Resurrection: A Zombie Novel (27 page)

Hughes tapped on the door. “Coming in.” He couldn’t whisper anymore and expect to be heard over the downpour, so he spoke at regular volume.

Parker didn’t even see the door open. It was too dark. Which meant those things wouldn’t have seen it even if they were out there on the porch.

Maybe that’s exactly what they were doing. Gathering on the porch and pressing their faces and hands against the front glass. The windows were not boarded up. They could come right in if that’s what they wanted. How long until they got sick of the cold and the rain and some dimwitted switch flipped in their heads that made them remember,
Oh yeah, houses. Houses are dry!

If a band of those things opened the front door and shambled on in, Parker wasn’t sure he’d hear them over the sound of the rain. They’d just
be
in the house.

As far as he knew, that had already happened.

Somebody should have brought back the night vision.

“You see anything?” Parker said to Hughes.

“They’re still out there,” Hughes said. “Wandering aimlessly. They don’t seem to mind getting rained on. Probably won’t be many left in the world this time next year. Not in this part of the world, anyway.”

“But this time
this
year,” Parker said, “we’re trapped on Kyle’s little island of horrors.”

“Now’s our best chance to get out of here,” Hughes said.

Heat bloomed in Parker’s chest. “And go where?”

“The boat,” Hughes said. “Where else?”

I’m not doing that, Parker thought. I am not. Doing that.

Not in the dark.

“They won’t see us,” Hughes said. “It’s raining so hard they won’t hear us, either, so we need to go before it stops.”

Now?

No.

Parker couldn’t do it. No way. Assuming he even made it down to the water before getting bitten, he couldn’t possibly jump in the sea and swim to the boat in the dark. He wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t even see silhouettes. Not at night in a rainstorm. He might as well go out there blindfolded.

If he didn’t get bitten, he’d freeze or he’d drown.

That water was so cold, he’d sink to the bottom in minutes if he got lost. And it was raining so hard, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to tell which way was up.

“Can’t,” he said.

“Yes, you can,” Annie said.

“No, really, I can’t.”

“Then stay here,” Kyle said. “The rest of us are going. And we need to go now.”

Jesus, they really were going to do it. Why in the hell didn’t they just wait in the house until morning? The house was only a couple hundred feet from the water. If they timed it right, they could probably make it. Hughes had his rifle and could shoot at least some of them. The others had crowbars and hammers.

“Let’s go in the morning,” Parker said, “when we can see where we’re going.”

“The whole point,” Hughes said, “is to go when we can’t see because they can’t see either. And with this rain coming down, they won’t hear us.”

“We should fan out when we hit the water,” Annie said. “First one to find the boat hollers out.”

“You people are crazy,” Parker said.

“Those things,” Hughes said, “could bust into this house any second.”

“The bathroom door has a lock,” Parker said. “They can’t get in. And they won’t even try if they don’t know we’re here.”

“What makes you sure they won’t figure out that we’re here?” Hughes said. “Or that they won’t come inside and just camp out there in the living room?”

“We go out there, we die,” Parker said.

“We stay in here, we die,” Hughes said.

“This is your fault, Kyle,” Parker said.

“
My
fault,” Kyle said.

“We should have checked the whole island before we got off that boat,” Parker said.

“Agreed,” Hughes said. “But it’s not Kyle’s fault. It’s my fault. I should have insisted.”

“It’s Kyle’s fault,” Parker said.

“You can all blame me later,” Kyle said, “after we’re safe.”

Parker noticed they’d raised their voices, not in anger but because the rain was coming down even harder. It sounded like a Pineapple Express coming ashore. The Pacific Northwest gets storms like that all the time in the autumn and winter. The weather forecasters called these storms atmospheric rivers, and that’s exactly what the storm sounded like—a river pouring onto the roof of the house. It was going to rain like that for hours. The sea must be boiling. The perfect place to drown in the dark.

“So here’s what we do,” Hughes said.

“Fuck,” Parker said.

“Stay here and die then,” Kyle said. “The hell do we care?”

“So here’s what we do,” Hughes said again. “We go out the front, and we go out quietly. We walk. We don’t run, we walk. And keep low. There might be just enough light in the sky that we’ll form silhouettes if we don’t stay low. Should only take us a minute or two to get to the water. It’s a straight shot, okay? That street goes directly down to the shore, so we won’t get lost if we stay on the pavement. If you’re spotted or grabbed, run. Don’t scream, don’t yell out to the others, just run. But do yell if you’re the first one to the boat. I don’t think our voices will carry as far as the beach from out there in this rain, but if so, who cares? We’ve got lights and guns on the boat.”

“I don’t have a weapon,” Parker said.

“You should have brought one,” Hughes said. “But you don’t need one.”

“The hell I don’t,” Parker said. “You all have weapons.”

“I’m not going to shoot in the dark,” Hughes said. “We’re not swinging crowbars in the dark, either. We’d take our own heads off.”

“Actually,” Annie said. “Maybe we should. One of us should go out swinging ahead of the others to clear a path on the road.”

“You hit one of those things in the shoulder,” Hughes said, “and it’s going to scream. Then we’re well and truly fucked. And you might still hit one of us in the head. Too easy to get turned around and confused out there.”

“Please wait until morning,” Parker said. His voice sounded pathetic even to himself. The others knew how scared he was now, but he didn’t care.

“This will be over in five minutes,” Hughes said. “Two minutes to get to the water and three minutes to swim. The boat has a propane heater. We’ll warm up and we’ll be okay. Five minutes.”

Parker put his hand on his face and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

“Fine,” he said. “Okay.”

He didn’t say “okay” because he thought Hughes’ plan was sound. He said “okay” because he’d rather die with the others than all by himself.

This could go one of two ways. He’d either be torn up by teeth on the road or he’d panic and drown in the water. Toss a coin. One or the other.

And if he gets only partly ripped up by teeth, he’ll die twice. The first time from biting, the second from drowning.

*   *   *

Darkness filled the house so absolutely that Parker couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed except by feel. He groped his way out of the bathroom and into the hallway, poking Annie in the neck and elbowing Frank in the ear.

“Sorry,” he said.

Somebody banged into a wall.

Parker could navigate his own house well enough in the dark, “seeing” it in his memory. That, he figured, was how blind people got around, only they’d learned to “see” a much wider swath of the world than their own bedroom and hallway. But Parker did not know this house. Nor did he know the streets outside. He’d have to feel his way hundreds of feet to the water on a street full of predators. And if by God he made it that far, he’d have to “feel” his way to the boat.

Drowning or teeth? Which one was worse? Getting chewed up would hurt more, but sinking into a dark sea where his body would never be found, his lungs filling with burning saltwater, frightened him more than anything else in the world.

Maybe he should just run. Run like he’s on fire, throw himself into the water, and swim toward the boat so fast and so hard that nothing could possibly catch him. He might get lucky and bang into it. Then he could pull himself up the aluminum ladder. It could work. He had a very small chance of making it.

But only if he ran. Because otherwise he’d panic and freeze.

“Don’t run,” Hughes said when they got to the living room. “We’ll only make it if we go slowly.”

Every cell in Parker’s body screamed bullshit. This was flight time. But on some level he knew Hughes was thinking more clearly. He probably did have a better chance of survival if he emptied his mind and did exactly what Hughes told him. Just surrender. Surrender to the plan and don’t think about it. Just do it.

He took a deep breath.

The rain sounded louder, clearer, and closer when Hughes opened the door. Parker could just make out a swath of dull gray light overhead. That was the sky. There were no stars, only clouds, and there was no ambient light from a city in any direction to light up the underside of the clouds.

Parker could not see the street. He could not see any houses. He could not see the porch he knew was in front of him. He could not see the steps he’d have to descend. He could not see the rain thundering down onto everything.

Nor could he see those
things
he knew still wandered around out there. He’d never make it all the way to the water without bumping into at least one of them. And then what?

He’d shit himself to death, that’s what.

“Take it slow,” Hughes said quietly. “And remember. No yelling until you get to the boat.”

When he crossed the porch, Parker saw the water. It looked like a faint gray splotch below the slightly lighter gray sky. He could make out no details, let alone the boat. He saw only the faintest possible shade of gray and exploding purple and black shapes on his retinas, the same dark kaleidoscope he saw while falling asleep.

When his feet found the first step leading down to the sidewalk, a torrent of rainwater lashed his face, chest, and arms, soaking and freezing him instantly as if he stood in a cold shower. Water even got in his nose.

And the noise was incredible, like a 100,000 hands slapping the ground. It came from every direction and made him dizzy. He struggled against the urge to sit on the steps.

Instead he reached out in front of him and found Hughes’ back. He grabbed onto the man’s shoulders, but Hughes turned and told him to let go.

“We’re more likely to bump into those things if we don’t split up,” Hughes said. Was that really true? “Just stay on the road and take it slow.”

Somebody shushed them. Parker thought it was Annie, but he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t even certain he heard somebody shushing them, the rain was so loud. Maybe that’s all he heard.

Those things were out there. They could be three feet in front of him. One foot in front of him. Three inches in front of him. How would he know? It was like stepping out into a minefield. A living, breathing, moving minefield with fangs that would take him apart as thoroughly as a Claymore.

He almost fell forward when he reached the sidewalk and expected more stairs. Someone—or some
thing
—bumped into him from behind. “Just me,” Annie said and gently pushed him.

He was going to lose his mind before he got to the water. The infected were everywhere, swarming around in the dark. Maybe they could see better. Maybe they could hear better. Maybe they could smell better. They could certainly fight better against an unarmed man. All they had to do was bite Parker just once and he’d be finished.

Actually, if they bit him just once, he would join them. Good God. Talk about an advantage. If only
that
dynamic could be reversed. If healthy people could “tag” the infected and cure them, the human race could increase its numbers. And its advantage.

He’d rather drown or be eaten than get bitten and turn. That much he knew. But the water was still so far away. Hundreds of feet away. There could be twenty of those things between him and the shore.

Parker swallowed hard and froze. He couldn’t move in any direction. Annie bumped into him again, but this time he stepped out of her way and then stopped again. He blinked his eyes, squinted as hard as he could, but saw nothing. He heard only rain.

In a detached way, he realized he was freezing, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t important. His body shook and it shuddered, but he couldn’t walk. His heart pounded in overdrive. His breathing grew faster and shallower. He couldn’t get enough oxygen. He’d faint if he didn’t get more, but he couldn’t. The air was drenched in water. He already felt like he was in the sea.
Was
he in the sea? Did he make it to the shore already? Was it time to swim?

No, he was still on the street. Wasn’t he?

God, what was happening?

He no longer knew which direction he was supposed to be going. He could hardly even stay upright. His head felt like it was caught in a whirlpool and his stomach fluttered they way it did when he leaned too far back in a chair. He bent his knees and reached for the ground.

Squatted. Placed his hands on the pavement. There was a good half-inch of water pouring over the street. His fingertips found gravel and grit.

Then someone bumped into him. He didn’t know who it was. Annie again most likely. But he smelled the stench of body odor and heard a deep guttural exhale, a half-grunt, half-sigh that sounded like it came from an animal.

Oh God. It was one of those things.

One of those things had just walked right into him.

He scrambled on all fours and ended up slipping and rolling onto his back. Water poured into his eyes and his nose. He jammed his eyes shut and blew out his breath.

No idea where that thing was. It seemed to have vanished. The feeling of panic ebbed slightly. He could think again.

He was on the street. And he had to
move
. He needed to stand. Walk to the water. Swim to the boat.

Shit. The others could be there by now. How long had he been standing there? They wouldn’t leave him, would they? And where was that
thing
that had just walked into him?

He stood up. And bumped into another one. It grunted. Its breath smelled like a carcass. It grabbed Parker’s arms with cold hands.

He screamed.