His companion was getting closer, coming around the rowboat with the cleaver held high.
I needed to move.
Now.
I jabbed the bat forward into the survivor’s face. His nose exploded and he let go of the bat to put his hands to his face. I used that split second to kick out into deeper water. The bat encumbered me and I was no Olympic swimmer but I had no other option. If I went for the beach they would outrun me and pull me down to the ground. Swimming out to sea was the only chance I had.
If I could just make it to The Big Easy with enough distance between me and the pursuing survivor, I could climb on board to safety.
I glanced over my shoulder. The man behind me moved through the waves with choppy strokes of his arms, his bloodshot eyes wild as he realised his prey might escape.
I faced forward again and pulled myself through the water in a combination of breaststroke and front crawl. I hated swimming. My parents used to take Joe and me to the local pool once a week when we were kids but it soon lost its appeal. As I got older, I drifted into the world of video games and the only swimming I participated in was on a game console.
Exhaustion hit me like a heavy weight, threatening to pull me under. Panicking, I looked behind me. The wild survivor was gaining on me.
I wouldn’t make it to The Big Easy.
Looking around, I spotted a chrome ladder on the side of the jetty. As I made for it, I squinted against the fog in an attempt to see our boat but I couldn’t see her through the grey wall. We would need to be underway as soon as I reached her, before the two survivors got on board and killed us in their crazy rage.
I reached the ladder and put my boot on the rungs below the water, pulling myself up despite the tiredness and cold.
I shouted toward the end of the jetty as I climbed. “Lucy! We need to get out of here! Untie the boat!”
Exhausted, I reached the top of the ladder and crawled onto the wooden slats of the jetty as my pursuer reached the bottom of the ladder. This was going to be tight. Would I even make it?
A moan escaped my lips as I scrambled to my feet and staggered toward the end of the jetty in a slow run.
“Lucy!” I called, “Start the engines!” It was too quiet. If the yacht’s engines were running, I should be able to hear them. I had to be close enough now.
All I could hear was rapid footsteps behind me. They beat on the wood like a drum counting off the final seconds of my life.
I pushed myself to run faster. If I could just get to The Big Easy, I had more of a fighting chance. Lucy was there and she had weapons, including the gun.
Run!
The footsteps were louder, closer. I could hear the survivor’s ragged breath, smell his sweat mixed with salty sea water.
The fuel pump appeared through the thick fog.
I looked for The Big Easy but there was no reassuring bulky dark shape where she had been moored.
Just empty sea.
The Big Easy…and Lucy…were gone.
four
The edge of the jetty appeared but I couldn’t stop. The man behind me was so close I had already braced myself to feel the razor-sharp edge of the meat cleaver slicing through my skin. I ran until the wood beneath my boots disappeared and I was falling towards the water, trying to grab a breath of air in my burning lungs before I went under.
The coldness enveloped me in a sudden rush and I fought my way to the surface. My lungs felt like they were on fire. The muscles in my arms barely held enough strength to pull me through the water.
I took a deep gulp of air and checked the water around me. No sign of my pursuer. I looked up at the jetty. He wasn’t there either. Maybe he hadn’t followed me into the water. He could have given up and gone back to check on his companion.
I trod water and got my breath back, taking in deep lungsful of chilly, moist air. I couldn’t stay out here much longer; I was already tiring. It would be ironic if I managed to escape a cleaver-wielding maniac only to drown in the sea.
Swimming back to the marina was out of the question; they could be waiting there for me. I had to swim across to the beach and pray the coast was clear.
As I kicked out and tried to relax into an easy breaststroke, I cursed myself for leaving the safety of The Big Easy. Lucy had been right; my plan was stupid. If I had listened to her, I would be on board right now drinking hot coffee instead of swimming in the icy sea.
My life was in danger. Alone and onshore, I had very little chance of survival. I had stupidly thought the fog would protect me but instead it had separated me from Lucy and the safety of our boat. Once the fog faded, I would be visible to both the military and the shambling nasties.
I wasn’t sure which I feared most.
After a few minutes of swimming, I headed toward the beach. The sun had burned off some of the fog and I could see the stretch of sand and the dark angle of the cliffs. The beach looked deserted.
If I could hole up there for half an hour, I could then double back and take a boat. Once I was safely at sea, I could search for Lucy. All I needed to do was wait thirty minutes or so and hope the two crazy survivors had moved on from the marina. With nothing there to kill or steal, I assumed they would lose interest and search elsewhere for victims.
I swam into the shallows and reached down with my legs, finding the soft sand. Wading through the chest-high cold water, trying to move faster despite the shifting sand beneath my boots, I scanned the beach. No movement other than a pair of seagulls fighting over the carcass of a dead fish.
The sand beneath my feet sloped upwards and I struggled up onto the beach. I stumbled out of the water and collapsed onto my back, staring up at the grey sky. I was exhausted. Every muscle ached and my breath came in harsh gasps that burned my throat. I wasn’t built for this kind of physical action. Although I had lost a few pounds since the apocalypse, I was still out of shape and unfit.
That could get me killed, especially in this situation.
I sat up and looked for somewhere to lie low. There were caves in the cliffs. If I could hide inside one of those and…
Something burst from the sea in a spray of water. I turned in time to see the wild-eyed survivor with the meat cleaver running through the shallows towards me.
I barely had time to think. Reflexively, I grabbed the bat from the damp sand and struggled to my feet. He reached me in seconds, raising the cleaver high above his head as he prepared to deal me the death blow.
I didn’t want to die. Not here on this wet, fog-enshrouded beach.
I swung the bat.
It connected with his stomach, doubling him over. He let go of the cleaver but its forward momentum carried it in a deadly arc towards my head.
I ducked and it whistled past me in the air before landing with a dull thud in the sand.
The survivor was on his knees, struggling to his feet.
I couldn’t let that happen. He had followed me all the way from the marina with murderous intent. As long as he lived, I would be hunted.
I swung the baseball bat down onto the back of his neck. The cracking sound it made as it connected with his spine sickened me. This wasn’t a zombie. This was a human being. A survivor.
Not anymore.
He lay in the sand. Silent. Still.
At least he was face down. I couldn’t bear to see his eyes staring up at me.
I walked away from the body quickly, leaving his cleaver half buried in the sand. Hopefully, the tide would come in soon and wash everything away.
As I looked for caves in the cliff wall, the sound of vehicles and voices reached me through the fog. They sounded far off but I quickened my search.
When I found a narrow crack that was barely wide enough to crawl into, I peered inside. It ran deep enough into the cliffs that it was pitch black in there. I sniffed the air. Sand, salt and seaweed. No sickly-sweet stench of death.
I crawled inside, feeling my way along the rough rock walls. The cave was small and dark but at least it was hidden f
rom the beach. And I was sure it was far enough from the water’s edge to escape the high tide. The sand in here was dry.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. This was a bad day. My simple plan to come ashore and find a rowboat had quickly unravelled and now I had no idea where Lucy was or how I was going to get back to The Big Easy. Why had Lucy left the marina? Why had she abandoned me? There had to be a good reason. She wouldn’t have left me just because she was mad at me for going ashore. Would she?
Of course she wouldn’t. Lucy knew how dangerous it was on foot, how difficult to survive without the sea between us and the nasties. She would never leave me alone here.
At the moment, her reason didn’t matter. Knowing why she left the marina wasn’t going to help me get a boat and sail out to find her. I needed to focus on the here and now while I still had a here and now to focus on.
The noises of men and vehicles were louder. Voices drifted on the breeze along with the clanking of heavy machinery. It was still far enough away that I didn’t have to worry but what if one of those men decided to take a walk along the beach and found the body lying on the sand? What if that made them wary, compelled them to search the area?
My hiding place suddenly seemed exposed. I was trapped inside this tiny hole in the rocks.
I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t resist the urge to look outside and check the beach. If I saw people coming this way, I could run.
Crawling outside, I pressed myself against the rocks and squinted against the fog. The sun had burned most of it away and I could see all the way to the marina. What I saw there made my heart sink.
The place was crawling with soldiers and military vehicles. They had a big rumbling excavator belching smoke and gouging trenches in the sand with its steel bucket. Land Rovers and armoured personnel carriers were parked on the beach and around the marina. Soldiers scurried along the jetties carrying sandbags and large pieces of metal. There was even a tank sitting there, its gun barrel pointing across the beach at me like an accusing finger.
I was sure they hadn’t seen me yet but I couldn’t stay here with the army crawling over the area. There was no way I could get a boat from the marina now.
What the hell was I going to do?
Keeping close to the rocks, I headed in the opposite direction along the cliffs. A quick glance over my shoulder now and then told me they hadn’t seen me. They were too busy doing their job, whatever that was.
The beach ahead of me terminated at a large cliff that jutted into the sea. A set of sun-bleached stone steps flanked by grey metal handrails led up to the cliff top. I didn’t want to go up there. The streets of the city were deadly.
But I couldn’t stay here and wait to be discovered by the soldiers who had invaded the beach. Besides, the tide was coming in and I was already wet and cold.
I walked over the steps but hesitated. The fog had disappeared. Any advantage it might have given me was gone. It was a sunny morning, which meant the zombies would be roaming the streets. I hadn’t wanted this. Why hadn’t I listened to Lucy and stayed aboard The Big Easy?
Wondering how many more dumb decisions I was going to make and if any of them were going to cost me my life, I put my boot on the first step and wrapped my fingers around the cold metal handrail.
As slow as a man walking to the gas chamber, I went up to the city.
five
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, whic
h 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.
Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm Page 2
