Whispers From The Dark by Bryan Hall Page A

was the first rain since last year.  He hurried out the door and onto the covered porch. 
    It was pouring; a heavy monsoon-like shower.  But something was wrong with the rain.  
    The water was dark brown.  It looked like it was filled with rust.   
    And it stunk, too; a moldy, musky smell that was laced with the scent of the dead bodies.  For some reason it reminded Cody of his father right before he'd died, wasting away in a hospital room that stank of death no matter how many antiseptic chemicals were poured on the floors. 
    Cody frowned and scanned the yard.  He returned to the living room and put on one of the surgical masks, then went back onto the porch.  “Pecker!  Come here, good boy!” 
    He whistled and waited. 
    The dog was nowhere to be seen.  The porch was only a few feet from the ground, and had no door or even a railing.  Pecker could have easily walked onto it and been in the dry.   
    His first instinct was that the smoke from the fire had made the rain look and smell that way.  But it hadn’t rained since last year, since before everyone else died in their sleep.  Who was to say that whatever happened to them wasn’t connected to the rain?  Cody decided that option was more likely.  It was easier on his conscience as well.  
    He called for Pecker again, then went to the back door and tried.  After ten minutes, Cody gave up and sat down in the recliner, worried.  The DVD he’d popped in did nothing to get his mind off the stinking, filthy rain or the dog that was outside in it.
    Every fifteen minutes he went to the porch, calling to no avail for Pecker.      
    At a quarter after midnight, the rain stopped.  Cody threw a large log into the wood stove, walked outside and turned off the generators.  The house plunged into darkness as he called for Pecker one last time and stood silent, listening for the dog. 
    Finally, he headed for bed. 
    Cody dreamed that he found Pecker.  The dog was lying dead in the woods, soaking wet and rotting and stinking just like all the people who once walked the earth.
     
     
    ***
     
    The sounds of barking and snarling woke him.  Cody jumped out of bed and ran to the front door, peering out the window beside it. 
    Pecker had come home.  But instantly Cody wished he hadn‘t. 
    Large patches of fur were missing from his body; the naked skin below was raw and festered with sores that oozed grey pus.  Here and there large swollen tumors protruded from his body like malformed limbs.  Black foam, streaked with red, frothed at the dog’s mouth.  What looked like dried blood was caked around his eyes, forming a dark paste that nearly matted them shut.   
    Pecker was pacing back and forth on the porch, snarling.  After every few steps he would face the house and bark menacingly, the black foam flying from his mouth and landing on the porch.
    “Jesus,” Cody whispered in horror.
    At the sound of his voice the dog stopped his restless pacing and whirled towards the window, charging towards it and barking, teeth bared.   
    Cody fell backwards onto the floor as Pecker jumped onto his hind legs, front paws landing on the window and smearing it with the foam he had been walking through.  The dog stared through the window, snarling at Cody and barking with rabid fury.    Miraculously, the glass didn’t shatter.  Cody pulled himself up and ran into the bedroom, grabbing the shotgun he kept by the bed.  He’d taken dozens of weapons and countless boxes of ammo from the stores around town, doubting that he would ever need them but figuring it was a good idea just in case. 
    He sat on the bed and checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. 
    He was sick to his stomach, not from last night’s liquor or from fear, but from the guilt creeping up inside of him.
    The rain had done this to the dog, Cody knew.  There could be no other explanation.  And what if the smoke from his macabre funeral pyre had changed the rain into the