in silent thanks. Even though I can’t make sense of all that lies between us, I’m glad he’s a part of my apocalypse family, too.

  50

  Dead in the Water

  BEN

  They’ve been boating southward along the coast for two hours. Ben paces up and down the deck, unable to relax. Not even the clean, cold air of the Pacific Ocean can calm his nerves. He wants to be at Fort Ross already. The calm before the upcoming battle is making him edgy.

  He decides it would be a good time to go through the weapon packs and reconfirm their inventory. It will be helpful to have an exact count on their munitions when they get to the fort—

  Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk.

  This sound is followed by an awful groan from the Fairhaven.

  “Oh, shit,” Susan says.

  “What the fuck was that?” Ben snaps.

  “¡Que mierda!” Ash’s voice carries from the bow. “You guys better come see this.”

  The Fairhaven gives another groan, the engine coughing and sending up a plume of black smoke.

  Ben rushes to the bow where Ash stands. Blood and body parts bubble up from beneath the boat.

  “Dammit,” he growls. “I think some zoms got hung up on the bottom of the Fairhaven. They’re breaking loose now.”

  “I can’t steer,” Susan shouts. “I think there’s a body part in the propeller!”

  As if to confirm her statement, the Fairhaven lets loose several loud thuds, followed by a distinct snapping sound. The charter boat instantly decelerates. More zombie body parts float free.

  “The steering is shot.” Panic lights Susan’s voice. “She’s dead in the water!”

  The Fairhaven lurches sideways. A huge wave picks up the boat, driving it toward the coastline. In less than thirty seconds, the half mile between them and the land is reduced by half.

  “¡Hijo de puta!” Ash cries. “Guys, we have another problem! We’re headed straight for those rocks.”

  Kate and everyone else rushes to the bow, including Susan.

  “What can we do?” Kate asks. “Can someone go under the boat?”

  “Not with these waves,” Susan says. As if to emphasize her point, the current gives the boat another shove, driving it toward the coastline. “Even if the water were calm, I don’t have the right gear. The tide is high and this part of the coast is littered with rock. We are in big trouble.”

  Kate stares, taking in Susan’s white face and the waves that push them inexorably closer to the shore.

  “Can anything be done to salvage the boat?” Kate asks. “Anything at all? I’m open to any idea, even if it sounds crazy.”

  “There’s no way for us to repair the propeller out here.” Susan swallows, face pained. “We’re dead in the water. This coast will rip the Fairhaven into kindling.”

  Ben studies the shoreline. There are rocks for as far as he can see. Big, boat-killing rocks. They’re everywhere. And the current seems intent on driving the Fairhaven right into them. He knows what has to be done, but he waits for Kate to say it.

  Kate shades her eyes, studying the coastline. Her jaw is tense, but she isn’t panicked.

  “Is there anything at all you can do to steer the ship?” Kate asks. “We need to get as close to the shoreline as we can.”

  “The Fairhaven doesn’t have sails. There’s no way to steer it,” Susan says.

  “What about an anchor?”

  Susan’s face spasms. “Gary and I ... lost it.” She doesn’t elaborate.

  Kate lets out a long exhale. “Okay. Everyone, gather your things. Pack as much food as you can. Prepare to abandon ship.”

  Susan lets up a wail, but doesn’t contradict Kate. In fact, she’s the first one to scurry across the deck in search of her running pack.

  “Take off your shoes,” Kate orders. “They’ll weigh you down if you try to swim with them. Tie your shoes to your packs so they aren’t lost in the water.”

  Ben beelines to the weapon packs he collected for their mission. They can’t save Alvarez and Fort Ross with running shoes. Next, he strips off his shoes and socks, securing them to the outside of his pack.

  He packed everything into two large backpacks, which he and Caleb had carried to the Fairhaven. They each weigh at least fifty pounds, if not more.

  He pulls on his backpack of gear. If he’s going down, he’s going down fully armed. They can’t go up against Rosario’s people without firearms.

  The deck of Fairhaven is quiet. Everyone is quiet as they gather their things. Kate’s muscles are taut, her eyes fierce as she pulls on her running pack.

  This is the woman who has him in knots. She’s always at her best when her people are threatened. Nothing gets that woman out of a funk like a threat to her family.

  Minutes tick by. They’re caught in a waiting game, stuck in limbo as they wait for the current to carry them as close as possible to the shore.

  “Shit,” Susan screams. “Everyone, hold on!”

  Ben grabs the closest railing as the Fairhaven lurches sideways, grinding against several large rocks. The stern whips around, pushed by the tide. Ben grabs onto the railing to keep from pitching over the side.

  “Drop the packs if they’re too heavy,” Kate tells him and Caleb. “You are both more important than anything in them.”

  Ben doesn’t bother telling her there won’t be anything to use against Rosario if they lose the artillery bags. He plans to do his damnedest to get them to shore. If only because he can’t stand the thought of what will happen to Kate if they fail to rescue Alvarez.

  The wait is agonizing. The waves continue to drive the boat closer to the shore—and subsequently closer to the rocks. The tide beats at it with relentless fists, once again spinning the boat around. The Fairhaven surges, driven straight into two boulders. The boat groans, becoming lodged between the two rocks.

  This is as close are they’re going to get to shore. They’re two hundred yards from land. That’s going to be one hell of a swim with these waves and rocks. It’s going to make Humboldt Bay look like a cakewalk.

  Then comes a sound even worse than the sound of the rudder snapping. The hull groans and squeals. Ben can feel the pressure building—building—

  The hull snaps. Ben can’t see it, but he feels the vibration up through his hands as he grips the railing.

  Susan cries out. “No!”

  “Will the weapons still work if they get wet?” Kate asks him.

  “Yes. So long as we dry them out and clean them well.”

  Her attention is on the shoreline. He doesn’t have to ask what she’s looking at. The rocks. They dot the coastline like zits, some of them as large as the Fairhaven.

  Swimming through that maze will be a bitch. Doing it with the pack full of weapons might be suicide.

  “Drop the artillery bags,” Kate orders. She picks up a length of rope. “Tie the packs to one end.” She looks at Ben. “Are you okay tying the other end around your waist?”

  “So we can fish them out of the water once we’re on shore?”

  “Yeah. That way you can cut it away if you need to. Do you think it will work?”

  He has a better chance of surviving if all he has to contend with is the rope. He can cut through it pretty easily if things get hairy. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Okay. Let’s try it. Don’t drown on me out there.” She squeezes his wrist.

  “Back at you,” he replies. Ben decides not to dwell on the wrist squeeze. Right now, he has to focus on not dying.

  “Everyone, get ready to swim,” Kate calls.

  Fuck. Twice in one day in the water. Ben is not looking forward to this. His only consolation is that this time he doesn’t h
ave to do it in his underwear.

  His body begins to secrete adrenaline, just like it used to do before he went on a mission or into battle. It makes his heart pound and his limbs jittery. He shifts closer to the portside railing, ready to jump when Kate says the word.

  A screech of metal goes up from the Fairhaven. The entire ship shudders. Susan’s shout is drowned out in the noise.

  The shoreline seems a thousand miles away, a maze of jagged rocks standing between them and safety. It will be a miracle if they all make it.

  “We go in groups,” Kate calls. “We look out for one another. Everyone makes it to shore. Understand?” At everyone’s nod, she assigns groups. “Ash and Caleb. Eric and Reed. Susan and Ben.”

  “You’re with us, Mama,” Reed calls.

  Kate nods, grouping herself with Eric and Reed. Ben is relieved. Those two will give their all to get Kate to safety.

  “I don’t want to leave.” Susan wraps her arms around her chest. “The Fairhaven is all Gary and I have. We lost everything in the outbreak.”

  Ben grabs her arm, propelling her to the side of the sinking charter boat. “Your husband survived a fucking great white shark. Are you going to let a swim in the Pacific get the better of you? Man up!”

  His words have the desired effect. Susan’s face hardens, the agony over the loss of the Fairhaven momentarily buried.

  “Stay with me,” Ben tells her. He has no intention of failing Kate. She told him to get Susan to safety and he plans to do just that.

  51

  Swim

  KATE

  I’ve never been much of a swimmer. Sure, my parents made sure I was drown-proofed as a kid. Basically, if someone threw me into a swimming pool, I could swim to the edge and get myself out.

  Which is a far cry from jumping into the rock-riddled waters of the Pacific Ocean coastline.

  The only alternative is going down with a sinking charter boat. Not an option.

  I can’t let my fear show. Everyone is looking to me to get them out of this. Reed and Eric are glued to either side of me, waiting for the command to jump. Caleb and Ash keep glancing in my direction, watching my face. Ben always keeps track of me, even when we’re not on a boat about to sink into the ocean. The only one not paying any attention to me is Susan; she’s too busy fretting over the loss of her boat.