"It's not your fault," Nicky said. "But I’d like to kick your buddy’s ass for leaving us."
Adam led Rachel and Finn to a cot.
Finn was silent. Rachel gathered him in her arms and they sat quietly. Adam was worried about them. They could all use some serious counseling after what they’d been though these past few weeks.
"What's the status of the camp?" Adam asked.
"We've seen better, but we’re still functional," Deerhorn said. "That horde showed up a few days ago. The military is organizing an airstrike, but it hasn’t happened yet."
"How many people?" Adam asked.
"Three thousand six hundred and forty-two, plus your group. Everyone has been assigned rooms and a job."
"A job?" Nicky asked.
Deerhorn nodded. "Food service, garbage pickup, medical, and if you have any real-world talents—sewing, iron working, stuff like that—then you get a special job. These days a mechanic is worth much more than a Wall Street trader.”
"Tell me the casinos are up and running,” Nicky said.
"Caesars Casino is open."
"There is a God," Nicky whispered.
Adam leaned forward on the edge of the cot. "What if the air strikes don’t come? Will the fence hold against that many of the undead?"
Deerhorn stretched his legs. "We’re constructing a second fence to fortify the first. One of the hotels was under construction and they had enough materials lying around to construct another fence. They’re also discussing sending out raid teams."
"To get more supplies?" Nicky asked.
Deerhorn nodded. "And to kill zombies in the area."
"More hordes will come." Adam stroked Rachel’s hair. "We saw one in Denver that was headed west. Thousands of them."
"We’ll deal with that if and when it happens." Deerhorn shrugged. "There's not much else we can do. We are the last major safe camp in America. There are a few smaller camps around the country, but they only have a couple hundred people."
“Do they know what caused the infection?” Finn asked.
“Bioterrorism. Aerosol cans of the virus were released in multiple points in Chicago.”
“Who claimed responsibility?” Adam sighed—this whole mess was man-made.
“I don’t think anyone had the chance,” Deerhorn said. “Ninety-nine percent of communications went dark after the first forty-eight hours.”
"What about overseas?" Adam asked.
"Western Europe has been ravished," Deerhorn said. "They didn't have sufficient military power to quell the initial onslaught. Not that we did, either, but America is faring better than Europe. I don't know about the rest of the world."
"Are any communications working?" Adam watched Finn’s vacant stare at the wall.
"No TV, but a handful of radio stations are still broadcasting. A group of kids in Seattle are delivering information via old-school resources—ham radio and Morse code. They’re reporting what they find over their national broadcast."
"People are still out there fighting?" Adam asked.
"Yes." Deerhorn rubbed his head. "And I hope to bring more of those people back to this safe zone."
~ ~ ~
Nicky didn't want to sleep. Because if he did, when he woke up, he’d—for a moment at least—forget that Lindsay and Cage were dead. He didn't want to relive that sharp stabbing feeling when he remembered that he'd never see them again, especially Lindsay.
Instead of sleeping, he stared at the door waiting for the twenty-four-hour quarantine to expire. He replayed what happened in his mind at the RV camp a thousand times to see if there was something he could’ve done to save her, but there wasn't. In the end, Lindsay had died a horrible, gruesome death.
Cage's death bothered him, too. Nicky should’ve taken the dynamite. He should've sacrificed himself.
Finn stretched out on the floor beside him. He was on the cot with Rachel and Adam, but he crawled down beside Nicky when the others went to sleep. Nicky loved the boy—he’d make it his life’s purpose to protect him from here on out.
Nicky sipped a Coke. He savored the burning sensation when the acidic soda slid down his throat. Whoever was in charge had brought dinner a few hours ago and everyone had devoured their trays. It was the best packaged Salisbury steak and instant mashed potatoes he’d ever eaten.
It was so ironic—they’d made it all the way across the country only to have his girl die on the last leg of the trip. Maybe it was karma for all the bad things he'd done in his life. Maybe it was payback for not killing his zombiefied grandmother so her soul could go to heaven. Hell—who knew why it happened? Maybe it was karma on Lindsay. All he knew was he'd lost her and now he was finally safe, but completely alone.
So much death—Vivienne. Selena. Morgan. Lindsay. Monica. Dean. Cage.
Nicky exhaled.
Fuck it.
He rolled over and went to sleep.
~ ~ ~
Three Weeks Later
The shower turned off and Adam's humming filled the room. Rachel smiled from under the sheets. It had been three weeks since their twenty-four-hour quarantine and the invasive physicals performed by the camp's team of doctors. Of course, they all passed. No one who'd been bitten would’ve lasted twenty-four hours in quarantine without changing into a zombie, but Rachel didn't mind the extra precaution.
It made sense.
After their physicals, they were escorted to a Starbucks, which was out of coffee, of course, but the building served as the administrative headquarters for Camp Freedom Two. They were processed and assigned rooms in the Wynn Hotel. Only Caesars Hotel had electricity running on generators. The other occupied hotels were livable, but didn't have modern-day amenities like electricity or air conditioning.
It wasn't too bad especially after the conditions Rachel had grown accustomed to during their cross-country escape. They had to walk up the stairs to the fifth floor, use candles at night (which were produced in the camp) and take cold showers. It was two to a room, so Adam and Rachel roomed together. They had grown closer in the few weeks at camp. Finn and Nicky had a room down the hall. There hadn't been any more survivors in the three weeks since their arrival at Camp Freedom Two.
Along with zero survivors came silence from the rest of the country. It was like they were on Mars—a hot, lonely planet with no communication with the outside world. Heck, maybe there was no one left to communicate with.
That was a daunting thought.
Adam's humming quieted when he walked into the room. He moved to the broken window—the rooms grew too hot without air conditioning, so the military had the hotel’s sealed windows broken out for ventilation.
Rachel admired Adam’s muscular back while he stood shirtless. She had the urge to drag him back to bed. “Good morning.”
Adam turned. "Hey, I thought you were asleep." He sat on the bed beside her and kissed her gently. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay,” Rachel lied. She’d been suffering from nightmares since their arrival, but she didn’t want to worry Adam. She'd grieved hard for Cage, and it still hurt to think about him.
"I have an early day today," he said. "Lunch later?"
"Of course."
“See you in a bit.” He kissed her again before heading out.
On their third day at Camp Freedom Two, they were assigned jobs. Adam volunteered to work on the construction of the second fence and Finn was officially his "apprentice." Only a handful of children had made it to the camp and there was nothing to occupy their time.
Nicky, somehow, finagled a job in the casino and was the camp's official bar tender. Rachel was glad he was doing something he enjoyed, because Lindsay's death had hit him hard. He was still their smartass Nicky, but he'd lost the bounce to his step.
The camp directors had assigned Rachel to the gardens, which meant she tended the vegetables on the small strips of arable land in the camp. Growing food in the desert wasn’t easy, but it was important because their supplies were limited. With over three
thousand people to feed and only so many supplies stored in the hotels and restaurants’ pantries, food was a major concern. Talks had already begun about volunteers going on raids to nearby towns to scavenge for more nonperishable food and seeds.
Rachel and Adam had discussed joining the upcoming raid. Deerhorn and a few others planned to search the nearby town of Henderson for supplies and survivors. Rachel wasn't overly excited about going out into the thick of things again, but she was an asset and could help. They hadn't made a decision yet, but deep down Rachel knew, Adam and she would be joining the raid.
After a cold shower and a granola bar, Rachel went down to the garden. She slipped on her sun hat to avoid the brutal Nevada sun. Whoever was in charge of the camp had cleaned out all the nearby shopping outlets giving the camp an abundance of clothing choices. It was nice to not be constantly covered in dirt and blood.
Rachel smiled as others survivors passed and went about tending the weeds in the green pepper section. She liked working in the garden—it kept her busy. After their adventurous road trip, life at camp was mostly quiet. When she was around the others, she was fine, but when she was alone, her mind wandered to Morgan and Cage.
Of course, Morgan’s death hurt the worse. Especially knowing they were relatively safe in Vegas. Morgan could’ve been by her side tending vegetables or playing with Finn. Instead, she was buried in some spot off a highway in Detroit.
Rachel teared up thinking about it.
She'd made her peace with Lindsay’s death. Rachel had felt incredibly guilty that Lindsay had been murdered at the campsite. But there was nothing Rachel could’ve done to save her. She accepted that now.
But Cage's death still hurt.
It was so Cage-like to sacrifice himself for the entire camp. He was so noble. She’d loved that about him and, after his death, Rachel promised herself to strive to be more like him.
Camp Freedom Two was a good place—almost as good as the farmhouse in the middle of the cornfield would’ve been.
A shadow fell over Rachel.
"I'm still having trouble with you being a gardener." Nicky scratched his recently cut hair. His long, shaggy locks were gone, replaced by a clean crew cut. The tip of his ear was missing from the axe slice, but the wound had healed without an infection. “It’s hard to wrap my head around it.”
Rachel shrugged. “It’s calming.”
"Ready for some grub?" Nicky asked.
"Sure." Rachel dusted off the dirt and walked with Nicky.
As they passed, zombies’ growls drifted on the warm air. Rachel was used to the sound—she couldn’t imagine living without it.
The airstrike had arrived a few days after their arrival. The fire blasted the majority of the zombies that hadn't fallen down the sewage system. The ones in the drain were taken care of, too. Still, the fence always boasted at least a hundred zombies poking their bloody fingers through it. It was a nonstop, endless supply of death.
"How much longer do you think until that horde from Denver shows up?" Rachel asked.
"Dunno," Nicky said. "How long does it take to walk from Denver to Vegas? Who knows? Maybe they turned north."
"Yeah," Rachel whispered. “Maybe.”
But the question remained unasked—what would happen if that horde, or another of the same size, wandered across the camp? Would the fence hold? Were they ever really going to be safe? To date, there was still no cure. No government plan. They were treading water in a deep ocean and crossing their fingers that they didn't drown.
Rachel and Nicky turned the corner. Adam and Finn sat in the shade with a bag of takeout food from the cafeteria. They were laughing and joking, and Rachel couldn't help but smile. This was her home and these once-strangers were her family now.
Whatever lay in the future, they would face together.
The End
Acknowledgements
Concluding a series is always hard, but I hope everyone is happy with the way this trilogy ended. Writing a novel takes a lot of support and I want to thank the people that helped me with this process. A big thank you to my parents for their continued love and support. Especially, my mother—she always knows what to say to make me smile. Thank you to my brother, Chano, who was my weapons and zombie expert and who gave me unfiltered feedback. To my son, Jackson, I love you more than anything! I hope one day (when you’re much older), you will read these books and enjoy them!
I have to thank my editor Amy Knupp at Blue Otter Editing. Your edits and comments made this story so much better! Thank you, Rahul Philip, for the amazing cover. It’s always a joy working with you. Check out more of his work at his website: http://www.rahulphilip.com
For more information on the Zombie Apocalypse Trilogy or other novels by Chelsea Luna, please visit the following websites:
http://www.chelsealunaauthor.com
http://www.facebook.com/ChelseaLuna.Author
Follow me on Twitter: @Chelsea_Luna_
BOOKS BY CHELSEA LUNA
Zombie Apocalypse Trilogy (Young Adult)
Love & the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1)
Death & the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2)
Revenge & the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3)
Nicky’s Novella – Coming Soon
The New England Witch Chronicles Series (Young Adult)
New England Witch Chronicles (Book 1)
Conjured (Book 2)
Wicked Betrayal (Book 3)
All Hallows Eve (Book 4)
Angels & Sinners Novella Series (Young Adult)
Torment of Shadows (Novella 1)
Mortal Sin (Novella 2) – Coming 2015
Monster Club Series (Middle Grade)
Monster Club: Case of the Ivy Hollow Werewolf
About the Author
Chelsea Luna is the author of two best selling young adult series, New England Witch Chronicles and Love & the Zombie Apocalypse. Chelsea received a Juris Doctorate from New York Law School in New York, New York in 2007, and a B.A. in Sociology, with a concentration in Criminal Justice, from the University of Tennessee in 2004. Chelsea lives in middle Tennessee with her son.
Chelsea Luna, Revenge & the Zombie Apocalypse
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