Fort Dead

by Camille Picott

  Maybe there’s always some part of me that will be a con.

  Just as we reach the entrance kiosk, the fort gates are thrown open. Men and women on dirt bikes pedal out, riding two to a bike. The ones on the back fire guns while the people on the front of the bikes pedal. I count six bikes.

  The zombies around the fort go ballistic. They keen, howl, and scratch at the open air, yanking against the chains restraining them.

  Shouts of warning erupt from the garden. People scream, stampeding toward the gate. The zombies and the guards are left lying on the ground, their bodies unmoving.

  Shots ring out from the bikes. Several people in the garden drop, felled by bullets.

  “Fuck.” Ben drops to his knees, bringing his rifle up to take aim. “You guys get the hell out of here. I’ve got this.”

  “Fuck that.” Ash brings up her Glock. “I might not be as good a shot as Eric, but I can still take down assholes.”

  “This is my fault. I’m not leaving, either.” No way am I going to leave those people to be slaughtered. Not when I can do something about it.

  “For what it’s worth, Eric, I’m glad you tried.” Ash’s grip is rock steady on her gun. “It was the humane thing to do.”

  I set my stance and raise my AR-15. We’re much closer than we were before, no more than two hundred yards from the guards who advance on them. I stare down the scope, zeroing in on the first of the dirt bikes. My shaking hands miraculously still.

  I’ve never had to take out a target moving at high speed. Sweat breaks out along my forehead and upper lip. With the bikes shooting across the open landscape, there’s no time to set up the shot. Dammit.

  I fire. The shot goes wide, sending up a puff of soil as the bike races forward.

  Cracks ring out on either side of me as Ash and Ben open fire. One of the bikes flips over as the tire is shot. Five others keep coming.

  The prisoners are in a tight group. One man yells at them, herding them along. He falls in at the back of the group, shouting at them as they head for the trees growing in a thick clump along the north side of the meadow.

  That’s where Kate and her team will be. With any luck, she’ll find them and get them to safety. All we have to do is buy them enough time to escape.

  This is no leisurely target practice. I don’t have time to sight, exhale, and fire. I have to act right fucking now, or those bikes are going to overtake those innocent people.

  I zero in on one bike, the one at the foremost of the pack. I open fire, cranking off round after round. I pepper the site with bullets, hoping to God one of them finds its way into the assholes riding it. Ben and Ash do the same, bullets leaping from their guns.

  My bike veers without warning, going straight for the cliff overlooking the ocean. Before it reaches the edge, it crashes onto its side and skids through the dirt. One wheel spins, the other hangs broken on its axis.

  I wait, finger poised on the trigger.

  The two people on it struggle to extract themselves from the bike. I don’t give them a chance to get up. A woman takes a bullet through the head. The man riding behind her takes two in the chest.

  Ash and Ben have disabled another two of the bikes. The remaining two have veered away from the prisoners and are instead riding in our direction. They open fire on us. Good. If they’re focused on us, the Fort Ross people will have a better chance to escape.

  Ben lobs a grenade. His throw is short, but the explosion sends the bike into a spin. I hit the stem of the remaining bike. The handlebars snap off. The front tire hits a divot in the land and tips over, wheel spinning.

  All the bikes are down. I have no time to congratulate myself. There are still enemies out there. Three of them race across the open field on foot, chasing down the prisoners who have disappeared into the cypress trees.

  Another four head our way, opening fire as they charge at us. Another half a dozen sprint out of Fort Ross on foot, also storming in our direction.

  “Down!” Ben yells.

  I throw myself to the ground. Rosario’s people charge at us, guns blazing. Ben and Ash throw more grenades. Bodies fly up into the air. I dig in and continue to fire my rifle.

  Ash screams, rolling sideways. At the same moment, another grenade goes off. Another body flies across the ground.

  I’m aware of Ash panting on the ground beside me, squashing her hand over a wound in her shoulder. I’m aware of Ben on the other side of her, lying in the grass like a lion awaiting its prey.

  Mostly, my focus is on the remaining enemies sprinting straight at us. I raise my rifle and train it on the man closest to me. This motherfucker is toast.

  I pull the trigger.

  The rifle clicks empty.

  “Fuck!”

  I yank out the magazine, checking for bullets. Empty. My brain stops working. “Fuck. Ben, I’m out!”

  “Grenades,” Ben yells.

  I fumble at the elastic pull cord on the front of my running pack. I’m so frantic I can barely hold onto the tie. The whole point of sticking them in the front pockets was to keep them secure. I hadn’t considered I’d be pinch hitting.

  I hear another click. Another empty cartridge.

  “Motherfucker!” Ben leaps to his feet, lips pulled back in a snarl of rage. He snatches Ash’s gun off the ground. Two more shots rip through the air before that gun clicks empty, too. Another two enemies fall, but there are still more coming at us.

  I at last fumble open my front pocket. My hand closes around the grenade—

  “Freeze, motherfuckers.”

  One of Rosario’s women stops fifty feet away from us, pointing a shotgun in our direction. Flanking her are two more men, each of them also armed with shotguns.

  The woman smiles cruelly at us. Her dirty blond dreadlocks are held back by a handkerchief. She wears a shirt that reads There’s no cure for being a cunt.

  “I still have three rounds,” she calls. “One for each of you dickheads. Caesar? Timo?How many rounds do you guys have?”

  “Two,” says a man with a shaved head and a full beard.

  “I have three,” says the other man.

  “How about that?” The woman’s smile broadens. “There are three of you and eight unspent shotgun shells.” Hard eyes take us in. “All we need to do is aim in your general direction. Lay down your weapons and come with us, or die. You have until the count of three to make your decision. I really don’t give a fuck what you choose. One.”

  I grit my teeth, hand tightening around the grenade still in my front pocket. Fuck this shit. I’m ready to risk it all. Maybe I can get one of them before I’m taken down. If Ben can get the others—

  “Two.”

  “Stand down,” Ben barks. He throws his gun to the ground.

  His words stun me. The command in his voice makes my fingers loosen around the grenade.

  In a softer voice, Ben says, “You’ll never get the pin out before they gun you down, son. Stand down. Now.”

  I release the grenade and raise my hands in a sign of surrender.

  The woman’s face curls into a full, nasty smile. “That’s what I thought. Get on your knees, dickheads. You’re about to meet Mr. Rosario.”

  This statement is followed by laughter from the two lackeys. It sends a spear of dread down my spine. It makes me think that, right about now, I might be better off dead.

  29

  Reunion

  KATE

  Gunfire. Screaming.

  Hot dread fires in my veins. I break into a run, tearing through the cypress grove on the northwest side of the fort.

  “Kate,” Caleb hisses. “Kate, wait!”

  I ignore him. Panic mounts within me. Ben. Eric. Ash. Without a doubt, I know they’re caught up in whatever is going on. The trees are obscuring my view. I race through them.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I find my gun gripped in both hands. I raise it, finger poised over the trigger.

  More gunfire. More screaming.

  Ben. Eric. Ash.r />
  What’s happening?

  I hear voices. Pounding feet.

  I drop behind a tree for cover. I widen my stance, putting one foot slightly behind the other for extra support. Just like Ben taught me. The gun balances in front of me, pointed in the direction of the noise.

  Caleb and Reed catch up to me. They take cover behind two trees of their own.

  We wait. Voices and footsteps hurtle toward us.

  The first person I see is a short woman in clothes that had probably once been tight on her. They now hang on her shoulders, revealing a thin frame. She can’t be much older than me.

  One look at her eyes tells me she’s terrified. She doesn’t have the look of Rosario’s people. Still, I’m not willing to risk my life—or the lives of my people—on an assumption.

  “Stop.” My voice cracks through the trees.

  The woman grinds to a halt, looking around with wide eyes. Another half dozen people rush into view, all of them right on her heels.

  “Stop right there,” I command.

  More people appear, almost a dozen in all. There are no children, only men and women between the ages of twenty and forty. A few of them are armed. They halt as they catch sight of me, Caleb, and Reed. All three of us have our weapons drawn.

  “Who are you?” I demand.

  A man with dark hair pushes to the front of the pack, both hands wrapped around the handle of a gun. My finger tenses on the trigger of my gun.

  The man gives me a hard look, showing no sign of backing down. He’s joined on either side by two women, both of whom are also armed.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” he says. “There are people after us. Let us through and we’ll be on our way.”

  My mouth falls open. I know that voice. I recognize it from months and months of speaking to him over the ham radio.

  What I don’t recognize is the authoritative young man who stands before me. Dark skin, handsome face, black stubble. By the way those around him look at him, it’s clear they turn to him for guidance.

  “Let us pass,” he says. “There’s no need for trouble.”

  “Alvarez.” His name falls from my lips. I step out from behind the tree, lowering my weapon. “Alvarez.” My voice shakes with emotion. “It’s me.”

  Our eyes meet. His mouth falls open. “Mama Bear,” he breathes. “You came.”

  A shot rings out. A person at the back of the cluster falls to the ground with a cry.

  Four people with guns burst into view. I immediately recognize them as Rosario’s people. The mismatched clothing, the unkempt hair, and the feral eyes are all a dead giveaway.

  “Down!” I shout, raising my gun.

  Alvarez and his people don’t have to be told twice. They throw themselves to the ground as Caleb, Reed, and I open fire.

  I was never a great shot, but I am decent at close range.

  Rosario’s people have handguns, but they don’t have the protection of a cypress. Their shots thunk into the trees as our guns crack through the clearing.

  I’ve killed people before. Sometimes I wake up in the middle night, sick with the knowledge of what I did to Johnson and his people.

  I expect to feel the same cold dread I felt when I set the zombies loose on him and his people.

  It’s different this time. This time, all I feel is hot rage. These people tried to hurt me and Frederico. Since taking over the fort, who knows what ungodly things they’ve done to Alvarez and his people.

  I pull the trigger again, and again, and again. Rage pumps through my fingertips and propels each bullet from the chamber.

  In less than thirty seconds, it’s over. Silence fills the clearing. Rosario’s people lay dead. Ben would be proud.

  Somewhere nearby is more shouting and gunfire.

  Reed, Caleb, and I rush to the edge of the tree line for a better look, taking cover so we can’t be seen. The north side of Fort Ross comes into view. The gates are open. Scattered across the grassland are half a dozen bikes, all of them overturned or laying on their sides like dead animals. Dead people are scattered across the meadow—Rosario’s people, and people from Fort Ross.

  Six figures move in the direction of the fort. Two of them walk with their hands clasped behind their heads. A third person walks hunched over, clasping an arm against her chest.

  My lungs stop working. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. All I can do is stare at the figures of Ben, Eric, and Ash. The three of them are herded like cattle at gunpoint.

  I’m sucked back to that moment in Braggs when I thought for sure Ben was lost to me. Panic and despair rise up and threaten to suffocate me. The pain of losing Kyle hits me all over again.

  I fight against the darkness. It won’t help Ben. I have to be strong.

  I bury the remembered pain, throwing all my focus into the present. Ben isn’t dead. He hasn’t left me. I need to bring my A-game if I want to figure out a way to keep him alive.

  I wish I had a rifle. I’m too far away for my gun to be any use. I finger one of my grenades, studying the foremost of those harassing my friends.

  I get a good look at her. Dirty blond dreadlocks. A sneering profile.

  Jeanie. I’d recognize that bitch anywhere.

  That woman had captured me and Frederico and taken us to Mr. Rosario.

  And now she has Ben. Rage bubbles up.

  “Mama.” Reed nudges me with his elbow. “No grenade.”

  “They have Ben,” I snap.

  “And Ash and Eric.” Caleb’s eyes are alight with fury.

  “It’s too far,” Reed says. “All you’ll do is alert them to our presence.”

  “They have Ben,” I repeat.

  Alvarez and his people creep through the trees, coming to stand near us in a scattered ring. From the protection of the trees, they watch my people being taken into the fort.

  “They don’t know about us,” Reed says. “We have to get Alvarez and his people away. We jeopardize their chances if we draw attention to ourselves.”

  I straighten. “Fuck that.”

  Reed’s brow furrows. “Mama?”

  “We can’t run,” I say. “Not now. That will only give Rosario a chance to circle the wagons. We need to strike now while she’s off-balance.”

  Alvarez regards me, mouth tight. “I don’t suppose you guys brought any weapons?”

  Caleb pulls two grenades from his running pack and hands them to the bony woman in baggy clothes. I can see from the look on his face that he’s as desperate to get to Ash as I am to get to Ben. He’ll do anything to get to her.

  “We brought weapons,” I say. “We have to attack, and we have to attack now. The element of surprise is still on our side.” I pass an extra Glock and spare cartridge to Alvarez. He takes the gun and ammo from me with a look of reverence, a grim smile stretching across his face.

  “We also have a semi and zombies,” I tell him. “You take your people and circle around to the south side of the fort with our grenades. When you see me coming from the north, I want you to blow the south wall. We’ll take them from two sides.”

  Alvarez stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “That’s insane. We can’t destroy the walls of the fort. We can’t bring zombies here.”

  “We can, and we will. We have to strike hard and fast.” I’ll rain holy hell down on Fort Ross to save Ben and the others. “The longer we wait, the more people are going to die.”

  Alvarez stares at me. I see the calculations whirling behind his dark eyes. Our attack will jeopardize the home he’s worked so hard to build.

  “You’ll lose the fort completely if you don’t do this,” I say softly.

  “We can’t bring zombies here,” Alvarez says. “We’ve worked hard to clear this area. We—”

  I shake my head, cutting him off. “Rosario has us out-gunned. A surprise attack won’t be enough on its own. The only thing that will tip the balance in our favor is the zombies. They’ll cause confusion and give us a chance to gain the upper hand.”


  “If you bring zombies to Fort Ross, innocent people will die,” says a man from Alvarez’s group.

  “What do you think will happen if we run and hide?” Caleb’s jaw ripples with tension. “Rosario will want retribution for what’s just happened. She won’t stop at killing our people. She’ll punish yours, too.”

  Alvarez’s eyes grow distant. In that split instant, I know he has someone back in the fort he cares for.

  “We have a secret weapon,” I say. “A way to control the zombies with alpha language. There isn’t time to fill you in on all the details. I need you to trust me, Alvarez.”

  “If you knew the shit we went through to get here, you’d know how badly we want to save your asses,” Reed adds.

  Alvarez’s black eyes settle on my face. In the last ten seconds, they’ve hardened with conviction. He nods at me. “Okay. We’ll follow your plan. My people have weapons stashed around the fort. This counter attack is sooner than they expected, but they’re ready to fight. There’s a small beach just north of here accessible by a trail. It’s hard to find if you don’t know it’s there. Rosario’s people haven’t found it yet. I keep a row boat stashed there. Steve, I need you to take our people around the cove and come up from the back. Will you do that?”

  “Yeah.” A lean, muscular man steps to the front of the crowd. “You can count on me.”

  Alvarez scans his people. “I need volunteers to go with Steve. You can leave if you want to. I won’t force anyone to stay and fight.”

  No one budges. His people are scared—who isn’t?—but I see resolve in their faces.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” Caleb swings off his pack and unzips it. “I have three more grenades and two extra guns. Who wants weapons?”

  Alvarez’s face flashes pride as his people crowd in. Reed and I join Caleb, handing out grenades and extra weapons. By the time I’m finished, all I have is my knife, zom bat, and Glock.

  I hang onto the gun for Ben. He’d want me to have it.

  Steve leads his group toward the cliffside beach where the boat is hidden. To my surprise, Alvarez stays behind.

  “I’m coming with you,” Alvarez says. “If I’m going to allow zombies into Fort Ross, I need to be the one to bring them here. We’re playing for keeps here, Mama Bear.”