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KATE
The van tears past the Depot, the only place on campus that sold beer before the apocalypse. Steely determination sweeps through me. I take a good look at my apocalypse family, giving myself ten seconds to focus on how much I care about each and every one of them.
Carter. Jenna. Reed. Eric. Johnny. Jesus. Ash. Caleb. Ben. And Lila. These ten people are my reason for living.
“Listen up.” I pitch my voice loud enough to fill the cramped interior. “We can do this. This isn’t the hardest or the scariest thing we’ve come up against. It’s just another obstacle to get past. When you see the swarm, just give them a big fuck you and blast them to hell. You got it?”
“Fuck you, zombies!” Reed shouts.
“Fuck the undead, Mamita!” Jesus adds.
Within seconds, everyone is yelling and fist pounding the air. Jenna turns back and gives me a wild-eyed grin before adding her scream to the mix. Carter beats his fist on the steering wheel even as he swerves around several undead that lumber toward the car. Ben wears a wild grimace as he bellows fuck you at the top of his lungs.
Carter whips the van around an abandoned car and skids to a halt outside College Creek.
My chest seizes.
We’re too late.
The thought pings around my head as I gape out the window.
Dozens of undead spill forth around the dorms, hands outstretched as they beeline for the humming engine of the minivan. It’s a beacon in their blindness.
And they just keep coming. Leading them is one of the alphas, a teenage girl with dark hair and a Victoria’s Secret sweatshirt. Tight clumps of zombies cluster at the heels of the alpha.
“Everyone out!” Carter cries. “I’ll lead them away.”
There’s no time to argue. No time to debate. There is only time for action.
In under sixty seconds, we’ve emptied out of the van. I fall into step beside Ben and Reed. Ben leads the way, charging toward the dorm buildings on the western-most side.
He hugs a box of C-4 to his chest. The giant rocket launcher—which I’ve never fired—bounces against my back. It feels strange to have a knife and a screwdriver in either hand with an enormous gun on my back.
Music blares, stinging my ears with its intensity. Carter blasts a loud rap song. Keens pepper the air. Every zombie stumbles toward him, white eyes reflecting the morning sun. I spot the teenage alpha with zombies frothing around her as she leads them toward Carter.
Everything inside me screams to go back to Carter, to protect him. This basic motherly instinct beats at me. I ignore it, knowing the best way to protect Carter is to stick with the plan. Reed and I have to cover Ben and take out the western-most building.
With one last look back in my son’s direction, I turn to my task.
I run in a tight cluster with Ben and Reed. We dodge around a pack of zombies, bee-lining to our assigned building. With the music blaring from Skip, the zoms stumble past us without turning in our direction.
Ben crouches in the lee of an abandoned dorm with a piece of C-4 in hand. He smacks it in place and races to the next section of wall.
“Don’t you need wires or a detonator?” I leap forward to block two zombies that stray in his direction. My screwdriver takes one through the ear. Reed slams his knife in the skull of the second.
“This shit will blow to high heaven when we shoot off the rocket launchers,” Ben replies. “We just need to plant it.”
More and more zombies pour around the sides of the building. I can’t see Carter anymore, but music continues to pelt the air.
“Mama,” Reed yells.
I spin around as three zombies reach us. One reaches for Ben, jagged fingernails pricking his scalp.
I tackle the thing to the ground. My screwdriver punches through his skull. I roll sideways as a second zombie swipes at me. It trips on the dead one and tumbles forward.
Reed is there. He stabs the creature and shoves it aside. I spring to my feet, wiping blood from my face with the back of my hand.
I freeze as a pack of five lumber by, following the sound of the rap music from Carter. I swallow my breath, struggling not to rasp. The zombies moan and growl, but continue past us without ever turning in our direction.
Stealth, I realize. That’s our biggest asset. Our only asset. We have to move quietly enough to avoid their attention and let Carter’s distraction do the rest.
In theory, this is a great idea. In practice, it’s difficult when there are so many zombies. More and more of them stagger into sight with each passing second.
Reed and I dodge through the melee with one another, sticking close to Ben as he slaps another stick of explosive to the wall. Half a dozen zombies are dangerously close to us. I have to draw them away from Ben and give him more time.
I scoop up a rock and hurl it as hard as I can at a first-floor dorm window. It cracks the glass, but doesn’t shatter it.
Reed gives me a look of profound sympathy before hefting his own rock. His pitch shatters the glass.
The cluster of zombies veers away from us, heading for the broken window. Reed and I attack them from behind, dropping them with our knives, zom bats, and screwdrivers.
We rush back to Ben, putting our backs to him with our weapons raised as he works. Once finished with this area, we scurry across a breezeway to another part of the building. The crack of Eric’s rifle fills the air. I can only hope he’s successfully taking out the alphas.
As we pass the breezeway, I hear the rattle of iron. I glance at the tall wrought iron gate that separates College Creek from the large athletic field on the other side. Though many zombies have fallen during our target practice sessions, there are still a lot out there.
The rattle of the field gate draws the attention of another cluster of undead that fumble their way down the breezeway. They veer in the direction of the gate, moaning in response to the noise of their brethren on the other side. They reach the gate, latching onto the bars and rattling them. The wrought-iron fence begins to rock in its cement foundation.
As much as the scene worries me, at the moment it’s not a threat. What is an immediate concern is a zombie woman with two broken legs who claws her way in our direction. Reed dispatches her with a blow to the head.
“Done,” Ben says, dropping his empty box of explosives and turning to us. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I couldn’t agree more.
We turn, the three of us shoulder-to-shoulder—only to stop dead in our tracks. Between us and the way out is a massive wall of undead. At their forefront, leading the pack straight toward us, is the teenage alpha zombie in the Victoria’s Secret sweatshirt.