Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  Quinn was in danger.

  The thought was almost more than Meredith could handle. She yelled for John, but he’d already fled the doorway and was starting back inside the house. She cleared the threshold, competing for space with Dan, following the bob of John’s flashlight.

  When she reached Quinn’s bedroom, John was kneeling on the floor next to her, shining the light on the little girl’s face. Her complexion was ashen, and she was gagging and coughing.

  “Quinn, what’s wrong?” Meredith asked.

  She placed her hand on the girl’s forehead. Dan crouched next to her, his face twisted with worry. Quinn pointed to her throat.

  “I can’t breathe,” she managed.

  In the midst of her coughing fit, the little girl had kicked off the blankets, and her body looked thin and pale.

  “I’ll get her some water,” John said, darting for the kitchen.

  “Relax, honey,” Dan said. “Tell me what hurts.”

  John returned with a bottle of water, and he uncapped it and handed it to Quinn. She managed to sit up and take a few sips. The girl had stopped coughing, but she was wheezing. Underneath her head were two pillows. Dan reached over and pulled one out. He frowned. “This is a feather pillow. I don’t remember her having this last night.”

  “Did you pull that from the closet, sweetie?” Meredith asked.

  The little girl nodded.

  “This probably triggered her asthma. It’s been getting worse lately,” Dan said, placing it on the floor. He brushed the hair from her face. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. We’re here with you. You’re going to be fine.”

  Meredith smiled.

  They stayed with her awhile, until her wheezing had subsided. When she was breathing normally again, Dan looked at Meredith.

  “Is there a pharmacy in town?” he asked.

  “Yes, a few miles away.”

  “I’d feel better if we had an inhaler on hand, just in case.”

  “I can go to the pharmacy,” Meredith offered.

  “I’ll go,” Dan argued. “It’s too dangerous. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll—”

  “I’m more familiar with Settler’s Creek than you are. I can get in and out in a hurry.”

  “Meredith’s got a point,” John piped up. “She knows this town better than anyone. I’ll go with her, and we’ll be in and out in no time.”

  “Why don’t you wait until daytime,” Dan said.

  “It’s almost daylight,” John said. “Don’t worry, Dan. We’ll take care of it.”

  Meredith nodded in agreement. She brushed the hair from Quinn’s face, then kissed her forehead. The little girl’s skin was hot and clammy.

  “We’ll be back in a while, sweetheart. Just stay with your daddy and hang tight. Okay?”

  “All right,” Quinn said, putting on a brave face.

  Despite the little girl’s words, Meredith could sense that she was frightened. It didn’t seem fair this should happen—not after losing her mother, not after all the violence she’d seen.

  Meredith and John walked out of the bedroom with Dan close behind.

  “Don’t take any chances. If things look too bad out there…”

  “We’ll turn right around and come back,” Meredith promised.

  Dan nodded grimly. He gave her a quick hug, then returned to the bedroom.

  Meredith walked through the hallway and into the kitchen. As she maneuvered through the house, she surveyed the objects on the counter. The group had amassed a stash of food and supplies. Their original plan had been to stay at the Sanders’ as long as they could, living off the land and making use of their provisions.

  Meredith couldn’t help but think that plan would change soon.

  She snatched a set of car keys from the counter and stuffed them into her pocket. John was already at the back door, and she heard him sigh as he unlocked it.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

  As Meredith crossed the threshold, the fear she’d felt moments earlier crawled back inside her, as if it’d been waiting outside by the door. She and John crept across the property, rounding the house and entering the front yard. The moon glinted off the tips of the grass and cast vague shadows, but when she strained, she could discern the lumps of the three dead creatures on the lawn.

  To her left were the outlines of the two cars they’d kept at the property—Meredith’s pickup truck with its shattered front window and the graffiti-covered SUV Dan had found on I-40.

  Meredith walked toward the SUV. Of the two vehicles, the SUV was more protected. The sides were reinforced with sheets of metal. Sharp objects protruded from the side. Unlike the pickup truck’s, its windshield was intact.

  She unlocked the doors, got inside, and stuck the key in the ignition. John scooted in the front passenger seat. Through the windshield, she could see the dim outline of the house they’d left. She started the car and turned on the headlights, then reversed. As she pulled down the driveway, she thought she saw the glow of a flashlight behind one of the boarded windows—Dan watching her, perhaps—but couldn’t be certain.

  She turned her attention to the road. It’d been several days since they’d been to the center of town. The thought of it had her stomach in tangles.

  “You don’t have to do this, Meredith,” John said, sensing her unease. “If you give me directions, I can take care of it.”

  “No. I’m going, John.”

  John fell silent, as if he knew not to argue, and Meredith felt both guilty and grateful at the same time. Through all the obstacles they’d faced, John had been her pillar of support, her link to sanity, and she appreciated every minute she was able to spend with him. The headlights bobbed up and down on the asphalt as they backed down the driveway.

  Out of habit, Meredith stopped at the end, checking the rural two-lane road for traffic. The street was empty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a moving car other than her own. She hit the gas and reversed into the street, then started for town.

  As they drove, the streetlights passed over them like sightless orbs, dim and menacing. She kept her speed even and her vehicle in the lane, despite having little expectation they’d have company on the road.

  “I hate leaving them,” Meredith said, referring to Dan and Quinn.

  She watched the Sanders’ house disappear in the rearview mirror. It was one of the few times they’d been separated since Dan and Quinn had arrived. On most of the supply runs they’d taken, they’d gone together.

  “I know what you mean,” John said.

  Meredith smiled. John had only recently met her brother-in-law and niece, but they’d gotten along like old friends.

  “I can’t believe how grown-up Quinn has gotten. You wouldn’t believe it, John. When I last saw her, she was only this high.” She held her hand near her waist. “I hope she’ll be okay. That asthma attack had me worried.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” John reassured her. “Once we get her medicine, she’ll be in good shape.”

  Meredith smiled. In spite of John’s optimism, she was nervous.

  She reached over and brushed his hand, searching for his fingers. He took hold of her. She noticed his other hand didn’t leave his pistol.

  3

  When Meredith and John reached the edge of town, the first corners of daylight were creeping into the sky. It’d been days since they’d traveled, and the streets filled Meredith with a sense of foreboding. Even though the roads were empty, the painted white and yellow lines were like a roadmap to the death and destruction that awaited them.

  As they rounded a bend, she saw a familiar building.

  John’s furniture store.

  She let her foot off the gas as they pa
ssed, allowing them to get a better look. The place where John had worked seemed foreign and strange, as if they’d left it behind years ago instead of days. The door hung open; the exterior was battered and stained.

  Meredith glanced at her riding companion. The building had once been his dream, his livelihood. Now it was nothing more than a reminder of the horrors they’d both endured.

  John stared at it in silence.

  She swallowed and hit the gas, paying attention to the road. A mile down the road, the scenery gave way to buildings. Several abandoned cars lined the roadside, and she studied them for signs of life.

  “I don’t remember those cars.” She pointed to the roadside.

  “I don’t either. We’ll have to keep a lookout. Maybe there are other survivors in town.”

  The two of them fell silent. Meredith had grown so accustomed to her small group that it almost seemed odd to think others might be occupying Settler’s Creek. It felt like the entire town had become their own personal refuge, and the rest of the world had succumbed to chaos.

  Farther down the road, a group of infected congregated in the street, their bodies swaying as they walked. Meredith swerved to avoid them, as if they were nothing more than cones on an obstacle course.

  “They really are getting slower,” she observed.

  John shifted in his seat.

  “Hopefully this’ll be over soon,” he said. “I can’t wait to get out of here for good.”

  The infected moaned, answering some unspoken question. Meredith scanned the faces for people she recognized, but was relieved to find only strangers.

  She knew she wouldn’t be so lucky in town.

  Before long, they’d reached the town center. Commercial and residential buildings sprung up to meet them, like movie props that had been constructed for the occasion. She perused the doorways and signs, comparing her memories of the town with the ghost town before her.

  Gone were the quaint activities of the townspeople—the farmers selling produce, the store owners cleaning windows, the patrons strolling the sidewalks. The streets were a mix of dead bodies and the roaming infected, and the scene made her nauseous.

  Despite the chaos, there were fewer infected than Meredith remembered. Upon entering the town, she’d expected to be surrounded. But the infected were more spread out. A few of the creatures wandered into the vicinity, but most remained in place, glaring at the SUV with empty eyes, as if they knew the end was near.

  After navigating a few more streets, Meredith sighted the pharmacy in the distance. The front windows had been busted; bottles and merchandise were flung on the sidewalk and street.

  “I’ll pull around back,” she said.

  John sat rigid in his seat, his gun raised, as if the cold reality of leaving the vehicle had just hit him. Whether the creatures were slow or not, walking among them was dangerous.

  Meredith swerved down a narrow alley between two buildings. She veered around behind the pharmacy. The back door hung open, as if the employees were waiting inside, ready to assist with whatever they needed. But she knew that was far from the case. She parked so that John’s door was parallel to the entrance, about fifteen feet away—enough space to provide a buffer zone if something was lurking inside, but close enough to make a hasty retreat if needed.

  She surveyed the open building. The store seemed empty. She reached for the driver’s door, but John grabbed her arm.

  “If it looks bad, we leave,” he said. “Agreed?”

  She nodded. As slow as the creatures seemed, she knew it was easy to be swarmed. Their eyes met for a brief second—the possibility of death passing between them unspoken—and then the two of them exited the vehicle.

  4

  Tim Keller ignored the girl’s screams.

  He’d heard plenty of screams before, and the sound was nothing new. It was as commonplace as the rustle of the wind or birds chirping overhead. His victims were always screaming, trying to change their circumstances, trying to change his mind.

  None of them ever succeeded.

  He’d found the girl in the back of a pickup truck, lodged between several bags of clothing and a mattress. She’d been in rough shape—half-starved and dehydrated, nursing several wounds. He’d coaxed her from hiding, offering assistance and a safer place to stay.

  As soon as he’d gained her trust, he’d attacked her and tied her up. Now it was time for the real fun to begin.

  He watched with a smile as she struggled against her bonds. He’d secured her to a bike rack in the center of town, tying her hands to one of the metal poles, but he’d left her feet free. Then he’d climbed onto a nearby rooftop—close enough to watch, but far enough away to avoid danger.

  At the end of the street, a dozen infected milled in her direction. The girl screamed at Keller to release her. She strained against the bike rack, pulling so hard that it scraped across the ground, moving an inch at a time.

  That was the beauty of it.

  With every scrape, every scream, she was drawing the things to her, and yet she was powerless to keep quiet. She was so close to freedom and yet so far. Panic had taken over, and she was fighting with everything she had to break free.

  Keller laughed. He withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, drawing a deep breath. He’d never bought into the agents’ philosophies.

  He’d called bullshit from the beginning.

  A few days ago, he’d been stationed in Oklahoma City with a group of other agents when they’d received word that their compound had been breached. In just a few days, the entire plan had been compromised, and the majority of the leaders had been killed or taken into custody. From what he’d heard, the government was working to restore order.

  He didn’t give a shit about the agents’ plan.

  Sure, he agreed with the basic premise of what the agents were trying to accomplish. But he didn’t care about the details. His motivations were simple and selfish.

  He wanted civilization to fall so he could play in the remains.

  And that time had come.

  As soon as Tim had received word that the compound had been attacked, he’d jumped at the opportunity, picking off his group of agents one by one. He’d waited until they were in close quarters, and then he’d slit their throats. As fun as that sounded, it hadn’t been enjoyable. He’d rather have taken his time.

  But he’d done what he had to do. He’d made sacrifices to ensure he’d have this time to himself.

  Half the thrill was in the anticipation.

  Like the anticipation of watching the girl in front of him struggle.

  Sooner or later, the infected would reach her, drawn by her screams. And when they did, they’d tear her apart. And Tim would be there, waiting for that moment, savoring every second.

  What good was bloodshed if it couldn’t be enjoyed?

  5

  Meredith left the keys in the vehicle, the engine running.

  Other than the hum of the SUV’s engine, the area was quiet. She shut the door quietly, trying to preserve the calm. Even so, the hinges creaked, and the noise felt like an alarm. Her footsteps sounded like a stampede.

  John walked a few steps ahead of her. She raised her pistol and advanced toward the door of the pharmacy, falling in line behind him. She noticed he was still favoring his left leg. A few days prior, he’d been injured in a battle with the creatures, and though he was healing well, he hadn’t fully recovered.

  The thought of his injury gave her a shiver of unease. It was a sordid reminder of their mortality. But she didn’t want to think about that. Not now.

  She followed John through the door.

  The pharmacy was a maze of overturned shelves and prescription bottles. Meredith stepped carefully, knowing one misplaced foot could bring the attention of the creatures. She
scanned the store with nervous eyes. Sports drinks littered the floor, their caps torn off, the liquid spilled and puddled. Several packages of chips had been opened and scattered, as if someone had been interrupted while trying to consume them. The air was thick with blood.

  In spite of that, she saw no bodies. She continued forward, grateful to be spared the carnage for a change.

  John was already on his knees, digging quietly through the bottles and debris.

  “Cover me,” he whispered, nodding to the front window.

  Through the smashed panes, she saw several creatures meandering on the street, about fifty yards away. Their mouths hung open, tongues darting between missing teeth. Their bodies were pale and scabbed. A week ago, the sight would have been frightening and unreal, and Meredith would have found herself questioning both her vision and her sanity. Now the creatures were as commonplace as the buzzards flying overhead.

  It was as if she and John were the intruders, not the other way around. They were outnumbered, and the best course of action was to avoid confrontation.

  John was still scavenging the floor when one of the infected glanced at them through the broken storefront window. Meredith went stock-still, hoping its gaze wouldn’t linger. The creature had short gray hair and wore a construction cap. Two others shuffled behind it.

  The pistol felt slippery in her palms.

  She opened her mouth to alert John, but her fear kept her quiet. The thing’s eyes penetrated the store. She watched its head cock to the side, as if it were an animal rather than a man, a predator in human’s clothing.

  “John,” she whispered.

  “I’ve got something,” John hissed from the ground.

  She let her attention fall for a second—just long enough to see John holding up several small boxes—and then flicked her eyes back to the window. The creature was moving toward the pharmacy. Faster than expected.