Mr. Rosario climbs onto a stool to address the people. “These idiots were sent by my enemy to deliver a message to me. They thought it was okay to kill some of my people. It’s time for me to send a message back to my enemy.”
The air is hushed with anticipation. Rosario flicks her fingers.
Six men advance on us. They’re big, muscly men. My mouth goes dry.
“Be strong,” Ben whispers to us. “Remember what Kate told us. You are more than your pain. You—”
Whatever else he was going to say is lost in an explosion of pain against the side of my head.
I’ve never been hit before. Oh sure, Tom and I used to wrestle and knock each other around. Sometimes we were even mad when we did it.
But I’ve never been punched like the high school dweeb. That’s how it feels when the first blow lands. Like I’m the nerd caught by the bullies.
It makes the previous stoning seem like kitten’s play.
Blows rain down on me. My head. My stomach. My back. My legs. Everywhere.
I try to go inside myself. I try to remember all the tidbits of pain management Kate taught me.
I can’t summon a single one of them.
I curl myself into a ball, wrapping my arms around my head in a feeble effort to protect it.
How long does the torment go on? Ten minutes? Ten hours? I’m not sure.
When it abruptly stops, all I can do is lie panting on the ground.
I thought I was sore after my first day of training with Kate. I thought I was sore after running the Lost Coast. I thought I’d endured the pinnacle of pain when we ran from the fire outside of Braggs.
I was wrong. Until today, I never knew the true meaning of pain.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you.” Rosario’s voice washes over us. “This is the fate that awaits anyone who crosses me. When we find the other rats who escaped, they’ll endure the same fate.”
We are hauled to our feet and lashed against large wooden poles staked to the ground near an old stone well. For the first time, I notice another man staked to a nearby pole. He’s so still that I can’t tell if he’s alive or not.
I shift my blurry gaze to my friends. Ash looks like death warmed over. The blood from her shoulder wound saturates the front of her shirt. Ben’s face is bloody and bruised. To my eyes, it’s a fuzzy array of bright red blood and dark red.
“These three who stand before you are sentenced to death by zombie,” Rosario says. “Take a good, long look at them. If any of you fuckers so much as looks like you’re thinking of rebelling or trying to escape, you’ll join them.”
The words hang in the air like a hammer.
Death by zombie.
I see the blurry outlines of the pet zombies attached to their leashes. She’s going to set the monsters loose on us.
I wish I was dead.
“But first.” Rosario holds up a finger. “Let’s give the pets an appetizer.”
The wheelbarrow is brought forth. Cries of despair go up from the prisoners as the dead are dumped in a pile before them.
“You are dogs,” Rosario says. “You live like dogs, and you die like dogs. Jeanie, it’s time to feed our pets.”
Jeanie and two other lackeys advance with leashed zombies. The monsters go berserk as their questing hands find the bodies of the freshly dead. I force myself not to look away as they tear into the deceased. My only consolation is that they aren’t alive to feel the agony.
“Enjoy the show,” Rosario tells us. “You three are the main course.”
Chuckles rise from Rosario’s people. A few of them jeer as one of the dead crunches loudly on finger bones.
“What are you laughing at?” Rosario’s voice unexpectedly cracked like a whip.
This time, it’s not the Fort Ross residents who cower. It’s her own people who back up as she advances on them with a wrath that can only be described as inexorable.
“A dozen of my slaves are missing. More are dead. Some of you are responsible for this. I know who you are. You know who you are. Let me be very clear: I want my slaves back.” She marches into the crowd of Fort Ross residents and grabs someone. Based on the long hair and thin body, I guess it to be a teenage girl.
The man tied to a pole lifts his head and groans. “No,” he croaks. “Not Bella.”
“Whoever brings back my slaves can have this bitch for breakfast,” Rosario says. “Come back empty handed and I’ll stake you up to die like Medieval John’s lackeys.”
32
Wild Thing
KATE
Reed, Caleb, Alvarez, and I sprint north on Highway 1, racing back toward the semi. The only sounds I can hear are the rasping of my own breath and the pounding of the ocean.
“I have to pee,” Caleb gasps.
“Let it out,” I say. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
“Did you just tell him to pee his pants?” Reed asks.
“I did.” Peeing en route is occasionally done among ultrarunners, especially the men.
Beside me, Caleb lets out of soft moan of relief without ever slowing. “God damn. That feels good.”
I glance over and see a trail of urine cut through grime on his legs and ankles.
“Dude,” Reed wheezes beside me, also relieving himself. “I just pissed myself. On purpose.
“This is a good reminder of why I don’t want to be an ultrarunner,” Alvarez wheezes. “You guys are fucking disgusting.”
Even though my chest is cramped from harsh breathing, I bark a laugh. The guys join me, their amusement brief and sharp.
“Hopefully we’ll live to tell the story to the guys back at Creekside,” Reed says.
That sobers the moment. Worry for Ben, Eric, and Ash crash back in. I lean into the sprint, pushing as hard as I can. The boys keep pace with me.
Thirty minutes later, Wild Thing looms into view. The pack of zombies we led here are massed around the semi.
“That’s going to be an issue,” Alvarez says. “How are we supposed to get to the semi?”
“Just wait,” Reed says. “Mama Bear has a surprise.”
“Does this have to do with the alpha language you alluded to?” Alvarez asks.
“Yeah. Remember how I told you we were studying alpha zoms? Watch this.” I pull out the recorder, unwrapping it from the plastic baggie. “I’ll take care of the zombies. As soon as there’s an opening, get to the semi and open the trailer. Get the ramp in place.”
Alvarez shakes his head at me in disbelief. “Aye, aye, Mama Bear. This had better work or we’re all zombie meat.”
I hit play. The clicks and keens of the alpha roll out of the speaker.
The reaction of the zombies in instantaneous. They snap around in eerie unison, pivoting in my direction. They totter toward me, moaning and scratching at the air as they unwind from around the semi like a spool.
“Hoy fucking shit,” Alvarez mutters. He dashes away, following Caleb and Reed as they circle wide around the semi. They head for the newly formed opening.
I grit my teeth, never taking my eyes from the horde advancing on me. I draw them away from Wild Thing.
The recording comes to an end. My fingers dance over the buttons, hitting rewind, stop, and play in rapid succession. The clicks and keens play a second time, drawing the zombies farther away from the semi.
A single zombie lurches sideways, away from the rest of the horde. It cocks its head in my direction before letting out a long string of clicks.
Shit. Another alpha. I could use Johnny and his air gun right now.
Rewind, stop, play.
The horde never stops advancing. Over their heads, I see Caleb, Reed, and Alvarez make a dash for the semi. Caleb snatches the keys stashed on the front wheel. The three young men haul ass to the back of the trailer, unlocking the door and getting the ramp in place.
Many of the zombies twitch at the noise made by the boys, but the alpha recording overrides their instinct to move toward noise. As soon as the ramp is in place, Caleb hau
ls ass back to the cab and jumps inside. Reed and Alvarez scramble first onto the hood of the cab, and then onto the top of the trailer.
The alpha comes in my direction, still clicking. I keep my eyes on it, hoping it won’t choose to issue a conflicting order. Reed and Alvarez pull out their guns, looking to me for permission. I shake my head. The alpha hasn’t yet done anything to jeopardize the mission. I don’t want to rile up the horde with gunfire if I don’t have to.
The alpha continues to move in my direction, head cocked and listening. It looks eerily self-aware.
I made a hard left, putting several dozen regular zoms between me and the alpha. It’s comforting to know Reed and Alvarez can shoot if necessary.
Rewind, stop, play.
“Come to Mama Bear,” I whisper.
Rewind, stop, play.
The alpha suddenly lets up a long ululating keen, followed by a string of clicks. The sound sends cold shivers across my shoulder blades. The zombies begin to rotate away from me and in the direction of the real alpha. The alpha has turned toward the semi, nose lifted and scenting the air. Shit. Can it smell Reed and Alvarez?
I can’t risk it. Johnny said that getting rid of the alphas was the best way to maintain control of the herd. The monster is on the very edge of the horde. I make a hard left, sprinting straight at the alpha. I raise my knife.
I see the moment when the alpha registers the threat. It lets out a long hiss, pivoting to face me.
I spring forward and strike. Hands encrusted with dried blood reach for me, pawing at my clothes.
My knife punches through its skull. The alpha lets out one last hiss before dropping at my feet in a puddle.
Just as it falls, two more zombies close in and reach for me. I stumble back.
Gunfire cracks. The two zombies fall. Shit. I’d hoped to dispatch the alpha silently.
The gunfire acts like a fire accelerant. The zoms instantly switch into feral mode. Growls and hisses run through their ranks as they turn back in the direction of the semi.
“Move, Kate,” Alvarez calls. He and Reed keep their weapons trained on the zoms.
I don’t need to be told twice. I cut an arc around the zombies and sprint for the semi. Instead of getting inside the cab with Caleb, I climb onto the trailer with Reed and Alvarez.
“Are we going to Pied Piper the zoms all the way to Fort Ross?” Alvarez asks.
I shake my head. “That will take too long. We get as many as we can into the back of the semi. Then we ram the shit out of Fort Ross and set them loose.”
“This doesn’t feel right.” Alvarez’s face is somber as he joins me in the back of the semi. “I agree we don’t have a better plan, but ...”
I squeeze his hand. “We’ll use the zombies just long enough to overwhelm Rosario’s people. Once we have them subdued, I’ll drive them out of the fort with the alpha recording.”
The plan is loose at best. We all know it. But with nothing else at our disposal, it’s our only option.
Drawn by the earlier gunshots, the zombies have already started back in the direction of the semi. I pull out the recorder and position myself over the open trailer door.
Reed grimaces at me. “We’re about to load up with passengers from hell.”
I hit play. The alpha recording rolls across the road. It may not project like an old-fashioned boom box, but it’s enough to get the attention of the zombies.
The reaction is instantaneous. Moans ripple among the ranks. Many of them begin loping toward the semi.
“Holy fuck,” Alvarez breathes. “I’m glad we’re on top of a semi.” He raises his gun, watching the approaching mass.
When the recording ends, the zombies slow, many of them turning in small circles as though searching for their leader. Rewind, stop, play. As soon as the recording begins playing again, they resume their forward lope.
In less than three minutes, the first zom reaches the semi. A dozen of them totter up the metal ramp into the truck bed. Another half dozen miss the ramp completely and bump up against the side of the trailer.
“No one ever said rounding up zombies was an exact science,” I mutter.
Rewind, stop, play.
I continue to lure the zombies into the trailer. Impatience thrums in my chest. No one ever said a zombie round up could be accomplished in thirty seconds, either.
“There’s another alpha.” Alvarez takes aim at a middle-aged zombie in a green jacket.
Sure enough, the zom clicks and keens its way down the road. It hadn’t been with the main pack a few minutes ago. It must have been somewhere nearby and come when it heard the commotion. A thick knot of zombies follows in its wake.
Alvarez takes his time, waiting until the alpha is fifty yards away. His shot echoes in my eardrums.
The alpha falls. The zombies clustered around it scratch at the air in confusion.
“Come on,” I murmur. “You have a new alpha now.”
Their heads cock. Slowly, they turn in my direction.
“That’s right,” I say. “Come on, assholes.”
Another group of zoms reaches us. Another dozen of them ambles into the semi-trailer. Another half dozen scratch at the outside of the truck in confusion, trying to figure out how to get inside.
Play, stop, rewind.
Play, stop, rewind.
In twenty minutes, we have at least fifty zombies inside the semi-trailer. We haven’t seen another alpha.
“Time to go,” I say. Fifty zoms are more than enough for our purposes.
“I hope you have a plan for getting the door closed from up here,” Reed says. “I’m not going down there.” He waves his gun in a downward direction, taking in the large group of zoms that’s clustered outside of the semi-trailer.
“We aren’t shutting the doors,” I reply. “We can’t waste time getting them back open when we hit Fort Ross. We need instant pandemonium.”
I gauge Alvarez’s reaction to this. He shakes his head but doesn’t argue with me. I can tell from his clenched jaw that he knows my plan is as good as it’s going to get.
Reed wrinkles his brow at me. “You’re cooking up one scary recipe, Mama.”
“I know. Come on.”
We hurry back to the cab. Half a dozen zombies have surrounded it. Their broken nails scratch against the paint. I don’t want to risk any of them getting caught in the wheels when we drive away from here.
I slide over the windshield, drawing my zom bat. “Come here, assholes,” I call.
The small contingent of them growls at the sound of my voice, moving in my direction.
Reed and Alvarez slide down beside me, also armed with knives.
“Here, zombie-zombie-zombie,” Reed chants.
“Come and get it,” Alvarez growls.
We quickly dispatch them, then climb into the cab with Caleb.
“Fire it up,” I tell him.
“But the doors in the back are still open,” Caleb protests. “And the ramp is still down.”
I shrug. “We’re not risking our lives to go back there and button everything up. Drive.”
“But—”
“Do you know how to drive this thing or not?” I ask.
Caleb grimaces. “Sort of.” He turns the key, letting the big rig hum to life.
Sort of. Well, that’s more than I can say. My mouth tightens as I look down the road to Fort Ross. I slide the tape player into the back kangaroo pocket of my pack where it can be easily accessed.
“Get us the hell out of here, Caleb.”
The semi lurches down the road. I glance in the sideview mirror and see a few zombies tumble out. The metal ramp shrieks loudly as it’s dragged over the pavement. Then unattached at the back, it falls to the ground with a bang.
“Instant pandemonium, here we come,” Reed says.
“God help us,” Alvarez says.
33
Endure
JESSICA
Steph.
A wail of grief breaks out of me as I watch a zombi
e sink its teeth into the immobile flesh of her arm.
Steph.
What happened to her? Someone shot her, yes, but that’s not what grabs my attention.
Her clothes have been ripped. Her jeans are down around her knees.
Someone tried to rape her. I know this instantly. One of Rosario’s fucking assholes tried to rape her. My compliance hadn’t been enough to protect her.
And now they intend to hurt Bella. I watch as she’s dragged into a nearby RV and thrown inside.
No. Fucking. Way.
No man is going to lay a finger on that girl.
And the rest of those assholes are not going to hunt Alvarez down like an animal. Not on my watch. I don’t care who I have to kill to save him.
Time for Fort Ross to burn.
I have no plan beyond fire. It’s my primary weapon and I have every intention of using it.
Fingers shaking, I dump the contents of the fire-starting box onto the passenger seat. It’s covered with a dirty lambskin seat cover. It should go up like a torch.
I fumble with the matches. My hands shake with fury and I drop half of them in my haste.
The door to the RV rattles. What the fuck? Don’t they have enough entertainment?
I have just enough time to shove the box under the front seat when Joe Dirt climbs inside.
“It’s your lucky day, girlie. I helped capture those prisoners out there. Mr. Rosario has given me some time off. I have all day.”
The way he drawls those last two words is a promise of slow torture. I resist the urge to back away like a cornered animal.
Alvarez. Steph. Bella. I repeat their names in my head like a mantra. They anchor my feet in place and help me hang onto my sanity. My timing has to be perfect. I’m only going to have one chance at this.
My door opens a second time. Another man steps inside. I name him Bad Teeth. This one hasn’t been to see me yet. He scowls at Joe Dirt.
“What the fuck? You had your turn yesterday.”
“So what?” Joe Dirt shoots back. “I got here first.”
“Well, hurry the fuck up. One of those bitches in the kitchen found some enchilada sauce. She’s making stewed chicken.”
Fort Dead Page 19
