Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (27 page)

Jeff stumbled, fighting to catch his breath. He searched the surrounding fog, lost and alone. He fought to keep moving, fought to find his friends.
They need me. Why am I so fat and slow? I’m strong. They need me!
 

Jeff found the strength to push forward, breaking off the ground and charging at the grey fog, not knowing what direction to take. And as he made it past the closest tree, a branch swung for his face. He evaded the attack, not with an impressive dodge, but by a clumsy trip. The branch grazed the top of his head. Crashing in the dirt, he rolled over, staring at the kidnapper above him. He quivered.
Fight, Homer, fight!
He heard Kale’s voice, just like when they played video games.
Fight!
 

A gloved hand shot around Jeff’s neck. Long fingers tightened. Jeff squirmed and kicked, and then grabbing his attacker’s arm with both hands, fought to shake free.
Why am I so fat? Why wasn’t I faster?
His breaths vanishing, his kicks slowed, and his fight died, and he hated himself for not being a stronger runner.
 

Searching for anything to guide him, all Kale saw were trees and fog and more trees and more fog. He panted against a tree.
Damn, Scot is fast.
Spinning around in circles, he looked for Jeff.
 

A distant scream ran a shiver down Kale’s spine. He sprinted for it, knowing he got his friends into this mess, knowing he had to get them out. After pushing himself to a limit he didn’t even know he was capable of, he stumbled several times in exhaustion, pressed against trees to stay upright and remain in the battle.
 

When Kale stopped running, he dropped his arms to his sides. They dangled uselessly against his legs before his knees fell to dirt. His head aching, his mind numb, he stared at the never-ending fog.
 

Another scream, but this time Kale recognized Alec’s voice.
Get up, asshole. Get up,
he told himself.
They need me.
Kale lunged to his feet. Forgetting every ache and every pain, he ran. He ran for them, ran for his dreams, ran to end a nightmare he’d forced his way into. Flying past trees, past bushes, past—
 

Kale’s feet suddenly had no traction and he ran on nothing. His body weightless, he fell out of the fog and tumbled down a steep hill. He spun every which way possible, rolling end over end through dirt and leaves. Swinging his hands aimlessly, he hoped to grab something to slow his fall.
 

Nothing.
 

A dirt patch on the side of the road broke his face open. Dirt stuck to his lips as he choked in agony.
My friends. I have to help them. Get up.
He fought to stand but an aching pain weighed him down, so he crawled with shaking limbs, reaching the cement road. Two headlights swung around a bend. He weakly raised an arm, tried to wave.
 

The truck didn’t slow down.
 

Adrenaline kicked in harder. Kale pushed to his feet, waving like a frantic maniac for a couple seconds, then threw himself off the road to dodge the truck.

The truck slammed to a stop, just short of Kale. A man wearing a trucker hat hopped out, exclaiming upon seeing Kale, “Jesus, bro, look at this kid.” The man rushed to Kale, looking him in the face as he groaned. “What happened to you?”
 

“My friends...” Kale’s head wobbled to face the man. “We have to save them.”

The cloaked man dragged Scot through dirt.
 

Jeff was next to him, miserable, eyes dazed. Their bodies bumped up and down with each step the cloaked man took. Scot tried to look past the man, tried to find help, safety, salvation. Then he saw it.
 

In the distance, Alec’s body was slumped against a brick wall.
 

A prison. A dungeon.
 

A well.

eight years later

SCOT
 

On one side of the Pacific Coast Highway were steep cliffs overlooking ocean. On the other side were various mountains, valleys, and sometimes, lovely restaurants.
 

The ride was silent, but Scot could tell someone wanted to speak. Something.
Anything
.
 

Five passengers, they were headed north in a Suburban. Their driver, Nasir, kept his eyes steady and to himself. He neatly dodged the occasional crashed or abandoned car. For the most part, the highway was clear. Once in a while there would be a stumbler or sprinter on the side of the road, a nice decayed change in scenery.
 

Sitting in the car, thoughts raced through Scot’s mind. Nasir was at the top of the list.
What does he want with me? Does he want anything at all?
His hand lay flat and awkward on the leather of the car seat, inches from Kelsey. She was close to him, physically, but felt as distant as their two years apart.
 

Sadie was in front of her, playing with her blunt bangs and staring vacantly at the mountainside. Scot figured she was deep in
dark
thoughts.
 

Behind them all was CJ. He made the most noise. He was constantly fidgeting and playing with the baseball hat covering his shaggy brown hair. He was the first to break the silence. “Damn, still no service.” He held his cracked phone, sliding a finger across its touchscreen.

“Waiting for an important call?” Scot stretched his arm on the middle seat.
 

“No, I was hoping to tweet about this.”
 

“Jesus, tweet what?”
 

“#zombieapocalypse, bro.”
 

“Unbelievable.”
 

“What?”
 

“At a time like this, you’re thinking about
Twitter
. Heck, no need for zombies, we were doomed from the start by you technophiles.”
 

CJ shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean by technophile, so I’m going to ignore it.”
 

“Fair enough.” As Scot turned, he took a sidelong look at Kelsey. Her arms were scratched but still lovely and her skin was lightly kissed by the sun, giving her a healthy glow. One of her tank top straps had ripped but she’d taped it together before leaving Green Hills. Out of habit, his eyes wandered down her slender body to her long legs hugged tightly by jean shorts. A bandage was taped across her thigh. A small spot of blood had soaked through. “You okay?”
 

Kelsey turned from the window. “Depends on what okay means.”
 

Scot pointed. “I mean your leg.”
 

“Oh, yeah, cut it on some glass last night. Nasir bandaged me up.”
 

I probably should’ve noticed earlier.
“Does that guy save everyone?”

“He saved your butt.” Kelsey nudged him playfully without looking at him. His face was inches from her ear. Her smell, that smell he’d always craved, blessed him, masking out the rotten stench the world now wore. Either that, or it was the Suburban’s strangely effective air freshener.
 

Tension crawled over Kelsey’s body.
Tell her something good. Tell her—
 

The moment was broken by CJ huffing from the back seat. “And I was so close to getting my brown belt.”
 

Scot sat straight and looked back at CJ. “What, you took Taekwondo? I used to take lessons.”
 

“No, man. Brown belt, you know? Like get with a Mexican chick. Well, any kind of Latina really.”
 

Scot chuckled, hoping Kelsey didn’t hear it. She did, of course, being right next to him. Sadie also heard and twisted in the front seat to look back at everyone. “I have my brown belt,” she announced.
 

CJ grinned, leaning sharply forward between Scot and Kelsey. “Marry me.” Sadie cocked her head in confusion as CJ cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I mean, I mean that’s cool. I have my blue belt.”
 

“What’s blue?”

“Jewish.”
 

“What about green?”
 

“Irish.”
 

“Yellow?”
 

“Asian.”
 

“And black?”
 

“Self-explanatory. Just like white.”
 

Kelsey joined in. “What about red?”
 

“Indian. Any kind of Indian, really. Navajo Indian or India Indian.” He pointed at Nasir. “No offense.”
 

The old man ignored him.
 

“Okay,” said Scot, “what about orange?”
 

“Oompa Loompa.”
 

Sadie shifted in her seat, and to Scot’s surprise, was fully engaged in the conversation. “Ooompa Loompa?”
 

“Yeah, like a person who fake tans, spray tans or whatever. Their skin is orange.”
 

Scot caught Kelsey’s eye and smiled. “How has he survived this long?”
 

Kelsey laughed. “Okay, I got you now, CJ. What’s a purple belt?”
 

CJ rubbed his hands and grinned again. “Ah, the elusive purple belt. The toughest of all...” his voice drifted off.
 

“Well?” Sadie prompted with a jerk of her chin.
 

“The purple belt, my friends, this belt is awarded to anyone who can bed someone of the opposite sexual orientation. Or, put another way, a gay, a homo, a butt pirate, a carpet munch-”
 

“Enough.” Sadie’s interest dwindled. “You’re ridiculous.” She kept looking at him though. “How many belts do you have?””
 

“Three,” CJ declared.
 

“Damn, kid, how old are you?”
 

“Seventeen.”
 

“Oh, so you’re full of shit,” laughed Scot.
 

CJ shrugged. “Believe what you want, bro. How many belts do you have?”
 

Scot’s mouth opened but he paused.
 

“Spill it, Scotty.” Sadie relished his discomfort. He wouldn’t say in front of Kelsey — she was his first belt, his first everything. The number had grown rapidly since he’d left her.
 

He cleared his throat. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”
 

Sadie snorted in disbelief. “You, a gentleman?”
 

Scot was ready for a scathing rejoinder when Kelsey brushed his hand with hers. “Don’t be shy. I don’t mind.”
 

CJ touched her shoulder. “Why would you mind? By the way, you look like you might be a green belt or maybe a-”
 

Brakes squealed as the Suburban screeched to a sudden stop. CJ hadn’t been wearing a seat belt and flew from the back and crashed against Nasir’s seat, falling into Scot’s lap.
 

Scot had stretched his own arm out to protect Kelsey when the car jerked to a stop. She glanced at his arm, and then followed his gaze to the road.
 

Dead end.
 

If I survive this, if I make it through this hell, I swear I will change. I know I can change. Just let me survive this.
The zombies were one thing. The death of his girlfriend was one thing. But heights? A whole different game. Unacceptable. He took one quick glance at the crater in the highway, ripped open like the letter C, as if a creature had taken a massive chomp out of the asphalt. He couldn’t tell how far the drop down was, or what caused it.
An unnaturally large shark?
He couldn’t examine long enough to make an educated guess.
 

Jelly in his wobbling legs, Scot almost fell over as he stood on a wrecked school bus which blocked the highway. The overturned bus had inadvertently saved them from a trip down shark-bit mountain, however, and as he
stared back at the Suburban, he swore its open white doors were inviting him to get in and turn the other way.
 

But leave her? Not an option.
 

CJ had his baseball bat tucked between his backpack and body, and was the first of their group to lower off the bus, landing on less than a foot of the crumbling highway. Scot had to give the teen some credit. Beyond his immaturity and crassness, hidden reserves of courage showed life.
Or maybe that’s the immaturity.
 

The remaining highway was barely wide enough for them to wrap around the crater and continue on.
But where are we even going? North, yes, but where?
Scot was finding his decision to leave Green Hills more foolish with every passing hour.
 

Nasir and CJ helped Sadie down next.
 

“What could’ve done this?” Sadie asked CJ, indicating the destroyed highway.
 

“Maybe a bomb?”

She sighed and grabbed CJ’s gangly arm.
 

A sea breeze gently tousled Nasir’s grey curls as he grabbed Scot’s shoulder. The two men and Kelsey were still on the overturned bus. “Ready?”
 

Hell no
. He stepped next to Kelsey. “Ladies first.”
 

Nasir snorted like a lion, hiding a small smile.
Wait, do lions snort?
He turned to Kelsey, who flashed a bright smile at both men.
 

“You really need to get over your fear of heights,” she poked Scot.
 

His mouth broke wide and he leaned back to release his routine self-mocking chuckle. “Fear of heights? Me? That’s funny. When do you start your comedy tour?”
 

Both Kelsey and Nasir ignored him and soon she was off the bus. Scot stepped forward, his legs shaking. He felt weak and dizzy.
The Suburban. Turn back. Get in. Go. Kelsey...no, just go.
But he kept walking, weak step after weak faltering step.
 

“You’ll be fine.” Nasir stood an inch taller than Scot.
 

Scot was miserable. “Can I get that in writing?”
 

“No, but you have my word.”
 

Such a serious voice.
He figured this was as good time as any to ask, “What do you
really
want with me?”