Contamination Box Set [Books 0-7]

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end was hoarse, barely audible.

  “John?”

  “Meredith? Is that you?”

  His voice wavered as he spoke, and she could hear banging and clattering in the background.

  “Are you all right? What’s all that noise?”

  “I tried calling you…” His voice trailed off.

  “I’m not at home. I’m at Sheila Guthright’s house. Something happened to her, John. She’s been—”

  A crash sounded from the other end of the phone, and Meredith jumped in surprise, almost dropping the receiver.

  “John, what’s going on over there?”

  “Meredith…there’s something I need to tell you…”

  The noise had risen to a crescendo; John’s voice was barely audible. Meredith clutched the phone tight, suddenly terrified that she’d lose contact with him.

  “John? What is it? Can you hear me? I need you to stay on the phone.”

  A hiss washed over the other end, drowning out the man’s response. Meredith’s heart hammered, and she screamed his name into the mouthpiece.

  “John! Don’t hang up!”

  All at once the noise subsided. She strained her ears, waiting for the man to speak again, but all she could hear was the sound of him breathing on the other end. Finally he spoke.

  “I’ve always loved you, Meredith,” he said.

  There was a gunshot, and then the phone disconnected.

  PART TWO – THE NORTH STAR

  9

  Dan, Quinn, and Sandy navigated the streets soundlessly, deadening their footsteps as they walked. The town contained an eerie calm, as if the three of them were on stage, an invisible audience watching from the shadows.

  Aside from the pack of creatures they’d seen inside the bank, they’d yet to see any others, and the quietude was making Dan nervous. Every now and again he’d hear a distant crash or a footfall, but each time nothing appeared.

  It was as if the creatures were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  The three of them were currently on Vanderbilt Street, an offshoot of the main road that ran through St. Matthews. All around them were brick commercial buildings and small service shops. Despite his ten years in the community, Dan realized he’d never paid much attention to them. Now it seemed like they were impossible to ignore.

  To his right were a vacuum cleaner store, a woodworking company, and a jewelry maker. To his left a salon, an art gallery, and a historical museum.

  It was as if these places hadn’t even existed before today, and had sprung to life only to complete the picture of the perfect town.

  And St. Matthews had been the perfect town. Or pretty damn close to it.

  Sure, the town had had its problems. But the good had usually outweighed the bad. Dan had never regretted his decision to move to St. Matthews, and he was sure Julie hadn’t, either.

  Together they’d built a life here, providing a stable home for Quinn and working in professions that were satisfying and rewarding.

  Now, the town was a grim reminder of a life torn apart. Not just for him, but for the several thousand other residents who once lived here.

  It was time to get out. There was nothing left for them here.

  Dan crept through the broken street, keeping a cautious eye on his surroundings. Each new block presented a host of dark hiding places, and he did his best to scrutinize every one. Behind him, Quinn and Sandy had linked hands, and he could hear their bated breath as they walked the pavement.

  Ahead of him were cars spun sideways, signs bent and hanging over, and a slew of paperwork and discarded clothing. There were also bodies—some sitting upright in vehicles, as if they might fire the engines and drive away—others lying in the middle of the street. Unlike a few days prior, the bodies had started to decompose, their limbs picked at by the birds.

  So far, the cars they’d seen had been crashed, but Dan kept his eyes peeled for a vehicle they could use. Being on foot made him feel open and exposed, and the feeling was unsettling.

  They’d already travelled several blocks from the bank; the lumberyard was a few miles away. If they could reach it without incident, he’d persuade Reginald to return their car, either by conversation or by force.

  Whatever it took.

  Dan peered into a pickup truck on the side of the road. The windows were smashed and the airbag deflated. By the looks of it, the truck had crashed into an older-model Buick, and the Buick sat empty at the side of the road. Unlike the pickup, the Buick appeared intact, sporting only a dent in the rear bumper.

  Dan crept to the driver’s side window and peered in. A set of keys dangled from the ignition. The only passenger was a body in the passenger’s seat.

  The girls had stopped behind him, and they stared, awaiting direction.

  He held up his pointer finger.

  “Hold on,” he mouthed.

  The window of the vehicle was rolled up. The driver’s door was locked, but he could see an open window on the other side. He made his way over.

  Once on the other side, he reached over the sill into the passenger’s seat, avoiding the lifeless body that resided there. The corpse was a woman’s, and her bloodied, matted hair reminded him of the bristles of a broom. Her face was sunken in and gray, her features obscured by the onset of decay.

  Dan hit a button and unlocked the doors.

  The click made him jump, and he stared over his shoulder at the street, certain he’d have awoken something nearby. The coast was clear.

  The girls stood at the trunk of the car, doe-eyed and nervous, and he gave them a nod for reassurance. Then he reached across the lap of the dead woman and turned the key.

  The engine rumbled and fired.

  “Let’s go, girls,” he said. “In the backseat.”

  Given the noise of the vehicle, they had to leave. At the same time, he didn’t want to ride with a dead body. He ripped open the passenger’s side door and grabbed hold of the dead woman, intending to place her in the street.

  To his dismay, the woman’s clothing snagged; despite his efforts, he was unable to move her. It took him a minute to realize she had her seatbelt on.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  The girls had already scooted into the rear of the vehicle and were watching him, hands clutching the seats. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn glancing out the back window. He continued to tug at the body.

  “Dad!” she yelled suddenly.

  His fingers froze on the seatbelt latch, and he followed her gaze. It didn’t take him long to notice what she’d seen.

  The street behind them had filled with creatures.

  Moans and footfalls filled the air, a cavalcade of the things tumbling forward over cars and debris to get to them. There was no time to delay.

  Dan clambered over the woman’s body and pulled the door shut behind him. When he reached the driver’s seat, he kicked away a pile of papers and trash underfoot and found the gas pedal.

  Then he put the vehicle into drive.

  The Buick hesitated, and for a split second, Dan feared that it was more damaged than he thought. Come on, dammit. He pushed the pedal to the floor. A second later the car lurched forward and out into the road, and he wrenched the steering wheel away from the curb.

  In the rearview, he saw that the creatures had gained ground; a few had managed to grip the trunk, their fingernails sliding across the metal. Dan accelerated and swerved around an abandoned vehicle, effectively throwing them off, and proceeded up the road.

  The streets had come alive.

  Creatures sprang from the windows, emerged through alleyways, and crashed through doors. It was as if the Buick had become a signal, emitting an invi
sible beacon to the world around it. The clutter on the road thickened, and without warning, Dan’s speed fell to a crawl.

  The things poured from all sides now, converging on the vehicle. One of them flung itself into the open passenger’s side window, dangling halfway over the sill.

  Dan hit the automatic window lever, lifting the pane on its midsection. The window gears ground as they strained against the weight of the creature.

  “Dad!”

  Hands pounded the Buick on all sides, and despite his efforts, Dan struggled to keep his focus on driving. In spite of that, he knew he couldn’t give up. The girls in the backseat were depending on him.

  The creature in the window snapped its jaws, trying to reach Dan. Raising the window had only trapped it; now it was stuck between the window and the doorframe.

  “Is there anything you can use back there to hit it?” he shouted.

  The girls dug under the seats behind him. Dan reached for the pistol tucked in his pants, but the creature had begun to swat at him, as if sensing what he had in store.

  “I’ve got something!” Sandy yelled.

  Dan’s eyes flicked to the rearview; the girl had found a crowbar. He watched as she leaned over the seat and started clubbing the thing. The creature spit and flailed.

  “I’m going to roll down the window! When I do, hit it as hard as you can!”

  “OK!” the girl cried.

  He jabbed the button, lowering the window, and watched as Sandy swung at the thing’s skull. The crowbar connected with its forehead, and it fell limp into the passenger’s seat, resting on top of the dead woman.

  Dan swerved left and then right, shaking it loose, and it toppled backward and fell out into the street. He rolled up the window, just in time to avoid another pair of lunging hands.

  The creatures in the street had thickened—there were now several hordes approaching from the front. So far Dan had been able to drive unimpeded, but the road was getting worse. Up ahead, a minivan and a dump truck barred the majority of the street, and the sidewalk wasn’t looking much better.

  Despite his practiced driving skills, there was only so much Dan could do.

  He withdrew the gun Quinn had used and set it on his lap. If he’d counted correctly, there were five bullets left. The rest of their weapons had been stolen with the station wagon.

  He glared at the grim path ahead of them, looking for options.

  The sidewalk was covered in restaurant furniture, trees, and newspaper boxes. Even if he were to veer onto it, they wouldn’t make it more than a few feet. At the same time, the road ahead was completely blocked off.

  He had to do something. The creatures had them surrounded.

  “Hang on!” he shouted.

  Eyeing the two tear-stained faces in the backseat, Dan swerved off the road, heading straight for the nearest building.

  10

  Meredith bit back the tears. She clenched the phone in her hand, dialing John’s number over and over, but it was useless. There was no answer. After the fourth try she let the receiver drop and grabbed her rifle.

  She needed to get to him. Fast.

  She darted back out the door, feet pounding the grass, and jumped inside her pickup. The engine growled. She revved the gas and spun the tires, doing a U-turn on the field, then roared down the driveway.

  When she reached the end, she barreled onto the main road without stopping.

  She thought back to what she’d heard. There had been noises; of that she was certain. Someone or something had been in John’s store, or trying to break in. That alone had her panicked. But even more troubling was the single gunshot. That was enough to make her stomach feel queasy, hollow inside.

  She just hoped to God he was all right.

  In spite of what John had done to her, she couldn’t deny what they’d once had. She’d repressed her feelings for months, trying to forget this man, but now that he was in danger her emotions had come back stronger than ever.

  Before the phone disconnected, John had said that he loved her. And try as she might, Meredith couldn’t deny the fact that she loved him, too.

  Meredith had first met John on a trip to town about a year ago.

  She’d been driving to the market, intent on getting the week’s groceries, when she saw a sign on the side of the road that she’d never seen before.

  “Furniture Shop.”

  The sign was simple and plain, propped against a wooden barrel in the parking lot of a small log-cabin storefront. Formerly the building had been used to house one of the local farmer’s vegetables, but it hadn’t been occupied in years. For as long as she could remember, it’d been boarded up and closed down.

  Driving by that day, she’d been surprised to find the building open, the doors ajar and the lights on inside. A blue pickup had been sitting in the gravel parking lot, a Michigan license plate on the back.

  After driving several miles past the store, Meredith’s curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she’d driven back and pulled in. Then she’d cut the engine and stepped out into the parking lot.

  Aside from her car and the blue pickup, the place had been deserted. She’d walked in with a furrowed brow, unsure of what she’d find inside.

  True to the sign out front, the store had been filled with furniture: chairs, tables, dressers, and bureaus. Many were plain wood, unstained, and several were still in progress. It appeared all the furniture had been built by hand.

  The shop was comprised of one large room, with several support beams in the center to solidify the structure. There was a door in back, but it was closed, and as far as she knew there were no other buildings behind it.

  After perusing the contents of the shop for a few minutes with no sign of the owner, she’d forced a cough, hoping to announce her presence. It was then that she’d heard the noise coming from out back—a slow, rhythmic scraping coming from behind the shop.

  Meredith had walked out of the store and made her way around back. The area around the furniture shop was covered in field grass, with no other buildings in sight. If it weren’t for the several stores that she knew were about a mile down the road, it would almost feel like the building had been transplanted from somewhere else, thrust into nature without forethought.

  When she reached the back of the store, she saw a figure in the distance—a man bent over a piece of wood, his arms moving in a repeated pattern. As she walked closer, she could see that he was using a hand plane.

  She was ten feet away before he noticed her. When he did, he jumped.

  “Hi,” Meredith said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The man set down the plane and smiled.

  “That’s OK. I needed a break anyway.”

  He rose to his feet to greet her, dusting his palms on his jeans.

  Meredith noticed several things at the same time: he was a lot taller than her, he was in great shape, and he was handsome. Before she knew it she was blushing, and she took a few awkward steps forward to meet his hand.

  “I’m Meredith Tilly.”

  “John Parish,” he said.

  With the introductions over with, she shoved her hands in her jeans pockets, hoping he wouldn’t see her shaking. Normally Meredith was outgoing and relaxed, but something about him had her off her game.

  “I love the store. When did you open?”

  “Today, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. You’re my first customer.” This time it was his turn to blush.

  “Hopefully I’ll be the first of many.”

  John smiled.

  “Where’d you move from?” she asked, recalling the Michigan license plate.

  “Detroit.”

  “That’s a long ways from Settler’s Creek, Oklahoma. How�
��d you end up here?”

  John shrugged.

  “This place isn’t exactly a commercial hotbed,” she said.

  She immediately clasped her hand over her mouth.

  “I’m sorry. That might have come out wrong. I guess I’m just surprised that you’d choose our little town.”

  John laughed. “I know. I just wanted a change of pace. This is actually a lifelong dream of mine, believe it or not. I’ve been building kitchens and wall units for years, but I’ve always wanted to run my own furniture shop. I passed through here on a road trip a while back and I fell in love.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great here.” She smiled.

  “Thanks. My plan is to manufacture most of my furniture here and then sell it at local shows and conventions.”

  “I assume everything here is handmade?” she asked.

  “Yep. And if you don’t see something here that you’d like, I’d be happy to build it for you.”

  “I might take you up on that. I’m actually in the market for a new kitchen table and chairs.”

  Meredith flashed a smile. In truth, she didn’t need a kitchen set, because she rarely had visitors. The furniture she had was in decent enough shape, and besides, she didn’t have the extra money to be spending on something like that.

  After a few more minutes of small talk, she’d shaken his hand and parted ways with the shop owner.

  A week later she’d gone back and placed an order.

  Things with John had heated up quickly. Before Meredith knew it, she’d been at his shop almost every day with a new question about her kitchen set. He’d always done his best to answer her, offering suggestions about the wood and the stains, explaining the process as he built it.

  After discussing her order, they would go on to talk about a host of other things: news about town, Meredith’s farm, or books and movies they’d enjoyed. Like her, John was an avid reader, and they soon discovered that they liked many of the same novels.