Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  Did it even matter anymore?

  Caddy withdrew her knife. Tommy pawed the air, testing the waters. Caddy inched backward, trying to gauge the distance behind her. If she made a break for the counter, he’d catch her.

  She couldn’t risk it. She had to stand and fight.

  She studied the man—creature—in front of her. Tommy was over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds. There was no way she could knock him off-balance. She could come at him with the knife, but if she missed…

  The creature swung.

  His arm came within inches of her, and Caddy barely ducked the blow. She stumbled backward, fumbling with the tops of the barstools. Tommy was off-balance. Go. Go.

  Caddy fled deeper into the diner. Glass and food crunched under her shoes. She leapt over a carcass on the floor. In no time she’d maneuvered around the counter, heading for the open door that led to the back room.

  The place where she’d left her boss’s body.

  But there was no time to think about that now. Caddy could only run. Run and hide and try to stay alive.

  She whipped through the doorway, Tommy right behind her, and tried to slam it shut. The wood crashed into his bulky frame, splintering and cracking under his weight.

  So much for keeping him out.

  The back room was a mess of shelves and condiments, most of which she’d knocked over during her last shift. Underneath one of them was the body of Darlene Tanner, the head waitress. The woman’s body had started to decompose, filling the air with the fetid odor of her flesh. Caddy’s eyes watered at the sight and smell.

  The rear door was twenty feet away. To Caddy’s dismay, it was closed.

  Even if she were to make a break for it, she’d have to contend with shelves and debris. There was no time. She pedaled backward, watching her attacker.

  Tommy sprang. This time, there was no dodging him.

  The young man crashed into her, taking her to the floor. His breath hit her like a tidal wave—a mix of salt and sand and sewage. His teeth clicked and clacked, his hands burrowed into her clothing. She clung to her knife, fighting for leverage, using both hands and feet to ward him off.

  She’d been in a similar position with him in high school—on the night they’d shared conversation and a kiss—but back then, the situation had been different. At the time she’d been enamored with the high school track star. He’d been a senior and she’d been a junior; he’d been popular, while she’d barely been noticed. They’d been flirting for weeks in class, and after several awkward conversations, he’d invited her to watch his practice.

  They’d been sitting on the bleachers at Chester High when it happened. Caddy had spent the last few hours cheering from the sidelines while Tommy had stolen glances at her from the field. By the time they’d sat together on the stands, shortly after everyone else had gone home, there was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kiss her.

  The attention had made her feel special and wanted, the opposite of the way she’d felt for most of her life.

  The opposite of the way she felt now.

  Tommy’s body stank of garbage, and his weight was like an anvil threatening to crush her. Caddy bucked and writhed, doing everything in her power to break free.

  “Get off me!” she shouted.

  If Tommy understood her, he made no effort to comply.

  With both of her arms pinned, she was helpless. Tommy leaned closer, mouth inches from her face, preparing to bite.

  Come on, Caddy!

  She pushed with all her strength.

  Mercifully, her right arm—the one that held the knife—slid free, and she reared back and jabbed it into Tommy’s ribcage. The creature wheezed and thrashed on top of her.

  Caddy continued to stab him. Once. Twice. Three times. With each blow, his grip weakened. Finally, she slid out from beneath him.

  Tommy remained on the ground, fluid leaking from his wounds, but he showed no signs of pain. After a few seconds, he clambered to his knees, hissing and spitting, repositioning for attack.

  Caddy couldn’t allow that. With a feral cry—one she hardly recognized as her own—she leapt up and plunged the blade into the top of his skull.

  Tommy Prentiss faltered, then sank to the floor.

  He hadn’t been that great a kisser, anyway.

  5

  Noah ran through the forest for what felt like miles. The punishing rays of the sun made him feel light-headed; his legs felt like dumbbells. His throat was parched and sore. He needed water. He needed rest. But he couldn’t allow himself to stop.

  Not until he was certain he was safe.

  The forest was a multitude of hiding places, and any one of them could be fortressing the men. He hadn’t heard them for miles, but he wasn’t convinced he was in the clear.

  He’d killed two of them. That meant others would be coming.

  He was sure of it.

  Tears streaked his face as he relived what had just occurred. The memory of the man’s impaled neck was imprinted on his brain. He’d already added it to his collection of memories: an image of bloodshed and savagery stockpiled for eternal playback.

  The images shuffled like flashcards.

  Overhead, the caw of a bird startled him, and he aimed the rifle at the sky. Calm down, Noah. It took several minutes for his heart rate to settle. He wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath.

  It wasn’t just the men he was afraid of. It was also the infected.

  It’d been half a day since he’d seen one of the creatures, and he was long overdue. At any moment, he expected one of them to pop out and attack him. If he ran into one on foot, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Discharging his weapon would give away his location.

  If he fired, the men would find him.

  He continued through the forest. Each passing minute felt like an hour. After walking for miles, he heard the distant sound of an engine. His heart thundered. Had his pursuers circled around on some unseen road, intending to flush him out?

  He halted.

  The engine increased in volume. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. He peered through the forest until he could make out an object through the trees. He saw a blurred shape—an outline of doors and tires—and his body went rigid.

  To his surprise, the vehicle wasn’t the Ford pickup that had chased him, but a vehicle painted black and green.

  Camouflage. Was it an army truck?

  Noah’s legs wobbled, and he clung to the bark of the nearest tree to keep his balance. If it was indeed an army vehicle, he needed to get to the road. Perhaps the men inside could assist him. At the very least, they could bring him somewhere safe.

  He forced himself onward. The vehicle was out of sight, but he could hear the roar of others.

  Hurry!

  He weaved through the underbrush, doing his best to follow the clearest path. Several times he tripped, but each time he caught himself and managed to keep upright. The trees slipped by like silent sentinels.

  He was almost to the road. He could see pavement through the trees, the yellow lines that marked the street’s center.

  “Over here! Help!” he shouted.

  He emerged from the forest, heart brimming with hope. Over the past few days, he’d seen his best friend die, his former comrades wounded, and a slew of people infected or killed. Through it all, he’d held out hope of rescue, even though it had seemed futile.

  And now here it was right in front of him. All he needed to do was get to it.

  He ran up the road, his shoes slapping the pavement. His lungs heaved, his vision blurred. Even if the men were behind him, the presence of the military would stave them off. Right?

  They wouldn’t gun him down in the open. Would they?

  He continued
up the road until he’d run several hundred feet from where he emerged. His head was still throbbing.

  It took him a few more seconds to realize the noises had faded. If there had been more vehicles, they’d already passed. He looked in all directions, but the road was desolate.

  Had he been seeing things?

  He didn’t think so, but the longer he waited, the deeper his doubt became.

  For several minutes he stared up the road, waiting for the vehicles to return. But there were no more noises and nothing in sight.

  The prospect of rescue, if it had ever been there at all, was gone.

  6

  Caddy waded through the tall grass, watching the center of Chester fade in the distance. In front of her was a thick section of forest. She made her way toward it, her canvas bag looped over one shoulder, the knife in her hand.

  Her pulse was still pounding from her encounter with Tommy, and she couldn’t get the image of Darlene out of her head. She’d killed them. She’d killed them both.

  The worst part was, they hadn’t been the only ones. In just a few short days she’d been forced to do things she’d never dreamed of, things she’d do anything to forget. And yet, she’d had to do those things to survive. If Caddy hadn’t reacted the way she had, she and her mother would both be dead.

  She tried to convince herself of these things as she raced through the knee-high grass, the blades whipping against her pant legs. It was times like these that made her feel like she was dreaming, that she’d wake up in the morning with a clear head and a clean conscience.

  Each new day was a grim reminder that her actions were real.

  Caddy pressed on. To her right she could make out the asphalt of the road. The sight of it filled her with sadness.

  If she’d been alone, Caddy would have taken the two-lane street, letting it lead her away from the town and its memories.

  Growing up, she’d buried her nose in travel books and catalogs, taking in the sights and scenery, planning the day she’d make her exit from Chester. Despite all her dreaming and planning, she’d never been able to make her hopes a reality.

  When she was fourteen, her mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

  According to the doctors, the disease was genetic. Caddy’s great aunt had had it as well. Her mother’s signs had been subtle at first—a forgotten word here or there, an occasional moment of disorientation.

  After Caddy had expressed her concern, her mother had agreed to go to the doctor. It had taken several weeks of testing to determine the problem.

  The diagnosis had devastated them both.

  In the beginning, things hadn’t changed. Caddy had continued to go to school; her mother had continued to go to work. A year later, her mother’s symptoms had gotten worse. She remembered one incident in particular.

  They’d been eating dinner, discussing the events of the day, when her mother had stopped mid-bite to stare at her.

  “What day is it?” she’d asked.

  Caddy had studied her mother for a minute before answering. They’d just spoken about what they’d do on Sunday. And now her mother was looking at her with a blank expression. Caddy had gently reminded her of the day.

  Her mother had responded by slamming down her fork.

  According to the doctor, the disease could be accompanied by changes in mood and personality. Caddy’s greatest fear was that her mother wouldn’t be her mother anymore. Caddy had excused herself from the table, and then had spent the next half hour in her bedroom, crying silently so her mother wouldn’t hear.

  Over the next few years, her mother’s condition had worsened. Her mother had been forced to leave her job, and Caddy had been forced to pick up extra hours at work to pitch in. In addition to going to school, she’d taken over the majority of the bills, watching her mother’s savings slowly diminish. Because the disease had struck her mother at a young age, state resources were limited.

  Caddy dreaded the day they’d need to hire a caregiver.

  As a result, the last four years had been a blur of work and school. Due to her mother’s condition, Caddy had spent most of her free time working. Her social life had been nonexistent. The only time she’d gotten out was to take a jog in the evenings, and only after her mother was situated.

  Come to think of it, her single kiss with Tommy Prentiss had been one of the highlights of her teenage years, but that wasn’t saying much.

  For the past eighteen years, Caddy had dreamed of the day when she could get out of Chester. And now, with the world in shambles, she couldn’t see it ever happening.

  Four days ago, all of the townsfolk had been transformed into raving lunatics, infected by a virus she couldn’t comprehend. Almost instantaneously, communication with the outside world had been lost.

  Frightened and alone, Caddy had managed to reach her house in time, securing the property as best she could. On the way home, she’d managed to lift a handgun from a fallen resident. When she’d reached her mother, the woman had been terrified and confused.

  Explaining the situation had been difficult, and keeping her mother calm and quiet had become a full-time job.

  With her mother in the condition she was in, Caddy couldn’t risk fleeing town.

  In the beginning, she’d taken small trips out of the neighborhood, doing her best to locate a working phone. But her efforts had been in vain. There’d been no sign of help and no means of assistance.

  And so Caddy survived and waited, hoping rescue was on the horizon. At the same time, she didn’t let her hopes get too high. For most of her life, Caddy had lived under the weight of unfairness and disappointment, and she was hesitant to get her hopes up now. The only thing she asked was that she and her mother live out their days together.

  If this was the end, there was no one she’d rather spend it with.

  Having crossed the open field, Caddy darted into the cover of the trees, heading toward the street she’d forever call home.

  Caddy had almost reached her house when she saw the young man stumbling through the trees. She stopped dead in her tracks, brandishing her knife in front of her. It’d been several days since she’d seen another survivor, and the ones she had seen in the past hadn’t been friendly.

  She slid behind the nearest tree, uncertain if he’d seen her. The young man was walking perpendicular to her. If she kept walking, she’d run into him. She waited a few seconds, listening for a change in his footsteps, a sign that he’d heard her, but he continued without hesitating.

  She peered around the tree.

  Although the man was several hundred feet away, she could see that he was in bad shape. His face was marred with blood, and he walked with a limp. In his hands was a rifle. She considered calling out to him, announcing her presence, but decided against it.

  The last thing she needed was to get shot.

  Instead she watched him disappear through the trees, unwilling to risk her safety and her mother’s. Her mind flashed back to the first days of the infection.

  There’d been other survivors at first. She’d watched them from the locked doors of her home, doing her best to keep her mother away from the windows. She’d even tried helping some of them.

  But one by one the people had turned.

  Their once-friendly faces had become masks of infection, former neighbors and teachers and grocery-store workers transformed into nothing more than snarling beasts. And so she’d learned to hide and keep quiet, knowing that one false move could precipitate the end.

  The only way to stay safe was to remain hidden.

  It was too dangerous to be out in the open. If she’d had food at home, she wouldn’t have gone outside in the first place. Engaging another survivor—especially one who was armed—would be irresponsible.

  Her mother was waiting for her.<
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  Caddy waited until the young man was out of sight, proceeding only when he was little more than a speck through the trees. She held the knife in front of her, searching the trees for signs that he wasn’t alone.

  Where there was one survivor, there could be others.

  The forest remained silent. She snuck through the trees, doing her best to muffle her footsteps, and headed toward home. The house was only minutes away. A ripple of fear washed over her. In another circumstance, the presence of another living person might have been reassuring, but instead it filled her with worry.

  Something about the young man’s disheveled appearance had rattled her. Where was he going, and what were his intentions? What if he stumbled on their house?

  Would he try to rob them like the others had?

  The young man was almost out of sight, but if she concentrated, she could see the hue of his purple shirt through the wilderness.

  Without warning, he collapsed.

  Caddy covered her hand with her mouth. Was he dead? There was no way he’d last on his own. If she didn’t help him, he’d be discovered by the infected.

  Caddy swallowed.

  Pushing her worries aside, she darted toward the fallen man.

  7

  It took Noah a full minute to realize he’d fallen. For the past few hours, he’d been running and hiding and surviving and his body had finally had enough. His head was pounding; his nerves were frayed. He squinted at the sun.

  The forest felt like it went on forever.

  He was no longer certain where he was or what direction he was traveling. Up until now he’d been following the progression of the sun, navigating his way west. Now he wasn’t sure where he’d ended up.

  Was he going the right way? Was there another road ahead?