Undead Rain Trilogy Box Set

by Shaun Harbinger

Chapter 5

  By the time I got to the top of the steps, the sky had cleared and the sun was beating down, making steam rise from my wet clothes. I cast a nervous glance around. An overgrown grassy area in front of me led to a coastal road that wound around the cliff tops. Across the road, a row of three-storey houses, some of which had been made into inns, looked empty.

  I crawled into the grass, my head turning left and right as I tried to take in all of my surroundings. The noises from the soldiers at the marina were faint now. I could hear far away shambling sounds, which I was sure must be zombies coming out of hiding but I couldn’t tell how many there were or their location.

  I felt exposed out here in the grass, vulnerable. Across the road, a number of cars were parked outside the houses. If I could get a vehicle, I would feel safer. I could leave the city, drive somewhere remote and decide what to do next. I couldn’t make any decisions while I was in danger of being killed by a herd of nasties or thrown into a Survivors Camp by the army. I couldn’t think of anything except my immediate self-preservation.

  I ran across the road, keeping low, and rested between two parked cars. Logic told me that if the cars were parked here outside their owners’ homes, the car keys were somewhere in the houses.

  Along with the owners. Alive or dead. Either way, they were a danger to me.

  The house closest to me had a wooden porch painted in flaking eggshell blue paint. The sun and salty air had taken their toll on the house’s exterior, eating at the wooden window frames and fading the paint until it looked like a sun-bleached skull covered in flaking pieces of bone.

  I broke cover and went up the steps to the porch. It creaked beneath my boots. The front door was made of wood painted in the same pale blue and had two panels of frosted glass running down each side. I put my hand on the rusted metal handle and tried the door.

  Locked.

  Using the tip of the baseball bat, I broke the pane of glass nearest the handle and reached inside, hoping the key was in the lock. If not, I would have to try another house.

  My searching fingers found a bunch of keys hanging from the lock. I felt for the key that was in the door, found it and turned it. The lock clicked and the door opened.

  I stepped inside, glad to be off the street. But the stench that hit me made me wonder if I was safer outside.

  The smell of rancid meat hung in the air.

  Trying not to puke, I readied the bat and made a quick assessment of the place. The hallway and stairs were covered in thick grass-green carpet. The wallpaper was pale lime. Someone sure liked green.

  Was that someone still here?

  To my left, an open doorway revealed a living room. There was a TV and leather furniture in there but no movement. Ahead of me, a doorway led to the kitchen. I could see a small white microwave sitting on the counter but the rest of the room was out of sight. I could hear the high-pitched buzzing of a swarm of flies in there.

  I crept forward slowly, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps.

  I peered around the edge of the doorway. There was nothing in there except an oven, dishwasher and a sink full of dirty dishes. The flies were big and loud, buzzing around the sink and colliding with a window that showed a messy yard out back. The rotting smell was worse in here, making me heave.

  I went over to the sink, swatting at flies as they swarmed around me. Sitting among the dirty dishes, the carcass of a chicken crawled with maggots. They writhed over the flesh. I backed away.

  The smell of rotting meat wasn’t a zombie at all; it really was rotting meat. It looked like somebody had left here in a hurry. The back door was still slightly ajar. So the occupants had left the keys in the front door and fled out the back.

  Remembering why I had entered the house, I wondered if they had taken their car with them. A quick search of the kitchen told me there were no car keys here. I went back to the hallway and closed the kitchen door to lessen the stink of the chicken.

  In the living room, I found a key fob on the coffee table. I wondered if the people who lived here were still alive or if they were dead somewhere.

  Either way, I was taking their car. A large bay window showed the street outside. Still deserted. I pointed the key fob at the row of cars and pressed the unlock button. The lights on a black Astra flashed.

  If the car had fuel, I was out of here.

  I checked the street again from the front door. All clear.

  The Astra locked itself with a click by the time I reached it so I pressed the fob again and slid into the driver’s seat. The car was fairly new and the inside was empty of clutter, unlike my own car, which was full of rock CDs in and out of their cases.

  I started the engine and watched the lights on the fuel gauge climb to the three quarters full mark.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the car into first gear and pulled onto the road.

  I drove along the coastal road, glancing out of the window at the sea below for any sign of The Big Easy, but she was nowhere to be seen. I could think about that later. Right now, I had to find a safe place away from the city.

  Being in the car gave me more confidence. As long as I could avoid military checkpoints, I should be able to drive to a remote area and hide while I decided on my next move to get back to Lucy and our boat.

  Despite the fact that the army had taken over the marina, the coastal road was free of any military presence.

  I put my foot down a little and carefully picked up speed. I couldn’t wait to see the back of the city but I had to make sure I didn’t drive into a hidden checkpoint and get caught by soldiers.

  Despite the shitty start to the day, my luck seemed to be changing and I drove out of the city without any problems. As I hit the road that wound between the green, misty mountains and the city was no longer in the rear-view mirror, I realised I had been breathing shallowly, almost holding my breath in anticipation of trouble.

  I felt calmer now. Breathing more deeply, I cracked open the window to let some fresh air into the car.

  I could not relax completely. There could be a military checkpoint anywhere on the road. I watched the road ahead carefully and kept the Astra at a steady 30 miles per hour.

  The road wound inland and the sea disappeared from view, making me feel even more cut off from Lucy and The Big Easy. Trees and mountains blurred past the windows as I drove farther away from the coast. I felt like I was abandoning Lucy but I had to find shelter, a hiding place. Besides, if she was on the boat, she was probably safe whereas I was in a shitload of danger.

  I felt like a fish that had been washed up onshore and would suffocate unless it found its way back to the water. I had never been a fan of the sea before but now it was the only place I felt safe from the hell that had thrust itself upon the world.

  I looked for side roads as I drove, the urge to get off the main road rising in my gut like boiling acid. If I stayed on this road for much longer, I would run into the army. They would put me in a Survivors Camp. Or they would kill me. Either way, I’d be dead. Better a quick bullet in the head than to get locked up like a sardine in a can, waiting for the zombies to arrive.

  After half an hour of slow, tense driving, the mountains were replaced by woods. I saw a large wooden gate on the right and a dirt road that led beyond it into the trees. I pulled over, left the engine running, and got out to take a closer look.

  The gate was held shut by a metal bolt but there were no locks. The road beyond disappeared into the trees. Maybe there was a house up there, a farm, or a herd of zombies. I had no idea. At least I would be off the main road. I slid the bolt back and swung the gate open.

  After driving through, I closed it behind me and replaced the bolt. Getting back in the Astra quickly, I drove along the bumpy, narrow road, constantly checking the rear-view mirror and windows for trouble. The trees crowded close to the sides of the road and I half-expected a horde of the undead to come staggering out in front of me or crash through the trees and thrust their blue-skinned hands through the wi
ndows, clawing me with deadly nails.

  Neither of those things happened. After a few minutes, the road took me out of the trees and through overgrown farmland inhabited by cows. A wooden sign nailed to a fencepost said “Mason’s Farm”.

  The house was ahead, a two-storey stone building that looked deserted. There was a weather-worn wooden barn behind the house but no other buildings that I could see. No neighbours. The fields were bordered by trees and a wire fence on one side and mountains on the other. Remote. Isolated.

  Perfect. If it was empty.

  I stopped by the side of the house and sat in the car with the engine running. I lowered my window all the way and listened. Over the idling engine, all I could hear was birds in the trees and the breeze rustling through the grass. The air smelled of grass and manure and that was just fine.

  I hit the button again and as the window whirred up, I picked up my baseball bat from the passenger seat.

  I turned the engine off, got out, locked the car and pocketed the key. Standing there for a moment in the brightening morning sun, I listened again to my surroundings.

  Nothing to indicate the presence of people or nasties. Seemed like it was just me, the cows, and the birds. Of course there could be a gang of killers waiting inside. They could be hiding behind the front door after seeing my approach along the dirt road.

  Or it could be that when I opened the door, a wall of stench would hit me, followed by shambling undead.

  Either way, I was opening the door. I didn’t have too many options right now and I didn’t want to go back to the main road.

  I walked up to the brown wooden front door and knocked, gripping the bat tightly in my other hand. If there were people inside—living, friendly people—there was no harm in showing them I wasn’t a bandit come to kill them. And I wasn’t giving myself away by knocking; the house overlooked the dirt road and the Astra wasn’t quiet.

  No answer.

  I listened, willing my senses to reach beyond the door into the house beyond but either the place was empty or my listening skills hadn’t taken on superhuman powers.

  Silence.

  The door handle was made of brass, polished and worn from plenty of use over the years. I pulled it down.

  The latch opened with a click and the door swung inwards.

  I took a step back. I hadn’t expected the place to be unlocked.

  A gloomy hallway led into the house. There were pictures on the wall that looked like framed family photographs. The air smelled musty, as if the house had been closed up for a while, but there was no sickening taint of rotting flesh.

  I stepped inside, bat held ready.

  Nothing jumped out at me, no hands reached for me.

  My heart was beating so loudly it felt like it was in my ears and I was sweating and shaking. I closed the front door.

  From one of the framed photos, the Mason family looked down at me with smiles on their faces. Mr. and Mrs. Mason and two blonde girls aged around ten or twelve. The whole family was dressed in their best clothes for what looked like a professional photo session. I wondered how long ago that day was and where the Masons were now? Huddled together in a Survivors Camp or wandering out back infected with the virus?

  I hoped it was the Survivors Camp and not only because it would be easier for me that way; they looked like a nice family. I hoped they’d made it.

  Meanwhile, I was going to use their house for a short time.

  A doorway to the left led to a living room with the usual furnishings: sofa, easy chairs and a TV. There was also a big stone fireplace, which would be useful.

  I tried the light switch. The ceiling light came on.

  Someone—probably the army—was keeping the infrastructure of the country running. I imagined soldiers would be posted at power stations and sewage plants, making sure we had electricity and water even as we became overrun with zombies. At least we would die with the basic amenities.

  I turned off the light and went into the kitchen.

  It was small and well-equipped like any farmhouse kitchen, I supposed. Not that farmhouse kitchens were my specialty subject; before the apocalypse I barely visited my own kitchen, preferring instead to order takeaway. I used my oven to reheat pizza or curry sometimes but that was about the extent of my cooking abilities beyond making toast.

  The thought of food made me hungry. I decided to quickly check the rest of the house then find something to eat. There must be something edible in one of those cupboards.

  The only other room downstairs was a utility room with a washer and dryer.

  I went upstairs, past more family pictures, to the landing. Four doors. All closed.

  I stood still for a moment and listened.

  Nothing.

  The first door was a double bedroom. The next two were the girls’ rooms and the final door led to the bathroom. Toilet, bath, and a small walk-in shower.

  I walked back along the hall, satisfied that the house was empty. The beds were all neatly made. I assumed the Mason family had followed the instructions on the Emergency Broadcast and left here to go to a Survivors Camp. There was no vehicle outside. They probably just packed a few essentials and drove to the nearest checkpoint, trusting their lives to the military and whatever government was running the country now.

  Had Joe and my parents done the same? Handed their lives to the authorities with blind faith?

  I went back downstairs to the kitchen. The cupboards were stocked with tins and dried food, including pasta and rice. There was a small green metal kettle on the gas hob and I found coffee and tea bags. No milk, of course, unless I tried milking one of the cows in the field, which I wasn’t about to attempt, but other than that I could have a good meal here and take some supplies with me when I left.

  I could plan my next move on a full stomach.

  I reached for the kettle and picked it up to fill it.

  I dropped it immediately, stepping back as it clattered to the floor.

  The lid rolled away and steaming hot water spilled out over the floor tiles.

  Hot water.

  The kettle had recently boiled.

  Someone was here.

  Chapter 6

  I crouched low and crept to the window. The house was empty but maybe someone was out there in the barn. They could have hidden there when they heard my car coming up the road. Were they afraid of me or were they waiting to ambush me? Maybe they had already disabled the Astra. Pulled the wires out of the engine or something.

  The barn had a sliding door big enough to drive a tractor through. It was partly open. Beyond the door, there was darkness.

  I wished Lucy were here. She was better at making decisions than I was, able to leap into action when the situation demanded it. Left to my own devices, I was too indecisive. Should I go out to the car, hope they hadn’t touched it, and drive away? Or wait here until whoever was in the barn came out? What if they weren’t in the barn at all and there was some part of the house I had missed?

  I cast a glance over my shoulder at the hallway. I wished I had a key for the front door.

  My legs were aching. I couldn’t stay here, crouched behind the kitchen counter, for much longer.

  The people in the barn—if they were in the barn—showed no intention of coming out. There could be a dozen people in there, all as crazy as the survivors I had encountered at the marina. I should get in the car and get out of here.

  Decision made, I moved as quickly to the front door as I could while keeping low on my aching legs. Standing and shaking my legs to ease the pain, I prepared to open the door and run to the car. I dug the key fob out of my pocket. As soon as I opened the door, I would unlock the car and get into it before the potential killers in the barn knew what was happening.

  I would find another house, one with fewer inhabitants.

  I tried to calm my erratic breathing and counted myself down slowly.

  3…

  I placed my hand on the cool door handle.

  2…
>
  Tightened my grip on the handle and the baseball bat.

  1…

  I let out a low breath.

  Go.

  I pulled the door open and fled outside, fumbling for the “unlock” button on the key fob.

  Something hit me in the stomach, forcing my breath out in an explosive whoosh. I barely had time to see the woman step out from her hiding place beside the door before she lashed at me with a fist. It connected squarely with my face and I saw a sudden shower of bright sparks in my vision.

  I swung the bat blindly, felt her catch hold of it.

  She wrenched it from my grasp and threw it into the grass.

  Unarmed, I raised my fists, only too aware that I had never faced anyone in a fistfight and this was a bad time to start.

  She stood in a fighter’s stance, waiting for me to get closer like a praying mantis waiting for an insect to fly within reach of its spiked forelegs.

  “I don’t want to fight,” I said, holding up my hands.

  “Who the fuck are you?” She remained in her stance like a female Bruce Lee. The fact that she was Chinese added to the illusion. She wore a brown leather jacket over a black T-shirt and blue jeans over a black pair of boots. She was slim and tall with long raven hair and angry brown eyes.

  “My name’s Alex,” I said. “I was just looking for somewhere to hide out for a while. I didn’t know you were here. I’ll leave.” I almost added, “If you’ll let me,” but stopped myself.

  She looked at me closely. “Are you alone? You drove here on your own but do you have friends around here? Hiding in the trees maybe?” She stared at the trees, her eyes searching for movement.

  “No, I’m alone,” I assured her.

  She looked me over. “How have you survived this long?”

  “I’ve been on a boat.”

  She nodded, as if that explained to her how someone like me could still be alive during a zombie apocalypse. She probably thought I had no chance on the mainland.

  She was probably right.

  Relaxing her fighter’s stance, she said, “So what are you doing here? Where’s your boat?”