Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

“Yeah?” I don’t turn around. After our last close call, I don’t intend to take my eyes off the bridge.

  “You’re a fucking superhero. Thank you.”

  I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips. A fucking superhero. I’ll take it. “Anytime. Just don’t make it a point of falling through bridges. I’m not sure we’ll get so lucky a second time.”

  “I owe you one.” Caleb grips my shoulder. “Next time I score a bottle of booze on a scavenging run, it’s yours.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” I pause, studying a gap in the bridge. I inch to the left, picking my way over the narrowest part of the gap.

  That’s when I catch another glimpse down into the river. If possible, it looks like there are even more zombies in the water.

  I pause, squinting through the opening. My eyes follow a snaking line of zombies through the water, all the way back to shore.

  My stomach falls into my feet. The line doesn’t stop at the shore.

  That’s when I recall all the noise we made when the bridge broke beneath us. The yelling. The screaming.

  We’d announced our presence to every undead in Braggs.

  A pack of zombies masses at the edge of the southern bluff that leads down to the river. One by one, the zombies step over the edge, plummeting to the hard ground below.

  The fall would kill a human. And it does incapacitate some of the zombies, breaking their legs or their bodies so badly they can’t move. But at least half of them stagger to their feet and wade into Pudding Creek, drawn by the keening of their fellows.

  The keening isn’t isolated to the water. A second chorus of keens goes up, this time in front of us.

  Several dozen zombies have massed at the gate on the far end of the bridge. They rattle the cage and gnash their teeth, their ruined bodies straining to reach us.

  7

  Recording

  KATE

  I stare at the zombies on the other side of the chain-link fence at the southern end of the bridge. Their pallid, bloody faces and white eyes swamp my vision. Their snapping teeth and high-pitched moans pierce my ears.

  The sight of them brings my anger to a boil.

  “All I want to do is save my friend from a psychotic drug dealer,” I snarl. “Is that so much to ask?”

  I take in the scene before me, calculating our odds of fighting our way through the pack.

  No way. There are too many of them. And there are more and more zombies coming every second, drawn by the frenzy of their brethren.

  The chain-link fence extends a good fifteen feet on either side of the bridge, creating a convenient safety net for the zombies. If not for that, they’d probably walk right over the edge.

  As far as I can tell, there are no alphas. None of the zoms has the telltale cluster around them, nor are any of them making those strange clicks and keens that function as zombie language.

  “This might be an opportune time to use one of Medieval John’s grenades,” Reed suggests.

  I shake my head. “We can’t risk it with the bridge. Besides, we drew enough zombies with the shouting.” I gesture to the large clump of them a quarter mile away. “Any fire power we use will bring the rest of them down on us.”

  As I stand there, struggling to come up with a plan that won’t get us all killed, my gaze once again drifts to the open cliffside no more than a quarter mile away. I watch two zombies walk right over the edge, keening all the way down until they’re silenced on the shoreline below.

  “If only that fence wasn’t there,” Ben mutters. “The whole pack would eventually walk right over the edge. We’d just have to wait them out.”

  “That’s it.” I spin around to face him, mind racing as a plan forms.

  “What’s it?” Ben narrows his eyes at me.

  “I’m going to drive them over the side.” I unclip my pack and pull out the precious tape recorder with the alpha zom recording. It’s small, no more than four inches tall and six inches wide. Using my belt, I secure it to my waist.

  “Eric, give me your blanket.” I strap my running pack back into place and face the fence.

  “Kate, what are you doing?” Caleb asks.

  “I’m going over. Alone,” I add, seeing angry red creep up Ben’s neck. “I’ll use the alpha zom recording to drive them over the edge of the cliff.”

  The protest is instantaneous.

  “The fuck you are,” Ben snaps.

  “No way, Mama,” Reed says. “You’re not going over alone.”

  “We should go together,” Eric adds.

  “No.” I shake my head. “There’s only one alpha zom recording. I’ll clear the way and the rest of you can follow.”

  “There are over three dozen zombies out there.” Ash waves both arms at the zoms for emphasis. “You can’t take them on by yourself with nothing more than a tape recorder.”

  “We’ve tested this,” I say. “At Creekside. Remember? We played it in the megaphone from the roof—”

  Ben grinds his teeth. “We haven’t tested it in battle, Kate. Testing it from the safety of a rooftop isn’t the same thing as what you’re proposing.”

  Eric frowns as another three zombies join the growing crowd. “Just stand at the fence and play it. That should do the trick.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Driving them back from the gate isn’t enough. If something goes wrong, there’s too many of them. I need to create a safe path for the rest of you.”

  “This is as crazy as the acid brandy plan,” Eric says.

  “Yeah, but that worked.” Caleb’s words silence everyone.

  I take advantage of the pause. “Caleb is right. This will work. You guys just have to trust me.”

  I make it a point not to look at Ben. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his face growing a deeper shade of red. I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed if this were his idea. Or if he were the one going out into the horde of zombies.

  Ben manages to restrain himself for a full twenty seconds. “Are you listening to yourself?” he bursts out, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  I look him steadily in the eye. The worry etched into his features touches something deep inside me. I force all emotion from my face. “I got us into this mess. I’m going to get us out.”

  “We can go back.” He flings an arm back in the direction of the hotel. “We’ll go the long way around.”

  I take his hand. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll go back. Okay?”

  Ben fumes, glaring down at me even as his hand squeezes mine. Then he jerks me forward, squashing me against his chest.

  “If you get yourself killed, I’m going to fucking kill you. Understand?”

  I press my cheek against him. “Deal.”

  “Dude, that didn’t even make sense.”

  I feel Ben lift one arm and assume he’s giving Reed the middle finger.

  I break away, rising up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Just be ready to haul ass over that fence as soon as I clear the way. Okay?”

  The skin around his eyes crinkles with worry, but he gives me a tight nod of agreement. He doesn’t like the plan, but he’ll follow me anywhere.

  Everyone else huddles in a tight group, eyes flicking between me and the zombies. They’re counting on me to save them. I can’t let them down.

  I face the zombies and hit the play button. The familiar clicks and keens come out of the speaker.

  The three dozen zombies still, heads cocking in eerie synchronicity. Then, one by one, they fall back from the fence. They hiss and growl, white eyes rolling. They hunch over, as though being driven by a whip.

  As soon as they begin to clear out, I throw the blanket over the barbed wire and grab the cold metal fence. Making sure the volume on my tape recorder is turned up to full blast, I scale upward as quietly as I can. The zombies let up a collective moan. I freeze, poised on top of the fence. They continue to retreat.

  I drop lightly to the ground, heart thuddin
g. Separating me from three dozen zombies is no more than an eight-foot swath.

  I edge to the right. The sound from the recorder widens the opening around the zombies. I silently thank Johnny for having the foresight to loop the recording.

  In one hand I draw my zom bat, a gift from Jesus. In the other hand, I wield the recorder like a lifeline. The rubber soles of my running shoes are silent on the hard-packed dirt. I advance on the zombies, steadily pushing them in the direction of the cliff.

  My breath saws in and out of my lungs. Every bodily instinct urges me to turn and run. I curl my toes, forcing myself to advance on the zombies. Inch by inch, they stumble away from me, herded ever closer to the cliff that will drop them into Pudding Creek.

  Just another few steps ... the first zombie keens as it steps over the edge and plummets downward. There is a satisfying thud as its body hits the ground.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ben and the others making their way toward the fence. I keep my focus on the zoms.

  Another few steps. Two more zombies go over the side.

  By now, I’m close enough to the edge to see when they hit the bottom. One explodes in a bloody mess on a rock outcropping. The other lands in the water, hitting several other zombies as it does. The water froths with blood and body parts.

  The mass of zombies beneath the bridge is bigger than ever, their numbers swelling from the large amount of undead who have already walked over the cliff, along with those drawn from farther upstream who had been in the water.

  I return my attention to the zombies in front of me, advancing on them with the recording. Three more go over the side. Then another two. Then—

  Silence blares out from the tape recorder.

  The recording is over.

  Shit.

  I hit rewind, cold sweat breaking out along my back and neck as the zombies mill around in confusion. A few of them snarl and scent the air.

  I wave my free hand at my companions, signaling for them to stop. Ben and Caleb are already over the top of the fence. Eric and Reed freeze in their tracks, clinging to the chain-links.

  The rewind button on the tape recorder clicks off. The tiny noise has every zombie snarling, faces turning to home in on me.

  Heart pounding, I push play. Ben and Caleb reach me, flanking me on either side with weapons drawn.

  The voice of the alpha zom once again washes over the zombies. Their snarls fade into grunts and hisses of confusion. They retreat, hunched over and growling in meek postures.

  Reed and Eric continue up and over the fence. I pick up the pace, advancing on the zombies. Another handful goes over the cliff. The sound of them hitting the rocks and the water is satisfying.

  I jerk my chin at Ben in a silent order. Go.

  He glares at me. I repeat the motion. Caleb grabs his arm. The two of them fall back with the rest of the group just as Ash drops down over the fence.

  Go! I mouth the word. Go!

  They go, but not fast enough. They move at a fast walk, every last one of them keeping their eyes on me.

  Shit. I want them off and running away from these monsters in case anything goes wrong, but it’s clear they don’t intend to leave me behind.

  Another few steps. Another zom goes over the side.

  That’s right, I think, pursuing the zombies as they stumble back from me. Over the edge, you fuckers. Another few steps ...

  A long, high-pitched keen slices the air, over-powering the small speaker in my tape player. A chill crawls up my spine.

  Out of the mass of zombies farther inland, an alpha emerges from the crowd. It wears muddy jeans and a baggy sweatshirt with a San Francisco Giant’s logo on it. Standing there, head cocked in my direction, it lets up another keen.

  Fuck. I’m no expert on alpha zom language, but I’m pretty sure that one just said hello to me. I’ve seen multiple alphas on the move before, functioning as a unit.

  Apparently, I’ve just nabbed the attention of one. And now it’s coming my way, a large group of zombies in tow.

  I’d wanted to get rid of three dozen zombies. Now I’ve managed to get the attention of twice that number.

  This is what Ben meant by battle testing. The alpha recording is apparently not a get-out-of-jail-free card.

  As if things couldn’t get worse, the clouds decide to let loose the rain they’ve been holding onto all morning. Cold droplets pierce my clothes and hit the top of my head.

  Shit. My small pack of zombies spins in confusion, heads pinging back and forth between me and the new alpha. A few of them are already straying away in its direction.

  I take another few desperate steps forward, driving a few more over the cliff. There’s no more than a dozen remaining now.

  The new alpha is one-hundred yards away and closing. It continues to keen and click.

  A hand closes around my right biceps. It’s Ben. The look in his eyes is urgent.

  I shake my head, determined to get rid of as many of these zombies as I can. The last thing I want to do is leave them for the new alpha to scoop up. I drag him forward with me, watching another two zombies plummet over the side. Another three zombies stagger off in the direction of the new alpha. The new horde is closing in, no more than seventy-five yards away.

  There are only six zombies remaining. I give Ben a look. He nods.

  We charge forward just as the tape recorder once again goes silent, the track running out for a second time. Dammit. I slam one foot into a zombie, sending it stumbling backward over the cliff.

  I swing upward, my zom bat taking a second zombie in the nose. Its face crumples beneath the impact.

  Beside me, Ben straightens, yanking his knife free from the zombie at his feet. The last three from my pack have staggered off in the direction of the new alpha.

  We turn and run in the direction of our companions. They stand in a tight cluster a hundred yards up the coastline, waving frantically at us.

  Rain pelts down. It’s not the persistent drizzle that followed us for almost the entire length of the Lost Coast trail. This is a pounding, relentless torrent that soaks through our clothes in seconds and turns the ground to mud. I hunch over as I run, trying to shield the tape recorder with my body.

  “You are so god-damn fucking crazy,” Ben huffs. “You’re going to make me lose my mind. I’d say you’d better not ever do anything like that again, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  He’s right. I’d risk myself all over again to save him and the others. Instead of replying, I grab his free hand and hang onto it as we run.

  8

  Sand

  KATE

  I fumble the Ziploc with cold fingers, sliding the tape recorder back inside. What I wouldn’t give for a dry bag and a towel. The black shiny plastic is damp, and I have no way to dry it. I can only hope the little droplets won’t damage it.

  A look over my shoulder shows the alpha zom closing in on the zombies we killed near the bridge.

  “We have to move.”

  No one argues, though I know they’re all feeling the pain of having run over thirty miles in such a short time frame. We’re exhausted and aching.

  We run anyway.

  I lead them through the storm, putting distance between us and the horde. We run through the blond coastal grasses that bow under the force of the wind. To our right is the Pacific Ocean. To our left, past the open grass and the line of gnarled cypress trees, is a row of homes lining the frontage road. Zombies wander the open area between the two. We give them a wide berth.

  A half mile ahead of us looms a parking lot. A banner hangs limp in the rain, one side having been ripped from the pole that held it up. It ripples in the storm, sporting the image of a whale printed in black ink.

  I’d forgotten about the whale festival. I slow, scanning the parking lot through the gray mist. The others cluster around me, studying the obstacle course in front of us.

  “Of course, there are zombies,” Ash mutters. “We can’t catch a break.”

  Yep. Thr
oughout the hard-packed dirt parking lot are zombies. Lots of them. They wander aimlessly in the rain. If the lot had been any closer to Pudding Creek, no doubt they would have been drawn there by the frenzy.

  I see what I suspect is an alpha. A tall zombie woman stands off to one side. It makes no sound, but at least a dozen other zoms make small circles around her.

  I make a decision. We’re too tired to fight and too tired to manage a prolonged sprint. And my alpha recording will just attract the attention of the alpha.

  “We’re going around.”

  Ash lets her shoulders sag, some of the tension and worry sliding away. “Thank God. I wasn’t up for another fight.” Everyone else exhales in relief.

  Except for Ben. He is the only one who doesn’t one hundred percent approve of my plan. I can tell by the wrinkle on his brow as he takes in the scene.

  “Going around will put us closer to those houses.” He jerks a thumb at the row of little cottages that dot the east side of the frontage road. “I’m not sure that’s a better option. Lots of zoms wandering around.”

  “We’re not going around on the east side. We’re going down there.” I point out toward the ocean.

  Soft moans pepper the air, and they’re not from zombies. I ignore them. There are no good choices in front of us. All I can do is pick the least dangerous of them.

  If possible, my people look even more defeated. It’s possible none of them will think of the beach in a positive light ever again.

  “I don’t suppose you’d agree to trying our luck in one of those pretty houses?” Ash asks.

  I shake my head. “That alpha and the pack from the river are too close. I don’t want to get boxed between them and those zoms ahead in the parking lot. I promise we’ll stop for food and clothing before we leave Braggs, just as soon as we get past these hordes.”

  I turn, heading toward the tall cliff that overlooks the ocean. Reaching the edge, I pause to look down.

  There is no official trail leading down to the water, but the locals have carved their own path. My eyes pick out a haphazard trail in the side of the cliff. It’s partially overgrown with coastal succulents. Other parts are covered with slides of earth from heavy rains. Despite that, it’s still discernible.