DEAD RAIN: A Tale of the Zombie Apocalypse Read Online Free PDF

the deputy wielding the hefty cutters. The chain fell free and the Sheriff pushed the gate open. The wretched groan of its hinges sounded like a chorus of angels to Emma’s ears.
    She dashed for the opening, and the Sheriff reached out to pull her through. But his touch was jolting, as hot and painful as a hornet sting. Her mouth opened to cry out—but her tongue froze and her throat clenched tightly. Her knees turned to jelly and suddenly she was falling, tumbling helplessly onto her back.
    Only then did she see what the Sheriff was holding in his hand. A stun gun, with black plastic casing and two metal probes.
    Her eyes fluttered in disbelief. She attempted to speak but her mouth was numb. She couldn’t move a muscle.
    The deputy stepped up next to the Sheriff. Staring at Emma blankly, they pulled the heavy gate closed and reattached the chain, snapping the large padlock shut.
    “Sorry, honey,” the Sheriff spoke gently. “But granny has to eat.” He triggered the stun gun, grinning as an arc of electricity zapped mockingly across its probes.
    The gawky young deputy gave Emma a regretful look, and both men turned away. She lay frozen on the ground, her muscles paralyzed, unable to even turn her head to follow. She heard the hurried crunching of their footsteps on loose gravel and the slamming of their car doors and then their engines roaring and fading, zooming away in reverse as if the snaky access road was tattooed on their brains.
    Now there was deathly silence, broken only by the rhythmic squishin g of the old woman’s footsteps. Limping closer and closer. Six inches at a time.
    Emma twitched—a reflexive spasm that caused her head to loll sideways, facing the old woman—who was slowly descending to her knees beside her.
    Emma smelled her foul corpse odor before she saw her hideous face, moving closer and closer to her own. She tried to summon the strength to roll away, but her muscles wouldn’t respond.
    As sheer terror washed over her, Emma could only stare at the woman’s delicate skull, covered with papery gray flesh and strands of snowy hair. Her withered lips were locked open, framing shrunken gums and primitive dentures, sealed in place by clots of blood.
    Then the stinking breath descended like a poison cloud and Emma could only whimper and close her eyes, as the thin white hair brushed her cheek and the ancient dentures closed gently over her nose.

 
     
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    With an ear-splitting crack like a home run off a hickory bat, the old woman’s head was suddenly gone.
    Emma lay still as a statue, frozen with fear and confusion and the lingering effects of the stun gun. The black-draped twig of a once human body dropped to the ground beside her, torn tendons and veins and windpipe jutting from its gaping neck-hole.
    “ Emma, get up! Let’s go!”
    Emma ’s heart danced as she saw Russell standing over her, holding the old brass lamp. Bits of snowy white hair clung to its marble base. She tried to raise her arms but was still too weak, her muscles a rubbery mess.
    Russell grabbed her wrists and yanked her to her feet. “We have to get out here. Come on.”
    Emma took a step and nearly fell to her knees. Russell caught her by the waist and held her up, then placing a strong arm around her he half-dragged her towards the Ford.
    “Buddy… he’s…” She barely managed to wheeze out the words.
    “I know,” said Russell softly. “He’s gone. And we will be too if we don’t get the hell out of here.”
    A lanky figure staggered towards them. It was the man in black who Emma first saw when they arrived at the unholy place. His emaciated frame was covered by a loose-fitting suit, its old-fashioned lapels encrusted with burnt umber splotches of blood. His cheekbones were visible through holes in his mold-covered skin.
    Russell swung the lamp overhead, like a roustabout driving a railroad spike. The man’s head flattened like a stomped egg. He stood wobbling for a moment, his skull