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KATE
Ben and Caleb are halfway back to the Fairhaven, rowing a paddleboard across the water. The rest of us stand alert, rifles raised and pointed toward the shoreline. Just because I’ve never fired one doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate. Whoever set that flare gun trap obviously wants to know if someone trespasses on their space. I don’t intend to let anyone hurt Ben or Caleb.
“Do you hear that?” Reed tilts his head to one side, frowning. “It’s a buzzing sound.”
Shit. Worry spiders over my skin. The last time we heard a distant buzzing sound, it was an alpha army on the march.
“Which direction?” I ask.
“South, toward Eureka,” Reed says.
I grab the binoculars and scan the horizon. Two dots bob on the water, getting larger with each passing second. I hear the distinct rumble of engines.
“Fuck.” I push the binos at Reed. “Do you see what I see?”
Reed grabs the binoculars from me. “Boats,” he says grimly. “Two of them. They’re coming right for us.”
“Dammit.” Fear pounds through me. I have no doubt these are the people who set up the flare gun. I don’t know what’s in Manila, but it’s obvious they want to protect it.
“Ben! Caleb!” I wave my arms to get their attention, not bothering to lower my voice. “We have company!” I point in the direction of the oncoming boats.
A flurry of curses carries across the water. The two men haul ass back toward the Fairhaven on their paddleboard, arguing the whole way.
“I told you the owners were coming back,” Ben says.
“How was I supposed to know they’d come by water?” Caleb snaps.
“Shut up and paddle!”
Fear and irritation pound in my temples. I can’t listen to them anymore.
“How long before those boats reach us?” I ask Susan.
Her lips press into a thin line. “Three minutes, tops. Leo, I need your help.” Susan passes him a funnel. “I need you to start pouring the gas in as soon as Caleb and Ben get here. I’m going to fire up the Fairhaven.”
Leo positions the funnel in the gas opening just as the paddleboard bumps up against the side of the boat. Caleb lobs the first gas canister over the side. Reed passes it to Leo, who immediately begins pouring it into the funnel.
“There’s a bunker on shore,” Caleb says in a rush as he clambers on board. “Enough stuff to stock Creekside for a month. We think those guys are the owners.” He jerks a thumb at the oncoming boats.
“And dipshit here set off their tripwire.” Ben jumps onto the deck, face flushed with fury. He marches over to the weapons pack, pulling out ammo clips and his rifle. It’s a really bad time to notice how good he looks mostly naked, or that fact that he found a new pair of underwear.
“Hope you’re ready to shoot that thing.” Ben hands me an extra clip of ammo. His face is set, eyes focused. “Get ready to defend the Fairhaven.”
The boats are no longer dots on the horizon. They’re close enough for me to see that they’re two speedboats. A look through the binoculars shows me three men on each boat, all of them armed. They’re closing in on us.
“We have to go,” I shout. “Leo, close the fuel tank. Susan, fire up the Fairhaven. We’re out of time.”
The Fairhaven sputters to life, the charter boat coughing as fuel races back through its engine. Susan leans into the accelerator.
“Come on, girl,” she murmurs. “Get us the hell out of here.”
“We can’t outrun those boats.” Ben raises his rifle, sighting down the scope. His lean muscles are taut, the tattoos tense along both arms as he takes aim.
Before he can fire, gunshots crack from our pursuers. Bullets pierce the water on either side of us. One bullet hits the back of the Fairhaven.
“Motherfuckers,” Susan screams.
Ben fires. A spray of glass goes up from the closest of the speedboats.
Almost as soon as Ben starts shooting, the speedboats fall back. They slow enough to stay out of range, but close enough to tail us.
“Fuckers,” Ben growls, lowering his gun.
The Fairhaven gains speed as Susan aims the boat in a southward direction. Directly in front of us looms Indian Island, a small chunk of land that sits in the middle of Humboldt Bay. Susan aims her boat toward a narrow channel on the east side of the island. The speedboats continue to follow us.
“What do you think they want?” I ask.
“That bunker is where they store their supplies,” Ben says. “Most likely they want to protect it.”
“But we’ve left. We didn’t steal anything besides gas from sunk boats.”
“They don’t know that.”
“You think they want to risk a shootout over some stuff even after we’ve left?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know what they want. But they’re following us, which isn’t a good sign.” He stalks away and grabs his fatigues, climbing back into them.
“Leo,” I say, “any idea who these guys are? Did you have any run-ins with them when you lived in Eureka?”
“No,” Leo replies. “We occasionally spotted other groups when we were out scavenging, but mostly we avoided one another.”
The speedboats maintain a safe distance behind us, but always stay within eyesight. I edge over to Ben, who is once again fully clothed.
“Do you think they’re herding us into an ambush?”
“The thought did cross my mind.” His gaze flicks to the speedboats and back to me. “We need people on the bow and stern.”
I nod. “Eric, Caleb, Reed, come with me,” I call. “We’re keeping watch on the bow. Ben, Ash, and Leo, you guys patrol the stern.”
As I lead my team onto the bow, the Fairhaven leaves Indian Island behind. We return to the wider part of the bay. To our right is a narrow peninsula dotted with homes and rolling sand dunes. On our left is the city of Eureka.
I haven’t seen Eureka since I first journeyed to Arcata to find Carter. At that time, I’d been able to navigate the city and avoid zombies by being quiet.
That wouldn’t be possible now. The waterfront streets I once moved through on foot are now packed with zombies. They turn in our direction as we approach, many of them walking right into the water as they attempt to follow our sound.
“Oh, my God,” Reed says. “It’s a Costco! Anyone want to try and load up on samples before we go to Fort Ross?” He points to the giant wholesale store that backs up to the bay.
“Pay attention,” Ben snaps at him.
Costco. It’s surrounded by the undead. I can’t help but wonder what might be inside. Maybe when Johnny and Gary learn more of the alpha language, we’ll be able to drive the zombies back and get inside the store. But these are thoughts for another day.
I turn my attention back to the water. It’s a clear path between here and Hookton Channel, the waterway that leads from Humboldt Bay to the open waters of the Pacific Ocean.
The speedboats are still tailing us. My unease ratchets up several notches. Everything is looking too easy.
I edge around the boat in Susan’s direction. She’s the only one of us that’s seen this waterway semi-recently. “Do you recall anything about this area those guys might use against us?”
Susan’s expression is tight. “That’s the town of Samos.” She points to a tiny town on the peninsula to our right. It’s little more than a scattering of homes and rolling sand dunes. “That’s where Gary was attacked by the great white. There’s a lot of zoms in the water. This area is dangerous. If those pricks on the speedboats make a move, it’s going to be in here.”
“Kate, there’s something in the water,” Eric calls from the bow. “Grab the binoculars.”
I hurry back to the bow, binos in hand. I study the area of water indicated by Eric. The water is dotted with pale white objects.
“Are those ... ?” I frown, leaning closer for a better look. What I see chills me to my core. “Holy fuck. We’re in trouble.”
All across the bay are zombies. Hundreds and hundreds of zombies, all of them thrashing around in the water. There’s no clear path through them.
“What is it?” Ben hustles over to us. His nostrils flare when he sees the zombies. “Motherfuckers. It’s a trap.”
“What’s happening?” Susan demands.
There’s no time to sugarcoat our situation. “The bay is clogged with zombies.”
“How? They should be sinking?” Susan’s voice is pitched with panic. “They always sink unless they’re really dead.”
All I can do is stare at the hundreds of undead in the water. As we get closer, I see ropes around the zombie necks, holding them in place. Someone captured all these zombies and strung them across this section of the bay.
“We are so fucked if any of those body parts get stuck in the propeller,” Susan cries. “We have to do something!”
“Those assholes drove us right into their dragnet,” Ben growls. “Fucking pirates.”
A look over my shoulder confirms Ben’s suspicion. The two speedboats are edging closer to us. If we accelerate to get away, we risk our boat getting tangled in the zombies.
“God damn assholes,” Ben snarls. “If those fuckers want an old-fashioned shoot-out, I’ll give them one.”