Contamination: Dead Instinct (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) by T.W. Piperbrook Page A
Authors: T.W. Piperbrook
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them? Should he have stayed?
It seemed like they'd gone insane.
But as sickening and vile and unimaginable as their actions had been, they were just struggling to survive. Same as him. He thought of the things he'd done over the past few days—the things he'd been forced to do—and tried to justify his own actions.
Could it all be answered for? Explained?
He couldn't fixate on it now. Somewhere out there, his son was navigating the same broken world, perhaps facing similar choices. He needed to get to him, and he needed to pull him out of this dark hole that threatened to consume them.
He started the engine. The station wagon fired without hesitation, as if it had been waiting to resume its journey.
He drove around the stalled vehicles, the opened doors, and the bodies, and continued on I-40. As he drove, he focused on earlier memories, things he was afraid he'd lose. The birth of his son. Isaac's first smile. His first steps.
He needed those things now more than ever.
Anything to take his mind off what he'd seen.
He struggled to remember cherub-faced Isaac waddling from room to room, clinging to the edges of furniture. Isaac had always been independent. Ken had watched him with pride as he found his footing. Watched with anxiety as he'd ridden his first bike. And eighteen years after he was born, he'd watched with sorrow as his son had left the family home behind. The images made him nostalgic.
Ken wished he'd picked up the phone more. He should've called Isaac when he'd had the chance. Now he longed to hear his son's voice, to remind him that everything he was doing was for a reason.
Without Roberta, there was no one left to restore his faith, to convince him that things would turn around. There was only an open road filled with bodies and blood and men doing unthinkable things.
The highway was littered with reminders of what he was up against.
A sign whipped past, and Ken was so caught up in his realm of memories that he almost missed it. He'd been driving for several hours without stopping.
I-17 52 MILES
He was getting closer. Thankfully, he'd been able to avoid the obstacles in his path, and he'd yet to encounter anyone else. As if on cue, a fallen road bike and a mini-van appeared in the road. Just past them was a state cruiser, the lights still flashing, the tires flat. Inside, he could see a uniformed officer. There was movement in the car.
Was the officer alive? He tried to quell his hope.
He slowed the vehicle to take a look. As he passed, he expected to find the policeman peering back in his direction. Instead, he saw two rabid-faced infected, snarling and biting at each other as they picked at the fallen officer. They glared at him with hunger-stricken eyes as he drove past.
He thought of Dan Lowery and Quinn, the police officer and daughter he'd met on the road several days earlier. They'd given him the station wagon he was driving. Had they made it to Oklahoma? Had they found the little girl's aunt? He hoped so.
He glanced around the vehicle, his eyes settling on an empty soda can and a pile of wrappers. They were reminders of a happier time, he supposed. Back when life was as simple as eating and talking and keeping company with those you loved.
He hoped to do that soon with Isaac.
He smiled at the thought, picturing Isaac's chubby baby legs as he waddled from coffee table to couch. When he found his son again, he'd share that memory with him.
The image persisted, even as he steered around a pile of mangled bodies and a pool of blood drying in the midday sun.
Chapter Eleven
"When's the last time you were with a girl, Isaac?"
Scotty tilted his head back, blowing a stream of smoke in the air.
"I don't remember," Isaac said.
The rest of his companions laughed. A few seconds ago, they'd been more interested in the posters on the wall than him, but now they were paying attention.
"That long, huh?" Scotty asked. "How about you, Jimmy?"
The
It seemed like they'd gone insane.
But as sickening and vile and unimaginable as their actions had been, they were just struggling to survive. Same as him. He thought of the things he'd done over the past few days—the things he'd been forced to do—and tried to justify his own actions.
Could it all be answered for? Explained?
He couldn't fixate on it now. Somewhere out there, his son was navigating the same broken world, perhaps facing similar choices. He needed to get to him, and he needed to pull him out of this dark hole that threatened to consume them.
He started the engine. The station wagon fired without hesitation, as if it had been waiting to resume its journey.
He drove around the stalled vehicles, the opened doors, and the bodies, and continued on I-40. As he drove, he focused on earlier memories, things he was afraid he'd lose. The birth of his son. Isaac's first smile. His first steps.
He needed those things now more than ever.
Anything to take his mind off what he'd seen.
He struggled to remember cherub-faced Isaac waddling from room to room, clinging to the edges of furniture. Isaac had always been independent. Ken had watched him with pride as he found his footing. Watched with anxiety as he'd ridden his first bike. And eighteen years after he was born, he'd watched with sorrow as his son had left the family home behind. The images made him nostalgic.
Ken wished he'd picked up the phone more. He should've called Isaac when he'd had the chance. Now he longed to hear his son's voice, to remind him that everything he was doing was for a reason.
Without Roberta, there was no one left to restore his faith, to convince him that things would turn around. There was only an open road filled with bodies and blood and men doing unthinkable things.
The highway was littered with reminders of what he was up against.
A sign whipped past, and Ken was so caught up in his realm of memories that he almost missed it. He'd been driving for several hours without stopping.
I-17 52 MILES
He was getting closer. Thankfully, he'd been able to avoid the obstacles in his path, and he'd yet to encounter anyone else. As if on cue, a fallen road bike and a mini-van appeared in the road. Just past them was a state cruiser, the lights still flashing, the tires flat. Inside, he could see a uniformed officer. There was movement in the car.
Was the officer alive? He tried to quell his hope.
He slowed the vehicle to take a look. As he passed, he expected to find the policeman peering back in his direction. Instead, he saw two rabid-faced infected, snarling and biting at each other as they picked at the fallen officer. They glared at him with hunger-stricken eyes as he drove past.
He thought of Dan Lowery and Quinn, the police officer and daughter he'd met on the road several days earlier. They'd given him the station wagon he was driving. Had they made it to Oklahoma? Had they found the little girl's aunt? He hoped so.
He glanced around the vehicle, his eyes settling on an empty soda can and a pile of wrappers. They were reminders of a happier time, he supposed. Back when life was as simple as eating and talking and keeping company with those you loved.
He hoped to do that soon with Isaac.
He smiled at the thought, picturing Isaac's chubby baby legs as he waddled from coffee table to couch. When he found his son again, he'd share that memory with him.
The image persisted, even as he steered around a pile of mangled bodies and a pool of blood drying in the midday sun.
Chapter Eleven
"When's the last time you were with a girl, Isaac?"
Scotty tilted his head back, blowing a stream of smoke in the air.
"I don't remember," Isaac said.
The rest of his companions laughed. A few seconds ago, they'd been more interested in the posters on the wall than him, but now they were paying attention.
"That long, huh?" Scotty asked. "How about you, Jimmy?"
The
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