Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  She wished nothing but the best for him.

  The trip went faster than the day before. With a night’s rest under their belts, and Simon stitched up, they were able to pick up the pace. They hiked the same valley and mountain path they’d taken the day before, recognizing several landmarks. Even Anabel kept up with the grownups, her small legs pumping as she hiked.

  “Are we going home now?” she asked Hector and Marcia.

  “I’m not sure, honey,” Hector said. “But we’ll see.”

  Sandy had barely blinked before several hours had passed. They traveled over the hill and through the thick forest, approaching the campground. The minivan was in the same place in which they had left it. Two creatures hovered around the vehicle, staring through the open driver’s side window. Their hisses carried over the wind. It had been long enough since they’d seen one of the creatures that Sandy had almost convinced herself they weren’t real.

  They disposed of the things with knives to the head, and then packed their belongings inside. Other than a thin layer of pine needles stuck to the windshield, the vehicle was untouched. They got inside with haste and assumed the positions that had become routine, by now.

  “Are you sure you’re up for driving?” Hector asked Sandy.

  “Yes,” she said, “I want to.”

  She looked in the backseat. Marcia and Anabel gave her frightened but hopeful smiles. Simon gave her a confident nod.

  She started the car. Several creatures lurked through the campsite as they drove through it, staring at the vehicle.

  “Is it just me, or are they moving slower than before?” Sandy asked.

  Hector watched them with a curious expression on his face. “Maybe they’re tired. Maybe they’ve had enough.”

  “I think we all have,” Simon agreed.

  51

  The journey down the mountain was uneventful. They passed several abandoned, wrecked vehicles, but the turnoffs to the campsites looked just as deserted as when they’d passed them on the way up. Sandy’s foot began to tire from driving. She felt as if she were constantly hitting the brakes, descending down a mountain that was treacherous to climb, and was no less treacherous to descend. She kept away from the edge and steered with caution.

  Soon they were rolling into town. Sandy kept her eyes on the lifeless streets. Her hope was that they’d see a cavalry of military and police officers, waiting for them, but the town was as empty as before. The wind gusted, carrying several papers over the hood of the minivan. One of them stuck to the grille, flapping and unsticking.

  “What if something happened, and no one’s here?” she asked.

  The others watched the road in silence, hit with the first moment of despair since leaving.

  “We need to get across town,” Hector said, pointing at one of the turns. “That’s the only way we’ll know for sure.”

  Sandy took the turns with a practiced ease, driving around wrecked vehicles and rubbish that would’ve been out of place just a while ago, but was commonplace now. They drove through some of the same streets they’d traveled before, heading to the other side of town, keeping away from the main roads. Soon they were approaching the street to which Carter had directed them.

  Gunshots pierced the air.

  Sandy stiffened and clutched the wheel.

  “What was that?” Marcia whispered from the backseat.

  She slowed the vehicle to a crawl as she tried to determine the source of the noise. In the backseat, Simon, Marcia, and Anabel strained to get a better view.

  They scrutinized the area, looking past industrial buildings that had sprung up on either side of the road. Cars turned at various angles blocked their view of the roadway. The noise seemed to be coming from a few streets away.

  “The commotion is coming from where we’re headed,” Hector said nervously. “Should we turn around?”

  A spike of fear coursed through Sandy at the thought of coming across more violent, crazed individuals.

  “Wait. I see something,” Hector said, peering out the windshield.

  Suddenly, Anabel spoke up. “Army people!”

  Several men in army fatigues came into view as they rounded a bend, pointing guns at creatures in the road, shooting them down. As they curved with the road, Sandy saw a line of military Humvees and jeeps parked across the street—a glimmer of order in an otherwise chaotic landscape. Groups of men with masks uncurled a fence, staking it off in the ground. Behind them, a few more were setting up tents. The men in fatigues looked up, noticing the minivan.

  “My God,” Marcia said as she hugged Anabel. “Carter was right.”

  “Put your guns on the floor,” Hector said as he looked at the others. “We don’t want them to think we’re dangerous.”

  Sandy pulled up, stopping several hundred feet away from the soldiers. She let the vehicle idle as several soldiers cautiously approached them. Men wearing masks came up to the driver’s side, instructing Sandy and the others to put their hands in the air. They complied without argument. Sandy watched the approaching soldiers in disbelief, still shocked to see them, still shocked that it wasn’t a dream.

  One of the soldiers took the lead. His hair was dark underneath his military cap.

  “Are you armed?” he called in.

  “Our weapons are on the floor.”

  “We’ll need you to leave them where they are.”

  “Of course.” Sandy swallowed, caught between nervousness and relief.

  “Are any of you infected?” he asked, as several people in white Hazmat suits approached the vehicle.

  “No,” Sandy said, realizing how lucky she was to speak those words.

  “We’ll need to check you out.”

  “Of course. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “You’re the first survivors we’ve found alive in St. Matthews. I’m Sgt. Hicks.”

  Gunfire rattled in the background as Sgt. Hicks led them to a medical tent that was just being set up. They watched as a bustle of military, CDC, and other teams established fences outside the perimeter, while others warded off the roaming infected.

  “You’ll need to be tested for signs of the infection,” Sgt. Hicks explained, as they waited for the team to get supplies in place. “We need to make sure you aren’t a danger to anyone.”

  “I understand,” Sandy said.

  Hicks cleared his throat as he prepared more instructions. “You’ll spend a few hours in medical, being tested and observed. When you’re finished and cleared, we’ll take statements.” He paused, his demeanor turning from stern to compassionate. “I know you’ve been through a lot. Frankly, we could use all the information we can get.”

  Sandy and her companions followed Hicks to a medical tent, where they were tested and observed. The examinations felt like they went on forever—pokes, prods and blood tests, questions that Sandy felt like she answered several times. But she understood the precaution. Being tested was better than the alternative: being left to deal with the creatures in a violent, unpredictable world. She was glad they’d gotten to safety.

  When they’d finished, Hicks brought them to a long, white trailer. Sandy waited her turn while Simon went first. A military woman with the name badge “Johnson” was ordered to stand guard next to them while the fences were still being finished.

  Turning to Hector, Sandy said, “I never thought I’d see this much order again.”

  “It’s unbelievable,” Hector marveled.

  The gunfire had died down, but the soldiers had taken to walking the perimeter, surveying the mountains and the roads. Others unfolded tents, setting them up with ease. In one tent, Sandy saw people unpacking what looked like cooking supplies. She hadn’t eaten much since leaving Carter’s. They’d only had a light breakfast. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food.<
br />
  “We’ll get you something to eat soon,” said Johnson, determining the reason behind Sandy’s gaze. Johnson’s smile was stoic, but warm.

  Before Sandy could answer, the trailer door opened and Simon came out, watching her.

  “Your turn,” he told Sandy.

  52

  The trailer was as clean and organized as the rest of camp. Several shelves full of files and computers lined one wall. The floor was immaculate. Hicks and another man with white hair sat in chairs opposite Sandy, taking notes as they questioned her.

  The men exchanged a glance before asking, “If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like you to tell the story of how you ended up here.”

  Sandy launched into her tale without hesitation, telling of how she’d discovered her brother, how she’d hid out in St. Matthews, and how they’d escaped the lumberyard. She said that they’d begun searching for help in the mountains, but had returned when they hadn’t found it. She made sure to give them information on Dan and Quinn, but she left out anything about Carter.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Hicks told her. His expression seemed genuine.

  “How long will we be staying here?” Sandy asked.

  “We’re not sure yet,” the second man admitted. “We’re in the beginning stages of knowing the scope of this thing. But your information will be helpful as we try to find others.”

  “I hope there are others to find,” Sandy said.

  “We’ve had some encouraging reports from some of the other camps,” Hicks told her. “I have faith.”

  Sandy stood next to Simon as they looked over the newly constructed fences and tents, marveling at how empty they looked. In the coming days, those tents would fill with people, if Hicks were to be believed.

  “There are bound to be other people who were immune,” Simon said, watching the campsite.

  “I hope so.”

  Behind them, Hector, Marcia, and Anabel hugged each other, grateful to be alive and safe. Sandy waited until Johnson had roamed farther away before she said anything else.

  “What did you tell them?” Sandy asked, looking sideways at the trailer where they’d been questioned.

  “The truth, for the most part,” Simon said.

  “Did you say anything about Carter?” Sandy asked.

  “No.” Simon shook his head, a smile crossing his face. “I wouldn’t break that promise. The others won’t, either.”

  “Good,” Sandy said. She smiled and looked up at the mountains, picturing Carter sitting on some distant perch, watching them. She hoped he found peace, whether or not he found his sons. “We owe him for helping us.”

  She switched her focus to the soldiers milling around the campsite, some of who had finished setting up tents. She wondered which ones would house them. Would they have their own? Sandy couldn’t imagine having a living space that she didn’t share. Even at the lumberyard, she’d been lucky to get a spot to sleep on that wasn’t right next to the others, with the constant need to keep guard over one another.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car rolling up to the gate. Some of the soldiers stiffened. They made for the entrance, guns drawn as a brown sedan with scrapes and dents came to a slow stop in front of the compound.

  “Who’s that?” Simon asked, frowning.

  “I’m not sure.” Sandy shared his expression as they jogged toward the gate.

  As they got closer, she half-hoped she’d find someone she recognized, but she’d never seen the people before. A man with a beard was hugging what appeared to be his wife. The survivors talked excitedly, pointing at the campground with the same look of hope that Sandy had probably just a few hours ago. The men in Hazmat suits led them from the vehicle, taking the same precautions they’d taken with Sandy and her group. Sandy bit her lip as she watched them.

  “What were you thinking?” Simon asked.

  “I was just thinking it might be Dan and Quinn,” Sandy admitted. “Or Carter’s sons.”

  “Me, too,” Simon said.

  They watched the newcomers talk animatedly for several minutes as the gates were opened and they were led inside. More men in protective suits surrounded them, ushering them toward the medical trailer.

  “Dan and Quinn were heading over the mountains, right?” Simon asked.

  “Yes. That was what they said. I was hoping we’d run into them while we were up there.”

  Simon stared down the road as he reflected on it. “You remember what I said about finding the compound?”

  “Of course. You said you had a good feeling about it.”

  “Well, I have a good feeling about Dan and Quinn, too.”

  Sandy smiled. “You know what? So do I.”

  She let her smile linger as she took Simon’s arm, leading him back toward the tents, where the smell of fresh cooked food drifted over the campsite.

  THE END

  AFTERWORD

  Hello!

  If you’re reading this, I’ll assume that you have finished reading the Contamination Super Boxed Set Books 0-7. If so, I’d like to thank you for your interest and support. Each of these books has been a pleasure to write, and I hope you have enjoyed reading them as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.

  What’s next? If you haven’t checked out the standalone book Contamination: Dead Instinct, you can get that book now. I’ve had some requests for a follow-up to that story, so you never know when that might appear.

  Again, please accept my eternal thanks for reading this far. I have a lot of other stories planned (both zombie-related and otherwise), and hopefully we will meet again at some point in the future!

  Want more? Leave a review and let me know. Reviews are like report cards. I never know what grade I’m going to get, but I always hope for an “A”.

  Until next time,

  -Tyler William Piperbrook

  October 2016

  P.S. For a preview of Contamination: Dead Instinct, simply flip the page!

  PREVIEW OF CONTAMINATION: DEAD INSTINCT

  AVAILABLE NOW!

  PART ONE – SITUATION DEGENERATES

  1

  “If you say a word, I’ll kill you,” Ken said, pointing the gun at the man next to him. He pulled the man behind the liquor store counter, his gaze flitting across the aisles. Ken’s wife was crouched on his right. She stared at him with panicked eyes. She was holding a gun, too, but she’d never used one.

  Ken peered over the counter, past the aisles and through the shattered storefront windows. Two men in dark T-shirts were heading toward the store, their boots crushing gravel. Both were tall and muscled—in much better shape than Ken—and both wore army pants. One of them sported a moustache, and his face was twisted in a grin.

  In his hand was the head of one of the infected.

  Ken had watched the man slice it from an already-dead body in the parking lot, joking with his friend at the mess he’d made. Now he was holding it by the hair. Ken could only guess what the man would do to him and his wife if they were found.

  He watched in horror as the man tossed the head across the parking lot. The head rolled across the pavement, picking up speed, and then ricocheted off a nearby Dumpster.

  A week ago, a virus had ravaged the Southwest, overtaking the majority of the population with sickness. Once-normal people had been turned into bloodthirsty lunatics, bent on rending the survivors limb from limb. Those that hadn’t turned wished they had. Aside from the roaming infected, the streets were filled with violent, sadistic individuals.

  Men like the ones outside.

  Ken swallowed as he watched them approach. Their voices echoed across the parking lot.

  “Let’s have a look in the store,” the mustached man said to his friend, gesturing toward the building.

  “Sounds good.”


  “Is David in there?”

  “Damned if I know. The fucker is always taking off. I told him to wait, but he wouldn’t listen…”

  The two men advanced toward the store.

  Ken heard a muffled cough to his left and turned to face the man he was pointing the gun at. The man was covered in dirt and blood, and his forehead was bleeding. A few minutes earlier, the man had stumbled on him and Roberta and tried to attack them.

  Luckily, Ken had gotten the upper hand.

  “Let me go, or they’ll kill you,” the man hissed.

  Ken jabbed the pistol into the man’s side, prompting him to be quiet. The truth was, the men would kill them either way if they were discovered.

  Ken’s eyes darted to the rear of the store. Behind him was a back door that was barricaded with boxes and shelves. More than likely, a survivor had secured the door back when the infection began. There’d be no getting through it easily. He met Roberta’s eyes. He could tell she was contemplating the same thing.

  “We’ll never make it,” he whispered to her.

  She nodded, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

  “At least let me stretch,” the injured man complained. “My legs are getting cramped. Both of you have guns, anyway. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  Ken looked at his pistol, then back at the man.

  “No way. Keep still.”

  Even if he wanted to let the man go, it was too late. All he could do now was try to keep the man quiet in the hopes that the three of them could stay undetected.