| |
KATE
I fumble the Ziploc with cold fingers, sliding the tape recorder back inside. What I wouldn’t give for a dry bag and a towel. The black shiny plastic is damp, and I have no way to dry it. I can only hope the little droplets won’t damage it.
A look over my shoulder shows the alpha zom closing in on the zombies we killed near the bridge.
“We have to move.”
No one argues, though I know they’re all feeling the pain of having run over thirty miles in such a short time frame. We’re exhausted and aching.
We run anyway.
I lead them through the storm, putting distance between us and the horde. We run through the blond coastal grasses that bow under the force of the wind. To our right is the Pacific Ocean. To our left, past the open grass and the line of gnarled cypress trees, is a row of homes lining the frontage road. Zombies wander the open area between the two. We give them a wide berth.
A half mile ahead of us looms a parking lot. A banner hangs limp in the rain, one side having been ripped from the pole that held it up. It ripples in the storm, sporting the image of a whale printed in black ink.
I’d forgotten about the whale festival. I slow, scanning the parking lot through the gray mist. The others cluster around me, studying the obstacle course in front of us.
“Of course, there are zombies,” Ash mutters. “We can’t catch a break.”
Yep. Throughout the hard-packed dirt parking lot are zombies. Lots of them. They wander aimlessly in the rain. If the lot had been any closer to Pudding Creek, no doubt they would have been drawn there by the frenzy.
I see what I suspect is an alpha. A tall zombie woman stands off to one side. It makes no sound, but at least a dozen other zoms make small circles around her.
I make a decision. We’re too tired to fight and too tired to manage a prolonged sprint. And my alpha recording will just attract the attention of the alpha.
“We’re going around.”
Ash lets her shoulders sag, some of the tension and worry sliding away. “Thank God. I wasn’t up for another fight.” Everyone else exhales in relief.
Except for Ben. He is the only one who doesn’t one hundred percent approve of my plan. I can tell by the wrinkle on his brow as he takes in the scene.
“Going around will put us closer to those houses.” He jerks a thumb at the row of little cottages that dot the east side of the frontage road. “I’m not sure that’s a better option. Lots of zoms wandering around.”
“We’re not going around on the east side. We’re going down there.” I point out toward the ocean.
Soft moans pepper the air, and they’re not from zombies. I ignore them. There are no good choices in front of us. All I can do is pick the least dangerous of them.
If possible, my people look even more defeated. It’s possible none of them will ever think of the beach in a positive light ever again.
“I don’t suppose you’d agree to trying our luck in one of those pretty houses?” Ash asks.
I shake my head. “That alpha and the pack from the river are too close. I don’t want to get boxed between them and those zoms ahead in the parking lot. I promise we’ll stop for food and clothing before we leave Braggs, just as soon as we get past these hordes.”
I turn, heading toward the tall cliff that overlooks the ocean. Reaching the edge, I pause to look down.
There is no official trail leading down to the water, but the locals have carved their own path. My eyes pick out a haphazard trail in the side of the cliff. It’s partially overgrown with coastal succulents. Other parts are covered with slides of earth from heavy rains. Despite that, it’s still discernible.
“You want us to go down that?” Eric stares at me. “There’s no trail.”
“There’s a trail,” I assure him. “We’re going to follow the coastline and bypass the town and the festival. Come on.”
At that exact moment, the rain decides to double its efforts. Gritting my teeth, I step onto the trail.
I lead them through the slippery ice plant, a succulent that grows all over the Californian coastline. In the summer, large pink and yellow blooms adorn the plants. Today, the rain makes their rubbery leaves slippery.
The ground is saturated. Water pools on the flatter areas of the man-made trail. I don’t even try to circumvent them; what would be the point, when my feet are already soaked? I step right through them, pushing ever closer to the beach below.
The wind whips across our bodies, carrying the rain with it. The ocean drums against the shore, an incessant pounding.
I slip on the ice plant, landing hard on my hip. Caleb grabs my elbow and helps me up. His face is set into a determined mask. I give him a nod of thanks before pushing onward.
As we near the bottom of the cliff, the trail disappears into a tangle of boulders heaped along the shoreline. We’re forced to scramble over them. Eric slips and skins his knee, but never complains.
At last, finally, we reach the beach. The sand is a mottled blend of light brown and tawny grains interspersed with dark boulders.
Ahead, through the shifting mist are wandering zombies. I can’t get a count at this distance, but there can’t be more than a dozen. And they’re spread out. As long as we stay quiet, we can pick them off.
I draw my knife and club. “Weapons out. Teams of two.”
Caleb and Ash fall in together, as do Reed and Eric. Ben joins me at the front of the line. We snake forward with our weapons ready.
Even before the apocalypse, I never liked running in sand. We’ve had our fair share of it on this trip. Hell, I still have sand in my shoes and clothes from the Lost Coast.
I move at a hard walk, not wanting to burn through precious energy trying to run on a surface that isn’t conducive to running. The first zombie comes into view. It’s a lone man in a faded T-shirt with Teva sandals. I signal to Ash and Caleb. They peel away to dispatch it.
Another fifty yards in front of us is a cluster of three zoms and a decomposing body. They look like they’d been in the middle of a picnic when all hell broke loose. Their blanket is nothing more than a dirty mound on the ground. The picnic basket is on its side, contents strewn across the beach. It’s only because they’re close to the cliff face that the ocean hasn’t managed to pull all the contents out to sea.
I gesture to Ben. This group is ours.
As we approach, we find the remains of two couples. The women had once been nicely outfitted in cute maxi dresses. They’re now ripped and stained with blood. Near the picnic basket is a decomposing body of a man in khaki shorts. His head and torso are gone, only his legs remaining. The final man, this one undead, wears loafers and his own pair of khaki shorts. He wanders in small circles with the two women. They stay near the half-eaten body of the person who had once been their friend.
Between the pounding of the rain and the constant hum of the surf, the three never hear us coming. I take out the first of the women with a kill strike to the temple. Ben takes down the second woman before pivoting to kill the man.
We continue this way down the long stretch of coast, breaking apart and killing the zombies we come across. It feels like we hike for hours through the rain and sand. In truth, my watch shows no more than an hour has passed.
A chill wracks my body. I realize how cold I am. My hands, feet, lips, and nose are frozen. Hypothermia. We’re all at risk. Again. Ash almost died from it yesterday. The rain shows no sign of letting up. I need to get everyone into a shelter.
We near a curve in the coastline that juts out to sea. I study the line of water, noting the beach ends in less than a quarter mile.
“We’ve traveled as far as we can,” I call. “It’s time to climb back up.” I can only hope we’ve covered enough ground to have bypassed the zombie whale watchers.
Dull, tired eyes look at me. My heart squeezes. I have to get them out of the rain. Soon.
I study the cliff, looking for a way out. Through the mist and rain, a set of wooden stairs materializes. I blink and wipe water out of my eyes, wondering if I’m hallucinating. But no, the set of stairs remains.
I hesitate, fear of what might lie at the top of the stairs making me search for another way up. Then I take in the shivering forms of my people. Everyone, including myself, is cold to the bone. We need the fastest way out of here.
“Stay alert,” I tell them. “Keep your weapons out. We’re taking the stairs.”
With any luck, we won’t find a seething mass of zombies at the top.