Welcome to my tour stop for Undead Ultra (A Zombie Novel) by Camille Picott! This is an adult post apocalyptic horror novel and the tour runs June 20 through July 1st with reviews, interviews and excerpts. Check out the tour page for the full schedule!
Blurb Description: Undead: a reanimated corpse with a craving for human flesh.
Ultramarathon: any footrace longer than a traditional marathon (26.2 miles).
For ultrarunners Kate and Frederico, a typical Saturday morning is spent pounding out a twenty- to thirty-mile “fun run.” It’s during one of their runs that an insidious illness descends upon northern California, turning humans into flesh-shredding zombies.
When Kate receives a desperate call from her son, Carter, she and Frederico flee their hometown and set out to help him. The only problem? Carter attends college over two hundred miles away and the freeways—clogged with car wrecks, zombies, and government blockades—are impassable. Running back roads and railroad tracks becomes their only means of travel, but neither of them has ever run so far before.
As pain, injuries, hunger, and fatigue plague them, getting to Carter and staying alive seem impossible. It’s either outrun the undead or become one of them, and for Kate, death is not an option.
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The phone falls numbly from my fingers.
Despite my inner attempt to rally, all hope
crumples up inside me. I slump over, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
This shit is real. CDC quarantines and
checkpoints. Bio threats. Port closures.
Zombies.
My son is out there, trapped. And I have no way to
get to him.
Frederico picks up my phone, silently thumbing
through the headlines. He lets me cry, administering more pats to my back. I
sense him looking up and down the frontage road.
“This isn’t over, Kate,” he says. “Not by a long
shot.”
“What are you talking about?” I raise bitter eyes.
“In case you didn’t notice, my car is completely fucked. Even if I did have a
car, there’s the CDC quarantine and the fact that zombies swarm cars. Carter is
barricaded in his dorm room with no one to help him. We’re stuck here.”
Frederico gives my back a final pat and pulls me
upright. Looking me in the eye, he says, “Lace up, Kate. We’re hoofing it.”
I blink stupidly at him. “What?”
“Your car is totaled,” he says. “With all the shit
that’s going down, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. You want to find your
son? Then we run.”
“You want to run? All the way to Arcata?”
He shrugs. “We scope out the situation as we go.
If the roads look safe, we find a car to rent or buy. Or steal one, whatever.
We can ditch it before we hit the CDC quarantine or if there are too many
zombies. In the end, we’ll need to be on foot to get into Arcata.”
“But . . .” I work a quick calculation in my head.
“That’s at least two hundred miles.”
Frederico takes my phone and pulls up a GPS app.
After a moment, he says, “It’s exactly two hundred and one point three miles
from this very spot to Humboldt University.”
“Two hundred and one miles?” I say,
incredulous. “Neither of us has ever run that far before.”
“How many miles did you log last week?”
“One hundred thirty-six,” I reply instantly. I
keep a running log and track my mileage and elevation work.
“I did one hundred and nine.”
I think about this. For the average, non-crazy
person, running two hundred or more miles would be impossible. At an ambitious
walk, they may cover fifteen miles a day. Maybe twenty, if they’re in great
shape. But Frederico and I have both made a hobby of running ultra races.
Insane long distances are our specialty.
My eyes dry. Something akin to hope blooms in my
chest. If we only stop once or twice for catnaps—ultramarathons are run with
little to no sleep—we can make good time. If we can find a car to use for a
while, we can make really good time.
“Do you think we can make it in two days?”
Frederico, sensing my budding optimism, considers
this. “Maybe, if we can knock out some distance in a car,” he says at last. “If
we make the majority of the trip on foot, three days is a safer estimate.”
“But we’ll be on the road,” I say. “Road running
is always faster than trail running, and we’ve both done one-hundred-mile trail
runs in under twenty-four hours.”
“I haven’t done a sub-twenty-four in over five
years, trail or road,” he replies. “The farther we go, the harder it will be to
hold a decent pace. There’s no guarantee we’ll even be able to stay on the
road. If things get hairy, we may be bushwhacking.”
“Seventy-two hours.” I nod, letting this new
reality sink in. I might not be cut out for zombie killing, but I am a
long-distance runner. “Okay.”
I pick up the phone and send one last message.
Sit tight, sweetie. Frederico and I are coming to
get you. Be there as soon as we can.
Five seconds later, my phone rings. Carter’s
smiling face pops up on the screen, an odd juxtaposition to everything that’s
going on.
“Put that thing on silent,” Frederico says.
I obey, then hit the speaker button. “I thought
you said you couldn’t talk on the phone,” I say anxiously.
“You can’t come here,” Carter hisses. His words
are barely above a whisper. “Cars are zombie magnets. I don’t know how far
south the outbreak has spread, but I’ve seen at least three cars get swarmed
today.”
“No problem,” Frederico replies. “Your mom’s car
is totaled, and we’re out in the middle of the vineyards without a taxi in
sight. We’re running to you.”
Silence.
“You guys are crazy,” Carter hisses. “You can’t run
here!”
“Your mom and I are indeed crazy, and we’re coming
to get you, kiddo. Deal with it.”
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Two (2) $5 Amazon gift cards (INT)
Ends July 6th
Prizing is provided by the author, hosts are not responsible. Must be 13 or older to enter and have parental permission if under 18. Void where prohibited by law. No purchase necessary to win.
This event was organized by CBB Book Promotions.
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