“I know,” he interrupts. “Soon. We’ll attack soon. I want you to be ready.”
He pushes against the screen. I catch it as it pops free.
“Open your hand.”
I extend my palm as Alvarez’s arms slips inside. He drops a handful of nails into my hand.
“You still have that tennis racket you brought to Fort Ross?” he asks.
“Yes.” How does he know about the tennis racket? I haven’t pulled it out since the day I took up residence in this RV with Shaun.
“Good. And you still have that duct tape Shaun used to carry with him on missions?”
That fucking duct tape. Shaun took it everywhere with him even before the world ended. He bought it in bulk at Costco and kept a roll in every suitcase, briefcase, and car. He was always on the lookout for it on scavenging runs.
“Yes. I have two rolls.”
“Good. Use it to fortify the tennis racket with the nails. Be ready.”
I tighten my fist around the nails. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m still working out the details. My trip to you was a test run, to see if we could slip out from under the Rotchev House without being seen.” His mouth stretches into a thin line. “I just proved it’s doable. We can move out under the cover of darkness and recover the weapons we hid.”
He has a plan. It’s a ballsy plan, but it’s not a complete kamikaze mission. “What kind of weapons did you guys hide before Rosario got in here?”
“Lots of metal tools. Hammers. Wrenches. Stuff like that. We have things hidden all over the compound. Everyone is ready to fight.”
They have hammers while Rosario’s people have guns. I swallow. I might be scared for Alvarez, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to fight. It doesn’t change the fact that some of us will have to die to win back our home.
“I’m going back now.” Alvarez squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll regroup with our people and finalize our plans. With any luck, we’ll attack tomorrow night. Just hang on a bit longer. Can you do that?”
I wish they would attack now. It’s the middle of the night and many of Rosario’s people are sleeping. But he’s right. They need time to finalize details of a plan. We’ll only have one shot at this. I need to be patient. I don’t want to endure another minute in this RV, but I will.
Alvarez looks at me with earnest eyes. I see how much my situation pains him.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “You’re the one who has to be careful.”
“We have the element of surprise on our side,” he replies. “They’ll never see us coming.”
“I’ll be ready to kill when you give the signal,” I whisper.
Something swells between us in the dark. Silence stretches. His dark eyes soak me in.
“You’re a warrior, Jessie. A damn fine warrior. Don’t let these assholes take that from you.”
“These assholes,” I grind out in reply, “take nothing from me.”
He flashes me a grin. “I’ll see you soon.” He gives my shoulder one last squeeze, then disappears into the dark.
22
Raining Zombies
KATE
The six of us crouch on the rocky outcropping above the Pacific Ocean. I’d call it a ledge if it wasn’t so uneven and covered with sharp points. It’s ten feet wide at the tips and juts out no more than two feet.
The fire burns above us, pouring heat and smoke over the edge of the cliff. Below us, the ocean pounds away at a rocky shoreline.
There’s nothing for us to do but wait it out.
Does this count as a break? I decide to pretend it’s an aid station on the most fucked up ultra I’ve ever run in my life.
We huddle together. I find the closeness comforting, but the truth is that there isn’t room to be anything but squashed together. I’m sandwiched between Reed and Ben.
I lean my head back against the cliff face and close my eyes. How the fuck are we going to get off this cliff? Going down isn’t an option and the top is at ten feet above us.
I have a wild vision of us standing on one another’s shoulders, Looney-Tunes style, in a desperate bid to escape.
A ball of fire spurts over the cliff side, searing us with heat. We hunch down, doing our best to protect our faces. I squeeze Reed and Ben’s hand, wishing I could do more to protect the two of them. Wishing I could do more to protect all of them.
I look down at my watch. Thirty-two hours. We’ve been on the move for all that time. Alvarez and his people have been at the mercy of Mr. Rosario for eight hours.
My mind replays the series of disasters that have plagued us ever since we left Creekside. Running out of gas in Humboldt Bay. Getting attacked by pirates. Our boat getting destroyed by zombies in the rudder. Our subsequent shipwreck on the Lost Coast. The impassable tidal zone, hypothermia, and bear attack all seem like a really twisted joke.
We haven’t had a break since we stepped foot on Highway 1. Between zombies, bridges, and fires, it’s done its best to eat us alive.
And now here we are, huddling on a tiny outcropping, held hostage between the sea and the inferno.
A growl sounds above us. I look up just in time to see a zombie totter over the side of the cliff. Flames lick across his shirt.
He falls straight for us.
“Incoming!” Ben bellows. “Look out!”
The zombie crashes down on top of Ash.
Ben and Caleb act fast, the two of them like a well-oiled machine. Caleb stabs the zombie in the face while Ben grabs it by the ankles and flings it over the edge. Ash shrieks, batting at the bits of flame that sprang up on her shoulder. Eric jumps in and smothers it with his backpack.
“Are you okay?” Caleb grabs Ash by her good arm and turns her so he can inspect her shoulder.
“Si.” Her voice is shaky as she bats at the burned fabric. Beneath it is red, blistered flesh.
“Let me see.” Ben pulls out a small first aid kit. He cuts away the burned fabric, applies ointment to her wound, and wraps it with a clean bandage.
As he works, another zombie pitches over the cliff. It’s twenty feet away, burning from head to toe. It plummets into the ocean below, hissing all the way down.
“Um, guys? There’s more.” Reed raises a finger, pointing to the line of tottering bodies above us.
There’s at least a dozen of them. As we watch, another two fall off the ledge, burning as they fall into the ocean.
“Fuck me.” Ben glares up at the clifftop. “Zombie rain.”
One by one, they continue to walk over the edge. Most of their falls are silent, accompanied only by the customary growling and snarling. They’re smashed to pieces on the rocks below, blood and body parts littering the shoreline. If I had any notions of trying to climb down, the pulverized zombies change my mind.
Luckily, no others land on our tiny little slice of the world, though there isn’t one of us who doesn’t keep an eye toward the sky.
There’s nothing to do except wait out the firestorm. Fire and ash rain down on us. Smoke pours over the side of the cliff in a gray-and-white tumble.
We all cough. I pull my shirt up over my nose to block out the worst of it. The others do the same, a few of them pulling out bandanas.
“Put water on the cloth you’re breathing through,” Ben says. He takes a drink out of his pack and spits the water out on his bandana.
I squint my eyes in an effort to protect them from the smoke and ash. Of all the things I’ve encountered on a run, this is the first time I’ve come up against a wildfire.
We huddle together, waiting out the firestorm. It feels like days. According to my watch, several hours have passed.
We might die out here. Right here, on this ledge over the ocean with fire raging above us. I squeeze Ben’s hand and lean into him. He puts his arm around me and holds me tight, resting his forehead against the back of my neck.
I regret not taking advantage of the big bed when I had the chance with him. I’d let my brain get in the way. I make a
silent promise not to let that happen again. If I have the chance to be with him—even if it’s on some dirty floor in a cold shed—I’m not going to miss out.
“Did you guys feel that?” Ash holds out both hands. “Is that rain?”
I squint into the smoke. A second later, a cold sting hits the top of my head. Another few seconds pass. Three drops hit the narrow space between me and Ben.
“God damn,” Ben exclaims. “We may survive after all.” He plants a kiss on my lips.
I’m so relieved that I grab him around the neck and kiss him back, just because I can. Because we’re both alive.
“Good thing we got chased by zombies and fire,” Reed remarks. “If not for near-death experiences, you two would never make out.”
Good-natured laughter fills the air. I can’t help laughing myself as I squeeze Ben tight with both arms.
The rain begins to fall in cold earnest. Thunder rolls through the sky, sending vibrations through the earth.
Never in my life have I been so happy for rain. I turn my face skyward, letting the fat, cold drops hit my skin. A fork of lightning flashes above us.
The wind picks up, whipping across our bodies. It isn’t long before we’re all shivering in the rain. I crane my neck, trying to gauge the severity of the fire above us.
The heat of the flames is gone. The ash that falls is sodden. There’s still smoke, though most of it has turned into steam.
We have to get off this ledge and find shelter, or we’re all going to be hypothermic. It would be nice to have a day where we’re not being yo-yoed between hypothermia and burning to death.
I shield my eyes from the ash and study the cliff face. “Any of you expert rock climbers?”
Five pairs of eyes turn in my direction. Everyone shakes their heads.
“All right,” I mutter. “Looney Tunes escape plan it is.” I survey our group. “Caleb, Reed.” I gesture to the two young men. They’re the tallest among us. Reed is the lighter of the two, his build lean while Caleb is the stronger.
“Caleb, you need to boost Reed up to the road. Reed, once you get to the top, you’re going to have pull us up, one by one.”
They stare at me.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Caleb says.
“Dead serious. Unless one of you knows someone who can pick us up in a helicopter, that’s the only way any of us is getting off this ledge.”
“I can always count on a big dose of crazy with you.” Ben slaps me on the shoulder. To the rest, he barks, “What you waiting for? You heard the woman. Let’s get the fuck off this ledge.”
23
Wet Run
ERIC
Sooty, scraped, and exhausted, the six of us soon find ourselves back on Highway 1.
The beams of our headlamps reveal road scarred with ash. All the grassland on the east side of the road has been reduced to scorched earth. The wildfire tore through everything in sight, turning the land black. A quarter mile down the road is an abandoned car that’s been reduced to a crispy shell. Farther down the road is the remains of a house that still flickers with flame.
Smoke and steam trail into the sky amid the wet sky. Despite the chill that’s settled into my body, I feel nothing but whole-hearted love for the rain. I’d rather be cold and drenched than dead.
“Now what?” Ben asks.
“Now?” Kate wipes rainwater out of her eyes. “Now, we run. The town of Mendocino is only a few miles away. We can look for shelter and regroup once we get there.”
We slog down the road at a steady lope. Grit and ash rush down the road as rain sloughs down. Water splashes up with every step I take. I’m forced to shorten the angle of my headlamp to better see the road directly in front of me through the rain. The hat I picked up in Braggs keeps my glasses from being a smeary mess.
Zombie corpses are everywhere. Huge piles of them litter the road in charred heaps.
“That’s an efficient way to get rid of zoms,” Ben says as we veer around a pile of bodies.
“Yeah, if you’re not worried about burning your town down,” Reed replies.
The rain is miserable. I narrow my focus to the road, concentrating on each step. One foot in front of the next. It’s the only thing I can do. It’s what Kate taught me to do.
My fingers are the first things to go numb, followed shortly by my toes, then both of my feet. Black water splashes up from the road with every step, soaking me all the way up to my waist. The windbreaker I’d donned in Braggs is plastered to my body.
Lila never would have made it out here.
I hate the thought as soon as it forms. Yes, Lila didn’t handle the apocalypse well. Yes, at one point it got so bad she refused to leave Creekside. Yes, there were days when she wouldn’t even leave our dorm room.
I wrote her off. I hate myself for that. In my mind, I never saw her surviving more than a year. Two, tops.
Sometimes, it feels like she’s still here. Her almond eyes—always alive with fear—follow me around like hunting hounds.
It had been like that when she was alive. Looking at her was like staring fear in the face.
The only exception was when she argued with me. Whenever we bickered, she didn’t look afraid. That was part of the reason why I liked riling her up. It was also fun to banter with her, but mostly I liked seeing her not afraid.
Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. I focus on the essential rhythm of moving forward.
The road seems to stretch on, and on, and on. It doesn’t help that rain clouds have blotted out all the stars. If not for our six headlamps, we’d be in complete darkness.
I think about Fort Ross, about the people counting on us. I might be wet, cold, and tired, but at least I’m not being held at gunpoint. I have it easy in comparison. What’s a little physical discomfort in comparison to the hell they’re probably enduring right now?
A green road sign leaps out of the darkness, the reflective letters catching the headlight beams.
Mendocino. Population 1,008.
A large house comes into view. It looks like it may have been a bed and breakfast, gauging by the burned sign in front of the two-story gingerbread house. Though the building wasn’t completely destroyed by the fire, it doesn’t look entirely stable, either.
“Stay alert,” Kate calls. “Be on the lookout for anything that looks safe enough to give us some shelter.”
The downpour coats my skin with an icy overcoat. My fingers shake with cold. Only running keeps me from succumbing to the chill completely.
My friends don’t look any better. They’re all as numb and exhausted as I am.
Then I see another green road sign. Even through the rain slurring my glasses, it’s impossible to miss.
Fort Ross. 75 miles.
I stop dead, staring at the sign. Everyone halts in the middle of the road, all of us taking in the enormity of that green sign.
Seventy-five miles. I swallow. We’ve probably already gone over forty on foot.
Do we have another seventy-five miles in us?
The doubt feels like a betrayal of Kate and everything she’s done for us. I know better than to let that kind of thinking sneak in. Kate warned us about it many times.
Ultras are finished with the mind, not the body. How many times has Kate said that to us? More times than I can count. If she says we can run another seventy-five miles, that’s what we’ll do.
“Look.” Kate raises a hand, pointing through the damp. She adjusts her headlamp, sending the beam out into the darkness. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of the rain and regroup.”
It takes me a minute to see what she’s talking about. I’m looking for a building or a house of some sort, but I don’t see any.
Then I spot it. In a roadside turnout is a big blue semi-truck with orange flames on the side. The trailer is scorched black from the wildfire, but the cab is miraculously intact. Not only will it get us out of the rain, it will keep us safe from any stray zombies that might be around.
I pick up the pace, angling toward the semi.
Ben is the first of us to reach it. The side of the driver’s door is painted with the words Wild Thing. The edges of the letters are highlighted with flames.
He has a knife out when he opens the door. A zombie in a bloody flannel tumbles out, snarling and raking the air with stubby hands. Ben makes short work of it with a knife through its nose. When no other zombies emerge, we clamber inside.
The stench of rot is strong inside the semi, but we’re all used to it by now. There’s a small bed in the back of the truck cab. I pile onto it with Reed, Caleb, and Ash. Ben and Kate take the front seats.
The first thing I do is take off my shoes and turn them upside down. A stream of water runs out of them. I root around in my running pack. The extra pair of socks I packed are also wet. Oh, well. Not that I really had a chance at having dry feet with that rainstorm outside. At least it’s not drumming down on my head anymore.
I peel off my shirt, attempting to wring out the damp. I glance up to see Ben and Kate staring at each other. He’s in the sweatpants he picked up in Braggs; she’s in a sports bra and stretchy black pants. Both are shivering like the rest of us. From the looks on both their faces, the gap between the two front seats may as well be the English Channel.
“I forgot my Dating for Dummies handbook back at Creekside,” Reed says, twisting his shirt between both hands. “But I read that thing cover to cover five times and I know for a fact that on page one-hundred sixty-seven, it says you can hold your woman when you’re both half naked and shivering. It’s totally legit. Even with all of us around.”
Ben flushes and grumbles a string of curse words. Kate wrinkles her nose with embarrassment before sidling out of the driver’s seat and into Ben’s lap.
These two might be the oldest among us, and they might be apocalypse badasses, but they’re worse than teenage virgins. If not for that bear, I’m not sure they’d have ever gotten together.
Fort Dead Page 14