Dead Rain: A Tale of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Joe Augustyn

  “Depends on how much farther we have to go.”

  “Okay. Just hang on a little longer. We’ll rest soon.” He turned to Ryan. “How much farther?”

  “Not far. Just a few more blocks. Then we have to cut back across the island to the marina. Back through the flooded streets.”

  They exchanged knowing looks. Both knew that Cat would be a liability on that journey. As would Emma.

  Bronski took the lead, hoping to set a quicker pace. He knew Cat’s stubborn pride would impel her to keep up with him. He hated to push her but hoped if he did that she’d rally on will power alone. It worked for a minute… then she stumbled and sank to her knees.

  “Hold up!” Kerri called.

  Bronski turned and was dismayed to find Cat sitting cross-legged on the boardwalk, head hung faintly. He rushed to her side and took a knee, ashamed for pushing her too hard.

  “Jesus, Cat. We have to get you someplace safe.”

  “No. You go. You have to go get help.”

  “I’ll go. But not until I know you’re someplace safe. And then I’ll be back for you before you have a chance to miss m—”

  A booming gunshot cut him off. He turned to see Ryan firing Hayes’ shotgun—then saw what he was shooting at.

  A zombie lay sprawled in a bloody heap on the boardwalk just twenty feet behind them, and two more were staggering up from the entry ramp behind it. Ryan dispatched them with two quick shots, pumping the semi-automatic like a pro.

  “Come on, people, move it!” Bronski shouted, waving Ryan over. “Sorry, Cat, but we have to go.” Slinging his rifle over one shoulder he scooped her up and threw her over the other one in a fireman’s carry.

  Ryan kept pumping the shotgun, blowing away zombies as they reached the top of the ramp. It made him feel good, taking control and wielding power.

  “Ryan, come on!” Bronski called. “Save your rounds. You’re only drawing more of them.”

  ***

  Crouched behind a trash receptacle a block away, Leeds observed the scene with mixed emotions. On one hand, watching the Resurrecteds slog doggedly through the deep rushing floodwaters and make it up the ramp to the boardwalk gave him hope that they’d overtake the refugees and finish them off. But they also created a lethal barrier, separating him from his quarry. Making it more difficult to finish the job himself.

  Reaching back for his canvas tac bag he glanced up and nearly had a heart attack as he discovered a handful of hungry ghouls on the boardwalk behind him, just yards away. He snatched up the bag and hurried away—but stopped as he saw a half-dozen corpses ahead on the boardwalk and more stumbling up the ramp.

  Leeds turned back to assess the situation. The zombies behind him were steadily shambling towards him. The group ahead were focused on the fleeing troopers and their companions, and hadn’t yet noticed him. But they certainly would if he tried to slip past them. It was clear that the mass of zombies from the overpass had followed them. The boardwalk would soon be overrun.

  His mind raced, desperately weighing his options. He could either break into one of the shuttered storefronts lining one side of the boardwalk or find some way to continue his deadly pursuit. He chose the latter. I can’t rely on the dead to finish those troopers off.

  He hustled to the ocean-side railing and looked down. A flicker of lightning revealed the beach below. The storm-tossed Atlantic had encroached on the beach, with foaming breakers rolling beyond the normal shoreline, but a wide strip of sand along the boardwalk remained unflooded. It appeared to be uninhabited. And even if the zombies followed him down, Leeds knew enough about them to know they’d have a hard time walking on the rain-soaked sand.

  He dropped his rifle and bag over the railing, then climbed over and lowered himself down. The drop to the beach knocked the air from his lungs, but the sand cushioned his fall. Nervous doubts made him second guess his decision as he stared into the dark maw under the boardwalk. He knew it was sealed by a chain-link fence on the other side, but couldn’t stop imagining an army of horrors lurking in the utter darkness.

  Suppressing a shiver he retrieved his gear and hurried on his way. The waterlogged beach sucked at his feet, making each step a chore. He huffed and puffed under the weight of his gear and cursed his paunchy belly. The wind whipped him furiously, pelting him with rain and seawater and stinging bits of sand.

  Lightning lit the beach like a giant flashcube. Leeds’ disciplined lawman’s eyes scanned the area ahead in the fleeting shimmer of light, taking a mental snapshot. He was relieved to find himself alone but he didn’t feel totally safe. As he trudged past the thick wooden pylons that held up the boardwalk he kept an eye peeled for movement in the black void beyond. He was tempted to move away, closer to the water’s edge, but that would make him more visible to the zombies on the boardwalk. They might look down and spot him and would soon be lumbering down one of the sets of stairs that led down to the beach every hundred yards or so.

  A soft thunking footstep sent a shiver up his spine. He looked up to see a zombie limping along near the railing above. Before it caught sight of him he ducked beneath the boardwalk, doing his best to move quietly—but his rifle clipped a pylon as he hurried past it.

  The footsteps of the zombie stopped, directly above him.

  Leeds cursed silently. His heart thumped in his chest, so loud he was sure it must sound like a regimental drum. Sweat beaded on his forehead, despite the chilly air. Had the wandering corpse heard the thunk of his gun as it hit the rough-hewn wood? Had it seen him before he ducked under cover? Could it smell him… or otherwise be aware of his presence?

  He thought of his many years serving the dead and regretted not spending more time studying their habits. He had watched them feed many times, in the beginning. But he never really got used to it and despite his zealous support of the practice, he found it easier to bear if he simply set up the feeding and came back later to eliminate the leftovers. One of the most crucial aspects of the duty was preventing the delivered meals from joining the ranks of the undead. It was one thing to keep your beloved ancestors alive—if that’s what they were—but it would have been madness to let the outsiders resurrect. Killing—no, sacrificing—to feed your loved ones was acceptable in the eyes of the Lord. But there was no point in sustaining the criminal scum—the damned. Now, thanks to the stupid girl and that vintage car, there was no control over the process, no longer any containment. Every sort of riffraff and unworthy Gentile was mingled in with his precious ancestors.

  Leeds’ disordered reverie was broken as the heavy-footed zombie clomped away, drawn to follow the herd moving down the boardwalk. He took a calming breath, then shuddered as he gazed into the impenetrable darkness behind him. He pulled out his flashlight but thought twice about using it—the Resurrected might see the light through the slats of the boardwalk and come to investigate.

  Stepping back into the rain he hurried away.

  47

  Bronski’s group moved swiftly down the boardwalk—but even as the gap between them and the pursuing zombies grew, they were brought up short by the appearance of yet another bunch stumbling onto the boardwalk from the next entry ramp ahead.

  Bronski quickly assessed their options. To their right was a row of shuttered businesses. T-shirt shop. Pizza joint. Frozen custard stand. Nothing in there worth the risk of getting trapped inside.

  To their left was a giant fun pier—a sprawling maze of ticket booths, popcorn stands, carnival games and amusement rides. The tracks of a monstrous roller coaster ran along one side. A Ferris wheel towered over teacups and bumper cars and a colorfully painted funhouse. All closed up for the winter.

  “This way. Hurry!” Carrying Cat he led the way onto the pier. Kerri followed, pulling Emma by the hand, trailed by Ryan, who moved warily, protecting their backs with the shotgun. As they reached the center of the pier, Bronski stopped to look around for a safe haven. He quickly dismissed the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster and the elegant carousel. They needed protecti
on from the rain as well as from the psychotic horde, in a structure big enough to hold them all comfortably.

  His eyes settled on the funhouse. The huge garish sign on the overhang said Devil’s Den. Beneath it stood a mechanical fiberglass dummy—a Luciferian ringmaster with a big mocking grin on his blood red face.

  “This way! Hurry!” Bronski moved quickly to the entrance, which was sealed for the off-season by a pair of plywood panels. He gently lowered Cat to her feet, leaning her against the wall. She was doing her best to be stoic, but the pain on her face was evident.

  “Hang in there, Cat,” he assured her. “You’ll be safe in here until I bring back help.”

  Pulling a flat steel pry-bar from his tac bag he went to work, wrenching the padlocked latches from the plywood sheets. The wood splintered and the panels swung open, revealing a black swinging door with hellish red flames painted on it.

  “Hurry!” Bronski urged the group, pushing the gaudy door open. “We have to get inside before they see us.” He and Kerri helped Cat through the doorway.

  Emma hesitated, wary of the darkness inside. Ryan wrapped an arm around her and forcefully guided her in. “Come on. We’ll be safe in here.”

  Bronski went back to close the plywood panels—but the first wave of walking dead had already wandered into view. He ducked back inside, discreetly pulling the swinging door shut.

  Switching on his flashlight he scanned the entry hall for a stray piece of lumber or something big and heavy to block the door. Unfortunately there was nothing he could use, short of breaking something loose which would create a lot of noise. His only hope now was that the zombies would shuffle past their hideout, lose interest in searching the pier, and make their way back to the boardwalk.

  At least we made it in out of sight in time, he thought. And out of that damned rain. Be thankful for small blessings.

  He turned the flashlight on his companions, who had stopped a few feet further down the black-walled hallway, too nervous to proceed any deeper into the darkness. Bronski signaled them to stay quiet, then motioned for them to move further into the structure. They needed to find a safe nook, a place for Cat to rest and recuperate while he ventured out to fetch the cavalry.

  Kerri switched on her flashlight. They all locked hands in a daisy chain and she led them slowly into the bowels of the structure. Rain hammered a hollow rhythm on the roof. The black-painted walls and artfully integrated panels of chicken wire created disorienting illusions of depth and space.

  Monstrous mannequins glared silently from their perches… vampires and ghouls and witches and an axe-wielding executioner, all convincingly real in the sinister shadows.

  But the real monsters lurked outside. They wandered in circles in the rain, moving from one sleeping thrill ride to the next, searching the darkness, sniffing the damp air—confused by the vague scent of prey that was nowhere to be found.

  48

  Sheriff Leeds trudged wearily to the set of rough plank steps leading back up to the boardwalk. It was the last set on that stretch of beach—which ended just thirty feet ahead, blocked off by a chain-link fence that sealed the towering supports of a huge amusement pier.

  He sank down on the steps to catch his breath, but was forced to his feet by the clomping of footsteps on the boardwalk above. Once again he took refuge in the darkness under the boardwalk, and carefully considered his next move. If he hoped to have any chance of catching his prey he would have to return to the boardwalk, and soon. He’d already lost sight of them, but he knew they couldn’t be too far ahead.

  A sliver of light caught his eye, flashing through the underside of the nearby fun pier. At first he thought it was distant lightning, but then he noticed it was coming from beneath a building on the near side of the pier. With all the power in the area knocked out by the storm, he knew it could only be the beam of a flashlight.

  He hurried to the chain-link fence that sealed off the forest of pier supports. Gazing up at the bottom of the pier he saw more twinkles of light flashing across the structure, slipping through the cracks between the planks of the boardwalk.

  He studied the shifting patterns of light and quickly deduced he’d found his prey. It was clear they’d taken refuge inside a dark building and were guiding their way across the floor with their flashlights. He took a few steps back and looked up at the building, trying to identify it. A flash of lightning revealed the side of the funhouse, painted with giant monster faces.

  He thought about his chances of making it past the Resurrecteds on the boardwalk. They were monumentally slim—impossible without firing several gunshots. That won’t do. I’d lose the element of surprise.

  Slinging his rifle and his tac bag over his shoulder, he grabbed hold of the chain-link fence and started to climb. It would take him several minutes to reach the pier, but his targets would undoubtedly still be there, cornered inside their plywood sanctuary. He smiled in anticipation as he pulled himself higher, moving slowly but steadily, eagerly formulating a plan.

  His son Henry had worked on the pier for two summer seasons, taking tickets and helping clean up and doing simple maintenance. One hot summer day he’d given the family a tour, so Leeds was very familiar with the pier… and the funhouse in particular. He knew something about it that the troopers probably didn’t.

  Something he could use to his advantage.

  49

  “Ow! Shit,” Ryan cursed under his breath. He had ventured ahead of the group, a bit too impatient to be a hero. Kerri giggled as she realized what had happened. So did Emma, the first positive sign that she wasn’t a total wreck.

  Ryan rubbed his aching nose as he returned to join the group.

  “Mirror maze,” he said flatly.

  Bronski stepped up to check it out. He shined his light in, and the beam was immediately reflected and amplified by a hundred mirrors. Quickly he switched off his light and the maze fell back into darkness. “End of the road,” he said quietly. “It’s too risky to go any further in the dark. Somebody might get hurt in there. And if we use our lights they might show through a window we don’t know about or cracks in the outside walls. These places are roughly constructed.”

  “But we’ll be safer in there,” Kerri protested. “The deeper we go, the better.”

  “It’s not worth the chance,” Bronski stood firm. “We can’t risk breaking a panel of glass. Even if no one got hurt, the noise would draw those things in here. You’re safer out here.”

  He switched his flashlight back on and quickly scanned the black-walled corridor. A mock electric chair stood in an alcove, with a Charles Manson dummy strapped on it.

  Bronski unstrapped the dummy and tossed it aside, then helped Cat over and sat her on the hard wooden chair. She sank back, weak and groggy, her mind shutting down from the pain.

  “Cat, listen. Stay with me.”

  She nodded unconvincingly. “I’m good.”

  Bronski swallowed hard. It pained him to see his high-spirited partner in such a vulnerable state. “Cat, please, pay attention. I need to go for help. I’m going to leave you here but I’ll be back with a rescue team as fast as I can. If I can’t find a working phone or radio I’ll steal a boat or I’ll swim if I have to, but I swear I’ll get help and get you out of here safe and sound. But I need you to hold it together. It might take me awhile. You have to hang on.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she replied wanly. “Just warn the world what’s happening before it’s too late.”

  Ryan came over, edgy and wired. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan is, I’m going to the marina to look for help,” said Bronski.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, it’s going to be dangerous enough—”

  “Don’t tell me how dangerous it is. Those things killed my mother. And my little brother.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan. But I have to—”

  “I’m your best chance to find that marina—and find it fast. It’s not about me or you. It’s about the
m. The world has to be alerted.”

  “Alright, kid. But don’t make me regret it. I don’t want any unnecessary heroics out there. It’s not a hunting party. We’re going to have to move fast and stay focused on our mission. If we do it right we’ll get there without firing a single shot.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Okay then. Load your weapons—just in case. And say your farewells. We leave in two minutes.”

  Bronski turned and bumped into Kerri, who was waiting right behind him.

  “I’m going too,” she said softly.

  “No, you’re not, Kerri. Cat’s in no condition to come with us and we can’t take that girl along either. She’s a mess. She’ll get us all killed. I need someone I can count on to stay here and watch over them. Someone I can trust not to desert them. And to hold them together.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I know you can. And I know you will.” He looked over at Cat, who was coiled in a ball of pain. “Do you have something you can give her?”

  Kerri nodded.

  “Knock her out if you have to. You should be safe in here. If those things knew we were in here they’d be trying to get in by now.” He pulled a few gun magazines and a box of ammo from his tac bag and slipped them into his pocket, then handed the bag to Kerri. “There’s 9mm ammo in the bag. It’ll work in Cat’s gun and in that Glock you’re packing. There’s some protein bars too. Save them until you’re all desperately hungry, then ration them carefully. I’ll be back as fast as I can with help but realistically I’m thinking at least half a day to gather the troops and fight our way back here.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Kerri said calmly. “Just watch your back out there. It’s more important that you sound the alarm.”