“Do you need me to—?”
She stared at Mark, who’d already risen to a crouch, arms poised to strike.
“No, I’ve got it,” Meredith said.
She arched the shovel back over her head and swung as hard as she could. This time she didn’t stop until the creature was dead.
“Are you OK?” John asked.
“I’m fine.”
Meredith stared at the road ahead, her eyes wide and unblinking. On the horizon was an endless sea of grass. The asphalt was even more cracked and covered than before, and the pickup jolted and bounced as she drove.
“I can only imagine what you’re going through,” John said. “You’ve known these people a lot longer than I have.”
“My whole life.”
Meredith swallowed, her gaze drifting over the distant fields.
“I’m sorry all of this happened.”
“Do you have any idea what this feels like, John? To have to do this to people you knew? People you loved?” she asked.
“I can’t say that I do.”
“Of course you don’t.”
John paused.
“I’m here for you, Meredith,” he said.
Meredith glanced over at him, her hands trembling. For some reason, instead of the man she’d once loved, all she saw was the man who had betrayed her.
“Like you were before? When you lied to me?”
John went silent.
“You hurt me, John.”
“I know, and I feel awful about it. If I could take it all back—do things differently—I would. I should’ve told you the truth.”
“Damn right you should’ve.”
Even though it wasn’t the time or place, Meredith couldn’t suppress the swell of anger. She tried to tell herself that it was the adrenaline rush of what had happened to Mark—or perhaps the shock from what had happened to Sheila, Ben, Marcy, and the doctor. Whatever the case, she was unable to stop the words from tumbling from her mouth.
“Why couldn’t you have told me the truth sooner?”
“I was afraid of what you might think. That you might…look at me differently. All I wanted was a fresh start. To leave the past behind.”
“Have you seen her since?”
“No. That was the only time. We signed the papers, Meredith. It’s over with.”
Meredith felt her breathing slow to normal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John reaching for her hand and she let him take it. He squeezed her fingertips; his hand firm and warm.
“I’m sorry, Meredith—for all of this, for everything. I know this isn’t the time or place to discuss this, but I want a chance to start over, for real this time.”
She looked over at him. He was staring at her intently, his brown eyes containing the same warmth as when she met him. Before she knew it her anger had dimmed, and in its place was a wave of guilt.
“Me too,” she said finally. “Maybe I overreacted. It’s just that…I’ve been hurt before, and I couldn’t stand to be hurt again.”
“You didn’t overreact at all. I deserved it.”
“I should’ve let you explain. But I was so…angry that you’d lied to me, that I couldn’t see past it.” She sighed. “All of that seems so irrelevant now.”
He nodded.
“From now on, John, no more lies.”
“You saved my life, Meredith. If telling the truth is what you want, that’s the least I can do.”
John gave her a smile, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“I love you, Meredith.”
“I love you, too.”
Several miles later the town appeared. Buildings reared their heads over adjacent fields, the sun glancing off their rooftops. Overhead, the birds sang and circled. From this distance, Settler’s Creek seemed calm and familiar, bearing little resemblance to the nightmarish warzone they’d encountered earlier.
But Meredith knew better.
Every so often she’d notice hints of movement between the buildings; a subtle reminder of the danger that lurked within. She counted her blessings that they’d been able to take an alternate route.
At this point, going into town would be a suicide mission.
Every so often, Meredith drove past an offshoot road that led into town, but she passed without stopping. Presumably they’d be blocked off too, which was just as well.
Since leaving behind Mark and the Camaro, they’d yet to see another car on the road.
When they reached the third such turn, Meredith continued driving, intent on passing by it. It wasn’t until John spoke up that she hit the brake.
“Turn here,” he said.
“How come? If we go a bit further, it will take us closer to my house and we can avoid more of the main roads.”
“Trust me.”
She turned the wheel just in time, changing course onto the side road, and smiled. For most of her life, Meredith had been the one making the decisions. But the events of the last day had left her physically and emotionally drained. It felt good to have someone to share the burden.
Much like the previous road, the street was weathered and worn. As they progressed down it, Meredith wrinkled her brow.
“Doesn’t this come out near the furniture shop?”
John nodded.
“What if the infected are still there?”
“Hopefully they’ve left. We’ll have to be careful.”
“What are we going to do there?”
“Trust me.”
Meredith fell silent. In spite of their rocky past, she did trust John; if he was taking her back to the furniture shop, there must be a reason.
A few minutes later they approached another barrier similar to the one they’d crossed before, and she swerved around it and into the grass. This time there were no cars buried on the other side, and soon they were back on the main road.
Meredith’s arms prickled. The last time she’d been on this road she was rushing to John’s aid. For the past few miles she’d been able to dispel the thoughts of the infected, but now the memories came flooding back.
She swallowed and continued down the road.
Before she knew it, the furniture shop had appeared in the distance. She squinted against the sun’s glare, but saw no shapes or shadows around the exterior.
“Maybe they’re gone,” she said out loud, as if saying the words would make them true.
“Hopefully.”
John dug into the backseat and retrieved the shovel they’d taken from Mark’s Camaro. In the absence of a gun, the garden tool was the next best thing to a weapon.
Meredith pulled up to the entrance, leaving a twenty-foot buffer zone between the truck and the door. From what she could see the, store was abandoned, deserted. The door was hanging ajar, but there was no movement from inside.
“Wait here,” John instructed.
She watched as he climbed out of the vehicle, shovel in hand, and then clicked the door shut behind him. The hum of insects wafted through the broken windshield—a constant reminder of their lack of protection. She kept her foot on the gas and the vehicle in drive, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
John’s boots crunched the pavement as he crept toward the store. When he reached the entrance, he used the shovel to open the door and peer inside. Meredith kept her eyes glued to the opening, but saw nothing but furniture inside. If any of the creatures were inside, they were hidden. John slipped through the door.
She waited in silence. The engine purred. Seconds later, he emerged and gave her the thumbs up.
“We’re good. Can you pull around back?”
“What are we here for, John?” she called through the windshield.
“Supplies,” he said simply, before heading back into the store.
She shrugged, then released her foot from the brake and rolled to the rear of the building. John was already on his way out of the store. In his hands was a large piece of wood. He brought it to the pickup’s cab and dropped the door. She noticed he was win
cing.
“Is your leg all right?”
“I’ll manage. But I could use some help.”
He grinned at her and she smiled back. She switched the car into park and hopped out to join him, leaving the engine running. John slid the piece of wood—a four by eight—into the truck and walked back inside.
John motioned to a pile of wood he had stacked in one of the corners.
“Luckily I just stocked up the other day.”
“What’s all this for?”
“It was for the Daley’s kitchen.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s what we’re going to use to board up the windows of your house. If we have any chance at surviving this thing, we’ll have to make sure no one gets inside.”
“I knew I saved you for a reason.”
“Never underestimate a woodworker.”
25
“I don’t like this thing,” Quinn said, peering out over windowsill of the SUV. Dan watched as she stretched her seatbelt, straining to get a better view of the graffiti spray-painted on the hood. In spite of her comment, he could tell that she was feeling better. After their run-in with the men in fatigues, she’d been shaken up, terrified. Now she seemed a bit more at ease.
Although Dan missed the station wagon, Ken had been right—the SUV was more secure than what they’d been driving before. If nothing else, it was higher off the ground, leaving them less vulnerable to the creature’s attacks.
Dan’s gaze flitted to the rearview mirror, taking stock of the items they’d packed. Before parting ways with Ken and Roberta, they’d split up the weapons and food, as well as several gas cans that they’d found in the back of the vehicle.
With a full tank and almost a direct route to Settler’s Creek on I-40, Dan was hopeful they’d have plenty of supplies to last them, allowing him to concentrate on the journey itself.
Several hours ago, they’d already passed the border into New Mexico. They were making better progress than Dan had hoped.
After leaving Ken and Roberta, Dan had been lucky enough to encounter several patches of uninhibited highway, allowing him to travel at a higher rate of speed. Whenever obstacles sprung up in the highway, he switched back to the desert and engaged the four-wheel-drive.
Quinn had been watching the road intently the entire time. Her gaze flitted between the landscape and the debris on the road.
“Do you remember this drive?” he asked her.
“I think so.”
“The last time we made it you were about six years old.”
“I remember singing along to the radio and counting the cars we passed with Mom. I don’t really remember much else, though.”
Dan smiled at the memory.
“I remember that you asked a lot of questions. You were always very curious. I remember you reading aloud all the road signs to make sure we understood them.”
“Do you think things will ever go back to normal, Dad?”
“I hope so, honey. They may not be the same as before, but I’m sure they’ll be good again. Just in a different way.”
Quinn nodded and let her eyes drift back out the window. At the moment they were driving on the desert, but having passed by a few broken-down cars, Dan was getting ready to switch back to the highway.
Before he could make the switch, his daughter pointed past him.
“Dad, look!”
He followed her outstretched hand to the interstate. On the horizon were several figures crouched in the road. Unlike many of the corpses they’d seen on the way, these bodies were moving. Dan slowed the vehicle, instinctively preparing for the worst. He let one hand off the wheel and felt for the Glock 9mm on his lap.
Instead of driving back onto the highway, he kept to the desert, veering as close as possible to the edge without getting onto it. The figures grew more distinct as they approached; soon they were driving next to them.
There were two people on the road, and both were crawling on hands and knees, heads bent. On closer inspection, Dan saw that they weren’t survivors, but two of the creatures. The things craned their necks at the approaching vehicle but neither made any attempt to stand.
Convinced they were in no immediate danger, he slowed the vehicle to a halt to study them closer.
“I don’t like this, Dad. Can we keep going?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I just want to get a closer look. Something about them seems…different.”
The creature closest to the vehicle had once been a woman. Her long, stringy hair fell in front of her face, but he could see the whites of her eyes as they wandered from the SUV to the road. Without warning, the woman-creature collapsed on the ground, convulsing.
“Are they dying?”
Dan paused.
“It certainly looks like it.”
The creature next to her—once an older man with a pointed chin and white and gray stubble—threw a pale arm in their direction and then fell sideways to join his companion.
A few days prior, one of the agents they’d encountered had indicated that the virus was to last a few weeks. By the looks of it, things were coming to an end much sooner. The thought filled Dan with mixed emotions: on one hand he felt a wave of hope, on the other a hint of sadness for the victims.
He fixed his gaze on the two writhing creatures on the ground. Since collapsing, neither had regained their footing. Their cries filled the air—soft, high-pitched moans that wafted over the highway and into the desert beyond.
For a split second, he wondered if they could feel pain. He certainly hoped not.
“We better get moving,” he said.
He let his foot off the brake and continued driving, eyes focused on the road ahead.
By the time they reached the Texas border it was mid-afternoon. In the hours preceding, they’d seen several more creatures on the highway, all in the same condition. They’d seen no signs of any additional survivors.
For the most part, Dan had been able to keep to the breakdown lane, riding adjacent to the littered cars and motorcycles. Now, as they approached the New Mexico-Texas border, the lanes were clogged solid.
Dan brought the SUV to a halt and surveyed the scene. The interstate was a wall of cars. Were it not for the desert around them, Dan could have easily mistaken the highway for a city street in the middle of rush hour.
Vehicles were wedged and sandwiched in every direction, motorcycles and RV’s all fighting for the same spot in the road. Beyond them was a silent blockade of military vehicles.
It was the first glimmer of government intervention he’d seen.
The sight of the camouflaged vehicles gave Dan a sudden chill, though he didn’t know why. In the past, the greens and blacks would have represented a sense of order and stability. Now, they were a sordid reminder that the government had failed.
He let his gaze drift from one side of the highway to the other. In the middle of the road was a median; overhead was a bridge. In neither direction did he see an indication that someone was alive.
He threw the SUV into park.
“What are you doing, Dad?”
“It looks like nobody’s home. But there’s a possibility we can reach someone from one of the military vehicles.”
“Do you think someone will be able to help us?”
“It’s a possibility.”
Dan looked back and forth between the road and daughter. The distance between the SUV and the military blockade was a few hundred feet. He expected her face to be lined with worry, but instead she met his eyes with resolve.
“Go, Dad. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. He handed her the 9mm from his lap.
“I’ll keep you in my line of sight at all times. If you see something and I don’t, honk the horn.”
“Got it.”
He smiled and patted her head, then dipped into the back seat for another weapon. Pistol in hand, he stepped out onto the open highway.
He shut the door and scoured the a
rea.
In order to proceed, they’d need to drive off the road. The desert landscape was getting more and more difficult to navigate—a new crop of green shrubs and bushes had appeared at the road’s edge. Although they hadn’t had any issues yet, he hoped they didn’t pop a tire.
He glared at the five military Humvees that were parked behind a row of barracks.
I wish we could take one of those.
But getting them out would be impossible. Each was flanked on all sides by pedestrian vehicles. There would be no way to get them free.
He let his gaze drift up and down the road. He could only imagine the panic that must have inspired the scene. All around him were bodies—both on the road and in the cars—and most were days old.
As he walked up the interstate, he came across a few bodies that looked like the infected.
Like the rest, these were lifeless and still, but these were fresh.
Is it over?
He shook his head at the scene and kept moving. After all they’d been through, it was hard to believe that it might come to an end. The last week had seemed like a never-ending battle, a war that held no victors.
He closed in on one of the Humvees. The door was ajar; a dead soldier in army gear was hanging out of the driver’s seat. Dan worked his way to the passenger’s side of the vehicle, then he opened the door and got inside. He rifled through the interior, finding a few rations and some papers. None of the paperwork made any sense.
He was reaching for the glove box when he heard a hissing noise that resembled static. It was coming from the dead solider in the driver’s seat. He followed the noise until he found the source—a handheld radio by the man’s feet.
He picked it up and held down the button.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
He let go of the button, but the fuzz persisted.
“Hello?”
He twisted several knobs and tried again, but there was no response.
Dammit.
He set the radio on the seat and wrenched open the glove box, but found nothing. Discouraged, he slid out of the vehicle. His boots had just hit the asphalt when he heard a voice answer him on the radio.
“Johnson?”
Contamination (Book 4): Escape Page 15