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

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  Regardless of its origins, it might provide cover. Desperate, he fell to his knees and crawled inside.

  The men were several hundred feet behind him. He scooted into hiding, hoping they hadn’t seen him. A minute later, the footsteps ceased.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “I don’t see him.”

  “Split up. We’ll find him.”

  Noah held his breath, peering out between the sticks. He could see the figures of the two men in the distance. One skirted behind a cluster of trees and out of sight. The other headed toward him.

  Noah gripped the tree branch in his hands, sweat dripping from his brow. The adrenaline of the chase had prevented him from getting a good look at his attackers. Now he found himself wishing he could look away.

  The man coming in his direction was wearing a button-up flannel shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. His shaggy hair stuck out in clumps, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. His jaw was set, his teeth clenched together. His rifle swayed from left to right as he scanned the forest.

  Noah remained still. Because of the limited space, he’d been forced into a crouch; branches jutted just above his head. He glanced behind him. There was an opening on the other side of the shelter. At any moment, the man would spot him and he’d be forced to run through it.

  Noah’s purple polo shirt might as well be a homing beacon in the forest. Once he was out in the open, there’d be no disguising his presence.

  The man was fifty feet away and closing. Forty. Noah inched backward on hands and knees, ready to run.

  He scoured the forest, searching for the second man, but he was nowhere in sight.

  The homemade shelter butted against a thick oak. Noah crept backward through the opening, slipping behind the nearby trunk. His pursuer stopped a few feet away. His gaze settled on Noah’s former hiding place.

  Had Noah been found?

  For a second, Noah was convinced the man could see him, that he was waiting him out. Each passing second was part of the man’s sick game, a quest to prolong the kill.

  But Noah couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t give up on his family.

  Not now. Not ever.

  Noah leapt out from behind the oak. The man stepped back in surprise, his mouth hanging open. Before the man could react, Noah gored him in the neck with his stick. He twisted the jagged branch into the man’s throat, embedding it deeper into his flesh. The man clutched his neck in agony, blood spurting from the newly opened wound. His rifle clattered to the ground. Noah let go of the branch and stepped back.

  His eyes grew wide as he surveyed what he had done. But there was no time to second-guess his actions.

  He scooped up the weapon, spinning to face the forest. The second man was already in view, closing ground.

  “You son of a bitch!” the man yelled.

  Noah fired the rifle through the trees, but his shot went wide. He had no idea how many bullets were left. He barely knew how to aim.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!” he screamed.

  He fired again, watching the man take cover behind a nearby tree. The man he’d stabbed gurgled and writhed on the ground. Noah kept his gun trained on the forest in front of him, slowly backing away from the scene.

  His entire body was shaking; the rifle felt like lead in his hands.

  There was a large tree to his right. He moved toward it, watching for signs of the second attacker. He’d almost made it when the man appeared. Noah fired again. The weapon bucked in his hands; this time, the man screamed.

  Had he hit him? Was it over? Noah wasn’t waiting to find out.

  Trembling, he fled through the forest.

  4

  Tommy advanced through the diner.

  Caddy stumbled over a spilled ketchup bottle, dropping her bag of provisions. Apples and oranges and cans rolled across the tile. She cried out as her hip banged against one of the stools, and she struggled to maintain her balance.

  Dammit.

  It was too late. The food she’d scavenged was gone. Caddy skirted toward the end of the counter, dodging a host of debris. She’d almost made it when a hand latched onto the back of her shirt.

  She ripped free and swung around to face her attacker.

  Tommy was almost on top of her. His eyes—formerly deep and blue—were now an inky shade of black. It’d been years since she’d spoken to him, but she’d seen him working at his father’s hardware store. She tried to remember the last conversation they’d had, but drew a blank.

  Did it even matter anymore?

  Caddy withdrew her knife. Tommy pawed the air, testing the waters. Caddy inched backward, trying to gauge the distance behind her. If she made a break for the counter, he’d catch her.

  She couldn’t risk it. She had to stand and fight.

  She studied the man—creature—in front of her. Tommy was over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds. There was no way she could knock him off-balance. She could come at him with the knife, but if she missed…

  The creature swung.

  His arm came within inches of her, and Caddy barely ducked the blow. She stumbled backward, fumbling with the tops of the barstools. Tommy was off-balance. Go. Go.

  Caddy fled deeper into the diner. Glass and food crunched under her shoes. She leapt over a carcass on the floor. In no time she’d maneuvered around the counter, heading for the open door that led to the back room.

  The place where she’d left her boss’s body.

  But there was no time to think about that now. Caddy could only run. Run and hide and try to stay alive.

  She whipped through the doorway, Tommy right behind her, and tried to slam it shut. The wood crashed into his bulky frame, splintering and cracking under his weight.

  So much for keeping him out.

  The back room was a mess of shelves and condiments, most of which she’d knocked over during her last shift. Underneath one of them was the body of Darlene Tanner, the head waitress. The woman’s body had started to decompose, filling the air with the fetid odor of her flesh. Caddy’s eyes watered at the sight and smell.

  The rear door was twenty feet away. To Caddy’s dismay, it was closed.

  Even if she were to make a break for it, she’d have to contend with shelves and debris. There was no time. She pedaled backward, watching her attacker.

  Tommy sprang. This time, there was no dodging him.

  The young man crashed into her, taking her to the floor. His breath hit her like a tidal wave—a mix of salt and sand and sewage. His teeth clicked and clacked, his hands burrowed into her clothing. She clung to her knife, fighting for leverage, using both hands and feet to ward him off.

  She’d been in a similar position with him in high school—on the night they’d shared conversation and a kiss—but back then, the situation had been different. At the time she’d been enamored with the high school track star. He’d been a senior and she’d been a junior; he’d been popular, while she’d barely been noticed. They’d been flirting for weeks in class, and after several awkward conversations, he’d invited her to watch his practice.

  They’d been sitting on the bleachers at Chester High when it happened. Caddy had spent the last few hours cheering from the sidelines while Tommy had stolen glances at her from the field. By the time they’d sat together on the stands, shortly after everyone else had gone home, there was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kiss her.

  The attention had made her feel special and wanted, the opposite of the way she’d felt for most of her life.

  The opposite of the way she felt now.

  Tommy’s body stank of garbage, and his weight was like an anvil threatening to crush her. Caddy bucked and writhed, doing everything in her power to break free.

  “Get off me!” she shouted.

  If Tommy understood her, he made no effort to comply.

  With both of her arms pinned, she was helpless. Tommy leaned closer, mouth inches from her face, preparing to bite.

  Come on,
Caddy!

  She pushed with all her strength.

  Mercifully, her right arm—the one that held the knife—slid free, and she reared back and jabbed it into Tommy’s ribcage. The creature wheezed and thrashed on top of her.

  Caddy continued to stab him. Once. Twice. Three times. With each blow, his grip weakened. Finally, she slid out from beneath him.

  Tommy remained on the ground, fluid leaking from his wounds, but he showed no signs of pain. After a few seconds, he clambered to his knees, hissing and spitting, repositioning for attack.

  Caddy couldn’t allow that. With a feral cry—one she hardly recognized as her own—she leapt up and plunged the blade into the top of his skull.

  Tommy Prentiss faltered, then sank to the floor.

  He hadn’t been that great a kisser, anyway.

  5

  Noah ran through the forest for what felt like miles. The punishing rays of the sun made him feel light-headed; his legs felt like dumbbells. His throat was parched and sore. He needed water. He needed rest. But he couldn’t allow himself to stop.

  Not until he was certain he was safe.

  The forest was a multitude of hiding places, and any one of them could be fortressing the men. He hadn’t heard them for miles, but he wasn’t convinced he was in the clear.

  He’d killed two of them. That meant others would be coming.

  He was sure of it.

  Tears streaked his face as he relived what had just occurred. The memory of the man’s impaled neck was imprinted on his brain. He’d already added it to his collection of memories: an image of bloodshed and savagery stockpiled for eternal playback.

  The images shuffled like flashcards.

  Overhead, the caw of a bird startled him, and he aimed the rifle at the sky. Calm down, Noah. It took several minutes for his heart rate to settle. He wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath.

  It wasn’t just the men he was afraid of. It was also the infected.

  It’d been half a day since he’d seen one of the creatures, and he was long overdue. At any moment, he expected one of them to pop out and attack him. If he ran into one on foot, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Discharging his weapon would give away his location.

  If he fired, the men would find him.

  He continued through the forest. Each passing minute felt like an hour. After walking for miles, he heard the distant sound of an engine. His heart thundered. Had his pursuers circled around on some unseen road, intending to flush him out?

  He halted.

  The engine increased in volume. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. He peered through the forest until he could make out an object through the trees. He saw a blurred shape—an outline of doors and tires—and his body went rigid.

  To his surprise, the vehicle wasn’t the Ford pickup that had chased him, but a vehicle painted black and green.

  Camouflage. Was it an army truck?

  Noah’s legs wobbled, and he clung to the bark of the nearest tree to keep his balance. If it was indeed an army vehicle, he needed to get to the road. Perhaps the men inside could assist him. At the very least, they could bring him somewhere safe.

  He forced himself onward. The vehicle was out of sight, but he could hear the roar of others.

  Hurry!

  He weaved through the underbrush, doing his best to follow the clearest path. Several times he tripped, but each time he caught himself and managed to keep upright. The trees slipped by like silent sentinels.

  He was almost to the road. He could see pavement through the trees, the yellow lines that marked the street’s center.

  “Over here! Help!” he shouted.

  He emerged from the forest, heart brimming with hope. Over the past few days, he’d seen his best friend die, his former comrades wounded, and a slew of people infected or killed. Through it all, he’d held out hope of rescue, even though it had seemed futile.

  And now here it was right in front of him. All he needed to do was get to it.

  He ran up the road, his shoes slapping the pavement. His lungs heaved, his vision blurred. Even if the men were behind him, the presence of the military would stave them off. Right?

  They wouldn’t gun him down in the open. Would they?

  He continued up the road until he’d run several hundred feet from where he emerged. His head was still throbbing.

  It took him a few more seconds to realize the noises had faded. If there had been more vehicles, they’d already passed. He looked in all directions, but the road was desolate.

  Had he been seeing things?

  He didn’t think so, but the longer he waited, the deeper his doubt became.

  For several minutes he stared up the road, waiting for the vehicles to return. But there were no more noises and nothing in sight.

  The prospect of rescue, if it had ever been there at all, was gone.

  6

  Caddy waded through the tall grass, watching the center of Chester fade in the distance. In front of her was a thick section of forest. She made her way toward it, her canvas bag looped over one shoulder, the knife in her hand.

  Her pulse was still pounding from her encounter with Tommy, and she couldn’t get the image of Darlene out of her head. She’d killed them. She’d killed them both.

  The worst part was, they hadn’t been the only ones. In just a few short days she’d been forced to do things she’d never dreamed of, things she’d do anything to forget. And yet, she’d had to do those things to survive. If Caddy hadn’t reacted the way she had, she and her mother would both be dead.

  She tried to convince herself of these things as she raced through the knee-high grass, the blades whipping against her pant legs. It was times like these that made her feel like she was dreaming, that she’d wake up in the morning with a clear head and a clean conscience.

  Each new day was a grim reminder that her actions were real.

  Caddy pressed on. To her right she could make out the asphalt of the road. The sight of it filled her with sadness.

  If she’d been alone, Caddy would have taken the two-lane street, letting it lead her away from the town and its memories.

  Growing up, she’d buried her nose in travel books and catalogs, taking in the sights and scenery, planning the day she’d make her exit from Chester. Despite all her dreaming and planning, she’d never been able to make her hopes a reality.

  When she was fourteen, her mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

  According to the doctors, the disease was genetic. Caddy’s great aunt had had it as well. Her mother’s signs had been subtle at first—a forgotten word here or there, an occasional moment of disorientation.

  After Caddy had expressed her concern, her mother had agreed to go to the doctor. It had taken several weeks of testing to determine the problem.

  The diagnosis had devastated them both.

  In the beginning, things hadn’t changed. Caddy had continued to go to school; her mother had continued to go to work. A year later, her mother’s symptoms had gotten worse. She remembered one incident in particular.

  They’d been eating dinner, discussing the events of the day, when her mother had stopped mid-bite to stare at her.

  “What day is it?” she’d asked.

  Caddy had studied her mother for a minute before answering. They’d just spoken about what they’d do on Sunday. And now her mother was looking at her with a blank expression. Caddy had gently reminded her of the day.

  Her mother had responded by slamming down her fork.

  According to the doctor, the disease could be accompanied by changes in mood and personality. Caddy’s greatest fear was that her mother wouldn’t be her mother anymore. Caddy had excused herself from the table, and then had spent the next half hour in her bedroom, crying silently so her mother wouldn’t hear.

  Over the next few years, her mother’s condition had worsened. Her mother had been forced to leave her job, and Caddy had been forced to pick up extra hours
at work to pitch in. In addition to going to school, she’d taken over the majority of the bills, watching her mother’s savings slowly diminish. Because the disease had struck her mother at a young age, state resources were limited.

  Caddy dreaded the day they’d need to hire a caregiver.

  As a result, the last four years had been a blur of work and school. Due to her mother’s condition, Caddy had spent most of her free time working. Her social life had been nonexistent. The only time she’d gotten out was to take a jog in the evenings, and only after her mother was situated.

  Come to think of it, her single kiss with Tommy Prentiss had been one of the highlights of her teenage years, but that wasn’t saying much.

  For the past eighteen years, Caddy had dreamed of the day when she could get out of Chester. And now, with the world in shambles, she couldn’t see it ever happening.

  Four days ago, all of the townsfolk had been transformed into raving lunatics, infected by a virus she couldn’t comprehend. Almost instantaneously, communication with the outside world had been lost.

  Frightened and alone, Caddy had managed to reach her house in time, securing the property as best she could. On the way home, she’d managed to lift a handgun from a fallen resident. When she’d reached her mother, the woman had been terrified and confused.

  Explaining the situation had been difficult, and keeping her mother calm and quiet had become a full-time job.

  With her mother in the condition she was in, Caddy couldn’t risk fleeing town.

  In the beginning, she’d taken small trips out of the neighborhood, doing her best to locate a working phone. But her efforts had been in vain. There’d been no sign of help and no means of assistance.

  And so Caddy survived and waited, hoping rescue was on the horizon. At the same time, she didn’t let her hopes get too high. For most of her life, Caddy had lived under the weight of unfairness and disappointment, and she was hesitant to get her hopes up now. The only thing she asked was that she and her mother live out their days together.

  If this was the end, there was no one she’d rather spend it with.