Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  “Um, guys?” Eric pulls off his glasses and cleans them on the hem of his shirt. “Does it look like it’s getting smokier out here?”

  Seven heads whip in the direction of Braggs. Eric slips his glasses back on and peers north with the rest of us.

  The sun has set. The stars are obscured by the smoke that chugs into the sky.

  The fire has grown bigger and more ferocious in the five minutes we’ve rested beside the road sign. In mounting horror, I realize the flames aren’t content to eat the town of Braggs. They’re chewing their way through the grassland flanking the side of the highway.

  “But, it’s wet,” Ash says. “The grass shouldn’t burn.”

  “The top of the grass is wet,” Caleb says grimly. “The undercarriage must still be dry enough to burn.”

  Dammit. Fire isn’t even the worst of our problems.

  Stumbling along ahead of the flames are zombies. Hundreds and hundreds of zombies. Where a short while ago they had marched toward the flames, they’ve now reversed direction.

  And it’s obvious why. At the forefront of the horde are two alphas, clicking and keening instructions.

  The alphas were smart enough to realize the flames are deadly. Now they’re leading a horde away from Braggs at a frightening pace down Highway 1 in a collision course with us.

  20

  Sprint

  ERIC

  If Reed or one of the other guys had asked me five minutes ago if I had another sprint in my body, I would have flipped him off. Our frantic tear through Braggs had left me ready to collapse with exhaustion.

  But there’s something about a wall of flames and a horde of zombies that inspires a person to action.

  We tear off in a frantic pack, Kate in the lead as we sprint south on Highway 1.

  I once ran fast when I stole my brother’s car keys on the night of his prom. I was pissed that he had a date with a senior girl I’d been crushing on for months. The girl, of course, had never noticed me. I’d been three years younger than her, and nerdy at that.

  Tom, of course, had dazzled her, even though he was only a junior.

  I got my vengeance. I stole his car and went out to get ice cream. He’d been forced to drive our mom’s beat-up Volvo station wagon to prom.

  I’d been grounded for a month. The worst part was that I’d felt like shit the whole time, knowing I was being a dickhead to my brother.

  Until I met Kate, that was the fastest I’d ever run in my life. It had been a twenty-yard sprint from his upstairs bedroom to the bright red Honda Civic parked on the curb in front of our house.

  Then the apocalypse had arrived, and with it, Kate. She made us do sprints around the track. She even made us run up and down the stairwell in Creekside.

  It all feels worth it when we’d been forced to tear through those last few miles of Braggs. The training had paid off and saved our lives.

  That near-death experience had been kitten’s play.

  As we streak down Highway 1 with zombies and fire hard on our heels, I finally understand what it means to sprint.

  Spit flies from my open mouth as I suck in gulps of air. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode out the front of my chest. My arms and back ache from the effort of swinging my torso back and forth in a desperate bid to outrun nature.

  My feet, already covered with blisters, are blocks of pain. I can barely feel them as they tear over the pavement. They churn, propelling me forward as fast as they can.

  Don’t be a loser, Eric.

  Quit playing small, little brother.

  I dig deep and make a silent promise to my brother and my dead girlfriend. I won’t give up. I’ll run as hard and as fast as I can until my body gives out or the fire catches up with us. I open myself up to the physical pain and embrace it.

  The fire gains on us, leaping over the open grassland like demonic gazelles. It smashes through scattered buildings and swallows trees in whole gulps.

  The zombies keen and moan. Many are devoured by the flames, but huge swaths of them continue to stagger forward and stay just ahead of the fire.

  I do my best to block out the madness behind us, to narrow my focus on my breath, my body, and the road beneath my feet.

  You could be faster than any of them if you didn’t half-ass it, Lila once said to me. It had been at the end of a particularly grueling workout in the stairwell. I think Reed had thrown up two times that day.

  No more half-assing it. There is one point I’m very clear on: I don’t want to die.

  Our group streams down the road in a pack. The waves pound against the cliffs to our right in a never-ending surge. I focus on the sound of the water, finding it preferable to the roar of the flames and the keening of the zombies behind us.

  How ironic that a little over a day ago, I never wanted to hear the ocean again after nearly drowning in it.

  Tom.

  I picture my perfect big brother. He’s crystal clear in my mind’s eye. In his jeans and a tight-fitting tee, he carries a baseball bat. A baseball bat would definitely be his weapon of choice. It was his favorite of all the varsity sports he played. He can swing that thing hard and fast. It would be his perfect zombie weapon.

  And he would take out a lot of zombies with it. Sure, some of them would be his fraternity brothers; that was inevitable. But he would save a fair number of them, along with some of the girls from the neighboring sororities.

  Now they’d be holed up on their campus, just like I was with the Creekside crew. They would be discovering new ways to survive. Tom would be their leader.

  “Don’t let up,” Kate shouts. She sucks in big gulps of air between words, trying to encourage us even as she struggles to breathe. “Whatever you do, don’t let up! This run is for keeps. You have to make it count.”

  How she can talk at all is beyond me.

  My eyes flick across the road before us. To the left is an abandoned barn, half of the roof caved in. In front of the barn is a pick-up truck with faded blue paint.

  “Truck,” Reed gasps.

  “No,” Kate snaps. “No time.”

  She’s right. The fire eats its way south, devouring everything in its path. If we stop to try and get a vehicle, it will be on us.

  “Breathe through the pain,” Kate says. “Don’t let up. Focus on the finish.”

  A sob rips itself from Ash’s throat. She keeps up, but from the look on her face, I can tell she’s in as much pain as the rest of us.

  Tom.

  My brother’s face again floats before me. Tom would make it out of this alive. Hell, he is alive, somewhere. He’s alive, and he’s keeping his frat brothers and their sorority sisters alive.

  I can do this. My brother was a golden boy, but only because he chose to be a golden boy. I chose to be a half-assed slacker.

  From now on, I choose to be a golden boy like Tom. I’m getting out of this alive. Whatever it takes. I don’t care how much I hurt. I’m not stopping until it’s safe.

  We hurtle past two abandoned cars on the side of the road. One of them has a zombie inside. The doors hang open on the other. There’s no time to look for keys.

  “Five miles.” Kate wheezes at us as she glances up from her watch. “We’ve gone five miles.”

  Halfway to Mendocino. This news might hearten me if the fire wasn’t gaining on us.

  If we can just get to Mendocino. If we can just get there, maybe we can find shelter.

  I don’t know why I think it will be any safer in Mendocino. I’ve never been there. Kate says it’s a small tourist town perched over the ocean. It sounds like a nice place. A safe place. A place where we can wait out of the fire.

  But California wildfires are monsters in their own right. This one could burn for hundreds of miles out here. I’ve seen wildfires devastate thousands of acres, and that’s with fire crews fighting to contain them.

  The hordes behind us have disappeared, devoured by the flames. There are a few stragglers, but not enough to worry me. Our true enemy is the
flames.

  Fear pumps through my veins. It fuels me, pushing me through the pain. It propels me down the road on a headlong run for my life.

  “Zombies.”

  My eyes flick up. The sky is dark. The beam from my headlamp cuts through the smoke that swirls around us.

  It illuminates another horde of zombies—this one coming straight for us. They march north on Highway 1, drawn to the sound of the fire as surely as the zombies of Braggs had been before the alphas led them away. This new horde cruising in our direction has no alpha to turn back.

  We’re going to be sandwiched between fire and two hordes of the undead.

  “Kate,” I call, panic tearing through my bloodstream. “Kate, what are we going to do?”

  She throws me one anguished glance. Her eyes rake over our small contingent, wild with fear for our safety. Then I see her jaw set.

  “Ocean,” she barks. “Now.”

  Fuck me.

  I don’t argue with Mama Bear, even though the idea of going into the ocean makes my legs want to collapse. Not to mention there are sheer cliffs between us and the water.

  We stream off the road and toward the precipice that snakes along the coast. We skid to a stop at the edge, staring over a sharp bluff that plunges straight down to the water.

  “Over the edge,” Kate orders. “Drop down to that ledge.”

  That ledge she refers to is a good ten-foot drop. Shit. My discomfort with heights clogs my throat. First the bridge, then another bridge, and now over the edge of a cliff.

  “Are you going to be a golden boy, or are you going to be a dead loser?” I mutter to myself.

  My muscles scream as I crouch down and lower myself over the side. I dangle there, digging my fingertips into the earth. I kick at the sandstone bluff, trying to find a toehold for my shoes.

  The fire rips by overhead, burning the tips of my fingers.

  I shriek, sliding down the face of the cliff. My nails snap off as I try desperately to dig them into the hard surface. My feet search for even the smallest toehold.

  I’m going to fall. I’m going to fall into the ocean and die.

  Thank God Tom is still alive. There’s still someone to carry on the family name.

  I’ll get to see Lila. I never really thought much about what happens after death, but in my gut, I’m sure I’ll see Lila again when I die.

  Someone grabs the back of my pack and yanks.

  I land on a small, uneven ledge, sprawling on my back. Ben leans over me, breathing hard.

  “You have a bald spot on your forehead,” he remarks. “At least your whole head didn’t catch on fire.”

  I have no words. I remain sprawled on my back, sucking in air and staring at the world above me where fire burns.

  21

  Nails

  JESSICA

  I lay on my side, eyes closed, aching from the inside out.

  I’m swathed in the tightest clothes I could find in the tiny closet I shared with Shaun. Tight clothes are the hardest to get off. I don’t plan to make it easy for the next asshole who comes in here.

  With several hours to go before sunrise, I have no doubt there will be another one. Since Rosario poured out all the booze, there isn’t much else to entertain our captors. The ones not on watch sit around campfire rings feasting on our hard-won food stores. I listen to them dice and tell exaggerated stories of bravery.

  “Jessie?”

  I jerk upright at the familiar voice.

  “Alvarez?” His face is a dark silhouette in the window screen. “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you okay?” He presses a hand against the screen, as though trying to touch me.

  I inch up to the screen. “They’ll kill you if they catch you.” I don’t add that they’ll kill someone else, too. From inside the RV, I can see the guards patrolling the Rotchev prison. “How did you get out?”

  “I crawled out through loose floorboards. I waited until the patrol passed then slipped over here. Are you okay?”

  The pity and anguish in his voice makes me recoil. “I’m fine.” I don’t want or need his sympathy. “How are Steph and Bella?”

  “The girls are okay. They’re scared for you.”

  “Tell them I’m fine. Tell them to take care of themselves. They should make a break for it if they get the chance. Get as far as possible from this place.”

  “Jessie ... ?”

  I shake my head at his unspoken question. There’s no reason to talk about it. “Alvarez, we have to fight. Sooner rather than later. I know we lost the booze, but—”

  “I know,” he interrupts. “Soon. We’ll attack soon. I want you to be ready.”

  He pushes against the screen. I catch it as it pops free.

  “Open your hand.”

  I extend my palm as Alvarez’s arm slips inside. He drops a handful of nails into my hand.

  “You still have that tennis racket you brought to Fort Ross?” he asks.

  “Yes.” How does he know about the tennis racket? I haven’t pulled it out since the day I took up residence in this RV with Shaun.

  “Good. And you still have that duct tape Shaun used to carry with him on missions?”

  That fucking duct tape. Shaun took it everywhere with him even before the world ended. He bought it in bulk at Costco and kept a roll in every suitcase, briefcase, and car. He was always on the lookout for it on scavenging runs.

  “Yes. I have two rolls.”

  “Good. Use it to fortify the tennis racket with the nails. Be ready.”

  I tighten my fist around the nails. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m still working out the details. My trip to you was a test run, to see if we could slip out from under the Rotchev House without being seen.” His mouth stretches into a thin line. “I just proved it’s doable. We can move out under the cover of darkness and recover the weapons we hid.”

  He has a plan. It’s a ballsy plan, but it’s not a complete kamikaze mission. “What kind of weapons did you guys hide before Rosario got in here?”

  “Lots of metal tools. Hammers. Wrenches. Stuff like that. We have things hidden all over the compound. Everyone is ready to fight.”

  They have hammers while Rosario’s people have guns. I swallow. I might be scared for Alvarez, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to fight. It doesn’t change the fact that some of us will have to die to win back our home.

  “I’m going back now.” Alvarez squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll regroup with our people and finalize our plans. With any luck, we’ll attack tomorrow night. Just hang on a bit longer. Can you do that?”

  I wish they would attack now. It’s the middle of the night and many of Rosario’s people are sleeping. But he’s right. They need time to finalize details of a plan. We’ll only have one shot at this. I need to be patient. I don’t want to endure another minute in this RV, but I will.

  Alvarez looks at me with earnest eyes. I see how much my situation pains him.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “You’re the one who has to be careful.”

  “We have the element of surprise on our side,” he replies. “They’ll never see us coming.”

  “I’ll be ready to kill when you give the signal,” I whisper.

  Something swells between us in the dark. Silence stretches. His dark eyes soak me in.

  “You’re a warrior, Jessie. A damn fine warrior. Don’t let these assholes take that from you.”

  “These assholes,” I grind out in reply, “take nothing from me.”

  He flashes me a grin. “I’ll see you soon.” He gives my shoulder one last squeeze, then disappears into the dark.

  22

  Raining Zombies

  KATE

  The six of us crouch on the rocky outcropping above the Pacific Ocean. I’d call it a ledge if it wasn’t so uneven and covered with sharp points. It’s ten feet wide at the tips and juts out no more than two feet.

  The fire burns above us, pouring heat and smoke over the edge o
f the cliff. Below us, the ocean pounds away at a rocky shoreline.

  There’s nothing for us to do but wait it out.

  Does this count as a break? I decide to pretend it’s an aid station on the most fucked up ultra I’ve ever run in my life.

  We huddle together. I find the closeness comforting, but the truth is that there isn’t room to be anything but squashed together. I’m sandwiched between Reed and Ben.

  I lean my head back against the cliff face and close my eyes. How the fuck are we going to get off this cliff? Going down isn’t an option and the top is at least ten feet above us.

  I have a wild vision of us standing on one another’s shoulders, Looney-Tunes style, in a desperate bid to escape.

  A ball of fire spurts over the cliff side, searing us with heat. We hunch down, doing our best to protect our faces. I squeeze Reed and Ben’s hands, wishing I could do more to protect the two of them. Wishing I could do more to protect all of them.

  I look down at my watch. Thirty-two hours. We’ve been on the move for all that time. Alvarez and his people have been at the mercy of Mr. Rosario for eight hours.

  My mind replays the series of disasters that have plagued us ever since we left Creekside. Running out of gas in Humboldt Bay. Getting attacked by pirates. Our boat getting destroyed by zombies in the rudder. Our subsequent shipwreck on the Lost Coast. The impassable tidal zone, hypothermia, and bear attack all seem like a really twisted joke.

  We haven’t had a break since we stepped foot on Highway 1. Between zombies, bridges, and fires, it’s done its best to eat us alive.

  And now here we are, huddling on a tiny outcropping, held hostage between the sea and the inferno.

  A growl sounds above us. I look up just in time to see a zombie totter over the side of the cliff. Flames lick across his shirt.

  He falls straight for us.

  “Incoming!” Ben bellows. “Look out!”