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

stuffing their faces, filling their cheeks with prodigious bites of cold cuts and veggies and good crusty bread.
    Happy that they were satisfied, Mary Ellen checked the trash container under the kitchen sink. Candy wrappers and banana peels s pilled from the top of the can. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Is it too much trouble to help with the trash?”
    “Sorry,” Ryan mumbled through a mouthful of half-chewed sandwi ch. “I f’got it was trash day.”
    Sighing wearily, Mary Ellen gathered the edges of the trash bag and tugg ed it carefully out of the can.
    “I’ll get it,” said Ryan contritely, making a half-hearted effort to rise from the couch.
    “Forget it. Eat.” Opening the door she stepped outside. The fog was thicker than before, the October air frigid and damp. She thought about getting her coat, but with the trash already in hand she decided to make a quick run to the curb and hurry back inside.
    Hurrying across the slippery dew-soaked lawn she deposited the trash bag at the edge of the road and paused to catch her breath. Jesus I really need to hit the gym.
    Something moved in the bushes across the road, in a tract of protected woodland. Whatever it was, it seemed big—rustling heavy shrubs as it moved.
    Mary Ellen peered through the fog and shivered. It wasn’t just the cold weather; a creepy instinctive feeling took hold of her. She lingered a moment longer, scanning the woods for a glimpse of whatever or whoever was there, then turned and scurried back to the house.
    She stopped in her tracks halfway there. Someone was standing in the shadows, just beyond the light spilling from the half-open front door.
    “Hello?” she called out. “Can I help you?”
    The shadowy figure turned to face her. It was a man, moving with an unsteady gait, as if he was confused, or possibly injured or drunk.
    Something about him was vaguely unnerving. Mary Ellen thought he might be an elderly man with Alzheimer’s, who had somehow gotten out and got lost in the fog. But there was an equal chance he was a prowler, and no telling what he might be after. Stragglers were rare in the area, but the influx of New Yorkers migrating southward as that city became too expensive and the NYPD began enforcing heavy-handed policies had brought a n influx of strangers and a rise in the local crime rate.
    Mary Ellen paused to gather her courage, then decided she needed to act boldly and with confidence. She strode towards the front door, ready to shout for Ryan if she had to. As she drew closer she kept a wary eye on the stranger, hoping he was just some harmless vagrant looking for scrap to salvage. It is trash night, after all, she assured herself.
    The man stepped forward as if to intercept her.
    Mary Ellen paused as he blocked her way. “I said, can I help you?” she called firmly, her voice a bit louder than necessary in hopes of intimidating the stranger and alerting her teenaged son through the open door. But the blaring sounds of Kevin’s videogame spilling from the house told her she’d probably have to scream her lungs out to bring anyone to the rescue.
    The shadowy man stepped closer, growing more solid and real in the swirling mist.
    “What, are you deaf?” Mary Ellen challenged, her heart beating quicker and her nerves flaring. “What are you doing here? This is private property.”
    Suddenly the man was right in front of her. His sudden lurching movement disturbed the fog, unveiling his countenance. Mary Ellen’s throat clenched as she saw his disheveled suit and the cold look in his eyes. He seemed torpid and dreary, but there was something incongruously feral about him. Something vaguely predatory in his manner.
    “Ryan!” She stepped back as the stranger took a wavering step forward, raising his arms to grab her. “Ryan, ge t out here!” she yelled louder.
    She took another step back—and felt a hot jolt of terror as someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed and tried to wrestle free—but as she broke