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

in the shadows on the sidewalk, and realized it would be a dangerous risk.
    A hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see his mother standing there. But it wasn’t his mother. It was a foul reanimated thing, drenched in blood, eyes like cold marbles. And beyond her he saw a familiar silhouette, one he’d seen many times in their home’s dark hallway while he hid behind a corner, waiting to leap out and scare his little brother. As Kevin’s reanimated corpse shambled closer he saw the same dead black fish eyes of what used to be his brother.
    Ryan stood frozen for a moment—it seemed like his heart would never start beating again—then he shoved his mother’s corpse away and turned to run—bumping immediately into another lurching corpse. Like his mother, it was a freshly reanimated woman. Her chin and blouse were drenched with blood.
    Her eyes were icy stones as she gripped Ryan’s forearm. He tried to shake her off, but she dug her nails into his skin and grabbed his collar with her other hand, determined to feed on his flesh. As she opened her mouth to bite him Ryan raised the revolver and shot her between the eyes. Her head snapped back and she flopped to the ground.
    Ryan leaped over her body and ran for his life. Stutter-stepping silhouettes moved toward him from all directions and he wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and the things that had once been his family. He used the weighty revolver like a club to fend off a man in pajamas and shot another in passing.
    Barely able to see through the fog and the tears that were flooding his eyes, he didn’t stop running until he reached Route 9. Just one lane in either direction, the historic old road had once been the main coastal highway, until the new Parkway was built a few miles away, closer to the beach towns. It was still the main road through a string of small towns, but most of its length was dimly lit.
    Ryan looked around, searching the nearby buildings for signs of life. Most were businesses, closed for the night. The few homes scattered among them were set far back from the street, hidden down long dark driveways.
    The fog suddenly brightened. Ryan turned to see headlights coming his way. He dashed into the street, shouting and waving his arms. The driver sped past him, unaware of the zombie menace and not inclined to stop for a teen with a gun.
    “Wait! Stop!” Ryan pleaded, watching in despair as the car faded into the fog.
    A second car sped past a second later, nearly clipping him. Then he was alone.
    He looked around, hoping to see more headlights approaching, but there were none. It was not yet nine p.m. but traffic was unusually light due to the treacherous fog and the incoming storm. He decided he’d have to stick to his plan and risk the remaining quarter-mile to the hospital on foot. His chances seemed good if he was careful. He saw no zombies on the block ahead, and the revolver held a few more rounds.
    Heartened by the sight of the hospital lights just a long city block away, he trotted cautiously down the gloomy street, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement in the fog. The closer he got to safety, the harder it was to fight back the thoughts of his family’s bloody demise. Tears blurred his eyes, as much from clouds of fear and sorrow as from the nipping cold.
    A sudden clatter of sound erupted nearby. A ghostly figure appeared in the fog, shuffling awkwardly out of a driveway onto the sidewalk.
    Ryan raised the gun and took aim.
    A startled man looked up at him, dropped the metal trashcan he was carrying and ran back up the driveway toward his house.
    “Wait!” Ryan shouted. “Stop, please! I need help!”
    The man disappeared into the darkness. Ryan heard a door slam. The lights of the house went black. He lingered for a brief moment, debating whether to risk approaching the house. The man was no doubt calling the police at that very moment, but who knew how long it would be before they responded? He might