Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  It was faint, but there.

  This time when she listened close, she heard the wisp of his breath, and she could see that his chest was rising and falling. In any case, he wasn’t out of the water yet. He’d lost a lot of blood, and he needed stitches and his wound cleaned. Although Meredith wasn’t a doctor, she knew that much.

  Given John’s size, there was no way she could carry him. She’d have to go in alone. Meredith unlocked the door and grabbed the rifle, then jumped into the parking lot.

  She gave one last look around. The parking lot was empty. Relieved, she slammed the door shut and dashed up to the entrance, leaving the vehicle running.

  The doorway contained a covered overhang and two doors—one to a dental office, the other to Dr. Steadman’s. She tried both handles, but both were locked. She banged on the door to the doctor’s office.

  “Dr. Steadman? It’s Meredith Tilly! I need help!”

  There was a window on the right side of the doorway, and she leaned off the steps to get a look inside. What she saw made her heart drop. The waiting room had been torn apart: magazines littered across the floor, chairs overturned, supplies scattered. The glass window leading to the reception area was smashed.

  There was no sign of Dr. Steadman or his employees.

  Undeterred, she rapped on the windowpane, screaming the doctor’s name once again. At the same time, she kept a watch on the parking lot, certain that she’d draw the attention of some of the infected nearby.

  It was a risk she had to take. John needed treatment. She couldn’t fail him.

  In spite of her efforts, there was no response.

  She kicked the door below the handle, hoping to cave it in inwards, but it held fast. She was just about to try the back of the building when a pale white face appeared at the window. Meredith jumped back.

  She instantly recognized Dr. Steadman: round, bespectacled, and sporting a thin gray moustache. The man’s mouth hung agape, and he stared at her with vacant eyes. In spite of his appearance, he didn’t seem to be infected. She waved her arms, hoping to snap him out of the trance he was in, and motioned to the door.

  “Let me in!” she shouted.

  The man at the window stared at her but didn’t move. She continued to yell, banging on the pane in front of him. After a few seconds he disappeared from sight.

  She waited another minute, but the door remained closed.

  Footsteps rang out behind her. Meredith spun.

  Across the street, one of the building doors had crashed open and a mound of creatures spilled from inside. Her breath caught in her throat, her instincts screaming at her to run. She stared at the back of the pickup, where John’s motionless figure sat inside. She turned back to the window.

  “Help!” she screamed.

  She pounded the door again, then she raised her foot to kick it. Before she could exact the maneuver, the door swung open and someone tugged her inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Meredith was in the waiting room. The doctor stood in front of her, hands shaking.

  “Meredith?” he asked, as if she might somehow transform into someone else.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “My God.”

  The doctor reached out and took hold of her sleeve, pinching the fabric as if to verify she was real. In all her dealings with the man, he’d always been stoic and professional. She’d never seen him lose his calm, and she’d never seen him rattled. Now, as he looked her up and down, it looked like he’d encountered a ghost.

  “Dr. Steadman, I need your help. John Parish is injured, and he—”

  Thud-thud-thud.

  Before she could finish her thought, the door shook behind them, straining against the hinges. Dr. Steadman fell against it, shielding the entrance with his body. Inhuman cries spilled from the other side, and he cried out with each blow, holding his forehead with his hands as if to will the creatures away.

  Meredith raced to the window and stole a glance. The creatures had bombarded the front steps; a few were lingering around the pickup. By the looks of it, John still hadn’t moved.

  I shouldn’t have left him behind.

  But what else could she have done? John needed medical treatment, and she’d found him a doctor. What she couldn’t have anticipated was that the doctor would be in such a frayed emotional state.

  She glanced over at Dr. Steadman, who’d tucked himself into a ball by the door. His eyes met hers, and he shook his head, as if hoping to clear the images that resided there.

  In order to get his help, she’d have to snap him out of it.

  “Doc! Help me secure the door!”

  She grabbed his arm and led him to a coffee table in the center of the room, then instructed him to help her carry it. The two hoisted it in front of the door. Once the table was in place, Meredith snagged several of the waiting room chairs and propped them above the table. It wasn’t the best barricade, but it would have to do.

  “Is there anyone else in the building?” she asked.

  “N-no,” the doctor stammered. “Everyone left when this all started happening. I watched them leave the parking lot, but then some of them came back when they turned into those things. In fact, I think that’s Rosa—my nurse—right outside.”

  Meredith listened as a high-pitched shriek erupted from beyond the door.

  “We need to get your medical supplies and get to John Parish. He’s in the truck, and he needs our help. This is an emergency.”

  The doctor nodded and tipped his glasses back on his nose.

  “What happened?”

  “He was bitten by one of them and there’s a huge gash in his leg. He’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s been in and out of consciousness.”

  She watched the doctor’s demeanor change, his expression harden. It was as if the prospect of treating John had somehow jolted him back into reality. Her only hope was to keep him focused.

  “We need to hurry!”

  “Let’s go back to my office and grab some things,” he said. “After that, we can find a way out of here.”

  16

  Charlie twitched on the ground and then grew still. His hooded sweatshirt had been ripped apart by bullets, his stomach covered in blood. The figure in the red shack ducked back inside and out of sight. It sounded like he’d run out of bullets. At the same time, it was very possible that he had another weapon.

  Dan held his position behind the door of the Buick.

  At the sound of gunfire, he’d instructed the girls to stay down in the backseat. He peered behind him to make sure they were all right. Sandy’s face was wet with tears; her lips trembled.

  “Who’s in the shack?” he asked.

  “It looks like Reginald. But why would he do this? I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe he knows we’re here for the car. Maybe he’s found what we have inside, and he’s putting the pieces together. Whatever the case may be, we need to get inside, and we need to get that food.”

  “I’ll talk to him. This must be a misunderstanding. He must’ve mistaken Charlie for—”

  “I wouldn’t trust him, Sandy. I know this man. The way things are right now, there’s a good chance he’ll shoot you the way he did to Charlie. You’d better stay put and let me handle this.”

  Dan turned his attention back to the front gate. The lumberyard was graveyard silent. Nothing moved, nothing in sight. Still, he could sense that the man was lurking within the building, maybe even waiting to line up another shot.

  He’d already killed one of his comrades. It would be foolish to think he wouldn’t kill anyone else if he had the means. Dan lowered the window to a crack and yelled out of the opening.

  “Reginald? I know you’re in there. This is Dan Lowery with the St. Matthews Police Department.”

/>   The yard was silent.

  “I’m not here to arrest you, but you have something of ours that we need back. Give us the car and we’ll be on our way.”

  A few seconds of silence passed. Finally, a response rang through the yard.

  “Bullshit.”

  Dan tensed at the word, but did his best to remain cool.

  “I’m telling the truth,” he called out.

  “I know exactly what you’re looking for, you pig cocksucker. I’ve seen what you have in the car.” Reginald paused. “And there’s no way I’m giving it up. You think I want to die like everybody else?”

  “Throw all of your weapons and open the gates. We’ll talk about it.”

  Laughter filled the lumberyard, echoing off the gates and drifting out to the car. Dan bit his lip. He needed another opening, an advantage.

  “I have my daughter with me, Reginald. She’s only eleven years old. I’m not looking for trouble. I just want our vehicle and our things.”

  “Not happening. The food is ours now.”

  “How long do you think that food will last you, anyway? A few weeks at most? I can tell you where to get more.”

  “If you don’t need it, then why did you come here?”

  “Because there are things in that car that I can’t replace. Open up, Reginald.”

  There was a long pause. Dan looked back at the girls. Both of them were staring at him intently, their eyes round and hopeful.

  When he glanced back over the dash, he saw a figure emerge from the shack and throw a weapon in the dirt. It was Reginald, and he was dressed in the same attire they’d seen him in hours earlier: a black jean jacket, dark jeans, and boots. He’d left his gun in the dirt by the shack.

  When he reached the fence, he fiddled with a padlock in the center, then hung it on one of the links and swung open the gates.

  “All right. Come on in inside,” he said. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

  The man stood about twenty feet from the car with his arms raised. Charlie’s lifeless body lay on the ground next to him.

  “Stay put,” Dan told the girls.

  In spite of the man’s words, he still didn’t trust him. It was possible Reginald had another weapon on him.

  Dan rolled the driver’s side window back up and felt for the door handle. Then he opened the door and propped his gun through the crack.

  “Keep your hands in the air,” he called out.

  Reginald remained in place, obedient. Dan swung his feet onto the asphalt and slowly exited the vehicle, keeping his pistol trained in front of him. As he advanced, he heard the man chuckling.

  “What’s so funny?” Dan asked.

  “It’s just ironic. Even at the end of the world, some things never change.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Doesn’t this feel like déjà vu, Officer Lowery? This isn’t the first time we’ve been in this situation, you and I. We’ve got a lot of history together.”

  “All I’m looking for is my car.”

  “How many times have we done this dance? Three?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Sure you do. You were the one responsible for sending me to prison for the first time. Back in 2008.”

  “I was just doing my job.”

  “And I appreciate it. I learned a lot while I was locked up, and I have you to thank for it. In a lot of ways, you’re the reason I’m still alive.”

  Dan’s eyes wandered to Charlie’s body, and he shook his head. Had the man lost his mind?

  “You’re delusional, Reginald.”

  “No, I’m not. But I’m a lot smarter now that I was then.”

  Without another word, Reginald whistled into the air. Dan furrowed his brow, still unsure of the man’s intentions.

  A second later he understood.

  Three men with guns had appeared from behind the red shack. They crept through the dirt, advancing toward the fence, and trained their rifles at Dan and the vehicle.

  Reginald turned and smiled. “Got you this time, pig.”

  Dan lay facedown in the shack, his mouth tasting dirt and grime. He’d been stripped of his weapon, and his hands and feet were bound. The girls were tied up next to him.

  Quinn was whimpering. She’d originally been screaming, but the men had placed a gag in her mouth to silence her. The sound of his daughter struggling made him sick to his stomach.

  “It’s OK, honey,” he said, his words shaky and uncertain.

  For the last ten minutes he’d been struggling with his bindings, attempting to wriggle free, but the ropes had held firm. Dan was hopelessly contained.

  The shack that they were being kept in was small—no more than fifteen feet wide and fifteen feet across. The walls were made of natural oak; the interior was little more than a frame. Aside from the three of them, there was nothing else in the room that Dan could see, nothing that could offer them assistance.

  He turned to his left to face Sandy. Her face was streaked with tears. Even though she’d begged and protested, her former comrades had insisted on tying her up, insisting that she could no longer be trusted.

  “Any idea where they went?”

  She shook her head.

  On the way in, Dan had gotten a better view of the lumberyard. Just past the guard shack was a large warehouse where most of the lumber was stored, beyond it a rectangular structure with gray vinyl siding. He assumed the group was holing up in the latter building.

  Even though Reginald had kept them alive, Dan was hesitant to believe they’d be kept that way. After what Reginald had done to Charlie, it was obvious he’d snapped.

  The only thing he needed Dan for now was information.

  Dan opened his mouth to ask Sandy another question, but before he could, footsteps sounded from outside. The men were returning. He turned his head away from Sandy and focused at the wall in front of him. The men hadn’t injured them yet.

  The last thing he needed was to give them an excuse.

  There were three voices in earshot, and Dan instantly recognized one of them as Reginald’s.

  “We’ll keep them in there until we get what we want.”

  “I don’t like this one bit, Reginald. Why don’t we just send them on their way?”

  “The cop has information that can keep us safe.”

  “What if somebody’s looking for him?”

  “We’re in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse. Don’t worry about it.”

  The voices hushed as the footsteps grew closer. Dan heard the creak of a door, and then the three men were inside with them. He kept his eyes glued to the wall. A second later he felt a sharp pain in his side; someone had kicked his ribs. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and he coughed and spat on the floor.

  He heard the floorboards creak, and then he saw the bridge of Reginald’s nose as he leaned down beside him.

  “How’s it going down there, Dan? It doesn’t feel so good when the shoe’s on the other foot, does it?”

  The other men in the room chuckled. Dan craned his neck, but could make out only several blurry figures. His gaze wandered back to Reginald. The man sneered at him, eyes dark and penetrating.

  “I’ve told the group all about you. It’s obvious you have something to do with this—the food in your car proves it. Everyone agreed that we should do what’s necessary to protect ourselves.”

  “I have nothing to do with the infection, Reginald.”

  “Funny, that’s not what you said before.”

  The other men in the room murmured.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Reginald continued.

  “I know you’re behind this. You’re going to tell us how to survive this thing, an
d I’m going to take every measure I can to get you to talk.”

  “I have nothing to do with this. I’m a goddamn police officer, for Christ’s sake. Do these men know about your past, Reginald? Do they know what kind of man you are? You just killed one of your own in cold blood!”

  He strained his head again, wishing he could make eye contact with the men behind him. He tried rolling over, but Reginald held him down.

  “We’ve all made mistakes. I’ve told these men that. Shooting Charlie was an accident. I saw a strange car and a hooded man at the gate that I didn’t recognize. I acted on instinct. I feel bad about what happened, but all I can do is move forward.”

  “You knew exactly who he was. You’re a goddamn murderer.”

  “And what does that make you, Dan? You’re responsible for the deaths of thousands of people, and you’re putting our entire group in danger by being here. You’re going to tell us what we need to know, and then we’re going to make sure that you can’t hurt anyone else.”

  Quinn cried out, but her words died in the gag. Dan looked over at her. His heart was pounding, and he was fighting from welling up.

  “I’m going to make you a deal, Dan. You tell us what we need to know—everything—and we’ll let your daughter live.”

  Clearly the man was manipulating the situation, and he’d convinced his comrades that Dan was a threat.

  Dan kept his eyes locked on his daughter’s, refusing to look at the man. After everything that they’d been through, everything they’d survived, he couldn’t help but feel that this was the end of the line.

  With his hands and feet bound, there was nothing he could do to save himself, no action he could take to remedy the situation. All he could do was to try and save his daughter.

  Reginald glared at him, still waiting for an answer. Finally Dan responded.

  “Deal.”

  17

  Dr. Steadman dashed between the examination rooms, Meredith on his heels. Despite putting some distance between themselves and the front entrance, Meredith could still hear the incessant pounding of hands on the wood, and the sounds kept her nerves on edge.