Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  Ben doesn’t want Ash to die. He scans the landscape, looking for any place that might offer enough shelter for them to build a fire and get warm. Hell, he wouldn’t mind a fire right about now. Or a break.

  “You should tell her how you feel,” Ash says.

  Ben grunts. He wants to pretend he doesn’t know what Ash is talking about, but what’s the point? “She knows.”

  Ash looks at him. Her lips are pale, her cheeks a fleshy white. “You should tell her again.” Her teeth chatter. “If we die out here, you don’t want the words to go unsaid.”

  Ben has nothing to say to that.

  58

  Pain Cave

  KATE

  I don’t let them stop. Even though fatigue is in every line of their faces. Even though their shoulders droop and their steps are sluggish. Even though Reed can’t get his stomach under control and staggers along like an animated doll, barely able to keep water down.

  Things are only going to get worse. Our only hope is to get the hell off this trail. Off this trail, and into a house where we can get everyone warm and dry.

  My people stretch out in a line behind me, laboring up a long climb as rain drizzles down. I shine my headlamp down the trail behind me, conducting a quick count to confirm I haven’t lost anyone. My gaze flicks over Ben as he power hikes with Ash at the back of the pack.

  Worry for our situation helps me ignore how conflicted I feel about Ben. I don’t know if turning him down was the smartest or dumbest thing I’ve ever done. It’s easier not to think about it.

  Caleb is the nearest to me. His shoulders are hunched, his face set in a grimace of discomfort as he pushes up a hill.

  I drop back to check on him. “Hey, Caleb.”

  “Hey.” Caleb braces his hands against his thighs, using them to help leverage himself up the long climb. “I can’t believe you did this shit for fun. It sucks ass.”

  Sweat drips down his temples, mingling with the rain. His breathing is labored, fogging against the cold air. The hair on his legs is stuck full of trail flotsam: burrs, foxtails, cuts from the thistles, and ... damn.

  “Hold up, Caleb. There’s a tick on your leg.” The tiny black bug is nestled right above his sock. I crouch down and pick it off, squishing it between my fingers.

  His grimace deepens. “You look like you’ve done that before.”

  “A few times, yeah. I’ve already picked two off myself.” I give the rest of his legs a quick check. “All clear. I don’t see any more.”

  He continues to labor up the trail. “Does this fucking thing have a top?” he demands. “I think my legs are going to fall off.”

  I recognize his state. It happens to everyone in an ultra. He’s in the pain cave, a place of mental and physical misery. So much of ultrarunning is a head game. I need to figure out a way to pull him out of his funk.

  “I didn’t tell you guys the truth about the southern half of the Lost Coast,” I say.

  “What’s that?”

  “It has over ten thousand feet of vertical climbing.”

  “Is that a lot?”

  I chuckle. “Oh, yeah. On a scale of one to five, one being easy and five being difficult, the southern half of the Lost Coast is a six. That’s good news for you.”

  He snorts. “How so?”

  “It means you’ll have major bragging rights when we finish. Like, pound-your-fist-on-your-chest kind of bragging rights.”

  All that gets is a grunt. We plow up the hill side by side. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something else to distract him.

  “If you could eat one thing right now, what would it be?” I ask.

  “Medium-rare prime rib with a mountain of horseradish,” he replies without hesitation. “I haven’t had decent beef since the start of the apocalypse.”

  We haven’t had any fresh meat in months. “I think I’d have chicken,” I say. “One of those rotisserie ones stuffed with rosemary, lemon, and garlic. Now that we have a wall at Creekside, we should find some chickens.”

  “I’d rather have a cow or two.”

  “Okay. Let’s see what we can figure out.”

  “Can I tell you something?” His voice comes out with a wheeze. “I’m pissed off at you for not making us run more stairs. Like, really pissed.”

  “Really?” I wipe rain out of my eyes. “That can be arranged when we get back to Arcata.”

  That gets a small smile out of him. “I hate stair repeats. Can I tell you something else?”

  “What?”

  “I’m so fucking hungry that I’m considering eating some of these plants. I’m trying to imagine the ferns are miniature green cows.”

  I understand the feeling. Hunger grates at me as well. “We’ll have an M&M stop soon.”

  “Sorry if the idea of five M&Ms doesn’t excite me all that much. Can I tell you something else?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know the only reason Ben swam to shore to get gas for the Fairhaven is because he was afraid you’d do it? The man can barely dog paddle. He had no business swimming in Humboldt Bay.”

  The switch in conversation catches me by surprise. It feels weird to talk about Ben, but it’s worth it to keep Caleb’s mind off his misery. “It’s not a good idea. Me and Ben, I mean.”

  “He likes you. You like him. What more do you need?”

  “Sanity.”

  Caleb chuckles, his face relaxing with mirth. “Well, I’m probably not the only one who thinks he’s not good enough for you, but I know he’d die for you. Probably with a smile on his face. Hell, he stripped down into holey underwear for you. From a man’s perspective, that’s worse than taking a bullet for someone. He’s got it bad for you, Kate.”

  I’d hardly noticed his underwear. I’d been too busy trying not to notice how good the rest of him looked.

  More rainwater drips into my eyes. Flicking it away, I think of my tiny dorm room, every inch of wall and ceiling covered with pictures of nature. Regret and longing once again flicker through me.

  “Why are you telling me all this? You and Ben don’t even like each other.”

  Caleb’s face goes stony. “I like him just fine. He’s the one who doesn’t like me.” An anguished look flashes across his features. “He has good reason. I fucked up and people died. I figure that maybe if I put in a good word for him, maybe he’ll forgive me someday.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. Caleb looks even more morose and miserable than he did when I first joined him. I need to change the subject and find a way to perk him up. The Lost Coast will eat him for lunch if I can’t help him shift his mindset.

  “What about you and Ash? She cares about you, you know.”

  That brings Caleb to a standstill in the middle of the trail. He looks from me to Ash, who labors away behind us with Ben at her side.

  “How do you know that? Did she say something to you?”

  “No. But I see the way she looks at you when you’re not glued to her side.”

  Caleb resumes his power hike. “I messed things up with her.”

  “How so?”

  “Johnson sent me on an errand. Turns out it was just an excuse to get me away from Ash. By the time I got back, he’d cornered her in a bedroom of the frat house ... Ash was fighting back, but it wasn’t pretty. Johnson laughed the whole thing off when I showed up. Ash ... things were never the same with her after that.”

  “Is that why you guys sleep with your bedroom door open every night?”

  He nods. “I don’t ever want her to feel cornered.” The agonized look he gives me has nothing to do with the pain of the trail. “You know I’d do anything for her, right? I’m not asking for anything in return.”

  The pieces snap together. The restrained closeness between Ash and Caleb finally makes sense. The way they’re always together, yet never touching.

  “Not that I’m a relationship expert, but I’d say sooner or later you’re going to have to let go of that guilt.”

  “Maybe.” Caleb looks bac
k again at Ash. “You really think she has feelings for me?”

  “I’d bet on it. But you won’t know for sure until you talk to her.”

  “Let’s make a pact. You agree to talk to Ben, and I’ll agree to talk to Ash.”

  “No.”

  “No? Come on! You just said—”

  “This isn’t a negotiation, Caleb. I can’t go there.”

  “Whatever, Mama Bear. You—hey, look!” He plants his hands on his hips, staring past the waist-high shrubs that grow along this part of the trail. “We made it to the top.”

  Sure enough, our feet have carried us to the top of the long incline. The foggy coastline snakes along below us, illuminated by the moon and stars. The water is a frothy gray.

  I take in Caleb’s posture. The hunch of pain is gone. The twisted expression has been replaced with a smile. I give his shoulder a squeeze.

  “Nice work.”

  “Thanks, Mama Bear.”

  I leave Caleb to run the forthcoming downhill on his own, dropping farther back down the trail to check on Eric. He’s near the top, slogging his way up with gritty determination. His arms are covered with scrapes from the thistle bushes. If possible, his leg hairs have even more burrs and foxtails than Caleb’s.

  “Hey.” I fall into step beside him. I give him a once over to check for ticks. “How’s it going?” No visible signs of ticks.

  “I keep reminding myself that it sucked to be fat,” Eric replies. “Even if this hill sucks, at least it’s keeping me skinny. Oh, and the fact that we have, like, half a granola bar to split among seven people.”

  “Don’t forget the M&Ms. And there’s still one stick of beef jerky left.”

  “You probably shouldn’t have told me that. I’m considering mugging you right now.”

  Eric’s sense of humor is enough to tell me he’s in a good headspace. “Think you can take me?”

  “You are pretty skinny.”

  “But I’m faster than you.”

  “True.” Eric chuckles. “How far do you think we’ve gone?”

  I glance at my watch. We left the beach four hours ago. We’ve had to stop at least seven times for Reed. I try to pick up the pace on the flat sections, but my people are chilled by the rain. Their muscles are stiff with the new demands the trail puts on them. I doubt we’ve even gone fifteen miles. Which means we have ten to twelve miles to go.

  “Maybe thirteen or fourteen miles,” I reply.

  Eric perks up. His glasses are spotted with rain, but he doesn’t bother trying to wipe them dry. “That means I’ve done my first half marathon. That’s thirteen miles, right?”

  “Thirteen-point-one miles.”

  “Hey, that’s cool. I always wanted to run a half marathon.” His face sobers. “Lila used to ridicule me for that. Back before the world ended, we’d hang out in the hallway and trade insults. Well, it wasn’t exactly hanging out, but you know what I mean.”

  For the first time in a long while, thinking of Lila makes me smile. “I can imagine it. It took me a while to realize you both enjoyed bickering.”

  “She used to tell me to lay off the crack pipe and lose some weight if I ever wanted to run more than ten feet.” Eric taps his now-flat stomach. “I wish she was here. I mean, not here. She’d hate it out here. The forest would definitely not be her happy place. Not like it is for you.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I know how miserable it is for all of them out here. Hell, it’s not like I’m comfortable, but my discomfort is overridden by my love for the trail and my long time away from it.

  “You’re keeping it under wraps, but I know you, Mama Bear.” Eric winks. “Happiness is practically oozing out of you. Well, maybe not happiness. You’re just in your element. That’s all I mean. Even more so than when we’re on the track or running for our lives through Arcata.”

  A soft laugh bubbles out of me. “I’m glad I don’t look like I’m having my own personal party.” I sober. “Eric, I’m sorry.”

  “For what? For wanting to rescue Alvarez?” He shrugs. “You didn’t force any of us to come. He’s our friend, too.”

  “Not that. I mean Lila. It’s my fault she went outside that day. If I hadn’t been pushing her to leave Creekside—”

  “Stop, Kate.” Eric holds up a hand. “It’s not your fault.” He looks down at his feet as he splashes through a puddle. “We both know Lila wasn’t cut out for the apocalypse. It was only a matter of time.”

  “We don’t know that—”

  “I do.” Eric looks at me, but all I can see is the water smearing his glasses. “I cared about Lila. A lot. But I always knew she wouldn’t make it for the long haul.”

  Hearing him say that makes me wish for a big, giant do-over. There must have been something I could have done differently to help Lila. I refuse to believe her fate was pre-determined.

  Our feet splash in the wetness pooling on the trail.

  “I miss her,” Eric says. “Finding her recipe book was like ...” He makes a choking sound.

  I wait in silence. The ocean pounds away in the background, ever present.

  Eric recovers himself. “I’m going to keep part of her alive. When I get back to Creekside, I’m going to start making her recipes.” He draws in a deep breath that has nothing to do with physical exertion. “My mom was a recipe blogger. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah. She specialized in recipes you could cook in under thirty minutes. She used a lot of processed food. Which I didn’t realize was scary until I moved to Humboldt and got assaulted with propaganda on organic whole foods. I think Mom had five different casseroles you could make with a can of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup.” He chuckles. “Anyway, I feel like I can pay tribute to both of them in my own way if I keep Lila’s recipes alive. Although Mom wouldn’t like it if she knew about the pot. Even if it is for medicinal purposes. Did I ever tell you about my first night of the apocalypse?”

  I shake my head. I’ve made it a point not to ask people about that. If I don’t want to talk about my experience, why would I think anyone else wants to?

  “I was so stoned,” Eric says. “Like, majorly stoned. I got my hands on a new hybrid ... never mind. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to take mushrooms while I was stoned. I had just finished three batches of brownies to trade for three term papers and wanted to celebrate.” He grins to himself, lost in a happy memory. “I thought these two zombies were hot chicks. They had on low-cut tanks tops and super short skirts. They looked scary but I thought that was just the combination of mushrooms and pot. I was trying to work up the nerve to hit on them. Then they started eating this guy and I thought my mushrooms were totally taking the wheel. Then Carter and Reed found me.”

  Despite the fact that I’m freezing my ass off, wet from head to toe, and hungry enough to eat raw seaweed, I laugh. I laugh so hard I double over.

  It’s not funny. Not really. People died. A lot of people. But somehow Eric’s description makes me laugh.

  He grins at me. “Who would have thought that being a chicken shit with girls would save my life? If you think that story is funny, I could tell you so many more.”

  Eric rattles on, spinning a long story about a high school crush, a botched attempt to get a prom date, and a faulty soda machine. I escape into the conversation, grateful to have my own distraction from the cold, wet, relentless trail.

  59

  Confession

  BEN

  “There’s something I want to tell you.” Ash’s voice rattles out through her chattering teeth. Ben wishes he had a jacket or a blanket or anything warm to put over her shoulders.

  “We can talk later,” he says. “Don’t waste your energy.”

  “No.” Ash shakes her head. The ocean crashes, a constant hum in the background as they run. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

  “It’s waited this long.”

  “Stop arguing with me, anaciano casacarrabias.”

  He has no
idea what she just said, but he can hazard a guess. Ash often flips into Spanish when she insults someone.

  “Do you remember that day when Carrie and Melissa went missing?”

  “Yeah.” How could he forget it? Those two girls snuck out of College Creek while everyone slept. Their note said they were going to the dorms on the north side of campus to see if they could find food.

  Ben knew it was a lie. They’d been afraid of Johnson. They’d run away.

  Johnson had known it, too. He had a thing for Melissa. The way he’d looked at her left no doubt in Ben’s mind what he intended, and it wasn’t flowers and a romantic stroll.

  “I looked for them,” he tells Ash. “After the massacre. When I went my own way. I scoured the north side of campus for any sign of them.” That was how he’d found Kate and the others at Creekside, though he hadn’t revealed himself to them at the time. He’d been hell bent on tracking down Johnson and killing him. “Ash, I don’t know what happened to them, but if they made it to the north side of campus, I never found them.”

  He’d even looked for their bodies among the undead. The girls weren’t cut out to survive. They were scared of everything and didn’t know the first thing about taking care of themselves. Hell, Carrie admitted to having never done her own laundry until moving away to college, and half the time she just took everything to the dry cleaner and paid to have it washed.

  “They never made it to the north side of campus,” Ash whispers. “They tried to sneak away. I was keeping watch at the time. Johnson caught them.”

  Ben grinds his teeth. He wants to plug his ears, but there’s no escape.

  “Johnson and Ryan.” Ash swallows. “They caught Carrie and Melissa as they tried to sneak away. I—” She stops, a cough wracking her body.

  “I asked you,” Ben says. “The next morning when we realized they were missing. I asked you if you saw anything.”

  “I lied.” Ash doesn’t look at him. “I’m sorry, Ben. I was so fucking scared of Johnson. The only reason he didn’t try to touch me in the beginning is because he knew I could defend myself. But it was only a matter of time.”