It’s been raining for two days straight, and I’m afraid to go out. I’ve seen what those torrents do to people who venture outside. Cascades of water sweep down the street, and the rain itself is dangerous as hell. I have cabin fever. We all do. But those who succumb to it and try to make a break for it never even make it as far as their cars — for all the good it would do. The cars themselves are ruins. The tires are sludge, the paint peeled back, the metal and plastic warped beyond recognition. I’m not sure what makes anyone think it would do any good, other than the fact that they’re desperate for escape.
But the people — oh, the people themselves. The horrors of what that rain does to them the moment they step into it. Their skin turns black like soot and growths sprout not only from their exposed skin but from their bodies covered in cloth — and even plastic sheeting. The rain makes no distinction between the two.
There are human husks wandering the streets now, and it’s all this damn rain’s fault.
