Rain

by Shaun Harbinger

  “Where do you think the U.N. are going to take the survivors?” she said as we walked beneath the cliffs.

  “I don’t know. America maybe. We don’t know which countries have been affected and which ones are virus-free. If the U.S. closed down their borders as soon as they heard about the outbreak in India and Britain, it’s possible they could be uncontaminated. Or maybe somewhere in Europe like France or Spain.”

  “If those places are clean, we could just sail there ourselves on the boat,” she said.

  “We could but if the U.N. has sanctioned a rescue operation, I would say only their ships would be allowed to dock anywhere. A small boat trying to do the same would probably get shot out of the water by the coastguard of whatever country it tried to dock in. If some countries are uninfected, they’ll be doing everything in their power to stay that way.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “So unless we get on board one of the U.N. ships, we’re stuck.” The problem with getting onto one of the rescue ships, we knew, was that we hadn’t been part of the military ‘cleansing’ operation. We hadn’t been certified virus-free in the Survivors Camps. We were going to have to try and sneak on board a U.N. ship.

  “Do you really think they’ll nuke Britain?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know. The soldier said that was just a rumour but it makes sense. Once they’ve saved everyone they’re going to save, why not just nuke the rest? They’re dead anyway. The survivors still left in the country won’t last all that long.”

  “It seems extreme. The nuclear fallout will cause problems to the uninfected countries as well as Britain.”

  “They’re trying to eradicate the virus from the planet. They’ll have to pay a price to do that. They’re probably willing to pay that price if it means future generations can live in a world without the zombie virus.”

  It did seem extreme but the countries that were zombie-free wanted to remain that way. If that meant a final solution involving nuclear warheads, then so be it. The future of the world was at stake here. Nobody cared about the individuals fighting to survive the Armageddon on a day by day basis. The politicians and the military would look at this situation on a worldwide scale. Even killing a million innocent citizens could be justified if it meant the survival of the planet.

  Mike and Elena stopped up ahead. Lying on the sand was an upturned rowboat, its mooring rope tied around a large rock to keep it from drifting out to sea. Mike flipped it over and stood by it, grinning. “We can get out of here, man.”

  The little boat looked like it was used for fishing. Nets and lobster traps lay in the sand next to where it was tied. The oars were inside, attached by hooks to the wooden slats.

  This little wooden craft had once been someone’s livelihood. That person was probably dead now but his boat was going to give us a slim chance to live.

  * * *

  We reached The Big Easy half an hour later, approaching the large yacht from the stern. Mike was on the oars. Elena sat at the back of the rowboat while Lucy and I sat at the front. Lucy had the gun ready in her hand in case the boat was occupied.

  We weren’t going to kill anyone on board if they were living people. In that case, we would leave them be and row away to find another boat. If the occupants of The Big Easy were undead, though, we needed to be prepared.

  Mike guided to rowboat to the rear of the yacht where a metal-runged ladder was affixed. I grabbed the cold metal to hold us steady while Lucy and Mike climbed up to the deck. I waited nervously, expecting to hear a gunshot or a scream but everything was quiet. Mike’s head appeared, a grin on his face.

  “It’s all clear.”

  Elena climbed up and I followed after throwing up the rowboat’s mooring line for Mike to tie it to a cleat on the yacht’s stern.

  The Big Easy was large enough to live on. We stood on the aft deck that had a small cockpit and cushioned seats. A wooden door opened into a living area, which contained a small kitchen complete with refrigerator and a dining table. A door to the bow opened onto a sunbathing deck.

  “The bedrooms and toilet are below,” Mike said. “Everything we need.”

  I went back outside to the cockpit and looked at the wheel and throttle. “We have a problem,” I said.

  Mike poked his head through the door. “What is it, man?”

  “No keys to start the engine.”

  He pointed up a ladder. “The bridge is up there. I’m betting there’s a spare pair of keys hidden away somewhere.” He climbed the ladder and a few minutes later I heard the engine turn over then kick into life. Mike shouted down, “Got it!”

  I climbed up to the bridge. Mike was inspecting the dials and gauges on the instrument panel. “Looks like this boat was used for cruising and fishing. There’s a FishFinder on here. And there’s fishing gear in the hold. We can fish for our food, man.”

  It sounded perfect. That was what worried me. My motto had always been that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

  “How are we for fuel?”

  He looked at the gauges. “Low. Very low.”

  My motto proved itself correct yet again.

  I looked out through the window and along the coast. What I was about to suggest filled me with dread. “I suppose we’ll have to go to the marina and fill the tank.”

  He looked at me and the smile that had been on his face a second ago vanished. “I suppose we will.”

  “I don’t like the idea any more than you do,” I said, “but we need the fuel. Otherwise we’re stuck here floating near the shore. We’d be much safer if we sailed out into deeper waters.”

  He nodded, looking through the rain-streaked window at the shoreline. We were too visible here. The army could see us easily, might even be able to hit us with mortars fired from the cliffs. We weren’t out of danger yet. But with a single run to the marina, we could set ourselves up for a long time, at least for as long as we had to wait for the U.N. rescue ships to arrive. There would be stores there. A moment of risk now would take away such risk in the near future. Once we were refuelled and stocked with supplies, we could sail out into open water.

  We had nothing to lose. If we arrived at the marina and found it overrun with zombies, we could move on and come back later. From The Big Easy, we could check the place out from the safety of the sea.

  Mike found a map of the coastline and located the marina. While he learned the yacht controls, I went back down to the aft deck and made sure the rowboat was securely tied. A clanking, winding sound told me Mike had found the controls to pull up the anchor. The engine revved a little and we moved forward slowly, our nose pointing up along the shoreline.

  As we made our way past the beach, I unhooked a hand axe from where it hung next to a fire extinguisher and I swung it in the air a few times, as if attacking an imaginary opponent.

  I wanted to be ready for whatever awaited us at the marina.

  fourteen

  When the city of Swansea appeared off the bow, I squinted against the falling rain at the buildings and streets visible from the sea. Mike had taken us out into deeper waters as a precaution and the rain made it harder to see anything clearly, but the city looked deathly quiet.

  Something wasn’t right. The city shouldn’t be like this. I had expected to see zombies lumbering around the streets. The city should be full of the hungry groans of the undead.

  This unearthly silence chilled me to the bone.

  Mike shouted down from the bridge. “You see that, man? It’s too good to be true.”

  Those were my thoughts, exactly. I remembered the zombies at the farmhouse and how they had waited silently on the porch until we came out of the house. I didn’t think they had the reasoning power to set such a trap but now, as I looked at the ghostly city in the rain, I wondered if we were heading straight into an ambush.

  The rain bothered me. I went through the door into the living room.

  The girls were in the kitchen, sorting through the cupboards and mak
ing a list of what food we had and what we needed. Because this boat was used for long trips, the cupboard contained long life products, mainly in cans, so it was perfect for our needs.

  I wiped rainwater from my face and peered through the window at the tall buildings and empty coastline. I still had the axe gripped in my right hand.

  “What’s up, Alex?” Lucy asked from the counter where she and Elena had piled up packets of rice and cans of beans.

  “It’s just so quiet. Where are all the people who lived here? Where are all the zombies?”

  “He’s complaining because there aren’t zombies?” Elena asked, rolling her eyes. “You really are weird, Alex.”

  Weird or not, I still couldn’t shake my feeling of unease.

  A speaker set into the wall crackled and Mike’s voice came out of it. “Hey, can you guys hear me? I can see the marina.”

  I went out and up the ladder to the bridge.

  Mike was bringing us in closer to the shore. Ahead, the twin jetties of the marina jutted out into the sea. There were boats everywhere. Most were moored in the slips but some floated freely on the tide. “I don’t get it, man,” Mike said. “Why didn’t everybody just take the boats when they knew about the zombies?”

  “The virus spread fast. By the time people knew what was happening, the army was probably rounding them up for the Survivors Camps.”

  There were no people on the jetties, no sign of life. No sign of the undead.

  Mike brought us around so we faced the docks. There were two fuel pumps, one at either side of the marina. We sailed towards the closest one and I jumped off The Big Easy onto the jetty, mooring rope in hand. Before I tied the boat to one of the steel cleats, I listened to the marina. All I could hear was rain bouncing off the boats and splashing into the water. I tied a fast and loose knot in case we had to leave here quickly.

  Mike jumped up onto the dock and inspected the pump. “Looks like someone left it switched on. So at least some people got away on boats.”

  I looked towards the marine supply shop on shore. It looked quiet enough. “How long will it take to fill the tank?” I asked Mike.

  “About ten minutes.”

  Climbing back onto The Big Easy, I grabbed the gun from where Lucy had left it on the dining table and headed back outside.

  “Where you going?” Lucy asked.

  “There’s a store here. I’m going to check it out.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  “No, it looks deserted.”

  Elena looked up from the piles of food they had arranged across every available kitchen surface. “We need sugar if they have any.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I grabbed the binoculars, climbed back out onto the dock and looked towards the marine supply store through the magnifying lenses. A glass door gave me a view into the shop. A second door on the far side of the building led to the street beyond. That didn’t make me happy. There were two ways into the shop, which meant zombies could come in off the street. I couldn’t see that street from where I stood so I decided to check everything out and lock the street door, if it wasn’t already locked, before I salvaged supplies from the store.

  With the gun in one hand and the axe in the other, I walked along the wooden dock.

  A large poster inside the shop window had a picture of a man and woman drinking champagne on the back of a luxury yacht with the slogan ‘Sail To Your Destiny’. The world that poster belonged to no longer existed.

  I glanced into each moored boat as I passed, looking for movement inside. Nothing. The boats sat silently waiting for owners who would never return. For most of these craft, this was the end of the line. Unless other survivors found them, they would float here until they rotted into the sea.

  I reached the shop door and looked through the glass. It was dark inside but I could make out racks of clothing, fishing gear, a bookshelf crammed with books, and shelves of food. No movement. No sounds from within.

  I slid the axe into the leg pocket of my cargo pants and put my hand on the cold, wet metal door handle. Holding my breath, I gently pulled the door open. Nothing jumped out at me. No yellow eyes appeared in the shadows. I sniffed the air inside. No rank decaying meat smell assaulted my nostrils.

  I slipped inside.

  Stood by the half open door.

  Listened.

  The gun felt slippery in my hand.

  No sound except the rain outside and the whirr of the pump at the end of the dock as Mike refuelled our boat.

  I took two steps into the shop, my wet boots squeaking on the floor.

  The clothing racks cast deep shadows over some areas of the room. I wished I could see if anything was hiding in those shadows.

  The door and windows looking out onto the street showed me a deserted road lined with more shops. There was nobody out there. I crossed the room quickly, arcing the gun in front of me in case anything jumped out at me. The door to the street was unlocked and without a key I had no way of changing that situation. I went to the counter where a display of GPS units in a glass case stared at me with blank screens. Hopping over the counter, I looked for a light switch. When I found it on the wall behind the cash register, I debated whether I should use it.

  First of all, I didn’t even know if there was electricity still running to the shop. Secondly, switching on the lights would give away my position to anyone out there in the street. Just because I couldn’t see anybody didn’t mean there wasn’t someone out there somewhere. That thought chilled me.

  Leaving the switch alone, I went back into the main part of the store and found a bunch of small metal shopping carts lined up near the door. Wheeling one over to the clothing racks, I filled it with T-shirts, sweaters, hoodies and cargo pants. I grabbed waterproof jackets from a rack near the wall and put them into the cart as well. When I had raided most of the men’s and women’s clothing section, leaving behind only the children’s clothing, I positioned the full cart near the door to the docks.

  Taking a second cart, I loaded it with wetsuits, diving masks and snorkels. If we were going to spend a long time at sea, these things would be useful. I read a zombie novel once in which the main character used a wetsuit as protection against bites and scratches. No reason why it wouldn’t work. I added swimming trunks and bathing suits to the cart and picked up some pairs of sunglasses.

  Pushing the cart to the back of the shop, I found a food shelf and loaded up with pots of dehydrated noodles and three bags of the sugar Elena had requested. I found coils of strong thick marine rope and looped one over my shoulder. I slung a large pair of binoculars around my neck. They looked more powerful than Mike’s.

  A closed glass cabinet in the fishing section caught my eye and I went over to look at the spear-guns displayed inside. The cabinet was locked.

  Using the handle of a fishing rod, I smashed the glass and reached inside, taking the six guns and all the spears in there.

  The cart was full and I was sure I had salvaged everything useful from the store. I wheeled it over to the cart of clothing and left it there. I thought of checking to see if any of the nearby stores on the street held any treasures. How far did I dare push my luck? The safety of the marine shop and my two carts of plunder had made me overconfident.

  I looked out at the street. Rain lashed down from dark clouds. That was going to affect my vision, making a trip across the road even more dangerous. There was no point looking out for zombies if I was blinking rain out of my eyes every two seconds.

  Taking a diving mask from the display, I put it on and pulled up the hood of my jacket. With the mask on, I could keep my eyes open. Pulling up my scarf to cover my lower face, I pushed the door open and stepped out onto the street, gun in hand.

  The rain bounced off my hood and the mask but at least I could see. I looked along the street in both directions.

  Nothing.

  Fifty feet away, I saw the open doorway of a supermarket. It looked like the door had been smashed. The pl
ace had probably already been looted but it was worth a look.

  I strode across the street quickly.

  As I approached the broken door, I lifted the gun and stared into the darkness of the supermarket.

  What I saw made me gasp and step back.

  Too quickly.

  I stumbled and fell, scrambling to regain my feet before the dozens of zombies I had just seen came pouring out of that supermarket like a tidal wave of rotting flesh.

  I ran back towards the marine shop, praying I had time to get my carts and wheel them out to The Big Easy before the shambling nasties caught up with me.

  But when I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see monsters, I saw an empty street.

  They hadn’t followed me.

  I stopped and stood in the road, watching the door of the supermarket.

  I heard groans coming from inside but none of the zombies stepped out through the doorway.

  Slowly, carefully, I walked back to the doorway and risked a glance inside.

  The shop was full of them, packed in there so tightly it was standing room only. They shot hateful looks at me with their yellow eyes and a collective moan rose from the herd. The ones standing closest to the door reached for me but none of them made a move.

  I watched them, the prey regarding the predator, and wiped rain from the lenses of the diving mask.

  This made no sense.

  Either way, the supermarket was a bust.

  Out of curiosity, I went to the Chinese restaurant next door and looked in through the windows. The place was full of zombies.

  I turned on my heels and went back to the marine shop. Opening the back door and pushing the carts outside, I took a last look around the place to make sure I hadn’t missed anything valuable.

  Mike stood by The Big Easy waiting for me. When he saw the carts, he came running along the jetty and took one of them from me, pushing it to our boat as I followed.

  “You look like a bandit, man.”

  “It’s easier to see this way.”

  “See any zombies?”