DEAD RAIN: A Tale of the Zombie Apocalypse (14 page)

As soon as she switched on her headlights Ryan put the Ford in reverse, plowing without mercy through the zombies coming down the driveway. He backed out onto the road and sat next to the dying flares, waiting for the Camry
to start moving, fighting the urge to steal another look at the squirming worm-man in the puddle nearby.

He glanced in his rearview and a fresh surge of terror washed over him. Dozens of zombies dotted the road behind him. They were migrating from the main roads, and their numbers were obviously growing.

He reached to honk his horn but thought twice, not wanting to draw any more zombies than the ones already headed their way. After what seemed like an eternity he saw the Camry start to move and he took off down the road.

Kerri steered carefully around the bodies that Ryan ran over, which were clambering to their feet, awkwardly balanced on fractured femurs and shattered hips and toes. Although she’d seen enough to know their monstrous nature, she had a hard time looking past their vestigial humanity. As ghastly as they looked, she was used to seeing people with hideous injuries. And ever the optimist, some part of her hoped they could be saved.

She paused for a moment at the edge of the driveway, stunned as she saw the flood of zombies coming down the road. Then she stepped on the gas, following the Ford away from the lumbering horde.

Thank you Jesus,
she thought, imagining what would have happened if they had lingered in Emma’s house a few minutes longer.

Ryan looked in his rearview and breathed a happy sigh as he saw the Camry’s headlights following. Then his happiness doubled as he lowered his gaze through the windshield—and saw the flashing beacon of a cop car approaching. Better yet, there were two sets of police lights, moving in a tight formation.
A convoy. Awesome. The cavalry has arrived.

“
Emma, look,” Kerri said hopefully as she spotted the flashing lights. “Cop cars!”

But instead of comfort, the words sent a terrifying chill through
Emma. “No! Don’t stop!” she cried.

Kerri remembered the girl’s story about the Sheriff and the cemetery and realized the police lights might mean trouble—if her story was true, and not some delusional fantasy.

In the fast approaching cruiser, Deputy Hayes recognized the ’58 Ford and spent exactly one second calculating his move. He hit his siren and swerved to a halt beside it. The Sheriff followed his cue and cut his SUV in front of the Ford, blocking it in.

“Shit!” Ryan hit the brakes. The Ford slid to a halt on the slippery road, just feet from the Sheriff’s bumper.

Hayes jumped from his car, handgun drawn. He aimed it at Ryan’s window with trembling hands.

The Sheriff climbed out of his SUV and leveled his rifle at the Ford’s windshield. “Get out of the car!” he yelled. “
Hands up where I can see them!”

Hayes turned to check out the Camry as it rolled to a stop nearby. It was illuminated by his cruiser’s headlights, but its windshield was blurred by the torrents of rain streaming over it.

Kerri saw the action unfolding and realized it lent credence to Emma’s story. “Oh my god, you weren’t lying were you?”

“Don’t let them get me,”
Emma pleaded. “Please.”

Kerri shifted into reverse but hesitated, not wanting to leave Ryan behind in their clutches.
Her mind raced for a solution. She thought about using her Glock to try to rescue him, but realized it would be suicide. She was not a practiced shooter and certainly no match for a pair of trained lawmen. And she couldn’t run down both officers before one got off a few shots. And what if the girl was wrong?

“Go!” pleaded
Emma. But Kerri still hesitated, her mind a mishmash of guilt and hope, clinging to the possibility that Emma was mistaken and the lawmen might just be following procedure.

“Where’s the girl?” shouted the Sheriff as Ryan stepped out of the Ford with his hands held high.

“What girl?” Ryan bluffed, and he flicked his raised hands backwards, subtly signaling Kerri to run.

“Don’t play with me, boy, or I’ll blow your goddamned head off. I’m in no mood for stupid games.”

“Sheriff…” Hayes spoke nervously, eyeing the parade of corpses shambling towards them, less than fifty feet away.

The Sheriff ignored him, intently focused on Ryan. “Speak up, boy! Where’s the girl? I don’t know what she told you but she’s crazy. We aren’t going to hurt her, but it’s urgent that we find her and find her fast. Millions of lives depend on it.”

Ryan considered his words. Could they be true? Emma was obviously shaken. Could she just be delusional?

Hayes glanced at the Camry just as the wipers swept the windshield clean, giving him a clear glimpse of
Emma in the passenger seat. Ignoring the searing pain in his chin he pointed and shouted the alarm. “Sheriff! She’s in there! She’s in the other car!”

His frantic gesticulating and the Sheriff’s reaction hit Kerri like a brick. “Shit. Time to go.” She shifted into reverse and sped backwards towards
Emma’s house, plowing down zombies on the way. There were just too many to avoid and she had only one thought in mind.
Escape.

“Go!” yelled the Sheriff.

Hayes jumped into his cruiser and took off in hot pursuit.

The Camry swerved recklessly backwards all the way to the nearest intersection, then
turned and shot forward, disappearing around the corner.

Hayes sped after them. Zombies caromed off the hood of his car. Cutting his wheel without slowing down he slid into the i
ntersection on squealing tires.

Ryan watched the intensity of the chase and realized it confirmed
Emma’s story. Turning back to face the Sheriff, he waited to learn his fate. He had a gun in each of his coat pockets, but unless the Sheriff dropped his guard there was no way he could go for them without getting shot.

Sheriff Leeds stared at him blankly, wrestling with the last scraps of his conscience. “Sorry, son,” he finally said. “Can’t have
no loose ends running around.” He raised his rifle and fired.

Ryan dove to the ground and rolled across the tarmac. Pulling both of his handguns he fired back. His shots missed—but the lawman ducked in a panic and slipped on the rain-drenched asphalt, dropping his gun.

Before he could retrieve the rifle, Ryan leaped into the Ford. He threw it into reverse and sped away, driving backwards at high speed, crashing through zombies, steamrolling over them, not stopping until he reached the intersection. He swerved to a stop and shifted into drive.

The Sheriff raised his rifle and fired an angry blast. A bullet passed through the Ford, shattering both front windows, miss
ing Ryan’s head by inches.

Then Ryan floored it and was gone.

Alone on the street, the Sheriff cursed loudly and sucked in a lungful of cold damp air, trying to cool his blood pressure. He gazed at the corpses plodding toward him through the rain, and was dismayed by how far and how quickly the Resurrection had spread in such a short time.

This is no joke. If I don’t stop that girl from talking, I’m as dead as these sorry bastards.

36

“Did you hear gunshots?” asked Cat of her partner.

“Sounded like it,” said Nick. “But it could’ve been thunder.” He drove slowly, straining to see through the flooded windshield. They were on a quiet residential street, still several blocks from the hospital on Route 9.

“Stop
!” Cat cried suddenly. “Stop, Nick! Stop!”

Bronski stopped the SUV.

“Somebody’s out there on the road.” Cat rubbed a chamois across the windshield, trying to get a better look at the hunched, staggering figure blocking the road in front of them.

A man stood in the glare of their headlights, head down, hair dripping, ankle deep in a puddle. He waved his arms in a weird jerky motion, then sloshed slowly forward toward their vehicle.

“Idiot’s gonna get hit,” said Bronski. “Jesus, there’s another one.” He nodded to a second man further down the street, also walking in the middle of the road.

“What’s wrong with them?” Cat asked.

“They’re obviously drunk or on drugs,” Bronski answered. “Why else would they be walking around in the pouring rain?”

Cat studied the slow moving walkers. “I don’t know. Something’s not right. I think they might be injured or something.” She rolled
down her window and called out to the nearest man. “Hey! Sir, are you alright?”

The man looked up at her. His face was sickly pale and covered with dark splotches, his features obscured by the rain. He stared at Cat dully and wandered towards her open window.

“I think he’s in shock,” Cat said. “Either that or on serious drugs.” She started getting out but as she opened the door Bronski grabbed her arm, noticing more shadowy movement on the road ahead.

“Wait, Cat, close your door. Quick! Put your window up. Put your damn window up now!”

Cat quickly complied, knowing enough to trust her partner’s instincts. “What?”

“I’m not sure but—”

As her window slid shut the zombie banged his face against it. He clawed at the window and tried to bite through the glass.

“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Look at this joker. He’s on his own planet.”

“No, he’s not,” said Bronski. “Look.” He switched on the spotlight, revealing dozens of sluggish walkers swaying drunkenly on the road, oblivious to the rain. An instinctive chill rolled up his backbone.

“What the hell?” Cat said. “Are they all on drugs or what?”

“I don’t think it’s drugs. And I don’t think they’re drunk either. Look at them. They’re old, they’re young, there’s no common thread. I don’t see this bunch partying together. And some of them look really sick. Something weird is going on down here.”

Cat aimed her flashlight
through the window at the man outside. Instead of recoiling from the blinding light like a normal person, he seemed to be motivated by it, banging and clawing at the window, not even blinking his eyes. A chill ran up Cat’s spine as she saw his face in the light—and realized that the splotches were deep bloody bite marks; tattered strands of flesh framing naked bone. “Oh my God,” she gasped, and turned to her partner for an answer. “Those are bite marks.”

“I’d say we’re i
n the middle of an epidemic,” Bronski said coolly, as he backed the vehicle slowly away from the bodies staggering toward it. “And whatever the hell it is, we have to assume it’s contagious.”

“Is this why that Sheriff was so determined to get us out of here in such a hurry? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know,” Bronski answered. He swerved around the nearest clump of zombies, cut across an unfenced lawn and snaked through the other wandering bodies on the street, taking pains not to hit them. “Maybe somebody paid him to keep it under wraps. If it’s an experiment gone wrong… maybe some kind of military thing... chemical… or biological warfare. Who knows? Let’s just get over to that hospital and see what they know. They have to be dealing with it by now.”

“Then what?”

“Then we shoot back to headquarters to sound the alarm. Before whatever this is gets too far out of control.”

37

Fat raindrops splattered on the Camry’s windshield, blurring it as quickly as the wipers slapped it clean. Kerri drove as fast as she felt safe to drive on the heavily flooded streets. Huge puddles gurgled from backed-up sewers, turning every interse
ction into a shiny black swamp.

Emma
cowered in the passenger seat,  struggling to remember the prayers she had embedded in her head during eight years of repetitive Catechism classes. But her panic-stricken mind stalled halfway through a simple Hail Mary.

The red and blue flashers of Hayes’ pursuing cruiser grew closer in their rearview and Kerri became more reckless, pushing the ten-year-old car to its limits. The Camry threw up a rooster-tail of water as it splashed through a puddle, dodging the wandering cadavers in the street.

Hayes wasn’t nearly as considerate, gunning right through the walking dead with his beefier patrol car. He felt a perverse satisfaction as their broken bodies rolled across his hood and slipped over the side, greasing his windshield with blood and chunks of slimy gore. They were the reason for this nightmare. If he ever got out of this situation he’d take off for California. Or better yet, Hawaii.

Kerri cut her wheel hard as they reached an intersection. Without slowing down she sailed into a sudden turn, hoping to shake off the deputy. The Camry slid out of control. Skidding across a patch of soggy lawn it
bounced off a chain-link fence.

Emma
screamed but Kerri kept her cool. Shifting into low she floored the gas. As they veered back onto the road the fence snagged the rear bumper and tore it half off its mounts. As they sped away dragging the bumper, it clattered off into the street.

Hayes’ cruiser swung into view a moment later. With its bigger tires and better tread it flew through the turn with no problem—but was moving too fast to avoid the fallen bumper. The front tires scooped it up and flung it up into the wheel well. The tires locked up—spinning the cruiser in
to a harrowing one-eighty.

Hayes stomped down hard on the brake pedal. “Lord Jesus help me!” The tires shrieked and
smoked and the cruiser finally spun to a stop. He sucked in a calming breath, then eased the car forward until the wheels locked again. He shifted into reverse, then forward again, rocking the car back and forth until the chewed up bumper dropped free.

Seconds later he was back in pursuit, chasing the taill
ights of the Camry a mile away.

Kerri checked her rearview and saw him coming. She took the next turn more judiciously then quickly accelerated. She knew if they could make it to Route 147 they had a chance to make a clean getaway. There were sharply winding curves on the densely wooded road and plenty of hidden turn-offs. If she timed things just right she could make the Camry disappear in the middle of the chase.

Hayes’ lights grew steadily larger in her rearview. He was half a mile back but closing fast. Kerri knew she couldn’t outrace him much longer in the modest four-cylinder sedan, which was already taxed to its limits.

By the time she neared the next intersection, the cruiser was hot on her tail. Kerri’s heart was pounding like a kettledrum.
I can’t shake him. His car is just too fast.

As she reached the intersection Hayes was right behind her. She waited until the very last second, then cut her wheel to make a surprise turn, hoping to buy precious seconds whe
n he overshot the intersection.

Instantly she knew she’d made a mistake. The Camry went into a slide, more violent than the last one. She stomped on the brake pedal with everything she had but the car barely slowed before slamming sidelong into a picku
p truck parked near the corner.

The airbags deployed, pi
nning the women in their seats.

Hayes stopped his cruiser in the intersection and calmly surveyed the streets in all directions, checking for zombies. He could see some slow-moving bodies in the distance turning toward the sound of the crash, but no immediate threats.

He parked behind the pickup and unlocked his shotgun bracket. Feeling guilty, but determined to do his nefarious duty, he stepped from the vehicle, shotgun in hand.
Make it quick. Don’t make them suffer any more than they have to.

Rain pummeled his raingear as he walked to the crashed car. Sneaking past his collar it tickled his neck
like a death cold finger. Through the blurry windows of the Camry he could see the two women inside. Physically unhurt but mentally dazed, they were trapped in their seats by the slowly deflating airbags.

Sheriff Leeds’ gruff voice played in his head.
Get it over with, boy. Before you pussy out.

Cocking the shotgun he stepped to the driver’s side window. Through the cloudy streams of rain slithering over the glass he could see the rippling image of Kerri’s face looking up at him. Despite the watery distortion he could tell she was a beauty and could sense the utter terror in her eyes. He was about to murder two women he would have fawned over under normal circumstances.

A moment of doubt clouded his conscience but he brushed it aside and raised the shotgun, taking aim through the driver’s window. As his finger touched the trigger the screeching of tires made him pause. He turned toward the sound and his eyes opened wide as the vintage Ford rocketed around the corner—heading straight toward him.

In a desperate reflex Hayes swung the
shotgun toward its windshield.

A ton of Detroit steel punched through his groin, smashing his pelvis to a pulp. He flipped through the air like a ragdoll and his shotgun discharged, sending its deadly load skyward.

Every zombie for a mile turned toward the lusty boom.

The Ford slid to a halt and Ryan hopped out
, his eyes locked in horror on the deputy’s twisted body, sprawled in a heap on the rain-drenched tarmac. He ran to the Camry and yanked Kerri’s door open. She tumbled out, unsteady on her feet.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Kerri. “Just a little shaken. But we need to get out of here before that Sheriff turns up.”

With her door jammed shut against the side of the pick-up,
Emma had to climb across the center console to get out. But as she slid into the driver’s seat she collapsed there, feeling faint and hopeless and saturated with fear. She slumped against the steering wheel and started to sob uncontrollably. Not sure she wanted to go on.

“
Emma, please. We have to go,” Ryan said sternly. He was losing his patience, afraid her weakness would be their bitter end, but was determined to stay compassionate come what may. Turning to Kerri he quietly confided, “We have to get her out of here. Before she loses it completely.”

A haunting moan drew their attention back to Hayes. Ryan stepped over to check on him, followed closely by Kerri.

Lightning surged across the sky. Hayes was an unnerving sight, lying in a puddle of swirling blood and rain. His legs were turned backwards, his torso nearly cut in half. He reached a pleading hand to them. It was clear what he wanted. Death.

Ryan and Kerri looked at each, not sure they wanted to grant his request. Kerri heard another soft moan behind them. She turned and saw a zombie heading their way, a hundred feet away
, with another close behind it.

She ran to the Camry and grabbed
Emma’s arm, trying to pry it off the steering wheel. “Emma, come on, we have to go now. Come on!”

Ryan spotted Hayes’ shotgun lying nearby on the road. He snatched it up and walked over to Hayes, who was suffering a hell of pain and regret as he watched his lifeblood trickle
away beneath him.

Hayes coughed up a mouthful of blood. A vision of the thing he’d run over and left to suffer on the road slipped tauntingly into his brain as he realized he was lying in a puddle.

Ryan aimed the shotgun at him. Hayes smiled weakly, grateful for a merciful end to his rueful existence. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” Ryan said coldly. “Can’t waste the round.”
He turned and looked at the deputy’s cruiser idling behind the pickup. Its steamy exhaust beckoned with the promise of escape. But the nearest zombie was just a few yards away.

“Please…” Hayes croaked.

Ryan looked at him regretfully, knowing he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t show some kind of mercy. He slammed the butt of the shotgun down on Hayes’ head, knocking him cold.

“Come on,” he called to Kerri, “We have to get moving.” He jogged to the cruiser and confronted the
nearest zombie, slamming the butt of the shotgun into its face. It went down but tried to get up, clawing at Ryan’s legs, tugging the hem of his yellow slicker. Ryan bashed the gun down again and again, not stopping until the zombie lay dead. He was starting to feel like a robot, moving on auto-pilot. Survival was a powerful instinct.

“Let’s go!” he yelled fiercely, eyeing the parade of zombies getting too close for comfort
. “I’m not waiting any longer!”

Emma
finally let go of the steering wheel and climbed out of the car. Kerri helped her into the back seat of the cruiser, then hopped in the front next to Ryan.

They drove in silence for a long minute. Ryan was still hot from the violent encounter and both he and Kerri were worried about
Emma’s sanity.

Ryan finally broke the tension. Checking the fuel gauge he managed a fatigued smile. “A full tank of gas. I think our luck is changing.”

Kerri smiled. “I’m okay to drive if you want,” she offered.

Ryan grinned wryly as he thought of the wrecked Camry. “No, that’s okay. I got it.”

He handed her Hayes’ twelve gauge. “You can ride shotgun.”