Jason. The name flashes through my head. That was the name of the boy before he became a zombie. I had a class with him, though I can’t recall which one. Jason.
He has Carter’s mom.
Kate flips around and delivers a vicious kick to Jason’s head. Her legs are bare between her shoes and her capris pants. Jason snarls, but doesn’t release his hold. He drags himself forward, jaws yawning. The bare skin of Kate’s leg is only a few inches from his teeth.
I leap forward, bringing my spear down like a club. I smack it as hard as I can into the back of Jason’s skull.
The soft thunk of wood hitting bone sends a chill up my spine, but I don’t let up. I bring the spear back up and deliver a second blow. This time, the spear sinks all the way into his skull.
The creature that used to be Jason rolls sideways. Viscous blood seeps out of his head.
“Thanks.” Kate gulps in air as she extracts her leg.
I offer her a hand up. She takes it, stumbling as she puts weight on her bad ankle.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good.” Kate retrieves her screwdriver out of the zombie she killed. “Thanks for having my back.”
“What are you guys doing out here?” demands a new voice.
We spin around to see Carter emerge from the fog. His beard and hair are in disarray, eyes wide with fear and concern. There’s something else there, too, something I don’t see often in my boyfriend: anger.
“Hey, babe,” I say softly, putting on my best smile to assure him we’re okay. I leave my spear in the skull of Jason for the moment, thinking it better not to draw attention to it.
“We were just getting water,” Kate says.
Carter’s jaw sags open. “You were getting water? Why?”
“Why?” Kate echoes. “Carter, have you had a look at your dorm lately? It’s overrun with ants. We need to clean it up.” Kate gives me an approving smile. “You missed seeing your girlfriend take out two zombies. She’s good with that spear.”
A warm rush of pleasure flows through me at her words. I want Carter’s mom to like me. If that means I have to be good at killing zombies, I’m happy to show her I can hold my own.
Carter’s eyes travel from the three dead zombies to our bloody weapons. “You can’t come out here alone!” His voice is nearly a shout.
Kate blinks at him. “We weren’t alone, honey,” she replies. “We were watching each other’s back.”
His gaze swings between us. Can he see we’re getting along? I want him to see that. I know he put off introducing us. I know he was afraid Kate wouldn’t like me.
“You guys scared me. Did it occur to either of you to leave a note so I would know where you are?”
“We told Johnny,” Kate replies.
“All he told me was that you guys went outside. He didn’t know where you went, or why.”
“He must have been distracted,” I say, trying to explain. “He was talking on his ham.”
Carter’s face darkens.
“Let’s start over,” Kate says. “Jenna and I both noticed the ant problem in the kitchen. We came out here to get water, so we could clean up.”
“Why didn’t either of you wake me? I would have come with you.”
“You were asleep,” Kate says. “Besides, Jenna and I were fine. See?” She gestures to the dead zombies.
Carter sags, the fight leaving him. “Next time you want to come out, promise you’ll come get me.”
I nod, eager to move past the awkward moment. Retrieving my spear, I cross the creek to where Carter stands. I give him a quick kiss on the lips.
Kate joins us. We gather up the filled water bottles. As we lever up the heavy tote now filled with water, Carter makes a face.
“How long do you think we’re going to have to live like this?” he asks. “You know, before the dust clears?”
I frown, not sure how to answer that. Kate and I exchange a look. Carter, seeing it, stiffens.
“What?” he demands.
Neither of us answers. After a moment, Kate says, “Let’s just get the water back to Creekside. I didn’t run two hundred miles to live in an ant’s nest.”
Carter frowns. “Don’t blow me off, Mom.”
“Babe,” I say, steeling myself for the words that need to be said, “the world is over. As in, over over. The dust isn’t going to settle.”
“What are you talking about?” His frown shifts to me. “This is the modern era. We live in the United States. You’re talking as if we’ve been thrown back into the Stone Age.”
“Babe, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He steps away from me as if stung. “What about Skip?”
“What about the van?” I ask, confused by the turn of conversation.
“That’s our dream. Our future. Our beer company. I thought you wanted Ultra Brew with me.”
“Of course, I want that with you,” I say. “It’s just not realistic anymore.”
So many emotions storm across his face that I can’t read them. As he stares at me, his face reddens.
“Just break up with me,” he says angrily.
His words are like a slap in the face. “What? Carter, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“I’m just a way for you to get back at your mom for all the fucked-up things she did to you,” he says. “We both know it’s true. The beer company was all a part of that.”
“No, it’s not—”
He raises his eyes to my face. My voice dries up at his expression.
“The last time we talked to your family, you made it a point to mess up my beard and hair, so I would look even more rumpled than usual. Even in the middle of all the shit going on around us, you still made it a point to flaunt your granola boyfriend in front of them.”
Self-loathing expands in my chest. “Carter, I’m sorry, I—”
“I only put up with it because I’m crazy about you,” he says.
Tears well up in my eyes. Carter is, hands down, the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever had.
This is my fault. I haven’t told him how I feel. I haven’t told him how much he means to me.
“Carter—”
“If the world is really over, you don’t need me anymore,” he says. “You’ll never see your family again. They’re probably dead anyway.”
He spins on his heel and storms away. The sting of his words makes me hurt all over. I stare after him, heart aching, wondering how I managed to fuck things up so completely.
OTHER THAN TO WORK out the logistics of the heavy water tote, Kate and I don’t speak as we return to Creekside. I’m so ashamed, all I want to do is crawl under my bed and die.
So much for making a good impression with my boyfriend’s mother. What must she think of me?
When we get back to the dorm, everyone is up. Johnny is still talking on his ham radio; Eric is still tinkering with his Xbox; Reed is eating a brownie over the mound of ant-infested plates in the sink; and Lila is flipping through a chemistry book.
Everyone looks our way as we enter, questions plain in their eyes. No one moves to help as we lug our burden into the room.
“Foot Soldier, I gotta go,” Johnny says into his ham. “Talk to you later. Over and out.” To us, he says, “Thank God you guys are all right. From the way Carter stormed back in here, we thought you two may have taken Skip for a joyride or something.”
“Where is he?” I ask as Kate and I deposit the water tote in the kitchen.
“Bathroom,” Lila says.
Everyone watches me as I head to the bathroom.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see those two get in a fight,” I hear Reed say in the kitchen.
I pretend not to hear him. Stopping in front of the bathroom door, I listen. The sound of an electric razor comes through the thin wood.
“Carter?” I tap lightly on the door.
No answer.
I try again. “Carter? It’s me. Can we talk?”
All I get in response is the low hum o
f the razor.
Taking a deep breath, I try one more time. “Carter, look, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Can we talk?”
Again, no answer.
I decide to wait him out. I don’t care if I look like a desperate idiot, or if everyone in the dorm hears us. Fuck pride. I can’t lose Carter.
I pace up and down the short hallway, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
I’ll just apologize, I tell myself. I’ll look him in the eye and make him see how sorry I am. God, why had I been such a fucking idiot?
Because I had been. I treated Carter like an object, the thing I resented.
It was true that I took advantage of him to get back at my mom, but that wasn’t the reason why I was with him. Far from it.
It can’t be over between us. We didn’t survive the outbreak of hell on earth just to break up now. I need him—want him—more than ever. He was the best thing in my life before everything went to shit. Now that everything has, literally, gone to shit, he’s the only good thing left on the entire planet. I can’t lose him.
The bathroom door bangs open. Carter fills the doorway.
I freeze mid-step, staring. Carter has shaved off every scrap of his beard. Gone are long, bushy strands that fell all the way to his chest. He’s even cut off chunks of his longish hair.
The result is a shaggy-haired boy with a well-defined jaw, broad shoulders, and striking eyes.
He’s fucking gorgeous.
Other than those times I rumpled him up to irritate my mother, I never thought much about Carter’s looks one way or another. He could be green with purple polka dots and I’d still be crazy about him.
Seeing him this way dries up every word on my tongue. He’s as hot as any high school football jock my mom ever pointed out to me. It’s almost like seeing a stranger.
Blue eyes stare coldly at me, challenging.
“How do you like me now?” he growls. He stalks past me.
I stare after him, speechless.
11
Stripping Paint
KATE
When Carter emerges from the bathroom, clean shaven with hair cropped off his shoulders, words fail me.
Six months ago, I’d have rejoiced over his new look. Now, though, his bare face leaves his eyes exposed. He looks haunted.
Everyone stares at Carter, mouths agape.
“Dude,” Eric says, the first to break the silence, “what’s with the GQ look?”
Carter storms out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.
Jenna hovers in the recess of the dark hallway, staring after him. She looks like she’s been slapped.
I try to summon self-righteous motherhood but completely fail. I don’t know the exact details of their fight, but I do know my son turned a state of the union talk into an argument about their relationship. He’s obviously been carrying around the resentment for a while. His dad did the same thing.
One look at Jenna’s face shows me nothing but regret. That’s a point in her favor, even if what Carter accused her of is accurate.
I hesitate, wanting to give my son the privacy I know he wants, but also wanting to know where he’s going. It’s not safe to be alone outside. And it’s clear Jenna isn’t moving.
I hurry out the door after Carter, stepping into the hall just in time to see him disappear into the stairwell. I follow him down to the ground level.
“Carter, you said yourself it’s not safe outside.”
He ignores me, pushing through the door and disappearing outside.
I find him behind the dorm with Skip. He has the can of turpentine out and is rubbing frantically at the paint. Turmoil lines every muscle of his body.
The last thing he wants is a lecture or a consoling mother. Sighing, I pick up a rag and a can of turpentine. Sliding on a pair of gloves, I join him in the arduous task of stripping paint. Carter slides a peripheral glance in my direction but doesn’t speak.
I don’t try to draw him out. That would be pointless.
I strip paint until the tips of my fingers burn. My back, shoulders, and arms ache from the repetitive exertion. My feet in particular scream at me, every part of me still sore from my journey here.
I ignore all the bodily gripes and keep working on the paint.
The sun creeps across the sky. Carter never says a word. I sigh inwardly, resigning myself to the role of silent companion.
It’s nearly dinnertime when he finally speaks. “We were going to paint it blue.”
I raise my eyes to look at him. “What?”
“We were going to paint the van blue. Jenna and I were still working out the details of the Ultra Brew logo, but we knew the background was going to be blue.” He looks at me with devastated, red-rimmed eyes. “You know what, Mom? Fuck it. I’m not giving up on Ultra Brew. Just because she’s decided she doesn’t want to be a part of it doesn’t mean I have to give it up.”
I decide not to point out that Jenna never said she didn’t want to be a part of the dream. The way I see it, Carter isn’t ready to admit the world is in the shitter. Jenna is taking the brunt of that denial, even if Carter is also upset about something else that happened between them. He’s always been slow to digest and express feelings. So was his father.
It’s clear by Jenna’s stricken reaction to Carter’s words that she cares for him, but Carter is going to have to figure that out for himself. He doesn’t need his mother to tell him his girlfriend wants to work things out. I would have thought that was obvious by the number of times she said sorry through the bathroom door, but apparently not so obvious to my son.
“Do you remember how hard things were right after Dad died?” Carter asks.
The turn in conversation catches me off guard. Those first days after Kyle died are not a bright spot in my memory. Not only had I lost my husband, but I fell into a deep dark hole out of which Carter and Frederico had to drag me.
“Hard to forget that,” I reply. “Not my proudest moments.”
Carter looks at me, a dent forming between his brows. “I always thought it was kind of beautiful.”
“What was beautiful? My breakdown?” That doesn’t make any sense.
“I remember thinking I wanted to find someone that I would love as much as you and Dad loved each other.” He shrugs and starts dumping the paint in the mixing tray.
My mouth hangs open. That was Carter’s takeaway from my ten days of dwelling in darkness without showering and eating? It takes me a moment to compose myself.
“What do you think Dad would say if he was still alive?” Carter asks.
It’s my opening. I consider my words carefully, wanting to make my point without inciting another blow up with Carter.
“He would tell us to be prepared.” For once, talking about my late husband doesn’t make me feel like a crumpled ball of paper. I’m finally able to find happiness in my memories of him, rather than sink into despair over his loss. It’s a good feeling. “Dad would tell us not to be caught out on the trail with only one shoe.”
Carter chuckles, no doubt recalling the time I lost a shoe in a river during a one-hundred-mile race. The laugh exposes his Adam’s apple and the ridges of his cheekbones, both of which have been covered in furry scruff for the last few years.
“I like the new look,” I say.
“You always were after me to trim my beard and hair.”
“I’m your mother. It’s my job to nag you until you make yourself presentable.”
“That’s your job, huh?”
“Yep. And it was Dad’s job—and yours—to take care of me at ultras. Remember how Dad always carried an extra pair of shoes for me after that race?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s just like—”
“Dude, check out Skip,” says a new voice, interrupting my mom speech. I scowl at Eric, who waves down at us from the rooftop.
“That’s an improvement!” he crows, fist pumping the air. “Nice job on the paint removal.”
“How’d you get up
there?” Carter asks.
Johnny appears beside Eric. “Roof access from the janitor’s closet,” he calls down. “We moved all the solar panels from the balcony to the rooftop. It should give me a few extra hours of time on my ham radio.”
“More importantly,” Eric says, “we should have Xbox action by tonight. You up for God of War?”
A smile splits Carter’s face, the first I’ve seen all day. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
Video games and ham radios. The kids are fucking around on the roof with solar panels so they can play with electronic toys. Talk about a waste of resources.
“Eric,” I say, “do you think you could route power to a washing machine from the solar panels? Eventually, we’re going to have to wash some clothes.”
“Washing machine?” Eric scratches his chin. “I don’t think the panels I have will be enough to power a washing machine. But it’s a good idea. Let me think on it.”
Thinking about it is better than blowing me off. I decide to take that for a win. Now, if only I can figure out a way to ease Carter into a new way of thinking.
Johnny and Eric disappear back inside. I formulate several more mom speeches in my head before absorbing Carter’s bleak expression. In the end, I decide to keep my mouth shut and help with the van. The mom lecture designed to get my son’s head out of his ass and on the road to reality can wait for another day.
He’s on his own with his relationship.
12
Stairs
JENNA
I awake in an empty bed. Granted, it’s a tiny twin-sized dorm bed, meaning it’s far from empty with my body in it. But I’m used to sharing with Carter. The yawning space beside me feels like an empty football field.
A few feet away, Lila sleeps with a mask over her eyes. An essential oil book is upside down on her chest, her battery-powered reading light sticking up like an antenna. Her jars of essential oils are lined up on the desk, along with several baggies of marijuana buds. Lila must have been busy with her herbs last night. I was so drained from my fight with Carter that I didn’t even wake up.
Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 40
