contamination 7 resistance con

by Unknown

  Only maintenance workers were likely to have been in the building. That might make it a safe stronghold. They could rest and gather supplies before moving on. Hopefully, they'd find a more stable vehicle than the truck.

  They detoured from the road into the parking lot, keeping quiet. Simon kept the flashlight off. Sandy searched the dark windows on all floors of the building, expecting to hear hissing, hungry creatures waiting for a meal, but heard no clues that the building was occupied. The parking lot and the front entrance were silent and still.

  "Let's check the back," Simon whispered.

  Cautiously optimistic, Sandy followed him as he led the group from the front of the building to the rear. The lot was empty save a single vehicle occupying a spot near the rear entrance.

  Simon appraised it from a hundred feet away. He halted.

  "What is it?" Sandy hissed.

  "Someone's inside." Simon raised his pistol, pointing at the vehicle and creeping closer.

  Sandy motioned for the others to stay back. She hung behind Simon, holding her breath. She readied her knife. From the faint light of the moon, she made out a beat-up sedan. She couldn't see any more details than that.

  Simon flicked the flashlight on, shining its beam over the car, revealing a sprinkle of glass by the driver's side window and a flat tire. He moved the light up to the driver's side door, illuminating a half-eaten face.

  Sandy jumped. It looked like the person had been there for days. The person's face was gray and missing pieces, probably scavenged by birds and predators.

  "Poor bastard," Sandy whispered.

  Having determined nothing threatening was inside the vehicle, Simon walked up and inspected the car. "It's got a flat, but there might be a spare. The keys are in it. Let's see if it starts."

  Sandy watched as Simon reached through the window and past the corpse. The flashlight moved, exposing a tangle of black hair, a thin flannel shirt. The person had probably been a maintenance worker. Sandy had seen plenty of corpses, but something about this one, alone in a parking lot, was especially unsettling.

  Simon found a key in the ignition and turned it. The vehicle clicked but didn't turn over.

  "Dammit," he said. "Looks like we're going inside."

  The keys from the dead maintenance worker's car opened the school. Simon swung the back door open slowly, aiming his gun into a silent, dark hallway.

  "I'll go first," he said, leading with the pistol.

  The others followed. Sandy smelled the distinct odor of bleach from a set of bathroom doors, as if the school had been cleaned prior to the infection. Most of the classroom doors were open. They swept each one with the flashlight. When they were finished checking, Hector took a staggering step, catching himself on the wall.

  "Hector!" Marcia whispered.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just a little woozy," he replied.

  Simon motioned to one of the doors labeled 'Break Room'. "Why don't you go in there and wait while I check the rest of the building?" he said.

  "Are you sure?" Sandy asked.

  "Yes. I'll be fine. I'll come back as soon as I'm done," Simon said.

  He handed Sandy the bag of food he'd been carrying. Sandy took it as he headed off down the hallway without a word. She watched his flashlight disappear.

  "Come on," Marcia said, watching him go. "He wouldn't have given us the food if he planned on leaving. Let's get Hector to a place where he can lie down."

  Sandy followed the others into the break room. The moon shone through the windows, illuminating coffee machines, a microwave oven, and condiments on the counters. In the center of the room were a couch and several chairs. A foul smell grew worse as they got farther into the room. Marcia coughed. Sandy saw what looked like a plate of food that had been left out on the counter.

  "Someone missed dinner," Hector said, attempting a smile.

  "I don't think the smell is just from that," Sandy said, pointing at an oversized refrigerator. "Everything inside is probably rotten. We shouldn't open the door."

  "Come on over to the couch," Marcia said, directing Hector toward it. "You should rest, honey."

  "I'm fine," Hector said.

  Despite protesting, he sat down with a sigh of relief. Marcia and Anabel sat next to him, keeping him company. After shutting and locking the door, Sandy found some napkins on the counter and gave them to Marcia. She took them gratefully, dabbing the remainder of the blood from Hector's face.

  Sandy looked out across the parking lot, afraid that they might've drawn more creatures with the noise they'd made earlier, but all she saw were the silhouettes of the mountains and the empty, lifeless road.

  Her mind wandered to the dead, half-eaten man in the car. If they hadn't left the lumberyard, she had no doubt that they would've died, too—either from the creatures, or from Reginald.

  "Thank God we got away," Marcia said, echoing Sandy's thoughts.

  "And we have food and water, too," Sandy added, setting her and Simon's bags on the counter. "Things could be worse."

  "I feel awful for Finn," Hector said. "He shouldn't have died like that."

  "We did what we could," Marcia said with a quiet sniffle.

  Marcia hugged Anabel tight. Anabel remained quiet, burying herself in her mother's embrace. It seemed like she was in shock. Why wouldn't she be? The events since the infection had rattled all of them, forcing them to endure things no one should have to face. Sandy listened as Simon's footsteps in the hallway get quieter. A door creaked, and the hallway fell silent.

  "Do you think we'll be able to find a vehicle in the morning?" Hector asked.

  "I hope so," said Sandy. "Going into the mountains on foot would be even more dangerous than staying here."

  "I wish we had some more weapons," Hector said.

  Sandy walked over to the counters and sifted through the plastic utensils. She opened a few drawers and quietly rifled through them, but she couldn't see much in the dark. She'd have to wait for Simon.

  "If we can survive the night, maybe we can check the utility shed," Sandy said. "I saw one in back."

  She doubted the school would have much weaponry. But they'd search just the same. She walked back to the others and leaned against one of the walls.

  "You did a brave thing," Hector said out of the blue.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Rescuing Dan and Quinn." Hector nodded. "I'm not sure I would've had the guts to do that. You probably saved their lives."

  "I hope so. It was the best I could do for them, given the situation. I hope Reginald didn't find them."

  Sandy closed her eyes. The headache she'd had earlier had subsided, but her arms were sore. She'd heard that the aftereffects of a collision could sometimes take days to appear. She hoped she was experiencing the worst of it. Staring into the dark, her thoughts roamed to Ben. She wondered how things would've turned out differently if her brother had been here. Where would they be? Would they already be someplace far away?

  She still saw his snarling, twisted face coming at her.

  A gunshot ripped the thought away.

  "What was that?" Hector asked, sitting up from the couch.

  "Simon," Sandy said frantically.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sandy ran to the break room door, as if an onslaught of creatures might burst through it. She put her body weight against it. But the hallway was silent. She no longer heard footsteps, or any sign that Simon was alive.

  "Where the hell is he?" Hector whispered, taking up a position next to her.

  "I don't know."

  One part of her wanted to rush into the hallway and determine if Simon was okay. The other knew she should remain in silence, preserving their safety.

  She looked across the room, catching sight of Marcia's and Anabel's trembling silhouettes. Looking out the windows and into the parking lot, Sandy saw nothing that might've caused the noise.

  One of the creatures might be inside. Or maybe something else happened?

  Simon would've yell
ed for help, wouldn't he? Sandy swallowed and tried to reassure herself that nothing was wrong, even though her heart galloped with fear. She put her ear against the door.

  A thump from the end of the hallway gave her a spike of fear.

  Sandy looked around the room, locating the couch and chairs. Reinforcing the thin entrance might be the only thing that saved them from being eaten. But Sandy was frozen in place. The instinct to stay still was greater than the motivation to move.

  Another noise sounded in the hallway. It sounded like a door clicking shut. Something scratched the floor at the end of the hallway. Sandy strained her ears, resisting the urge to call Simon's name, fearful she'd lure something else instead.

  Hector's face was little more than a featureless oval.

  A knock rattled the door.

  Sandy stifled a cry as a thin beam of light appeared in the crack underneath the frame.

  "It's me," Simon hissed.

  "One of those things was on the second floor, but I took care of it. I found this in the nurse's office," Simon said, handing over a medical kit as they let him in. "I figured we could use more supplies."

  Sandy watched Simon. He didn't appear to be injured. She took the kit and stashed it near one of the bags of food.

  "The gunshot had us worried," she admitted. "What the hell happened?"

  "There was a broken window in one of the classrooms on the first floor," Simon said. "It looks like one of those things had slithered through it. I moved a few desks in front of the opening to help stop others from getting in. Then I locked the door. Hopefully the building helped muffle the gunshot."

  Sandy blew a nervous breath. Her uneasy nerves had become the norm, and they'd saved her life more than once. Looking at the door, she asked, "What do you think, Simon? Will we be safe for the night?"

  Simon paused. "I think so. If we see anything coming, we have a few exits to choose from. I made sure all the entrances are locked." He held up the set of keys he was carrying.

  Feeling more relaxed, Sandy exhaled. Exhaustion had been riding on her shoulders all day. It'd be good to sleep, even though she wasn't sure she'd be able to. With the immediate danger over, she felt a pang of hunger. Meals had become a task, to be taken care of in between running and surviving.

  "Is anyone hungry?" she asked.

  "I could use a drink," Hector admitted.

  Sandy opened one of the bags of safe food and began digging. Simon assisted with his flashlight. Inside she found bottles of water and provisions wrapped in red packaging—supplies that had once belonged to the agents, the people who had perpetrated the contamination, according to Dan.

  "We should ration it," she said, as if someone might argue. No one did. She passed out enough water bottles so that each person had his or her own.

  Having accepted a bottle of water, Simon turned off his flashlight and hunched down on the floor next to Sandy. A different type of silence settled over the room, now that Simon had joined them.

  "I probably should've said this earlier, but I'm sorry for what happened at the lumberyard." He cleared this throat.

  The people in the room stayed quiet. No one accepted the apology. They just listened.

  "I want to say there are reasons for it, but they're probably just excuses." Simon paused to take a deep breath. "Watching my sister die in Tucson was one of the hardest things I've ever faced. And the things I saw afterward were just as bad. I know we've all seen similar things, and I'm not saying I'm special. But I think something inside of me broke at that moment, and that led me to make some selfish decisions at the lumberyard."

  Hector cleared his throat and clung to his family. After a pause, he said, "I appreciate you owning up to that, Simon."

  Simon continued. "Hearing all those things Dan said about the agents made me nervous. To think that someone caused this intentionally was almost impossible to believe. Or maybe I didn't want to believe it. I don't expect you to trust me right away. But I hope we can work together. Nobody else should have to die like Finn did."

  "Of course not," Marcia said, making the sign of the cross. "Let's hope we can keep safe."

  Some of the tension seemed to deflate from the room as Simon drank from his water bottle. He seemed as relieved as the others, now that he'd aired some of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Do you think we're really immune, like Dan said?"

  "If so, it wouldn't matter what we ate or drank," Sandy said. "But we shouldn't take any chances."

  "That's a smart idea. We don't know how long the infection takes to kick in," Hector agreed.

  "The fact that we're still here is a miracle," Marcia agreed quietly from the couch. "Someone must be watching over us."

  Sandy uncapped her water and took a small swig. She swallowed, trying to remember the last uninterrupted rest she'd had.

  Anabel's small voice piped up beside Marcia. "Can we eat now, Mom? I'm hungry."

  They chuckled nervously. Sandy reached back into the bag and pulled out a package, reading the label aloud. "Crackers," she said. "That sounds great about now. Doesn't it, Anabel?"

  "Yes."

  Sandy smiled. Despite what they'd been through, they'd escaped the lumberyard. They'd survived the truck issues and gotten to the school building. Aside from some cuts and bruises, they were relatively intact. She allowed a smile to linger on her face as she passed out the food to the people in the room. They ate in silence, each person running through the events that had led them there. When they were finished, Hector stood and offered his family the couch.

  "Why don't you rest here," he told Marcia and Anabel. "I'll take the first watch, since I need to stay awake anyway."

  "Someone should watch you," Marcia scolded. "What if you fall asleep by accident? You still might have a concussion."

  Simon cut in. "I'll keep an eye on you."

  "You will?" Hector asked.

  "I'm already wide awake," Simon continued. "And besides, I don't think I'd be able to sleep, after killing that thing upstairs."

  "I know the feeling," Sandy said. "The adrenaline of killing those things in the street still has me wide awake. I can take second shift, if you'd like."

  "We shouldn't need much more than that," Simon said. "It'll be daylight soon. We can search the school again in the morning and figure out a plan. There have to be more cars close by."

  "I saw a utility shed in back," Sandy repeated.

  "That sounds good. We should check it."

  "I'm just glad we're out of the lumberyard," Sandy said.

  "I hope we never see Reginald again," Marcia agreed.

  The group settled into the most comfortable places they could find. Sandy lay on an area rug on the floor, using a bag of packaged food to prop up her head. Marcia and Anabel lay on the couch cushions, while Hector lay on the couch without pillows. Simon took a spot in a chair by the window, looking out over the vacant, moonlit parking lot, the gun in his lap.

  "I'll check on you from time to time," Simon told Hector.

  "Sounds good," Hector replied. "Goodnight, everybody."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Reginald stared around him at the darkened city. Never in his life had he wanted to see lights so badly—some sign that his pursuits weren't pointless. He'd have to turn around soon. They'd been driving for almost an hour, and they'd been away from the lumberyard for way too long. He didn't trust Simon. And he certainly didn't trust Hector, Sandy, or the others. He wiped a band of sweat from his forehead.

  They were probably already plotting against him, stealing his things.

  More than likely, Dan was over the mountains, heading to some other town.

  Reginald had wasted too much time pursuing that other vehicle.

  He'd killed his chance at revenge.

  Dammit.

  Billy and Tom shifted in their seats, nervously watching the road. Their confidence seemed to have eroded after the confrontation with those people in the restaurant. Billy and Tom were weak. Useless. Reginald had a good mind to drop them
off somewhere and let them find their way back. He doubted they'd survive until morning.

  "We should turn around," Billy tried, measuring his words. "I don't think we're going to find them."

  "I'm checking Route 191 first," Reginald said after a pause. "We'll see if we can see lights in the city when we get some elevation on the mountains."

  Billy and Tom exchanged a look that they thought Reginald didn't see. His anger flared as he thought about how useless their trip had been.

  Thick, sloping rock faces appeared to the right of the vehicle as he ascended the mountain road, creeping toward the road's shoulder. There were no guardrails. He looked over the edge, wondering if Dan's car had ended up in some ditch.

  Maybe I scared the fucker so bad he ran off the road.

  That thought almost made Reginald laugh.

  Maybe I'll find him in time to finish him off.

  "Watch out!" Billy shouted.

  Too late, Reginald swerved as one of the creatures appeared in the road. The Buick jerked to the side. Reginald started to yell, but he didn't have time to formulate a sentence before they were in the air. He clipped the creature, sending it tumbling off the mountain.

  And then they were following it.

  He pumped the brakes and turned the wheel. Nothing happened. The headlights pierced the empty air in front of him as the car turned sideways, throwing Reginald into Billy. He regurgitated the crackers he'd eaten earlier, projectile-vomiting sideways onto his friend. Billy's and Tom's screams filled the air as the car kissed the mountain ravine and slid. Reginald tried to scream, but before he could, his world went black.

  PART TWO: INHERIT THE WASTELAND

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sandy didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she'd woken up in the middle of a large room.

  People strode by her in all directions. Some were clients from her salon; others were neighbors from her apartment building. Some were people she'd never met. Their features were blurry as they hurried into a room she couldn't see. She tried to turn, but her legs were rooted in place.