Dead Rain: A Tale of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Joe Augustyn

  Bronski laughed. He knew Cat’s brassiness was just a pose, but it never failed to amuse him. He turned to Emma. “How about you, Emma? Are you a good swimmer?”

  She nodded, not too convincingly.

  He smiled reassuringly. “Okay then. Here goes nothing.” He put the transmission in low gear and inched forward through the floodwater. The water level rose quickly as they drove. After half a block he could feel the tires losing traction as the undercurrent lifted the vehicle from the roadway.

  “Okay people, listen up. I need you to gather whatever supplies you can carry, in case we need to abandon ship. Which might happen at any moment.”

  Ryan dragged the heavy tactical bag from the floor and slung its strap over his shoulder.

  “Don’t lose that tac bag, kid. You sure you can handle it?”

  “Yeah. It’s not that bad,” Ryan said coolly. But he shifted his leg to prop it up, alleviating the weight of the strap digging into his shoulder.

  Kerri helped Cat sit up in the back compartment and checked her bandaged arm. “You’re doing good, girl. Looks like the bleeding stopped.”

  “Yeah,” Cat purred throatily, “Until we get out in that water.”

  Kerri knew she was right. “Hold on a minute,” she said. Opening her Swiss army knife she cut a narrow strip from the bottom of Cat’s poncho and wrapped it around her bandage. “That ought to help. Just stick with me. No matter what happens.”

  Cat grinned mischievously as she saw the nervous tension Kerri was trying to hide. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she teased.

  Kerri smiled, but inside she was terrified. How much longer could they last against these odds? Even if they managed to evade those psychotic cannibals the storm would probably keep them trapped on the tiny island for days. With the power out, food and fresh water would soon be an issue. They could break into a house or a business to find supplies and wait out the storm, but if the deadly plague spread much further it might be a fruitless vigil. The clock was ticking…

  “Do you know where the state police boathouse is?” Bronski asked Ryan. He was getting anxious, preparing for their next big move. The SUV was already up to its windowsills in water and it was rapidly getting deeper. He was amazed that it had gotten them this far.

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Check the map.” He pointed to the map holder clipped to the dashboard. “It should be marked on there somewhere.”

  Ryan switched on his LED light and studied the map. “There it is. Not far. About a mile south of here. Just keep going straight. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

  Bronski checked the rearview and was unpleasantly surprised to see a handful of ghouls slogging through the floodwater after them. They were slow but obviously persistent, following them from street to street.

  “Christ. Those things don’t give up, do they?”

  Ryan looked back. “I told you, it’s instinct. Eat. Hunt. Survive. They’re on autopilot.”

  Suddenly the SUV’s engine choked and died.

  “Shit.” Bronski tried to start the engine with no success. The starter clicked once then it too was dead. “That’s it, ladies. Game over. Time to put on your water wings.” He grabbed his AR-15 from the seat behind him and said quietly to Ryan, “We have to get moving before those things catch up to us. I’m depending on you to keep it together.”

  He cast a furtive glance at Emma. Ryan nodded, signaling his understanding.

  “Let’s go,” Bronski announced. “Everybody out.”

  Ryan tried to open his door but the water pressure was too strong. And then before he could deal with it, the vehicle rose up and spun like a giant top in the powerful swirling current.

  “Whoa!” exclaimed Bronski. “Everybody hold on! Keep your seatbelts fastened! And keep your faces away from the windows.”

  The SUV spun slowly as it drifted down the street. Ryan looked out the windshield. A floundering corpse floated past, bobbing like a cork in the streaming water. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and float right to the marina,” he said hopefully. But his hopes were cut short as the current carried them just fifty feet before lifting them over the sidewalk and leaving them jammed in a driveway between two houses.

  They sat quietly for a minute, listening to the roar of the water rushing by, waiting to see if the current would free them and carry them away. It didn’t. They were clearly stuck.

  “Okay, people, this is it. End of the line,” said Bronski. “Let’s go. Grab your gear and get out. Everybody. Hurry.” He turned the key and lowered the windows, thankful that the electrical system was still alive. “Go!”

  They crawled out through the windows into the cold rushing water and clung to the sides of the vehicle as Bronski and Kerri helped Cat out of the vehicle. The freezing seawater seemed to bore right through to their bones and the rain pelted their faces like icy buckshot as they collected themselves, preparing to move out on foot.

  Kerri was apprehensive as she saw the forceful current surge down the street, cluttered with dangerous debris, moving as fast as a river. “This is crazy,” she protested. “We can’t fight that current. We’ll drown.”

  “The boardwalk!” Ryan shouted, over the roar of the rushing water. “The boardwalk’s not flooded. If we make it to the boardwalk we can walk all the way across town. We’ll have to cross back through the flood to get to the marina, but we’ll be a lot closer so it’ll be worth it.”

  “Or we could hole up in one of these buildings,” countered Kerri, hoping for a break from the ordeal. “We’ll have food and water and can hang out ‘til the storm passes.”

  Bronski thought about it. It made sense for most of them, but he had an urgent mission to complete. “Not an option for me,” he said. “I need to get back and report what’s happening. But you’re welcome to stay if you want. You’re all free to do what you want. Cat, you want to hole up somewhere with Kerri?”

  “I’d rather die on my feet if it’s all the same to you,” she replied. “Besides, somebody needs to watch your back.”

  Bronski nodded and turned to Ryan. “How far is the boardwalk?”

  “Not far. We need to reach the next cross street. Then it’s just a few short blocks. And the current on the side streets shouldn’t be bad.”

  “Okay, kid, lead the way. Everyone who’s coming stick together. Hold each other’s hand and hold on tight.”

  Cat held her hand out. Emma was the first to take it, not wanting to be left behind. Kerri considered for a moment then locked hands with Cat and Emma. Deciding it was safer to stick with the group.

  Moving in a human chain they plunged into the roiling current. Ryan led the way. The women followed, hands tightly linked—Emma, Kerri, then Cat. Bronski brought up the rear, helping Cat forward as he went, pushing her forward and steadying her in the current. Her wound was still seeping and she was lightheaded from loss of blood, but the frigid water slowed her metabolism which helped slow the bleeding and dulled the pain.

  Their waterlogged clothes slowed their progress, making every footstep a major effort. The current grew stronger when they reached the middle of the street. Whirling crosscurrents pushed and tugged at their heels, making them sway uncertainly on their feet. Their muscles ached and their teeth chattered from the bitter cold.

  Suddenly Emma squealed in terror.

  “Ryan, look out!” Kerri cried.

  Ryan threw himself backwards as a zombie floated toward him, grabbing for him with its pale gray hands, angrily gnashing its teeth. The current swept it past, just missing him by inches.

  Emma tensed and stopped walking. Kerri squeezed her hand reassuringly and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, honey, don’t worry. We didn’t come this far to give up now.”

  “Keep moving!” Bronski ordered, keeping a wary eye out as several more zombies turned onto the street up the block, moving with clumsy determination through the deepening water. One by one they got swept downstream, headed in the group’s direction. “Hurry! Keep moving! Don�
�t stop!”

  The group slogged forward, battling water that was now up to their chests. Bronski kept one hand on Cat’s waist, pushing her forward, and one on his trusty Sig, aimed at the ravenous floaters coming towards them, bobbing on the surface like a pod of comatose dolphins. One of the corpses snapped out of its lethargy as it got close, suddenly rearing up, trying to fight through the current to get at the human feast just a few feet away. Bronski shot it in the head—it flopped back into the drink and floated away.

  Emma shrieked and started crying hysterically, panicked by the deafening gunshot and the sight of more flailing cadavers swirling their way.

  Bronski emptied his pistol, picking the ghouls off in quick succession as they arrived, then finally paused to slap a fresh mag in. “Keep moving! Don’t stop! Get to the other side of the street! Hurry!”

  Exhausted by the powerful current but alarmed as they saw another wave of zombies floating their way, the group plunged forward. Gasping and wheezing and dripping with seawater they finally made it to the sidewalk and pressed up against the side of a building, clinging to any handhold they could find. They paused there to catch their breaths, relieved to be free from the brunt of the rushing water. The current still tugged at them but was not quite as strong.

  Bronski fought his way alone through the current, picking off more floaters on the way. His gun was half-empty by the time he joined the others.

  “Come on,” Ryan urged the group on. “We’re almost there.” He pointed to the cross street, just twenty feet ahead. “It’ll be easier once we round that corner.”

  Clinging to drainpipes and railings and chinks between bricks they dragged themselves forward through the freezing water, desperate to turn the corner and finally be free from the monstrous current.

  44

  Sheriff Leeds turned onto the flooded street in his SUV. A devilish flash of lightning revealed his prey two blocks away, just as they reached the cross street. Quickly assessing the flow of the current and knowing that his vehicle would likely soon die like theirs did, he waited until the last of the group turned the corner out of sight, then he stepped on the gas to get his momentum up and drove into the intersection.

  His heavier SUV with its bigger tires bullied through the water. It crossed the street and went almost another full block before it died, choking on a flooded exhaust system.

  Leeds forced his door open—just a crack at first, cursing the frigid water pouring in—then wider as the pressure equalized. Grabbing his assault rifle and tactical bag he slid out into the water. The heavy gear helped him keep his footing as he continued the pursuit on foot, slogging through the side street’s less turbulent current. Based on where he last spotted the troopers and their comrades, he figured he was exactly one block north of them, moving on a parallel track. Less exhausted than he knew they must be from their trek through the heavier current, he stepped up his pace, determined to reach the boardwalk first and take up a stealthy position.

  There were a few Resurrecteds struggling through the water around him and a swarm of latecomers approaching in the distance, but most got sucked into the fierce rushing waters as they tried to cross the main street and got swept away downstream.

  Leeds sloshed across the next intersection and paused to catch his breath on the steps of a porch, winded from his short stint fighting the current. I’m getting too old for this crap, he chided himself. Too old and too fat.

  A muscular zombie lurched toward him from the flooded street but he used his rifle butt to shove it away, rather than firing a shot that would have alerted the troopers that he was hot on their trail. Losing its balance the ghoul tumbled back into the drink and floated away, fruitlessly thrashing its limbs.

  A minute later Leeds reached the boardwalk. He staggered up the wide wooden ramp and sank down beside a bench to catch his breath. Relieved to be out of the floodwater and satisfied that he couldn’t be seen by his quarry when they arrived, he sat back and took measured breaths to calm his laboring pulse. The crashing of waves on the shore a hundred yards away was like the unending roar of some monstrous machine. The rain stung like a cat-o’-nine-tails on the elevated boardwalk, blown sideways by the savage winds coming in off the ocean.

  Leeds looked around to make sure there were no surprises lurking nearby, then focused his attention down the boardwalk. He’d beaten the group to the high ground, but it wasn’t long before Ryan appeared, traipsing up the next ramp a block away, followed by the accursed girl and the others.

  Jagged webs of lightning streaked across the sky, lighting the night up brighter than daylight. Leeds crouched low behind the side of the bench and propped his rifle on the wooden seat, studying the group through his scope, getting his first good look at them.

  One by one they appeared and collapsed, slumping onto a bench or against the boardwalk’s metal railing. They were obviously as exhausted as he was by the rigorous trek through the flood, huddling quietly under their hoods or raingear. More importantly, they were oblivious to his presence, so he stayed low, determined to maintain the element of surprise.

  He found the side of Bronski’s head in the crosshairs of his riflescope and thought about squeezing off a shot. He could easily take down the trooper at this range with his high-powered rifle and it would be a keystone kill. His female partner was already wounded, and he knew she was slowing the group down. The incessant thunder of the storm would obscure his position, covering the sound of the shot.

  He decided it wasn’t worth the risk. If he took out the trooper now, the others would panic and scatter. He might get most of them before they realized what was happening and scrambled to cover, but he couldn’t take a chance on even one of them escaping. By now the girl must have told them everything. There was no way he could explain the Resurrection to outsiders. The bleeding heart liberals running the state and the short-sighted Federal bureaucrats wouldn’t appreciate the special mission he’d devoted his life to. The Gentiles wouldn’t respect his religion or honor the time-honored traditions of his ancestors. He’d be doomed, and his family and church would be disgraced.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

  He had God on his side. He knew that in his heart. Together they had tended to a miracle of life after death and together they would clean up this mess. After two centuries of duty, what was one more night? Or a week? All those human sacrifices throughout the decades couldn’t have been made in vain. I just have to clean up a few loose ends. Then things will be right again. God will see me through this… one step at a time.

  He found Emma’s face in his riflescope. There’s the little bitch, the one who started this.

  His finger stroked the trigger anxiously… then froze. For now he had to be patient. To get his targets in a position to get them all.

  They’ll have to move back across the island to get to the station. It’ll be easy to pick them off then. When they’re fighting the current. Struggling to keep their heads above water.

  45

  Bronski plopped down next to Cat on a bench. The rain stung their faces but felt good on their backs, like magic fingers massaging them through their plastic ponchos. “How you holding up, kitten?”

  “I won’t lie, Nick, I’ve felt better. I don’t want to slow you down. You’ve lost enough time as it is. You have to get back to headquarters. They need to know about this. Whatever the hell it is.”

  “Forget that. We don’t have much farther to go. Just let me know when you need to take a break. We can go a little easier now that we’re safe up here on the boardwalk. And you’ll be able to rest once we get to the station.”

  “Shit! We have company!” shouted Ryan, his voice pitched with anxiety. They turned to see him gazing down the ramp they just came up.

  “Looks like I spoke too soon,” Bronski said, and he hurried over to see what the boy was crowing about.

  Several zombies were slogging through the water toward the boardwalk. A few were already trudging up the ramp.r />
  “Time to go!” snapped Bronski, turning to Ryan. “Get moving. Go on, kid, get them out of here. Help Cat, she’s weak. I’ll try to slow them down.”

  Ryan ran over to Emma. “Come on, Emma,” he gently urged. “We have to move.”

  Emma hesitated, tired and drenched and stiff from the unrelenting rain. But when Bronski started firing at the zombies with his AR-15 she leaped to her feet. “What’s happening?!”

  “It’s okay, let’s go,” said Ryan calmly. “We’ll be safe if we keep moving.” Kerri joined him and together they helped Cat to her feet and supported her between them. Emma grabbed his free hand and they all started hiking down the boardwalk, moving as fast as Cat could hobble. The wind and the rain lashed them without mercy. Ryan ignored the discomfort, focusing his attention on Emma’s hand in his. It was soft and warm in contrast to the bitter weather.

  Bronski remained in position, picking off the cadavers as they staggered up the ramp. He was a crack shot, and quickly figured out that head shots were key. Soon there was a pile of twice dead bodies blocking the bottom of the ramp, flopped half in the floodwater and half on top of each other. But Bronski realized his shots were drawing more of the walking dead. With each flash of lightning he saw more and more in the flooded streets below, clawing through the water on their way to the boardwalk.

  It was time to cut and run.

  ***

  Sheriff Leeds took aim through his riflescope, drawing a bead on the back of Bronski’s head as he turned and jogged off to catch up to his companions. But again he lowered his gun. Realizing that he needed to maintain his patience and not scatter the group with a premature shot.

  The right time would come. And it would come soon.

  46

  Bronski caught up to the group as they passed the next entrance ramp. He hurried to Cat’s side to check on her. He found her pale and dizzy from loss of blood, but bravely struggling on, supported by Kerri and Ryan. “Cat. How are you holding up?”