He was tied up, after all. What harm could he possibly do them?
The door cracked open, and a thin patch of moonlight appeared on the floor. A second later a shadow slipped inside. The door clicked shut.
Dan’s forehead dripped with sweat. He heard a footstep. Then another. The person was right in front of him. A whispered voice broke the silence.
“Stay quiet.”
All of a sudden a pale light flicked on, and he saw the frightened visage of Sandy in front of him. In her hands was a knife. She reached toward him, and for a split second, Dan feared she was going to stab him.
Instead, she sawed at the ropes on his legs, fraying the fibers and breaking him free. When she was finished, she cut loose his hands.
Dan stood, shaking out the stiffness that had set into his limbs. The circulation slowly returned to his legs, and he had to fight from falling. Sandy was staring at him.
“Get out of here,” she hissed.
He looked at her in surprise.
“How’d you get in here? How’d you escape?”
“The others set me free, but Reginald isn’t happy. Everyone’s arguing, and it’s not looking good for you.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“I already broke her loose. You need to get out of here, Dan, and never look back.”
Sandy reached over to hand him something. He saw that it was a set of keys. When he looked down at them, he instantly recognized the keychain. They were his—one of them belonged to the stolen station wagon.
“Quinn’s already inside. Follow me and keep as low as possible. We don’t want to alert the guard.”
“Didn’t they see you coming over here?”
“I slipped out while they were arguing. Come on, there’s no time to explain.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
She hesitated. “No. I can’t. People need me here. I can’t leave them behind.”
Before Dan knew it the girl was treading across the floor and opening the door. He followed behind her, his limbs still aching from his restraints. When he slipped out into the night, the cool air soothed his skin, and he drew a silent breath as he hunkered down behind her.
Sandy led him over to the fence, away from the main building, and behind the warehouse. Dan did his best to pad his footsteps, knowing that one wrong move could alert the others. Sandy was taking a huge risk by helping him—surely the others would figure out what she’d done, and she’d have to explain herself.
In any case, he was grateful.
He kept low to the ground as he ran. Soon they’d made it behind the building. By the light of the moon, he could see several shapes behind the lot, and recognized one of them as the station wagon.
When he got close, he saw a shadow in the backseat. Quinn.
His heart flooded with relief, and he cracked the driver’s door and slipped inside. His daughter lunged for his shoulders, and he clung to her for a second before locating the key.
“Daddy,” she whispered, crying.
“It’s ok,” he responded. “Everything will be all right.”
Sandy remained outside the vehicle. She crouched beside the driver’s side door, whispering instructions.
“They’ll be looking for me soon. I have to leave. I think you should be able to drive through the gate. From what I’ve seen, it’s not the sturdiest.”
“Why don’t you come with us?”
“I need to make sure the others are safe. Everyone needs to know about Reginald before it’s too late.”
“Won’t you be in danger?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s a risk I have to take.”
Dan reached out and took the girl’s hand.
“Thank you, Sandy.”
“It’s the least I can do. You saved my life. Just give me two minutes so I can get back to the others.”
Before Dan could reply, the girl had clicked the door closed. He watched as she slipped away from them and disappeared around the warehouse. Once she’d gone, he inserted the key into the ignition and drew a breath.
Stay cool.
Dan turned the key. The engine sprang to life around them, and he locked the doors.
“Hold on, Quinn,” he said.
He threw the vehicle into drive and hit the accelerator, launching the car across the dirt lot. Before he knew it, he was careening out from behind the building and into the heart of the property. He kept the lights off and aimed straight for the gate.
To his right, he saw several doors fly open from the main building, a stream of figures spill out from inside.
“Daddy! Are we going to make it?”
“I sure hope so! Hold on and buckle your seatbelt!”
He headed for the section in between the two entrance gates, praying that the force of the impact would split them apart, and then braced himself in his seat. The car collided with the metal and continued through it, separating the fence with a clatter. The station wagon plowed out into the night, roaring away from the lumberyard and the people running behind them.
When they’d cleared the vicinity, Dan turned to look behind him.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
He exhaled, watching the rearview and the road behind them. Although he was certain that Reginald would follow, he was confident that they’d gotten a good head start. In no time they’d reached an adjacent road, and Dan swerved down it, taking a shortcut to avoid the main thoroughfares.
Up above him, the sky glowed a magnificent blue, and the stars shined a fluorescent light from the heavens. One star in particular shone brighter than the others, and he took a second to admire it, once again thankful to be alive.
“Where are we going, Daddy?”
“I think it’s time to find Aunt Meredith.”
Although he couldn’t see her face, he could hear Quinn breathing a sigh of relief in the backseat.
PART THREE – REBUILD
19
Meredith had never liked driving in the dark. The roads always seemed narrower than in the daytime, and the painted white and yellow lines reminded her of a maze. As she left the town of Settler’s Creek behind, she did her best to focus on the road, but found her gaze wandering to the fields around her.
At any minute, she expected a legion of former townspeople to crop up in front of her, blocking the road and clambering for the vehicle.
So far the path had been clear.
She peered over at John, who was throwing cautious looks out the window. The nearest town was Coventry, and though they were halfway there, she had a sinking feeling that things wouldn’t be much different.
In any case, she had another destination in mind: the Texas border.
Regardless of how the infection had travelled, there were bound to be military personnel there, and hopefully, medical assistance. She tried to dispel the rumors she’d heard about the border—about people being turned away, or worse—and convince herself that they’d find help.
She squinted at the road ahead, her vision blurring. Meredith was exhausted. Ever since she woke up in the morning, the day had been a jumble of horrific events, and she still hadn’t had a chance to digest them all.
She didn’t know if she ever would.
The road took a slight curve, and a sign sprang into view. John jolted at the sight of it; Meredith’s pulse quickened. They’d reached the Coventry limits. Although they were in no immediate danger, they were both on edge.
Before long they passed the first houses on the edge of town. From the looks of it, the lights were still on: Coventry had power. Meredith slowed the truck and glanced in the windows, watching spastic shadows roam back and forth from within.
“Keep going,” John said, his voice somber.
She adjusted her foot from the brake to the gas, picking up speed again. The deeper into town they got, the more prevalent the houses and buildings became. Instead of providing relief, the sight of civilization brought more anxiety; multitudes of creatures wandered outside, hungry and on the prowl.
A few of them flung their bodies at the vehicle as Meredith drove by, and she did her best to avoid any knee-jerk reactions at the wheel. The last thing she needed was to lose control. If she crashed the pickup, the things would be on them in seconds.
Although she was able to avoid most of them, several connected with the vehicle, and each time she jumped. She’d given John her rifle—his was out of bullets—and he held it next to the closed window.
By the time they’d reached the center of town, the streets had erupted in chaos. There were several abandoned vehicles in the road—the owners either gone or infected—and one of the buildings was aflame. Creatures spilled from the mouth of the burning structure, clawing at the yellow flames that surrounded them.
There were no survivors that Meredith could see.
She twisted the wheel, avoiding a pair of cars that had been left in the road.
“We need to get out of here,” John said. “The last thing we need is to be trapped.”
“Tell me about it.”
She navigated between the wreckage, doing her best to avoid a collision, and turned down one of the lesser-known streets. Having grown up in the area, she knew the town almost as well as her own, and it was time to get out of it.
In a few minutes she’d cleared the town center and was heading westward. The border was just a few miles away.
Junked vehicles lined the roadway; creatures ambled in nearby fields.
“Do you think anyone will be there?” Meredith asked.
“The last I heard the roads were sealed off and they weren’t letting anyone through. That was almost a day ago, though. This whole thing came on so quick. Who knows what it will be like now.”
“Everything just happened so fast…first Sheila, then Ben and Marcy, the doctor…”
Meredith’s eyes welled up. John lowered the rifle and reached over to comfort her.
“There’s nothing else you could have done, Meredith.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I just wish this whole thing was over and things would go back to normal.”
“It can’t go on like this forever,” he said. “Something has to give.”
Meredith could see the border approaching from a distance—a plethora of colored and flashing lights on the horizon. Rather than driving faster, she reduced her pace, suddenly aware that reaching it could mean danger or death as much as help or assistance.
There was no way to know.
To her relief, John seemed more alert than he had all night. He sat straight in his chair, Meredith’s rifle propped on his leg. His eyes bore into the night like two dark coals, scanning the distance from the vehicle’s interior.
No matter what the future brought, one thing was clear: Meredith would need all the help she could get.
The flashing yellows, blues, and reds grew from dots to bulbs, and before she knew it she was upon them, the pickup crunching to a halt on the asphalt. She kept a distance of fifty feet, the headlights splashing onto the scene before them.
The border between Texas and Oklahoma on I-40 consisted of a three-lane highway on each side, with a dirt-encrusted median in the center. Above it was a perpendicular bridge that rose about fifty feet in the air. Normally traffic flowed through the area without impediment, crossing between states without issue or restriction.
Now the road before them was completely sealed off.
A row of military tanks, trucks, and police cars lined the street, creating a barricade that extended through the median. Cars had been abandoned on the roadside; doors and trunks left open, the owners nowhere in sight. Meredith stared into the lights, searching for signs of rescue. As she did, the lights seemed to grow brighter, more invasive.
In order to gain visibility, she’d have to move closer. She’d just started to roll forward when a voice rang into the night, sending her foot flying back to the brake.
“Drop your weapon and exit the vehicle!”
She jumped slightly and glanced over at John. He held the rifle steadfast, as if reluctant to give it up.
“Put it down, John,” she whispered. “We don’t want to get shot.”
He sighed nervously and lowered the weapon.
The voice called out again—from the sounds of it, the person was speaking through a bullhorn, perhaps the speakers of a cruiser. John rolled down the window and tossed the rifle into the street. It hit with a clatter.
“Stay here, Meredith. I’ll talk to them.”
He gave her a reassuring stare, but she could see that his hands were shaking. Before she could protest, he opened the passenger’s door and stepped out onto the pavement. She watched as he took a hesitant step toward the lights.
No sooner had he started moving than the voice returned.
“Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer!”
The person did their best to sound firm and commanding, but Meredith could hear a timbre of fear. John froze in place, awaiting instructions.
Meredith peered through the glare, but could make out only blurred shapes. She heard the distant crackle of a radio, the purr of an engine. It was impossible to discern the voice’s origin.
Something was off.
It should be obvious John wasn’t infected. He’d followed the person’s orders, after all, and he was standing in the street unarmed. Why wasn’t anyone coming to greet him?
“We need help!” John shouted.
His words echoed into the street and died. For a minute Meredith was convinced that they were alone, that the voice had been a figment of their imaginations. John took a step forward and raised his hands higher.
“We’re just looking for a doctor! For some information! Please!”
The lights pulsed brighter. The radio fizzed from afar.
And then gunshots filled the air.
Meredith screamed, clutching the side of her head. Through the windshield, she saw John dive to the ground, saw bullets searing the ground around him. He screamed something at her, but his words were muffled, and she was unable to make them out.
This can’t be happening. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through.
She reached for the door handle and flung open the door. She needed to get to John. She needed to help him.
Bullets pelted the other side of the metal, shaking it on its hinges. She cried out and ducked back into the car, bumping the steering wheel with her head. Pain coursed through her skull, and all of a sudden she was crying—shaking and crying—and the windshield was shattering above her.
Why were they doing this? Why would someone shoot without provocation?
Meredith tried to make sense of it all, but there was no sense to be had. Glass spilled against the console, and shards dug into her hair and hands.
“John!” she shrieked.
Was he still alive? Where was he?
Meredith reached for the shifter and put the vehicle into drive. She poked her head up, hoping to get a glimpse of him, and saw John on the ground. It looked like he was moving.
He’s alive. I just need to get to him.
She hit the gas and rolled forward and positioned the car between the shooter and her fallen companion. The gunfire had ceased. Was the man reloading? Was he taking better aim? Knowing she didn’t have much time, she lunged over into the passenger’s seat and flung open the door, revealing John’s startled face in front of her.
“Get in!” she scr
eamed.
John pushed himself to his knees and scrambled inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Meredith hit the gas.
Behind them, the gunfire continued in short bursts, tearing into the trunk of the vehicle. She swerved from left to right, terrified that the shooter might hit a tire, and dipped her head below the steering wheel.
Her feet and hands felt like rubber; she fought to maintain control. When she’d gained about fifty feet of distance from the barricade, she sat up.
Tears streaked her face, and she struggled to breathe.
In the rearview, she watched the lights disappearing behind them, winking off one by one as if to remind them of all the people they’d lost.
20
The mountain roads were curved and worn, but a welcome reprieve from the tattered streets of St. Matthews. Given the obstacles that Dan and Quinn had encountered the past few days, the dangers of nature seemed pale in comparison, and he took the turns with the ease of someone who’d driven them many times before.
Because of his familiarity with the area, Dan had taken the shortest possible route to the town’s edge, and thus far, he’d seen no signs of being pursued. With each passing mile he was more confident that they’d lost Reginald and his group. Despite Reginald’s vendetta against him, he was pretty sure the man had given up.
The risk of attack or infection surely outweighed the need to chase them down.
While driving, he’d had Quinn turn on the overhead lights and check the backseat for their belongings. While their personal items had been left untouched, the food had been taken. His daughter had only located one box in the backseat—an errant package that had somehow escaped discovery.
Other than that, they were without food or drink.
In addition, all of their weapons had been cleared out except for a lone pistol Dan had stashed underneath the seat.
All these things were bad, but they could’ve been worse. Dan and Quinn could have been tortured, killed, or infected. And yet they were alive. Having escaped imprisonment, Dan did his best to focus on the mission at hand.
Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7] Page 52
