Rain, Mud, and Crawlers

"Everyone, push harder!"

The downpour had come out of nowhere, catching the convoy completely off guard as they traveled along a dirt road.

The once-dry ground quickly turned into a thick stretch of black mud. With the trucks fully loaded, the heavy wheels sank deep into the sludge. Jason and the others jumped out, struggling in the storm to push the vehicle forward.

"Push harder!" Jason shouted, teeth clenched as he gave it everything he had.

Henry, their strongest man, braced himself and heaved with all his might—but even that wasn't enough. The wheels wouldn't budge.

The rain only got worse. Sheets of water slammed into them, blinding their vision and drowning out their voices. They couldn't see each other, let alone hear over the roar of the storm.

"We're not getting out of this!"

Shane wiped mud from his face and yelled to Jason, "The truck's too heavy. The tires are buried deep. We need something to wedge under them, or we're stuck for good!"

Jason squinted through the rain and shouted back, "Then find a tree! Cut it down and bring it here!"

They couldn't afford to leave the truck behind. Worse, if they tried to accelerate without fixing the problem, the wheels would dig even deeper. The truck held most of their weapons and ammunition—if water got in, it could ruin everything.

The women stayed inside the vehicles, unable to help but clearly anxious. They watched helplessly as the others struggled in the relentless downpour.

The sky had been bright just moments earlier—then, without warning, clouds rolled in like a curtain dropping, and the storm unleashed itself.

Bang!

A gunshot tore through the air.

Jason's eyes went wide. He instinctively tried to locate the source, but the rain was so intense, he had to squint just to keep it out of his eyes.

"Damn it—zombies! Everyone, stay sharp!"

Shane came running back, drenched and clutching a piece of wood. He was the one who'd fired the shot. The rain had stung so badly, he could barely keep his eyes open. In that moment of vulnerability, a zombie had lunged at him and knocked him to the ground.

Thankfully, Shane had fast reflexes. He drew his pistol and fired before it was too late. If he hadn't, he might've been torn apart—hidden in the storm, lost in the mud, and no one would've known until it was too late.

No one could figure out where the zombies were coming from. In rain this heavy, the undead were getting knocked down, slipping, and crawling through the muck instead of walking. It made them harder to spot—and creepier to encounter.

With Shane's warning, the group spread out and left the back of the truck, not wanting to become easy targets.

"I see one!"

Rick's voice pierced through the noise. Ahead of him, a shadowy figure crawled across the ground at an unnerving speed. The zombie couldn't stand—but crawling? It moved faster than it ever had walking.

"Move!"

Morgan didn't hesitate. Knife in hand, he lunged forward and slashed hard, carving off half of the zombie's head in a single blow.

The downpour immediately washed away the gore—thankfully sparing everyone a gruesome sight.

"Two people on guard. The rest—back to the truck!" Jason ordered. "We need to move—fast."

They couldn't waste another second. Who knew how many more crawlers were hiding in the grass?

Using the wood Shane had gathered, Jim and the others quickly shoved planks under the tires and worked together. After several agonizing minutes, the truck finally lurched forward and broke free.

The convoy continued, but this time they veered off onto the grass, avoiding the slippery mud road entirely.

The rain didn't let up until well past midnight.

Eventually, they found a safe clearing and set up camp.

As the night wore on, the temperature plummeted—like winter had come all at once. Several children huddled together, shivering from the cold. The group quickly lit fires and began cooking hot soup to warm them up.