| |
BEN
Granite Avenue is the street that runs along the north side of campus where most of the college dorms are. Creekside is nestled at the very end of Granite Avenue among the towering redwoods of Northern California. To most people, it’s a beautiful, picturesque road.
Ben hates it. It’s the place that holds the culmination of the worst moments of his life. It’s the place where he had been ordered to open fire on kids.
Kids.
Granted, some of them—a lot of them—had been infected. But a full-scale offensive on the college had been nothing more than mass murder.
That wasn’t even the worst part. This had been the place where Ben disobeyed a direct order and went AWOL. He scooped up half a dozen students and hustled them to safety. Away from the gunfire, away from the infected.
Ben had never, ever, disobeyed a direct order from a commanding officer. Sure, there had been moments when he’d had to grit his teeth and mentally cuss someone out for a stupid order, but he always followed through. It’s what a good soldier did. He’d always taken pride in being a good soldier. Of doing the right thing for his country, even when it was hard.
All that was shattered on this godforsaken road.
As he runs down it with Kate and the others on their foolhardy mission, it takes all his focus not to fall back to that night of gunfire and madness.
Usually, he focuses on the swing of Kate’s ponytail. It’s a good anchor. Keeps his brain from spinning out of control.
Now that she’d gone and hacked her hair off—which looks damn good, even though he’d fucked up trying to tell her that—he isn’t sure where to look. The natural thing to focus on is her ass in those skin-tight running pants. He’s grateful she swapped out the tiny running shorts for the mission, though in truth they aren’t much more protection. If any of the little shitheads catch him looking, he’ll never live it down. He settles for watching the sweat spot forming between her shoulder blades.
Granite Avenue, for its part, is indifferent to his PTSD bullshit. The place had been akin to a Sandbox warzone a few months ago. Rotting corpses strewn across every conceivable surface. Feasting carrion birds. Maggots and flies everywhere. The smell of death had been inescapable.
Then Kate got it into her head that she wanted to clean up the neighborhood. She took them all to the campus greenhouse. Goddammit if they hadn’t unearthed five wheelbarrows.
It had taken them weeks to cart away the bodies. Jenna was the one who came up with the idea to cut a hole in the fence separating the college from the freeway—and the twenty-foot drop to the once-busy road. After that, it was only a matter of collecting the bodies and dumping them over the side.
These days, Granite Avenue is stink-free, fly-free, maggot-free, and vulture-free. The same can’t be said for the rest of the campus, but if Kate has anything to say about it, she’ll have the entire campus cleared one day.
He loves that she thinks she can do it. That they can do it. Where everyone else sees death, she sees hope.
Ben keeps his focus on Kate’s shoulder blades. Her sweat spot expands from a few dots to a large, lopsided circle about the size of a fist. He exhales in relief as they hit the main road and turn south. This street is sandwiched between the western perimeter of campus and the drop-off down to the freeway. The memories aren’t so thick here.
They soon reach the vast wrought-iron fence that surrounds the athletic field where they come for target practice. The field most definitely is not fly- or vulture-free.
They leave campus and turn west across the bridge that takes them over the freeway and into downtown Arcata. He watches the others transform, muscles tensing and eyes scanning. They kill their fair share of zombies every time they make a trip into town, but there are always more to deal with.
As they crest the top of the overpass, Ben glances to the freeway below. It’s a mess of cars and zombies, even more so since they started dumping bodies down there. He’d like to dump kerosene over the entire scene and drop a match to it.
“We should run south along the freeway,” Jenna says as they exit the overpass. Her voice low so as not to attract any undead. “It’s a straight shot to Humboldt Bay.”
Kate nods. “Good idea. Everyone, stay alert.”
Ben maintains his position at the back as Kate takes her position at the front. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do a proper job of rear guard.
“Bro.” Ahead of him, Jesus nudges Reed in the arm. “Remember this place?” He points to a small blue house they pass.
Reed smirks. “Totally. That’s where we delivered the E.”
“And scored ourselves an invite to a par-tay.”
“That was some good E.” Reed sighs.
“Those were some horny chicks,” Jesus adds, nostalgic.
“Yeah, that too.”
The conversation makes Ben want to bash their heads together. Everyone is out here putting their lives on the line, and all they can do is reminisce about fucking and doing drugs? Is it any wonder living around these kids makes him insane?
Something crashes with a hollow thud. It sounds like a trashcan just went over.
More than a dozen zombies shamble onto the street in front of them. They’re a mere two blocks away. There are so many they clog the road, creating a solid barrier blocking their way. Soft moans pepper the air.
Not good.
Kate cuts away from the frontage road, turning right at a cross street. It’s residential, lined with colorful bungalows and an auto repair shop. Several blocks ahead of them is a worn-out strip mall
Their fast jog turns into a run. Fluorescent orange running shoes might be the most despised thing he owns, but right now he’s grateful for their quiet rubber soles.
Kate ducks behind the corner of the auto repair shop. They pile after her, all of them breathing hard.
Breathing hard, but not out of breath. There’s a difference. They have Kate to thank for that.
Ben peers around the corner, looking back up the way they came. The first few zombies stagger into view. Hard on their heels are more. And more.
And more.
“Follame,” Jesus mutters, squinting down the road beside Ben. He often defaults to Spanish when he’s stressed.
“How many are there?” Carter whispers.
No one answers him. Ben stares, his eyes resting on the zom that stands in the center. It’s a nondescript man in his forties, clothing torn and gray from long months of exposure. It wears a baseball cap that was once bright red, but is now a dull maroon.
It works its jaw, letting loose a series of keens and clicking noises. The rest of the zombies swirl around it, heads cocked as they listen. They click and keen in response.
A shiver travels down Ben’s spine. He swings around, his eyes meeting Kate’s. “We have to get the fuck out of here. It’s another alpha zom.” The name rolls off his tongue without thought.
Kate’s eyes widen. “Alpha zom?”
“Yeah, like the one we saw on campus the other day. The kind that issues orders to the rest of the zombies. There’s a good two dozen of those fuckers around the alpha.”
“Follame,” Jesus mutters again.
Kate leads them away from the herd, pushing hard through town. They barrel past the strip mall, working their way deeper into the streets and away from the pack.
They pass a few lone zombies, which are dispatched with knives and screwdrivers. Kate sticks to the narrower streets and alleyways. Ben spots a few other large clusters of zombies, but Kate steers wide of them.
Fifteen minutes later, she draws to a halt on the side of a warehouse building. They clump together without speaking, everyone breathing hard.
“Evolution,” Carter breathes. “They’re evolving.”
“Learning to communicate with one another.” Kate bites out the words.
Jenna rubs her arms, looking over her shoulder as if expecting to find the pack there. “Do you think we lost them?”
“I think so.” Jesus runs his thumb over the hilt of his gun. “Unless they can track. Then we’re fucked.”
“We should scrap the rescue mission,” Ben says. “Fall back and regroup.”
Kate shoots him an irritated look. “No such luck, soldier.”
He tamps down the urge to list out all the reasons why this is a bad idea. If it’s one thing he’s learned about Kate, it’s that she’ll lay it all on the line to help people. Up until today, he thought that only applied to the residents of Creekside. Apparently, that extends to complete strangers in Arcata, too.
“Come on,” Kate says. “It’s not far. We should be able to see the bay as soon as we get past this row of warehouses.”
Ben resigns himself to the mission. He might think it’s idiotic, but there’s no way in hell he’ll turn his back on Kate.