Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  A bullet punches through the wall above us, sending dust and grit raining down. Reed shouts. I scream. Carter holds onto me, gripping my arms like lifelines. I imagine the drug guys having an old-fashioned Wild West shoot-out right here in the shop.

  “How about we shave your pits when we get out of here?” Carter says in a shaky voice.

  I bark a laugh, understanding that he’s attempting to crack a joke. “I would love that. I never liked having hairy pits, but they became a security measure to keep assholes away.”

  “Oh my God,” Reed says. “Can you two stop with the couples therapy session? I feel like I’m on the set of Maury Povich. I—wait, do you guys smell that?”

  I take a long sniff. “Is that ...?”

  “It’s smoke!” I hear Reed jump to his feet. “Fuck, something is on fire!”

  Carter and I scramble up. The smell of smoke is distinct now.

  Carter attacks the door with all his might. Reed joins him, the two of them struggling to get it open.

  “Help us!” I shriek. “Somebody help!”

  The gunshots and yelling have stopped. Replacing it is the crackling sound of flames. Smoke makes its way into the tiny storage room. I can’t see it, but I smell it and feel it sliding into my lungs. We start to cough.

  “Help!” Carter shouts, banging on the door. “We’re stuck in here.”

  Of all the things I worried about today when we left Creekside, burning to death in the closet of a rock shop was not on the list. Getting eaten by a zombie, yes. Getting chased by bad guys with guns, yes. But not this.

  The smoke is getting worse. Reed and Carter keep up their constant barrage against the door. They’ve managed to move it an inch or so, but all that does is let in more smoke.

  “Carter?” From somewhere in the shop comes a voice. “Carter?”

  It’s Kate. Thank fucking God.

  “We’re in here,” I scream. “Kate, help us!”

  “The supply closet,” Carter shouts, grabbing the knob and banging the door repeatedly against whatever piece of furniture is blocking our escape. “Mom, over here!”

  “Hold on, guys.” Johnny’s voice carries over the din.

  Outside the door is a loud scraping sound.

  “Fuck this,” Kate growls. “Move over, Johnny.” There’s a huge crash followed by the sound of shattering glass.

  Reed throws himself against the door. He tumbles out into the smoke. Carter and I hurry after him, emerging in the dark shop.

  A large curio cabinet lays in shattered remnants in front of the closet. Rocks and gems lay among broken glass and splintered wood. It had been knocked in front of the door during the conflict.

  Kate grabs Carter in a fierce hug. “Are you okay?”

  “We’re okay,” he says. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  Reed throws his arms around Kate, hugging her around the waist like a little kid. “Oh my God,” he gasps. “I love you, Kate. You have to be my mom, too. I need someone to look out for me the way you look out for Carter.”

  “What about me?” Johnny demands, annoyed. “I helped rescue you guys, too.”

  “You wanna be my dad?” Reed asks with a sarcastic frown, never loosening his grip on Kate.

  “We can talk later,” Kate says, giving Reed a squeeze on the shoulder before extricating herself. “We have to get out of here. The fire is going to draw the zombies and some of those maniacs with guns are still out there.”

  She leads the way out of the shop. It’s not yet full dark outside, but dusk is in full swing.

  The blaze burns hot and thick in the futon shop next door. Zombies might not be attracted to light due to their blindness, but the roar of the flames as it consumes the old buildings makes enough noise to draw them.

  Reed stops dead, mouth sagging open at the sight of the drug dealer on the sidewalk. Five zombies crouch over him, sinking their teeth into various body parts. My chest seizes at the sight.

  “Carlos,” Reed whispers.

  “He can’t hurt you now,” Kate says. “Come on.”

  “But—” Reed begins.

  There’s no time to explain that Carlos tried to keep us safe from Mr. Rosario’s men. I grab Reed’s arm, urging him to keep moving.

  “But what about Jesus?” Reed asks.

  “We have to go,” Carter tells him, taking Reed’s other arm.

  The undead advance from all directions, hands outstretched as they moan and hiss and fumble their way forward. They pour in from every street corner, coming straight for us.

  31

  Run

  KATE

  A fundamental change in the wiring of the brain happens when a person becomes a mother. I don’t know if it’s ever been officially documented by scientists, but I know for a fact that I never viewed the world as a scary place until I had Carter.

  The moment I held my son in my arms for the first time, the world emerged around me in new colors. Everywhere I looked was a new threat I’d never seen before.

  The corner of the coffee table became a vehicle of death for my toddling twelve-month-old. The sun became a peddler of skin cancer. Television became a potential brain scrambler. A tree was nothing more than a broken arm waiting to happen. Cold weather was a portent of pneumonia and other deadly illnesses.

  The list of paranoia-inducing panic was long, unending, and ever evolving.

  And while I might not have to worry about coffee tables or trees anymore, I still worry about my son’s wellbeing. Finding ourselves in the middle of a fire with zombies converging all around and gun-toting psychos out there in the dark is a mother’s worst nightmare.

  I grit my teeth. No way is Carter going to die tonight. Not Carter, not Jenna, not Reed, and not Johnny. Whatever it takes, I’m going to get them through this.

  “Follow me. We’re going back to Trading Post. Make as little noise as possible.” I plunge forward, racing as fast as I can toward the opposite side of the plaza. I have my screwdriver in one hand and my Trading Post knife in the other. We dodge and weave around the zombies, killing those that stand in our way.

  We reach the far side of the plaza. Two zombies bump against the glass doors of Trading Post. I bury my knife in the skull of the first. Johnny is by my side, taking out the other with his knife.

  We rush inside the shop. Our packs are there, waiting where we left them.

  “Everyone grab a pack,” I order. “We go out the back.”

  No one argues, and no one comments about the weight of the packs. I lead them through the storeroom to the back door of the shop that opens onto the alleyway. I spot a few zombies. More than a few, actually.

  Under normal circumstances, I would not advocate charging through a tight cluster of zombies blocking our only way out. Tonight, there’s no choice. The alley is our best option. It’s a shitty option, but less shitty than going out the front door or hunkering down and waiting to burn to death if the fire spreads.

  “We have to punch through that cluster,” I say. “Once we’re on the other side, we run like hell. Stay together. Look out for each other. And kill any of those undead fuckers who get in our way. Got it?”

  No one says anything, but they all nod. I adjust the grip on my weapons. We glance at one another, each of us taking a moment to ready ourselves for the push.

  Reed says, “I have a serious mom crush right now.” The answering laughter is shaky at best, but I appreciate his attempt at levity.

  We move into the alleyway, which by this time is drenched in shadow. The sky is a pale gray lanced with fingers of yellow. Somewhere on the plaza is a loud boom as something explodes.

  The zombies rotate in unison, all of them drawn to the sound. I pounce, sinking a knife into the skull of the closest of them. I spin, stabbing the next nearest through the skull.

  The kids fall in around me, slashing and stabbing in silence. When Johnny slips in a puddle of blood, Carter grabs his arm and keeps him upright. When Jenna’s knife gets stuck in the forehead of a zombie, Reed yanks
it out for her.

  We break out of the alleyway and into the street beyond. I suck in a breath at the sight of a dark horde coming straight at us. They move at a lumbering gait, growling and snarling as they fumble their way forward. As of yet, they haven’t sensed us.

  I point, making eye contact with the group to make sure they understand. When they nod, I sprint for the nearest intersection. The heavy pack pulls at my shoulder blades. I grit my teeth, knowing it’s just going to get heavier the longer I wear it.

  We dodge through the next several streets, avoiding the larger groups and slashing our way through smaller ones. Labored breathing is all around me.

  Johnny grips his side, stumbling from a cramp. Carter’s face is red. Reed sucks in breaths like an old man. Even Jenna, who’s in the best shape of them all, is drenched in sweat.

  We haven’t even run half a mile.

  As I pause, giving them all a moment to catch their breaths, a giant fireball explodes into the air, momentarily bathing the world in orange light and black shadows. The noise that accompanies the fireball is immense, as if someone punched a mountain-sized drum.

  My heart beats faster, fear driving me.

  “Fire can spread fast,” I tell them. “All the noise is going to stir up the zombies and draw them. We need to keep moving.”

  “I think I’m gonna puke,” Reed wheezes.

  I give his shoulder a pat. “When it’s ready to come out, just tell me and I’ll stop. Until then, we keep going.” It will be good practice for Reed to keep running with an upset stomach.

  “Can’t we go into one of the houses?” Johnny asks, staring with longing at a nearby bungalow.

  I shake my head. “We keep moving. We don’t want to get penned in or trapped if the fire spreads. Come on.”

  Carter nods, miserable but resolute. He’s crewed enough ultras with me to know the name of the game. Jenna’s face is set, determination etched in her jaw. I take heart in her resolve. Our group needs as much of that as possible.

  A group of zombies rounds the corner, coming in our direction. Another boom goes up from the plaza, eliciting keens and groans from them.

  “Hug the houses,” I murmur, shoving the kids off the road and in the direction of the homes. “Give the zombies a wide berth.”

  I keep them moving, stepping quickly through the front yards. Thanks to the fire, the zombies don’t hear us.

  We near the corner, but there are more and more zombies pouring around it. Keening travels through their midst, a signal to draw more of their brethren.

  “Back,” I hiss, realizing our exit has been cut off. There are too many of them now and no way to squeeze by without risk. “Turn around!”

  We hurry back in the direction we came. We’re forced down a street that takes us farther away from campus. It pushes us south, toward the edge of town.

  I set a decent pace. It’s not a sprint, but it’s not a stroll either. I stay just far enough ahead of the kids to keep them moving fast.

  Rain begins to fall. It’s a cold, saturating drizzle, the kind this part of California is known for. It soaks right to the bone, chilling our clothing and skin.

  “This blows,” Reed says.

  “Maybe it will put out the fire,” Carter says.

  “Thank you, Mr. Optimistic,” Johnny grumbles.

  I ignore the commentary and keep pushing forward.

  The stitch between my shoulder blades increases, but I ignore it. Johnny runs bent at the waist, hands behind his back as he tries to support the pack’s weight.

  “Straighten up,” I tell him. “I know the pack is heavy but running like that could injure your back.”

  “My shoulders,” he moans.

  “I know. You have to ignore it. The supplies are too valuable to leave behind.”

  That could change at any moment, but for now, I want us to do our best to hang onto the supplies. We paid a high price to get them, and they might save our lives at some point.

  “If an old lady can do it, we can do it.” Reed’s voice is strained, his face is pale.

  “That’s the spirit,” I tell him.

  Three zombies loom up before us, arms stretching forward as they moan. We fan out. Carter and Jenna take the one of the left. Reed and Johnny take the one on the right, while I kill the one in the middle.

  I push the kids as hard as I dare. We run hardest through the clear streets and creep through the ones with zombies. Too many times we’re forced farther south to avoid the larger packs. The kids slow and stumble, but I don’t cut them any slack. Sympathy won’t keep them alive.

  “Push through the pain,” I tell them. “Your job is to stay alive. If that means you have to hurt, so be it.”

  They raise tired, scared eyes to me. Their chests rise and fall as they gulp in air. The packs are like giant crabs on their backs. The rain slicks across their skin and clothing.

  As usual, Reed has to have the last word. “When we get back to Creekside—oh, God—” He bends over his knees and heaves. A stream of vomit hits the pavement, splattering all over his shoes.

  Good thing I have a new pair for him.

  “Keep moving,” I tell Reed as soon as he’s finished, barely giving him time to spit the residual vomit out of his mouth.

  “Lady, you’re crazy.”

  “This crazy lady is going to keep you alive.”

  We move deeper into the night, skirting the edge of town and moving farther away from the fire.

  We reach the cinderblock wall that separates the town from the freeway. I scan in both directions but don’t see any zombies. By this time, the drizzle has turned into a downpour.

  “Three minute break,” I tell them.

  Reed and Johnny collapse, sagging back against the wall. Jenna leans over her knees, sucking in gulps of air. Carter rests against the wall. He pants with the rest of them, but gives me a wry smile and shakes his head.

  I’m happy to see him and Jenna holding hands. They stand near one another, intimacy thick between them. I don’t know what happened in the gem shop, but I think they made up. That’s another good thing to come from this disastrous outing.

  “Time’s up,” I tell them. “We have to keep moving.”

  Johnny and Reed, looking miserable, climb back to their feet. For once, Reed has no witty comeback, although I do hear him grumble about chunks of vomit still in his mouth.

  “I can’t do it,” Johnny gasps as I take them down yet another street, zigzagging our way back to the university. “I can’t go any farther.”

  “Bullshit,” I tell him. “You might be tired, but your legs are just fine. Keep moving.”

  His mouth sags open. “I—”

  “Move,” I bark. If I let up now, they could all die.

  Johnny moves, half running, half staggering.

  It takes us over an hour to get back to Creekside. We couldn’t have covered more than three miles, but to these kids, I may as well have dragged them on their first ultra.

  They limp and stagger by the time we get back to the dorm. Lightning streaks across the sky. Eric rushes down the stairs to meet us, shouldering the packs from Reed and Jenna. I watch the kids climb the stairs, their bodies bent with fatigue but very much alive.

  At least the university is on the other side of the freeway. It doesn’t hurt to have a large asphalt barrier between us and the flames. It’s no guarantee of safety, but it gives us a measure of security.

  “What the fuck happened out there?” Eric asked. “Half the town is on fire.”

  “We’ll fill you in upstairs.”

  We deposit the packs in one of the deserted dorm rooms. I want to spread out the gear and organize the packs, which will be easier in a space I don’t have to share with six other people.

  Back in our dorm suite, Carter, Reed, Jenna, and Johnny sprawl on the sitting room floor. They look like they’ve been run over by a truck. Lila, sitting in the middle of them, has her cannabis salve out.

  “Dude, Lila, they don’t need lotion,�
�� Eric says. “They need a joint.”

  “Dude, Eric,” she says, “the skin is the largest organ on the body. Applying salve will get the needed relief to their muscles faster.”

  The usual rancor is missing from their exchange. In fact, the two of them smile at each other like they’re sharing a private joke. Maybe they bonded while worrying about the five of us and watching Arcata explode in flame.

  As I look at the four exhausted young men and women at my feet, resolve hardens within me. This new world requires fitness.

  And I’m not talking about normal, thirty-minutes-of-cardio-three-days-a-week fitness. I’m talking about ultramarathon fitness. One way or another, I’m going to get these kids in shape.

  32

  Meeting

  JENNA

  I rouse from a deep sleep in Carter’s arms. His long limbs are snug around me, holding me close. I want to stay here forever, safe and warm and with Carter.

  It’s still raining outside, the water pattering against the glass. Yet another reason to stay in bed with Carter. It can rain for days at a time in this part of the state. I can’t think of a better place to wait out the storm.

  But someone keeps tapping on the door.

  “Jenna!” Lila’s voice calls through the hollow wood. “Are you guys decent?”

  I am most certainly not decent. When we returned home last night, Lila took one look at me and Carter and resigned herself to the living room with Kate.

  “Give us a sec,” I call back.

  Carter stirs, eyelids fluttering open. His face splits into a big grin when he sees me. I kiss him, drawing it out and savoring his warmth.

  “It’s been more than a second,” Lila says. “Don’t make me come in there.”

  Sighing, I flip off the covers and attempt to pick my clothes up off the floor. Carter grabs me around the waist and drags me back. I shriek as he playfully bites my shoulder.