Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) by William Esmont

had reached the outskirts of Tucson that she realized the error of her decision. The city was crawling with undead. They were everywhere she looked. The elements had taken their toll on many, reducing them to desiccated fragments of their former selves. Yet, they were still as hungry as ever, dragging themselves through the sand-swept streets in search of their next meal.
    Chloe lived in the northern foothills. Had lived . But by the time Megan arrived, the only thing left of her sister’s house was blackened hillside and a charred foundation; an out-of-control brushfire had taken everything. Chloe and her family were nowhere to be found. 
    By that point, she was exhausted, and she had nowhere else to go. She had to make a choice. While the undead owned the core of the city, their numbers were sparse along the outskirts. Megan figured as long as she was careful, she could exist on the margins for a while, could continue to survive on scavenged supplies until she figured out her next steps.
    She set her sights on Scorpion Canyon, located on the far northeast side. According to the Welcome to Tucson guidebook she had liberated from an abandoned gas station, it had water year-round and was riddled with trails she could use in the event of a zombie attack.
    When she arrived at the low-slung ranger station on the edge of the canyon, she wasn’t surprised to find it locked and abandoned. A few minutes later, with the assistance of a large rock from the parking lot, she was inside, gorging herself on half-melted granola bars and bottled water.
    She had settled into her new home quickly. Being on her own, she needed little in the way of food. The worst part was the heat and the boredom. She solved the boredom with a cache of paperbacks liberated from a truck in the parking lot. The heat she would have to live with. Air conditioning was a distant memory.
    Cesar had come into her life during her first foray from the ranger station. It was early morning, and she was nearing an abandoned convenience store when three people burst from the desert and dashed across the road directly in front of her. As she watched in mute shock, they plunged into the brush on the opposite side and kept going without even acknowledging her. Megan had come to an abrupt stop, unable to believe what she had just seen. Then she set off in pursuit. “Hey!” she yelled. “Wait up!” By the time she caught up, she was panting like a dog and her thighs were chafed raw from her shorts.
    The people were filthy, layered in grime from head to toe. Tattered clothes and frayed backpacks told the story of a life on the run. Most telling of all were their faces. Every one of them shared a look of sheer terror, a manic fight-or-flight stare that set her nerves jangling.
    She bent over, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. “Who...” she gulped, trying to recover, “are you?”
    A short Hispanic man had gestured past her shoulder, in the direction from which they had just come. “We have to move. There are many undead behind us.”
    It took a second for Megan to digest what he was saying. “How many?” she finally asked.
    He shifted his gaze between her and his traveling companions. “Too many.” They ran.
    That day now felt like ancient history. Since then, their numbers had grown by leaps and bounds as word spread amongst the survivors remaining in the city. A hundred and three people now called the Scorpion canyon ranger station home. Most importantly, they were no longer running.
    “Megan?”
    “Yeah. I’m coming.” She collected her notebook from beside the bed and climbed to her feet. She followed Cesar down the hall, making her way to the front of the house. Unscented candles flickered in the main room, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
    “Hey, guys,” Megan said sheepishly.
    Seated in front of her on a collection of plush leather couches were most of the other members of the Scorpion Canyon Leadership Council. Fellow survivors and