Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm

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Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm Page 6

by Harbinger, Shaun


  But their plan to take over Survivor Radio had me interested. Lucy listened to Survivor Radio. Maybe I could get a message to her. And Johnny Drake was playing requests for people in the Survivors Camps, which meant he had some form of communication with those camps. I might be able to get a message to Joe or find out where he and my family were.

  The rest of it…Apocalypse Island, the government lies…didn’t concern me. But if the story I had just heard was true and the rest of the world was uninfected, I could find Joe and my parents, rendezvous with Lucy and sail for America on The Big Easy. We could escape this hell.

  All I had to do was help Tanya, Jax, and Sam break into a radio station in Cornwall and take over the government-controlled broadcast for long enough to get a message out. Then escape with my life.

  Easy.

  Yeah, right.

  But what other option did I have? This was a chance to contact Lucy. The only chance I would ever have.

  I looked at Tanya and nodded. “We’ll need to get a boat. Swansea marina is out.”

  “Every other marina will be exactly the same,” she said. “They’re controlling every way into and out of the country.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We have to steal a boat from under their noses.”

  thirteen

  The next morning, I awoke on the sofa as sunlight streamed in through the window. I had found fresh sheets and a pillow in the linen closet and used them to make my night on the sofa more comfortable, but when I moved, I felt a painful stiffness in all my joints and muscles.

  Tanya, Jax, and Sam had taken their sleeping bags upstairs to spend the night on the bedroom floors. Nobody wanted to sleep in the beds of the dead old lady or farmer. Sam had taken the teenage son’s room and I could hear him snoring up there.

  I rolled off the sofa onto the floor and spent several painful minutes getting to my feet before staggering to the window. It was sunny but there were dark clouds over the trees. A good day to steal a boat from a military-occupied marina? Was there ever a good day for that?

  I went upstairs to the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror after taking off my “Sail To Your Destiny” T-shirt. My chest and back were covered in ugly purple bruises. The bridge of my nose was swollen where Tanya had punched me. The skin on my arms and face had blistered from the heat of the exploding Jeep Cherokee.

  I looked a mess.

  Even more of a mess than usual.

  How much longer was I going to survive? And even if I did stay alive, would I remain mentally stable or would I become like the feral survivors I had fought at the marina?

  I remembered the man I had killed on the beach. Best not to think about that; it was one of the thoughts that could send me spiraling into depression.

  I removed the rest of my clothes and took a shower, using the shampoo and citrus-scented gel in there. The hot water stung my bruised and blistered skin but I stood under the spray for as long as I could, letting it wash over me and wash away the dirt and grime that I felt was ingrained in my flesh.

  By the time I was dressed again, the others were in the kitchen searching for breakfast. Jax was in the pantry tossing tins of food out to Sam. He caught them and lined them up on the counter, inspecting the labels. Tanya was boiling the kettle, making coffee for everyone. I was glad to see four mugs. I needed caffeine. The plan we had formulated to get a boat from the marina was a crazy one. I needed to be alert.

  “Hey, dude, you want baked beans or tinned tomatoes for breakfast?” Sam indicated the tins with a flourish.

  “I’ll take beans.”

  He handed a tin of beans to me. “There’re saucepans hanging up over there if you want to heat them up.”

  “Cold is fine.” I found the cutlery drawer and fished out a fork. As I leaned against the wall and ate, Tanya brought me a mug of steaming black coffee.

  “You okay with today’s plan?” she asked me.

  “I understand it,” I said, “but I don’t know if I’m okay with it.”

  She grinned. “You’ll be fine. Just think, we could all be safe on a boat later today.”

  “A boat headed to a city that is probably heavily guarded, not to mention full of zombies. I looked at the map last night. We have to sail up the River Fal, then the Truro River to get to Truro Harbour. If there are army positions along those rivers, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “You worry too much, Alex.”

  “We also have to sail past Falmouth Harbour to get onto the river. The army presence there is going to be a lot stronger than at the Swansea marina; Falmouth Harbour is much bigger.”

  “So we’ll wait until night time and sneak past them under cover of darkness.”

  “It won’t be that easy.”

  “Then we’ll improvise. How long will it take us to get to the mouth of the river?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe two or three days. We have to go south from here, sail around Land’s End then head north along the East Coast until we get to Falmouth. I don’t know anything about navigation and I suggest we take it slow and easy.” I thought, but didn’t add, that there was no sense rushing into danger.

  “Fine. No worries.” She took her coffee and went into the living room.

  She might not be worried, but I was. The more I thought about taking a boat up the river, the more nervous I became. We could be blown out of the water with nowhere to run. That was if we even managed to get a boat in the first place. I had my doubts that the plan we had formulated the previous night was going to work; there were too many variables, too many chances for something to go wrong.

  This trip was my only chance to get a message to Lucy, otherwise I wouldn’t even be considering it. I forced myself to finish the cold beans, despite a sudden loss of appetite. I would need the energy later.

  We finished breakfast in silence. I was thinking about the task ahead and guessed the others were too. Sam had discovered a green Citroen in the garage last night but the vehicle we were most interested in was the farmer’s dark blue Land Rover Defender parked behind the house. The keys had been hanging on a hook by the back door.

  After formulating our plan, we had checked the fuel gauge on the Defender. The tank held enough petrol for what we had in mind.

  We all piled in. I got in the back with Sam while Tanya took the wheel and Jax sat beside her, map spread out on her lap.

  We drove down to the gate and I jumped out to open it and let the Land Rover through. I re-closed the gate, jumped back in, and we set off down the muddy track to the main road.

  “This is where we saw the herd,” Jax said, pointing to an area on the map, “and this is where we are now. If we take a left on the main road and the first left after that, we should be in the general vicinity. They might have moved but unless something caught their attention, they’re more likely to just wander around the same area for a while.”

  Tanya nodded. “How far is it to the marina from there?”

  Jax pointed at the map. “The marina’s here.”

  “Okay,” Tanya said, “let’s go and collect some zombies.”

  Dark clouds filled the sky. I hoped they weren’t an omen of bad luck.

  Or something worse.

  fourteen

  When we reached the area where we had seen the herd of zombies the day before, the first thing I noticed was a smell of burnt flesh. Even with the Land Rover’s windows closed, the stench was strong.

  “Jesus, Alex, you could have waited,” Sam joked, elbowing me lightly. I wondered if his attempt at humour covered a deeper fear of what we were about to attempt.

  Ahead of us, the Jeep Cherokee lay on its side, a black burned-out shell of metal. Around it was the charred remains of dead zombies. In the shadows beneath the trees on each side of the road, the rest of the herd stood staring at us with malevolent yellow eyes. They shambled towards us, letting out a collective moan of hunger, rage, or whatever it was they felt when they saw living people.

  The herd had thinned but there wer
e still enough of them for what we had in mind. When they reached the road and staggered closer to us, Tanya moved the Defender forwards slowly.

  The zombies followed.

  As we set off down the road with the undead shambling along behind, I wondered if our plan had a hope in hell of succeeding. We were going to lead the herd to the marina and create enough of a distraction to allow us to sneak into the marina shop and grab a set of boat keys.

  The keys to the marina’s hire boats were kept beneath the counter in the shop and numbered. Our plan was to grab a few sets of keys, find the correspondingly-numbered boats and take the one that was moored farthest out along the jetty to allow a faster escape.

  The plan sucked in so many ways.

  We were going to ditch the Land Rover before we got to the marina to make ourselves less conspicuous. That meant we would be exposed on foot between an army unit and a herd of zombies.

  For all we knew, the army might have taken the hire boat keys from the marina shop. Then we would be trapped with no boat and no vehicle.

  Even if we managed to get a key, the boat we chose could be out of fuel. That was doubtful since they were hire boats and therefore likely to be topped up but it was a possibility.

  Then, even if we got out to sea in a fuelled boat, we could easily be shot out of the water. I had seen a tank at the marina and the army probably had mortars set up there too. We could execute the plan perfectly only to be blown up as we got out on the waves.

  I told myself to stop being so pessimistic. It wasn’t like I had any other options. This plan had to work.

  I wished I was at sea now, safe in a boat, away from the shambling hordes of undead.

  They followed us along the road with hate burning in their yellow eyes. I wondered how aware they were. Did they have memories of their old lives? Or were their thoughts long gone, their bodies mindlessly reacting to stimuli in an attempt to spread the virus? The hateful glares made me think that there were some remnants of intelligence left in those rotting skulls, along with simple, dark emotions.

  I counted at least fifty of them lurching along behind us. More than enough to create chaos once we reached the marina.

  Sam looked at the rotting, walking dead and shook his head slowly. “They were once people like us, man. Now look at them. Monsters. This is why we have to tell everybody the truth about where the virus came from. Someone has to pay for causing this.”

  My own motives weren’t anywhere near as noble as Sam’s. I just wanted to find Lucy and get to the safety of The Big Easy. Then I could work on the problem of finding Joe and my parents. I wasn’t going to come ashore again until I knew exactly where to find my brother.

  If we got to the Survivor Radio station, there could be information about where he was. His message had been broadcast on Survivor Reach Out so somebody must know which camp the message came from.

  I wanted to learn Joe’s location and send a message to Lucy. The rest didn’t matter to me. Tanya, Jax and Sam were on a mission to save the country but just a glance at the nasties following us along the road told me the country was already fucked.

  If it was true that America was virus-free, then that was my ultimate destination. I wanted to sail there with Lucy, Joe and my parents. My lack of navigational skills meant I couldn’t guarantee if we would hit the coast of Florida or end up in Maine but anywhere was better than here. This place now belonged to the army and the virus. Let them fight it out. I wanted no part of it.

  It would be a couple of hours before we reached the marina at this speed. I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes. The dream of reaching America with my family and Lucy seemed too far away to even think about.

  I couldn’t think past the cold reality of our current situation.

  I had no idea where Lucy was.

  My family was trapped in an unknown Survivors Camp.

  We were driving to a marina guarded by the military.

  And our only weapon was a herd of fifty zombies.

  fifteen

  Almost two hours later, we reached the marina. The road we were on hit a crossroad ahead then carried on down a slope to the waterfront street where the marina shop was located.

  We could see the cliffs ahead and beyond them, the rough sea churned beneath dark clouds.

  Tanya looked at the zombie horde in the rear-view mirror. They still followed us. They were slow but relentless in their shambling pursuit. “We need to ditch the Land Rover,” she said. Her voice was tense.

  There was no sign of the army and we couldn’t see the beach without going to the edge of the cliff. We knew they were down there, though. We knew we were putting ourselves in danger if we went down there.

  We had to lead the zombies down the slope if we were going to create a diversion. Without the diversion, we had no way of stealing a boat.

  “Everyone, get ready to bail,” Tanya said tightly. She pressed the brake, stopped the Land Rover and got out.

  We all did the same. The zombies, seeing us on foot, moaned with hunger.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked. “Just walk down there?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Tanya arranged the straps on her backpack and set off towards the crossroads.

  The herd was getting closer.

  With the zombies behind us and the army in front of us, we were truly between a rock and a hard place. I felt my hands trembling. My mouth was dry and my stomach felt queasy. Why had I agreed to this?

  I held my baseball bat loosely, all too aware how useless it would be against guns.

  The zombies had reached the Land Rover. They skirted around it, showing no interest in the abandoned vehicle. Their glaring yellow eyes were fixed on us, their intended prey.

  “Let’s move,” Sam said, marching after Tanya.

  Jax and I quickened our pace and we caught up with Tanya. There was a tense atmosphere in the air and I knew it was because of the seriousness of our situation. We were walking into an outpost of soldiers who would not hesitate to shoot us.

  The order must have gone out to kill any civilians not in the camps. As far as the authorities were concerned, we may be alive now but we were probably going to get turned sooner or later. Better to kill us now and save the army having to fight us later when we joined the rotting ranks of the undead.

  We reached the crossroads. The road ahead dipped down to the sea. A small white sign had the words, “Beach Road” on it in raised black letters. In days gone by, that sign had probably brought joy to the faces of children who had come here on holiday. Now, it made me feel sick to my stomach.

  We descended the slope to the street below. I had an urge to run to the marina shop and grab all the boat keys there but we had to slow our pace to make sure all the nasties followed us.

  The street was deserted but I could see the beach beyond the shops. Soldiers milled about on the sand, guns slung over their shoulders. A collection of Land Rovers and APCs was parked on the asphalt and the sand.

  A shout went up and the sound of shots cracked the air.

  They had seen the undead herd.

  As they ran towards us, I led my companions along the street, past the supermarket and across the road to the marina shop.

  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, expecting to see the zombies shuffling towards the soldiers but the sight at the end of the street made my blood run cold.

  The zombies were heading for the shops, shambling in through the open doorways.

  They were easy targets for the soldiers.

  More shots rang along the street and the zombies started falling as head shots blew their rotted brains out through their decaying skulls.

  “Why aren’t they attacking the soldiers?” I whispered to Tanya.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, “but this isn’t creating a diversion at all. The soldiers are just picking them off. Why are the zombies taking cover?”

  Then everything became clear as a cold drop of water hit my arm, followed by another.

&n
bsp; Our plan had failed.

  It was raining.

  sixteen

  I pushed open the door of the shop and we got inside quickly, staying low and in the shadows. The shop was quiet and gloomy. I doubted anyone had been in here since I had hidden from the feral survivors.

  Outside, the rain came down with a vengeance, lashing against the windows and battering on the glass door.

  We sat in the darkness, leaning against the wall. An air of frustration hung over the group and it was completely understandable. We had spent hours luring zombies here to distract the military only to have them take cover from the rain and cause no problem at all for the soldiers.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked.

  “We could wait until it gets dark,” Jax suggested. “Sneak out there and try to get a boat before they spot us.”

  “Or just wait until the rain stops,” I said. “Those zombies will come pouring out of the shops. The soldiers will have to deal with them.”

  Tanya shook her head. “We’ve lost the element of surprise. They’ll deal with them easily now. Listen.”

  Beyond the windows, shots continued. The zombies were being destroyed as they took cover. Soon they would all be dead—our only advantage lost because of the weather.

  “So we’re trapped here,” I said.

  “This sucks, man,” Sam added.

  Tanya was quiet. She looked around the shop. “Does that door lead to the boats?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. There’s a gravel beach that leads down to the water. The boats are all out there, tied to the jetties.”

  She crept forward on her hands and knees and retrieved a small pair of black binoculars from the floor. Staying low, she shuffled to the windows that looked out over the marina and cautiously lifted her head. She frowned and brought the binoculars to her eyes, scanning the beach.

 

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