Undead Ultra Box Set | Books 1-4

by Picott, Camille

  ERIC

  There’s a battle raging in Fort Ross. The walls are burning, zombies are everywhere, and Rosario’s and Alvarez’s people are engaged in what I’m pretty sure is a good old-fashioned brawl.

  And in the middle of all this is a kiss fest. Ben and Kate on the right, Ash and Caleb on the left.

  “Hello? Guys?” I say. “Is anyone going to cut me free?”

  The two couples break apart. Kate cuts me free, gathering me and Ash in a quick hug.

  “Got your back, bro.” Reed produces a pair of glasses. “Lucky for you, some undead out there had a pair. He said you could borrow them.”

  “Thanks.” I slide them on. The world leaps into focus. The prescription is stronger than mine, but all things considered, that’s a small concern.

  A woman with a nail-studded tennis racket races past us. She and a teenage girl charge after a man with scraggly hair and a wispy goatee. The woman swings her racket like a bat, connecting with the side of the man’s head. He drops with the cry as nails puncture his temple.

  The teenage girl darts in with a chunk of wood. She raises it over her head and brings it down. The woman with the tennis racket joins her. Together, they make short work of Rosario’s man before darting off in search of their next prey.

  Damn. Alvarez has some badass ladies around here.

  Reed slaps me on the back. Pain ripples across my shoulder.

  “Ouch. Careful, dude.”

  Reed ignores me, wrapping me in a quick bear hug. “Thanks for not dying, dude. Nice to have you not dead.”

  Ignoring the physical discomfort, I return Reed’s back slap and glance past him to the battle raging around us. “Come on. We have to help.”

  I glance at the nearly dead man still tied to the pole. I want to cut him down, but he looks close to turning.

  “Sorry, bro. I’ll come back and check on you when all this shit is over.”

  “Leave me,” he slurs. “I’m dead anyway.”

  Kate, Caleb, Ash, and Ben are already heading into the fray. Reed and I rush after them. The knot of battle is concentrated right inside the gates, a mash of humans and zombies.

  Thanks to the new glasses, I can make out the details of the fight. People fight with guns, knives, rocks, screwdrivers, and bare hands.

  What I zero in on is the contingent of zombies pouring through the open shattered fort wall. There are already at least thirty of the monsters inside, but there’s a huge swell of them racing straight toward the fort.

  “Shit,” Reed says. “Kate’s zombie train. They followed us here. We have to block them from getting inside.”

  “Motorhome. Come on.”

  We veer right, heading toward the nearest motorhome. It’s an older model, tan with the dark brown W on the side. It looks like a relic from the seventies.

  My body protests with every step I take. I lock away the pain like Kate taught me to do. I can focus on it later. When Rosario and all her fuckheads are dead.

  Reed pulls out his gun, pausing just outside the door. He hands me one of his knives.

  I take his blade and grip the door handle. I yank it open.

  Nothing.

  I peer around the door—and come face to face with an armed man.

  I jump back as a shot is fired. The heat of it sears over my head.

  “Right side,” I yell at Reed. “He’s on the right!”

  Another shot is fired. I crouch. Reed sticks his gun into the camper and fires until the gun clicks empty.

  “Dammit,” he mutters. “I wanted to save a few bullets.”

  “Didn’t Ben teach you to count your rounds?”

  “I forgot! It’s hard to remember everything, you know?”

  We peer around the door, ready to leap back at any sign of life from Rosario’s man.

  He’s dead on the floor, a widening pool of blood spreading across the faded linoleum.

  “Good shot, dude.”

  “What can I say?” Reed replies. “I’m a fucking badass. Come on.”

  I slam the door behind us and lock it, just in case one of Rosario’s men tries to get in. My feet squelch in the fresh blood. I grab onto the kitchen table to keep from sliding.

  The inside of the RV is as retro as the outside. It has the same décor it was built with fifty years ago. Wood paneled floor and walls. Orange-and-pea-green plaid upholstery. There’s even a macramé wall hanging over the kitchen table.

  “Knife,” Reed says. “Give it to me.”

  I knife the dead guy in the temple, then pass the bloody blade to Reed. He wipes it on his pants and plops into the driver’s seat. Before I think to ask what he’s doing, he rams the blade into the ignition.

  “Dude! What the hell?”

  “This is a trick Kate told me about. She learned it from her friend on the way to Arcata. These older vehicles are easy to steal.” Reed turns the knife handle, grinning over his shoulder at me as the RV sputters to life. “A screwdriver or knife in the ignition works just as well as a key. Now buckle up.” Reed throws the motorhome into drive. “We’ve got people to run over and zombies to block.”

  I pick up the dead guy’s weapon and join Reed in the front. From the vantage point of the RV, I spot Kate and Ben in the fray. Kate has a bandage around one arm. She has the tape player out, herding a large group of zombies away from Alvarez’s people. Ben backs her up, a gun in each hand. He shoots anything that tries to attack them.

  “Mama Bear is clearing out the dead.” Reed grins. “Alvarez isn’t the only one with badass women at his disposal.”

  The motor home rolls forward, lurching and sputtering. Reed aims it right at a group of Rosario’s men that open fire on a group of Alvarez’s people.

  I roll down the window, taking aim with my borrowed gun.

  “Shit.” I fire just as the motorhome hits a pothole. The shot goes wide. “Avoid the potholes if you can.”

  “You’re the sniper. Snipe something and quit complaining.”

  The RV picks up speed, chewing its way across the hard-packed dirt. I fire again. A man drops. I then take aim again. Another one of Rosario’s assholes falls to the ground.

  Reed plows right into two remaining goons. One of them hits the windshield and smashes the glass. The other is catapulted through the air and lands on top of a zombie. Before he can recover, the zombie clamps onto him and bites down on his shoulder.

  “Four for four,” Reed crows.

  He maneuvers the RV around a bigger, larger motorhome. This is a new Winnebago, a sleek gray one with chrome wheels.

  The fire has spread to the north side of the fort. The redwood beams crackle with flames. The zombie horde is closing in, no more than two hundred feet away. Reed pulls the vehicle in front of the opening just as a burning timber crashes across the front hood.

  “Please wait until the bus has come to a complete stop,” Reed says, mimicking the monotone voice of an airplane safety video. Without changing tone, he adds, “Then get your pretty white ass out of the RV before it catches on fire.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. The passenger side door is right next to the fire. I crawl out after Reed, exiting on the driver’s side.

  The battle is fading. Alvarez’s people are gaining ground, chasing after Rosario’s men as they flee.

  Kate has managed to herd a big group of zombies on the southern side of the fort. Using the alpha zom recording, she drives them toward the opening Alvarez blew in the wall. Ben, as always, has her back.

  I spot the tennis player and her teenage sidekick nearby as they beat another man to death with their weapons. The woman’s face is spattered with blood and her hand is badly burned, but that doesn’t stop her.

  A man stands near the well with a pump and a giant fire hose, shouting for help. A knot of people has gathered there. They roll out the hose. Caleb and Ash are among them. Caleb carries the front of the hose, hustling toward the wall.

  “Come on,” I say, yanking on Reed’s shirt. “They need help putting out the fire
.”

  We dodge through the battlefield, taking out a few zombies as we stumble across them. Reed reaches the line before me, grabbing a big section of the hose.

  I draw up short as I spot a zombie materialize from behind a tent. It lumbers southward, drawn to the alpha recording. Its trajectory carries it straight toward Ben.

  Shit, he’s busy fighting off one of Rosario’s assholes. They both appear to be out of bullets. That zombie is going to run right into them while they try to punch each other to death.

  “Ben!” Kate cries. “Look out!”

  Hearing her voice ignites something inside me. Kate already lost one love. I know how much I still hurt over the loss of Lila, and I was only with her for a few months. I refuse to let some undead fuck hurt Kate.

  I raise the gun I stole off the body in the RV. Not as good as a rifle, but it will do. I grit my teeth, set my stance, and fire.

  “Eric!” Reed’s voice pounds at me. “Eric, dude, look out!”

  The first bullet clips the zombie, sending him sideways.

  Fuck. I rack, chamber another round, and fire.

  “Eric! Get down, man!”

  The second bullet blows straight through the zombie’s head. It drops a mere foot away from Ben as the old man stabs Rosario’s goon in the chest with what looks like a half-crumpled tin can.

  Pain rips through me.

  “Eric!”

  38

  End

  KATE

  Like a slow-motion film clip, I see the bullet strike Eric in the chest. Blood explodes outward from his body.

  He falls.

  “No!” I drop the tape player. “Eric!” I sprint across the fort compound. “Eric!”

  It’s one of Rosario’s men. He clawed his way free from a pile of bodies. No one saw him.

  And he’s just shot Eric.

  The tennis player rounds the pile of bodies, lips pulled back in a snarl. She clubs Rosario’s sniper in the head with her nail-studded tennis racket. A teenage girl wielding a large piece of wood whacks him from the other side.

  Eric doesn’t move.

  “No!” I close the distance, skidding across the dirt to Eric’s side. “Eric, no!”

  Not another one. I can’t lose another one of my kids. I can’t.

  I press my hands over his chest. Blood pumps out between my fingers. One lens of his glasses is completely obscured with it.

  “Eric,” I sob, watching his eye film over. “No-no-no-no-no!”

  He rests his hand over mine. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Lila says I’m not a con anymore. And she just called me an ass wipe.”

  “Eric, don’t you dare die on me! Don’t you dare!”

  “Worth it,” he whispers. “It was worth it. Tom and Lila are here, Mom.”

  “Tom?” I shriek. “Who the fuck is Tom? Eric, god dammit, stay with me!”

  Everyone comes in a rush of color. Ash, Caleb, and Reed—they’re all here. The only one not here is Ben, but that’s because he’s taken up the tape player and is driving back the zombies.

  “Do something!” I shout at Ash. “Help him!”

  “There’s nothing I can do, Mamita,” she whispers. “It’s a chest wound.”

  “Bullshit,” I scream at her. “Do something!”

  “It’s okay,” Eric rasps. “It’s okay, Mom.”

  His eyes glaze over. The hand on top of mine falls away, thumping softly to the ground.

  I lean over, burying my face in his shoulder as I sob.

  Reed drops to the ground beside us. I raise my face to look into his ashen one.

  “I was out of bullets,” he says numbly. “I was out of bullets, Mama. I couldn’t save him.” Tears leak down his face. “I was too far away.” Reed lets out a long, agonized groan. He pulls at his hair, more tears gushing from his eyes.

  Gripping Eric’s body in my arms, I watch my other son’s heart break open.

  39

  Angel

  JESSIE

  I kneel in the dirt, tennis racket still gripped in one hand. The top is dented, misshapen, and coated with gore. Two-thirds of the nails are gone. Most of the strings have been burned away. The tape that wrapped the handle is charred. So is my hand. I feel the pain from a distance.

  I rise from the earth, staring down at the body of Shit Stain.

  He’s the last of the assholes who raped me. With Bella’s help, I got them all except for Homer Simpson. Homer would have been mine, but Alvarez got to him first. He stabbed the asshole four times in the chest. I’m okay with that.

  My heart beats in my chest. Satisfaction burns in my blood. All those ideologists who preach turning the other cheek can go fuck themselves. This is the best I’ve felt in months. Revenge is a dish best served. Period.

  I scan what’s left of Fort Ross. The battle is over. Rosario’s people are all dead.

  Half of the fence has been destroyed. Men and women work the well, pumping water onto the flames. Four of the motor homes are beyond repair. All that’s left of my RV is a blackened pile of smoldering steel. People scurry back and forth with wounded. The zombies are being driven out of the fort by a salt-and-pepper haired man with a tape recorder.

  I turn in a slow half circle, my eyes searching, searching ...

  I spot Shaun. He’s exactly where he’s been for the last twenty-four hours, tied to the laundry pole.

  My heart crumples at the sight of his wrecked, dying body.

  I stride toward him, surprised to feel tears stinging my eyes. Bella follows in my wake. We stop before him. My pulse kicks up as I take him in, breathing hard.

  He’s still alive. The sickness of the zombie bite is apparent. The wound is encrusted with maggots, flies, and dried blood. Ugly, grayish-red veins creep up his neck. His irises are covered in a light white film. By the way he blinks up at me, I know he’s having trouble seeing.

  I scan the nearby bodies, searching for a knife. Bella spots one first. She retrieves it from the body of one of our people. Cleo had been her name.

  Bella hands me the knife with the reverence of an acolyte. Her body is coated in blood. Her eyes are wild and fierce.

  Thank God I’d gotten to her before it had been too late. I’d been too late for Steph, but at least I’d saved one of them.

  I take the knife from Bella. I slice through Shaun’s ropes. The knife is dull, forcing me to saw, but I get through them.

  Shawn stumbles as the ropes fall away. I catch him in my arms and gently lower him to the ground. Cradling him in my lap, I press a kiss to his forehead.

  Bella stands at a respectful distance with the chunk of wood from the wall. Her eyes scan the area, alert for any threat that may come our way. She’s protecting my last few moments with Shaun.

  This is the end. Shaun’s time on earth is over. Our time together is over.

  Sadness seeps across me in a slow warmth. I realize with a shock that my anger is gone, snuffed out. I don’t know if it’s a temporary paralysis that will return once the shock of the battle wears off, or if some part of me is returning back to life.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I whisper.

  A strangled sound gargles out of Shaun’s throat. His hand comes up to cup mine.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie,” he slurs. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Me, too.” I hunch over at the pain and sorrow that grip me. “I love you.”

  “You’ll always be my angel.”

  Angel. That’s what he used to call me when we were married. Angel.

  His hand tightens over mine. I stare into his filmy eyes. And even though I know he can’t see me clearly, he can see well enough. Our entire life passes between us. I gather the memories close. I gather him close.

  When I take in the shape of his eyes and brow, I see Claire. His sharp nose and full mouth had been inherited by our other daughter, May.

  There’s a moment when I feel like the four of us are together again. Me, Shaun, Claire, and May.

  The sensation lasts for the span o
f a heartbeat. The wind shifts around me and blows it away. It’s just me and my dying ex-husband.

  “Is he ...?”

  I look up. Alvarez hurries toward us. He’s covered in soot and blood. He looks like he just fought his way out of hell, but he’s alive.

  He drops to the ground on Shaun’s other side and squeezes his friend’s hand. A spasm flashes across his features as he takes in Shaun’s condition.

  “We made it, brother,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “We beat them. Fort Ross is ours again.”

  A smile pulls at Shaun’s mouth. His eyes shift from me to Alvarez, then back to me again.

  “Take care of each other,” he says to us.

  I choke on a sob and kiss him one last time.

  Then I slide the knife into his temple. Shaun slumps, finally released from the prison of his body.

  He’s gone. Really and truly and completely gone from my life.

  I don’t even have our children anymore.

  Head and shoulders bowed, I bend over his body in silence. I have no tears, but I do feel sorrow. True, genuine sorrow.

  It’s more than I’ve felt in the last six months.

  40

  Hope

  JESSICA

  I stand naked in the ocean as the sun warms my face.

  Half a mile north, I watch the woman named Kate. Using an alpha recording, she drives the last of the zombies toward a one-hundred-foot cliff above the ocean.

  Alvarez credits her with his survival during those initial days of the outbreak. He’s never shared any of the details of those days with me, but I can well imagine this woman inspiring Alvarez. I saw her sobbing over the body of a young man she lost in the battle. Anyone with that much love in her heart is inspiring. And since she traveled all the way here on foot to help us, she’s clearly as tough as shit. I might not know her, but I already like her.

  With Kate are the survivors who traveled with her from Arcata. Ben. Caleb. Ash. Reed. Anyone can see they’re a tight-knit group. They follow Kate in a loose circle, ready to kill any zombie that gets too close to her.

  My body shivers as the cold salt water of the Pacific Ocean buoys me up. It washes away the depraved acts endured by my body. It feels fantastic.