Contamination Prequel (Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series)

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  Howard glanced around them in all directions, but no other figures emerged. He took the opportunity to withdraw a cellphone from his pocket. A text message was waiting for him.

  Status? It read.

  He returned his gun to its holster, and signaled for the girl to wait. Her eyes fell downwards, and she stared at her shoes in compliance. Using his thumbs, he drafted a reply.

  On schedule.

  He hit the ‘send’ button, and returned the phone to his pocket. Later, he would break it into pieces and discard the remnants in various locations. Just to be sure. Though he doubted anyone would ever make the connection. The cellphone had been sent to him by mail, probably purchased from a remote location. He knew he could trust the phone’s sender.

  Right now, he needed to focus to ensure his survival. That was what was expected of him. Only when the destruction of St. Matthews was complete would he be able to relax. He withdrew his pistol once again and began to move. The girl fell in line behind him.

  He would return her to her father, but that was it. Afterwards, the pair would be on their own, along with the rest of this God-forsaken town.

  Part Three—Broken Foundation

  11

  Dan clung to his dead wife for what seemed like an eternity. He parted her hair, kissed her forehead, and tried to ignore the fact that she looked nothing like the woman he loved. The gash on her head had stopped bleeding, but a puddle of blood on the floor served as evidence that she had once been alive.

  His mind was spinning, still trying to comprehend what had happened. Why was he still here?

  He needed to find his daughter. Though he knew Howard was searching the neighborhood, he needed to assist to ensure she was safe and protected. To ensure she was alive. Where the hell were the medics? Howard had called them, hadn’t he?

  His eyes darted around the room, passing over the wreckage that had once been his dining room. Julie’s chair lay on its back. Several of the rungs had cracked, and the back had started to separate from the frame. Next to it was the knife, which gave off only a dull shine—far less threatening without a hand to wield it.

  He had dropped his pistol on the floor next to him, freeing up both hands to cradle his wife’s body. The gun seemed to beckon to him now, a subtle reminder of his duties as a police officer and father. He felt a breeze pass through the house, kicking up a lock of Julie’s hair and draping it across his face. Howard must have left the door open.

  Dan began to think about getting up, about releasing his death-grip on a woman who had already embraced death. Quinn was still out there, and if he lost her too, he would have lost everything.

  Before he could stand, a pair of footsteps clapped against the pavement outside. The rest of the force, he thought. He was sure that Mickey and Sheriff Turner would be on their way—in fact he was surprised they hadn’t made it already. As the noises continued, he realized something sounded off. His fellow officers would have announced their presence. The footsteps he heard seemed muffled, as if the owners were trying to conceal their arrival.

  Dan’s police instincts started to kick in, and he felt for the pistol beside him, gently easing his wife back to the floor. He looked at her one last time, his fingers pressed against her dress. A flood of memories washed over him, and he choked back a sob.

  They had been married for eleven years. He had known her since high school. He remembered how beautiful she had looked at their wedding—how brave she had been during the birth of their child. The footsteps grew louder, and he grit his teeth and fought back the tears. He needed to let go. He needed to move. He let his hands slip from her body, wiped his arm across his face, and forced himself to leave.

  Dan scurried to the far end of the dining room on his knees, positioning himself between the table and the living room doorway.

  The screen door at the front of the house banged against the frame. He considered calling out, but decided against it. He aimed the pistol in front of him, propping his arms on one of the chairs.

  The TV volume seemed to increase, and he strained to hear over it. Something scraped against the wall in the living room, and Dan’s body went rigid.

  Someone was in the next room.

  A mottled hand entered the doorway, pawing at the air in front of it, testing the waters. After the appendage came a torso, and then a full body; black eyes scanning back and forth as it wormed sideways into the dining room. Dan recoiled at the figure, whose face appeared to be disintegrating in a mound of flesh. It idled towards him, feeling its way forward, heading right for the table.

  Dan fired a round, shattering its knee and sending it reeling to the floor. Another was behind it, this one faster than the last, already veering around Julie’s body and gaining ground. He fired again, splintering the side off of the chair opposite him, missing his target. The chair toppled backwards, landing on Julie’s body.

  Dan was on his feet now, scooting around the table. The first attacker fumbled on its broken knee, contending with the chair, and its companion pushed past it without skipping a beat. The creatures—things—spewed bile from their mouths, salivating onto the floor below as they tried to reach him.

  He reached the living room doorway. Behind him, he heard the remaining furniture topple over. He crossed the room, panting, and stopped at the front screen door. Outside, three more were headed up the walkway. They began to groan when they saw him.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  Dan slammed the front door shut, dead-bolting it. He whipped around, gun in front of him, and felt something grab his arm. One of the first houseguests had caught up to him. Its fingers were cold on his skin, wrapping around his wrist like icicles.

  He kicked forward, connecting with its stomach, and sent it toppling backwards into the couch. He raised his pistol and fired into it, gritting his teeth. Three bullets passed through its chest, blood and bile rippling out from the wounds. The creature sunk down onto the couch cushions, and then stood up again, unfazed.

  He heard the sound of nails on the front screen, and then something pounding on the front door. If he didn’t get out this house, Dan was certain it would become his tomb.

  He skirted around the couch, avoiding the outstretched hands of the creature in the living room, and entered the dining room again. The first creature was still on the floor, crawling on its knees, coming towards him. He shot off a round into its head and watched it collapse to the floor.

  He swiveled again, facing the remaining creature from the living room—this time aiming for its forehead. Maybe that was the key. Just like the god-damn movies, he thought. His heart sunk when he pulled the trigger.

  He was out of bullets.

  12

  “I don’t want to go back home,” Quinn whispered.

  Howard looked at her, but his eyes seemed distant. He was holding his gun in one hand and a cellphone in the other. He kept checking the phone, as if expecting someone to call. His arms were crooked upwards, and his muscles bulged underneath his shirt.

  Quinn had always looked up to him. Whenever he visited, he was especially nice. On her last birthday, he had even brought her a stack of books to read—introducing her to some of the classics that he had enjoyed as a child. Now, everything seemed different. Howard seemed different.

  “We have to go back,” he said. “Your father is there.”

  But her mother was too. A pang of fear went through her stomach as she pictured the woman who had been her mother shoving her into the bedroom, knife in hand.

  “Is he ok? Are my mom and dad ok?”

  Howard was looking at the phone again, typing on the keypad.

  “Sure, Quinn. They’re both fine. I’m going to take you home to them.”

  He kept his eyes on the cellphone, but she saw him watching her out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t telling the truth. She could
sense it. But why would he lie? What would he say when they got to her house and the truth was right there in front of them?

  She pictured Sheriff Turner’s body in the living room, bloated and bleeding. Howard hadn’t even checked for a pulse. It was as if he wasn’t concerned about the man. Or he knew something she didn’t. She watched him type away on the cellphone. Who was he talking to? And why were they standing here?

  Howard finished his message. A few seconds later, the phone vibrated.

  Quinn moved closer to the officer. In the dark, she could almost make out the incoming text message. She forced herself to cry again, inching towards him.

  “It’s ok,” he said, but he made no physical effort to console her.

  She was standing next to him now; her eyes were level with the phone. The screen glowed yellow. She shuddered when she read the words.

  Every last one must go.

  Quinn started to run.

  13

  Dan waved the empty pistol in front of him, but the creature kept coming. It sidestepped Julie’s body and then walked over the body of its dead companion. Its eyes rolled back into its head, and it began to groan.

  He stepped backwards into the kitchen, still holding the gun, wishing he had the time or the means to reload. His palms were sweaty, and he struggled to keep his balance. He bumped into the roll of paper towels and it skittered backwards, unraveling to the end of the tube.

  The creature advanced.

  Dan spotted his keys—they were on the counter to his left. A few steps further, and he could make a grab for them.

  “Stay back!” he shouted.

  The thing’s mouth opened, revealing a row of dirt-covered teeth. If it understood him, the words had little effect. Dan threw his arm sideways, succeeding only in pushing the keys farther down the counter. He made another grab. This time, he was able to close his fist around them.

  He eyed the knife holder. In his haste, he had already passed by it. He could make a lunge toward it, but that would put him in harm’s way. The creature stood beside it, mouth hanging open. He needed to get out of the house.

  He reached behind him, finding the door handle, and stepped back into the garage. He slammed the door closed, and then used his keys to lock it. The creature smashed against the other side, but the door held. For now.

  Dan’s cruiser was where he had left it, and the garage door remained closed. He ran to the car door, fumbling with the keychain. He saw his house key, his locker key, and a slew of others. Where the hell was the car key? Focus, his mind screamed.

  The creature pounded on the kitchen door, shaking it in the frame. Dan located the key and slipped it into the lock. The car was open now. He flung open the door and hopped inside, and then promptly shut it behind him.

  Bam! The kitchen door caved in, whipping against the wall and off the hinges. The creature was loose in the garage now, heading towards the car.

  “Too late, you piece of shit!” Dan cried out, turning the key in the ignition.

  The car fired up and he revved the engine. He reached up and hit the garage door opener, watching it open behind him in the rearview mirror. The creature was at the driver’s side window now, just inches away. Its breath fogged up the glass, and it began to pound on the window.

  “C’mon, hurry up!” Dan screamed at the garage door.

  He threw the car in reverse and hit the gas. The car began to inch backwards. Dan looked behind him and then rammed on the brakes.

  “Shit!”

  Howard’s police cruiser was parked in the driveway, directly behind the garage door. Julie’s Subaru Outback sat to his right. There was no way to get his car out of the garage.

  The creature hissed at him through the window, its nails scratching on the glass. Dan glanced in his rearview again. The three other things from the front yard had stepped into the garage, and were now heading for the cruiser. He looked down at the ignition. The key to the Outback dangled from the chain.

  He needed to get to the other car. And fast.

  Dan ripped the keys from the ignition and climbed into the passenger seat, knocking over a coffee cup on his way. The gun was on the seat underneath him—useless without bullets. He tucked it into the top of his pants. He reached for the door handle, and paused to look around him.

  The creature to his left had begun moving around the front of the cruiser. Three others approached the passenger side. The Outback was just a few feet away. If he didn’t get out soon, he would be trapped. Dan opened the door and leapt out.

  He grabbed hold of the car key and threw it into the Outback, but it was too late. One of the creatures ripped at his shirt collar, tearing him away from the vehicle.

  “No!” he shouted.

  Dan threw his elbow back and felt it connect with a face. The attacker fell backwards, knocking into its companions, but the three barricaded any escape from the garage. The first creature advanced from the front of the cruiser. He was surrounded.

  Dan dropped to the floor and began to pull himself underneath the Outback. He heard something clatter onto the floor behind him. Damn, he thought. His keys. From underneath the car, he saw a parade of tattered shoes stepping around them. His pulse beat through his body, sending a rush of blood to his temples.

  Dan wiggled his feet, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He reached his arm out slowly, but the keys were too far away. He inched his body towards them, balling his feet and pushing off the garage floor. He could almost reach them. He strained his fingers, watching them leave the protection of the vehicle and enter the open garage. He had almost made it when a cold, fleshy hand grabbed his wrist.

  One of the creatures was on the ground now, looking back at him with dark eyes. It hissed as it pulled on his arm.

  “Get the hell off of me!”

  He wrenched his hand back, feeling the creature’s nails scratch his wrist. The other things dropped to their knees and began reaching underneath the car, inspired by their companion. Dan pulled himself towards the other side, avoiding four sets of hands that were now clambering to get to him.

  He closed his eyes and began to pray.

  After a few seconds, Dan forced his eyes open. The hands continued to paw at him, several times catching hold of his pants, but thankfully losing their grip. His daughter needed him. He needed to act.

  He glanced towards the passenger side of the vehicle. The garage wall was empty, providing a few feet in which he could maneuver. There were no sets of feet on that side. For now, the coast was clear. He edged himself sideways, and stood up quickly on the opposite side.

  One of the creatures had started to roam towards the trunk, blocking a quick exit out the front of the garage. He looked around, searching for another option. On the back wall, he spotted the gardening tools hanging neatly from their pegs. Amongst them was a large pitchfork.

  Dan made a dash for it. The creatures had given up on the car and were now headed his way. He grabbed the pitchfork from the wall and swung it in front of him.

  “C’mon you bastards!”

  One of the creatures made a grab for him, and he propelled the tines deep into its stomach, sending it reeling backwards. He pulled back on the handle, watching a rainfall of blood soak its shirt. It staggered, momentarily off balance. He turned the pitchfork sideways and swung it like a baseball bat, propelling the creature into the side of the Outback.

  He squeezed past it and towards the back of the garage. The others were by the trunk now, and he gored the first in the neck. It toppled backward, but Dan persisted, plunging the weapon into the mass of gray flesh behind it, striking each in turn. The creatures tumbled backwards, hitting the floor, and he stood over each of their bodies, ramming the garden tool into one after the other until all movement had stopped.

  When he finished, Dan realized he was screaming. He
looked down at the creatures, whose bodies were now covered in gaping holes, fluid spilling from their insides. In all his years on the force, he had never killed anyone. In fact, he often prayed that he would retire before getting the chance. He had seen plenty of dead bodies, but none that had met their demise at his own hands.

  Dan turned his head and vomited on the garage floor, letting the pitchfork clatter to the ground. When he was finished retching, he dragged the bodies from behind the car, clearing a path to the outside.

  He retrieved the keys and started the Outback. He threw it into reverse, and sped down the driveway and out into the road.

  Somewhere, his daughter was in danger. He just prayed to God he wasn’t too late to save her.

  14

  The little girl took off running, and Howard chased after her. His attention had been on the cellphone, so she had taken him by surprise. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t get far. The phone vibrated again in his hand, but this time he slid it into his pocket.

  They had been standing next to the side of a house when she took off. A few trees lined the perimeter, and she had slipped through them to the neighboring property. He clutched his gun, unsure of what he might run into. The plan had been set in motion, and soon the streets would start to fill with the infected. The contamination had begun.

  Ahead of him, he saw a small shadow slip around to the front of the house next door. Although he only caught a quick glance, he was pretty sure it was Quinn. He thought for a second about abandoning the chase, about letting fate take its course. Sooner or later, she would run into one of them, and that would be the end of it. Saving her now would only delay the inevitable.

  Five years ago, when he had moved to St Matthews, Howard had tried to keep to himself. There was no use in befriending any of his co-workers or socializing with the townspeople—not with what he knew was coming. He tried to focus instead on his training, on honing his physical and mental abilities. After a few years, he had let his guard down.