Contamination (Book 4): Escape

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  “Stay back, Meredith. He’s infected.”

  Although she heard John’s words, she was unable to heed them. She’d already seen too many of the townsfolk die—she couldn’t give up on Mark like all the others. Clearly he needed help. If she could just get him to a doctor, a hospital…

  “Meredith!”

  John tugged on her shoulder, pulling her away from the seemingly infected man. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Since speaking last, Mark had closed his eyes, and his head had slid down the steering wheel, sinking into his chest.

  “I know how hard this is, but you have to step back.”

  John reached out and took her in his embrace. She rocked silently with him for several seconds, finding comfort in his arms, and tried to pretend that she was anywhere but here. When she closed her eyes, the world was normal, and everyone she knew was safe.

  Sheila, Ben and Marcy, Mark, Julie…

  Her illusion shattered with a scream. When she opened her eyes, Mark had shifted in his seat and was staring at them again. This time he was awake and alert, and his eyes blazed with violence.

  “Watch out!”

  John threw Meredith behind him just as the man leapt from the Camaro. In less than a minute, Mark had been overtaken by infection, and he tackled John to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Meredith screamed, but with little effect.

  The friendly shop owner she’d known before was gone. In his place was a creature bent on their demise.

  23

  Dan’s pulse climbed as his feet hit the pavement. The men in fatigues were only two car-lengths away. The SUV had stopped in the desert, and the driver watched his comrades intently, blowing a whiff of smoke in the air from a cigarette in his hand. The man in the passenger’s seat stared in the other direction.

  Dan was completely in the open, but he hadn’t been seen.

  Once the men noticed him they’d open fire. Of that he was certain. In order to protect his daughter and their two companions, he needed to lead the attackers away from the minivan.

  Adjacent to the vehicle was another car, and he scurried across the pavement toward it. While he was running, he heard the two men on foot smash the remaining windows of the Jeep. His heart buckled.

  Focus, Dan, focus.

  If he were to have any chance at overtaking the men, he’d have to keep his calm and rely on his police training. Several lives depended on it. He made it to the back of the car, crouched next to the trunk, holding his gun ready.

  After waiting several seconds he poked his head over the vehicle. The two men on foot had opened the doors of the Jeep and were rifling through the interior.

  He needed to get farther away.

  Behind him were several other vehicles. He scampered to the next one right as one of the men began to yell.

  “Over there! I saw someone!”

  “Now we’re talking!” one of the men screamed. “And I was just getting bored.”

  Dan heard the patter of approaching feet, and he ducked behind the trunk, hunkering down as low as his body would allow.

  “There he is!”

  “I see him!”

  A volley of bullets sprayed into the car behind him—a red station wagon—and Dan covered his head as the windshield shattered. When the noise stopped, he stood and fired a round at the two oncoming men. The bullet ricocheted off a nearby vehicle.

  “He’s armed!” one of the men screamed.

  The two men ducked out of sight, using the cover of a blue hatchback. The SUV was at a dead stop, and the men inside were poking their guns out the window.

  “There’s only one of them!” the driver called.

  That’s right, Dan thought. Come on.

  He crept on all fours to the back of the red station wagon, then darted to the next vehicle, making his way farther from the mini-van. Shouts and footfalls echoed from behind him; the men were in hot pursuit.

  If he were lucky, maybe they’d run out of ammunition. Then he’d have a better chance at taking them down. As if in response, a burst of gunfire followed in his wake. He kept low to the ground, his breath heaving.

  He had five shots of his own. Not nearly enough. He’d have to shoot for accuracy, and given that his targets were moving, that could prove difficult.

  At the same time, Dan had been the best shot on the force. Back when Sheriff Turner had been alive, he’d often commended Dan on his accuracy at the shooting range, and the other officers had admired his skill.

  He thought of his fallen comrades and felt his body flood with anger.

  Clearly the men pursuing him had survived the infection, but rather than being grateful, they’d chosen to do others harm. The thought made him sick, and he clenched his teeth.

  Dan leapt up from hiding and drew a bead on one of the approaching men. The man cried out in surprise, as if he’d been expecting his target to flee. Dan squeezed off a round, striking the man square in the chest. The man reeled to the pavement.

  The second man was right behind the first. Before the man could react, Dan fired again, striking him in the forehead. The man tumbled backward, dropping his rifle to the ground with a clatter.

  The men in the SUV had rolled from the desert to the road, navigating between several vehicles in an attempt to get to him. Rather than running, Dan ducked behind the blue hatchback and aimed at the oncoming vehicle.

  The SUV stopped twenty feet away, and the man in the passenger’s seat hung out the window.

  “Looks like we have a little standoff here,” the man chided.

  The driver revved the engine. Dan pointed the pistol at the man.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  The man snorted. “Nothing in particular. Just having a little fun.” He made a noise in his throat and spit a wad of phlegm into the street. “Are you going to put that down and surrender, or are we gonna have to come after you?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  The man shrugged. “Why not? You just killed two of us. And I bet it felt good, didn’t it?”

  “I shot them in self defense.”

  “Sure you did.”

  The driver revved the engine again. Dan glanced around him, taking in his options. There were several more cars behind him. He could make his way backward, putting some distance between him and the men. But then what? It was obvious they weren’t going to leave until he was dead, and even then they still might search the surrounding vehicles.

  The minivan remained still in the distance. He flicked his gaze toward it, wondering if his daughter was watching him right now, whether or not she was scared.

  “Did you see that, Carl?” the man in the passenger’s seat asked his friend. “He was looking at the minivan. I think you’re right. I bet there are more of them in there. What do you say we leave this fucker and go check?”

  The man stared at Dan, waiting for his reaction. Dan did his best to remain calm, though his heart was pounding. He eyed the men with his hand on the trigger. Even if he was outmatched and outgunned, he would do his best to stop them.

  He couldn’t let them get to his companions.

  “How about this. If you give yourself up, we’ll let the others go.”

  The man in the passenger’s seat sneered at Dan; it was obvious he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “I don’t think so,” Dan responded.

  He took careful aim, and before the man could retort, he fired off a shot and pierced the man in the neck. Blood seeped from the wound; his head sunk into his chest. The rifle fell from his grasp and hit the pavement.

  Dan adjusted his aim to the driver, but the SUV had started moving in reverse, careening back out into the desert. He squeezed off several more rounds—his last—but they bounced uselessly off the hood of the vehicle.

  Out of bullets, he watched helplessly as the SUV cruised westbound. It took him a second to realize what was happening. When he did, he sprinted frantically after it, lungs heaving.

  The driver was
on a collision course with the minivan.

  Dan cast his pistol aside and raced after the moving vehicle. He screamed a warning to his companions, but his voice seemed thin, inadequate.

  He envisioned Ken, Roberta, and Quinn hiding beneath the sleeping bag and blankets, oblivious to what was coming, and his stomach dropped.

  The SUV barged forth, picking up speed. The tires kicked up dust around it; the engine soared. Although he couldn’t see the driver, he imagined the man sneering as he aimed at the vehicle, ready to risk his own life to get to the other survivors.

  Dan had never felt more powerless.

  He watched in horror as the SUV collided with the side of the minivan, crunching into the exterior. The vehicle rocked on its axles from the impact; the side windows shattered. From somewhere inside, he heard the occupants scream.

  He was only twenty feet away now, and he pushed his body as fast as he was able, suppressing the fear that he was too late.

  The SUV tires continued to spin. Dan wondered if the man inside was still trying to do damage or if his foot was stuck on the gas.

  He reached the driver’s side door in a rage and ripped it open. The man inside was bruised and bloodied, and he was reaching for an assault rifle on the seat.

  Dan grabbed him and threw him into the dirt. The man groaned in pain. It looked like he’d injured his leg. Dan retrieved the assault rifle and slammed the door shut. He pointed it at the man.

  “One move and you’re dead.”

  With the immediate threat alleviated, he raced to check on the occupants of the minivan.

  He needed to find his daughter.

  He raced to the driver’s door and yanked, but the frame must’ve bent from the impact, and it wouldn’t budge. He cupped his hand over his eyes and peered inside. There was no sign of the occupants.

  “Quinn!” he shouted.

  He tore around the front of the vehicle, afraid of what he might find on the other side. When he reached it, he panicked. Ken and Roberta were stooped down on the pavement. Quinn was in between them.

  “Is she OK?”

  Roberta looked up as he approached, her eyes filled with concern.

  “She’s fine. Just shaken up is all.”

  Dan knelt in front of her. Quinn looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and then flung her arms around his neck. He held her close.

  “I thought they shot you, Dad.”

  “I’m fine, honey, don’t worry about me,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m OK.”

  “Were you inside when—?”

  Roberta stood and interjected.

  “Ken was watching what was going on. He already had the door open, and we were able to get out in time.”

  Dan glanced back at the minivan, where the side door was ajar. Through the opening he could see inside the interior; the driver’s side had been crunched inwards like a bent can.

  “Where’s the driver?” Ken asked.

  “I left him on the other side.”

  “I’ll run and check on him.”

  The older man grabbed the assault rifle from Dan and got to his feet, then disappeared around the other side of the minivan. Dan remained on the ground with his daughter.

  Each time they’d been separated, he’d felt a wave of guilt wash over him that was difficult to ignore. He hated leaving Quinn alone. Anytime she was in danger, he felt like a failure, like he’d made the wrong decision.

  In spite of that, she’d managed to stay safe. In just a week she’d already grown up so much.

  “You’re a brave girl,” he said to her. She looked up at him with wet eyes and he kissed her head. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of you, too, Dad.”

  He gave her a squeeze and rose to his feet. Roberta was already standing, and she gave them a contagious smile.

  “You two are lucky to have one another. I can tell you have a special bond, and it makes me happy to see it.”

  “Thanks, Roberta. I appreciate you taking care of her.”

  Dan surveyed the highway in both directions, half-expecting to see another truck or vehicle closing in, but the area remained quiet. A few seconds later he heard the trickle of conversation from the other side of the vehicle, and he assumed it was Ken and the SUV driver.

  “I’ll be back,” he said to Quinn and Roberta.

  He stalked around the vehicle to the other side. The driver of the SUV was still on the ground. Ken had the weapon trained on him.

  “I think his leg’s broken,” Ken said.

  The man groaned in response, as if to confirm the theory. His leg was bent unnaturally and he clutched it with both hands.

  “Help me,” the man whispered.

  Dan stared at the man, feeling his chest tighten with rage. He pictured his daughter in the minivan, what would have happened if Ken hadn’t seen the SUV coming. Although the impact may not have killed her, she would’ve been seriously injured.

  “After what you’ve done, we have every right to leave you here.”

  “You can’t. I-I need a doctor.”

  Dan glared at the man. “You’re on your own.”

  “You can’t leave me here.”

  “Watch me.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  Dan looked up in surprise. Ken had lowered the weapon, and he breathed a sigh.

  “Me and Roberta will do our best to get him help.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ken. With his broken leg, he’ll be unable to walk. If you come across those things, they’ll be on you in seconds.”

  “We can always drive.”

  Ken’s eyes switched from Dan’s face to the SUV; Dan followed his stare. Despite the collision, the front end appeared to be intact. By the looks of it, the bumper had absorbed most of the damage.

  “Let me see if it’s still drivable.”

  Dan walked over to the vehicle and jumped inside. The keys were still in the ignition. He fired the engine and put the car in reverse. The minivan groaned as the bumper dislodged from its side, but Dan was able to pull the car away.

  “I’m no mechanic, but it seems OK,” he called out to Ken.

  “Let me have a look,” Ken said.

  He popped the hood and he and Ken checked the vehicle. Although it was impossible to be certain, it appeared that there was no mechanical damage, and no obvious leaks from the undercarriage. It appeared the vehicle was in working order. Dan smirked at the exterior—the body covered in metal plating, the knives fastened on the side, the graffiti on the hood.

  “It’s a beast, but it should get you where you need to go,” Dan said. “In fact, the way they’ve rigged this thing, it’s probably safer than my station wagon. It’s higher off the ground, and with the weapons on the side…”

  “Why don’t you take in, Dan?”

  “We already have the—“

  “We’ll take the station wagon. You need to protect your daughter.”

  “But you’ll have the extra passenger…”

  “It will be easier to get him in and out. I mean it. Take the SUV.”

  Dan looked back out into the desert, where his Subaru Outback sat in the dirt and sand. In spite of its sentimental value, he was being offered something safer, and right now, he needed all the security he could get.

  “Thank you, Ken.”

  “No need to thank me. You’ve helped us more than we’ve helped you. You’ve saved our lives. And we’re forever grateful.”

  The girls had emerged from the other side of the vehicle. Quinn ran to Dan’s side, embracing him, and Roberta joined her husband. Dan smiled at the couple.

  “I wish you nothing but the best of luck in finding Isaac.”

  “Thanks, Dan, we really appreciate it. I know we’ll find him. We have faith.”

  The group exchanged hugs, and then they all began to pack the vehicles.

  24

  Meredith watched helplessly as the creature—the shop owner she’d once known as Mark Robins
—overpowered John and pinned him on the grass. For the moment John was holding it at bay, but Meredith knew it was only a matter of time until the thing broke loose and tore into him.

  All around her were empty fields; no sign of any weapons.

  The Camaro. Mark has to have something in there.

  She ducked into the parked car and searched frantically, but found nothing except clothes and food wrappers. The vehicle smelled of sweat and cigarette butts and she recoiled at the odor. Outside the vehicle, John grunted as he fended the creature off, the creature hissing on top of him.

  She leapt back out of the Camaro, suddenly remembering the open trunk.

  There could be a weapon inside.

  She ran the three steps to the rear of the vehicle and threw it open. What she saw made her gasp. Lying in the trunk, a knife lodged in her forehead, was the body of Sarah Robins, Mark’s wife. Her face was pale and contorted, her eyes possessed. Next to her was a shovel.

  Mark must have come to bury her.

  Meredith choked on her bile and grabbed the shovel, fearing that the dead woman would lash out and take hold of her, but the woman remained still. Weapon in hand, she rushed back to John’s aid.

  One of the creature’s hands had broken free from John’s grasp, and it flailed wildly at his face. She raised the shovel and brought it down on the thing’s back. The metal struck its skin with a deep thud, but the creature continued to attack.

  She backed up and swung again. This time she connected with its head, knocking the thing fell sideways and onto the grass. John scrambled to his feet and out of reach.

  Meredith advanced on the creature, the shovel held high above her head. The creature—the man she’d once known as Mark Robins—glared at her with empty eyes from the ground.

  She started to swing, then stopped. All she could see was the man she’d known for years, the man who’d joked and bantered with his customers as he rang up their purchases. Mark was one of the most harmless people she’d known. What must it have been like for him to have to kill his infected wife? Had he known he was infected himself?

  John came up beside her and reached for the shovel. The creature hissed at them from the ground.