Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  “Sam! The gun!” he cried.

  Sam scrambled away. Dan could hear him searching the floor for the pistol, frantic. The others had run into the room, and his daughter was calling his name.

  “Stay back, Quinn!” he yelled.

  Delta hovered above him now. A shiny object gleamed in her hands and she thrust it downwards into the creature. It writhed in agony. Dan shoved it off and rolled sideways. He felt around the carpet, finally locating the pistol, and turned back in the direction of the thing.

  “Everybody out of the way!”

  Dan fired off a round, hitting his mark. The figure pitched backwards onto the floor, gave one last heave, and then grew still.

  The sound of the gunshot resonated throughout the office. Dan covered his ears and waited for the ringing to subside. After a few seconds, his hearing returned. The creature was no longer hissing; it had gone silent.

  All that remained was the frightened breathing of his companions.

  Winters lay flat on his back, wedging a jack underneath the frame of the SUV. His face was red and covered in sweat, and he was swearing violently at no one in particular. Brown stood guard a few feet away, scanning the road.

  They had broken down in the center of St. Matthews. Brown had never been there before, but he could tell by the signage. A white banner stretched between two lampposts overhead, announcing one of the town’s upcoming events: New Water System Ribbon Cutting, August 15th.

  Winters noticed him looking at the sign.

  “That’s how we infected most of the townspeople. Through their new water supply.”

  If only they had known, Brown thought grimly.

  Even if the people in St. Matthews had discovered the contaminant, it wouldn’t have saved them. The chemical been placed in several other food sources, as well. At least, that’s what Brown had been told. He surveyed the scene, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Abandoned cars littered the sides of the road; their doors left open, windows smashed. One had been driven through the storefront of a commercial building, the driver nowhere in sight. The sidewalk was carpeted with newspapers and trash: old clothes left behind, books and papers cast aside, phones and electronics discarded.

  Most of the buildings had been compromised as well. Almost every door hung open, and many of the windows had been unlatched on upper floors, curtains and shades blowing into the street outside. He wondered if anyone were holed up inside them.

  Most were probably already dead.

  In the beginning, the Agent leaders had said that the infection was unavoidable—that there would be no survivors. The initial reports had been amended later. They had since learned that a small number of residents might have escaped the contaminants—people who were thought to be resistant.

  It was Brown’s job to flush them out and eliminate them. Clearly, Jameson and Winters were better suited for the job.

  He glanced back at his partner. Winters had emerged from underneath the vehicle, cranked the jack. The car inched upwards, the flat tire now suspended in mid-air. Brown had a sudden vision that the SUV would come crashing down, pinning his companion.

  He could then escape this town and remove himself from all that had happened here. It sickened him to be a part of it.

  “I’ll call Jameson in a minute. Maybe he caught up with them,” Winters said.

  Brown was hardly listening. Movement up the road distracted him, and he trained his rifle on the source—a building about a block away. It looked like a convenience store. Something was moving inside. Something alive. Brown could make out a figure through the front glass window—one of the few that hadn’t been shattered.

  He walked a few paces ahead, finger on the trigger. Winters didn’t seem to notice. Up ahead, the figure continued to pace back and forth inside the convenience store.

  “Brown! Where the fuck are you going?”

  Brown stopped in his tracks, swiveled to look behind him.

  “I think somebo—“

  The store window exploded, and shards of glass scattered across the sidewalk. Brown turned and saw a figure lunging toward him with its arms outstretched. It didn’t look human.

  “Fuck!” he yelled.

  The thing’s tongue dangled from its mouth, its face cut and bleeding from the glass, eyes wide and black. It let out a guttural screech as it hurtled toward him, closing the gap between the convenience store and the SUV. Brown fired.

  Bullets punctured the thing’s chest and arms, but it continued, barely fazed. It was fifteen feet away now—close enough for Brown to see several gaping holes where its teeth had once been.

  Brown aimed for the head and fired several shots into its skull. The creature fell suddenly, its head slapping the pavement, pulverized. Its body slid several more feet before stopping, as if it were still trying to get to him.

  “Holy shit,” Brown muttered. Words did little justice to what he had just seen.

  He turned around to face the SUV. Winters was still on the ground cranking the jack. The two met eyes for a second, and then Winters returned to the tire.

  Dan dragged the body across the office by the legs, leaving a trail of blood and innards on the carpet. As he did so, Sam cracked the blinds, allowing a stream of sunlight into the room. Dan looked down and recognized the corpse immediately.

  The body belonged to Leonard Fullman, his wife’s former boss.

  Dan could tell by the tweed jacket, the polished leather shoes. The man’s face looked like a warped version of what he remembered—wrinkled, ashen, covered in scabs. The bullet had penetrated his skull an inch above his brow-line. Dan’s shot had been accurate, even in the dark.

  Even so, it didn’t make him feel any better.

  He slid the body into a far corner of the main room behind one of the desks, hoping to spare his daughter further exposure to it. When he was finished, Dan returned to the office where his companions had gathered.

  From the looks of it, Leonard had been hiding here for a while—perhaps since the infection had started. A pile of neatly folded clothes lay on the desk, and the office shelves contained a small supply of food. A tire iron lay on the floor beneath the window. Apparently Leonard hadn’t needed to use it. He must have been infected before he got the chance.

  The group scoured the room for anything else of use.

  “I found something,” Delta said. She pointed to a piece of paper that had been affixed to the desktop, each corner stapled to the wood.

  Dan leaned over her shoulder, reading the note in silence.

  “God, please forgive me for what I have done. I had no choice. Helen, I am so sorry. If someone finds this letter and I am dead, please bury me next to my wife. Signed, Leonard Walter Fullman.”

  Dan swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried to dispel thoughts of Julie. He knew all too well what Leonard must have gone through.

  He found himself wishing he could heed the dead man’s request—that he could bury Leonard next to his wife, wherever she was. At the same time, he knew it would be impossible.

  In this new world, there would be no last meal, no dying wish.

  The only reward left was to survive another day.

  Dan took his daughter’s arm and led her to the window. He peered out into the tattered street, holding her at his side. There was no movement outside, save for a few rustling newspapers and cans—no sign of their pursuers in the SUVs.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Even so, the gunshot he’d used on Leonard must have drawn someone’s attention. If the men in the SUVs hadn’t heard it, the creatures certainly had.

  They needed a plan.

  Dan turned and motioned to his companions. The group huddled around the desk in a half-circle, and Dan began to speak.

  “What do we know about our situat
ion?”

  “Whatever is happening here is happening beyond the mountains as well,” Sam said. “Things are just as bad in New Mexico.”

  Sam recounted their journey: their run-ins with the creatures at his store in White Mist, their narrow escape at the Arizona Visitor’s center, the chaos that seemed to prevail among the survivors they had come across. Noah shared the information they had heard on the radio broadcast—the warnings about the contaminated meat.

  “It’s not just the meat. I think it’s our entire food and water supply,” Dan said.

  He told them what he knew about the creatures and that his former partner on the force, Howard, had been in on the plan to contaminate the town.

  “He had a stockpile of food in his house. We took it all and stashed it in the backseat of our car. I wouldn’t trust drinking or eating anything else.”

  “If everything has been contaminated, why haven’t we all turned into those things?” Sam asked. “What makes us so special?”

  “If it’s a virus, maybe we’re immune to it somehow,” Dan said. “We’ve all had plenty of contact with the creatures, but none of us seem to have caught it. It doesn’t seem to spread through cuts or fluids—at least from what I can tell. Maybe it needs to be ingested.”

  Delta held up her arm and pointed to a large scratch.

  “This happened to me last night, but I still feel ok.”

  “I’m not counting my blessings just yet,” Sam said. “Who the hell knows how long it takes for this thing to kick in? For all we know, we could all be ready to turn at any minute.”

  The others nodded. Dan looked back out the window again and pulled his daughter close.

  “As much as I’d like to stay, I don’t think we’re safe here,” he said. “And from what you’ve said, it sounds like the White Mountains aren’t any better. I think we should continue south towards Tucson. Maybe try to catch a radio broadcast somewhere. With the power out and those creatures everywhere, I think we need to keep moving. Those men will be looking for us in town.”

  His companions nodded their heads in agreement.

  “I know a place we can stop at on the way. There’s a wrecking yard at the other end of town. It’s surrounded by barbed wire fence on all sides. I happen to have a spare key.”

  Sam forced a smile. “That’s probably the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  5

  Winters had almost finished with the tire when a single gunshot rang out in the distance. The noise was muffled, as if the weapon had been discharged indoors, but it didn’t sound far.

  “Should I keep going on foot?” Brown asked.

  Winters scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. We need this vehicle—you know that. The Agent leaders are keeping an eye on us. Besides, I’m not leaving this thing behind for shit. Especially with those things around.”

  Brown didn’t answer, just held his rifle in front of him. He looked at the cars on the street, but none appeared drivable. Taking another vehicle would be a major risk. If it broke down, they could be surrounded in minutes. The Agents had cameras inside the SUVs, helping them keep track of what was going on in town; they were ready to send in reinforcements if needed.

  At least, that’s what Brown had been told.

  “Besides, Jameson may have found them already. That gunshot could have been him finishing the last one off,” Winters added.

  Brown looked down at the dead creature in front of him. He wondered what sort of man it had been—if it had had a family. The thing’s eyes were half-closed, empty. A pool of blood blossomed outward from its head, staining the street.

  Footsteps rang out in the street, and Brown snapped to attention. His hands shook as he gripped the rifle. Within seconds, downtown St. Matthews had sprung to life, and he felt a surge of terror course through his veins.

  A horde of creatures had emerged, moving bodies spilling out from broken windows and alleyways. Each was a different size, a different shape; some in suits, some in dresses, some half-naked and screeching. They fell over each other as they spotted him, each clamoring for a piece of his flesh.

  He aimed the rifle, wondering how many he could hit before he ran out of bullets. There had to be fifty of them, at least—too many to count. He would never be able to stop all of them. He opened his mouth, his brain struggling to form a sentence.

  “Are you almost done?”

  “Yes! Just hold them off!” Winters yelled.

  Brown took aim and squeezed the trigger, peppering the mass with bullets. A few of the front-runners stumbled and fell, but the others kept coming, climbing over the bodies of their fallen companions. He looked back at the SUV. Winters was lowering the jack, attempting to pull it out from underneath the car.

  The things kept closing. Hurry! he wanted to scream.

  Brown fired off another round of shots, sweating now. He wondered if anyone had ever died of fear before—or if he would be the first. He was almost out of bullets. Finally, Winters gave the signal.

  “All right, let’s fucking go!”

  Brown lowered the weapon and dove for the vehicle. He whipped open the passenger’s side door and climbed inside, slamming the door shut behind him. A chorus of fists pounded on the windows around him, and the SUV shook. Winters fired up the engine and threw the vehicle into drive.

  “Hold onto your panties, Brown!”

  Two of the creatures were at his window now, clawing at the glass, salivating. He watched as one of them ripped off the mirror; he saw others struggling to hold on as the SUV moved. Brown turned in his seat, looked out the rear window. A few of the creatures clung to the tail of the vehicle.

  Winters swerved from side to side, trying to dislodge the clinging bodies. Gray hands pawed at the windows, and Brown feared that they would get inside, somehow break through the reinforced glass. One by one, the things dropped from sight, falling onto the road and underneath the tires. The SUV continued on, driving over heads and limbs as if they were nothing more than obstacles in rocky terrain.

  After a few minutes, the vehicle’s exterior was clear except for one creature on the rear bumper.

  “You may have to knock that thing off, Brown.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll roll down the rear window. You can hit it with your rifle.”

  Brown sucked in a breath, staring back at the thing. It had begun to pound on the glass; it sounded like the window was close to shattering.

  “Go on! Get the fuck back there!” Winters screamed.

  Brown climbed between the seats, his legs trembling. He threw himself over the back row of seats and dropped into the rear cargo area. The creature grew enraged at the sight of him, its mouth hanging open, fogging up the glass with its breath. Brown fought to keep his balance, struggling to raise his rifle. Before he could react, the window inched downward, and the creature’s hands darted for his neck.

  “What the fuck!” Brown screamed in surprise, swinging the butt of the rifle in front of him. He caught the creature in the head, and it screeched in anger. Cold fingers closed around his windpipe, and he gagged, staring into a face devoid of remorse.

  The thing had once been a middle-aged man—perhaps a truck driver, or a factory worker. It wore a checkered flannel shirt and jeans, now ripped and smeared with blood. Its teeth were stained and cracked, and it filled the air with its rancid breath.

  Brown jabbed the rifle past its molars and into its throat, closed his eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

  He was immediately covered in a backdraft of gore. The thing’s body fell out of sight and rolled away on the pavement.

  Brown looked down at his white suit jacket, which was now tainted with flesh. He wiped at his face, his cheeks wet with blood and filth, the taste of adrenaline pooling on his tongue. He spat out the back window and fought the urge to vomit. His companion
yelled at him from the front seat.

  “You didn’t have to shoot it, asshole. What a Goddamn mess you’ve made.”

  Winters shook his head in disgust and hit a button on the front console. The rear window purred as it rolled back into the frame of the SUV.

  Delta parted the blinds for one last look out the office’s front window. A handful of creatures had congregated in front of the building, as if sensing the group’s presence. They must have heard the gunshot. She released the slats.

  “Three thousand, two hundred, and fifty-six,” Dan said from behind her.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s how many people lived in this town, last time I checked. My guess is that almost of all of them have turned into those things.”

  Dan looked at his pistol, rotating it in his hands, as if he hoped it would magically increase in size and power. The others were in the main room, doing one last search for weapons and supplies.

  “So that’s what we’re up against, Delta,” he said. “Well, at least in St. Matthews.”

  “Do you think this is the work of the government?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t put it past them. The way the world is today, it could have been anyone. Terrorists, radicals, crackpots—you name it. Even my own partner couldn’t be trusted. A Goddamn police officer.” He looked down at his weapon. “I definitely didn’t see that one coming.”

  Delta looked up suddenly, locking eyes with him.

  “I hope you don’t think that we—” she started.

  “Don’t worry, I trust you folks. I can see you’ve been through a lot.”

  She swallowed and lowered her head.

  Dan patted her on the shoulder and resumed his watch out the window.

  Delta suddenly felt a sense of calm wash over her. Here, she felt safer than she had in days. In spite of what was going on around them, they were surrounded by walls and locked doors.