Fort Dead Read online

  I had everything I wanted. Two beautiful girls to raise. A husband to love. A happy, bustling household. We’d been talking about having a third child.

  Then Richard came along and stole everything.

  Even worse, Richard had gotten himself killed trying to defend Claire and May. I hate him and love him for his selflessness. I hate him and love him for making Shaun complete.

  Shaun’s muscles bunch beneath his shirt as he pushes open the gates to Fort Ross. The morning sun hits him, illuminating his perfect chiseled cheekbones and sharp blue eyes.

  My mouth goes dry. No.

  The gates to Fort Ross are massive twelve-foot structures, each post made of solid redwood back from a time when redwood trees were harvested with abandon. Each post is solid wood, not the cheap pressed wood sold in hardware stores before the world ended. The gates to the fort are double swinging doors, each one weighing several hundred pounds.

  Shaun strains against the heavy wood, singlehandedly throwing it open to the enemy.

  His feet flex as he pushes against the earth, pressing all his weight against the thick redwood enclosure. His biceps and forearms bunch under the strain. In plain jeans and a T-shirt, he looks as perfect as he did the day I met him at a college frat party.

  Close the gate, you stupid idiot! Close the gate!

  But Shaun doesn’t close the gate. Just like he hadn’t closed down his attraction to Richard. He pushes open the gates, forever altering my fate.

  “Let them go.” His voice, a rich, strong baritone, rings across the distance. “We surrender, Rosario. Let them go.”

  The power of Shaun’s voice booms through the silence. It fills every crevice, extending out to Rosario and her fucking bastards.

  “Let them all go,” Shaun says. “We surrender.” For a brief second, his eyes meet mine.

  And in that moment, I know he did this for me.

  The only reason those fucking gates are standing open is because he wanted to save me.

  Fucking bastard.

  I don’t know what he said to Alvarez, but I have no doubt he employed his old-world skills to the situation. Shaun is a salesman down to his toenails.

  You bastard. I mouth the words. Shut the fucking gates.

  It’s too late.

  The gates are open. The residents of Fort Ross are disarmed. Rosario, her goons, and their firepower have been granted access.

  It’s too late.

  Rosario lumbers forward, her gait slow and rolling. The fat woman wears a crinkled cotton tie-dyed dress that’s frayed and stained. She has at least three chins—sometimes four, depending on the angle. How this woman manages to embody terror in every sense of the word baffles me, but somehow she does it.

  Shaun stands proud and strong in front of the gates. It would be easy to mistake him for the leader of the fort. His stance is fearless and bold. He looks like he’s in charge. Hell, with his natural charisma, he probably could have taken over leadership of the fort if he hadn’t been solidly behind Alvarez.

  Rosario stops in front of Shaun. The fat woman looks him up and down.

  “And you the one in charge?” she asks.

  “Let my people go. We surrender.” His head turns ever so slightly, looking at me. I know he’s trying to convey a message with his eyes.

  Fuck if I know what it is. What could he possibly say to me to justify the sacrifice of forty-eight people? The tears that leak out of my eyes make me want to claw off my own face.

  “Are you the one in charge?” Rosario asks the question a second time.

  “I’m in charge,” Shaun says. “Fort Ross is mine. These people are mine.”

  “Aren’t you a pretty one. Too bad.” Rosario raises a fat wrist, gesturing to one of her minions. “Jeanie. Come here, please.”

  A sneering woman steps forward. Her T-shirt reads, If fat is flavor I’m fucking fantastic.

  In her hands is a long pole with wire on one end. The wire encircles the neck on a zombie. Jeanie guides the thing along like it’s a pet dog.

  Rosario sweeps her gaze up and down Shaun. “What’s your name?”

  “Shaun.”

  “Shaun. That’s a nice name. Well, Shaun, this all could have been a lot easier if you’d just opened your gates twenty-four hours ago. Instead you made me wait. In the rain.”

  Viciousness oozes out of the terrible woman as she looks at Shaun.

  Jeanie stops beside her with the leashed zombie. The creature moans, hands scratching at the empty air in front of it.

  Shaun stands tall and proud, stoic in the face of the threat.

  “Tell me, Shaun.” Rosario’s voice ripples out from her fat form. “Why the delay? You could have opened the gates hours ago.”

  “We were hoping you’d change your mind and go back to where you came from.” Shaun’s voice is unconcerned and mocking. He cocks his head at Rosario, staring her down. “Guess that didn’t work out.”

  “Guess not.” Rosario’s voice drips with venom. “I would have preferred to sit out the storm inside my fort.” She flicks her fingers at Jeanie.

  The younger woman steps forward, the sneer deepening on her face. Her expression borders on glee.

  Two of Rosario’s goons descend on Shaun. When they grab his arms and hold him in place, he doesn’t fight.

  Jeanie advances on him with the leashed zombie.

  “Let this be a lesson to you all,” Rosario shrills. “Your life can be easy, or it can be hard. The choice is up to you.”

  The zombie lunges forward. Jeanie leans with the monster, extending its reach.

  The creature swipes. Dirty fingers latch onto the front of Shaun’s shirt.

  Up until this moment, Shaun has been stoic. As the zombie claws at his chest, pulling itself closer, he breaks. He lets up a shout, twisting in an effort to get free. Rosario’s minions laugh and hold him in place.

  I can only see the profile of the two men restraining Shaun. Gleeful grins split the side of each face like broken half moons.

  Shaun groans as the creature sinks its teeth into his clavicle. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t try to get away. He remains upright, his captors anchoring him on either side as the zombie tears a bloody chunk of flesh from his shoulder.

  Something happens inside me.

  I shriek. My cry slices across the horrified silence like a scythe.

  It’s not the sound of grief or despair or fear. It’s the sound of fury.

  “You asshole!” I tear free of my captor.

  The man, whose attention had been on Shaun and the zombie, stumbles as I rip free. His gun fires behind me as I tear across the open space.

  “How could you?” I scream at Shaun. “How could you, you selfish asshole?”

  Most of the onlookers likely think I’m screaming at Rosario. But Shaun knows the truth. I see my words hit him like a slap across the face.

  I’ve nearly reached Rosario, a plan to scratch out her eyeballs with my fingernails half formed in my mind. Jeanie steps forward, her pet zombie in hand. Her foot lashes out, delivering a kick to my gut.

  I sprawl across the ground, cheek skidding in the dirt.

  Jeanie swings the zombie around, holding it over me. “Say the word, boss,” she drawls.

  I flip over, glaring up at Jeanie and Rosario. Daring them.

  Rosario chuckles. “We’ve got a fighter. I like her, Jeanie.”

  I turn my glare on Shaun. In less than a second, all the years pass between us—the love, the loss, and everything in between.

  Shaun grasps his bleeding shoulder as blood pours down his chest. “I’m sorry, Jessie.” He sways. His captives are the only things keeping him upright.

  “You’re not supposed to be the one who gets to die,” I grit. “It was supposed to be me.”

  “Life’s not fair, honey,” Rosario says. “Rufus, Scooby, string him up. Everyone else, let’s go.”

  My captor catches up to me. I don’t resist as he twists my arms behind my back.

  Shaun is half dragg
ed, half carried into the fort. Rosario follows in her fat, wallowing gait. Her people fan out behind her, their automatic rifles trained on the crowd.

  I spot Alvarez near the front of our people. He flicks his hands. His people take their cue, all of them falling back. They cluster in a tight circle, crowding up against the redwood fence that has, until this moment, kept them safe.

  Inside the fort are three large buildings that housed the original Russian residents, along with a tiny wooden chapel. In the center of the fort is a large open area of hard-packed dirt and an old well. Surrounding the well are tents and RVs, all homes to various residents of Fort Ross.

  Around the well is a scattering of fire pits and laundry lines. The area has become a default gathering center for Fort Ross residents.

  Rosario’s people tear off the laundry. Clean clothing is ground into the dirt.

  The pet zombies are frenzied. They let up long, ululating keens.

  Shaun is dragged through the dirt and tied to one of the laundry poles. I have a sick fear that he’s going to be burned alive like a Salem would-be witch.

  His beautiful face and pale blond hair are stained bright red in places. Blood gushes from the gaping wound on his clavicle. Rosario’s people are ruthless as they lash his body in place.

  Rosario’s rumpled dress drags in the dirt as she crosses the compound and comes to stand before Shaun. She looks him up and down before turning to address the crowd.

  “This asshole made me wait outside my home for twenty-four fucking hours,” she says. “Twenty-four hours and thirteen seconds, to be exact. And for what? Just to be ornery. Just because he could.” She delivers a stinging slap to Shaun’s face. He grunts, chin rolling against his chest. “Your pathetic resistance was for nothing.”

  As soon as she finishes speaking, a series of thuds ring across the compound. Half a dozen grappling hooks bite into the southern fence of the fort. Seconds later, men and women swarm over the top. They drop another set of rope ladders down the interior side of the wooden wall and descend into the fort. In less than two minutes, another fifteen of Rosario’s minions are within our home.

  Fifteen assholes we never saw coming.

  Rosario had the means and the manpower to take Fort Ross anytime. She only let us think we had a choice. This realization takes the breath out of me.

  This was all a game. A show of power to put us in our place.

  “You see,” Rosario drawls, “Fort Ross was pre-ordained to be mine. I let you enjoy the illusion that you could think or fight your way out of your fate. I hope now you see how pointless that would have been. This will be your first and only warning. As for this asshole.” Her attention rivets back onto Shaun. “Let him be an example to all of you. Follow orders and you will be kept alive. Cause trouble and I won’t hesitate to string you up beside your leader.”

  Something happens when I take in Shaun’s bleeding body tied to the laundry pole. I don’t feel grief. I don’t feel crippling sadness. These things can’t touch me through the ice that has grown around me.

  What I feel is a doubling of my outrage. Rage that this man who served my heart up on a platter doesn’t have the decency to let me die first.

  He’s leaving me. Again.

  Asshole.

  I don’t want to rail against the monsters who did this to him. All I want is to pound on the chest of my ex-husband as his life drips out of his body.

  A hand comes down on my shoulder. I hadn’t even realized I was on my knees in the dirt. I pry my eyes away from Shaun, expecting to find one of the pricks responsible for his death.

  The dark eyes of Jorge Alvarez find mine. Shaun, the selfish bastard, had to know what this would cost him. The pain it would cause him. Shaun is one of Alvarez’s few confidants and close friends. On top of that, Alvarez carries the life of every person in Fort Ross on his shoulders. He takes every death personally, even when it’s not his fault.

  I should share Alvarez’s grief. I’m too broken and fucked up inside to feel sadness. Every drop of sadness held in my soul drained out of me when the girls died. I don’t think I have the capacity to feel sorrow anymore.

  “I’m sorry.” The word falls from Alvarez in a broken whisper.

  I have no words for this man with a heart of gold. This man who gives all of himself to the caretaking of others. He doesn’t want to hear my thoughts. He’s too good for them. I can barely stand them.

  The new monarch always cleans house.

  This was something Shaun used to say. In his corporate world of wine sales, there was an ever-revolving door of upper management. Every time a new executive swept in, Shaun would say, The new monarch is going to clean house.

  “He knew.” My words come out low and guttural, like an animal.

  The bastard knew. He knew what would happen when he threw open the gates.

  Somehow, he’d convinced Alvarez to trade places with him.

  I can’t imagine what he said to convince Alvarez to let him be the one to do it, but somehow, he’d done it. There was a reason he’d been number one in sales for his wine company four years in a row.

  There’s a reason he’d buried his sexuality. The man could sell anything. Even a lie to himself.

  This thought brings another burst of anger bubbling forth. Part of me wants to claw out Shaun’s eyes. Or maybe turn a zombie loose on him and let it finish the job.

  My gaze shifts to Alvarez, who is once again staring at Shaun with open grief. The man is a bottomless pit of love. I’ve never met anyone like him. Sometimes I think that if I could bottle up even an ounce of his good will and optimism, I’d be a new person. A whole person, instead of the broken mess I am now.

  Anger rolls through me in a hot wave—anger that Rosario has hurt Alvarez by killing Shaun.

  Somehow, someway, I’m going to make every one of these fucking bastards pay for hurting him.

  For hurting both of them.

  Somehow.

  2

  New Currency

  KATE

  “I only have two things to say.”

  Eric greets me and Ben as we jog down the Lost Coast trail. I read tension in his pursed lips and hunched shoulders.

  “What is it?” With Ben at my side, I join Eric and the rest of our companions, Caleb, Ash, Reed, and Susan.

  “First of all, I just finished my first ultramarathon. That means I’m officially no longer a fat bastard.” The grin on Eric’s face is huge. You wouldn’t know he’d spent the last several hours slogging through the dark on a cold, muddy trail.

  “Second of all, there are people up ahead” Eric jerks a thumb to the south, in the direction of Usal Campground. “Live ones. They haven’t seen us yet.”

  The seven of us cluster behind the low-hanging branches of a large cypress tree. I peer down the trail, searching for a campground I’ve only seen on a map.

  Five hundred yards away, I spot the people. There are several vehicles and perhaps a dozen or so people. It’s a mix of adult men and women, no children among them.

  “Are they wearing wet suits?” I ask, relying on the sharp vision of my younger companions.

  “Some of them,” Reed confirms. “The rest are in hunting gear. I see rifles and fishing poles.”

  “Who would want to swim out there?” Ash shivers, casting a look of loathing at the ocean.

  “Maybe they’re spearfishing?” Caleb suggests.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I bet they’re diving for abalone.” That was a popular sport in Northern California before the apocalypse.

  “Hunting, fishing, and abalone.” Ben nods in approval. “That’s a good way to live.”

  Eric attempts to clean the mud from his glasses on the sleeve of his shirt. “What should we do? Wait here until they pack up and leave? Try to go around them?”

  Ben snorts. “Ever try to sneak around men with hunting rifles? That’s a good way to get mistaken for a deer and get your head blown off.”

  “We’re not sneaking around.”

/>   I weigh our options. We could wait them out, find a place to rest until they pack up and leave. The problem with that plan is I have no idea how long they plan to be out here. It could be hours.

  Alvarez and Fort Ross don’t have hours.

  On top of that, these people have vehicles. I don’t know exactly how far away Fort Ross is, but I do know the Lost Coast has thoroughly kicked all of our asses. If there’s any chance of getting a ride in one of those vehicles, even for a short distance, it’s worth a shot.

  I swallow, making up my mind. “We introduce ourselves. See if we can get a ride south with them.”

  Six pairs of eyes turn to me in astonishment.

  “Did you just say you want to ride in a car?” Reed demands.

  “I think I must have a rock lodged in my ear.” Eric makes a show of cleaning out his ears. “The words coming out of our mom’s mouth aren’t making sense.”

  I huff in exasperation. “You all know how I feel about vehicles. In general, they aren’t safe. But it’s deserted out here. We haven’t seen a single zombie since we crashed on the Lost Coast.”

  “If it wasn’t safe to drive, those guys would already be dead.” Ben gives me a curt nod of agreement. “It’s a good plan. I don’t know about all you assholes, but my feet are killing me.”

  “I have blisters under eight toenails,” Caleb says.

  “The lady with the fucked-up ankle votes for Kate’s plan.” Susan raises her hand into the air.

  I lead the way, moving at a brisk walk down the trail. As we near the campground, I wave my arms to get the attention of the people, hoping to convey friendliness.

  There’s a flurry of activity as they notice us. They fall into a tight group, several of them raising the rifles in our direction.

  My stomach flips.

  You’d think seeing other humans would be a cause for celebration. After all, this world is sorely short on humanity right now. But nope, these people go straight to suspicious.

  I was guilty of the same thing when Leo and his people arrived at Creekside. It’s the new norm.

  “Don’t.” I reach out a hand, resting it on Ben’s wrist.

  He scowls in response, but releases the hold on his Sig.