Contamination (Book 4): Escape

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  At least they’d have the stability of the family vehicle.

  “Wait here, honey,” he said, once his daughter had gotten inside.

  He closed the door and locked the car. He’d since covered up the bodies on the ground, hoping to at least spare her of having to look at them repeatedly, but he still needed to move the cargo van away from the front entrance.

  Morning was fast approaching, and daylight was working its way through the cracks and crevices of the nearby mountains. Dan walked across the dusted grounds, surveying the carcasses of automobiles, reliving the memories they’d made there.

  Since the other survivors had departed, the salvage yard had felt empty, and he’d found himself thinking of them daily. Had Noah made it home to Portland to find his family? Had Sam and Delta found what they were looking for in Salt Lake City?

  A part of him was afraid that one of them might return, in trouble and in need of assistance, and find the yard abandoned. At the same time, Dan had a duty to protect his daughter, and he knew it was no longer safe here.

  Just in case, he’d left a note in the guard shack.

  The lights of the cargo van were still on, playing over the empty lot. He used the glow to search the rest of the yard. Aside from the three agents and the several creatures they’d killed, there was nothing more of concern.

  After one last precautionary sweep of the van, he leapt into the driver’s seat. The key was still inside. He fired up the engine and drove the vehicle through the gate, parking it next to a row of RV’s.

  He was about to shut off the van when a radio cackled on the dash.

  Dan froze.

  “Sanchez, you there?”

  He stared at the receiver, but kept his hands on the steering wheel. Did the other agents know what had happened? Were they waiting for a report?

  The voice rang out again.

  “We need all agents back at the compound. There’s been a breach.”

  Dan let go of the steering wheel, his mind brimming with questions. Who’d breached the compound? Was it the government?

  He reached across the console, ready to engage the person, and then thought better of it. Any contact with the agents could jeopardize his and his daughter’s safety. There could be others nearby, and if they sensed trouble, they might follow their companions to the salvage yard.

  He thought of Sam and Delta, and for a fleeting second, he pictured that maybe they had been the breach, that somehow they’d found their way inside.

  But that would be impossible, wouldn’t it?

  Dan waited another minute, but the man on the other end did not return. In any case, it was time to get moving. Sooner or later, the agents would figure out that these men had been killed, and they’d send others looking for them.

  Hopefully by that time Dan and Quinn would be long gone.

  He killed the engine and departed the vehicle. He could see Quinn watching him from the passenger’s seat of the station wagon, and he gave her a smile and a wave.

  Although they were leaving, he had no clue as to their destination. He just hoped that by abandoning the salvage yard, they weren’t trading one threat for another. In the salvage yard, at least they had the gates to protect them. On the roads, they’d be reduced to the doors and windows of the vehicle.

  Dan circled to the back of the station wagon, peering in for one last check at the contents. He’d stored the remainder of their packaged food there, along with some additional reserves he’d found in the agent’s van. He’d also packed several weapons: two pistols, the empty shotgun, and several bats and crowbars, along with a few containers of gasoline.

  Given what they were up against, it was hardly enough to feel safe, but it was the best he could do.

  With the cargo secure, he motioned for Quinn to unlock the doors and then got inside to join her. He noticed she was holding a teddy bear in her hands, and he wrinkled his brow.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I found it in the guard’s shack the other day,” she said.

  The bear, which at one time might have been white, had taken on a brown tinge, the fabric of its blue pants faded with age.

  “What’s his name?” Dan asked.

  His daughter smiled. “Samson.”

  “Is Samson ready to go?”

  “Yup.”

  “All right, you two; hold on tight.”

  Dan forced a smile, then switched the car into drive and rolled forward. A minute later he was navigating through the open gates.

  Night had officially passed the torch to day, and the heat came down in waves over the desert. For safety reasons, Dan had instructed his daughter to keep the windows up, choosing instead to run the air conditioner at its lowest setting.

  It was barely enough to keep them cool, and not enough to stop them from sweating. He padded his forehead with his sleeve, watching as his daughter did the same.

  “Can I roll my window down a crack, Daddy?” his daughter implored.

  He sighed, taking in the empty roads around them.

  “OK, but be ready to roll it up if we see something.”

  She nodded and fiddled with the window controls, lowering the window about halfway. Dan shut off the air conditioning. Given their limited resources, he’d need to conserve as much fuel as possible.

  After a few more minutes of silent play with the teddy bear, his daughter turned on the radio. She scrolled the dial from left to right, finding nothing but static.

  “Do you think anybody’s still out there?” she asked.

  “I’m sure there are people out there just like us.”

  “Will we see any of them?”

  “I bet we will, honey. We’ll just have to be real careful about who we talk to and who we trust.”

  His daughter stared out the window at the wide expanse of desert. At the moment the road was long and straight; there were no signs of civilization in sight. However, Dan knew that was soon to change. In a matter of minutes he’d need to choose a direction.

  He just had no idea what that direction might be.

  He was still contemplating that question when Quinn piped up next to him.

  “Do you think Aunt Meredith’s OK?”

  Dan sighed. It’d been years since they’d spoke to Julie’s sister. Meredith lived in Settler’s Creek, Oklahoma. Due to the distance between St. Matthews and Settler’s Creek, they’d lost contact.

  “I bet she’s fine,” he said.

  “Can we go visit her?”

  Dan paused. Julie’s sister had never been fond of Dan, claiming that he’d forced Julie to move away from her hometown. Three years ago, the two sisters had gotten into a heated argument, and neither had spoken since.

  Dan had always thought that Julie should patch things up, but the more time that passed, the less likely that had seemed.

  He wondered what Meredith was doing now, and if she’d heard of what had happened. Was the same thing happening in Oklahoma that was happening here? Did she have any idea that her sister was dead?

  He swallowed back the lump in his throat, realizing that he owed Quinn an answer.

  “I’m not sure if that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Settler’s Creek is hours away. That’d be a long, dangerous drive.”

  “What if things are safe there?”

  Dan paused, reconsidering.

  Quinn had a point. Regardless of the distance, his daughter’s safety was paramount. If Meredith had a safe place to keep them, it might be worth the trip.

  Dan pictured the farm that Julie and Meredith had grown up on. For years their parents had procured their own food, relying on income from their crops to support themselves.

  When Julie’s parents had died, Meredith had taken over the farm, intent on keeping up the family tradition. It was a noble cause, but one she’d ended up taking on alone.

  Early on, Julie had voiced her desire to sell it, but Meredith had disagreed, opting to live on it instead. The farm had
always been a source of contention between them, and Julie’s marriage to Dan had only made things worse.

  In hindsight, the arguments they’d had seemed small, insignificant.

  Dan regretted they had ever happened.

  “That might actually be a good idea, Quinn,” he said finally.

  His daughter beamed.

  “There’s a chance that the virus hasn’t hit there yet, and even if it has, the crops on the farm should be untouched. Come to think of it, finding Aunt Meredith may be our best bet.”

  “Do you think she still has Ernie?”

  Ernie was Meredith’s miniature poodle, a spunky black dog that loved to jump on unsuspecting visitors. Meredith had gotten the dog around the time that Quinn was born.

  “I bet Ernie’s still there,” Dan said. “But he might be a little older than you remember.”

  His daughter smiled at the news, suddenly filled with a burst of energy. She held up the teddy bear on her lap with two hands.

  “Did you hear that, Samson? We’re going to see Aunt Meredith and Ernie!”

  Dan smiled back, glad that they’d made a decision. In spite of that, he kept his relief contained. Making the decision was easy.

  Getting there would be the hard part.

  3

  Meredith Tilly had been running the television set for a week straight. Most of the stations she’d once had had gone down, and of the reports she received, most were speculation. Although few details were known, one thing was certain.

  No one had been inside the contamination zone for long and survived.

  She walked from her couch to the window, peering out over the field of crops outside. Aside from a few circling crows, there wasn’t a creature or a human in sight. Thank God she lived in a rural area.

  It was days like these that made her glad she’d kept her parent’s farm.

  At the same time, she felt a deep sense of loneliness and isolation. She hadn’t had a visitor in days, and even before that, her chats with the neighbors had been short and anxious.

  Nobody knew what was happening, or what was coming next.

  Reports of the contamination had started in Arizona and New Mexico, but in the days following, there had been rumors that it had spread into Oklahoma. Meredith had yet to see any evidence of it herself, but then again, she wasn’t exactly living in the city.

  Her daily routine consisted of interacting with more animals than people, and that wasn’t saying much.

  Despite the fact that she’d been safe thus far, she was wracked with worry. Ever since the initial reports had come in, she’d been thinking of her sister.

  She’d been calling her every day.

  All attempts at communication to the affected areas had been useless. The phones in the contamination zone were down, and according to the news, even people at the edges of the state had long since lost contact.

  Meredith’s biggest fear, even greater than her own safety, was that she would never speak to Julie or her family again.

  Three years ago she’d gotten into an argument with Julie over the farm, and they hadn’t spoken since. Although Meredith regretted the fight, she’d been stubborn, refusing to make the first move to patch things up.

  Now, she’d do anything to make things better. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

  A few days prior she’d taken her car into town, ready to drive to Arizona herself if necessary. But according to the townsfolk she’d run into, the government had blocked the roads and highways; any attempts to get through had been prohibited.

  She’d even heard rumors of people being shot.

  Although she couldn’t see how that could be true, she’d resolved to wait a few more days, hoping to receive word from her sister. Surely the outbreak would come to an end.

  Something had to give. Things couldn’t stay like this forever.

  Could they?

  She sighed at the window. Regardless of everything she’d heard, she was hopeful that her sibling would contact her soon. She wiped under her eyes, fighting back tears, and let her hand fall to her side.

  Almost immediately, something wet hit her fingertips.

  She smiled and looked down at the little dog at her feet. “Hi, Ernie!”

  The animal was licking her hand, and when she said his name, the dog dove at her mid-section. Meredith reached down and scooped him up, caressing the small patch of fur on his head. The dog snorted in appreciation.

  “You’re a good boy,” she told him.

  Outside, the sun had propped itself high in the sky, shining its rays of luminescence onto the crops below. In a few minutes she’d go out and tend them. Tragedy or not, she needed to keep producing, especially if she wanted to eat.

  It was July, and the farm was teeming with vegetables: cucumbers, corn, tomatoes, and eggplant. On a normal day she’d harvest the food and bring it into town to sell at the family food stand. Now she’d been keeping close to home, surviving off the food she’d grown.

  She no longer trusted anything else.

  Meredith set the dog on the floor, ignoring his repeated requests for attention, and resolved to go upstairs and get changed.

  Before she had a chance, she heard a shrill, high-pitched noise from the kitchen, and her heart jumped in her chest.

  Her phone was ringing.

  Who could that be?

  Once a day she’d been trading calls with her neighbors, Sheila Guthright, an elderly woman who owned a property to the north, and Ben and Marcy Sanders, a middle-aged couple that owned the property next door. Even though they were all neighbors, their houses were spread far apart: each owned about ten acres of land.

  But she’d already spoken to all of them today.

  Maybe it’s news about Julie.

  By the time Meredith got to the kitchen, she was out of breath. Ernie circled her heels. She looked down at him, and he barked, as if he sensed her nervousness.

  “Quiet, boy,” she said to the dog. She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “M-Meredith?”

  The voice on the other end was cracked and distorted, and she pressed the phone tight to her head, doing her best to hear it.

  “Sheila? That you?”

  “Yes. Something’s wrong with Ben.”

  “What do you mean? Is he there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Marcy with him?”

  “No, dear, she’s not. And he’s acting strange. I told him I’m not going to open the door.”

  “Does he look sick?”

  “He doesn’t look well.”

  “Oh God. Listen, Sheila—“

  “He keeps banging, and he won’t stop.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let him in! He might be infected, Sheila!”

  Before Meredith could protest further, the phone disconnected. She tapped the lever and frantically dialed back the woman’s number, but there was no answer.

  She called back a second time, a third. The phone rang and rang.

  In a panic now, Meredith hung up and raced for the door.

  It was possible that Sheila had been overreacting; that Ben had simply come to visit her. After all, the woman was almost ninety-years-old, and she’d suffered a few bouts of confusion in the past few months. But even still, Meredith couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the woman was in trouble.

  She just hoped to God she was wrong.

  Meredith flew from the house and into her pickup truck, the keys jangling in her hand. She threw them in the ignition and fired up the vehicle.

  The quickest way to Sheila Guthright’s house was to take the road. Even though the two were technically neighbors, their properties were enormous—it would take Meredith almost ten minutes by foot.

  The way it sounded, ten minutes might be too late.

  She backed down the fifty-foot driveway to the road, the truck tires crunching gravel, and swerved out onto the pavement. She’d just started driving when she had a sudden thought.

  She’d left her .22 caliber rifl
e in the house.

  She glanced back at the property, contemplating going back for the weapon, but dismissed the idea. She’d already lost enough time as it was, and Sheila needed her help.

  From the little footage that the news had been able to gather—footage that had been looped over and over—she knew that things were looking grim. Still, she couldn’t imagine it happening here: not in Settler’s Creek, and certainly not to people she knew.

  Her best bet now was to hightail it to Sheila’s house. In the event something was happening, she’d figure it out when she got there. Chances are that Ben had run into some medical emergency; maybe his wife was sick and needed help.

  Sheila must’ve gotten it all wrong.

  Meredith continued to convince herself of these things as she drove the rural road to the woman’s house. In just a few minutes, she’d driven by the wooden fence that marked the edge of her property. In a few more she’d hit the driveway leading to Sheila’s house.

  She turned in faster than she should and gunned the accelerator. Sheila’s driveway was as long as Meredith’s, about fifty feet or so, and she could already make out Sheila’s Buick Regal parked at the top.

  To her surprise, there was no sign of Ben’s pickup truck.

  Ben and Marcy lived on the other side of the property, to the south, and were also a considerable distance away. Unless Ben was looking for exercise, he normally would’ve driven, especially if there was an emergency.

  Meredith swallowed the lump in her throat. She climbed the remainder of the driveway in her pickup, and when she’d reached the top, she killed the engine and stared at the house.

  Sheila lived in a modest white Victorian, with a railed front porch and several front steps leading up to it. The house contained two floors, an upstairs and a downstairs. Meredith was consistently surprised that the ninety-year-old woman was able to navigate her way between both.

  Almost all of the shades of the house were open. That made sense, because Sheila was an early riser.

  What didn’t make sense was that the front door was open as well.

  Meredith leapt from the truck and walked the yard, then peered inside from the foot of the porch stairs. Inside, she could see the staircase leading to the second floor and segments of the living room and kitchen.