Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  Ben. My chest seizes. Where is he?

  I rotate my head to the left and right, scanning the waves.

  There. I see them. They paddle beside one another, pushing hard for the shore.

  The pain in my feet becomes inconsequential. I shed my pack and rush forward, splashing up to my knees in the surf.

  Susan and Ben ride the waves. A swell picks them up, hurling both straight toward the shore.

  I jump toward Ben, latching onto his arm as he surges by. Caleb appears out of nowhere, grabbing Susan. The two of us hold onto our friends, keeping them from doing a face plant into the rocky shore.

  Ben manages to get his legs underneath him, locking wobbly knees as the tide rushes back out.

  He coughs up water. Leaning on his knees, he vomits up what seems like half the ocean. His chest heaves as he straightens.

  “I’ve never been much of a swimmer,” he gasps.

  I give his arm an encouraging squeeze. “Join the club. Come on, let’s get the weapons in.”

  Together, we haul on the rope still tied to his belt. The pack catches a few times on the rocks, but with a little patience, the ebb of the tide eventually brings it to us.

  My teeth chatter as I stand there in sopping wet clothes. Ben shivers beside me.

  “If I was good with words, I’d find a subtle way to put my arm around you,” he says, teeth chattering. “We both know how well that would go so I’m just gonna lay it out straight. I’m freezing my balls off. Can I put my arm around you?”

  I can’t help it. I bark a laugh. Ben does that eye-crinkle thing again, swinging the sopping weapons pack onto his back.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Only because you’re freezing your balls off. If it was any other appendage you’d be out of luck.”

  “Look at that,” Caleb says. “One of your moves finally paid off, old man.”

  I’d forgotten he was standing here, but I’m too cold to care. Ben flips him the bird and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his side.

  Truth be told, it doesn’t help. I’m still freezing. But it feels good to have him touch me.

  I haven’t been touched—really touched—since Kyle died. It’s been almost three years. It makes me realize how lonely I’ve been. I relax against Ben as we join the rest of the group against the face of the cliff, enjoying this odd moment between us.

  The rest of the group is huddled together. The beach is strewn with debris. Driftwood, lumps of seaweed, and even the bodies of unfortunate sea creatures. A half-decayed bird carcass is tangled in a clump of seaweed. Dead starfish and purple sea urchins dot the rocks. I even spot the scattered bones of long-dead animals.

  Past the crashing waves, I see the angles of the sinking ship. Susan watches in stony silence. I can’t tell if it’s tears or seawater streaking her cheeks.

  “The Fairhaven was everything to us,” she says to no one in particular, voice dull. “All our savings. Our home. Our livelihood.”

  No one says anything. I search for the right words. In some ways, it feels like another fatality. I know it’s only a boat, but to Susan, it’s so much more than that. Hell, to all of us it’s more than just a boat. It was our way to Alvarez.

  It was our way back to Arcata.

  Another fatality on my shoulders. If I hadn’t insisted on trying to help Alvarez, Leo would still be alive. The Fairhaven would still be in one piece.

  “It was a total bitch to get to the boat from Creekside anyway,” Reed says after a few moments of extended, glum silence. “If I had to cross Samoa Highway one more time, I was gonna go postal.”

  This breaks up the tension. It also, unfortunately, brings up the next question.

  “Now what?” Caleb asks.

  Everyone looks at me.

  Yeah, now what, Mama Bear? I think bitterly. Here I thought I’d be a knight in shining armor rescuing Alvarez and the residents of Fort Ross. All I’ve managed to do is get some of my people killed and strand the rest on a deserted beach.

  I look at my watch. Nine hours have passed. The first of Alvarez’s people will be executed in fifteen hours. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  I don’t know where we are, but we must be at least a hundred miles away from Fort Ross, probably farther. My people could make the journey, but at what cost? How many others will I lose?

  “This isn’t what you guys signed up for,” I say. “We’ve had nothing but disaster since we set out from Creekside. Everything has been complete shit and we haven’t even gone very far. And now we’re beached like dead whales who-knows-where.” Anger creeps into my voice, frustration over our situation. “I have no idea how to get home. I have no idea how to get to Fort Ross.”

  I sweep my gaze over each face. Susan stares at her sinking boat. I think half her heart is still on the Fairhaven. Reed and Eric watch me with blind loyalty. I have no doubt they’ll follow wherever I lead. Their devotion is a heavy weight to bear.

  Ash and Caleb aren’t much different. When they look at me, they see their leader.

  And then there’s Ben. I may not know how to handle the attraction between us, but I have no doubt he’ll go wherever I lead.

  I can’t do this. I can’t drag them into more danger. The price has already been too high.

  “Home.” The word is dragged from my throat. “We need to figure out a way home.”

  I expect sighs of relief. I expect a few them to be happy the crazy train is turning around.

  “That’s not what you really want to do,” Ben says. “Don’t lie to us.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t drag you guys on foot all the way to Fort Ross. It’s—Susan, how far is it?”

  She shrugs, turning away from the water. “Hundred miles, give or take.” Rummaging around in her pack, she pulls out the sodden tide book and a crinkled map. “Let me figure out where we are.”

  “You don’t know?” Ben asks her. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

  “Getting shot at and driving through a zombie drag net may have fucked up on my concentration,” Susan shoots back.

  Surprise registers on Ben’s face; the idiot is no doubt just realizing he was being an ass. I step between them in an effort to spare them both.

  “It’s not fair for me to drag you guys a hundred miles into a war that might be lost by the time we get there,” I say.

  “It probably won’t be lost.” Ben surprises me with his optimism.

  “You—you don’t think so?”

  He shrugs. “There will just be a bigger shit hole to dig them out of.”

  Now there’s the cynicism I’ve come to expect.

  “Leo wanted Rosario taken down,” Ash says. “If we turn back now, he’ll have died for nothing.”

  “If we turn back now, I sacrificed the Fairhaven for nothing.” Susan’s jaw is set in a hard line as she grips the edges of her soggy map. “I know everyone here has lost a home. I shouldn’t be such a baby about it. But dammit, I loved—love—that boat. If I have to face Gary and tell him it’s gone, I want it to be for a good reason.”

  “They need us,” Reed says. “Alvarez is our friend. You said he saved your life.”

  “He did, but—”

  “Foot Soldier saved my mama. Life for a life. Let’s go get his sorry ass and kill those fuckers who want to steal his house.”

  “Fort,” Eric corrects. “It’s a frontier fort, Reed, from—”

  “Dude, you know what I mean!”

  “Don’t quit on us now,” Ash says. “You’re our Mama Bear. Mama Bear doesn’t quit when things are hard and scary. Hell, you went unarmed into the frat house and delivered that bottle of brandy laced with acid. This is practically a cakewalk compared to that. Tell me I’m wrong.” Her eyes narrow at me in challenge.

  My throat tightens. Emotion presses against the back of my eyes. I try one more time. “This has been nothing but a shit show since we left Creekside—”

  “And it’s going to be a shit show no matter what d
irection we go.” Eric leans forward. “You’ve trained us for this, Kate. We’re ready to make this journey. We can get to Fort Ross in, what? A day if we push hard? Maybe two?”

  “Two at most,” Reed agrees. “I’m pretty sure Alvarez would rather us be fashionably late than not show up at all.”

  I draw in a long, slow breath. When I cast my eyes around the circle, I see six people ready to walk into hell. Or run into hell, if I’m being accurate.

  “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”

  People slap one another on the back and grin. Reed wraps me in a bear hug.

  So much for trying to do the right thing.

  “If there are survivors at Fort Ross, we save them,” Ben says. “And if there are no survivors, we eliminate every last one of Rosario’s people.”

  “Even if we have to burn down Fort Ross to do it,” I add.

  This time, Caleb gives me a bear hug. “That’s the Mama Bear we know and love. Did you bring any acid?”

  I punch him lightly on the shoulder as everyone laughs.

  “We build a fire and take a one-hour break to dry and get warm,” I say. “Then we get moving. We need to cover as much ground as we can before the sun goes down.”

  We break into small groups. I stray away by myself to gather driftwood and dry seaweed, needing to think. Our journey is not going to be easy. I need to—

  “Guys!” It’s Reed. “Look what I found.”

  Reed holds a long piece of driftwood in one hand, holding it over a small exposed section of sand about twenty feet away.

  Approaching him, I spot the biggest footprint I’ve ever seen. It’s round, four inches across the widest part with five giant toes.

  A chill crawls up my spine that has nothing to do with my damp clothing or the coastal breeze.

  “I was just taking a piss when I noticed it,” Reed explains, using his free hand to gesture with excitement. “I mean, what are the chances I’d find it? There’s hardly any exposed sand out here. Do you think—?”

  “Oh, shit.” Susan’s words crackle.

  I stiffen, turning sharply in her direction. “What?”

  “Motherfucker.” She stares at the map in horror. “We’re in one of the impassable zones of the Lost Coast.”

  “What?” My stomach flip-flops. “What makes you say that?”

  Susan spreads the sodden map out on the ground, weighing the corners down with rocks. The rest of us gather around for a closer look.

  “See here and here?” Susan taps two curves of the coastline on the map. “That the spit of land you see there”—she points to a jetting cliff just north of us—“is this point. And that point to the south of us is right here.” Again, she shows us a place on the map. “We’re in the southern impassable zone of the Lost Coast.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Is there any chance you could be mistaken?”

  “Even without the map, the signs are all here,” Susan replies. “That footprint Reed found belongs to a black bear. Bears live on the Lost Coast. Plus there are all the dead animals on the beach.” Her eyes are anguished as she gestures to the dead bird, the many animal bones, and the dried up sea urchins and starfish. “The impassable zone is infamous for killing everything. I’m so sorry. I should have been paying better attention. Now the tide is coming in ...”

  I momentarily stop breathing. She’s right. The tide has been creeping in ever since we arrived. I don’t need a tide chart to see the strip of land between the cliffs and the water is narrowing.

  This is bad. Very, very bad.

  “Fuck,” I breathe.

  The Lost Coast is legendary in the ultrarunning world. Frederico and I had spent our fair share of time dreaming about it and pouring over its details on the Internet. We’d talked on and off over the years about running here, but never got organized enough to do it.

  The complete trail is a little over fifty miles. Experienced backpackers will take six to eight days to complete the route. Ballsy ultrarunners will do it in one day, but not without meticulous planning around the tide.

  The Lost Coast is famous for its rocky beaches, remote tranquility, and wildlife. Most specifically, it’s known for its impassable tidal zones, areas of the trail that get completely covered with waves and riptides at high tide.

  And we’re standing in one.

  52

  Tide

  KATE

  “Will someone please explain what the fuck is going on?” Ben demands.

  “What the hell is an impassable zone?” Eric asks.

  “I’ll tell you as we go.” I turn to the group. “Everyone, grab your shit and get your shoes on. You have three minutes. Go.”

  “Shit-shit-shit!” Susan yells. “We’re going to die out here.”

  “We’re not going to die,” I snap. “Get your shoes on, Susan.”

  I hurry to pull sodden socks out of my pack and shove my feet into equally sodden running shoes.

  Ben and Caleb fasten on the large bags laden with weapons. Damn. I wish there was time to rearrange all the gear so they didn’t have the lion’s share of the burden.

  “Everyone, fall into line single file behind me,” I say. “Reed, you’re my strongest runner. You bring up the rear. It’s your job to make sure no one falls behind. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Reed takes his place at the back of the pack, solemn in his assignment. He might be a goofball much of the time, but he knows when it’s time to drop the act and put on his game face.

  “Everyone listen to me very closely,” I continue. “We are in a very dangerous section of Northern California. It’s called the Lost Coast. It’s so rugged that when they built Highway 1, the authorities decided it was too treacherous and that it was just easier to divert inland. And those guys had dynamite and heavy equipment.

  “There are several sections of the Lost Coast trail that are impassable at high tide. People have died out here. The tide is rising. This section of the beach will soon be completely covered in seawater. If you don’t drown in the high waters, the rip tides will suck you out to sea.”

  “How long is this section?” Caleb asks.

  From everything I had read on the Lost Coast, the two impassable sections are each about four miles long. I turn to Susan for verification. “Four miles?”

  “Thereabout.” She’s once again gripping her red hair in her hands.

  “We have to run,” I say. “The rocks are going to make this hard. This is nothing like running on the track, or even around the streets with zombies. Keep your eyes on the ground. Always track one to two steps ahead to make sure you don’t fall or roll an ankle. Whatever you do, haul ass. Susan, how much time do we have before the tide is fully in?”

  “An hour?” Susan looks at us helplessly. “Not much more than that.”

  “Got that?” I sweep my eyes over my people. “One hour. It will be a hard hour. Run hard. Remember, keep your eyes one to two steps ahead of where you plan to step. Let’s move.”

  To the average person, running fifteen-minute miles might sound like a piece of cake. Hell, even at a fast stroll a person should be able to walk a mile in fifteen minutes.

  But we’re on a beach. There is no beach in the world where a runner will be as fast as he is on pavement.

  This particular beach, with its jumble of sea-tossed rocks, is even worse.

  Even though I told the group we have to run, true running isn’t possible. There’s no way to establish an even gait with the uneven terrain. It’s more like loping strides as we leap among the rocks.

  We haven’t gone more than fifty feet before someone behind me goes down with a yell.

  It’s Susan.

  “I’m fine.” She staggers to her feet, favoring one ankle. “Twisted my foot on a rock.”

  I give her my best Mama Bear look. “You have to ignore the pain,” I tell her. “Don’t focus on it. Focus on getting the fuck off this stretch of land and into the safe zone. You got it?”

  I don’t wait for her to respond. T
here is no time to baby anyone out here. If I let up, we could all die.

  The water edges inexorably closer as we run. I try not to look at the patch of giant boulders that approaches ahead of us, all of them hugging the tall cliffs. As the water creeps closer, it will force us onto those large rocks.

  Fear pounds in my temples. I push as hard as I dare, slowed by the rocks underfoot. Breath saws in and out of my lungs, partly from exertion, partly from fear.

  A shout goes up behind me. I turn in time to see Ash go down. A wave drenches her. Eric and Caleb haul her to her feet. She splutters, wiping salt spray out of her eyes.

  “I’m fine,” she gasps, face set with determination. “I just slipped.” There is blood on her hands where she caught herself on the rocks, but otherwise she looks okay.

  I nod and plow onward, focusing on the terrain right in front of me.

  How are Ben and Caleb faring with the weapon packs? A glance over my shoulder shows them keeping pace, but how long can they keep it up? The weapons won’t mean a thing if we drown out here trying to hang onto them. We can find other weapons. We can make other weapons. And I still have the alpha zom recording.

  I open my mouth, ready to tell Ben and Caleb to ditch the bags. Just as I do, a giant wave looms up, foamy fingers reaching for me.

  It crashes down over my head, sucking my feet out from under me. Water gushes down my throat and nose. I tumble sightlessly through the waves.

  Rocks scrape against my back. A scream tries to force its way out of my mouth. All I get is another lungful of water.

  My eyes sting from the saltwater. All around me is cold and blackness.

  53

  Sprint

  BEN

  It’s a stop-action horror movie unfolding right before his eyes.

  Ben sees the wave coming. He sees Kate standing in its path.

  He opens his mouth, but there’s no time to shout a warning.

  One second Kate is standing there. The next second, she’s gone.

  His entire world stops spinning. No. She can’t be gone.