Free DEAD RAIN: A Tale of the Zombie Apocalypse by Joe Augustyn Page A

street was unlit, too small for the county to waste power for streetlights. Visibility was just a few yards but he could see the lights of Route 9 in the distance, three or four blocks away. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the comforting glow. He’d taken a few wrong turns on his journey through the fog, at one point wandering to the end of a dark cul-de-sac and having to double back.
    He studied the houses around him for signs of life. Lamplight shone through some closed curtains, but Ryan knew the lamps were probably on timers, set to dissuade burglars in the largely deserted community. Most of the residents had evacuated to the homes of inland relatives to escape the expected nor’easter, taking such storms more seriously since the deadly destruction of Superstorm Sandy in 2012.
    The night air was chilly and damp. Ryan regretted not grabbing his jacket when he bolted from the house. Too late now. Just get your ass to the hospital. It’ll be warm there. He slinked silently forward, moving cautiously through the fog, clutching the beefy little snubnose with both hands. The cold steel and Bakelite grips felt sturdy and strangely empowering. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he actually tried to fire the gun. It was practically an antique, and hadn’t been fired in decades as far as he knew.
    He wished his mother had heeded his pleas to buy a more modern pistol, but she’d insisted the old Colt was solid and trustworthy. Her great-uncle Ed had been a policeman, and it had been his service revolver. Besides, new guns were expensive and she’d never really expected to need one in the sleepy little town.
    A dog barked somewhere in the neighborhood, setting off a canine chorus. Like jungle drums they seemed to be sending messages back and forth, their barks echoing near and far. Ryan spotted a shadowy figure moving slowly along the side of the street. He retreated quietly to the other side, not wanting to risk a confrontation if he could avoid it. With his nerves on edge and visibility so poor, he was afraid he might shoot an innocent person by accident.
    His heart skipped a beat as another silhouette lurched toward him through the fog. He nearly walked into it before he saw it coming. Just a few feet from making contact he switched on his LED keychain flashlight, brighteni ng the fog with its icy blue light.
    The sight that greet ed him chilled him to the bone. It was a man, or rather what remained of one. The thing’s face had just a few shriveled strips of skin clinging to its skull. Its facial muscles were hard and brown and curled into knotty lumps, reminding him of the dried out ligaments of leftover Thanksgiving turkeys. Its tightly drawn grimace revealed rows of bloodstained teeth. Its eyes were skewed up and down at crazy angles. The skin around them had rotted away, making them bulge from their sockets. His suit reeked of dankness, covered with musty green mold.
    Ryan stumbled backwards. His knees felt like water. In his backpedaling haste he twisted an ankle and fell. The revenant staggered forward, leering hungrily, its gnarle d fingers reaching to grab him.
    Ryan aimed at its chest and fired. The gunshot was surprisingly loud. A fiery yellow blast lit up the fog. The lifeless walker tumbled backwards, knocked off-balance by the impact. His skinny legs buckled under him at an awkward angle and one of them snapped as he landed on it—but before Ryan regained his feet it was rising again, undeterred.
    Ryan almost fainted as he saw the jagged white bones jutting through the man’s pant leg. Choking back a mouthful of peppery vomit he ran past the teetering wretch.
    The barking dogs were now in a frenzy. A security light flared on outside one of the nearby houses, casting a circle of light on the street. Ryan stopped in his tracks. A handful of leaden figures were creeping towards him through the fog. He looked over at the newly lit up house, wondering if he should run for it. But he saw figures lurking