Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to Oklahoma.”

  “We’re still going to Aunt Meredith’s, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “How much longer do we have?”

  “We’re almost there. If we get moving, we should be able to make it before nightfall.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t wait to see her.”

  “Me, neither, sweetheart. Me neither.”

  26

  Meredith held the board to the living room window while John tapped the nail.

  “Is this the last one?” she asked.

  “I think so. We should do another walk-thru to be sure.”

  In the past few hours, they’d systematically boarded up all the lower windows in the house. They’d started by using the wood in the furniture shop, then they’d taken loose pieces of wood they’d found in Meredith’s barn.

  When they were finished, Meredith sat on the edge of the couch to catch her breath. Her arms were sore from the lifting, cutting, and nailing, but it was a small price to pay for security.

  Even with the windows boarded, she knew they wouldn’t be safe enough.

  Despite still being in danger, being at home and surrounded by familiar belongings had given her a sense of calm. In some way, it seemed like the events of the last day had been the product of her imagination, that she was still feeling the effects of a lingering nightmare.

  Her property looked the same as it always did—rows of grass and corn in the backyard, a wire fence lining the roadside in the front. Past the driveway she could see the red barn that she’d recently repainted. There were no signs that anything unusual had occurred in the area, and no signs of the infected.

  Still, she knew that things could change at any moment. And because of that, she needed to stay mentally prepared.

  Meredith reached up and massaged her temples, fighting off a migraine headache. She was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, and it was catching up to her. As if sensing her mood, Ernie jumped onto her lap and started lapping at her face with his tongue. She smiled and gently pushed him down, then scratched him behind the ears.

  It’d been good to reunite with him again. She felt guilty for even leaving him in the first place.

  “I’m sorry I left you for so long, boy,” she told him. “It won’t happen again.”

  John paced the house, still favoring his injured leg. Since arriving home, she’d changed the bandage and cleaned it, but she could tell he was still in pain. She watched as he padded from one room to another, doing his best to put on a brave front. In spite of being in the house, she could tell he was still unsettled.

  “You don’t have any other guns in the house, do you, Meredith?”

  “No,” she replied. Having lost both of their rifles during their journey, they were virtually defenseless.

  “Maybe one of the neighbors has one.”

  “I don’t think we should go back out there, John,” she said. “We should probably just hang tight.”

  John glanced at the floor of the living room, where he’d collected a pile of makeshift weapons. In the stack were several garden tools, some knives, and some two-by-fours.

  “If we get surrounded again—like I did at the furniture shop—we’re going to be in trouble,” he said.

  Meredith sighed. They’d just reached the house a few hours ago, and already they were talking about leaving. The thought made her nervous and uncomfortable.

  “I don’t know, John. With your leg, I think you really need to rest.”

  “I’m feeling a lot better. You did a hell of a job stitching me back together.”

  He sat down beside her, placed his hand on her leg, and smiled.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, then wrinkled her nose. “You need a bath.”

  “Maybe I’ll take one later.”

  “Who knows how long the power will last. You might as well take one while things are quiet.”

  “I’ll take one when I get back.”

  “I can see where this conversation is headed. No matter what I say, you’re insisting on going out.” She shook her head.

  “Do you think the Sanders will have a rifle?”

  Meredith thought for a minute. Aside from Sheila Guthright, Ben and Marcy were her closest neighbors. Although she couldn’t swear that they had a rifle, it was possible they might.

  “I think that would be the safest bet. Their house is only a few minutes away.”

  Resolved, John stood up and walked toward the door.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

  “John, wait!”

  Meredith stood and walked after him. Before he could leave, she grabbed him by the arm.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you go alone. I’m coming with you.”

  “Meredith—”

  “No arguments, John. Let’s get going.”

  After a quick debate, it was decided that John would drive the pickup. Although his left foot was injured, his right was unimpaired, and he insisted on giving Meredith a break.

  Meredith watched closely out the passenger’s-side window, purveying the endless fields, but saw nothing suspicious. Ernie sat on her lap, sucking in the air from the open window. Rather than leaving him behind, she’d decided to take him.

  If something were to happen, she didn’t want to leave him behind again.

  Regardless, she could only hope that the journey was quick and safe. If all went well, they’d be home in half an hour. Maybe less.

  They made the drive in silence. The air was thick with tension and uncertainty, but Meredith was glad to be next to John once again. When she looked over at him, she was filled with a sense of hope and completeness that she hadn’t felt in a while. She just wished that she’d made the realization sooner, that circumstances were different.

  The Sanders’ home was about a half mile up the road; in no time the house was in view. The house, a white ranch with black shutters, sat several hundred feet from the road. Leading up to it was a driveway of crushed stone.

  Unlike many of their neighbors, the Sanders didn’t rely on their land for income. Ben worked from home as a computer developer, and Marcy taught second grade in the local elementary school. Because of that, the land was sprawling and mostly untouched. As far as she could tell, it was unoccupied.

  John turned the pickup into the driveway. The crunch of stone seemed to shatter the quiet around them; Meredith envisioned a horde of creatures emerging from the horizon, awakened by the approaching vehicle, but none came.

  Seconds later they’d pulled up next to the house.

  John let the vehicle idle.

  “Do you think the door’s open?” he asked.

  “I know where they keep the spare key.” Meredith shifted in her seat. “I’ll go inside.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I know the layout of the house better than you do. It’ll take me less time to search it.”

  “Skip it, Meredith. I’m coming with you.”

  John smiled, and she felt a surge of warmth. Meredith exited the vehicle. John did the same. The two of them followed a stone walkway to the front of the house, eyes fixed on the door and windows. Everything seemed locked and secured. Perhaps whatever happened to Ben and Marcy had occurred after they’d already left.

  When they reached the front door, Meredith stooped off the front step and retrieved the spare key, which was hidden underneath a fake rock next to the landing. She inserted the key into the front door and waited.

  There were no sounds from within. The area remained quiet save the idling of the p
ickup in the driveway behind them. She turned the key and pushed.

  The door opened without a sound.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the two of them stepped through the threshold.

  The interior of the house was far different from the exterior. From a distance, the house seemed peaceful, undisturbed. Inside, the home was in disarray. Lamps were knocked over, tables were overturned, and furniture was shifted. They had entered through the living room; past it was the kitchen. Meredith could see the open back door from here, which appeared to have been busted open.

  It was as if the house had been ransacked.

  In previous visits the house had been in perfect order, everything in place. Marcy had always kept an immaculate home. The scene was unsettling, to say the least.

  “Come on,” Meredith said, tugging John’s arm.

  Even though she knew the Sanders were dead, she still felt like an intruder.

  She led John through the living room and into the dining room, then down a lone corridor beyond it. Although she wasn’t positive where the rifle would be—she wasn’t even sure they had one—she guessed that it would be in the bedroom.

  The bedroom was cluttered and torn apart. Meredith let go of John’s hand, and the two began their search. It didn’t take more than a minute to find what they were looking for. In the corner of the room was a gun cabinet.

  “Over here!”

  The oak cabinet was long and rectangular, sporting a beveled glass front and a keyhole on the side. Inside the cabinet was an identical pair of .22 caliber rifles.

  “His and hers.” John gave a wry grin.

  Meredith tried the door, but it was locked and wouldn’t budge.

  “Dammit. We need a key,” she said.

  She looked around the room, wondering where the key might be located. Was it on one of the Sanders’ key chains? If so, it was possible that the keys might be in Ben or Marcy’s pockets. If they couldn’t find a key, they’d have to break the glass.

  Aside from the gun cabinet, the room contained two bureaus, a bed, and a nightstand. Meredith moved toward the surrounding furniture and began opening drawers, starting with the closest bureau. She rifled through piles of underwear, socks, and t-shirts, but saw no sign of a key.

  John ducked out into the hallway.

  “I’ll check the kitchen,” he said. “If we don’t find it, we’ll break it open.”

  Meredith checked each drawer in turn, but with no luck. Having finished with the bureaus, she moved on to the nightstand. Inside the lone drawer was a pair of watches, a stack of jewelry, and two pairs of reading glasses.

  Underneath was a key.

  “I’ve got it!” she shouted.

  From the other room, she heard John rummaging through kitchen drawers. It appeared he hadn’t heard her. Undaunted, she brought the key over to the gun cabinet and slipped it into the lock. It fit perfectly. She turned, listened for the click, and then opened the door.

  She removed each of the rifles from their perches and laid them on the bed. The weapons felt good in her hands. Inside the cabinet were also several boxes of shells, and she pulled them out and set them next to the guns.

  It wasn’t until she shut the cabinet that she realized the other room had gone quiet.

  “John?”

  The house was silent. She peered into the hall but saw no sign of him. Where had he gone? She picked up one of the rifles and walked toward the doorway, her breath accelerating with each step. If he’d been in trouble, surely she would have heard it.

  Wouldn’t she have?

  The hallway was vacant. Down at the end, she could make out half of the kitchen and dining room, but saw no sign of the companion she’d arrived with. Rather than call out his name again, she treaded lightly, doing her best to deaden her footsteps on the floorboards.

  What if he’d turned?

  After all they’d been through, it was a possibility she’d never even considered. But now, walking through the silent household, she felt panic spreading like tendrils through her body.

  Everyone else in town had already been infected. What if John was next? Hell, what if she was? There was no way to know. Right?

  She crept forward, reaching the kitchen, and then stopped. The archway to the living room was on her left, and she glared into the room, hoping to find evidence of her missing companion.

  When she finally caught sight of him, she breathed a sigh of relief. John was pressed against the far wall staring at her.

  She advanced another step, but he held up his pointer finger to stop her. She followed his gaze to the other end of the kitchen and through the open back door.

  Pacing back and forth in a small garden was one of the creatures.

  The thing was wearing blue overalls and a baseball cap; Meredith recognized it as Paul Stevens, one of her distant neighbors. From what she could tell, Paul hadn’t seen them.

  Meredith kept to the edge of the kitchen, making her way along a refrigerator, cabinets, and a sink. Her hope was that she could reach the back door and close it. She clutched the rifle to her chest, hoping that she wouldn’t have to use it.

  When she reached the doorway, she peered outside. The creature had stopped next to a vine of tomatoes, sniffing the air. Meredith reached for the door handle. The hinges of the door swung outward. In order to reach it, she’d need to expose her arm outside, risking being seen. The creature was only twenty feet away.

  She reached out and clasped her fingers around the handle. Before she could pull it, Paul Stevens turned and looked at her. She cried out in surprise and slammed the door. Seconds later he began pounding against it with his fists. She flipped the catch and engaged the deadbolt.

  “I think that’s our cue to leave,” John said.

  Meredith held up her weapon.

  “The other rifle is in the bedroom. I found shells, too.”

  “Let’s grab them and get the hell out of here.”

  The two of them flew for the bedroom, gathered the remaining gun and ammunition, and made for the front door. If they were lucky, the locked back door would keep Paul Stevens occupied for a while.

  As they exited the house, Meredith could still see the back door rattling against the frame. She slammed the front door shut behind them, raced for the truck, and jumped inside.

  Ernie began to bark, his nose in the air, and she did her best to calm him down. John switched into reverse and backed up in a U-turn, then roared down the driveway.

  “That was a close call,” John said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

  “I’m glad you saw him before he saw us.”

  She held the rifle between her legs and stared out the window. Although they’d escaped unharmed, the fact that Paul Stevens had made it to the Sanders’ made her concerned. Where there was one thing roaming, there’d be others, and eventually they’d make their way to Meredith’s house.

  She just hoped that when the time came, they’d be able to ward them off. John looked over at her, seeming to read her thoughts.

  “Do you still want to go back home?”

  “Yes. If this is the end, John, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  He nodded and took her hand. Outside, the sights had returned to normal. Grass, fields, and sun abounded. She could already see her house on the horizon, and she tried to dispel thoughts that this would be the last time she’d see it from this angle.

  A few seconds later, John pulled the pickup into her driveway.

  Ernie had begun to pace on her lap, twisting in circles as if he were nervous.

  “What’s wrong, boy?”

  She scratched his head, but he continued to act anxious. Soon after he stopped in place and barked.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asked, patting his head.
>
  When she followed the dog’s stare, she saw what’d spooked him. Parked at the top of her driveway, covered in metal and graffiti, was a car she didn’t recognize.

  27

  Dan sat in the SUV and stared at the empty driveway. His heart sank. The windows of Meredith Tilly’s house were boarded up; there was no sign of life from inside. He’d tried knocking on the doors several times, but to no avail.

  It was possible she didn’t even live here anymore.

  How long has it been, Dan? Five years?

  He shouldn’t have let things go on this long. He should have patched things up years ago.

  He thought back to the arguments that his wife and sister-in-law had had. In hindsight, everything seemed so insignificant. There was no reason that Quinn should have been kept from her aunt for so long, no excuse for him not picking up a phone. Even if Julie hadn’t called her, he should’ve called her himself.

  Unfortunately, letting things go had been easier than fighting for them.

  He put his head down on the steering wheel and sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his daughter watching him. He knew that he had to be strong, but all he felt like doing was giving up.

  “Dad?”

  He felt a hand on his arm, and he clenched his eyes shut.

  “Dad?”

  He breathed a long sigh.

  “What is it, honey?”

  “Someone’s coming up the driveway.”

  Dan snapped to attention. He jolted upright, removed his pistol, and turned his head. His daughter was right. Advancing toward them was a black pickup truck. He squinted but was unable to make out the details of its occupants through the sun’s glare. From what he could tell, there were two people in the vehicle.

  It looked like a man was driving.

  “Who is it, Dad?”