Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm Read Online Free Page B
me. Either way, I’d be dead. Better a quick bullet in the head than to get locked up like a sardine in a can, waiting for the zombies to arrive.
After half an hour of slow, tense driving, the mountains were replaced by woods. I saw a large wooden gate on the right and a dirt road that led beyond it into the trees. I pulled over, left the engine running, and got out to take a closer look.
The gate was held shut by a metal bolt but there were no locks. The road beyond disappeared into the trees. Maybe there was a house up there, a farm, or a herd of zombies. I had no idea. At least I would be off the main road. I slid the bolt back and swung the gate open.
After driving through, I closed it behind me and replaced the bolt. Getting back in the Astra quickly, I drove along the bumpy, narrow road, constantly checking the rear-view mirror and windows for trouble. The trees crowded close to the sides of the road and I half-expected a horde of the undead to come staggering out in front of me or crash through the trees and thrust their blue-skinned hands through the windows, clawing me with deadly nails.
Neither of those things happened. After a few minutes, the road took me out of the trees and through overgrown farmland inhabited by cows. A wooden sign nailed to a fencepost said “Mason’s Farm”.
The house was ahead, a two-storey stone building that looked deserted. There was a weather-worn wooden barn behind the house but no other buildings that I could see. No neighbours. The fields were bordered by trees and a wire fence on one side and mountains on the other. Remote. Isolated.
Perfect. If it was empty.
I stopped by the side of the house and sat in the car with the engine running. I lowered my window all the way and listened. Over the idling engine, all I could hear was birds in the trees and the breeze rustling through the grass. The air smelled of grass and manure and that was just fine.
I hit the button again and as the window whirred up, I picked up my baseball bat from the passenger seat.
I turned the engine off, got out, locked the car and pocketed the key. Standing there for a moment in the brightening morning sun, I listened again to my surroundings.
Nothing to indicate the presence of people or nasties. Seemed like it was just me, the cows, and the birds. Of course there could be a gang of killers waiting inside. They could be hiding behind the front door after seeing my approach along the dirt road.
Or it could be that when I opened the door, a wall of stench would hit me, followed by shambling undead.
Either way, I was opening the door. I didn’t have too many options right now and I didn’t want to go back to the main road.
I walked up to the brown wooden front door and knocked, gripping the bat tightly in my other hand. If there were people inside—living, friendly people—there was no harm in showing them I wasn’t a bandit come to kill them. And I wasn’t giving myself away by knocking; the house overlooked the dirt road and the Astra wasn’t quiet.
No answer.
I listened, willing my senses to reach beyond the door into the house beyond but either the place was empty or my listening skills hadn’t taken on superhuman powers.
Silence.
The door handle was made of brass, polished and worn from plenty of use over the years. I pulled it down.
The latch opened with a click and the door swung inwards.
I took a step back. I hadn’t expected the place to be unlocked.
A gloomy hallway led into the house. There were pictures on the wall that looked like framed family photographs. The air smelled musty, as if the house had been closed up for a while, but there was no sickening taint of rotting flesh.
I stepped inside, bat held ready.
Nothing jumped out at me, no hands reached for me.
My heart was beating so loudly it felt like it was in my ears and I was sweating and shaking. I closed the front door.
From one of the framed photos, the Mason family looked down at me with smiles on
After half an hour of slow, tense driving, the mountains were replaced by woods. I saw a large wooden gate on the right and a dirt road that led beyond it into the trees. I pulled over, left the engine running, and got out to take a closer look.
The gate was held shut by a metal bolt but there were no locks. The road beyond disappeared into the trees. Maybe there was a house up there, a farm, or a herd of zombies. I had no idea. At least I would be off the main road. I slid the bolt back and swung the gate open.
After driving through, I closed it behind me and replaced the bolt. Getting back in the Astra quickly, I drove along the bumpy, narrow road, constantly checking the rear-view mirror and windows for trouble. The trees crowded close to the sides of the road and I half-expected a horde of the undead to come staggering out in front of me or crash through the trees and thrust their blue-skinned hands through the windows, clawing me with deadly nails.
Neither of those things happened. After a few minutes, the road took me out of the trees and through overgrown farmland inhabited by cows. A wooden sign nailed to a fencepost said “Mason’s Farm”.
The house was ahead, a two-storey stone building that looked deserted. There was a weather-worn wooden barn behind the house but no other buildings that I could see. No neighbours. The fields were bordered by trees and a wire fence on one side and mountains on the other. Remote. Isolated.
Perfect. If it was empty.
I stopped by the side of the house and sat in the car with the engine running. I lowered my window all the way and listened. Over the idling engine, all I could hear was birds in the trees and the breeze rustling through the grass. The air smelled of grass and manure and that was just fine.
I hit the button again and as the window whirred up, I picked up my baseball bat from the passenger seat.
I turned the engine off, got out, locked the car and pocketed the key. Standing there for a moment in the brightening morning sun, I listened again to my surroundings.
Nothing to indicate the presence of people or nasties. Seemed like it was just me, the cows, and the birds. Of course there could be a gang of killers waiting inside. They could be hiding behind the front door after seeing my approach along the dirt road.
Or it could be that when I opened the door, a wall of stench would hit me, followed by shambling undead.
Either way, I was opening the door. I didn’t have too many options right now and I didn’t want to go back to the main road.
I walked up to the brown wooden front door and knocked, gripping the bat tightly in my other hand. If there were people inside—living, friendly people—there was no harm in showing them I wasn’t a bandit come to kill them. And I wasn’t giving myself away by knocking; the house overlooked the dirt road and the Astra wasn’t quiet.
No answer.
I listened, willing my senses to reach beyond the door into the house beyond but either the place was empty or my listening skills hadn’t taken on superhuman powers.
Silence.
The door handle was made of brass, polished and worn from plenty of use over the years. I pulled it down.
The latch opened with a click and the door swung inwards.
I took a step back. I hadn’t expected the place to be unlocked.
A gloomy hallway led into the house. There were pictures on the wall that looked like framed family photographs. The air smelled musty, as if the house had been closed up for a while, but there was no sickening taint of rotting flesh.
I stepped inside, bat held ready.
Nothing jumped out at me, no hands reached for me.
My heart was beating so loudly it felt like it was in my ears and I was sweating and shaking. I closed the front door.
From one of the framed photos, the Mason family looked down at me with smiles on
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