Contamination Prequel (Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) (8 page)

Howard turned away and began to walk towards his cruiser.

“In the car,” he barked at the girl.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the station.”

“Is my dad there?” Her lips trembled.

Howard looked at her, but didn’t answer. His eyes were devoid of emotion.

15

D
an scoured the streets of
St. Matthews, searching for any sign of his missing daughter. From Shunpike Lane, he looped around to Treetop Place, and then to Archibald Avenue. He gripped the steering wheel of the car, hands shaking. He tried to dispel the image of his dead wife on the dining room floor.

Julie was gone.

He felt the salty sting of tears hit his lips, and he wiped his face with his sleeve. But Quinn was still alive. She had to be. He pictured his daughter, out on the streets, perhaps fighting for her life just as he had been moments ago. Where could she have gone?

He wracked his brain, trying to determine Quinn’s thought process. She was a smart kid—probably smarter than most her age. He held out hope that she had been able to find assistance.

But what if the entire town was infected? What help would there be then? And why hadn’t he been stricken with the disease—whatever it was? He looked down at his hands, and then glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. Maybe he was moments away from turning into one of the things himself.

Dan shivered and forced the thought from his mind. Whatever the reason, he was still conscious, still
himself
. At least, he thought he was. And as far as he knew, so were Quinn and Howard.

“Howard!” he shouted. Ever since Julie died, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. The senior office may have located her already.

Dan patted his pocket. His cellphone was still there.
Thank God.
He pulled it out and dialed his senior officer’s number. The call went straight to voicemail.

“C’mon, man!”

He dialed again, but with no luck. He scanned his phone for any messages or voicemails, but none had been received. He tucked the device back in his pocket and then looked back at the road. About a hundred feet ahead, just beyond his headlights, he saw a glimmer of movement.

“What the hell?”

A few shadows darted from left to right, and he wiped his eyes to ensure his vision wasn’t distorted. A yellow sign passed on his right.

Pedestrian Crossing.

25 MPH.

Dan flicked on his high beams, and then held his breath. A swarm of creatures were in the road, arms hanging at their sides, marching toward a figure on the curb. A few were on their knees, ripping into it.
Pulling out the person’s insides,
he thought. He hit the brakes, coming to a stop just fifty feet away. Their heads seemed to turn in unison.

There had to be about twenty of the things.

Dan threw the car into reverse. The creatures were running now, hissing and spitting in an attempt to get to the Outback. He revved the engine, and the car rolled backwards, but not fast enough. One of the creatures tore at the driver’s side mirror, ripping it clean off the vehicle. Another flailed its arms at the hood. Others flanked the passenger’s side, starting to bang on the windows.

Dan shouted at them, swerving the wheel in an attempt to throw them off. He felt the tires run over a pair of feet, and saw one of the things fall. He stomped the brake, bringing the car to a halt, and then threw it into drive. The things pounded harder on the windows. He hit the gas and sped forward.

He aimed the car straight ahead, where a few stragglers had begun to congregate. They raised their arms and moved towards the vehicle.

“That’s right, keep coming!”

Dan plowed into three of the things, hurling them over the hood of the cruiser and back onto the pavement. The others had fallen behind, unable to catch the speeding vehicle.

Suddenly he was free, driving into the night, the chaos behind him. Even with the windows up, he could still smell the pungent odor of blood and decay finding its way through the vents. He rolled down the window, but only to a crack.
What has this world come to?

His cellphone rang, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He answered the call.

“Hello?”

A voice whispered from the other end.

“
He’s got Quinn.
”

Dan looked down at the phone. It was Mickey.

“Who has her? Mickey, are you ok?”

“
H-Howard has her. They’re headed to the station
.”

Mickey’s voice sounded labored, as if he was speaking underwater. Dan felt a wave of nausea creep over him.

“Where are you?” Dan asked.

His friend paused.

“
Don’t t-trust him, Dan
.”

The call disconnected.

16

T
he little girl squirmed in
the backseat of the cruiser. Howard had put her there to ensure she wouldn’t try running again. He would bring her to the station, and then he would contact her father. Fate should take its course from there. He hoped they didn’t meet up again—for their sake.

So far, the streets were empty. Either the infection was still spreading, or the residents were elsewhere, searching for victims. Howard felt a tickle in his throat, and coughed into his hand. He looked down, expecting for a brief moment to see blood on his hand.
Just like his mother had seen years ago, when she had been diagnosed with cancer
. But he knew better. He had been careful.

He reached between the seats and retrieved a bottle of water that he had stored there. He twisted off the cap and drank from it. In his house, he had several storerooms full of food and drink—enough to last him a year or so, he figured. Plenty of time to outlast the infection.

The Agent leaders had warned him before the contamination was to begin. He had been prepared. A few weeks prior, he had received the text message. It was one he had been waiting on for five years.

It has begun.

Each year, around this time, he received a package in the mail containing a new cellphone. He would carefully discard the old one and destroy the envelope it had come in. Updates had been few and far between, but he had been kept informed.

Now, he was using the phone to report the progress in St. Matthews. Due to the town’s small size and remote location, Howard guessed it was one of the first to be infected.
A trial run for what was to come.

The information Howard had was limited. He had been told that the virus would start with the food and water supply, and that he should avoid anything produced after a certain date. But he also knew that the Agents had infiltrated numerous sectors of society—there were plenty of other ways to spread the disease. According to the leaders, he would be briefed as necessary. His survival had been guaranteed.

The world needed a change. Humanity had abused the earth, destroying their bodies and the environment, succumbing to selfishness and materialism. He had seen everything clearly when his mother died. He had changed his own ways. He had given up his vices.

It was too bad others couldn’t see the same thing—that they couldn’t realize the flaws in their existence. Now they would suffer the ultimate consequence.

He felt honored to be a part of the first phase. Someday, he might be remembered for being one of the pioneers of the new world.

“Howard?” the girl called out from the backseat.

He sat upright, replacing the water bottle.

“What do you want?”

“Can I get out now? You can drop me off here. I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “I have to take you back to your father, at the station.”

The girl hugged her arms across her chest.

“Does he even know I’m here?”

“Yes,” Howard lied.

He could tell she didn’t believe him. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

They were just a few blocks from the station. Howard noticed a few shadows at the side of the road. The cruiser’s headlights revealed two creatures picking away at a carcass. They looked up at the passing vehicle and took a few steps toward it as he drove by.

“Not tonight,” he muttered.

A few seconds later, Howard pulled into the station. The parking lot was empty. He parked the cruiser and opened the back door, motioning for the girl to get out. She slid out of the backseat and onto the pavement, her eyes darting around the lot. He grabbed her arm and led her to the front door of the station.

The building appeared intact. He unlocked the door, pulled the girl inside, and then locked it behind them.

“This way,” he said.

He led her down the corridor toward the jail cell. For a second, he envisioned Frank’s body inside, still covered in the blue blanket. The cell had since been cleaned, but he could make out a small red stain underneath the bench, and he grimaced. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, its hinges groaning in protest.

“Inside.”

The girl looked at him and began to cry.

“I don’t want to go in there, Howard.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. He relaxed his grip on her arm, and then felt her slip through his fingers. She started to run for the door.

“Dammit—not again!” he swore.

Howard lunged after her, catching hold of her shirt and pulling her backwards. She flailed in his arms, screaming. He threw her into the cell and locked the door, and then headed for the corridor.

He took out his cellphone.

17

D
an turned off his lights
as he pulled into the police station. He was still reeling from what he had heard. Mickey’s voice played over and over in his head.

“
Don’t trust him, Dan
.”

He had tried calling the officer back several times, but the call had gone to voicemail. What had Mickey meant? In the midst of what was going on, the cryptic warning sent a shiver of fear through Dan’s body. Howard had been his closest friend on the force for five years. What ill intent could he possibly have?

At the same time, he also felt a sense of relief. From the sounds of it, his daughter was alive. He just needed to get to her as soon as possible.

A single cruiser sat in the police station lot. Dan eyed the license plate, confirming that it was Howard’s. He parked his car and shut off the engine. The lights were on in the station, but the painted glass windows blocked his view of the inside. As he stepped outside the vehicle, he remembered there were cameras in the parking lot. He hoped the senior officer wasn’t watching them.

He felt for his gun, which was pressed tightly against his waistband. Without bullets, it would be next to useless in the event of an attack. He reached back inside the cruiser and retrieved a police baton from between the seats.
Better than nothing
, he thought to himself.

Dan gripped the weapon and crept across the open parking lot. He stopped briefly at the other cruiser, peering inside. A few bottles of water and some wrappers lay on the passenger seat. Otherwise, the car was clean.

He crossed the rest of the lot to the front door and tugged at the handle. It was locked. He inserted his key and opened the station. Once inside, he scanned the parking lot for the creatures, and then locked the door behind him.

The front corridor was empty. To his left was the door to the locker room. To his right, he saw the door to the main office. There were two other doors— one to the supply room and one to the janitor’s closet. The entrance to the jail cell was at the opposite end. He heard voices now. One of them grew louder as he approached.

“Howard, please let me out!”

It was Quinn. Had Howard locked her in the jail cell?

Dan began to shake. He felt the urge to dart down the hall, throw open the door at the end, and help her. But he needed to be cautious. Their lives depended on it.

His mind raced. How could Howard have turned on him? The man had stood by his side for years, had always proved himself to be a trustworthy ally. Hell, he had eaten meals with Dan’s family, had given his daughter gifts for her birthday. Was he infected like the rest of them? Why else would he do this?

The thought made him sick.

Dan heard movement now, from behind the door up ahead. It sounded like someone was getting ready to exit. He hugged the left side of the corridor, and then ducked into the locker room, gripping the baton to his chest.

He heard the door creak open in the corridor, and then footsteps echoing off the walls.

“Howard, please! Don’t leave me in here!” Quinn yelled.

The door slammed shut. Dan held his breath, listening to the man approach. The senior officer couldn’t be more than ten feet away, on the other side of the locker room wall. Dan pressed his cheek against a row of lockers, the metal cold against his cheek.

The footsteps ceased. The echoes tapered off, and the station fell silent.

Had he been spotted on the cameras? Was Howard aware that he was in the station—maybe even aware of his location in the locker room?

Inside the lockers, just inches away, were spare weapons, as well as ammunition. He could make a move for them, but the senior officer would be on him before he could use the keys. Silence permeated the station, and he felt his heart thudding in his chest.

Something vibrated in his pocket, and then Dan’s cellphone began to ring.

Shit
, he thought.

The tone echoed through the locker room and beyond, betraying any cover he may have had. He slipped the phone out of his pocket, hitting the silent button and looking at the faceplate.

It was Howard placing the call.

The footsteps in the hallway resumed, this time headed right for the locker room.

“Dan?” Howard’s voice echoed from the hallway.

Dan had slipped to the end of the lockers to the right of the entrance, wedging himself between the shelf and the wall. Howard had entered the doorway, and was now only ten feet away. Dan heard the sound of fabric creasing as the officer bent down to pick something up off the ground.
He must have found my cellphone
, he thought. It was a last resort. Perhaps if the officer found the phone, he would think it had been left there.