Rain fell as if the world weeped for them. The water raged, waves splashing heavily against the sides of their small boat, knocking valuable supplies and weaponry into the murky water, tipping it back and forth dangerously. The duo were soaked to the skin, shivering as they quickly scraped their brains for a plan, removing their knapsacks from their backs and rifling through them. If one were able to peer under the water they would be met with a sight even more unnerving.
Someone had set an intricate trap crafted of wires and natural rock, acting as a net of some sort, and their boat had caught onto it, unable to continue. The trap had served its intended purpose, unfortunately for the two, and hundreds of decaying bodies swarmed beneath, fleshless arms and, sometimes fingerless, hands reached up, scraping the bottom of the boat. Their jaws slackened, opening and closing as they bumped into one another, causing more disturbance in the water, as if there wasn't enough already. Despite this, the wind was the worst of it all for the pair, the kind of wind that makes one want to howl back, constantly whipping their damp hair about their faces, hindering their sight.
The smaller of the two desperately searched the numerous pockets of his bag, finally finding the section that held their dwindling food supply and pulling out the last of it - a small, burlap bag that held all the meat they had scavenged on their way to the dock. It was still uncooked, and dripped with blood as he unwrapped it from the plastic they had carefully stored it in and tossed it into the churning waters. The maddening scratching beneath them stopped, and slowly numerous heads covered in matted, stringy hair, or just greenish, flaking flesh, began to rise from the water, heading on a right angle away from the boat and into shallower water, towards the floating, bleeding slabs several feet away.
The two retrieved what few things were left scattered across the slippery deck, stopping to shoot as many bobbing heads as they could, and packed the wet supplies into their bags quickly, firmly strapping them on. They both surveyed the water, which had turned cloudy and crimson with all the mixed blood, before diving into it with an almost inaudible splash, the heavy rain covering the sound. They surfaced, gasping for air as the boat behind them finally tipped with a groan; they took one more breath before submerging and swimming a loop around the horde, making for shore as stealthily as one could in this situation. When their feet could just touch the sandy floor beneath them they resurfaced and began to run out of the water, discarding stealth for a, hopefully, fast escape.
They dashed across the beach, kicking up sand that stuck to their old and tattered damp clothing like glue. Both pairs of eyes scanned the area, weathered minds dreading the fact they would have to enter the city. It was just their luck New York had been hit the hardest, and they were now stranded in it, no less in one of the most infested kinds of areas. They stopped when they were a safe distance from the water, the taller bending forward and leaning her hands on her knees as they both caught their breath.
But alas, fate would not allow them a moments rest today and both stomachs dropped as a cacophony of moans raised over the pounding rain to their left; as they turned they were met with a horde of undead that all but took up half the stretch of sand. The geeks moaned and thrashed, lunging towards the pair as they took off into the labyrinth of NYC, avoiding main streets and weaving through back alleys instead, attempting to lose the deadly wave behind them.
They made a sharp right down an alley that few staggering undead occupied, eight heads turning towards them. They both pulled their close range weapons from their packs - the male wielding a machete caked with dried blood, his partner a battle-weathered, recently cleaned hunting knife. They moved out like soldiers, taking down the closest ones with ease. As the others shuffled towards them the horde turned the corner, squeezing down the small alley, quickly zeroing in on the two. The male sunk a good inch of his blade into the skull of a lunging zombie with a sickening crack just as his comrades victim made a similar noise, followed by a decaying anatomy hitting the ground with a dull thud.
"Mo! In here!" she called over the deafening noise of both horde and ever vigilant rain, plus the added moans of the four remaining Z's in front of them; she wrenched open the door of a seemingly deserted and dark gas station, pulling her partner in before shutting and barring it with a nearby 2x4. They pressed themselves against the wall tightly, sticking to the shadows and holding their breath as the horde stumbled right by, chasing ghosts. Less than a minute later the dragging of feet and low guttural sounds faded.
All was still.
Silent.
The male, Morgan, looked up at his panting comrade beside him, tightening a strap on his bag that had been loosened in the chaos, speaking abit breathlessly.
"Hey Batsy, think there are any burgers in this place?"