Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  I furtively wipe a hand across the back of my eyes, then focus my attention on the CB radio. Time to phone home.

  24

  Phone Home

  ERIC

  “Creekside, this is Mama Bear and Company, over. Creekside, I repeat, this is Mama Bear and Company. Are you there? Over.”

  “Holy fuck!” The answer explodes out of the microphone, stinging my ears with its intensity. I recognize Johnny’s voice immediately. “Mama Bear, is that really you? Over.”

  Kate’s eyes widen. Her voice wavers with emotion as she says, “Wandering Writer? Is that you?”

  “Holy fuck. It is you! Where are you guys?” Muffled noise comes out of the CB speaker. “Guys!” Johnny bellows. “Wake the fuck up! It’s Mama Bear! She’s alive!”

  I feel a grin spread across my face. I snatch the microphone from Kate. “Wandering Writer, this is Fat Loser, over. You guys okay?”

  “Fat Loser! Oh, my God, man, we’ve been so worried about you. Where the hell are you guys? Is everyone okay?”

  “Mom?” Carter’s voice fills the speaker. “Mom, are you okay? Where you are?”

  Kate takes the microphone back from me. “I’m okay, baby. We’re in Mendocino.”

  “Mendocino? Are you on your way back from Fort Ross?”

  “Negative. We haven’t made it there yet. We ... ran into some obstacles.”

  Understatement of the year. I snatch back the microphone. “Any word from Fort Ross? Have you guys heard from them?”

  “Negative,” Johnny says. “I check in with them every two hours, but they’ve gone radio silent.”

  A chill runs across my spine. Just because they haven’t answered doesn’t mean they’re dead, I remind myself. It could just mean they’re in a shit load of trouble.

  “How are you communicating with us?” Johnny asks. “You must have found a radio somewhere.”

  “We’re using a CB radio in a semi-truck. Eric figured out how to get it working.” Kate flashes me a quick smile. The quiet pride in her eyes is enough to make me feel like I could run another seventy-five miles without breaking a sweat.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” Carter asks. “Is everyone else okay?”

  It’s our turn to be silent. Kate and I look at each other.

  “Mom?”

  “Who’s there with you, baby?” Kate asks.

  “It’s just me, Wandering Writer, and SoCal.” SoCal is Jenna’s call sign. She adopted it in memory of her family and her former life in Southern California.

  Kate draws a long breath. There’s no easy way to break the news.

  “Leo is gone.” Her voice is dry with grief when she speaks. “He was gunned down in Humboldt Bay. Susan is ... Susan stayed behind in another community farther north. She was injured and couldn’t travel anymore. Tell Gary we plan to go back for her. Tell Todd ...” Kate’s voice breaks. Todd is Leo’s nephew. She takes a moment to gather herself. “Tell Todd I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  “We’ll let Gary and Todd know.” Jenna’s even voice fills the speaker. “Everyone knew the risk when they left. Tell us what’s happened to you guys.”

  Kate looks too upset to speak, so I take over. I give them a quick summary of the series of disasters we’ve encountered since leaving Creekside.

  “Now we’re seventy-five miles away from Fort Ross,” I say. “It’s pouring down rain and we’re freezing our tits off.”

  “You guys plan to keep going?” Johnny asks.

  Kate’s eyes flare. She snatches the microphone back from me. “Affirmative. We’re going to Fort Ross.”

  “Mom—”

  Someone muffles the microphone on the other end. We hear raised voices.

  It’s easy to imagine what’s going on. Carter wants his mom to turn around and come home. Jenna and Johnny are arguing with him.

  Johnny returns to the radio. “Gary and I made a ... discovery shortly after you guys left. The alpha recording isn’t as bullet-proof as we originally thought.”

  “Too late,” I say. “We used it and almost got ourselves killed.”

  “Shit,” Johnny replies. “Sorry about that. We field tested the alpha recording after you guys left. It did drive the zombies away from us, but—”

  “But it also attracted two nearby alphas,” Carter says.

  “But we have a solution,” Johnny says. “We—”

  “Man, it’s not a solution. You have to quit calling it that. It—”

  “Dude, Carter, just shut up for a second. Mama Bear, listen to me. If you can get rid of the alphas—”

  “By that, he means shoot them with a paintball gun—”

  “Shut up, man. Let me finish. We found a paintball gun and loaded it with some steel ball bearings we found in the maintenance department. They expel the bearings at almost two-hundred miles per hour. That’s fast enough to put a hole in a zombie brain. The side benefit is that paintball guns aren’t very loud.”

  “What you’re saying,” Kate replies, “is that we have to get rid of the alphas in order to use the recordings. And we have to do that without getting ourselves killed in the process.”

  Pause.

  “That’s exactly what he’s saying, Mom.”

  Kate exhales. To me, she says, “It was too much to hope for a simple cure-all, wasn’t it?”

  As though sensing our despair, Johnny pipes up again. “Do you guys still have the recorder? We have two new alpha commands. One brings the alphas toward you. The other one makes them scatter.”

  Kate’s eyes grow distant. It’s the look she gets when she’s coming up with an idea. Usually the idea is equal parts thrilling and equal parts what-the-fuck.

  “Play them for me,” Kate says. “I think we can use them.”

  “Any chance you can FedEx us that paintball gun?” I ask. “Maybe half a dozen of them? We could really use them.”

  No one laughs.

  “Are you guys really going to keep going?” Carter asks.

  “Yes,” Kate and I say together. “If Fort Ross has fallen, I’ll make sure Mr. Rosario falls, too.”

  “And you’re going to use the zombies to do it?”

  “Possibly. I’ll have to assess the situation when we get there. But I want to have the new recordings just in case.”

  Carter sighs. “Be careful out there, mom. I already lost dad. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  Kate’s face softens, as it often does when she talks to Carter. “I’ll be safe, baby. Promise. You do the same, okay?”

  It takes us another few minutes to get the new alpha recordings on Kate’s tape player. It’s a miracle the small recorder hasn’t been crushed, broken, or ruined during our trip. The plastic ZipLoc doesn’t look like it’s going to hold out much longer, though.

  When we’re finished, Kate says, “I’ll find a way to make contact when we get to Fort Ross. I’m counting on you guys to hold Creekside together until I get back.”

  “Will do, Mama Bear,” Johnny says.

  “Be safe, Mom.”

  “You, too, baby.”

  As I switch off the CB, I reach for the keys, intending to turn off the semi.

  To my surprise, Kate stops me. “Don’t turn it off."

  I frown. “What? Why?”

  “We’re driving to Fort Ross.”

  “Driving? The semi? But that will draw every zom between here and the fort.”

  Kate’s eyes are fierce when she turns to look at me. “That,” she says, “is exactly the point.”

  25

  Zombie Train

  KATE

  I can’t believe we’re driving.

  I can’t believe it was my idea.

  I sit in the passenger seat of the semi beside Ben, watching the sideview mirror. My running pack sits in my lap; I clench and unclench my hands around the straps, fighting the anxiety that knots in my chest.

  “I can’t believe we’re driving,” Reed says, echoing my own incredulity.

  “Believe it, kid.” Ben doesn’t l
ook up as he navigates the semi down the two-lane highway. Somewhere in his thirty years of military service, he’d learned to drive Class 8 vehicles. “It means we’ll be at Fort Ross soon. Get your head ready for battle.”

  The heater is on full blast, filling the cab with glorious warmth. It’s the warmest I’ve been since leaving Creekside. The drive to Fort Ross will give us all a chance to defrost and dry out.

  We’ve left the rain behind. I lean forward, squinting into the sideview mirror. A large moon sits in the sky, illuminating the train of zombies we’ve picked up over the last fifty miles.

  “What are we up to?” Ben asks me.

  “A hundred and fifty or so, give or take.”

  Considering how far we’ve driven, that isn’t a lot of zombies. If we were in an urban area, we’d have thousands of them on all sides of us. The section of road between Mendocino and Fort Ross is mostly open land.

  “That’s a fair amount to use against the fort. Have you sorted out the details of that plan yet?”

  I shake my head. My thoughts drift to Fort Ross, and what we’re going to do when we arrive.

  It’s been years since I visited the fort as a chaperone for Carter’s elementary school field trip. I wish I remembered more about the land surrounding it. There are a few trails, but I only explored them once or twice over the years. There was nothing substantial enough to draw me and Frederico there for long training runs.

  What will we find when we get there? The Fort is defensible, which presumably is the reason why Mr. Rosario set her sights on it. Thinking of that disgusting, cruel woman gets my hackles up.

  My plan is pretty loose at the moment. It’s impossible to plan specifics when we don’t even know the state of the fort. We’ll drop the semi five miles outside of Fort Ross. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot, recon the area, and devise a plan from there. If we need the zombies, we’ll have them, along with the new alpha recordings from Johnny.

  “How do our guns look?” Ben calls.

  Spread out on the narrow bed in the back of the cab are all the remaining weapons we have from Creekside. There’s also the generous collection of grenades from Medieval John. Caleb and Ash have been meticulously cleaning the firearms.

  “Almost finished,” Ash says.

  “Good,” Ben replies. “Start thinking about how we’re going to divide everything up and how you’re each going to carry them.”

  “There’s only two rifles,” Ash says. They’re folding AR-15s, which is the only reason Ben had been able to fit them into the weapons pack.

  “Eric gets one rifle,” Ben says. “He’s the best shot out here. I’ll take the second. I want everyone to have at least five grenades each. That includes you, Kate.”

  I don’t argue, even though I’d be more comfortable handling a live snake. It would be stupid to walk into this situation without weapons. Mr. Rosario scares me more than five grenades ever will.

  “My thighs and waist are chafed raw,” Reed announces. “They burn like a motherfucker even when I’m sitting still. I think it was almost better when I was running. At least then everything else hurt, too, so I didn’t really notice the chafing.”

  Caleb shoots him a quick look. “If it makes you feel better, my balls are rubbed raw. I’m pretty sure I’ll never have any children.”

  Reed gives him a lopsided grin. “Apocalyptic birth control, huh?”

  “We better get Ben on board.” Caleb cracks up at his own joke. “He’s the only one of us who’s gonna need birth control in the near future.”

  A rumble of irritation rises from Ben’s throat. He leans over the steering wheel, glaring out at the road.

  “Enough, guys,” I say, exasperated.

  The guys snicker in the back seat as we continue to rumble down the road.

  “How far back are they?” Ben asks me. His jaw has loosened.

  They are the zombies. He’s been driving slow, enabling us to gather the zombie train.

  “Quarter mile or so.”

  “We only have another few miles to drive. I’m going to speed up to put some distance between them and us. That will give us a good head start when we get out.”

  “Good plan,” I reply. We don’t want to risk getting bitten when we get out of the semi.

  I haven’t exactly figured out how I’m going to use the zombies. With any luck, I won’t need them at all. But if the situation at the fort is bad enough, having some undead at our command might be enough to tip the scales in our favor. I won’t know for certain until we recon Fort Ross.

  The engine of the big rig rumbles as Ben downshifts and accelerates. I absorb his profile, trying not to worry about what’s ahead of us. Ben has been fighting one war or another his entire adult life. If there’s anyone who can survive what’s to come, it’s him.

  So why do I have a sick feeling in my stomach?

  He turns off the road into a long driveway, parking the semi behind a thick strand of oleander bushes. “Hard to hide a beast this big. This is the best we can do.”

  “It’s a good spot.” I turn to Caleb and Ash. “Weapons ready?”

  We spend the next fifteen minutes sorting weapons and stashing them on our bodies. The Glock that Caleb hands me goes onto the belt that holds my knives and zom bat. A spare handgun goes into the back compartment. Two extra magazines go into the large front pockets of my running pack.

  Squished between the dashboard and the passenger seat where I sit, Ben fusses over the location of my five grenades. He puts two of them in smaller pockets on the upper straps of the running pack. Two more go into the stretchy cell phone pockets on either side of the leggings I wear. He frowns, searching for a place to stash the last one.

  “How about the kangaroo pouch in the back?” I suggest.

  “The what?”

  “Kangaroo pouch.” I flip the pack around. In the lower portion of the back is a compartment held closed with magnets. The magnets make the interior easily accessible without having to take off the pack.

  Ben slides the grenade inside, tugging on the fabric to test the strength of the magnets. “That’ll do,” he says after a solid sixty seconds of frowning. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than sticking it in a pouch you can’t easily reach. Promise me you’ll blow shit up if you have to?”

  “I promise.” I squeeze his hand, anxiety gnawing at my gut. “How’s everyone doing back there?” I ask the rest of the group. They’ve been oddly quiet.

  “We’re taking bets on whether or not you two will start making out before we leave,” Reed says.

  “I told them it’s not dangerous enough,” Eric adds. “You guys only make out after near-death experiences.”

  “I told them the old man isn’t going to let his lady go into battle without a big wet one.” Caleb gives Ben a wicked grin.

  “I told them they’re being children,” Ash proclaims.

  “You little shitheads make me crazy.” Ben throws open the door and jumps down.

  I follow him. Cold ocean air slams into my wet clothing.

  “I’m stashing the keys here.” Ben deposits them on top of the front passenger wheel. “That way we don’t risk losing them. They’ll be here for whoever needs them.”

  The others haven’t joined us yet. I tug on his hand, pulling him into the shadow of the semi.

  “Be careful out there.” I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I can’t lose you.”

  “I’m too mean to die.” He draws me close. “Keep the crazy shit to minimum, okay? And don’t hesitate to use this.” He taps the hilt of my gun. “We’re not going up against zombies this time. A bullet could be the difference between living and dying.”

  I nod, hoping I won’t have to follow his advice.

  “I mean it, Kate. I’ll kick your ass if anything happens to you.”

  “Dude.” Reed drops down out of the semi. “Let’s go back to the Dating for Dummies book. I guarantee that line was nowhere in that book.”

  Ben turns away from me, growling somethin
g unintelligible at Reed.

  “Dude, I’m just trying to help.”

  Ben curses before marching toward the road. I shake my head at Reed, unable to suppress a small smile. Reed is always good at diffusing tension.

  “Silence from here on out,” I say as the six of us assemble on the asphalt.. “We stay together until we see Fort Ross. Then we split into our teams, recon the fort, and meet back at the designated rendezvous to finalize our attack plans. Any questions?”

  No one has a joke or a sarcastic comment this time. I take in my small group, savoring this moment with the six of us. There isn’t anyone here I wouldn’t give my life for.

  “All right. Let’s go. Everyone be safe and be smart.”

  I lead them out at an easy run.

  We run without headlamps. If Rosario posts a watch—and it would be stupid to think otherwise—the headlamps will expose us from miles away. It’s slow going without any decent light, but at least the moon is out. At least it’s not raining anymore.

  Ben falls into step beside me. It feels good to have him close. Maybe someday, we can go for a real run together. Not a training run. Not a supply run. Not a frantic run for our lives. Just a regular fun run for the sheer joy of running and being together.

  I would like a world like that.

  We make very little sound as we move down the deserted highway. My eyes constantly roam the area, flicking between the road and the land on either side of us.

  Over the years of running, I’ve developed an innate sense of mileage. I mentally count down the miles as we run. Five. Four.

  The eastern sky turns from black to charcoal gray. Sunrise is near. I pick up the pace, knowing we’ll have to get off the road before sunrise or risk being spotted.

  Three miles. Two miles. One.

  The land drops away into a cove. And suddenly, there it is. Perched in the innermost curve of the cove, is Fort Ross. The great wooden fortress from a time long ago is once again made relevant in the apocalypse.

  We draw to a halt, stepping off the road into a cluster of trees. The sky is a dark gray. The moon edges into the horizon, withdrawing its light.