Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm (2 page)

I looked toward the jetty. I could run back to
The Big Easy
but what if they followed me? We couldn’t untie the boat and be underway before they had a chance to get on board. At the moment,
The Big Easy
and Lucy were safe in the shroud of fog. I wanted to keep it that way.

Picking up the bat, I crept across the pebbles to the cement walkway in front of the marine store and crouched there, flattening myself against the rough brick wall. I was too exposed here. I could still see the rowboat, which meant if anyone stood there, they could see me.

The footsteps were getting louder.
 

I pushed on the glass door to the marine supply store and slipped inside. Something touched my neck and I thought for a terrifying moment that I had stumbled into a zombie but it was just a wetsuit hanging on a rail. I sat in the darkness and tried to calm myself down. My breathing sounded so loud I was sure anyone outside the store would be able to hear it.
 

The footsteps stopped and I heard voices. Men’s voices. I couldn’t make out the words through the door. I wished I had hidden further back among the shelves of the store. What if they came in here?
 
I was so close to the glass door, they would trip over me.

I inched across the cold tiled floor looking for a hiding place. The store had been the source of the clothes I now wore and it looked like it had been looted by others as well. The clothing racks were almost bare and most of them had been tipped over onto the floor. The wooden shelves that ran down the center of the store had been pushed over and lay in pieces like broken bones on the hard floor.
 

Sliding back into the shadows at the back of the store, I tried to avoid the splinters of wood and lengths of chrome rails. I had to be silent. Sitting in the dark, leaning back against the wall, I tried to control my breathing.
 

I waited there for at least five minutes, bat clutched tightly in my hands, before I dared move back to the door. I peered through the dirty glass.

The fog had lifted slightly. On the pebbles, the yellow rowboat sat alone, waiting for me. I had to get out of here. Lucy was right; coming ashore here was a stupid idea. As soon as I rowed that little yellow boat to
The Big Easy
, I was never going to come back to this city again.
 

There was no sign of the men I had heard.

I opened the door and slowly put my head out, listening.
 

All I could hear was the whisper of gentle waves rolling over the pebbles and the distant rumblings of engines somewhere in the city. I stepped outside. The baseball bat felt heavy. I didn’t want to use it on living people but I would if they stood between me and
The Big Easy
.

I strode quickly to the rowboat, grabbed the cold damp wooden edge of the stern, and dragged it across the pebbles toward the sea. The cold water ran into my boots and soaked the bottom of my jeans as I waded in to better pull the boat into water deep enough to float it.
 

Satisfied that the boat wouldn’t touch the bottom even when it held my weight, I threw the bat in and clambered after it. By the time I was in the rowboat, I was wet, cold and breathing hard. I didn’t have time to take a breather; I was barely six feet from the shore. If the waves took me any closer to the beach, I’d be grounded. I didn’t want to get into the freezing water again to push the boat farther out.
   

I picked up one of the wet oars and slid the blade into the water to push the boat out to sea. The oar sank into the pebbles on the sea bed. I put my weight against it and pushed. The boat moved farther out from shore.

I dragged the oar back in and pushed it into the metal oar lock on the side of the boat. It went in with a loud
clunk
.
 

Reaching for the second oar, I glanced toward the shore and froze with fear.
 

Two men were running out of the fog toward me. Their clothes were filthy and torn, their faces gaunt and bearded. In the old world, I would have assumed they were homeless.

In this new world they were simply survivors. They probably spent every day avoiding the army and zombies, scavenging for food and taking what they needed to survive for one more day.
 

One of them held a meat cleaver, the other a hand axe.

Their eyes were wild.

They splashed into the water and grabbed the boat, raising their weapons.
 

I picked up my bat and prepared to fight for my life.

three

As they grabbed the boat, it rocked violently from side to side and my boots slipped on the slick wood. I lost my balance and fell headfirst into the sea. The world became a rush of deathly-cold water as I went under. I fought for air, finding the loose pebble bed beneath my boots and pushing against it until my face broke the surface and I breathed in a lungful of cold air, standing waist deep in the sea.

The man closest to me swung the hand axe at my head. He had to wade into deeper water to reach me and the waves pushed at him, spoiling his swing. I lifted the baseball bat with both hands and blocked the blow. As the axe shaft hit the hard wood of the bat, I pulled back, yanking the axe out of the wild survivor’s hand. His weapon dropped into the sea between us with a splash.

Wild-eyed, he lunged at me.

I barely had time to get the bat between us. He grabbed it and tried to wrestle it out of my hands.

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 from 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?