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  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 something 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.

  The old Russian fort was impressive before the apocalypse. In this new landscape, it seems too good to be true. Towering wooden walls of redwood rise twelve feet high, surrounding the fort in a perfect square. Each fence post is topped with a wooden spike. The walls are six inches thick, built oh-so-long ago to hold off Native American attacks.

  Inside the fort are five large structures. Like the fences, they are constructed of thick redwood plants. A lookout tower stands at the southwest and northeast corners, both of them slotted with openings for cannons. I recall the fort having real cannons inside the walls.

  Besides the original wooden structures, inside the walls are also motorhomes and a scattering of tents. All in all, it’s a great set-up. I can see why Rosario wanted the compound for her people. With the gardens, grazing land for cattle, and proximity to the sea for fishing, it’s an ideal location.

  “Time to split up. The mile eighty-six marker will be our rendezvous point.” I point back up the road to the small green-and-white road sign sticking out of the dirt. There are a lot of trees and shrubs there for cover. Meet there in two hours.”

  Five heads nod. I gather everyone close for one last group hug. Not even Ben complains about this. I grip his hand hard, hoping to convey all my feelings for him in that single touch.

  Then we break into two pre-designated groups. Ben, Eric, and Ash sweep southeast. Reed and Caleb are with me. We sweep southwest toward the ocean as the sky brightens with the dawn.

  26

  Duct Tape

  JESSICA

  I sit in the pale light of dawn on the floor of the RV. All the curtains are drawn, but the windows are wide open so I can hear if anyone approaches.

  In my lap is the tennis racket from Shaun. On the floor next to my knee is the pile of nails from Alvarez. I slide the nails through the slots in the top of the racket, securing them in place with duct tape.

  I imagine Shaun’s expression if he knew what I was up to. He’d love to see me making use of his duct tape, most especially because I’m making a weapon. Among other things, Shaun had been known to fix ballet slippers, a loose exhaust pipe, and a broken suitcase handle with duct tape.

  When I finish, I hold up the racket and admire it. The dozen fat, rusty nails fan around the curve of the tennis racket like a mohawk. Looking at the weapon makes my blood sing. I am going to kill people today.

  I slide the racket between the bed and the wall, making sure it’s completely concealed.

  There’s nothing to do now but wait.

  27

  Recon

  ERIC

  Ben leads us off the road into the tall meadow grass covering
the land. We run in a crouch, doing our best to stay out of sight. We skim over the ground, passing the official Fort Ross visitor’s center. The entrance to the property is blocked by two cars, both of them with their tires deflated.

  My back aches and my quads burn from the hunched position. The coastal breeze whips across my back, chilling my damp clothes. I grip my rifle with two hands, holding onto it like a lifeline.

  Just past the visitor’s center, Ben leads us into a shallow ditch that runs along the highway. I breathe heavily, gripping my sore thighs as I kneel in the mud. Dampness soaks through my pants. I shift the rifle, positioning it across my back to keep it from getting wet.

  I take in the enormity of Fort Ross. If I ever imagined a fort from a western movie, this would be it. It looks like someone magically transported the massive structure through a time machine. The thick timber walls are topped with spikes. The guard towers have cannon slots.

  A loud creaking sound echoes up to the road. The giant gate swings open. A dozen people, surrounded by well-armed men, are herded out into the dawn. The guards are each armed with a leashed zombie. The monsters are secured around the neck with leashes that are attached to long poles carried by the guards.

  The Fort Ross residents are escorted toward a large enclosure surrounded by a tall deer fence. I adjust the binoculars and pick out tilled earth dotted with green shoots. That must be the community garden.

  Once inside the enclosure, the men and women gather up tools: hoes, shovels, and buckets. Around the perimeter of the garden are large plastic trash cans. Those with buckets dip them into the cans. They come up dripping with water.

  Rain basins, I realize. There are some benefits to living in Northern California. There’s always plenty of rain water to go around.

  “We need to scout the south side of the fort,” Ben whispers. “Follow me. Stay alert.”

  He army crawls through the ditch. Ash follows behind him and I bring up the rear.

  The earth is muddy from yesterday’s rainstorm. My elbows and knees dig into chilly muck. Tom wouldn’t recognize the person crawling through a trench with guns and grenades.

  Ben draws to a halt when we reach the south side of the fort. It looks much the same as the north side; a long wooden wall with zombies chained to it.

  Another group of people exits the fort, this one headed toward the ocean. The Fort Ross people carry fishing poles, nets, buckets, and tackle boxes. Like the first group we saw, the guards have leashed zombies. They laugh as they herd the fisherman toward the path leading down to the water, passing a cigarette amongst themselves.

  “I think it’s safe to say Fort Ross has fallen,” Ben murmurs. “Security is low. They have the zombies, but there are only two guard towers. We have to assume they have watchmen in both of them. As far as I can tell, there are no other watch points around the wall.”

  I peer through the grass, studying the fort. Ben is right. We have the high ground on the fort. I can see enough to know there are no guards stationed on top of any of the motorhomes inside. There is no scaffolding along the interior fence for other watch stations.

  “She’s relying on the zombies,” Ash says.

  “Lazy, but somewhat effective,” Ben replies. “It gives us a loop hole to work with. We’ve seen enough. Let’s get back to the rendezvous.”

  We turn around in the ditch. This time, I lead the way as we army crawl back through the mud. The morning sun above us streaks the sky with pale blue and yellow. I keep my head down as I crawl, not wanting to be spotted by any of the guards in the garden enclosure.

  Then I hear the laughter. It’s a cruel sound that carries across the open grassland.

  Before I can think better of it, I raise my head just enough to peer through the grass.

  Bile rises in my throat at what I see. The guards are using the zombies to taunt the garden workers. They push the monsters close to the people, laughing as people dodge out of the way as they desperately continue to work.

  “Hijos de puta,” Ash growls.

  I can’t peel my eyes from the scene.

  A guard pushes a zombie in the direction of a teenage girl. She leaps out of the way. He laughs, pursuing her with dark glee down a row of tomato bushes. She scrambles backward.

  The guards chortle. The rest of the people look on in horror, all of them too afraid to speak.

  The man with the zombie chases the girl to the far side of the garden—straight into the hands of another guard. He flips her onto the ground, passing his zombie pole off to his friend.

  That’s when the screaming starts. One guard stands over the scene with two zombies, laughing as his friend tears at the girl’s clothing.

  My stomach churns. All the aches and pains and fear I’ve endured over the last two days fall away, seeming insubstantial to what this girl is experiencing.

  You’re such a con, Eric.

  I grit my teeth. Lila was right. I had been a con. I had been content to let the world pass me by without any discernible effort to participate in it.

  Not anymore. That was the old Eric.

  Before I can think better of it, I swing my rifle around. I reposition my body, leaning up against the side of the drainage ditch. I’m the best shot in Creekside. Everyone says so. Time for me to put that skill to use.

  I prop my elbows in the mud and raise the scope to my eye, sighting on the bastard terrorizing the girl.

  Ben pushes aside the muzzle of my gun. “Not now, Eric.”

  “But—!”

  “Don’t be short sighted.” Ben leans forward. “I get it, Eric. I understand where you’re coming from. But trust me when I say that saving that girl right now will cost a lot more lives in the long run. We can’t go off half-cocked. We need to find Kate and come up with a solid plan.”

  A low, long cry ripples through the air. The terror and anguish in that sound is a gut punch.

  Ben rests a hand on my shoulder. When he looks at me, I see something in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

  Compassion. Understanding.

  “We’ll get those fuckers, Eric. I promise.

  My throat tight, I nod. Turning away is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  Ash leads us north, crawling through the ditch in the lead. Ben is right behind her. I follow in the back, the rifle heavy across my shoulders.

  And then I hear it again. That long, low cry.

  Something in me snaps.

  Pivoting on my knees, I bring the rifle around.

  28

  Red Flower

  ERIC

  I narrow my focus, throwing everything through the AR-15 and down the scope. I line up the crosshairs on the man who stands with the two pet zombies, bent double with laughter as his friend continues to tear at the girl’s clothing. She puts up a ferocious fight, but the man is bigger and stronger

  The crashing of the ocean fades to nothingness. All physical sensation disappears, sucked away as I hone in on the asshole with the zombie pets.

  You’ve got this, Eric. Lila’s voice rings through my mind, so clear and vehement that my skin shivers.

  I exhale and pull the trigger.

  The rifle cracks, kicking hard against my shoulder.

  The first guard falls. The rapist leaps to his feet, dick hanging out of his pants.

  The AR-15 automatically kicks another round into the chamber.

  Exhale. Fire.

  Another kick from the rifle. Another asshole drops. A thrill shoots through my bloodstream.

  “Eric!” Ben hisses. “What the fuck? You’re going to bring holy hell down on our heads!”

  I ignore him.

  The teenage girl turns, scrambling away from the fallen guards.

  She isn’t fast enough.

  One of the pet zombies, no longer restrained, pounces on her. Her screams tear into me as the zombie tears into her.

  No.

  No-no-no-no.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to save that girl.

  Her s
creams rake at me as a zombie sinks its teeth into her abdomen. An echo of a scream from the past blasts through me: Lila.

  Instinct takes over. I raise the rifle and sight down it. This is what I should have done for Lila.

  Sight. Exhale. Fire.

  The girl falls. Her face turns into a red flower.

  I drop the rifle, hands shaking. The trembling spreads up my arms like a wildfire.

  Chaos envelopes the garden. The workers turn upon their captives. It’s mayhem. Shots are fired. More screams erupt. I can’t see anything beyond the mass of churning bodies. The shaking in my arms travels up my neck, making my teeth chatter.

  I close my eyes, trying to block it all out. All I see is the girl as my bullet turns her face into a flower of death.

  I killed her.

  No, I amend, thinking of Lila. I released her.

  I should have released Lila. She shouldn’t have had to do it to herself. I did the right thing for that girl.

  “Dammit, kid,” Ben says. “Time to go.” His voice cracks like a whip as he jerks me to my feet.

  Ben breaks into a sprint, tearing out of the ditch and back onto the road. I sling the rifle over my back and sprint after him, grateful to be moving.

  Bloody red flowers bloom all around me. I see Lila and Tom in my periphery, the two of them pumping their arms as they sprint beside me.

  Run, Eric.

  Don’t let up, little brother.

  You did the right thing, Eric.

  Justice was served, little brother.

  I’m fucking losing it. That’s all there is to it. I’m hearing and seeing my brother and my dead girlfriend.

  Hallucinations. Kate told us a horned rabbit visits her on long runs. Her imaginary friend.

  That must be what’s happening to me. I’m hallucinating. I’m a real ultrarunner.

  I’m also a failure. I tried to save that girl and I got her killed. And I’ve given up our location and revealed us to Rosario.