Undead Ultra (Book 3): Lost Coast

by Picott, Camille

  “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 helplessness. “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. There 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.

  “Kate!” Caleb drops his artillery pack to the ground.

  “Caleb!” Ash screams, but he’s already leaped into the water.

  “Fuck this.” Ben drops his pack. He doesn’t give a shit if he drowns. If he loses Kate, there’s no reason to keep going.

  As he splashes into the ocean, he finds Reed by his side. The boy’s mouth is set, eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “We are not losing Mama,” he states.

  “Fucking right we’re not losing her,” Ben snarls.

  A wave rushes them. He and Reed grab onto one another. Ben bends his knees and braces himself.

  The cold descends, sucking the breath from his lungs. It yanks at him, trying to haul him out to sea. Ben digs his nails into Reed’s arms and leans back, fighting the pull of the water.

  The wave is gone almost as quickly as it arrives. He and Reed sputter in the surf, still hanging onto one another like lifelines.

  Ben searches the waves. There. He sees Kate’s cropped hair. It disappears, sucked under by a wave. A second later he sees the sleeve of her pink shirt

  Caleb cuts through the waves, snagging the flash of pink. Kate’s head appears as Caleb drags her upright. The younger man battles the waves, trying to drag them both to shore.

  “Come on!” Reed cries. Caleb and Kate are no more than ten feet away, struggling toward them.

  Ben and Reed fight their way through the surf to Kate and Caleb. Kate’s face is set, the fight in ev
ery muscle. Caleb looks like a spawn of Poseidon rising out of the surf, one hand still tangled in Kate’s shirt as saltwater streams down his face. Reed and Ben each grab one of Kate’s arms, freeing Caleb to steady himself.

  The four of them fight their way through the waves that suck at their feet and legs. Kate heaves, throwing up water even as she forces her feet to carry her back to the shore.

  As soon as they exit the water, she croaks out a single word: “Move!”

  Everyone stares at her as she vomits up more seawater. “Move!” she snaps. “Reed, lead them.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” she screams.

  Reed takes off, leading the pack. Ben takes up the rear with Kate, shouldering the pack of weapons.

  “Leave it,” she wheezes beside him. “Too heavy.”

  “No.”

  She coughs, taking a few staggering steps forward. She should be wrapped in a blanket by a fire with something warm to drink, not trying to run down this godforsaken stretch of beach.

  “You’re not dying for that shit,” she tells him.

  “I’m not dying. Move, Kate.”

  She glares at him, though not with any heat. He watches her set her jaw and plow forward. He glues himself to her side, matching her pace.

  Now, finally, he has a true understanding of what she’s been training them for. Why she talked about the importance of relegating pain to a distant part of the mind and pushing on. Why she insisted they all be able to run for four hours straight without being tired or sore the next day. Why she made them run up and down the bleacher stairs. Why she made them sprint around the track.

  It was all for this. So that when the day came, they could keep themselves alive.

  The terrain is complete shit. It wasn’t made for running. Kate makes it look easy, springing along beside him. She might look like a drowned cat, but she moves like a gazelle.

  Ben lumbers along, lungs burning. The pack drags on his shoulders. He refuses to let it slow him down. He’s hauled packs every bit as heavy as this before. Granted, he wasn’t running for his life from the goddamn ocean, but he’s logged lots of hours with heavy gear packs. They’re getting out of this place with their guns, no matter what.

  Water splashes around his feet. Dammit. The tide has crept up even farther, pushing them up against the cliffs. He grits his teeth, moving several inches away from the water. They can’t afford to play chicken with the surf. It cost them precious minutes to save Kate. They might not be so lucky a second time.

  The bleached remains of an enormous tree looms before them, ejected from the ocean on the Lost Coast. It sits perpendicular to the shore, blocking their path. The trunk is three feet in some places. Those in front of them clamber over before disappearing down the far side.

  He and Kate tackle the tree, the two of them grappling with the smooth bark. Kate flings one leg sideways and slide overs. Ben follows suit. They land on the other side and keep running, catching up with the rest of the group.

  “See that spit of land?” Susan points, never slowing her pace. She limps on her twisted ankle, but manages to keep up with the rest of the group. “Just on the other side of those boulders. We’ll be safe there.”

  “That’s at least a mile away,” Eric says.

  No one has a reply to that. The water pushes them closer and closer toward the cliff. Motherfucker.

  He grits his teeth and throws all his concentration into running. Left foot, right foot, watch that rock, left foot, sidestep that chunk of driftwood, right foot. His legs burn. His chest burns. His shoulder ache. He’s wet. He’s cold.

  But he’s alive. He intends to stay that way. The pain and discomfort of trying to sprint down a rocky beach can go fuck itself.

  Eric trips on a rock and sprawls. Ben grabs him by the back of his pack, hauling him up. The side of his cheek has a gash. The front of his shirt is torn.

  “Don’t stop” Kate huffs. “Shake it off, Eric.”

  He nods, pushes up his glasses, and keeps running.

  Kate has conditioned the shit out of these kids. He doesn’t know any other barely-twenty idiot who could push hard like this without complaint.

  Who would have thought that running for his life along a beach in the middle of nowhere would make him admire Kate even more than he already does? Life can be fucked up like that.

  “Push!” Kate screams. “Run with everything you’ve got.” She follows her own order, picking up her pace.

  Ben struggles to keep up. It’s obvious why she’s ratcheting up the tension.

  The last five hundred yards is a field of massive boulders. Once they hit those rocks, it will be a full-out scramble.

  And most of them are already covered with water.

  54

  Impassable Zone

  KATE

  I’m wet. I’m cold. I’m terrified.

  Worries scroll through my brain. What if someone falls and breaks something? What if another sneaker wave comes? What if the weapon packs are too heavy? What if we can’t cross the boulders in time? Whatif-whatif-whatif ...

  I feel like I’m running in Jell-O. I know what my body is capable of, but the terrain holds me back. And every millisecond of delay brings the tide closer to us.

  I drop back behind Ben, determined to see every last one of my people out of the impassable zone.

  “Stay next to me,” Ben snaps, wheezing as he sucks in air. “I can’t see you—”

  “It’s too narrow,” I snap back, maintaining my position behind him. Running side by side will mean one of us will be in the water, which is too dangerous. “I’ll be fine. Keep moving.”

  He grinds to a halt. “I need to be able to see you—”

  “Move, god dammit,” I scream at him.

  He gives me a solid glare before turning his back on me and resuming his run.

  Our stretch of beach abruptly disappears, depositing us at the foot of the boulder field. Ben scrambles onto them, pausing only long enough to make sure I’m still behind him.

  I leap up after him, legs bent and arms stretched forward for balance. I move like a giant crab, leaping from rock to rock. Each time I land, I crouch only long enough to secure my balance with my hands. Then I leap for the next stone.

  “I’m too old for this shit,” Ben gasps. Despite his complaining, he moves with the same dexterity as the younger men. Even with the giant pack on his back, his balance is solid. His active life in the military has kept him in great shape.

  I scramble and leap along with him. The ocean pounds the rocks directly to our right, sending up spray and gouts of water. Our path narrows as the water reaches steadily for us.

  Ahead of us, a huge wave rears over the shore. It looms directly over Ash and Caleb. The rest of the crew is only a short distance ahead of them.

  “Look out!” I shriek.

  Their reflexes are whip-quick. Ash drops down between two large rocks and wedges herself between them. Caleb throws his arms around a boulder. Reed, Eric, and Susan dash forward, cranking hard to get ahead of the water.

  Caleb and Ash are lost in a crash of gray water and white flecks of sea foam. I freeze where I am, crouched on a giant black boulder beside Ben. I hold my breath, waiting for the tide to recede.

  The water rolls back. I let out a cry of relief when Ash and Caleb pop up from the rocks and continue their frantic scramble. We catch up to them, the four of us spidering together over the rocks. The others have reached the safe zone.

  Ben slips. He tips sideways with a shout.

  “Got you!” I grab his arm, counterbalancing him with my own weight.

  “Thanks.” He shoves a neighboring boulder with his foot, righting himself.

  I leap for the next rock right as another wave rears up. “Get back,” I cry, lunging closer to the cliff wall. Ben, Caleb, and Ash all do the same.

  I reach out and latch onto Ben’s hand just as the wave hits us. The water pulls at his body. Digging my nails into his flesh, I hang on, refusing to let go. I wedge m
y feet between two rocks, bending my knees for leverage.

  Shivering and terrified, I shake my head to clear water from my eyes as the wave recedes. Ash crouches beside me. Ben is draped on the rocks by my feet, both of my arms wrapped around his forearm.

  “Caleb!” Ash scrambles to where he lays on his back in the valley between several rocks. “Caleb!”

  Keeping one eye on the water, I join Ash. Ben is right behind me. We reach Caleb as he picks himself up. A nasty, jagged cut gushes blood across his thigh.

  “You’re okay,” I tell him, looping an arm under one armpit to lever him up. Ash grabs his other arm while Ben grabs the back of his pack. “You’re okay, Caleb.”

  I have no idea if he really is okay. I only know that he has to be okay enough to make it another two hundred and fifty yards to the end of the impassable zone. Reed, Susan, and Eric have all made it. They wave their arms and yell as us from a safe spot well away from the water.

  “Incoming!” Reed bellows.

  I look up just as another wave hits us. I throw my arms around Caleb, clinging to him. I have a brief flash of Ben and Ash doing the same thing.

  The four of us hang on for dear life as another wave closes over our heads. We’re pushed sideways toward the cliff. Stone presses into my side. Water rushes over my face. I refuse to let go.

  As soon as the water clears, we hurry to right ourselves. Caleb sits up, lifting himself off me. Ben picks himself up off the rocks. Ash removes herself from the top of Caleb’s bad leg where she fell.

  “You’re okay,” I murmur to Caleb. “Two hundred and fifty yards. You’ve got this.”

  “I’ve got this,” he growls in agreement, jaw set with determination. He lifts himself up, springing forward with more agility than I would have thought possible considering his wound.

  By this time, we’re forced to hug the side of the cliff, scrambling over the boulders as fast as we can as waves collide into the rocks at our feet. My back aches from the constant crouch. My quads burn from the squatting. I ignore the pain, throwing all my focus at safety.