Contamination (Books 0-3)

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “Shit!” Sam yelled.

  The RV engine roared, and Sam saw the driver grip the wheel. It would take a minute for the RV to get moving, but the man’s intentions were clear. They needed to get out of the van.

  “Everybody out—now! He’s going to ram us again!”

  29

  DELTA WATCHED THE RV BEHIND them with increasing nervousness, trying to calculate their next move. She stared at the man with the beard who was holding the shotgun, and wondered if it was the last face she would see.

  The RV driver revved the gas. He was going to push the van off the cliff.

  Her eyes felt like they were going to implode, and she felt a blinding pain from behind them. She fought to keep her anxiety from taking over. She needed to think clearly.

  “Get out now!” Sam yelled again, this time in her direction.

  The storeowner was motioning for her to move. She reached for the door handle, blinded by the lights of the RV behind them. The glare lit up the side of the van, casting a white glow over her companions. She raised her arm to deflect the light. Her body began to shake as she looked into the backseat.

  Kendall sat next to Sam, breathing heavily. His eyes had turned black, his pale skin now a mottled gray. His lips curved upward, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. He had been contaminated.

  “Sam, watch out!” she yelled.

  Kendall lunged toward the storeowner, digging deep into the man’s arm with his fingernails. Sam shrieked in agony, and blood spurted into the air, spraying Delta’s face in the backdraft. She tasted copper in her mouth, mixed with the bitter taste of adrenaline that already resided there.

  The empty rifle sat between her legs. She moved one arm, then the other, trying to break through the mental gridlock. She needed to react. If she didn’t, the storeowner would die. She could feel her heart beating furiously. The gun was in her hands now, and Delta turned it sideways.

  With a scream, she leapt into the fray.

  She swung the rifle, connecting with Kendall’s tattooed shoulder. At the same time, Sam threw his elbow into the kid’s stomach, propelling the attacker sideways, and then reached for the door handle. The storeowner opened the door and toppled out into the darkness.

  Delta was on top of Kendall now. The kid began to claw at her, and she felt pain ripple through her forearms. A voice cried out from behind her.

  “Get out the door—quick!”

  It was Noah, and he was reaching towards her from the front seat. She felt his arms enter the entanglement of limbs, trying to pull her free.

  Underneath her, Kendall hissed and squirmed, raking his nails across her stomach. Her tank top was drenched, and she wondered briefly if she was being disemboweled.

  She heard a loud crash, and felt the van sway to the side. The RV had collided with them. Its headlights lit up the backseats, momentarily blinding her. She squinted, and her eyes refocused.

  She thrust the gun barrel forward into Kendall’s teeth, and felt several of them crack against the rifle’s metal casing. Suddenly, she was free, and she rolled sideways on the seat towards the exit.

  Noah leapt into the back on top of his roommate. He raised his arms high above his head, holding what looked like a razor. As Delta dove for the open door, she saw Noah plunge the weapon deep into his friend’s neck.

  30

  NOAH SCREAMED IN HORROR AS he realized what he had done.

  Blood sprayed onto the seats, and Kendall yelled in agony. The RV’s engine screamed from his left, and was now kicking up debris as it attempted to push the vehicle off the cliff. Noah could smell the exhaust billowing from its tailpipe, and he began to cough.

  Kendall’s arms flailed uncontrollably as he tried to wrench the shiv free from his neck. His face had contorted into something less than human. If there was any trace left of the Kendall that Noah had known, it was now consumed by darkness.

  Noah held his hands in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the RV’s headlights. The bearded man stared out at him with wild eyes. He was holding up his shotgun, as if to indicate there was no escape.

  In the distance, Noah could make out the silhouettes of Sam and the girl. They had crawled about twenty feet away, out of the RV’s path. The girl was yelling for him to jump out. Noah braced himself between the two front seats, struggling to stand as the vehicle shook around him.

  Kendall was coming towards him now. Noah looked out the open passenger side door, where only a few feet separated the van from the edge of the cliff. He needed to move.

  Noah stepped over the passenger seat. He felt his feet slide out from underneath him and he fell out of the van and into the dirt. Knees stinging, he crawled on his stomach between the van and the cliff, wondering if he would make it clear in time.

  31

  SAM LAY FACEDOWN IN THE dirt, twenty feet from the van. He had crawled as far as he was able to before collapsing. His face hugged the ground, his mouth tasting a mixture of sand and stone, and pain shot through his left arm. He felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

  The girl was trying to help him up. Her thin arms flexed as she pulled at his armpits, but Sam flopped back to the ground.

  He heard her shriek towards the van, and looked up in time to see two vehicles topple over the edge of the cliff.

  “No!”

  She collapsed to the ground, her eyes welling up with tears.

  The van descended first, followed by the trailer, and then the RV. The trailer hitch bent almost in half, threatening to snap, and then went into a free fall. The RV followed from the rear.

  A pair of red brake lights flashed suddenly from the back of the RV. Perhaps the bearded man had realized his error at the last second. The red glow persisted, even as the mangled conglomeration toppled into the darkness and out of sight.

  Sam felt his eyes flutter and close. He was still conscious for a few seconds, but not long enough to hear the explosion that rocked the mountains below.

  He awoke to the sound of birds.

  He opened his eyes slowly. His arm was throbbing, but he was alive. A piece of clothing was bound taut against his forearm, and he realized someone had fashioned a makeshift sling.

  “Thank God,” the girl said from beside him. “I was sure you weren’t going to wake up.”

  Sam sat upright, bracing himself on the ground with his good arm. His head was spinning.

  “I think it’s just a superficial wound, but we’ll need to get it tended to as soon as possible,” she said.

  He gazed off in the direction of the cliff, which was now illuminated by the morning sun. Aside from tire marks in the road, there was no evidence of the two vehicles. The air still held the faint odor of rubber and metal.

  “Noah, Kendall, the RV—“ he started.

  Delta opened her mouth, but was unable to speak. Her eyes welled up, and she looked off into the distance.

  “Do we need to check?”

  “I already have,” someone called out from behind them. Sam turned.

  It was Noah. His face was streaked with tears, and he held his glasses in the air, inspecting one of the cracked lenses.

  Sam nodded and took to his feet. He felt sick to his stomach. He had only known Kendall for a short time, but he felt awful for the kid. Nobody deserved to die like that.

  “I’m sorry, Noah,” he said. He knew words wouldn’t suffice for what his companion was feeling.

  Sam looked down at his arm. It appeared that the homemade wrap had stopped the bleeding. His legs felt stiff, as if atrophy had already begun to set in. He flexed his calves to renew the circulation.

  The roar of motors had been replaced by the sounds of nature. Trees rustled in the breeze, and chirps and chatters sprung from unseen animals. The road ahead curved upwards, promising a difficult journey.

  He wondered if they should stop and say a prayer for their fallen companion. It seemed like the right thing to do.

  Sam made his way to the edge of the cliff. The others followed. He opened
his mouth to speak, but no words came out. They stared in silence over the horizon for several minutes. The storeowner finally turned around.

  “Which way?” the girl asked.

  “Well, I think we both know what’s back there.” Sam motioned back from where they had come. She nodded. The three continued into the mountains—this time on foot.

  They walked for several hours without seeing a hint of civilization. Despite the circumstances, the scenery was breathtaking. Mountain ranges capped the skyline, stretching as far as the eye could see. Birds soared overhead, keeping a passive watch on the travelers. The three kept to the far edge of the road, avoiding the treacherous plunge that seemed to accompany each turn.

  Sam’s arm was sore, but he had been able to keep up the pace. He had lost some blood, for sure, but not enough to sap all his strength. In any case, he was grateful to have survived.

  When the next sign finally appeared, it seemed out of place in the otherwise untouched landscape. Pockets of brush had grown over its face, and the print was barely legible.

  St. Matthews—2 Miles.

  Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He motioned toward a large, flat rock on the side of the road.

  “Can we stop here for a minute?” He grimaced. He needed a rest.

  “Sure,” the girl said.

  She held his good arm and eased him into a sitting position, then took a spot next to him. Noah drifted to the edge of the road, staring at something in the distance. He had barely spoken a word since the accident.

  The girl looked at him, her blue eyes still wet with tears. She held her knees to her chest, but didn’t speak. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, the storeowner spoke.

  “I know who you are,” Sam said.

  She nodded, but didn’t act surprised.

  Her hands went to her pocket, and she pulled out a folded envelope, handing it to him. The sealant had smeared down the side, as if she had been holding on to it for a long time. Sam slipped his fingers inside and pulled out a newspaper clipping stuck to the bottom. He unfolded it and smoothed out the creases.

  It was David Monroe’s obituary.

  “It’s over,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family.”

  Sam’s pressed his face against his knees.

  For the first time in two years, the storeowner wept.

  The road began to curve downward. Sam welcomed the change, which made it easier for him to walk in his weakened condition. Noah and the girl held him up on either side, ensuring he kept his balance.

  The storeowner looked up into the sky. The sun climbed higher, breaking through the trees and enveloping his face in warmth. It was the same reception he would have received in White Mist as he set about his morning routines at the store. Like most days, he would have been alone, struggling to keep thoughts of his family at bay. Now, Sam found himself welcoming the new day with renewed vigor.

  It signified he was still alive. And for the moment, that was all he could ask for.

  BOOK TWO: CROSSROADS

  In Loving Memory CSM 1949—2013

  You will be missed…

  PART ONE – DIRECTION LOST

  1

  Edge of Town

  St. Matthews, Arizona.

  DELTA WAS THE FIRST TO hear the noise. At least, she thought she was. She looked around the room at her companions, but they continued rifling through the contents of the gas station, seemingly unaware of the disturbance. She approached the front window for a closer look. The glass had been shattered inwards, and the remnants of the windowpane crunched beneath her feet.

  She heard someone laugh behind her, and she turned.

  “Anyone want to go shopping?” Noah smiled grimly, holding up a fistful of cash from the open register. He let the bills filter through his fingers and onto the floor. It was the first time he had spoken in hours.

  Delta resumed her stare out the front window. The gas pumps were empty. The garbage barrels next to them had been tipped over, their contents strewn across the lot. One of the hoses had been disconnected, and it coiled in loops across the cement. Sam came up beside her. She noticed he was holding a hunting knife—he must have found it amongst the rubble. He turned the handle in his palms.

  “Everything ok?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” she said, still unsure. “I thought I heard something, but maybe it was just my imagination.”

  She had been traveling with Sam—a storeowner from White Mist, New Mexico— and Noah for just over a day. Noah had been heading home from Albuquerque to Vegas, but hadn’t quite made it.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued to peruse the floor. Dried goods and supplies were scattered everywhere; some torn open. She eyed an untouched loaf of bread, wondering if it would be worth the effort to open it. A puddle of blood stained the floor next to it, and she felt her stomach turn. She wasn’t the least bit hungry.

  Delta wondered if the last visitors to the gas station had made it out alive. Aside from the red stains, there were no bodies. At least, none they had found yet. In spite of the warm temperature of the desert morning, she began to shiver.

  “We should get moving soon,” Sam warned. “This place has been pretty picked over.”

  A noise outside drew her attention again. This time she was able to identify the source. It sounded like a car engine, and it was getting closer. She tensed up.

  “Noah—get down!” Sam called across the store.

  Noah dropped to his knees. His eyes were wide behind his glasses. He moved in a half-crawl to join the others, avoiding shards of glass and debris.

  Delta and Sam huddled next to the broken windowpane, peering out into the parking lot. The sky had taken on a gray tinge. Massive clouds rolled in from over the mountains, plugging up the sunshine that had greeted them earlier that morning. A few birds circled overhead, but their chirping had been drowned out by the sound of the car motor.

  A wooden fence bordered the right edge of the lot; beyond it was an embankment covered in yellow grass. The road lay off to the left, after which was miles of brown desert. The noise was coming from the opposite side of the gas station. Whoever was driving must be coming from town.

  Within seconds, a green sedan sputtered into the parking lot. The passenger’s side had been caved in, the quarter panel pushed into the front tire. The bumper hung to one side, threatening to fall off, and it dragged across the pavement with a sickening scrape. Delta was surprised the car was still drivable. The vehicle rolled in between two of the pumps and then stopped. Its brake lights cast a red glow behind it.

  Delta hunkered down further. Noah crouched next to her, chewing the ends of his fingernails.

  The driver put the vehicle into park, and Delta heard the engine level out. A puff of exhaust billowed out from the tailpipe, wafting into the air and then dispersing. The person inside remained still. Delta strained to see inside, but could only make out a shadow.

  After a few seconds, the brake lights shut off, and the car door opened halfway. A leg swung out of the vehicle, as if to test the waters, and then a face poked out from the doorframe. The driver was a young man, his eyes frantic and bloodshot. He stared in their direction, but it was unclear whether he had spotted them.

  Delta leaned forward to get a better look. The young man appeared to be no more than twenty years old. His head was covered in a mop of brown hair, and his jeans were ripped at the knees. He gazed toward the store for a few seconds, and then ducked back inside the car and slammed the door.

  “Should we go out there?” she whispered to Sam.

  Sam shook his head and signaled for her to wait. His other arm was drawn to his chest. In his hand he clutched the hunting knife, his knuckles white.

  The sedan’s brake lights flickered on again and the tires began to spin. Suddenly, the tires screeched and the vehicle shot forward, weaving between the pumps and careening out of the parking lot. In seconds it was traveling up the road, heading toward the mountains.

>   Wrong way, Delta thought.

  Sam stood, relaxing his grip on the knife.

  “We should have warned him,” she said.

  “I’m guessing he already knows.”

  The three watched the car climb upwards in the distance, ascending the narrow mountain road. Delta could still feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. She stretched her knees, stiff from her position on the floor, and began to stand. The vehicle took a sharp turn around a distant bend.

  “Things must be just as bad in town,” Sam said.

  “I’m sure it can’t be any worse than where we’ve come from.”

  Delta did her best to stay positive, but felt her anxiety deepen.

  A screeching in the distance drew their attention once more. The sedan had rounded another curve in the road and was once again visible. Its brake lights shone behind it, and it had come to a stop. Two white SUVs now blocked the road in front of it.

  “What the hell?” Sam muttered.

  Four men in white suits emerged from the vehicles. From Delta’s view, they were little more than specks on the horizon, their features indiscernible.

  The men in white pointed toward the sedan; she heard the faint sound of voices, as if they were arguing with the driver. Her pulse quickened. She saw the sedan’s taillights flash as if the young man was trying to throw it into gear.

  He’s trying to escape, she thought.

  Before the young driver could react, one of the men in white pulled out a long black object from the back of the SUV. It looked like an automatic rifle. Delta clasped her hands against her face.

  “Oh no…”

  The others ripped open the sedan door and dragged the young man out from inside. He began to scream, holding his hands in front of his face.

  The one with the gun fired.

  Rata-tata-tata.