Contamination (Book 4): Escape

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  While he was talking, Dan took the opportunity to size up his captors. Aside from Reginald, it was the first time he’d gotten a look at the others, and he noted that the other two men were considerably larger than the first.

  The man to Reginald’s left was bald and heavy set, wearing a simple blue button-up shirt, jeans, and a pair of work boots. Dan pegged him as a tradesman of some sort, perhaps a construction worker. The man to Reginald’s right was tall and rugged, with toned arms, dark hair, and a sleeve of tattoos. His eyes were dark and brooding, and he pierced Dan with his stare.

  The girls had been left in the shack, and Dan had been taken alone to a far corner of the lumberyard, in a small building with a cement floor and a high ceiling. He hadn’t noticed the building before, but when he saw it, he had a sinking feeling that it might be his final resting place.

  On the way over, he’d glimpsed the warehouse and the main buildings, and he’d seen several faces peeking out at him from dust-covered windows. Although he was unable to discern any of their features, he thought he noticed several women, perhaps even a young child.

  He could only imagine what Reginald had told them. At the very least, they must have been instructed to stay indoors.

  Throughout the conversation, Dan had been struggling with his bonds, but so far he’d been unable to loosen them. He’d been propped up on a chair, and the men were between him and the single exit. When he finished speaking, he sucked in a breath, waiting for whatever was to happen next.

  The men exchanged glances, as if they were suddenly unsure. After a long pause, the bald man on the left opened his mouth to speak.

  “I believe him.”

  Reginald shifted his gaze to the other man. The man with the tattoos pulled at his chin and his eyes fell to the ground.

  “I do, too.”

  Reginald’s face grew dark. Without warning, he flew up from his chair, knocking it over.

  “This man is a fucking liar!” he yelled, pointing his finger in Dan’s face. “You believe all that shit he’s telling you? He’s part of it! He’s the one who did this!”

  The other men remained silent, eyes averted.

  “If you aren’t going to take care of him, I will!”

  Reginald pulled out a pistol and leveled it at Dan’s head.

  “Any last words, you piece of shit?”

  “Promise me that my daughter will be safe,” Dan said.

  Reginald’s face remained tense, angry. Instead of responding, he moved several inches closer to his target.

  Before he could pull the trigger, the tattooed man stood abruptly. Reginald looked back, startled.

  “This isn’t right, Reginald. He’s a goddamn cop, for fuck’s sake. If you’re going to do this, I don’t want any part in it.”

  “Me neither,” the bald man said, taking to his feet.

  Reginald’s face fell and he lowered the gun.

  “Where are you going?” he asked them.

  The men ignored him. Reginald took a step toward them, but they’d already exited the room, and the door slapped closed behind them. Dan heard their footsteps scuff the dirt as they walked across the lot. A few seconds later, the noises faded and Reginald turned back to face him.

  “I guess it’s just me and you, officer shit bag.”

  “I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” Dan said. “You know that I’m telling the truth, and your friends do, too. If you do this you’ll drive a wedge between the group, and that’s the last thing you need at a time like this.”

  Reginald glared at him with disgust.

  “Talk it over first. Make sure everyone is in agreement before you pull that trigger.”

  “I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I don’t answer to anyone but myself.”

  The man raised the pistol to Dan’s forehead again, gritting his teeth. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, and his hand shook. Dan closed his eyes and steeled himself on the chair, waiting for the bullet that would signify the end.

  Seconds passed. He heard the other man breathing; heard his own breath accelerate. He strained at the ropes, giving one last-ditch effort to break free, but his hands and feet wouldn’t move. At any second he was sure that a wave of pain would wash over him.

  Goodbye, Quinn.

  Only the gunshot never came.

  When Dan opened his eyes he saw that Reginald had tucked the gun in his pants. The man was shaking his head.

  “Don’t get comfortable, pig,” he said. “I’ll be right back as soon as I talk to the others. I doubt it’ll take long.”

  Without another word, he stalked off through the door and into the cool desert night, taking the lantern with him.

  Dan strained in the dark for what felt like hours, until his wrists and ankles were raw from the rope. The chair he was in had been lashed to a single beam in the room—no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to tip it.

  As he fought to break free, he thought of his daughter. Was she still in the same place, and was she safe?

  He’d been listening for signs of her from outside, but hadn’t heard anything that resembled Quinn. Every so often he heard the patter of shoes, but each time, no voices accompanied them. He imagined that it was the switching of guards at the shack, perhaps someone keeping watch over the yard.

  At some point soon they’d come for him. And next time he wouldn’t be so lucky.

  Though he’d been able to convince Reginald to keep him alive, at least for the moment, he had little faith that the man would release him. It was obvious the man had a personal vendetta against him.

  And what better time to exact revenge than when the world was ending?

  His only hope was that the rest of the group would object to his treatment. Perhaps that would buy him more time.

  He needed to get out of here, and he needed to help Quinn.

  Heart pounding, he pitched himself forward in the chair, but to no avail. A few minutes later he heard a noise from outside the building. Dan stopped writhing and stood still, listening.

  The noise was faint at first: it sounded like it was coming from somewhere across the yard. He heard the creak of a door, then the sound of footfalls crunching the dirt.

  It sounded like someone was coming his way.

  Dan tensed.

  He tugged against the ropes with all his might, pain creeping up his arms. The footsteps drew closer, and then, abruptly, they stopped.

  It sounded like the person was right outside the door.

  Although he couldn’t see anything, he could sense someone’s presence, and when he listened hard enough, he could hear the person breathing. Dan went stock-still. Whoever the person was must be aware that he was in here.

  Why hadn’t they announced themselves?

  He was tied up, after all. What harm could he possibly do them?

  The door cracked open and a thin patch of moonlight appeared on the floor. A second later a shadow slipped inside. The door clicked shut.

  Dan’s forehead dripped with sweat. He heard a footstep. Then another. The person was right in front of him. A whispered voice broke the silence.

  “Stay quiet.”

  All of a sudden a pale light flicked on, and he saw the frightened visage of Sandy in front of him. In her hands was a knife. She reached toward him, and for a split second, Dan feared she was going to stab him.

  Instead, she sawed at the ropes on his legs, fraying the fibers and breaking him free. When she was finished, she cut loose his hands.

  Dan stood, shaking out the stiffness that had set into his limbs. The circulation slowly returned to his legs, and he had to fight from falling. Sandy was staring at him.

  “Get out of here,” she hissed.

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “How’d you get in here? How’d you escape?”

  “The others set me free, but Reginald isn’t happy. Everyone’s arguing, and it’s not looking good for you.”

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  “I alre
ady broke her loose. You need to get out of here, Dan, and never look back.”

  Sandy reached over to hand him something. He saw that it was a set of keys. When he looked down at them, he instantly recognized the keychain. They were his—one of them belonged to the stolen station wagon.

  “Quinn’s already inside. Follow me and keep as low as possible. We don’t want to alert the guard.”

  “Didn’t they see you coming over here?”

  “I slipped out while they were arguing. Come on, there’s no time to explain.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  She hesitated. “No. I can’t. People need me here. I can’t leave them behind.”

  Before Dan knew it the girl was treading across the floor and opening the door. He followed behind her, his limbs still aching from his restraints. When he slipped out into the night, the cool air soothed his skin, and he drew a silent breath as he hunkered down behind her.

  Sandy led him over to the fence, away from the main building, and behind the warehouse. Dan did his best to pad his footsteps, knowing that one wrong move could alert the others. Sandy was taking a huge risk by helping him—surely the others would figure out what she’d done, and she’d have to explain herself.

  In any case, he was grateful.

  He kept low to the ground as he ran. Soon they’d made it behind the building. By the light of the moon, he could see several shapes behind the lot, and recognized one of them as the station wagon.

  When he got close, he saw a shadow in the backseat. Quinn.

  His heart flooded with relief, and he cracked the driver’s door and slipped inside. His daughter lunged for his shoulders, and he clung to her for a second before locating the key.

  “Daddy,” she whispered, crying.

  “It’s ok,” he responded. “Everything will be all right.”

  Sandy remained outside the vehicle. She crouched beside the driver’s side door, whispering instructions.

  “They’ll be looking for me soon. I have to leave. I think you should be able to drive through the gate. From what I’ve seen, it’s not the sturdiest.”

  “Why don’t you come with us?”

  “I need to make sure the others are safe. Everyone needs to know about Reginald before it’s too late.”

  “Won’t you be in danger?”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s a risk I have to take.”

  Dan reached out and took the girl’s hand.

  “Thank you, Sandy.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You saved my life. Just give me two minutes so I can get back to the others.”

  Before Dan could reply, the girl had clicked the door closed. He watched as she slipped away from them and disappeared around the warehouse. Once she’d gone, he inserted the key into the ignition and drew a breath.

  Stay cool.

  Dan turned the key. The engine sprang to life around them, and he locked the doors.

  “Hold on, Quinn,” he said.

  He threw the vehicle into drive and hit the accelerator, launching the car across the dirt lot. Before he knew it, he was careening out from behind the building and into the heart of the property. He kept the lights off and aimed straight for the gate.

  To his right, he saw several doors fly open from the main building, a stream of figures spill out from inside.

  “Daddy! Are we going to make it?”

  “I sure hope so! Hold on and buckle your seatbelt!”

  He headed for the section in between the two entrance gates, praying that the force of the impact would split them apart, and then braced himself in his seat. The car collided with the metal and continued through it, separating the fence with a clatter. The station wagon plowed out into the night, roaring away from the lumberyard and the people running behind them.

  When they’d cleared the vicinity, Dan turned to look behind him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No.”

  He exhaled, watching the rearview and the road behind them. Although he was certain that Reginald would follow, he was confident that they’d gotten a good head start. In no time they’d reached an adjacent road, and Dan swerved down it, taking a shortcut to avoid the main thoroughfares.

  Up above him, the sky glowed a magnificent blue and the stars shined a fluorescent light from the heavens. One star in particular shone brighter than the others, and he took a second to admire it, once again thankful to be alive.

  “Where are we going, Daddy?”

  “I think it’s time to find Aunt Meredith.”

  Although he couldn’t see her face, he could hear Quinn breathing a sigh of relief in the backseat.

  PART THREE - REBUILD

  19

  Meredith had never liked driving in the dark. The roads always seemed narrower than in the daytime, and the painted white and yellow lines reminded her of a maze. As she left the town of Settler’s Creek behind, she did her best to focus on the road, but found her gaze wandering to the fields around her.

  At any minute, she expected a legion of former townspeople to crop up in front of her, blocking the road and clambering for the vehicle.

  So far the path had been clear.

  She peered over at John, who was throwing cautious looks out the window. The nearest town was Coventry, and though they were halfway there, she had a sinking feeling that things wouldn’t be much different.

  In any case, she had another destination in mind: the Texas border.

  Regardless of how the infection had travelled, there were bound to be military personnel there, and hopefully, medical assistance. She tried to dispel the rumors she’d heard about the border—about people being turned away, or worse—and convince herself that they’d find help.

  She squinted at the road ahead, her vision blurring. Meredith was exhausted. Ever since she woke up in the morning, the day had been a jumble of horrific events, and she still hadn’t had a chance to digest them all.

  She didn’t know if she ever would.

  The road took a slight curve and a sign sprang into view. John jolted at the sight of it; Meredith’s pulse quickened. They’d reached the Coventry limits. Although they were in no immediate danger, they were both on edge.

  Before long they passed the first houses on the edge of town. From the looks of it, the lights were still on: Coventry had power. Meredith slowed the truck and glanced in the windows, watching spastic shadows roam back and forth from within.

  Things weren’t looking good.

  “Keep going,” John said, his voice somber.

  She adjusted her foot from the brake to the gas, picking up speed again. The deeper into town they got, the more prevalent the houses and buildings became. Instead of providing relief, the sight of civilization brought more anxiety; multitudes of creatures wandered outside, hungry and on the prowl.

  A few of them flung their bodies at the vehicle as Meredith drove by, and she did her best to avoid any knee-jerk reactions at the wheel. The last thing she needed was to lose control. If she crashed the pickup the things would be on them in seconds.

  Although she was able to avoid most of them, several connected with the vehicle, and each time she jumped. She’d given John her rifle—his was out of bullets—and he held it next to the closed window.

  By the time they’d reached the center of town, the streets had erupted in chaos. There were several abandoned vehicles in the road—the owners either gone or infected—and one of the buildings was aflame. Creatures spilled from the mouth of the burning structure, clawing at the yellow flames that surrounded them.

  There were no survivors that Meredith could see.

  She twisted the wheel, avoiding a pair of cars that had been left in the road.

  “We need to get out of here,” John said. “The last thing we need is to be trapped.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She navigated between the wreckage, doing her best to avoid a collision, and turned do
wn one of the lesser-known streets. Having grown up in the area, she knew the town almost as well as her own, and it was time to get out of it.

  In a few minutes she’d cleared the town center and was heading westward. The border was just a few miles away.

  Junked vehicles lined the roadway; creatures ambled in nearby fields.

  “Do you think anyone will be there?” Meredith asked.

  “The last I heard the roads were sealed off and they weren’t letting anyone through. That was almost a day ago, though. This whole thing came on so quick. Who knows what it will be like now.”

  “Everything just happened so fast…first Sheila, then Ben and Marcy, the doctor…”

  Meredith’s eyes welled up. John lowered the rifle and reached over to comfort her.

  “There’s nothing else you could have done, Meredith.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I just wish this whole thing was over and things would go back to normal.”

  “It can’t go on like this forever,” he said. “Something has to give.”

  Meredith could see the border approaching from a distance—a plethora of colored and flashing lights on the horizon. Rather than driving faster, she reduced her pace, suddenly aware that reaching it could mean danger or death as much as help or assistance.

  There was no way to know.

  To her relief, John seemed more alert than he had all night. He sat straight in his chair, Meredith’s rifle propped on his leg. His eyes bore into the night like two dark coals, scanning the distance from the vehicle’s interior.

  No matter what the future brought, one thing was clear: Meredith would need all the help she could get.

  The flashing yellows, blues, and reds grew from dots to bulbs, and before she knew it she was upon them, the pickup crunching to a halt on the asphalt. She kept a distance of fifty feet, the headlight’s splashing onto the scene before them.

  The border between Texas and Oklahoma on I-40 consisted of a three-lane highway on each side, with a dirt-encrusted median in the center. Above it was a perpendicular bridge that rose about fifty feet in the air. Normally traffic flowed through the area without impediment, crossing between states without issue or restriction.