contamination 7 resistance con

by Unknown

  The vehicle slowed to a crawl.

  With each rotation of the tires, Sandy made out a little more of the distant, moving figure. It was a woman, pinned to a tree at the edge of the road. Her long hair whipped back and forth over her face as she shrieked in agony. She waved desperate, pleading hands at them. It wasn't until they were twenty yards away that Sandy saw the long knife protruding from her belly.

  "Oh my God!" Hector said.

  "We have to help her!" Marcia cried.

  Simon leaned forward and turned in his seat, as if someone might be waiting to spring out and ambush them. Sandy saw no one in the vicinity.

  "What do we do?" she hissed.

  "Pull up slowly," Simon instructed. "Keep an eye out. We'll help her."

  Sandy looked in the rearview mirror. The road was narrow enough that turning around wouldn't be easy. Looking back at the pinned person, she wondered what sort of monster would leave a person to bleed out and die. But she knew. People like the men they'd encountered at the elementary school, or some of the men they'd met in town.

  She crept slowly as they approached the woman. The woman's cries of pain drifted through the cracked windows. Sandy kept her foot on the brake as they rolled adjacent to her.

  "We're here to help!" she called.

  Without warning, the woman turned toward them, her hair falling from her face and her cries turning to moans. She looked at them with crazed, black eyes. She was infected. Her mouth turned into a snarl and her teeth snapped viciously. It looked like she'd been there awhile.

  Sandy froze in terror as she read a message that had been spray painted across the woman's tattered shirt: "Hell is here."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Reginald walked faster as he reached the log cabin. Several windows on the cabin had been smashed out, leaving shards of glass stuck to the pane. He got close enough to see the front door hanging open.

  He rounded the corner, aiming his pistol and his rifle. No one greeted him or stopped him. Other than the creature he'd killed outside, he hadn't seen anything else wandering nearby. He crept toward the cabin entrance until he felt secure that no one was inside. Then he stepped through the threshold, avoiding piles of clothing and supplies that had been smashed and raided. Several bags of snacks were scattered on the ground. An empty bottle of water lay on the floor, as if to taunt him. Reginald swore at the reminder of how thirsty he was. He wouldn't drink from the bottle, even though he saw several drops inside. He wouldn't be foolish enough to infect himself. He scanned the rest of the room, finding a mattress without sheets and a few tipped over chairs. A wave of tiredness crept over him. Reginald blinked, fighting the urge to lie down.

  He needed rest.

  But he needed to get to the lumberyard first.

  He turned and faced the door again, noticing a few glimmers of color through the trees. He swung his rifle in their direction, his heart racing, until he realized the objects were merely clothing hung up to dry. The garments looked like they belonged to another cabin.

  He'd check the rest of the area first before returning to the road.

  Reginald took a step forward, stumbling as a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He paused. His face and shirt were damp from sweat. His limbs were spongy. Regardless of what his plans were, he needed to rest for a moment.

  Reginald walked over to the cabin door, but instead of going through it, he shut it. Thankfully, the lock was intact. He staggered backward and lay on the bed, aiming his gun at the door and convincing himself that if anyone came at him, he'd hear them.

  He'd hear them, and then he'd…

  Reginald passed out.

  Chapter Thirty

  A meek voice from the backseat made Sandy turn her eyes to the rearview. Anabel was whispering something to her mother. A minute later Marcia spoke up.

  "Anabel has to use the bathroom," Marcia said. Her tone was almost apologetic.

  "I'm sorry," Anabel added quietly.

  "Don't worry about it." Sandy smiled through her nervousness. She looked at Simon, who was scanning the road. "Do you think it's safe? Or should we go farther?"

  Since passing the infected woman on the tree, they'd seen no further signs of danger, or any survivors. But that didn't dispel her unease.

  Simon surveyed the trees. "I see a turnoff up ahead. Let's try it."

  Sandy was wary as she pulled into the beaten, gravel-covered roadway, but she didn't see any signs of life. Trees flecked the road on either side. She took the turn slowly, curving through some trees to get out of view of the road, driving only far enough to conceal them and turn the minivan around.

  "I'll step out first and make sure the area is clear," Simon said, carrying his rifle.

  "Maybe we should all go," Hector suggested. "I'm not sure when we'll get another chance."

  "Not a bad idea. Give me a minute."

  Simon stepped out and looked around. After a few seconds, he motioned for the occupants to join him. Marcia, Hector, and Anabel hurried behind a nearby tree. Sandy kept her eyes on their surroundings, as if the forest might unleash a cavalcade of creatures. But it was empty. After using the bathroom, Sandy returned and stood next to Simon while Hector and Marcia finished up with Anabel.

  "We've probably only driven a few miles," Simon said, glancing at the atlas page.

  "I'm afraid to drive too fast," Sandy remarked.

  "Of course. Some of the turns are sharp."

  "What do the notes say?"

  "They give landmarks, but they're a little vague."

  "Hopefully we'll be able to follow them when we get there."

  Sandy flexed her hands and looked at the deserted woods. The quiet was refreshing after spending days in the city, with only the hungry groans of the creatures to keep her company.

  "This beats St. Matthews," she said as the cool wind rustled her hair.

  "In a lot of ways, yes," Simon agreed. "But I'm still worried about what might be out there."

  Sandy looked over at the rusted minivan behind them. Her fear had been that the vehicle would die, leaving them stranded. Thankfully it had been reliable. The light wind ceased, allowing the rustling trees to settle.

  When they did, Sandy noticed another noise. Footsteps bled through the trees.

  "Do you hear that?" she hissed.

  "What?" Simon asked.

  Sandy cocked her head. "Someone's coming."

  She looked behind them, trying to grab Hector, Marcia, and Anabel's attention. They weren't looking.

  "Over there," Simon whispered, pulling her attention to a patch of trees diagonal to them. His face grew fearful with alarm. "I hear it now."

  Sandy aimed her gun at the empty patch of woods, watching a few leaves drift to the ground. The footsteps were getting closer. Sandy's eyes flicked to the minivan. They were close enough that they could get back inside easily, if they needed to, but they'd have to wait for Hector and his family. She turned and caught Hector's eyes as he emerged from behind the tree. She gestured with her pistol at the opposite side of the woods. Hector, Marcia, and Anabel scurried over toward Simon and Sandy.

  They were halfway to the minivan when a tattered, bedraggled woman emerged from the forest. Her face was pale with fear as she yelled, "Help!"

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The woman's gray hair swayed over her shoulders as she yelled for assistance. Her face was fearful and confused.

  "Stay back!" Simon warned her, aiming his rifle. "Hector, get your family in the car!"

  Hector and his family got into the minivan. Sandy kept her gun trained. The appearance of the woman—in the middle of the woods, far from others—was enough to shake any comfort she had. The woman halted twenty yards away from them. Judging by her weathered skin and wrinkles, she was in her late sixties. Her dress was ripped and stained. She held up her hands in a placating gesture.

  "Please don't shoot!" she pleaded. "My husband needs help!"

  Sandy looked past the woman, as if her appearance might be distracting them f
rom some other danger.

  "Please, I know how hard it is to trust someone—believe me, I do. What else can I say to convince you I'm not lying?"

  "Are you alone?" Simon asked, making it clear he didn't believe her.

  "Yes! I left my husband behind. He's too injured to travel."

  "Where is he?" Simon asked.

  "He's in an RV down the woods," she said, gesturing behind her. "I've been hiding here, waiting for someone to come. I'm not sure what to do!"

  Simon eyed her with doubt. "And you think we can help you?"

  "Some people took our car and everything we had. Harold tried to stand up to them, but they stabbed him before they left." The woman watched Sandy and the others fearfully, as if they might do the same to her. "I have nothing left to lose. That's the only reason I came out. If you leave me, he'll die. And I won't last much longer without food and water."

  Sandy and Simon watched the woman.

  "When did this happen?"

  "Yesterday. I barely got Harold back to the RV. He's bleeding pretty badly."

  "Are you armed?" Simon asked.

  "No," the woman smoothed out her dress to prove it. "They took everything, like I said."

  Simon instructed her to turn around, but she seemed weaponless. After another glance around the woods, he lowered his gun. Sandy followed his lead. The woman approached cautiously, as if they might change their minds and shoot.

  "Please don't leave me," she pleaded.

  "Have you seen any of the creatures around?" Simon asked.

  The woman shook her head. "Not in a while. But if you go far enough, you'll find them. They're everywhere."

  "Is there anyone else up here?"

  "Most of the people in the campsites have been infected or killed. We've been up here for a day with no food and water. That's when we found the RV. If we don't get help, we'll die either way."

  Sandy blew a breath. The woman's report confirmed everything she'd feared. "Does the RV drive?"

  "No. It's broken."

  "What's your name?" she asked the woman.

  "Donna."

  Sandy introduced herself and the others. "How far did you say the RV is from here, Donna?"

  Donna pulled herself together, turned, and pointed. "It's right through those trees, a few minutes away. It'd be quicker if we drove. But I don't blame you if you don't want me in your car. I can walk next to you, if you'd like."

  Sandy looked at the minivan. She recalled the medical supplies they'd found at the elementary school. They might be able to help the injured man. They couldn't leave these people to die.

  "We should take her," Hector piped up from inside the vehicle. "See if we can help her husband."

  Sandy nodded and looked at Simon. After a brief, silent consensus, they waved the woman into the car.

  Between the supplies and the new passenger, the minivan was crowded. Sandy and Simon reentered the front seats while Hector, Marcia, Anabel, and Donna squeezed in the back. Donna directed Sandy down the road.

  "Keep going," she said. "You can't miss it. It's the only RV here. I haven't seen any other buildings or any other vehicles, but I didn't want to leave Harold too long."

  "You said the RV doesn't run?" Sandy asked.

  "No," Donna said. "We tried starting it, but it wouldn't even turn over. It looks like it was abandoned a while ago. If it drove, I'd take it for help. Even though I doubt I'd find any."

  Sandy watched their surroundings as thick trees bordered either side of the road. A few picnic tables were chained to the trees, garbage bins knocked over next to them. Sandy saw a stiff, decaying body a few feet in the woods.

  "Everyone else must've left when things started getting bad," Donna explained. "I haven't seen the men who robbed us. They must be long gone."

  "I understand."

  While they were driving, Donna continued her story. "Harold and I were taking a road trip before all this started. We were going from Albuquerque to St. Matthews. Harold had just retired. This was supposed to be our romantic getaway." Donna shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. "And then this happened. We've been fighting off those things for days, looking for help everywhere. When we finally saw a car, we pulled in. And then the people we met robbed us."

  "You said Harold was stabbed?" Sandy asked.

  "Yes. Yesterday. He's been getting worse and worse. I've tried to do what I can for him, but he's not responding." Donna broke into a gasping sob and covered her face with her hands as the gravity of her situation hit her.

  They drove for a few minutes, crunching over gravel, looking for the RV. Simon kept his rifle in his hands as he surveyed the woods. They passed by several more spray-painted, unreadable signs until they reached a straightaway.

  "Over there!" Donna spoke up, gesturing toward a dirt trail.

  True to her word, a white RV sat at the end.

  Sandy turned off the gravel road and onto the dirt. The people in the backseat tensed and sat forward. The minivan fought with the bumps in the road as they tried to get a better look at the vehicle. The RV was dingy, surrounded by picnic tables and a fire pit that had long since burned out. It was parked perpendicular to the dirt road. The front of it looked like a truck—the driver's and passenger's seats were inside. It was about thirty-five feet long. Movement from the side of it drew their attention. A person had appeared from around the back.

  Simon aimed his rifle at Donna. "Who the hell's that?" he asked, staring back at her, as if she might've lured them into a trap.

  "I don't know!" Donna said frantically. "Harold and I are alone, I swear!"

  They watched the person walk down the side of the RV, rapping on the exterior, reaching for the windows. It didn't take them long to determine it was a creature. The creature had short, cropped hair, and it moaned as it pawed at the panes. Sandy's heart sank as another creature with long hair joined it. The things moved down the side of the RV, scraping and banging as if they knew someone was inside.

  Sandy stopped a hundred yards away and appraised the scene.

  "Harold's in there!" Donna whispered urgently. "He won't be able to defend himself, if they get in!"

  Simon looked from the creatures to the people in the minivan. "If what you said is true, there are certainly more creatures in the area. Shooting them will draw others."

  "Or people like the ones who robbed you," Sandy agreed.

  "Let's take care of them quietly," Simon said. "Is the door to the RV locked?"

  "Yes," Donna said.

  "That'll buy us some time."

  "I have the key." Donna pulled a key from her shoe.

  Simon looked into the backseat. "Why don't the rest of you stay here while Sandy and I get out."

  "No. I'm going," Hector said.

  "Stay here with your family," Simon told him. "Keep them safe."

  Hector shook his head. "Not this time. I want to do this."

  "Hector—" Marcia started.

  "I've sat out long enough, Marcia. I want to help. I want to pull my weight."

  His tone overrode argument. The others traded apprehensive looks with Hector as he shuffled seats, getting out. Sandy left the engine running and joined Hector outside. They shut their doors with care, creeping through a few tall pines and getting farther away from the vehicle, approaching the creatures. Sandy clutched her knife and looked at Hector.

  "There are only two of them," she said in a whisper. "We should be able to take care of them without much noise."

  Hector nodded. "Okay."

  They ducked behind a thick tree within twenty yards of the RV. The creatures didn't seem to notice their arrival—the shorter-haired one angrily pounded one of the windows, while the long-haired thing smacked the wall in frustration. Hector watched Sandy with wide eyes as they prepared a next move. Sandy clenched the knife in her hand. The prospect of voluntarily facing one of the things was never a welcome thought, but they'd do what they had to.

  "I'll take the one on the left," she whispered.

 
"I'll take the one on the right."

  After a quick signal, Sandy stepped out from the RV and charged, Hector behind her. Her shoes flew over a bed of pine needles and brush as she ran quickly and quietly. The creature she was aiming for didn't notice her until the last second, when it turned, exposing a set of dingy, stained teeth. She sunk the knife into its forehead before it could attack. She pulled the blade loose. The second creature was already coming at her, but Hector intercepted, cracking its skull with the barrel of his rifle. The thing fell against the RV, snarling and flailing. He hit it again with a blow to the head, watching it collapse. The creature sank into the pine needles, its eyes dull.

  Sandy and Hector backed away from the downed creatures, their breath surging.

  Sandy wiped her blade in the grass as she searched the forest for others. They stepped back from the RV as another moan piped up.

  "Behind you!" she called to Hector. One of the creatures barreled out from the front of the RV and toward him. Dodging its groping hands, Hector flung an arm out and grabbed its shirt, pulling it off-balance and flinging it to the ground. The creature's blonde hair hung in tattered strips to its face and it snarled. Hector stomped its head with his boot, over and over, grinding its face into the ground until it stopped moving. When he was finished, he bent down, gasping for breath.

  "That'll wake you up," he said as he made a face.

  They remained in place for several seconds, listening to the keen of the wind through the trees. The attack seemed over. Sandy turned her attention to the curtained windows of the RV, expecting to find a grateful survivor peering at them through the panes, but the RV was lifeless. They checked all sides for more creatures, but found nothing else.

  "Let's get back to the others," Hector said quietly. "Then we'll go inside."

  Chapter Thirty-Two