It takes less than fifteen minutes to assemble everyone in the living room. I snag the windbreaker I found in one of the closets, zipping it up under my chin. I’m sick of being cold and wet. I’m not sure how much this jacket will prevent either from happening, but it’s worth a try. I also grab a baseball cap to keep water off my glasses if it rains again.
Outside, Kate leads us down the road at a brisk jog. My muscles scream in protest. If possible, I’m even more sore now than I was before going to bed last night.
No wonder ultrarunners don’t usually stop to sleep during long races. It’s too hard to get going again once your body stiffens up.
A survey of my companions tells me everyone is as stiff and sore as I am. Except for Kate, of course. She looks rested and refreshed.
We follow a small frontage road that follows the profile of the ocean. The smoke continues to thicken as we run. A cough spills from my throat. Somewhere nearby, a zombie moans.
“Try not to cough,” Kate whispers. “Don’t make any sound that will draw attention to us.”
She’s right, but that’s easier said than done. Smoke forces its way down my throat and lungs. I wish I’d thought to ransack the pink house for a handkerchief. I pull the collar of my shirt up to cover my nose.
Ahead of us, the road curves away from the ocean and heads into town. Kate peels off the road, heading into the knee-high grass that grows along the coastline. We set across the open land, continuing south. As we pass the bend in the road, I look east into town.
A mile away is a strip mall with a Starbucks coffee shop and Denny’s. My mouth waters at the sight of the Denny’s sign. I wasted many hours of my youth in a Denny’s restaurant near my home, hanging out with friends and consuming late-night snacks. What I wouldn’t give for a plate of onion rings.
Unfortunately, I see staggering forms in the strip mall parking lot. Zombies. Lots of them.
And that’s not all. The zombies are illuminated by a distinct yellow light that doesn’t come from the sun.
Fear lurches to life in my chest.
“Fuck me.” Ben halts, staring in the direction of Denny’s. “That grocery store is on fire.”
Sure enough, in the same strip mall parking lot is a Safeway. Large flames gout from the back of the store.
“Keep moving,” Kate says.
She picks up the pace, leading us southward at a run. My legs swish through the grass, each step triggering every ache and pain in my body. My right foot, which had a blister the size of a large spider on the bottom, hurts more than anything else.
The grasses, wet from the rain, soon have my legs and shoes soaked. Water sloshes in the bottom of my shoes. My lungs work overtime, coping with the strain of running and the increasing smoke in the air.
It’s impossible not to cough. Everyone is coughing. At least we’re far enough away from buildings that we don’t have to worry about zombies. Or at least, I hope there are no zombies out here lurking in the grass.
Fifteen minutes later, Kate throws up her hand and stops us. “Dammit,” she growls.
This might be the understatement of the year. In front of us, the land drops off in a sheer cliff. Another river separates us from the land to the south of us. It’s at least twice as wide as Pudding Creek. And deeper, from the looks of things. This one doesn’t have zombies standing waist deep in its waters.
“Think we can swim across?” Caleb is the best swimmer in our group. “Doesn’t look like there are any zombies in that water.”
Kate shakes her head. “You may be able to swim it, but not the rest of us. Those waters are frigid and the tide is strong. We’re going that way.” She points east.
I follow the line of her finger and spot a bridge spanning the water.
“I hate to be a negative Nancy,” I say, “but that bridge is missing half its middle.” There’s a distinct gap between one side of the bridge and the other. Someone must have blown it in an attempt to keep the zombies inside Braggs.
“The gap isn’t that big,” Kate says. “Maybe four feet. Five at the most.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve never jumped a five-foot gap in my life. I keep my mouth shut only because I don’t have a better idea.
We shift back into a run, hugging the coastline and heading toward the bridge.
“Um, guys?” I say. “That fire is getting bigger.” The flames are now the size of a large house.
“The strip wall is probably made from old redwood,” Ben says. “Couldn’t ask for a better accelerant.”
Kate picks up her pace, pushing us harder.
Every muscle protests. There’s so much pain I can’t even pinpoint its origin. I force myself to keep up.
The bridge looms near. A road sign names the water Noyo River.
Unfortunately, the route to the bridge forces us to pass between two hotels. They flank both sides of the road, ready to catch all the tourists that venture into town. The parking lots are jam packed with cars.
They’re packed with even more zombies.
The monsters are restless. They moan, many of them walking in tight circles as smoke fills the town of Braggs. A cluster of five get into a shoving match. They don’t use their hands so much as ram their chests and shoulders against each other.
The good news is that they’re so distracted by the smoke and each other that none notice as we steal past them, all of us running hard up the bridge.
The last bridge we went over was built to hold a train. This bridge was built to hold cars. Lots of them. It’s four lanes wide with a margin in the middle.
Cars litter the roadway. Some were abandoned, the doors left open as their owners made a run for it. There are two pileups, each lumps of three to four cars. I squint into the smoke, keeping an eye out for zombies. I grip both of my knives, palms sweaty on the grips.
A loud whoomp goes up behind us. I spin around, using my wrist to wipe at the soot on my glasses. A gout of flame shoots into the sky, embers glinting like fireworks.
“That was probably a propane tank,” Ben says. “We gotta move. This town could go up like a tinderbox, especially with gas still in the pipelines.”
The explosion sends a ripple through the zombies. Moans and keens rise from their midst.
We have to get the hell out of this town. I don’t even feel pain anymore. As I race across the bridge spanning the Noyo River, all I feel is panic.
Two zombies lurch into sight around an abandoned car. It’s a mom and her teenage daughter. Kate takes the smaller of the two in the face with her knife. Ben, by her side, takes out the larger.
The bodies slump to the ground. I vault over the body of the mother and keep running, pinning my sights on the gap in the bridge.
Who builds a town between two rivers? What happened to building a town on a nice flat piece of land with no large bodies of water to cross? If I were a king, I would definitely pick a piece of land not surrounded on two sides by water. Some people might say this is defensible, but that’s not what I call it. I call it boxing yourself in. Fuck that.
I glance over my shoulders at the zombies in the hotel parking lots. They’ve split into two groups. A large mass of them moves north toward the fire. The other mass peels off, moving away from the flames—coming up the bridge straight toward us. Leading them is a clicking, keening alpha.
“Fuck.” Caleb huffs, running beside me with Ash on his other side. “We are so fucked.”
“We just have to get over the bridge,” I huff back. Once we get over the bridge, we’ll be safe. The river will protect us from the zombies and the flames.
The gap in the road looms before us. Caleb picks up speed, charging toward the gap like a Spartan soldier. I swear I’d hate that guy for his good looks and natural athleticism if I didn’t like him.
He barrels past Kate and Ben in a sprint that I’m pretty sure would make an Olympian jealous. The rest of us pant and pump our arms like elementary kids in a game of tag, but none of us can touch Caleb.
He pulls ahead,
all his focus honed on the break in the freeway. He hits the edge and vaults into the air, flying through the dusky light like a rock fired from the slingshot.
He hits the pavement on the other side and rolls, body blurring across the ground from the force of momentum.
Seconds later, Kate flies over the edge. She gives a wild shout, her leap nowhere as controlled and focused as Caleb’s.
As she arcs over the river, I realize she’s in jeopardy. Her jump is short.
“Kate!” Ben bellows.
Her torso hits the edge of the concrete with an audible thud. Her hands scrabble at the blacktop. Her legs kick wildly over open air.
Two things happen at the same time.
Caleb rolls to a stop and springs to his feet. At the sight of Kate, he sprints back toward her.
At the same time, Ben picks up speed. He charges the gap with the wild determination of an animal. He leaps from the edge, arms windmilling as he flies over the river.
Ben hits the pavement on the other side of the gap. He trips, flying forward to roll across the blacktop. Caleb sprints past him in the opposite direction, hands reaching for Kate.
Kate manages to get one leg slung over the side of the broken bridge. Caleb grabs her arms and hauls her up the rest of the way.
Ben is there a heartbeat later, his shirt and pants torn from the rough landing. Caleb’s shirt is torn, too. Ben grabs Kate in a hug while he simultaneously shakes Caleb’s hand.
Less than fifty miles ago, those two hated each other. Now here they are, shaking hands and congratulating each other on a successful jump over the Noyo River.
I skid to a halt on the edge of the overpass, staring down at the frothing river. It’s a good two-hundred-foot plummet to the water below. My feet feel like concrete. Fear makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.
“Fuck me.” Reed backs away from the gap, shaking his head. “What the fuck? I can’t jump over that.”
“That’s not four feet.” I stare at the jagged abyss that yawns before us. It’s not even five feet. “That’s got to be six or seven feet.”
“Kate made it,” Ash argues. “If she can make it, we can make it.”
She makes it sound like Kate is the limping gazelle at the back of the herd. In truth, Kate is the toughest in our group. The only one who might be tougher is Ben, but that’s only because he spent the last thirty years of his life in active military service.
Ash backs up from the gap, halting when she’s twenty feet away. Gritting her teeth, she charges forward.
My palms sweat as she sprints past me, running like a bat out of hell. She lets up a shriek and leaps. Black hair streaks out behind her. Her long legs eat up the empty space. Her arms fling out on either side of her like she’s a giant bird of prey.
She hits the other side with both feet. The impact sends her tumbling forward, right into Caleb’s arms.
It’s like a scene from a bad romance movie. The handsome guy catches the hot girl after her death-defying leap over the chasm of death.
“Don’t worry, bro.” Reed pats my arm. “You can jump into my arms. I’ll catch you.”
Without another word, he charges the gap like a kamikaze pilot.
Reed is the fastest of us. When he sprints past me, he runs so fast his body blurs. The wind of his passage ripples the hairs on my arm.
His body catapults through the smoky air. He sails through it like a bird. The fucker looks like he was born to do this shit.
To top it all off, he lands lightly on the other side like a ballet dancer. He throws all his momentum into his feet as he races across the blacktop on his tiptoes.
I’m the only one left.
The alpha and its horde of two dozen zombies have made their way up the bridge. They’re fifty yards away and closing.
Another whoosh goes up behind them, followed by a boom. This time, the flames claw a hundred feet into the air. I hear a building collapse. The rumble of falling timber and concrete echoes through the streets.
The zombies on the bridge split up, some of them turning to hustle back into the city. Reed told me about the time Kate set fire to downtown Arcata; he said many zombies walked right into the flames, drawn to the heat and sound of the fire.
In Braggs, I’m not so lucky to have all of them turn around. At least half follow the alpha and continue on their trajectory toward me, moaning and scratching at the air.
I stare at the yawning chasm in the bridge, a lump of fear in my stomach. There is no one to make this jump for me, no bargain to be struck to get me out of the terrifying task. Magnificent pot brownies can’t get me through this. I don’t even have a flask of booze for a quick shot of liquid courage.
I flash back to a time before the apocalypse. I sat in the high school bleachers with my parents, watching Tom charge the long jump pit. Of course, Tom was an all-star track athlete, too.
He charged the sandy pit as if his life depended on it. That was how Tom did everything. Full speed.
I’d never once cried for my bother since the apocalypse hit. I wonder if I should have. But how can I cry if I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead? If my loser ass is alive, Tom must be alive, too. Hell, he’s probably rallied the survivors of Cal Poly into a functioning feudal society with proper hygiene. That would be the sort of thing Tom would do.
Has he cried for me? He probably thinks I’m long gone, his loser of a little brother lost in the first wave that devastated most of the country.
I back away from the gap. I’m not sure if it’s so I can get a running head start, or if it’s so I can run away from the bridge altogether.
Except the pack of zombies is heading straight for me. Even if I can get around them, fire is eating its way through Braggs. And all my friends are on the other side of the Noyo River.
Quit playing small. Tom’s voice scrolls in my head. Make the leap, little brother.
I don’t recall Tom ever calling me little brother. Ever. But his voice is clear in my head. So clear it’s like he’s standing next to me. Which isn’t possible, because Tom is kicking ass down at Cal Poly University. While his lame little brother is trying to figure out if he has a better chance against a wildfire and zombies, or whether he can survive a death-defying leap over the water.
Don’t be a loser, Eric. This time, it’s Lila’s voice I hear. She loved calling me that. She would say it if I brought dinner to her room or if I got mad at the Xbox.
But she’d say it when I was being a wuss, too. She called me on my shit. Like the week I peed in old water bottles because I was too scared to help anyone haul water from the creek to fill up the toilet bowl.
Don’t be a loser, Eric.
Quit playing small, little brother.
I take one more terrified look over my shoulder at the zombies and the raging fire that storms through the small coastal town of Braggs.
“Eric!” Kate screams. “Eric, jump!”
I turn toward the gap, and I run.
I don’t see the crushed Coke can until it’s too late. My shoe hits it at just the wrong angle as I jump.
The metal can slips sideways out from under my foot.
15
Precipice
KATE
When Eric’s foot slips sideways, I know he’s in trouble.
My heart seizes as he jumps. The fire that chews through Braggs casts a halo around Eric’s form. His arms windmill. His legs churn on empty air, as if an invisible walkway spans the nothingness beneath his feet.
“Shit, he’s not going to make it.”
Ben’s words crash over me. As soon as he releases the words, I know it’s true. Eric’s trajectory is too short. He’s going to miss the edge.
He’s going to fall into the Noya River and die.
“Eric!” I lunge, arms outstretched, even though there’s no mathematically possible way for me to catch him.
Ben hurls himself forward, running for the chasm. He slings off the giant backpack of weapons he’s been carrying since we left the pi
nk house. He hurls the pack into the open space, bellowing Eric’s name.
My first thought is nonsensical. How can a backpack full of weapons save Eric from a two-hundred-foot drop in the river? Does Ben intend for him to use it as a raft? As a cushion to blunt his plummet?
His intent unfurls before me in slow motion. The pack snaps out, floating in empty air for several seconds. Ben’s fist closes around one strap, knuckles white in the ever-growing firelight.
“Grab it!” he roars.
Eric’s body drops, swooshing down through the air. He collides with the large backpack, wrapping his body around it like a monkey.
The force of his collision yanks Ben to the ground. Eric disappears from sight, eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses as gravity sucks him downward. The last thing I see are his limbs wrapped around the backpack as he holds on for dear life.
Ben smacks to the ground with a grunt. His body slides across gravel and debris and he’s pulled toward the edge by Eric’s weight.
I throw myself on the ground, wrapping myself around one of his legs. “Ben!” Panic surges into my throat. Fear of losing two people I love hammers at me. “Eric!”
Caleb throws himself on Ben’s other leg, the two of us wrestling with his limbs like they’re giant anacondas. His body slides another foot, then grinds to a halt.
“Do you have him?” I cry.
“I’ve got him.” Ben’s torso is half swallowed by the gap. “Pull us up!”
I grapple with his leg, winding my fists into the fabric. I struggle into a sitting position, but as soon as I shift his body slides forward another few inches.
Ash and Reed materialize. Reed takes hold of Ben’s belt. Ash latches onto the back of his shirt. With Reed and Ash anchoring Ben’s body, Caleb and I scramble to our feet and join them. Together, the four of us pull them up.
Ben’s shoulders and head appear, dragged up from the abyss. His knuckles haven’t slackened on the strap of the backpack.
A third hand appears, latching onto the side of the broken pavement. I break away and rush toward Eric. I snatch his wrist and pull, leaning back and throwing all my weight into a counterbalance. Reed grabs me around the waist to help.
Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 103
