It takes us nearly an hour to work our way around the plaza to the backside of Trading Post. And though it’s slow going, we don’t attract any attention.
“Damn,” Carter swears as the alleyway behind Trading Post comes into view.
It’s crammed with zombies.
23
Distraction
KATE
We fall back, taking shelter against the building between the plaza and the alleyway behind the shop.
“This was a bad idea,” Reed says. “We should just go back.”
“No way,” Jenna says. “We worked our asses off to get here. No way are we turning around now.”
“What are we supposed to do? Wade into that”—Reed gestures to the milling undead—“and hope for the best?”
“We just need a distraction to draw them away,” Carter says.
Johnny grunts in disgust. “Well, we’re all out of dogs.”
“All we need is a car radio,” I say. “We—”
“What good will that do?” Reed demands. “It’s not like there are any radio stations that work.”
I want to suggest that Reed take himself back to Creekside if he isn’t going to be helpful, but remind myself that he’s scared.
“Frederico and I used a trick on the way here,” I explain. “We find a nearby car with the keys still in the ignition. Preferably one with a CD or old-fashioned tape player. We crank the music and let it draw the zombies.”
“I’ll do it,” Carter says. “I’ll find a car.”
“We’ll go together,” I begin, but Carter shakes his head.
“You know better than anyone what supplies we need in there,” he replies. “It’ll be getting dark in another two hours. We don’t want to get stuck out here. You guys go and get started. I’ll create the distraction and make my way back to you.”
“I’m going with you,” Jenna says. Carter opens his mouth, the argument plain on his face, but Jenna cuts him off with a fierce shake of her head. “Don’t even try to talk me out of this, Carter Stephenson. You need someone to watch your back. That someone is me.”
“The two of you need someone to watch both your dumb asses,” Reed says. “I’m not going in there.” He gestures to the alleyway.
Johnny looks at me. “I guess that means you and I are on our own, Kate.”
“Only until we create the distraction and get back to you,” Carter says.
I nod, even though a knot has formed in my stomach. I don’t like the idea of splitting up the group. Still, Carter’s plan makes sense. It would be better to have Reed with us for the extra hand in searching for supplies, but he’s so shaken I’m not sure how much good he’ll be. At least if he’s with Carter and Jenna, they’ll have one more person to look out for them. He’s proven proficient at killing zombies.
“We need a rendezvous point in case something happens and you can’t reach the store,” I say.
“If we can’t get to the store, that will mean you’re trapped inside,” Reed says. “A rendezvous won’t do any good at that point.”
“Will you stop being a complete ass for thirty seconds?” Jenna demands. “Just shut up.” She turns to me with a forced smile. “Kate, if for some reason we can’t make it to the shop, we’ll meet you at the overpass that leads back to the university.”
I nod. That’s a logical place. “We’ll wait for one another until sunset. After that, get back to Creekside.”
They all nod in agreement. I hesitate, wanting to gather Carter into a hug and cover him with kisses. But he’s twenty, not two. He doesn’t need me going to pieces on him.
“Be safe,” I whisper.
“You, too, Mom.” Gripping his spear in one hand and his kitchen knife in the other, he, Jenna, and Reed set out. I make a mental note to find them all decent hunting knives in Trading Post.
“It’s hard for you to let him go,” Johnny observes.
Leave it to the writer to notice what I’m trying to hide. “I traveled two hundred miles on foot through hell to find him. So yes, it’s hard to watch him walk away from me into danger.”
“He’ll always be your baby.” Johnny gives a small sigh. “This is a moving moment. I’m going to write about it when we get back. I still want to interview you about your journey here, you know.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too fresh.” Johnny nods. “I understand. Someday, then. Promise me someday you’ll tell me about your journey.”
I think of the night Frederico sacrificed himself to save me. Of the day our dog was shot by a bunch of crazed assholes. Of the hunger, thirst, and fear that plagued me every step of the way. The memories claw at me. I haven’t even shared much with Carter. “If I ever decide to talk about it, I’ll let you know.”
“Deal.” Johnny flashes me a wide smile, settling against the wall of the building while we wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I fidget, watching the sun sink in the sky. If we don’t get into the store soon, we’ll be forced to turn back. Or worse, find a place to sleep for the night. It’s not worth risking our lives traipsing back to the university in the dark.
Johnny straightens, tilting his head to one side. “Do you hear that?”
I strain my ears, listening. A few seconds later, I feel it more than hear it. A deep, pulsing rhythm that makes the ground beneath my feet vibrate.
The sound grows, rippling outward over the buildings. Just beat it, beat it! Michael Jackson unfurls in a wave of glorious sound. Carter, Jenna, and Reed got us our distraction.
Johnny and I peek around the building where we’re hiding. The zombies in the alleyway stir at the sound, walking in uneven lines and bumping into each other. Their agitation increases by the second as they search for a way out. White eyes roll as they hiss and moan, scratching at the walls as the music drives them.
“They can’t figure out how to leave the alley,” Johnny says.
“Let’s check the plaza,” I say.
We cross the length of the building toward the plaza. Before we reach the other side, a stream of zombies staggers by. We fall back, pressing ourselves against the wall.
Johnny grabs my arm, gripping it with both hands. From the look on his face, I don’t think he even notices he’s clinging to me.
“Fall back,” I hiss, prodding Johnny back the way we came. It doesn’t take more than a finger in the ribs before he shakes himself out of his stupor.
We hustle back toward the alleyway. As we do, another stream of zombies staggers into view. They extend their arms, probing the open air in front of them as they find their way out of the alley. In the long shadows of the late afternoon, their silhouettes look like the zombies on the poster of a B-rated movie.
We scurry back, ducking into the alcove of a doorway. We’re trapped. Zombies are on either side of us, some on the move from the plaza, some on the move from the alley. My mouth is dry, and I have a terrified college student gripping my arm so fiercely it feels like he’s going to break it off.
I press us back against the alcove and stand stock-still. Johnny copies me, going rigid. I test the knob of the door behind us, but it’s locked.
“They’re trying the find the music,” I whisper. “We have to stay here until they pass.”
The look he gives me is one of complete incredulity. I don’t know if he thinks I’m crazy for proposing we stand here and do nothing, or crazy for suggesting the zombies might actually pass by en masse without realizing we’re here.
My skin crawls, fear raising the hair along my shoulder blades. I take deep breaths, forcing air into my chest and belly.
Two zombies blunder in our direction. My breath catches. Johnny’s grip turns white-knuckled on my arm. I didn’t think it was possible for him to squeeze me any harder.
My free hand strays to my screwdriver, resting on the handle. The zombies draw closer. They bump against the wall, take several steps sideways, and then continue fo
rward. They draw so close I could reach and stab the nearest through the ear.
I don’t move. There are too many zombies on either side of the alcove that shelters us. The smallest sound could draw their attention. I look at Johnny, hoping to convey my intent with my eyes, but he isn’t looking at me. One hand has loosened from my wrist, straying to his knife.
I poke him in the neck to get his attention. He startles before turning to look at me. I give an emphatic shake of my head. He licks his lips, but stays his hand.
The zombies lumber past us, joining the stream on the other side of the street. They are swept into the crowd and away from view.
Johnny sags beside me. “How did you know they would pass by us?”
I recall that awful flight from Mr. Rosario’s zombies with our bell collars. When Frederico and I crouched in the darkness of the tunnel, the zombies blundered by us without noticing.
Just thinking about it brings back the potent fear of those miles. My throat tightens at the memory of my lost friend. I would give anything to have Frederico here now.
“I’ll tell you later,” I reply.
Johnny’s eyes search my face. I’m thankful he doesn’t ask questions.
A break in the zombie pack opens near the entrance to the alley. I gesture to it with my chin. Johnny follows my gaze and nods. We run on light feet, rushing for the opening. We stop short when a single undead lumbers into sight. The twenty-something man wearing a torn Starbucks barista shirt never turns in our direction before disappearing from sight.
“Come on.” I grab Johnny’s shirt and haul him the rest of the way to the mouth of the alleyway. I pause long enough to make sure the coast is clear.
A near-empty street yawns before us, clear of all but a few zombies. Carter’s music has done the trick.
Be safe, baby, I think, before dragging Johnny the rest of the way to Trading Post.
24
Beat It
JENNA
Humboldt County isn’t known for wealth. Unlike the town where I grew up, there aren’t fancy SUVs and electric cars at every turn. A newish car—meaning anything with a paint job that isn’t scratched or faded—is a reason to be noticed.
Finding an older car with a CD player or a tape deck isn’t hard. The hard part is finding one with keys still in the ignition and not surrounded by zombies. It also needs to be far enough away to draw the zombies from the plaza, but near enough to be heard when we blast the music.
“That one.” I point down the street at a battered brown four-door. It sits in the middle of the street five blocks from the plaza. Only two zombies mill near it.
“I’ll take the one on the left,” Carter says. “Reed, you get the one on the right.”
Color has returned to Reed’s face after our earlier near-misses. He still looks like he might pee his pants, but when he brandishes his spear and kitchen knife, there’s determination behind his eyes.
“I’ll take care of the window.” I heft a small rock out of a front yard.
We advance down the street. Carter and Reed branch off, each of them moving toward their targets.
Carter’s eyes follow me. My throat is tight with worry. I swallow and force myself to give him a small smile. He smiles back. If I wasn’t so tense, I’d probably appreciate his smile even more than I already do.
I pull off my sweat jacket, wrapping it around the rock. There’s a chance the door is unlocked, but I don’t want to waste time checking. The car sits askew in the middle of the road, as though the owners jumped out and fled on foot. Not so different from what we did when we were forced to abandon our bikes. Around the car are a few bodies, all of them felled by headshots.
I smash my rock through the glass, shattering the window. The glass makes soft cracking sounds and tinkles onto the seat inside. I open the door, glass crunching as I rest a knee on the cracked leather.
I glance up long enough to see Carter ram his spear up through the neck and brain of his zombie. A sick squishing sound follows as he pulls the spear free. Our eyes meet through the windshield of the car.
Everything inside me loosens at the sight of him standing safe on the other side of the car. I return my attention to the dashboard.
An old tape deck sits before me. Dangling out of it is a wire that leads to an honest-to-God Disc Man, one of those old-fashioned portable CD players. This is the way my parents used to listen to music back when they were teenagers.
There are no keys in the ignition. Damn. I check the cup holder, glove compartment, and visor. Nothing.
By this time, Reed has also dispatched his zombie. “What are you waiting for?” His eyes flick up and down the street, shoulders hunched. He looks like he’s on the run.
“No keys.” I hurry to the nearest body on the ground near the car. A man in a button-up shirt and blue jeans lies on his stomach. I almost flip him over with my boot, but the number of flies and maggots crawling over his body change my mind. I twist my hand, angling it into his jeans pocket.
Carter, understanding my plan, doesn’t waste time waiting for me to complete my search. He hurries to the next body, a woman in jeans. “Found them,” he says, raising a set of keys in triumph.
“Awesome, babe.” I hold out my hands for him to toss the keys to me before I realize I’ve called him babe.
His expression morphs into a guarded one. I keep a smile on my face, trying to act casual, but my jaw feels stiff. He tosses the keys to me without comment.
Later, I tell myself. Worry about boyfriend stuff later.
When I fire up the engine of the car, I crank the radio to full blast. Michael Jackson’s Beat It thumps out of the speakers. The car may be old, but at some point, someone upgraded the sound system. The bass vibrates against my skin.
A few zombies stagger around a nearby corner, drawn by the sound. We have to get the hell out of here.
Using Kate’s trick from earlier, we duck through a fence into a backyard. It’s dog and zombie free. We hop the fence a second time and exit one street up.
Now we just have to avoid the horde of zombies we’ve drawn from the plaza and get back to Kate and Johnny.
This all seemed like a good idea thirty minutes ago when we hatched the plan. But as I catch sight of the zombies twitching to life up and down the street, I wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves into. When the keening starts up, I wonder if we should hide in one of the houses for a while.
But Kate and Johnny are still out there. We have to get back to them.
The trick is going to be maneuvering around the zombies we’ve drawn. Time to pull out one of Kate’s tried and true methods: I break into a run.
Carter and Reed share my sense of urgency. They huff along on either side of me, pumping their arms as we run through the streets. We kill a few zombies that get too close, choosing to avoid and outrun the rest. Michael Jackson’s voice continues to thump in the distance, growing fainter the farther we go.
We make it several blocks without incident before I pause to look over my shoulder. A stream of zombies clogs the intersection behind us, all of them heading toward the car.
I slow, struggling to catch my breath. Carter and Reed wheeze like asthma patients.
“How does Kate do it?” Reed puffs between gasps for breath. “I feel like I’m going to faint.”
“Training,” Carter replies, also huffing. “She trains her body.”
“We’re past the bulk of them,” I say. “Let’s circle back to the plaza.”
We move at a brisk walk, none of us willing to run now that the immediate threat is out of the way.
We pause one block away from the plaza, surveying the scene. Nearly all the zombies are gone, drawn to the music. The few still present bump into storefronts or abandoned vehicles, hissing and moaning as they try to figure out how to get to the noise.
Something moves in the park. At first, I think it’s more zombies, except the two figures don’t move like zombies. Their movements are curt and efficient, their heads on an axis as th
ey scan their surroundings.
It’s two men in their thirties, clean-shaven with dark hair. They wear sturdy boots, jeans, and leather jackets.
Fear curdles in my gut. Zombies are scary, but after our run-in with the College Creek kids, people scare me more. I’m not eager to be seen by these guys.
Carter backs up, his hand grabbing mine. I only have a second to wonder if the act is a conscious one before I see Reed’s face break into a grin. Before I can say anything, he rushes past us—straight toward the two men.
25
At Gunpoint
JENNA
“Reed! What are you doing?”
“I know those guys.” He hurries into the open. He waves his arms, catching the attention of the two guys.
Shit. I exchange a look with Carter, who looks as worried as I feel. This time, when Carter takes my hand, I know it’s on purpose. He squeezes my fingers, glancing into my eyes as we hurry after Reed.
“Carlos. Jesus.” Reed grins at the men. “Am I glad to see—”
The smaller of the two men raises a gun and shoves the barrel up against Reed’s nose.
Carter pushes me behind him, herding us both back. I freeze as the taller man pulls a gun and aims it at us.
“Stop right there,” he drawls.
“What the fuck, Carlos?” Reed says, pushing the gun barrel out of his face. “Why are you being an asshole?”
“Inside.” Carlos gestures with the gun at a gem and mineral shop. “We need a word with you, Reed.”
“Can you put the guns away?” Reed demands. He points to Carter and me. “These are my friends. You’re scaring them.”
“Get your asses inside,” Carlos barks.
The bigger guy, Jesus, gestures to us with the gun. “He said, get your asses inside.”
Reed grumbles, but waves for us to go into the store. How does he know these guys? What sort of shit has he gotten us into this time? I make a mental note never to let Reed leave Creekside again. Ever. I’m sick of having firearms pointed at us.
Dorm Life Page 14
