Dorm Life

by Camille Picott

  “You don’t recognize me,” Wheaton replies. “I was too far away for you to see the first time we met. But I know you, Kate.”

  My hackles rise. I know who this guy is. “You’re the gunman from College Creek.”

  “I’m flattered you remember me.”

  “We thought you were dead,” I reply. “We’ve been back to College Creek many times and never seen you.”

  Wheaton shrugs. “I moved weeks ago when I tracked Johnson and his crew back to their nest. I cleared out an apartment that overlooked the backyard of that motherfucker’s den. I had a plan. I was going to go in while they all slept. The night I was going to attack, I saw you crawl under the porch. I decided to wait until you were clear so you didn’t get shot in the crossfire.” His eyes flick to Caleb. “I was going to kill every one of those motherfuckers for what they did.”

  “Caleb didn’t kill any of those College Creek kids,” Ash says.

  “He didn’t pull the trigger,” Wheaton replies. “But when push came to shove, he went with Johnson and Ryan.”

  Caleb pales. There is shame in his eyes. He looks away under the scorn that radiates from Wheaton.

  “Caleb saved my life.” I plant myself between this cranky old man and my soldier. “Johnson would have killed me if not for Caleb. If you have a problem with him, you can turn the fuck around and march yourself back to wherever you came from.”

  Wheaton barks a laugh. “I knew I’d like you.” He grins, but his dark eyes don’t blink as they look into mine. His intensity is unnerving.

  I stare right back at him, refusing to back down. “Tell me what you want.”

  “Like I was saying, I postponed my attack until you were clear. I made plans to go in the next night. As I strapped on my gear, I looked out the window, and what did I see?” He points a finger at me. “I saw you shoving zombies through the back door of the frat house. After that, all I had to do was pull up a chair and watch the show. Their screaming was pure poetry. For that, I salute you.”

  And he does salute me. Right there in the doorway. His hand snaps up and out from his brow in a perfect military salute.

  “But you only had three zombies,” Wheaton continues. “That shouldn’t have been enough to get rid of that viper’s nest. I want to know how you did it. How did you get rid of those fuckers?”

  I consider slamming the door in this whack job’s face, except he’s somehow maneuvered himself between the door and me.

  “Acid,” I say. “I laced a bottle of booze with acid.”

  Wheaton blinks. Stares. Then throws back his head and roars with laughter. He laughs so hard he doubles over. The sound is razor sharp, grating at my ears. He puts one hand out on the doorway to support himself. To my shock, a few tears of mirth slide down his cheeks.

  He laughs, and laughs, and laughs. The sound takes on a maniacal edge. My hand inches toward my knife.

  “And I thought he was scary when he was mad,” Caleb mutters behind me. “This is way scarier.” He’s inched his way forward and planted himself directly to my left. His free hand rests on his gun in a stance that is pure protectiveness.

  “Is he alone?” I whisper to Caleb.

  “Yeah,” Caleb replies. “Johnson killed all the other soldiers who opposed him. He would have killed Wheaton, too, if he hadn’t run.”

  I recall the soldiers we’d seen staked to doors and trees. More of Johnson’s handiwork.

  “Ma’am,” Wheaton says, finally straightening. He huffs a few more times, trying to control his mirth. A few more maniacal laughs bubble up. “Ma’am,” he says again, “I salute you. I. Salute. You.” He rips off another three salutes in my direction.

  “Are we done here?” I ask coldly. I’m ready for this fucker to take a hike.

  “I hope not,” Wheaton replies. “I was hoping you would be so kind as to let me join your band of merry men.”

  “No—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “I don’t come empty-handed.” Wheaton steps to the side.

  Next to the door is a giant tarp. I hadn’t seen it before because of its angle to the door. Wheaton tugs on a string holding the tarp closed. The material crinkles as it falls away.

  In the center of the tarp is a huge pile of food and guns. Wheaton grins at me as he takes in my shock.

  “I’ve been busy,” he replies. “I have three more bundles like this one. My contribution to the band, if you’ll let me join.”

  I might be a newbie when it comes to guns, but I’ve seen enough of them with Caleb and Ash to have a newfound appreciation for firearms. I know a treasure trove when I see one.

  To put off from answering, I ask, “Where did you get all that?”

  Wheaton’s grin broadens. “I may have raided a few military caches. I wanted to make a good first impression when I came calling. This is my way of showing you I’m ready to be a useful member of your tribe. I’ll pull my weight. I’ll cook. Keep watch. Clean up shit. Whatever. But I want to follow the woman who had the balls to take on those little prepubescent fuckers with three zombies and a bottle of acid.”

  I suppose I should be flattered. The guy is paying me a compliment, after all. His intensity is unnerving. He won’t quit staring at me, which makes me wish I’d dyed my roots. Which is stupid. When did I start caring about my bad hair?

  I’m about to turn him away when Caleb edges closer to me. He bumps me with his elbow.

  “He’s good people, Kate,” he murmurs. “He stood up to Johnson. He tried to defend the College Creek kids before things went sideways.”

  Wheaton listens to every word, mouth twisting in distaste.

  I look to Ash, who has shouldered up on my right side. “What’s your opinion of him?” I ask, not bothering to whisper or be discreet. This Wheaton guy needs to know he’s under assessment.

  “He’s a grouchy fucker,” Ash says, “but Caleb is right. He works hard and his compass always points north. He might be an irritating old fuck, but he’ll be a contributing member of our group.” Based on the heat in Ash’s words, I get the feeling she’s wanted to say them for a long time.

  “You’d be grouchy too if you’d spent the last thirty years of your life killing in the name of democracy,” Wheaton replies. “This war is refreshing that way. It’s the first time I’ve killed in the name of humanity. Brings it all home.” He smacks a closed fist over his heart.

  “Can we trust him?” I ask Ash and Caleb. When they both nod, I sigh inwardly.

  I like the little family I’ve collected. We have good synchronicity. I don’t want to change it by adding a new member.

  But Ash and Caleb respect this guy. As much as they dislike him, both think he’ll be a good addition to our group. I can’t deny that we could use a trained military veteran in our midst.

  “You can join us,” I say, “but you fall in line with our routine. Endurance is an essential part of our survival plan. We work out every morning for two to four hours. We spend the rest of our time scavenging and fortifying our home. Sunday is our day of rest.”

  “When we’re not undergoing sleep deprivation training,” Reed adds.

  “When we’re not undergoing sleep deprivation training,” I amend.

  Wheaton’s eyes take on an eerie brightness. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he just perked up at the idea of sleep deprivation training. He’s a little weird, I conclude.

  “If you don’t like the way that sounds, turn around now,” I say, hoping he’ll do just that.

  No such luck.

  “Whatever you say, ma’am,” Wheaton replies. “You have my word that I will follow your orders.”

  “Welcome to Creekside, Ben Wheaton.”

  The kids shift behind me, forming a tunnel so Ben can enter Creekside. Ben laces up his tarp, slinging the rope over one shoulder to haul it inside.

  “Reed!” a new voice rings out.

  The tarp and its contents clatter to the ground. Every person, including Ben, draws a weapon as a dark-haired man scrambles out from
behind a clump of bushes and dead bodies.

  “Reed!” He runs forward and throws himself to his knees before us.

  I realize in shock that this is one of the bastards who locked up Carter, Reed, and Jenna in the rock shop. The guy I beat over the head with a chair. There’s a dent in his forehead, a ripple of skin and bone where I struck him. I can’t believe he’s still alive.

  “Jesus!” Reed pushes his way forward. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Take me in!” Jesus wails. “Tell your Mamita that I’m loyal. I’m handy in a fight and I never, ever turn my back on my people.”

  Mamita. I suppose that’s me. I glare down at the drug dealer. “That’s a bit hard to believe when you pointed a gun at Reed and locked him and his friends up in a closet,” I say coldly.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Reed says. “Jesus is my friend.”

  “He tried to protect us when Rosario’s men started shooting,” Jenna adds.

  “He held you guys at gunpoint,” I argue. “I saw him.”

  Reed waves a hand, moving to stand beside Jesus. “He was just fucking with us. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “You have an interesting definition of friend,” Ben remarks.

  “Jesus went outside to hunt Rosario’s men while we stayed inside,” Carter says. “He tried to protect us.”

  The man clasps both hands before him like he’s praying. Could this day get any weirder?

  “I’ve been on my own out here for weeks,” Jesus says. “I can’t do it anymore. I knew I needed Reed’s Mamita. I came to the campus looking for you.” He turns imploring eyes to Reed. “I need you, brother. Tell her we’re brothers!”

  “We’re brothers,” Reed says, turning an earnest expression to me. “Mama, Jesus is my friend.”

  “This she-wolf nearly beat me to death with a chair to rescue you,” Jesus replies. “She inspires loyalty.” He looks to me again. “I will follow you anywhere, do anything for you. I am your man, Mamita.”

  “You beat this fucker with a chair?” Ben asks.

  “Yeah,” Johnny says. “After she set a building on fire to rescue these guys.” He jerks a thumb in Carter’s direction.

  “That’s not exactly what—” I begin.

  “You have a dent in your forehead,” Reed interrupts, peering at Jesus’s head. “That wasn’t there the last time I saw you.”

  “This is from Mamita.” Jesus reverently touches his scalp.

  “That’s nothing,” Jenna says. “You should see the guys she hit in the face with a cast iron skillet.”

  “Those guys didn’t make it,” Johnny adds.

  Ben’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He gives me another head-to-toe appraisal that makes me feel naked.

  This is all more than I can take. I need to go for a run. A long one.

  “Fuck it,” I say. “Jesus, you can join us. But you play by my rules. You run your ass off every day. You scavenge. You clean. You be a functioning, committed member of our group. If you don’t fall in line, your ass is out. Do you understand?” I feel like a mom grilling a teenager who wants to stay out past curfew for the first time.

  “Just promise you’ll beat someone with a chair for me,” Jesus replies.

  I let out a huff. “If some fucker drags your ass off the street at gunpoint, locks you in a closet, then proceeds to get in a shooting match over a turf war that doesn’t matter anymore, then yes, I will beat someone with a chair for you.”

  “Thank you, Mamita.” Jesus gets to his feet. I’m unnerved to see tears glittering on the edges of his lashes.

  “You might throw up,” Reed says. “I threw up, like, at least five times when I started running. She isn’t joking about the running thing.”

  “I follow Mamita,” Jesus says.

  “I reserve the right to throw chairs at each of you,” I say, pointing to Ben and Jesus in irritation.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ben says, while Jesus says, “Yes, Mamita.”

  “We call her Mama Bear,” Reed says. “You guys need to get used to that.”

  “This is going in the notebook,” Johnny says. “I’m starting a new one. It’s called Dorm Life.”

  “Whatever, dude,” Eric says. “Not like anyone is going to read it.”

  “Dude,” Johnny replies, “you never know. Two hundred years from now an archeology team could come through here to document the outbreak. My notebook could end up in a museum. It could be an international bestseller, like the Diary of Anne Frank.”

  “Now you’re definitely giving yourself too much credit,” Carter says.

  I step to the side, gesturing to Jesus and Ben. “Welcome to Creekside,” I say, hoping I’m not making a mistake. “I hope you’re both ready to be immortalized.”

  Author’s Note

  THANKS SO MUCH FOR picking up a copy of Undead Ultra: Dorm Life! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider leaving an honest online review of Dorm Life. Reviews really help independent authors spread the word about our stories. I sincerely appreciate every review. Each one helps me find more readers.

  Don’t miss out on what happens next to Kate and the Creekside Crew! Grab your copy of Undead Ultra 3: Lost Coast.

  Out of the ashes of the zombie apocalypse, Kate and her small band of survivors have created a life and become a family. They train together, scavenge together, and survive together.

  Their comfortable routine is interrupted by a frantic distress call. When Kate forms a rescue mission, she and her people find themselves faced with the unthinkable: evolved “alpha” zombies capable of organizing hordes of the undead.

  Even worse, the alphas are on the move—and they’re headed straight for the university where the survivors have made their home.

  Can Kate and her people outwit the alpha zombies and save their home? Or will they become part of the undead horde?

  Thanks for being part of the journey!

  To learn more about Camille’s books, visit her website:

  www.camillepicott.com

  You can also connect with Camille on social media.

  Facebook @ultrawriter

  Instagram @camillepicott

  Free Gift: the untold story of Alvarez

  WHEN YOU FIRST MEET Alvarez in Undead Ultra, he’s nothing more than a broken soldier in search of redemption. When he reconnects with Kate on the ham radio later in the series, he’s stepped up to lead a survivalist community.

  How does he transform into a leader of the apocalypse?

  Here is his story.

  Sign up for Camille Picott’s author newsletter and get this exclusive story. It’s not available anywhere else!

  CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to those who shared in the journey of Dorm Life!

  Dani Crabtree

  Victoria DeLuis

  Chris Picott

  Saundra Wright

  Also by Camille Picott

  Nick and Rudy

  Nick and Rudy: A Zombie Apocalypse Christmas Tale

  Psycho Gets Her Man: A Zombie Apocalypse Valentine Tale

  Sulan

  The League

  Risk Alleviator

  The Dome

  Touch

  Escape

  Death Match

  Endgame

  Sulan Series Box Set (Books 1-4)

  Undead Ultra

  Undead Ultra

  Dorm Life

  Lost Coast

  Fort Dead

  Dawn Patrol

  Ultra Couch Potato to Ultra Badass: Your Ultimate Guide to Ultramarathon Training in the Zombie Apocalypse

  Watch for more at Camille Picott’s site.

 

 

 
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