Undead Ultra (A Zombie Novel) Read Free

plantar fasciitis has been bothering me. You know that.” It’s true. Kind of. I’ve struggled with plantar fasciitis—an inflammation of the foot tissue—on and off for years.
    “Kate, don’t give me that. You’re in the best shape of your life and we both know it.”
    I shift uncomfortably in my chair, studying my coffee. Without Kyle, I just don’t have the desire to race. I have no one to run to .
    “Race entry fees are too expensive,” I say at last. “I need to save money to help Carter with school.”
    I’m full of shit and Frederico knows it, but he doesn’t push me. I deal with the awkward silence by fishing my phone out of my purse and absently checking for texts or missed calls.
    I’m not really expecting to find any messages, but to my surprise there are three missed calls, two voicemails, and two text messages from my son. He’s twenty and attends college in a hippie town four hours north of Healdsburg. Frowning in surprise, I thumb through the texts.
    Mom, where r u? the first message reads. The second one says, Call me asap.
    “Huh,” I murmur to myself.
    “What?” Frederico asks.
    “Carter texted me twice and tried to call three times.”
    Frederico raises an eyebrow. “It’s barely nine o’clock in the morning. He must need money.”
    I chuckle at the joke. We both know Carter isn’t the type of kid to ask for money. Rather, he’sthe sort of kid who would call to ask the best way to cook brown rice or how to make chicken stock from scratch. There’s no telling what he’s up to.
    As Frederico smiles at my laughter, I know I’m off the hook for bullshitting him. I put the phone to my ear, expecting to hear my son’s cheerful voice. Instead, his words come out in a harsh whisper.
    “Mom? Mom, where are you?” There’s an edge to his words that borders on fear. “Look, call me as soon as you get this message, okay? Wherever you are, I need you to find Frederico and get back to the house. God, I hope you’re not on the trail today.”
    I blink in surprise, a lump of anxiety forming in my stomach. I’m always out on the trail on Saturday mornings. What’s going on with my laid-back, quasi-hippie son? If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was playing some sort of fraternity hazing joke on me, but Carter would just as soon shave his legs as join a college fraternity.
    “What’s up?” Frederico asks, studying my face.
    I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
    I thumb to the next voice message. Carter’s voice fills my ear. The edge is still there. If possible, it’s been amplified.
    “Me again, Mom. You’re probably out on the trail. Hopefully with Frederico. Look, I need to you to drive home, lock everything, and barricade all the windows and doors. Fill up the bathtubs with water. I know this sounds weird, but please, trust me. Call me as soon as you can.”
    The lump in my stomach grows. I immediately call him back, chewing on my lower lip as the phone rings.
    And rings. And rings some more, finally switching over to voicemail.
    “Hey, sweetie,” I say. “It’s me. I’m with Frederico. Call me, please. You’re scaring me.”
    “What’s up?” Frederico asks.
    I wordlessly hand the phone to him. Frederico listens to the messages, a crease forming between his brows.
    “Think he’s playing a joke on you?” He sets the phone down after listening to the messages.
    “Maybe,” I reply. “That’s not really Carter’s style, though.”
    “No, it’s not.” Frederico scratches his head. “Well, you can try him again after breakfast.”
    I nod, unable to dispel the unease lodged in my gut. I set the phone on the table so that I won’t miss another call or text from Carter.
    Our breakfast arrives. We dive into the meal. As I stuff a fork of hash browns into my mouth, I idly stare through the window out at the Plaza. It’s a large grassy area with soaring, manicured trees, a gazebo, and a water fountain that doubles as a toddler swimming pool in the summer.