Coby Cotton

Desolation Survival Camp

April 15, 2032

0534 Hours

I wake up way too early. The sun hasn't even shown a sign of clearing the treetops, and the night chill still hangs in the air. But my heart is pounding so hard I think it might throw itself out of my chest, and I have no idea why.

Blearily, I check my watch—5:34 a.m. I've been asleep for what, seventeen hours? I must've been really tired.

My head still hurts, but not like it did before—the pounding has subsided to a dull throb. What confuses me is the pain in my ankle—I don't remember injuring it, but when I flex it, it twinges. I squint in the dim light of the lantern, inspecting the joint and finding no sign of injury. What on earth?

Then I remember that night, six years ago, when our parents died, and I understand.

We were driving out of the city in our ATV, trying to make it to a safe haven, a camp, anything that would let us live a little longer. We'd cleared the city limits and drove into the woods, taking blind curves much faster than was legal. It was tense, but we thought we'd made it.

Then the zombies came out of nowhere, and Dad swerved. The trees came up fast, and the ATV went twenty feet down a hill. I had no way of knowing whether it was the crash or the zombies that killed our parents. All I knew was that Cory wasn't in the vehicle and that the undead were out there, and I had to get out.

I've never run so hard in my life. I think I was bleeding—I'd cracked my chin pretty hard on the seat in front of me, but I didn't even notice until after twenty minutes of running, when I tripped over a root and face-planted into the grass. By then, I was lucky I hadn't run into any zombies, because I could barely see through my tears and I was crashing around in the underbrush screaming for Cory. It was also a miracle that I hadn't injured myself worse, I guess.

At that point, I think I realized I needed to calm down or I wasn't going to get anywhere. I'd wiped the tears out of my eyes and decided to climb a tree so I could at least see Cory or any zombies coming.

Then, suddenly, halfway up the tree, my wrist buckled for no apparent reason, and I almost fell. I had to camp right there for the night, since I couldn't climb any higher, and I had no idea why. I hadn't even hurt my wrist, and I'd been using my hand for several minutes already. There weren't any weird movements I'd made that would injure it, and I couldn't find any bruising or swelling.

I slept up in that tree—belted myself to a branch, actually—and woke up when I heard footsteps. Loud ones, as if hordes of the undead were limping through the bushes. I decided the tree wasn't a good place to be caught if they came too close and climbed down, almost falling again. At that point, I didn't have any weapons, so I grabbed a tree branch, and when a dark figure stepped out of the woods, I swung it…

…and almost took Cory's head off. I barely missed, and my twin screamed, then flung his arms around me. I don't think he let go for at least five minutes. It wasn't until I pried him off me and he explained what had happened that I realized my twin's wrist was broken. I'd been feeling his pain, his weakness, and I'd never understood how.

I still don't understand how, but I think that's what's happening now. This isn't my pain. This is Cory's.

That's why my heart is pounding so fast. Somewhere in the woods, Cory is in pain, and I have to find him.

I stand, testing my weight gingerly. My ankle holds, so I limp cautiously out of the first aid tent, scanning the darkened woods. The only sign of dawn is a faint, milky line in the east, and the stars are still out, twinkling in a curtain of darkness beyond the canopy.

The twinges of pain in my ankle start to fade as I walk around the clearing, so I decide to look around. Hopefully I don't wake Tyler up, or Cody if he's back in camp. I don't want another arrow pointed at my chest.

At the edge of camp is a tree with a roll of toilet paper slid onto a narrow branch and a tarp hung from a limb above for privacy. I make use of these and then head back into the main clearing, trying to get a feel for the place.

Opposite the first aid tent is a larger tent, probably the sleeping quarters, and I can see the faint glow of a lantern inside. More lanterns have been hung from tree branches, and when I look up, I see ropes strung through the canopy, along with a rope ladder that runs up a trunk to a platform in the trees. A fence of willow branches runs around the perimeter of the camp, complete with a gate, and each branch has been sharpened into a spike. Man, these guys have everything.

I go over to the fence and look out into the dark woods, wondering where Cory is. I hope he's not alone. I hope he's found someone, anyone, to look out for him.

Please, God, I say silently, closing my eyes. Please let him be okay. Just let him be okay until I can get to him. Don't…don't let him get hurt. I've never asked You for anything more.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps.

For a moment, I dare to hope, but then I open my eyes.

Gray skin, wide staring eyes glinting in the light of the lanterns. Scraping sounds as if feet are being dragged through the brush. Hoarse, rattling gasps and the overpowering scent of death.

I barely even blink before I shoot.

"Zombies!" I shout as the first of the undead falls. "Ty, get out here!"

More credit is due here. Tyler is out of the tent in about ten seconds, wielding his bow and nocking an arrow—no, three. Three at once? I've seen some crazy zombie-fighting techniques, but nothing like that.

I have to be amazed when all three arrows spring from the bow and strike as many zombies in their chests. But more are pouring out of the woods, and I return my attention to the undead, firing into the woods as Cody stumbles out of the tent with a shotgun.

"Zombies?" he complains. "We had a three-year streak!"

He cocks the shotgun, then pulls the trigger, and several zombies wail in agony, probably more from the sound of the blast than from any kind of pain. I squint through the sight of my pistol and fire off a few rounds, felling two zombies. Tyler sends an arrow straight through a head, then another through two chests. That kid is insane.

"Back-to-back, boys!" Tyler yells. "I'm getting a better vantage point! Gotta see their numbers!"

He makes for a nearby tree and scrambles up it, bow between his teeth. I try and go back-to-back with Cody, but it's not a great fighting position, because my head barely comes up to his shoulder blades.

I fire into the trees as more and more zombies stream out of the woods, my focus narrowing down to the path of my gun. Some of the undead bump against the fence but seem unable to climb over, and they'd get skewered if they did. I decide not to focus on those ones unless they get over somehow and instead fire at the ones below Tyler. If he falls, I don't want him landing in the middle of a horde.

"They're gonna knock down the fence!" Cody shouts as another blast from his shotgun makes my ears ring. "Ty!"

"Just a second!"

Tyler is standing up on a branch, pulling his bowstring back. His balance is impeccable—all he has are his feet planted on the branch, and he's not even shaking. As I watch, he draws back and lets his arrow fly.

Then several unfortunate things happen at once.

A loud splintering sound comes from the other side of camp, startling both me and Cody. As I whirl around, Cody's shotgun goes off again, and Tyler yelps in shock as zombies flood into the camp.

It takes me a moment to realize what's going on. My ears are ringing worse than ever, and my headache has returned in full force. But, through the dark, I can make out the broken fence and Tyler's crumpled figure on the ground, and I register what must have happened. Cody's shot went off target, and it must have passed close enough to Tyler that he jumped, or fell, out of the tree. Or it hit him—I hope that's not it.

Still firing, I look over to see Tyler trying to stand, but all he can manage is leaning against the tree. He nocks an arrow and fires, but it doesn't fly with the same power, and his body jerks abruptly. Something's wrong.

"There's too many of them!" Cody screams as the zombies begin to stagger through the camp toward us, coming from all sides now. "We're dead!"

"No, we're not!" Tyler insists. "Codes, get the emergency bag! Cotton—get over here and cover us!"

I break away from Cody, jumping over the fallen undead to reach Tyler. As Cody sprints across the camp, heading for the big tent, I fire on every zombie that comes near him, simultaneously aware of Tyler pressed against the tree behind me. I barely even know these guys, and now I have to protect both of them.

Cody ducks into the tent and pops back out a few seconds later, with a giant backpack slung over his shoulder. He tears across the clearing back to us, and I shoot a particularly fast-moving zombie as Tyler says, "Quick, Cody, boost me up!"

"Into the tree?"

"What else? Come on, go!"

Cody forms a stirrup with his hands, and Tyler steps into it, almost falling as his leg buckles under him. It's a good thing Cody is so tall—Tyler practically flies into the branches, crouching on a limb and looking down with barely concealed pain written all over his face. "You next, Cotton!"

I don't even have to step into the stirrup. Cody simply grabs me around the waist and throws me upward, and I let out a somewhat embarrassing squeak before I manage to clamp my hands around a branch and anchor myself to the tree. Cody scrambles up after me, grabbing both my hood and Tyler's collar and dragging us upward. I struggle to keep up, scraping my palms on the rough bark.

After a few branches, I realize where Cody is going: to one of the platforms set up in the trees. I wonder how he's going to get all the way up there with both of us, but then he flings Tyler over his shoulders and tucks me under his arm. I grab the strap of his backpack, not trusting Cody not to drop me. Seriously, though, how strong is this guy?

"Put me down, Codes!" Tyler yells, but Cody ignores him and keeps plowing through the branches. A twig whips across my cheek, and I feel a warm trail of blood well up in its wake, but I ignore it and squeeze my eyes shut against the many sharp points raking across my face.

Finally, I'm dumped onto plywood, and I sit up, still unsure of everything that's going on. My ears have stopped ringing, but my head is still pounding, and there are several scratches on my cheeks. As I squint through the darkness, I can see that Tyler and Cody are both similarly disheveled, with scratched-up faces and leaves in their hair. I rake my fingers through my own, pulling out a few leaves and even a twig.

"Thanks, Cody," I gasp, my hands shaking. "That…that was…"

"Insane!" Tyler pants. He's sitting with one leg stretched out in front of him, grimacing as he tries to flex it. "Codes, since you got us out of there, I'm gonna forgive you for scaring me out of this tree. But seriously, dude, you couldn't have pointed your shotgun somewhere else? I almost died!"

"Sorry," Cody says sheepishly. "It was dark. And the zombies startled me. What was I supposed to do?"

"What you did was fine with me," I say, trying to stop my voice from trembling. "You're strong, man."

"You weigh practically nothing," Cody laughs. "It wasn't hard. Hey, Ty, what'd you do to your leg?"

"I don't know," Tyler grinds out, his teeth clenched as he examines the injured area. "Definitely messed up my knee. No way I can walk on this."

I peer over the side of the platform, watching the zombies stream into the camp. Several have gathered at the base of the tree, staring up at us with unseeing eyes, and one is running into the side of the tent over and over again.

"Sorry, guys," I say, "but I don't think you're getting your camp back anytime soon."

"No way," Tyler agrees. "Good thing you were there, Cotton—we might not have noticed until they were right on top of us if you hadn't yelled."

"Yeah," Cody adds. "We'd be totally undead if it wasn't for you."

"It's no problem," I reply, tracing the edge of a scrape on my hand. "You see zombies, you start screaming. It's just what you do."

"I can't believe we lost the camp!" Tyler exclaims, pounding a fist on the plywood as he watches the zombies knock over the first aid tent. "Six years and they've never come in! Why now? We haven't even seen one in the woods for—what, three years?"

"Hey, look on the bright side!" Cody says cheerfully. "We're up in a tree! We're safe! And we have the emergency bag, so we're all set!"

"But we're, you know, treed," Tyler growls, "and we've only got the emergency bag! With enough supplies in it for two people! What are we supposed to do with three? This is every kind of horrible! I am so done!"

"Y'all don't have to waste any supplies on me," I insist. "I can probably scavenge some stuff."

Tyler buries his face in his hands. "No. It's fine. I'll figure this out. There's gotta be a way to get out of this."

"Better leave him alone," Cody stage whispers to me. "When he starts thinking, we can't move or say anything or he'll explode. You wanna help me go through the supplies? We can go to a different platform where Ty won't rage at us."

"Sounds good," I breathe. "How do we get to a different platform, exactly?"

Cody stands up, stepping onto a branch. "C'mon, follow me."

And he starts moving through the treetops, almost running. I follow much more cautiously, trying not to look down in case I plummet out of the trees. I've never been afraid of heights, but my concussion is not helping things, and I'm still shaking a little with adrenaline and fear. This is quickly turning into one of the craziest days of my life.

After a somewhat harrowing journey, Cody sits down on another scrap of plywood, and I sink down beside him. He takes the backpack off his shoulders and lays it on the wood, opening it and pulling out what might very well be an entire camping store.

A pot. A couple of Life Straws. A coil of rope. Several compasses and whistles. Thermal blankets, rain ponchos, a tarp. A first aid kit—that's going to be helpful—complete with suturing supplies. Extra clothes, socks, a couple of bedrolls. About fifty feet of Nerds Rope. A fire starter, an assortment of knives, a stick of actual deodorant—wow. I don't think I've ever met anyone more prepared than Cody and Tyler.

"That is…" I cast my mind around for a suitable word. "Impressive."

"This is all Ty's," Cody says dismissively. "Except for the Nerds Rope. That's mine. But don't worry, I'll totally share. Hey, why were you up so early this morning? Personally, I don't think anyone should ever get up earlier than ten."

I shrug, keeping my face impassive. "I dunno. Just…thinking, I guess."

"About your brother?"

"Am I that obvious?"

Cody grins. "Yes. Absolutely, utterly, mind-blowingly obvious. Before you ask, I didn't turn up any signs of him on my first pass. But that doesn't mean there aren't any. And I'll do another pass once we figure this tree thing out. So don't worry—I've got this down. Your bro's gonna be fine."

There is suddenly a lump in my throat. "Thanks, Cody. For…for everything."

He smiles again, reaching out his hand for a bro shake. "No problem, man. You know, I can't wait to meet your brother. What's he like?"

I hesitate for a moment. Usually, Cory and I try not to give out too much personal information, since everything can be used against us. But this is coming from the guy who's trying to find my twin, and even though I'm still wary of Cody, the look on his face is so earnest that I can't say no.

"He's…nothing like me," I start. "Smiling all the time, overreacting to every little thing. He's the most loyal guy you could ever meet, and he trusts people he's never met before. I stopped believing in humanity a long time ago, but Cory…he still thinks everyone is good at heart, even when I try to tell him that most people only look out for themselves. Cory is the kind of guy who feeds ducks, hugs everyone, laughs when the world is falling in…he's just so happy to be alive."

I swallow, realizing my eyes are burning with unshed tears. "The world needs more people like him."

Cody puts a hand on my knee, and I flinch but remind myself that he's not a threat as he says, his voice cracking, "I'll find him, Coby. I promise."

"Thanks, man," I whisper, dragging a hand across my eyes. I'm not going to cry. "Really, you're the best."

"Hey, no problem," Cody says breezily. "We should probably get cleaned up. I bet the zombies can smell blood."

He picks up the first aid kit and tosses me a tube of antibacterial ointment. "Rub that on your hands. I'm gonna try and find the gauze."

Grateful for the change of subject, I catch the tube and unscrew the cap, squirting a line of ointment onto my scraped palm. Making sure there isn't any dirt or debris in the abrasion, I rub the gel into it, wincing at the sting. My other hand receives the same treatment, and I dab more ointment onto the scratches on my face.

Cody passes me the gauze, and I give him the tube. Carefully, I wrap a layer of gauze around my hands, taping it in place, and run my fingers over my cheeks to see if there are any scratches that need bandaging. I don't think any of them are deep enough to warrant Band-Aids, so I throw the gauze back to Cody, who tapes up most of his face.

"You look like a mummy, man," Cody laughs, and I can't help but grin. Out of the two of us, he's certainly much more the mummy.

"You think Ty's done thinking yet?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder to where Tyler sits, leaning back against the tree trunk. Cody studies him for a moment, squinting through the deep blue light.

"He looks less tense," he decides. "We can probably go back and help splint his leg. I'll hold him down while you strap it."

"Is that gonna be, like, necessary?" I ask nervously. "Because I'm pretty sure Ty could kick me out of the tree."

Cody laughs. "Here's hoping."

He scoops the supplies back into the backpack and sets off through the branches. The sky is slowly becoming lighter, so I can see a little better as I thread my way through the leaves.

"We're gonna have to go through the trees," Tyler announces as we step back onto his platform. "We can't go back to the ground until we're at least half a mile away from the zombies. Do you have the splint pack with you, Codes? Tell me you have the splint pack."

"Of course," Cody says, setting the pack down again and pulling a smaller camouflage case out of it. "Is your knee broken?"

"It's called the patella," says Tyler impatiently, taking the case, "and yeah, I think it's broken. No thanks to you."

"I said I was sorry!"

Tyler pulls an Ace bandage out of the camo case and pulls it over his knee, gritting his teeth. He tightens the straps and holds out his hands, and Cody and I both take one, pulling him up.

"Advil." Tyler's voice is strained. "C'mon, Cody, we don't have all day."

"I got you," Cody reassures him, producing a container of ibuprofen. "You want some, Coby? Your last dose has definitely worn off by now."

"That'd be great," I admit. "But you can give some to Ty first. He looks like he needs it."

"Can you guys take them dry?" Cody asks. "We don't have water yet—we've gotta fill up my bottles in the river."

Both of us nod, and Cody hands us the pills. It takes some effort, but I manage to swallow them dry, hoping the medicine will kick in soon. My head still feels like someone is kicking it. With cleats.

"Toss me the rope, Codes," Tyler orders. "We're tying ourselves together; it'll make it harder for anyone to fall. Unless it's you—then you're taking me and Cotton with you. So you'd better not fall, big guy."

"Did I fall when I was carrying you two up here?" Cody asks, chagrined. "No! If anyone's falling, it's gonna be you, Ty. You're the one with a broken pat—pel—kneecap."

"I don't know," I say worriedly. "I'm the one with a concussion."

"But you weigh about as much as that backpack," Tyler scoffs. "Even if you do fall, nothing's gonna happen. C'mon, let's go."

"This seems like a horrible idea," Cody complains, even as he ties the rope around his waist. "One of us could take everyone else down."

"But we'll also be able to pull him up," Tyler points out. "We'll be fine, Codes. Shut up and make sure that knot's tight."

Once Tyler and Cody have finished tying their knots, I take the end of the rope and wind it tightly around my waist, tying the strongest knot I can. Giving it an experimental tug, I decide that it's not going anywhere.

"All set?" Tyler asks, and I nod. "Great. Let's head out."

I'm letting myself be tied to these guys for the time being. But I keep one hand on my pocketknife as often as I can, because if there is one rule I live by, it's this: even when you think you can trust people, there might still be times when you need to cut the rope.