Contamination 5: Survival (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series)

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  ABOUT CONTAMINATION 5: SURVIVAL

  Ever since leaving the salvage yard, Noah Chambers has been plagued by the infected and hunted by the men who patrol the streets. In order to survive, he’ll need to summon strength he never imagined.

  In a world gone mad, no one is safe…

  Want to know when the next release is coming out? Sign up for NEW RELEASE ALERTS at: http://eepurl.com/qy_SH

  Or check out: http://www.twpiperbrook.com

  ALSO AVAILABLE:

  CONTAMINATION PREQUEL – FREE!

  CONTAMINATION 1: THE ONSET

  CONTAMINATION 2: CROSSROADS

  CONTAMINATION 3: WASTELAND

  CONTAMINATION 4: ESCAPE

  CONTAMINATION

  Book Five: Survival

  By T.W. Piperbrook

  To Ricky,

  my best friend and writing companion.

  You will be missed.

  RIP 2003 - 2014

  PART ONE – HUNTED

  1

  “Over here!”

  The men were coming. Through the haze, Noah could hear the rumble of motors and the cry of voices. He struggled to open his eyes, but they were swollen shut. His face burned with pain.

  After a few attempts, he cracked his eyelids. The rays of the midday sun pierced his retinas, and he squinted to reduce the glare. The fact that he was alive was either a miracle or a curse; at the moment, he couldn’t decide which. He wiggled his fingers and toes. As far as he could tell, nothing was broken.

  But that didn’t make him feel any better.

  He lifted his head, biting back a fresh swell of pain. He was lying in the forest, about fifty feet from the road. Around him was a legion of pines. Just minutes ago, he’d been thrashing through the underbrush, hoping to find respite in the depths of the forest. After expending his last bit of energy, he’d dropped to the ground behind one of the large, sap-covered trunks.

  Now he lay exhausted, listening to his pursuers approach.

  He patted his pockets, hoping to find something he’d missed, but his ripped khaki shorts were empty. His only hope was to summon enough strength to continue.

  If he didn’t move, he’d die.

  He thought of his family in Portland and clenched his teeth. For the past few days, the image of Mom, Dad, and Ricky had been the only thing keeping him going. Now he found himself wondering if he’d ever see them again.

  Don’t give up now.

  Noah forced himself to his knees, ignoring his aching muscles, and crawled through the thickets. Keep low, and keep moving. He needed to put distance between himself and the road. If the men couldn’t find him, perhaps they’d grow bored and stop looking so closely; maybe they’d even give up.

  The forest floor crackled under the weight of men’s footsteps. The men had stopped talking, but their breathing echoed through the trees behind him. In a matter of minutes, Noah had become their target, their prey. Seconds after seeing him, they’d forced his truck off the road and into a tree.

  If only he’d taken another road…

  For the past few days, he’d been practicing the art of avoidance, doing his best to steer clear of the infected and the survivors. After a few close calls with trigger-happy lunatics, he’d been hesitant to trust anyone. At the same time, he’d known the solitude couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later he’d be forced to fight or flee. As much as he hated to admit it, his current situation was long overdue.

  He should’ve stayed at the salvage yard in Arizona.

  Leaving his former companions behind had been one of the hardest things he’d had to do, and the guilt had eaten at him for days. He could only pray that Sam, Delta, Dan, and Quinn were safe.

  But he needed to find his family. Whether they were alive or dead, he needed to find them. He needed to know.

  He scrambled ahead through the forest, listening to the snap of underbrush behind him, using his pursuers’ movements as cover. When they moved, he moved. When they stopped, he stopped. He darted from tree to tree, using the thick trunks for cover as if he were in the real-life version of a video game.

  His vision was still bleary from losing his glasses. His prescription was weak, but he’d been wearing them regularly for driving, and his eyes struggled to adjust.

  Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Over the course of the day, the sun had grown progressively hotter, and as he ran, it enveloped him like a warm blanket. Aside from his tattered shorts, Noah was wearing only a polo shirt and shoes. He should’ve been comfortable, but instead, he was red and overheated.

  One of the men coughed.

  Noah ducked behind a tree. After a few seconds, he peered behind him. On the road, a few hundred feet away, he could see his pickup truck. All four tires had been flattened; the hood was smoking. One of the men was standing guard next to it.

  His pursuers weren’t letting him get away. If he doubled back, he’d be trapped. His only hope was to head deeper into the woods.

  Hide or move.

  Noah clambered forward. Given that the men had rifles, he was hopelessly outmatched. There was no way he could face them.

  One glimpse of him and they’d shoot.

  He continued on. After several more minutes of running, he realized the men had stopped. He listened closely as their low, muffled voices seeped through the forest. What were they talking about? What were they planning?

  Noah assessed his situation. The forest in front of him was thick with foliage, but there was a clearing in the distance.

  If he could get to it, perhaps he’d find help.

  The area he was in wasn’t exactly brimming with people, but civilization had to exist somewhere. He stared at the distant patch of light, gauging how many steps it would take him to get there.

  Twenty? Twenty-five? How far could he go before he was shot down?

  Staying where he was would mean certain death. He’d rather die on his feet than be mowed down on his knees.

  Behind him, the forest fell into silence.

  He flexed his hands and prepared himself to run.

  This is it, Noah. This is your last chance at escape.

  Gritting his teeth, he broke from the trees and ran.

  2

  Caddy Stevens had been fleeing all her life. The fact that she was doing it now wasn’t a big surprise.

  As she weaved through the streets of Chester, the town she’d called home for most of her life, she realized that not much had changed. The buildings were still old and decrepit, the air still smelled like a landfill, and the streets were filled with garbage.

  The only difference was the hordes of infected trying to kill her.

  Sure, things had been cleaner a few days ago, but not by much. The railing on the library steps was still loose, the abandoned steel mill was still run-down, and the gas stations still sported outdated pumps and inflated prices.

  Yep—the only obvious difference was the people. Now, instead of talking behind backs and whispering in circles, they were coming at her head-on, mouths open and nails extended.

  At least they were forthright for a change.

  Caddy bounded through the alleyway between Thomas and Stanley Streets, vaulting over a fallen garbage can, praying to God she wouldn’t trip and fall. The creature behind her was one of the fastest she’d seen. Even though she’d gotten a head start, the thing was right on her tail, its rancid breath reeking in the mid-afternoon air.

  The thing used to be Tommy Prentiss, the star of the high school track team.

  If there was one thing Caddy had learned, it was that the infec
tion didn’t discriminate.

  Caddy was in decent shape herself. Although she wasn’t a sports fanatic, she’d kept active after graduating high school, jogging several miles each night after work. She’d mostly shied away from the drinking and partying that many of her friends engaged in, preferring the quiet company of a book to a Sunday-morning hangover.

  Up until a few days ago, she’d been a waitress at the town diner, hoping to save enough money to attend community college next fall. Those plans had gone out the window when her boss had tried to take a bite out of her.

  In any case, Caddy was grateful she’d been spared the infection. For whatever reason, she was alive, and so was her mother. Her main goal now was to bring back the food she’d ransacked from the A&P.

  Having cleared the alleyway, Caddy sprinted out into the street. Her breath came in short gasps; her lungs burned. She hoped she’d have enough stamina to outrun her pursuer.

  Caddy would’ve preferred stealth to speed, but Tommy had given her no choice. He’d surprised her in the back aisle of the A&P, teeth bared, and she’d barely gotten out alive.

  And she wasn’t in the clear yet.

  She flew down the block past a cluster of brick buildings, worried that more of the infected would pick up the chase. From what she’d seen, most of the creatures had remained in the area, picking through the remnants of the survivors like pigeons hunting for scraps. If others joined the pursuit, she wasn’t convinced she could outrun them.

  She was having enough trouble with Tommy alone.

  Earlier, she’d been in her mother’s car, but after the infected had surrounded her, Caddy had crashed it into a pole. Now she was alone and on foot. The gun holstered at her side was empty. All she had left was a knife and the bag of groceries she was carrying. She needed more weapons, but now wasn’t the time to search for them.

  She clutched the canvas bag to her chest, doing her best to keep hold of it. If she dropped the food and water, the entire trip would’ve been for nothing. And then what would become of her mother?

  Caddy shuddered at the scenario. She couldn’t think about that. Not now.

  Get home first. Worry later, she told herself.

  At the end of the block, the row of buildings ended, giving way to a desolate two-lane road. Caddy’s house was minutes away, but in order to get there, she’d have to run in the open. The fact that Tommy was chasing her made things difficult.

  She’d have to throw him off. She couldn’t lead him home.

  As if on cue, the footsteps behind her grew louder.

  Tommy was gaining ground.

  She stared at the last building on the road. It was one she recognized. Town Line Diner. In spite of the chaos below, the neon letters remained optimistically intact. It was as if her former workplace were preparing for a stream of customers, oblivious to the fact that the world had ended.

  If she wanted to ward off Tommy Prentiss, going into the diner might be her best shot. At least she knew the layout. Maybe she could throw him off; perhaps she could even trap him inside.

  There was no way she could outrun him. Not much longer, anyway.

  Caddy veered from the sidewalk and ran up the steps of the diner. She yanked at the door, relieved to find it open. If it’d been locked, she would’ve been screwed. She slipped through the entrance just as Tommy bashed into the other side of the glass. His mouth hung open, exposing a row of bloodstained teeth. Several of them had been chipped or broken; his tongue flailed in his mouth.

  And to think I kissed him once. Gross.

  Caddy pulled the door closed, ignoring the pounding of Tommy’s hands. She slipped the lock into place. Her chest heaved as she scanned the restaurant behind her.

  It’d been four days since she’d fled the diner. In the meantime, the bodies had started to decompose, though she still recognized some of the patrons she’d served.

  And somewhere inside was the body of her boss—the woman she’d killed three days earlier. Caddy swallowed and did her best to dispel the thought.

  Bang!

  She spun to find Tommy crashing against the glass, his face contorted with rage. She didn’t have much time. Caddy started along the counter, her shoes sliding on the linoleum. Behind it was the entrance to the back room as well as an exit.

  She’d only gone two steps when the front door caved.

  Tommy had gotten inside.

  3

  Noah looked over his shoulder as he crossed the clearing, certain the men would be right on his tail. Would he hear the gunshot before he felt the bullet, or would the two be simultaneous?

  He’d already been shot once; thankfully, he’d only been nicked. It was a feeling he hoped to never have again. Despite his fears, the forest seemed empty. He saw no sign of his pursuers. Had he lost them? The thought filled him with hope. At the same time, he knew better than to trust his surroundings.

  In a world gone mad, no one was safe.

  Across the clearing was a cluster of shrubs. He navigated toward them, sweat clinging to his forehead. The ground was soft and malleable, a welcome change from the thick crunch of the forest.

  When he reached the thicket, he immersed himself in it, grateful for the cover. The forest was a maze of trunks and trees, and he continued on hands and knees, still weak and wounded. His best bet was to stay low and keep his distance from the street.

  What would his next move be? His truck was out of commission. He could return to it and survey the contents, but he was certain the men had taken everything.

  For all intents and purposes, he was back to square one.

  The pickup had contained all his belongings: his weapons, his clothing, and his uncontaminated food. Without it, he’d been robbed not only of a means of transportation, but a way to survive.

  He needed a weapon.

  He scanned the forest as he crawled, looking for a loose branch or stick. Anything would be better than his bare hands.

  After a few more feet, he encountered a fallen tree. The trunk was rife with branches. He searched for a limb of suitable size—something he could carry—and wrestled it from the bark. The branch broke with a snap. The stick was about three feet long and several inches wide, sporting a jagged end from where he’d ripped it free.

  It was a far cry from the weapons he’d had in the truck, but it’d have to do.

  It’d been several minutes since he’d last heard the men. He stopped to catch his breath, resting against the thick trunk of a tree. He was exhausted. It felt like he’d been running forever, though he knew it’d probably been only a few minutes.

  After a while, the sound of his ragged breathing was drowned out by the sounds of nature. He could hear birds cawing, insects chirping, and the faint rustle of the wind. Out of nowhere, he imagined his body decomposing in the forest, and he felt a shudder run the length of his body.

  If he died, how would his family ever find out what had happened to him?

  The thought filled him with a tremor of emotion. At this point, Portland seemed farther away than ever.

  The past few days had been something out of a nightmare, one he’d hardly had a chance to process. Earlier in the week, he’d rented a van with his best friend, making his way from Albuquerque to Las Vegas. They’d made it two hundred miles before the infection hit.

  And now Kendall was dead. Killed by his hands.

  Noah tried to force the thought from his mind, but it’d already taken hold. He could still see his best friend’s expression as he’d stabbed the shiv into Kendall’s neck; his mouth had been agape, his infected flesh spitting blood like a geyser—

  Stop it.

  Noah clenched his teeth, trying to rid his mind of the image. The only thing he needed to concern himself with was surviving and getting home. Everything else was just noise.

  His brain had too much to bear.

  He staggered to his feet. In the past few seconds, the woods had grown louder. It was as if the creatures of the forest had picked up on the silence, intent on filling
the void. It took him a second to realize that it wasn’t the sound of nature he was hearing, but the sound of men.

  His pursuers had found him.

  Noah plunged through the forest, the crack of rifles echoing around him.

  Bullets pinged off the trees; branches snapped beneath his feet. He could hear the men shouting as they ran, taunting him as they fired.

  There were two voices. He wasn’t sure where the rest had gone, but he didn’t have time to think about it.

  The stick was heavy in his hands. If it weren’t his only weapon, Noah might’ve dropped it. He did his best to gain ground, knowing he was hopelessly outmatched and out of strength.

  His options were few.

  Though the forest was thick, he couldn’t see a place that would provide permanent cover. The men had him in their sights. If he were to duck behind a tree, surely they’d find him.

  A gunshot connected with a nearby oak. One of the men laughed. Were they missing him on purpose? Were they delaying the inevitable? His brain couldn’t process the reason behind their violence. It made no sense. He’d never met these men before; he’d never wronged them. And yet here they were trying to end his life.

  It was as if everything had gone out the window when the infection had taken over.

  He could only guess that the men had been waiting for an event such as this one, ready to capitalize on the chaos and insanity. In just a few short days, Noah had seen a host of unspeakable acts.

  Even now, the images of what he’d seen still haunted him. Worst of all were the things he’d done himself.

  Noah had almost given up hope when he spotted a cluster of sticks and limbs stacked against a tree. It looked like something an animal had built. The foliage was thick and brown, obscuring his view of the inside.