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32

Carnival Game

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KATE

Ben is such a skeptic. If he weren’t so capable, I wouldn’t have bothered to ask him along.

Or at least, this is what I tell myself. The truth is that I feel safe when he’s around. Trusting Ben feels like vulnerability. I don’t like it, yet I can’t seem to separate myself from it.

“It will work,” I tell Ben and Eric.

They hit me with cloned expressions of incredulity.

“You want to drop a rope around an alpha’s neck and pull it up from the freeway?” Eric echoes.

At least my plan was clear. “Yes.” I look at Ben. “If you don’t like it, you have between now and the time we arrive at the overpass to come up with something better.”

He scowls at me. I turn away and keep walking, knowing he’ll follow.

We’ve done a good job of clearing the campus. The university isn’t leak proof yet, but I have ideas how to make it a true safe zone. Just as soon as we bag an alpha and start studying it.

Tonight, the sidewalks and roads are quiet, deserted. I walk with Ben and Eric on either side of me down Granite Avenue. Eric pushes a dolly.

This road has changed so much. No longer littered with bodies of murdered students and subsequently cleared of zombies, it almost looks like it did before the apocalypse. If you can ignore the shattered windows, broken doors, abandoned cars, and a complete lack of ambient light.

The milling horde down on the freeway fills the air with a gentle hum. The farther we walk, the louder it becomes.

When we reach the end of Granite Avenue, I pad up to the chain-link fence that lines the twenty-foot drop to the freeway. The beam of my headlamp casts light on the scene. I take in the tight pack of zombies crammed below. There are several hundred, all of them remnants of the monster horde that came here from Eureka.

For the moment, we’re safe from them. The walls of the freeway keep them penned off.

Even so, they aren’t a problem I plan to ignore. I’ve been thinking of ways to get rid of them. The best idea I’ve come up with so far is to dump some gasoline from the overpass and drop a few matches. The problem with that plan is there’s no guarantee the fire will remain contained. The last time I set something on fire, half of the Arcata Plaza was incinerated.

I’ll figure something out. For now, I need to focus on the task at hand: catching an alpha.

“It’s over there?” Eric points to a red pick-up truck beneath the overpass. A tight cluster of zoms swirls around a center point.

“Yeah. The alpha is there.” If it weren’t dark, they’d be able to see the gray-haired woman in the navy blue sweat shirt.

Ten minutes later, we reach the overpass. Ben has a knife in each hand, eyes flicking up and down the road. It’s clear for the moment, but there are zombies not too far away in downtown Arcata.

I drop my pack to the ground and pull out a coil of rope and a Boy Scout handbook.

“Polishing up your knot-tying skills?” Ben frowns at the Boy Scout book.

“Yeah.” I loosen the noose I’ve tied, creating a large loop to drop over the alpha’s neck.

“What if we accidentally pull off its head when we drag it up here?” Eric asks.

I shrug. “Maybe the head will still work.”

Ben and Eric exchange tight looks. In that single exchange, I can see how much the two of them dislike this whole idea. Well, I don’t like it much, either. If my gut didn’t tell me it was the right thing to do, I wouldn’t even be out here trying it.

“Ben, you keep watch on the overpass. Make sure no zombies sneak up on us. Eric, help me with the alpha.”

Ben takes up position in the center of the overpass. Eric watches me as I pick up the rope. I spread my stance and press my hips against the cement barrier for balance, peering into the mass of zombies below.

I shine the light on the alpha. The woman’s gray hair is a dim smudge beneath the starlight, the navy blue sweatshirt invisible in the dark. The alpha is like the dark center of a flower, the rest of the zoms are like swirling petals of gore around it.

I lower the rope over the side. Unfortunately, the alpha is five feet north of the overpass. Dropping it neatly over its head isn’t an option.

As soon as the rope is fifteen feet down, I begin swinging it. Forward and back, forward and back. I gather slack in my other hand.

The rope sails out, gliding right over the alpha. I release the slack.

My timing is off. The rope misses and swings back, thumping against several zombies as it does. They moan and spin in small circles, arms swiping at the open air in search of whatever it was that brushed past them.

I try three more times and miss.

“This feels like a sick carnival game,” I grumble.

“You mean the ones that are rigged so you never have a chance to win?” Eric asks.

“Exactly.”

Behind me, I hear a moan, followed by the now-familiar sound of a skull being crushed.

“Is Ben okay?” I don’t take my eyes from the rope as I swing.

“He’s fine,” Eric replies. “Just took down a straggler. Have you thought about making the noose bigger?”

I decide to try it. Otherwise, we could be out here half the night trying to catch the alpha.

I try four more times with the enlarged noose. On the fifth try, the noose sails neatly over the head of the alpha—and the zombie right next to it.

“Dammit,” I growl. “I was afraid that would happen.” Now I have two zombies.

“Screw it,” Eric says. “Let’s pull them both up.”

I nod in agreement, pulling the noose tight. The alpha and the other zom mash into each other. The alpha immediately starts to hiss and click, sending all nearby zombies into a frenzy. They push and shove in an outward circle, almost as if they’re forming a defensive perimeter around the alpha. Eric and I strain against the rope as our two captives struggle against us.

“Ben,” I call softly. “We need your help.”

He swears when he sees we’ve accidentally lassoed two of the undead. “Fuck me,” he says. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

He and Eric plant themselves on either side of me, both of them grasping the rope.

“On the count of three,” I say. “One, two, three—”

As a unit, we heave. The zombies rise a foot off the ground.

The regular zombie hisses and moans, swiping futilely at the air around it. The alpha lets loose another complicated series of clicks and keens.

The zombies around the alpha double their efforts, pushing outward in a lopsided circle as they attempt to protect their alpha. Several of the cars groan and creak as the zombies slam into them, sliding a few inches across the pavement.

“One, two, three!” I hiss. “One, two, three!”

We throw all we’ve got into pulling the rope upward. The alpha’s commands pick up momentum, its sounds coming faster and more urgently. The monster is halfway up to the overpass, dangling in mid-air above the horde. The zombies below us grow more and more frenzied.

The rope swings chaotically as the two zombies struggle against the bonds. It makes it harder for us to reel in. Sweat beads my temples and drips down my back.

“One, two, three,” I say. “One, two, three—”

Something scrapes against the pavement behind us. I glance over my shoulder and swear.

Three zombies have drifted onto the overpass, no doubt called by the urgency of the alpha.

“You go,” Ben says. “We’ll get the fuckers up here.”

I don’t argue. I break away, leaving them to wrangle the zoms.

I pull out the short metal zom bat from Jesus, holding it in my right hand. In my left hand is a knife.

The zombies lurch across the overpass, drawn to the call of the alpha. Shit, they’re moving fast.

I advance on the closest of them, putting myself between it and my people. I move on tiptoe, striking before it even realizes I’m there. My zom bat caves in its frontal lobe and drops the monster.

In the thirty seconds this takes me, the other two zoms have closed in behind Eric and Ben. They’re no more than five feet away from my two friends.

I spring back in their direction. I bury my knife in the nearest of them. I don’t have time to yank the blade free. I release it and throw myself at the last of them when it’s a mere foot from Eric.

We hit the pavement, me landing on top. The smell of rot and death rush up my nose and down my throat as it hisses at me. I drive the zom bat down. The nose and cheekbones collapse under the force, splattering blood in every direction.

I roll to my feet just as Ben and Eric drag the two struggling zombies onto the overpass. Ben knifes the regular zombie while Eric says, “We’ve got to shut this thing up!”

He’s right. Below, the mass of zombies has started keening. The high-pitched sound crescendos up and down like a knife lacerating the sky. The alpha continues to click and keen.

I grab a handful of rope and shove it into the clacking jaws. A hiss comes out of the thing’s mouth, the teeth bearing down on the rope. I lean with all my weight, forcing the wad of rope all the way to the back of its throat. Ben wraps a length around the face.

“We have more company.” Eric darts toward two more zombies that have reached the overpass.

The alpha writhes and flops like a dying fish. I sit on its torso, attempting to pin it in place while Ben ties off the rope around its head.

The alpha bucks, twisting and struggling to break free. Shit. This is a lot more trouble than the time I captured a few zombies with Carter and Jenna. Those undead hadn’t been smart enough to even know they’d been captured.

I throw all my weight against the alpha, my feet digging into the concrete as I push the writhing form down.

“Done,” Ben says, yanking the knot tight over the face.

“Thank God.” I wipe sweat from my eyes. “I’ll grab the feet. You get the arms.”

As soon as I remove my weight, the alpha bucks and almost manages to trip me. I dance to the side, then lunge for its feet. One tennis shoe clocks me in the stomach. I grunt and secure my grip around both ankles.

Eric has dispatched the two zombies, but more are drifting up from downtown Arcata. Shit.

Ben and I hustle over to the dolly while Eric heads off another zombie that reaches the overpass. At least a dozen more are coming our way. And the zombies down on the freeway sound like they’re ready to riot.

At least we’ve managed to silence the alpha. I can only hope it will be enough to calm the horde.

Ben and I set the alpha on the dolly. It wriggles like a snake, but I once again sit on top of it while Ben straps it in place. It’s secured in under two minutes.

“Eric,” I whisper-shout.

He’s poised on the far side of the overpass, waiting as another three zombies approach. I gesture to him with both hands. He backs warily away from the zombies before running toward us.

The keening has begun to fade. Without the alpha to stir them up, the zombies are already forgetting what it is they were supposed to be doing.

Good. With any luck, the dozen making their way toward the overpass will also get distracted and wander off.

We jog away, pushing the dolly before us with our prize.