Undead Ultra (Book 3): Lost Coast

by Picott, Camille

  Time is running out. If I delay any longer, someone is going to drown. Someone might drown anyway.

  Don’t think like that, I chastise myself. We’re all going to make it. Even if I have to drag one of my companions by the hair, I’m going to make sure every one of us gets safely to the shore.

  “We should be happy it’s not raining,” Eric says. “That would really suck.”

  “Dude, way to see the glass half full on a boat sinking into the ocean.” Reed and Eric exchange high fives.

  “Can we save the high fives for the beach?” Caleb growls.

  “We might not all have hands to high-five with by the time we get to shore,” Reed argues. Despite his light tone, the whites show all the way around his eyes. He’s as terrified as the rest of us. “Eric and I were just seizing the moment. Carpe diem and all that.”

  Time to put a stop to the pointless banter before someone ends up with a fist in his face. Judging by the tension knotting Caleb’s shoulders, that could be any second now.

  “Everyone makes it to shore alive.” I make my voice firm, giving everyone my mother-knows-best confident look. “We take care of one another, and we all survive. We jump on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three!”

  I grab the railing with one hand and fling myself over the side. I scream all the way down. Which isn’t very far.

  There are a lot of warm oceans in the world. Florida, Hawaii, Mexico, and Southern California to name a few.

  Northern California doesn’t make the list. Not by a long shot, and not at any time of the year.

  The current hits me like a fist, frigid water closing over my head in a burst. Cold shoots all the way to my core, numbing me almost instantly.

  The ocean soaks my running pack, seawater saturating the light fabric and everything inside. The pack pulls at my shoulders, creating resistance as I kick upward.

  My head breaks the surface, bare feet and arms churning to keep me afloat. Salt stings my eyes. I turn in a quick circle, making a scan for all my people.

  Reed and Eric are with me in the water. Ash and Caleb are ten feet in front of us, the two of them already swimming toward with shore with long, sure strokes.

  Ben and Susan are nowhere in sight.

  I spin around, looking back up to the boat. Ben is at the railing, yelling for Susan to hurry. She appears seconds later, red hair blowing in every direction.

  Big bubbles push to the surface of the water, air pockets from the boat as it sinks from the tear in the hull.

  “Jump,” I shout to them.

  Susan turns, moving away from the railing. Ben grabs her, scooping her up. She yells and struggles. Ben drops her over the edge and leaps into the water after her.

  “Go,” I say to Reed and Eric, not waiting to see Susan and Ben surface. They’re both in the water; I have to trust they’ll help each other to shore. “Swim!”

  The two of them break into an awkward simulation of the freestyle. It looks more like a glorified dog paddle. My own movements are no better.

  Waves knock me in every direction; sometimes forward, sometimes backward, sometimes sideways. My eyes sting from the saltwater. It’s so cold I can hardly breathe.

  At one point, a pair of waves smashes me and Eric into one another. I grunt, the impact with Eric shoving me under. I kick back to the surface later, fighting my way forward.

  “Rock,” Reed screams. “Rock!”

  I turn my head just in time to see an angular black form. It’s right in front of me.

  My heart pounds. I jerk, swimming as hard as I can to the right, trying to cut around the rock. Water surges. My shoulder and rib cage connect painfully with the stone.

  My bare feet scape against the rock. Pain spiders through me. I use the contact to push free, shoving myself out and away from the rock. Another swell lifts me, threating to suck me backwards into the rock. I kick with my legs and pull with my arms, straining to break free.

  I burst past the swell just in time. It bursts against the rock. The rebound force pushes me forward, another five feet closer to the shore.

  I keep swimming, flicking my eyes in search of Eric and Reed. They’re five feet in front of me, both pushing hard for the shore. Reed’s head swivels as he searches for me.

  “Right behind you!” My shout swirls away in the crashing waves. I’m not sure if Reed heard me until I see him turn his attention back to the shoreline.

  My legs and arms burn from the exertion. My eyes sting from the assault of saltwater. I cough and splutter each time a wave hits me in the face, choking on the briny water that inevitably creeps into my mouth and down my throat.

  My running pack drags on me, weighing me down. I grit my teeth, refusing to cast it aside. Losing it could mean dying.

  One hundred yards, I tell myself. That’s how far it is to the shoreline. What’s one hundred yards compared to a one-hundred-mile race?

  Piece of cake. I’ve got this.

  Another wave crashes over my head, pushing me down.

  One hundred yards. So what if I feel like a drowned rat? I’ve trained for this my entire life, albeit on land instead of in water. I can do this. Pain and physical discomfort is nothing but an inconvenience. It can’t stop me.

  Something scrapes against my feet. A swell flings me forward. I sprawl onto my stomach, the water pushing my body over a jumble of fist-sized rocks.

  A yowl bursts from my lungs. Water crashes over my head, causing me to choke on another mouthful of seawater. It shoves me hard against the rocks. They scrape against my ribs and knees.

  Someone grabs my left arm. Someone else grabs my right. I sputter, spitting out water as Eric and Reed haul me to my feet. The side of Reed’s face is bloody, blood running out of his nose and along the side of his face from a bad scrape. Half of Eric’s shirt is torn, blood staining the edges of the fabric.

  I latch onto my boys, letting them help me over the rocks. The three of us huddle together against the sheer cliff face that borders the beach.

  I suck in great gulps of air, wiping water that drips into my eyes. “You guys okay?”

  Even as I ask the question, I scan the shoreline. Nearby, Caleb and Ash climb out of the water, holding onto one another as though the wind might whip them apart. They wrestle with the rope attached to Caleb’s belt, hauling in the weapons pack. Ash sports gashes on both knees.

  Ben. Susan. They aren’t here yet.

  I pick my way back toward the waves, large rocks stabbing at the bare soles of my feet. Every step hurts. It feels like the stones are trying to punch through my skin.

  Ben. My chest seizes. Where is he?

  I rotate my head to the left and right, scanning the waves.

  There. I see them. They paddle beside one another, pushing hard for the shore.

  The pain in my feet becomes inconsequential. I shed my pack and rush forward, splashing up to my knees in the surf.

  Susan and Ben ride the waves. A swell picks them up, hurling both straight toward the shore.

  I jump toward Ben, latching onto his arm as he surges by. Caleb appears out of nowhere, grabbing Susan. The two of us hold onto our friends, keeping them from doing a face plant into the rocky shore.

  Ben manages to get his legs underneath him, locking wobbly knees as the tide rushes back out.

  He coughs up water. Leaning on his knees, he vomits up what seems like half the ocean. His chest heaves as he straightens.

  “I’ve never been much of a swimmer,” he gasps.

  I give his arm an encouraging squeeze. “Join the club. Come on, let’s get the weapons in.”

  Together, we haul on the rope still tied to his belt. The pack catches a few times on the rocks, but with a little patience, the ebb of the tide eventually brings it to us.

  My teeth chatter as I stand there in sopping wet clothes. Ben shivers beside me.

  “If I was good with words, I’d find a subtle way to put my arm around you,” he says, teeth chattering. “We both know how well that would go so I’m jus
t gonna lay it out straight. I’m freezing my balls off. Can I put my arm around you?”

  I can’t help it. I bark a laugh. Ben does that eye-crinkle thing again, swinging the sopping weapons pack onto his back.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Only because you’re freezing your balls off. If it was any other appendage you’d be out of luck.”

  “Look at that,” Caleb says. “One of your moves finally paid off, old man.”

  I’d forgotten he was standing here, but I’m too cold to care. Ben flips him the bird and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his side.

  Truth be told, it doesn’t help. I’m still freezing. But it feels good to have him touch me.

  I haven’t been touched—really touched—since Kyle died. It’s been almost three years. It makes me realize how lonely I’ve been. I relax against Ben as we join the rest of the group against the face of the cliff, enjoying this odd moment between us.

  The rest of the group is huddled together. The beach is strewn with debris. Driftwood, lumps of seaweed, and even the bodies of unfortunate sea creatures. A half-decayed bird carcass is tangled in a clump of seaweed. Dead starfish and purple sea urchins dot the rocks. I even spot the scattered bones of long-dead animals.

  Past the crashing waves, I see the angles of the sinking ship. Susan watches in stony silence. I can’t tell if it’s tears or seawater streaking her cheeks.

  “The Fairhaven was everything to us,” she says to no one in particular, voice dull. “All our savings. Our home. Our livelihood.”

  No one says anything. I search for the right words. In some ways, it feels like another fatality. I know it’s only a boat, but to Susan, it’s so much more than that. Hell, to all of us it’s more than just a boat. It was our way to Alvarez.

  It was our way back to Arcata.

  Another fatality on my shoulders. If I hadn’t insisted on trying to help Alvarez, Leo would still be alive. The Fairhaven would still be in one piece.

  “It was a total bitch to get to the boat from Creekside anyway,” Reed says after a few moments of extended, glum silence. “If I had to cross Samoa Highway one more time, I was gonna go postal.”

  This breaks up the tension. It also, unfortunately, brings up the next question.

  “Now what?” Caleb asks.

  Everyone looks at me.

  Yeah, now what, Mama Bear? I think bitterly. Here I thought I’d be a knight in shining armor rescuing Alvarez and the residents of Fort Ross. All I’ve managed to do is get some of my people killed and strand the rest on a deserted beach.

  I look at my watch. Nine hours have passed. The first of Alvarez’s people will be executed in fifteen hours. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  I don’t know where we are, but we must be at least a hundred miles away from Fort Ross, probably farther. My people could make the journey, but at what cost? How many others will I lose?

  “This isn’t what you guys signed up for,” I say. “We’ve had nothing but disaster since we set out from Creekside. Everything has been complete shit and we haven’t even gone very far. And now we’re beached like dead whales who-knows-where.” Anger creeps into my voice, frustration over our situation. “I have no idea how to get home. I have no idea how to get to Fort Ross.”

  I sweep my gaze over each face. Susan stares at her sinking boat. I think half her heart is still on the Fairhaven. Reed and Eric watch me with blind loyalty. I have no doubt they’ll follow wherever I lead. Their devotion is a heavy weight to bear.

  Ash and Caleb aren’t much different. When they look at me, they see their leader.

  And then there’s Ben. I may not know how to handle the attraction between us, but I have no doubt he’ll go wherever I lead.

  I can’t do this. I can’t drag them into more danger. The price has already been too high.

  “Home.” The word is dragged from my throat. “We need to figure out a way home.”

  I expect sighs of relief. I expect a few them to be happy the crazy train is turning around.

  “That’s not what you really want to do,” Ben says. “Don’t lie to us.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t drag you guys on foot all the way to Fort Ross. It’s—Susan, how far is it?”

  She shrugs, turning away from the water. “Hundred miles, give or take.” Rummaging around in her pack, she pulls out the sodden tide book and a crinkled map. “Let me figure out where we are.”

  “You don’t know?” Ben asks her. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

  “Getting shot at and driving through a zombie drag net may have fucked up on my concentration,” Susan shoots back.

  Surprise registers on Ben’s face; the idiot is no doubt just realizing he was being an ass. I step between them in an effort to spare them both.

  “It’s not fair for me to drag you guys a hundred miles into a war that might be lost by the time we get there,” I say.

  “It probably won’t be lost.” Ben surprises me with his optimism.

  “You—you don’t think so?”

  He shrugs. “There will just be a bigger shit hole to dig them out of.”

  Now there’s the cynicism I’ve come to expect.

  “Leo wanted Rosario taken down,” Ash says. “If we turn back now, he’ll have died for nothing.”

  “If we turn back now, I sacrificed the Fairhaven for nothing.” Susan’s jaw is set in a hard line as she grips the edges of her soggy map. “I know everyone here has lost a home. I shouldn’t be such a baby about it. But dammit, I loved—love—that boat. If I have to face Gary and tell him it’s gone, I want it to be for a good reason.”

  “They need us,” Reed says. “Alvarez is our friend. You said he saved your life.”

  “He did, but—”

  “Foot Soldier saved my mama. Life for a life. Let’s go get his sorry ass and kill those fuckers who want to steal his house.”

  “Fort,” Eric corrects. “It’s a frontier fort, Reed, from—”

  “Dude, you know what I mean!”

  “Don’t quit on us now,” Ash says. “You’re our Mama Bear. Mama Bear doesn’t quit when things are hard and scary. Hell, you went unarmed into the frat house and delivered that bottle of brandy laced with acid. This is practically a cakewalk compared to that. Tell me I’m wrong.” Her eyes narrow at me in challenge.

  My throat tightens. Emotion presses against the back of my eyes. I try one more time. “This has been nothing but a shit show since we left Creekside—”

  “And it’s going to be a shit show no matter what direction we go.” Eric leans forward. “You’ve trained us for this, Kate. We’re ready to make this journey. We can get to Fort Ross in, what? A day if we push hard? Maybe two?”

  “Two at most,” Reed agrees. “I’m pretty sure Alvarez would rather us be fashionably late than not show up at all.”

  I draw in a long, slow breath. When I cast my eyes around the circle, I see six people ready to walk into hell. Or run into hell, if I’m being accurate.

  “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”

  People slap one another on the back and grin. Reed wraps me in a bear hug.

  So much for trying to do the right thing.

  “If there are survivors at Fort Ross, we save them,” Ben says. “And if there are no survivors, we eliminate every last one of Rosario’s people.”

  “Even if we have to burn down Fort Ross to do it,” I add.

  This time, Caleb gives me a bear hug. “That’s the Mama Bear we know and love. Did you bring any acid?”

  I punch him lightly on the shoulder as everyone laughs.

  “We build a fire and take a one-hour break to dry and get warm,” I say. “Then we get moving. We need to cover as much ground as we can before the sun goes down.”

  We break into small groups. I stray away by myself to gather driftwood and dry seaweed, needing to think. Our journey is not going to be easy. I need to—

  “Guys!” It’s Reed. “Look what I found.”

/>   Reed holds a long piece of driftwood in one hand, holding it over a small exposed section of sand about twenty feet away.

  Approaching him, I spot the biggest footprint I’ve ever seen. It’s round, four inches across the widest part with five giant toes.

  A chill crawls up my spine that has nothing to do with my damp clothing or the coastal breeze.

  “I was just taking a piss when I noticed it,” Reed explains, using his free hand to gesture with excitement. “I mean, what are the chances I’d find it? There’s hardly any exposed sand out here. Do you think—?”

  “Oh, shit.” Susan’s words crackle.

  I stiffen, turning sharply in her direction. “What?”

  “Motherfucker.” She stares at the map in horror. “We’re in one of the impassable zones of the Lost Coast.”

  “What?” My stomach flip-flops. “What makes you say that?”

  Susan spreads the sodden map out on the ground, weighing the corners down with rocks. The rest of us gather around for a closer look.

  “See here and here?” Susan taps two curves of the coastline on the map. “That the spit of land you see there”—she points to a jetting cliff just north of us—“is this point. And that point to the south of us is right here.” Again, she shows us a place on the map. “We’re in the southern impassable zone of the Lost Coast.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Is there any chance you could be mistaken?”

  “Even without the map, the signs are all here,” Susan replies. “That footprint Reed found belongs to a black bear. Bears live on the Lost Coast. Plus there are all the dead animals on the beach.” Her eyes are anguished as she gestures to the dead bird, the many animal bones, and the dried up sea urchins and starfish. “The impassable zone is infamous for killing everything. I’m so sorry. I should have been paying better attention. Now the tide is coming in ...”

  I momentarily stop breathing. She’s right. The tide has been creeping in ever since we arrived. I don’t need a tide chart to see the strip of land between the cliffs and the water is narrowing.

  This is bad. Very, very bad.