Contamination Prequel (Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) by T.W. Piperbrook Page A

open behind him in the rearview mirror. The creature was at the driver’s side window now, just inches away. Its breath fogged up the glass, and it began to pound on the window.
    “C’mon, hurry up!” Dan screamed at the garage door.
    He threw the car in reverse and hit the gas. The car began to inch backwards. Dan looked behind him and then rammed on the brakes.
    “Shit!”
    Howard’s police cruiser was parked in the driveway, directly behind the garage door. Julie’s Subaru Outback sat to his right. There was no way to get his car out of the garage.
    The creature hissed at him through the window, its nails scratching on the glass. Dan glanced in his rearview again. The three other things from the front yard had stepped into the garage, and were now heading for the cruiser. He looked down at the ignition. The key to the Outback dangled from the chain.
    He needed to get to the other car. And fast.
    Dan ripped the keys from the ignition and climbed into the passenger seat, knocking over a coffee cup on his way. The gun was on the seat underneath him—useless without bullets. He tucked it into the top of his pants. He reached for the door handle, and paused to look around him.
    The creature to his left had begun moving around the front of the cruiser. Three others approached the passenger side. The Outback was just a few feet away. If he didn’t get out soon, he would be trapped. Dan opened the door and leapt out.
    He grabbed hold of the car key and threw it into the Outback, but it was too late. One of the creatures ripped at his shirt collar, tearing him away from the vehicle.
    “No!” he shouted.
    Dan threw his elbow back and felt it connect with a face. The attacker fell backwards, knocking into its companions, but the three barricaded any escape from the garage. The first creature advanced from the front of the cruiser. He was surrounded.
    Dan dropped to the floor and began to pull himself underneath the Outback. He heard something clatter onto the floor behind him. Damn , he thought. His keys. From underneath the car, he saw a parade of tattered shoes stepping around them. His pulse beat through his body, sending a rush of blood to his temples.
    Dan wiggled his feet, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He reached his arm out slowly, but the keys were too far away. He inched his body towards them, balling his feet and pushing off the garage floor. He could almost reach them. He strained his fingers, watching them leave the protection of the vehicle and enter the open garage. He had almost made it when a cold, fleshy hand grabbed his wrist.
    One of the creatures was on the ground now, looking back at him with dark eyes. It hissed as it pulled on his arm.
    “Get the hell off of me!”
    He wrenched his hand back, feeling the creature’s nails scratch his wrist. The other things dropped to their knees and began reaching underneath the car, inspired by their companion. Dan pulled himself towards the other side, avoiding four sets of hands that were now clambering to get to him.
    He closed his eyes and began to pray.
    After a few seconds, Dan forced his eyes open. The hands continued to paw at him, several times catching hold of his pants, but thankfully losing their grip. His daughter needed him. He needed to act.
    He glanced towards the passenger side of the vehicle. The garage wall was empty, providing a few feet in which he could maneuver. There were no sets of feet on that side. For now, the coast was clear. He edged himself sideways, and stood up quickly on the opposite side.
    One of the creatures had started to roam towards the trunk, blocking a quick exit out the front of the garage. He looked around, searching for another option. On the back wall, he spotted the gardening tools hanging neatly from their pegs. Amongst them was a large pitchfork.
    Dan made a dash for it. The creatures had given up on the car and were now headed his way. He grabbed the pitchfork from the wall and swung it in front of