Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  “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, keeping 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 have 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.

  Time is running out. If I delay any longer, someone is going to drown. Someone might drown anyway.

  Don’t think like that, I chastise myself. We’re all going to make it. Even if I have to drag one of my companions by the hair, I’m going to make sure every one of us gets safely to the shore.

  “We should be happy it’s not raining,” Eric says. “That would really suck.”

  “Dude, way to see the glass half full on a boat sinking into the ocean.” Reed and Eric exchange high fives.

  “Can we save the high fives for the beach?” Caleb growls.

  “We might not all have hands to high-five with by the time we get to shore,” Reed argues. Despite his light tone, the whites show all the way around his eyes. He’s as terrified as the rest of us. “Eric and I were just seizing the moment. Carpe diem and all that.”

  Time to put a stop to the pointless banter before someone ends up with a fist in his face. Judging by the tension knotting Caleb’s shoulders, that could be any second now.

  “Everyone makes it to shore alive.” I make my voice firm, giving everyone my mother-knows-best confident look. “We take care of one another, and we all survive. We jump on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three!”

  I grab the railing with one hand and fling myself over the side. I scream all the way down. Which isn’t very far.

  There are a lot of warm oceans in the world. Florida, Hawaii, Mexico, and Southern California to name a few.

  Northern California doesn’t make the list. Not by a long shot, and not at any time of the year.

  The current hits me like a fist, frigid water closing over my head in a burst. Cold shoots all the way to my core, numbing me almost instantly.

  The ocean soaks my running pack, seawater saturating the light fabric and everything inside. The pack pulls at my shoulders, creating resistance as I kick upward.

  My head breaks the surface, bare feet and arms churning to keep me afloat. Salt stings my eyes. I turn in a quick circle, making a scan for all my people.

  Reed and Eric are with me in the water. Ash and Caleb are ten feet in front of us, the two of them already swimming toward the shore with long, sure strokes.

  Ben and Susan are nowhere in sight.

  I spin around, looking back up to the boat. Ben is at the railing, yelling for Susan to hurry. She appears seconds later, red hair blowing in every direction.

  Big bubbles push to the surface of the water, air pockets from the boat as it sinks from the tear in the hull.

  “Jump,” I shout to them.

  Susan turns, moving away from the railing. Ben grabs her, scooping her up. She yells and struggles. Ben drops her over the edge and leaps into the water after her.

  “Go,” I say to Reed and Eric, not waiting to see Susan and Ben surface. They’re both in the water; I have to trust they’ll help each other to shore. “Swim!”

  The two of them break into an awkward simulation of the freestyle. It looks more like a glorified dog paddle. My own movements are no better.

  Waves knock me in every direction; sometimes forward, sometimes backward, sometimes sideways. My eyes sting from the saltwater. It’s so cold I can hardly breathe.

  At one point, a pair of waves smashes me and Eric into one another. I grunt, the impact with Eric shoving me under. I kick back to the surface later, fighting my way forward.

  “Rock,” Reed screams. “Rock!”

  I turn my head just in time to see an angular black form. It’s right in front of me.

  My heart pounds. I jerk, swimming as hard as I can to the right, trying to cut around the rock. Water surges. My shoulder and rib cage connect painfully with the stone.

  My bare feet scrape against the rock. Pain spiders through me. I use the contact to push free, shoving myself out and away from the rock. Another swell lifts me, threating to suck me backwards into the rock. I kick with my legs and pull with my arms, straining to break free.

  I burst past the swell just in time. It bursts against the rock. The rebound force pushes me forward, another five feet closer to the shore.

  I keep swimming, flicking my eyes in search of Eric and Reed. They’re five feet in front of me, both pushing hard for the shore. Reed’s head swivels as he searches for me.

  “Right behind you!” My shout swirls away in the crashing waves. I’m not sure if Reed heard me until I see him turn his att
ention back to the shoreline.

  My legs and arms burn from the exertion. My eyes sting from the assault of saltwater. I cough and splutter each time a wave hits me in the face, choking on the briny water that inevitably creeps into my mouth and down my throat.

  My running pack drags on me, weighing me down. I grit my teeth, refusing to cast it aside. Losing it could mean dying.

  One hundred yards, I tell myself. That’s how far it is to the shoreline. What’s one hundred yards compared to a one-hundred-mile race?

  Piece of cake. I’ve got this.

  Another wave crashes over my head, pushing me down.

  One hundred yards. So what if I feel like a drowned rat? I’ve trained for this my entire life, albeit on land instead of in water. I can do this. Pain and physical discomfort is nothing but an inconvenience. It can’t stop me.

  Something scrapes against my feet. A swell flings me forward. I sprawl onto my stomach, the water pushing my body over a jumble of fist-sized rocks.

  A yowl bursts from my lungs. Water crashes over my head, causing me to choke on another mouthful of seawater. It shoves me hard against the rocks. They scrape against my ribs and knees.

  Someone grabs my left arm. Someone else grabs my right. I sputter, spitting out water as Eric and Reed haul me to my feet. The side of Reed’s face is bloody, blood running out of his nose and along the side of his face from a bad scrape. Half of Eric’s shirt is torn, blood staining the edges of the fabric.

  I latch onto my boys, letting them help me over the rocks. The three of us huddle together against the sheer cliff face that borders the beach.

  I suck in great gulps of air, wiping water that drips into my eyes. “You guys okay?”

  Even as I ask the question, I scan the shoreline. Nearby, Caleb and Ash climb out of the water, holding onto one another as though the wind might whip them apart. They wrestle with the rope attached to Caleb’s belt, hauling in the weapons pack. Ash sports gashes on both knees.

  Ben. Susan. They aren’t here yet.

  I pick my way back toward the waves, large rocks stabbing at the bare soles of my feet. Every step hurts. It feels like the stones are trying to punch through my skin.