Contamination: Dead Instinct (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) (14 page)

Neither of them were Isaac.
 

Thank God.
 

He wiped his forehead and collected his thoughts.
Calm down, Ken.
After days of travel, he'd finally found his way to the city, and now he realized he was deathly afraid to enter it. What if he found the answer he was looking for?

What if the answer was worse than he imagined?

He dipped his hand into his pocket and removed the picture. His son's eyes were vibrant, full of life. He couldn't envision Isaac any other way. He flipped the photograph and stared at his wife's neat handwriting on the back.

47 North Street Apartment 3.

Isaac's apartment. The place he'd crossed a thousand miles to reach. That would be the most obvious starting point. There was a chance his son was still holed up there, still awaiting rescue. Although Ken had never visited his son, he'd mapped the route in his head several times before leaving, committing most of it to memory. He'd even printed out a map and kept it in his back pocket.
 

He patted his pants to ensure it was still there.

Satisfied, Ken grabbed his pistol from the passenger's seat. Then he reached in back and grabbed one of the bags he'd brought with him, packing it full of weapons. Two more pistols. A rifle. Spare ammunition. He left the top unzipped to accommodate the rifle, then stepped out onto the highway.

He slung the bag over his shoulder, the contents already weighing him down.
 

The interstate was quiet and deserted—just him and the bodies. But he could hear the distant wails of creatures on the move, cries that were buried somewhere in the city. Upon hearing the noise, most people would've been headed the other way, but not Ken.
 

Not with his son unaccounted for.

He started moving down the interstate. The cars were thick and tangled, like an overgrown forest made of metal rather than wood, and he skirted around them, mindful of the dead inside. Now that he was out of the vehicle, the smell of death and decay was pungent and fierce, and it stung his eyes and invaded his throat.

He kept his eyes on the interior of each car as he passed.
 

There was a chance something was still lurking inside, ready to spring out and grab him. Either that, or waiting beneath a car's undercarriage. He'd already learned that the hard way.

He tried to envision the events that had led to the scene before him. Most of the windows were smashed, the tires bent at odd angles. Dead bodies hung over car windowsills, and some were slumped sideways in their seats. He could only speculate about the panic that must have overtaken the survivors at the onset of the infection. By the looks of it, they'd done everything possible to drive from the scene, but had ended up in what was essentially a human landfill.

The highway was a mass grave for the unburied.
 

Panicked and in a hurry, the survivors would've been easy targets for the roaming infected. As Ken had seen, the windows and doors of a vehicle were only a temporary shield from the carnage, a brief respite from death.

The scene was a sobering reminder of what he'd be up against.
 

He swallowed as he wandered his way through. He'd gotten so used to the interstate being deserted that he'd forgotten what it was like to travel a populated highway. More people meant more infected. More infected meant a greater chance he'd die.

He aimed his gun ahead of him, as if the piece itself would ward off danger, ready to step in and save him. It was times like these that he wished he had Roberta to talk to and draw strength from. He remembered the conversations they'd had over the past few nights: reflections of years gone by, and expressions of worry for their son. Through it all, Roberta had kept him sane.
 

And now Ken was alone.

He glanced to his right, scoping out several buildings that flanked the highway past the tall barriers. The lights and windows were dark. Every so often, he heard the scrape of a footstep or the clatter of debris. A few times, the noises sounded so deliberate that he was certain something was following him, shadowing his movements, but he had yet to see any evidence of it.

Paranoia
, he told himself. Undoubtedly he'd be spotted at some point, but he didn't think he'd been noticed yet. In any case, he slouched lower, hoping to obscure his presence. He kept his eye on his surroundings, searching for a way off the highway. The barrier on the side of the interstate was too high to climb.
 

He might be able to get over the median, though, if he had to.

He peered over his shoulder at the station wagon, which was already disappearing in the distance. If he were forced to retreat, it'd take time to get to it. On top of that, he wasn't even sure he could maneuver the vehicle back the way he'd come—at least, not without difficulty.

Hopefully it won't come to that
.

In the distance, he could see a green exit sign hovering over the road like a beacon. He reached for his back pocket and pulled out his map. He studied it, determining which course he'd take. If he could make it to the next exit, he'd be a half mile from Isaac's apartment. He folded the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket.
 

As he readjusted, the contents of his bag shifted, swaying with the pull of gravity. The pack slid down his shoulder. One of the clips broke free and clattered to the ground.

He scrambled to catch it, but not in time. Ken stooped to retrieve it and placed it back in the bag.

When he looked up, he froze.

The interstate had come alive. Just a few seconds ago, it'd appeared dead and deserted, but now a ripple of movement was working its way through the cars around him. Objects that he'd thought were dead bodies were actually alive—alive and infected. He heard the susurrant murmur of things awakened, and he gripped the gun with trembling hands.

The things were everywhere. He was surrounded.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Kate!" Isaac screamed again, but the girl didn't respond. She was already halfway down the alley, headed straight for her sister. The infected girl sped up at the sight of her, arms outstretched, her groans reverberating through the alley. It was like a family reunion, but one that could only end with Kate's blood.

He wasn't sure what the girl was planning, but he knew he had to stop her.

Isaac clutched his gun and threw open the door, then sprinted toward the girls. Kate and Clara were about midway down the alley, several hundred feet from the stopped vehicle.
 

Kate was trying to reason with her sister. She was holding her knife, but her hand was trembling.

"This isn't you, Clara!" she screamed. "Please stop this!"

Kate was crying. Clara hissed. She batted at her sister with poised fingernails, ready to attack.

"We can get you help!" Kate screamed. It seemed like she'd lost it.
 

The infected girl advanced. If she recognized her sister, she showed no outward signs of it. Isaac paused about fifteen feet away, already aiming his gun.
 

Before he could fire, Clara lunged at Kate. Kate dodged to the side, but not before Clara had grabbed her arm, and she lost her footing and plunged to the ground. The knife clattered to the pavement beside her. The infected girl was on her instantaneously, clawing and biting and tearing. Kate tried to struggle, but the girl was going straight for her neck. Isaac fired a shot.

The bullet connected with Clara's arm, but she continued tearing at her sister. Frantic, he fired again, this time striking her in the neck, and the infected girl collapsed in a puddle of gore.

"Kate!" Isaac cried.

He ran toward his companion, but it was too late. Her cries were already silenced, her pleas softened to a gurgle. Within seconds Kate was lifeless and still.

The patter of footsteps echoed from further down the alley. Several creatures had come into view, and they careened down the narrow alley, eyes fixated on him. He glanced back at Kate, as if to save her, but there was nothing left to save. Her eyes had glazed over and she was staring into the sky.
 

Isaac bit back tears and sprinted back down the alley. In the distance, he could see the open door of the vehicle he'd left behind. The creatures were gaining on him—a tidal wave of limbs that threatened to overtake him. He kept his eyes locked on the door.
 

Before he knew it, he'd leapt into the driver's side and engaged the gear. The car raced forward, and he steered with one hand, still clutching the gun. He reached over, slammed the door shut and locked the car.
 

He floored the gas pedal, zipping through the street and gaining distance from the pursuing infected. Tears wet his cheeks. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Kate. One minute she'd been next to him, and the next she'd been gone.
 

It was as if she'd never existed at all.
 

He'd barely known the girl, but in a world where everything seemed to be disappearing, she was one of the last links to humanity he'd had. Ever since his roommate had died, Isaac had fought the overwhelming feeling that he was alone, that he'd die without anyone knowing who or where he was.
 

His family, if they were still alive, would never track down his remains. He'd never receive a burial.

Thoughts of Kate's final moments ran through his head. What would he do if his own family turned? He'd gone several streets before he realized he had no idea where he was going. He wasn't paying attention, just driving.

His feet and hands were executing the right maneuvers, but his brain was barely cognizant of his actions; it was as if his body were on autopilot, and he was simply along for the ride.

What was the point in continuing anymore? Kate's death might've been preventable, but even if she hadn't gotten out of the car, she might've died just the same. And the same could be said for Isaac. He might survive for a little longer, sure, but at some point he'd succumb to a similar fate.
 

If he wasn't killed by the creatures, he'd die from starvation.

Isaac wiped his face, slowing the vehicle. He could no longer hear the stampede of the infected. For the moment, the area was clear.
 

Pull yourself together, Isaac.

If he was to have any chance at survival, he'd need to figure out where he was going. Figure out where the highway was. He'd been so close. She'd almost gotten him there.
 

He studied the street signs, digging through his memory. He was on Tyler, which intersected with Dunning, which intersected with Appleton. He was close. Only a few minutes away, actually. Kate's shortcut had saved him time, and it'd also allowed him to go around the city center.

It was like a gift from the dead, a final favor from a girl who could no longer give any.

"Thanks, Kate," he whispered.
 

He let his foot off the brake and continued down the lifeless streets, drying his tears with his shirt.
 

Ken looked in all directions—to his front, to his sides, and behind him. The movement was spreading like a ripple in a pond. Everywhere he looked was a creature, and everywhere he stared was a set of eyes. It'd probably been awhile since the things had found a victim.

That didn't bode well for him.

He glanced back at the station wagon, contemplating making a run for it, but there were already several creatures in the vicinity. It was as if they'd waited for him to walk up the highway and then walled him in.
 

He glanced at the barrier next to the highway. It was about fifteen feet high, and there was no way he could jump over. Then he glanced at the median. He could see a wall of cars on the other side of the highway. By the looks of it, that side was just as junked and cluttered as the one he was on.

But he had to go
somewhere
.

Ken raced for the median, the backpack jouncing against his shoulder blades. He thanked God he had weapons. Even still, they were hardly enough to stop a horde of the things. In fact, the farther he could get without shooting, the better.

He scrambled up the cement wall, putting one leg over, then the other, until he'd swung to the other side. His boots landed with a
thud
in the dirt. He could hear the horde behind him—footfalls coming from all directions, cries increasing in volume.
 

He looked across the highway, noting a similar barrier at the highway's edge. Another fifteen-foot wall he couldn't climb. There was nowhere to hide. His only option was to run further down the interstate, heading toward the city.
 

Ken fled as fast as his legs would take him. He darted and dodged around vehicles, crashing into side-view mirrors and using car hoods to stabilize himself. There were a few creatures on the northbound side of the interstate, but not as many. He'd gained a few seconds by jumping the wall.
 

But his lead wouldn't last long.

In his peripheral vision, he could see bodies cascading over the median, then struggling to stand. The string of cars in front of him seemed to go on forever; the smell of death was ripe in the air. A creature sprang out of nowhere, blocking his path. It bared its teeth. Ken raised his pistol and shot it in the head, sending it to the ground.

Another creature grabbed onto his arm. It leapt at him across a nearby car hood, and he struggled to shake it off, his shirt tearing as it clamored for his flesh. He broke free and fired off a round in its shoulder, sending it ricocheting off the car from where it'd come.
 

The gun blasts only added to the cacophony of sounds—moans, footsteps, and the sound of his own heavy breathing. He strove for the next exit, watching several buildings draw closer. If he could get to them...

But there wasn't time.

Other creatures were converging on him—some from in front, some from behind. He could sense movement in all directions, and the groans frayed what little nerves he had left. He saw a clearing ahead, and he sprinted for it.