Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  “Be careful,” Delta whispered.

  She loaded a bag of food behind the driver’s seat. Dan had supplied Noah with rations from the SUVs.

  It had been a few hours, and the others filed from the RV, having caught a little more sleep. In the distance, the sun had crested the mountains, sending beams of light over the salvage yard; the figures of Delta’s friends were shadows against the illuminated backdrop.

  Noah met them halfway, exchanging hugs and handshakes as each member of the group wished him well on his journey. When they were through, he climbed into the pickup and started the engine.

  Dan headed for the gate, unlocked it, and swung open the chain-link barrier.

  The pickup rolled forward, crunching dirt and gravel underneath the tires. Noah extended his arm out the window in a farewell gesture.

  Delta watched him go, saying a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.

  The truck sped up the dirt road, kicking up dust as it disappeared from sight.

  Good luck, Noah. We’ll all need it. A tear formed at the corner of her eye and she dabbed at it with the back of her wristt.

  Sam stood next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Delta bit her lip and sucked in a breath. She turned to face him.

  “I’m heading out soon myself, Delta,” he said.

  “I know.” She swallowed.

  “How did you find out?”

  “Dan told me. He wanted me to talk you out of it, but I’m not going to.”

  Sam creased his brow, confused.

  “What do you mean?”

  Delta gave him a long stare.

  “I know what you’re doing, Sam. I’m coming with you.”

  BOOK THREE: WASTELAND

  PART ONE – BORN FROM PAIN

  1

  White Mountains

  Navajo Country, Arizona

  “It’s dead,” Sam said, slamming the hood of the Toyota pickup.

  He looked over at his companion. A look of concern spread across Delta’s face.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “The battery. We’re out of juice.”

  He strode over to the open driver’s side door, reached inside, and plucked out the keys. He scanned the vehicle. The backseat of the truck was filled with weapons and supplies, the front filled with clothes. In the back, underneath the covered truck bed, were several bags full of groceries—enough to keep them fed for a while, if they ate conservatively. By all accounts, they were prepared.

  What they hadn’t prepared for was the key being left in the ‘on’ position overnight.

  “I’m sorry,” Delta said. “I must have left it on when I rolled down the window.”

  She wiped her eyes. Despite stopping for the night to rest, she looked exhausted.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Sam took in their surroundings. They had stopped to rest in a wooded area off the side of Route 191, somewhere in the White Mountains of Arizona. His initial thought had been to travel at night, making progress when other potential travelers would be at rest or hiding out. He had soon realized his mistake.

  The roads were curved and treacherous, the turns barely visible in the truck’s headlights. Because of the imminent danger, they had been forced to travel at low speeds, making little progress over the course of several hours.

  At about three a.m., Sam had pulled the vehicle off the road, intent on resting for the remainder of the night. He and Delta had switched places so that she could take the next shift.

  During the night she must have cracked a window and then forgotten to turn off the ignition.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes,” he said.

  Sam rested his hands on the hood of the green truck.

  In many ways it reminded him of his own vehicle—the one he had been forced to leave behind. He wondered if it was still intact, or if it had already been stolen or destroyed.

  He watched Delta take a few steps into the woods, the forest floor crunching underneath her flats, and felt a surge of empathy. She looked upset, and frankly, he couldn’t blame her.

  The last few days had been difficult for both of them.

  Hell, the last few years had.

  Sam had been the owner of a gas station and store in the small town of White Mist, New Mexico. His family had purchased the business several years prior, fulfilling a lifelong dream of owning a piece of the American Southwest. Delta had been a college student living in Oklahoma City.

  Two years ago, Sam’s wife and daughter had been killed in a hotel fire set by an arsonist. The perpetrator had been Delta’s father. Although the man had died in prison, the effects of what he had done still haunted them both.

  Delta had been searching for Sam when the whole world had turned upside down just several days earlier. Since then, things had only gotten worse.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her.

  Delta swiveled to face him. It looked like she had been crying, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

  “Not really.”

  “We should probably eat. It will do us good.”

  She nodded her head and then turned back to the forest. Sam left his perch on the truck and began walking toward the back of the vehicle. When he reached it, he lowered the bed and pulled out several grocery bags, then laid them on the ground. Inside were packages wrapped in red labels—food they had been told was safe.

  He read the labels, but none excited him. He finally chose one that was marked “Cereal” and returned the rest to the truck. Afterwards, he pulled out two bottles of water and set them on the ground.

  “I’ll be right back,” Delta called over to him. “I have to use the bathroom.”

  “OK. Don’t go far.”

  Sam brought the food over to the front of the truck. He reached into the waist of his jeans, pulling out a knife he had stashed there, and then sliced open the packages containing the cereal.

  “Wheaties,” he muttered. “Couldn’t we have chosen something with a little more flavor?”

  He set one of the packages out for Delta and then ripped open the other. Despite his unhappiness with the selection, he found himself tearing into the cereal. In the midst of all that was going on, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Within a few seconds he had finished the package and was eyeing his companion’s.

  “I should probably get another box,” he said aloud. It had been a while since he had last eaten.

  I’ll worry about conserving food later.

  Before returning to the back of the truck, he broke open his bottle of water and took a long swig. His throat was parched.

  When he had finished, Sam left the remaining food on the hood of the truck and began walking toward the rear of the vehicle. He had only gone a few steps when he heard a scream. The noise was shrill and piercing, and he felt a chill run down the length of his body.

  He swiveled to face the forest, heart pounding, and tried to determine the location of the noise. A few seconds later, he heard a gunshot.

  It was coming from the area where Delta had just vanished.

  Sam reached for his knife.

  I shouldn’t have let her go off alone.

  Even in the middle of nowhere—miles from the nearest town—he should have stopped her. If something happened to the girl, he would never forgive himself. As he raced into the forest, Sam heard another gunshot. Then two more.

  Thankfully, Delta was carrying a pistol. He just hoped she was the one doing the firing.

  He considered calling out to her, but restrained himself. Depending on what they were up against, it might be best to preserve the element of surprise. He clutched his blade and continued into the forest.

 
The area was thick with pines, and the tree trunks were wide enough to block his view around them. Dense foliage covered the ground, and Sam kicked and thrashed his way through it, searching for signs of his companion.

  How far had she gone?

  He’d told her to stay close. Dammit.

  A fourth gunshot rang out, this one from somewhere straight ahead. Sam noticed a break in the trees, and he picked up his speed, honing in on Delta’s location. He stopped suddenly, realizing he was at the top of a ravine. A trickle of loose pebbles bounced down the embankment.

  Delta stood at the bottom, her gun trained on two writhing creatures. One of them had grabbed hold of her leg.

  When she saw Sam, she looked up and screamed.

  “I’m out of bullets!”

  “I’m coming!” he yelled.

  The creatures groped at Delta, fluid dripping from open wounds in their bodies—presumably from where she had shot them. Although crippled, neither showed any sign of slowing down.

  Sam started down the embankment, doing his best to avoid the ruts and rocks around him. He squeezed the knife in his right hand, making sure not to drop it, and used his left hand to brace himself from sliding. When he reached the bottom, he saw that Delta had broken free.

  “Get back!” he shouted.

  She complied, jumping to the side just in time to avoid the snapping jaws of one of the creatures. When the things noticed Sam, they changed course and crawled toward him.

  He backed up a step and raised his knife.

  The first creature had once been a man in its mid-twenties—it was wearing brown shorts, a hiking t-shirt, and a faded orange hat that was matted with blood. Its eyes were black and empty, and a string of saliva dangled from its mouth.

  Sam slashed at the creature’s face, tearing open its cheek, and then leapt backwards as it groped for his leg. The second creature had already overtaken the first, crawling over the other thing’s back in an attempt to get to Sam.

  This one was a woman with long, stringy hair. At one time it might have been the man’s wife or girlfriend, but now it was nothing more than a snarling mass of rotten flesh.

  Sam circled behind them, raised his knife, and plunged it into the woman-creature’s skull. She writhed for a second, then stopped moving. Underneath her, the male creature pulled itself forward, oblivious to the death of its companion.

  Sam placed his boot on the remaining creature’s back and drove the knife into its neck. Even after being stabbed, the thing continued to lunge at him, clicking its teeth. Sam sliced sideways, severing its head from its body, and then stepped to the side and clutched his stomach.

  “Are you OK?” Delta asked.

  Sam opened his mouth to answer. Before he could speak, he turned his head and vomited into the side of the ravine. The knife fell to the ground.

  Delta put her hand on his shoulder.

  “It never gets easier, does it?”

  “No,” he replied. “And it shouldn’t.”

  “Where the hell did they come from?” Sam asked, still struggling to catch his breath.

  “I don’t know—by the time I saw them, they were practically on top of me.”

  As the two walked back through the forest, Sam scoured the trees for any other attackers. He held his knife at his side, preparing to use it again if needed.

  “We shouldn’t split up like that again,” he said.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. First the car battery, and now this…”

  Delta lowered her head in shame, but Sam kept walking. After a few steps, she grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her.

  “Do you regret letting me come with you?” she asked.

  Her blue eyes pierced into him, and her face threatened tears. Sam patted her arm.

  “Not even close,” he said. “Let’s just focus on getting the hell out of here.”

  Sam led the way, looking for breaks in the underbrush. Despite having traveled the path just minutes before, much of the forest looked the same, and he paused several times to consider the direction he’d chosen.

  Above them, the sun had just poked through the trees, sending rays of warmth to the ground below. A cool breeze served to temper the heat, blowing lightly against the travelers’ skin as they walked.

  A few minutes later, he noticed the familiar outline of the truck. He held up his hand and signaled for Delta to stop.

  “Let’s take it slow,” he whispered. “There may be more of those things around.”

  He fell into a crouch and progressed slowly toward the vehicle, careful not to make any unwanted noise. When he was twenty feet away, he hid behind a tree trunk.

  Delta paused behind him.

  He peered around the side, examining the area around the truck. The vehicle appeared to be unoccupied. However, he noticed that the food he had left on the hood was scattered across the ground, the water bottles spilled and tipped over.

  He froze, listening for signs of danger.

  After a few minutes of silence, he heard a scraping noise from beneath the truck.

  Delta looked at him and her eyes grew wide.

  Sam strained his ears, but the sound didn’t repeat. He crept forward a step, leaving the cover of the tree trunk, and listened again.

  The forest was quiet. All he could make out were the chirping of birds and the occasional gust of wind.

  Gaining courage, Sam advanced toward the vehicle—now just ten feet away—and bent his knees to look underneath. From his new position, he could make out the running boards, the muffler pipes, and the oil pan. The rest was bathed in shadow. He squinted, but saw nothing of concern.

  The noise repeated.

  Sam tensed up. This time he was sure it was coming from underneath the pickup.

  He bent farther down, his knees now touching the forest floor, and let his vision readjust.

  After a few seconds, he could make out a pair of eyes staring back at him from underneath the truck. Startled, Sam leapt back, trying not to lose his footing.

  “Stay back!” he yelled to Delta.

  Something darted out in his direction, and Sam swung the blade in front of him, hoping to deflect the attack. His sudden movement put him further off balance, and he fell to the ground with a thud.

  Disoriented, he lashed out again with the blade, his attacker still nothing more than a flurry of movement in front of him. He heard Delta screaming at him now, but it took a few moments for her words to sink in.

  “Sam—relax! It’s just a squirrel!”

  Confused, he dropped the knife to the ground, still breathing heavily. A gray ball of fur had revealed itself from beneath the truck.

  The squirrel stopped to chitter at him, and then pranced across the forest floor. In its mouth was a piece of cereal.

  Sam lowered his head in embarrassment.

  “Looks like we found our intruder.”

  After cleaning up the scattered food, Sam got back into the truck and tried to start it. The key clicked in the ignition, but the engine refused to turn over.

  “No luck,” he said.

  While he was attending to the vehicle, Delta had retrieved a box of cereal and was polishing it off along with a bottle of water. When she had finished, she reloaded her pistol. Sam retrieved a gun of his own.

  “I think our best bet is to look for a nearby campsite,” he said. “Those creatures must have come from somewhere.”

  “That makes sense.”

  He pointed past the pickup and toward Route 191, which was barely visible through the trees.

  “We should stick close to the main thoroughfare, but stay hidden so we won’t be seen from the road.”

  Delta agreed. Having established a plan, the two grabbed a few items of food and moved forward through t
he underbrush. At Sam’s suggestion, they started out in the direction of the ravine, which was just north of their current location.

  Sam set the pace, clearing the brush in front of them and making sure the branches didn’t snap against Delta.

  As he moved, his thoughts drifted to their former companions.

  Just twenty-four hours earlier, they had been holed up in St. Matthews, Arizona in the town’s salvage yard. At the time, they had been keeping company with several other survivors—Noah, a young traveler they had met on the road in New Mexico, and Dan, a former St. Matthew’s police officer, as well as Dan’s eleven-year-old daughter Quinn.

  After a deadly shootout with several of the Agents—the men responsible for the infection—the survivors had decided to go their separate ways.

  Noah had left for Portland, hoping to find his family safe and alive. Dan and Quinn had opted to remain in the salvage yard, holding their position until they could determine a better place to hide.

  Wherever they were now, Sam hoped they had been able to avoid danger, and that he would see them again one day.

  “How do you think the others are doing?” Delta asked.

  “Good, I hope.”

  “I worry about Noah. To be out there on his own…”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a resourceful kid,” Sam said.

  He looked away, doing his best to shield his concern.

  Up ahead, the forest thickened. Sam veered closer to the road, fearing they might lose sight of it. In light of their situation, the last thing they needed was to get lost—without the truck, they’d have no source of additional food or water. Although Sam had brought a few items along with them, he knew the provisions would run out quickly.

  Before long, he recognized the clearing in the trees that marked the top of the ravine. This time, they approached the embankment from a different angle, skirting around the edge and avoiding going into it. As they proceeded, Sam could still make out the bodies of the creatures. A ring of blood had pooled beneath them, and he looked away to avoid gagging.