Read Online Undead Ultra (A Zombie Novel) by Camille Picott - Free Book Online

footsteps become softer, lighter.
    The zombies don’t turn toward us. They are fixated on the car. They claw and scratch at it, snarling and growling.
    In the distance, a siren wails. The zombies hear it the same instant I do. All five of their heads turn, looking north toward the new sound.
    Seconds later, an ambulance and two cop cars zip by, tearing southward. As a unit, the five zombies peel away from the car. They turn, breaking into a run, and follow the sirens.
    One of them, a forty-something woman in blue jeans, smacks right into one of the other cars. She drops. An instant later, she’s back on her feet. Snarling, she reaches out with her hands and feels her way around the car, then resumes her run down the freeway.
    “Carter was right,” Frederico says softly. “They are blind.”
    “And attracted to noise,” I add, watching the zombie in blue jeans disappear down the road with the others. “I hope they don’t have enhanced hearing.”
    Frederico’s lips set in a grim line. “We’ll be fine so long as there’s something louder and more obnoxious to draw their attention.”
    “But if we’re the only ones around, we’re screwed,” I reply.
    The small town of Cloverdale comes into view at mile eight. It’s a cute hamlet nestled on the northwestern side of Lake Sonoma. Frederico and I slow, stopping to survey the town from a distance. From where we stand, it looks peaceful.
    “Maybe Cloverdale is safe enough for us to get a car,” he says. “How much money do you have in your bank account?”
    I hesitate. “I have Kyle’s life insurance money.” The idea of spending it opens an ache inside me. As if one more piece of Kyle is being taken away.
    You’re being stupid , I tell myself. Kyle’s gone.
    “There’s a used car dealer on the south side end of Cloverdale,” Frederico says.
    “You sure we should go into the town?”
    “No. But I do know this journey will be faster if we can knock out some miles with a car. I’m willing to run it, but faster is better.”
    I draw in a breath. “Okay. Let’s get closer and have a look.” I pause. “Maybe we should unhook your lug nut wrench?”
    “Good idea.”
    Two minutes later, we’re on our way again. Frederico, wielding the lug nut wrench in pink running shorts and polka-dot calf compression sleeves, looks like a vagabond nut job.
    The frontage road, which has been running parallel to 101, climbs a small hill and meets up with the freeway off-ramp. We jog up the rise and cross onto the overpass. We drop into crouches at the top, staring out at the scene.
    What stretches out before us is nothing short of suburban perfection. A Safeway shopping center dominates the scene, the parking lot flanked on either end by a gas station and McDonald’s. There’s a Boy Scout troop outside the McDonald’s gathered around the outside of a big white van. A few cars roll in and out of the parking lot, most people going into the grocery store.
    My gaze is drawn to the McDonald’s. It’s been at least a decade since I’ve set foot in a fast-food restaurant, but this one holds a potent memory for me.
     
    *
     
    I sat in the Cloverdale McDonald’s bathroom stall, positioning the pregnancy strip between my legs. My bladder was about to burst. I clenched the muscles, holding back the urine.
    I didn’t want to fuck this up; the test kit cost twenty dollars. I couldn’t afford to buy another one. Hell, I could hardly afford this one.
    When the stick looked to be in the right position, I let out a trickle of pee, bending forward and intently watching the yellow stream. It successfully hit the end of the stick.
    I relaxed, releasing a gentle stream of urine. I was careful not to let it gush out. The box said the urine needs to run over the tip for at least five seconds. I dragged it out for ten.
    Nothing to do now but wait. Three to five minutes, according to the box.
    I put the test strip on the toilet paper dispenser, rising to reposition my skirt. It was