Contamination Prequel (Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) by T.W. Piperbrook Read Free Book Online

and silenced the radio. The officer said something else, but it was inaudible. He needed to focus, and right now Mickey’s words were a distraction. Besides, he didn’t need to draw any further attention to himself. He already felt like a moving target.
    As he finally reached the fourth street, he noticed all the lights were off. There was no sign of activity among the residents. Perhaps Quinn had veered off in another direction, or she had stopped screaming just shy of Sullivan Avenue, leaving its residents blissfully asleep. He glanced farther up the road, and squinted into the night. His initial observation had been incorrect. One set of porch lights was on, near the end of the road. Now that he had noticed them, they seemed to illuminate the house in the night like a beacon.
    Sheriff Turner’s patrol car sat in the driveway.
    Either his boss was getting ready to leave the house—already made aware of the night’s events—or else a little girl had knocked on his door just short of midnight. Howard crossed the road, running now.
    He drew close to the car, holding his gun in front of him. The screen was shut, but the storm door had been left open. As he started up the walkway, he heard a tremendous crash from inside.
    “Sheriff?” he called in.
    The banging continued. A girl’s shriek rang out from within. Howard threw open the door, leading with his pistol, and entered the living room. A massive shadow hugged the back of the room. It was ramming against a door on the other side.
    “Police! Hold it right there!” Howard yelled.
    He reached to his left, feeling for the light switch. Thankfully, his memory served him well, and the room lit up. He had been to the Sheriff’s house plenty of times, but never on police business. His jaw dropped as he surveyed the scene.
    The first thing he saw was the body of Mrs. Laney Turner. The woman was facedown in the middle of the room, her head caved in. The busted frames of her glasses lay beside her, stuck to the wood floor in a collage of blood. Clumps of her hair covered the carpet.
    Sheriff Turner stood behind the couch, his hands raised above his head. Black streaks covered his eyes, as if they had been injected with vials of India ink. He had ripped open the hall closet, tearing the frail wooden door from its hinges, and it now lay sideways by his feet. His massive figure concealed the majority of the doorframe, but Howard could see through his legs.
    Quinn Lowery sat amongst the cleaning products, arms tucked over her head. She whimpered as she saw him, as if he, too, had come to attack her.
    The sheriff grunted, turning his attention to the new visitor. He began to move towards the front door.
    Howard gritted his teeth and fired the pistol. He continued to squeeze the trigger, firing one round after the next, until he had emptied the entire clip into his boss. The bullets riddled the fat man’s body, pulling corks of flesh from his stomach and spilling red fluid beneath. The sheriff’s eyes rolled in his head, and he collapsed with a thud onto the floor.
    The girl began to bawl. She put her head between her legs, hair billowing over her knees. Howard looked at her and then at the body on the floor. The sheriff lay in a pool of blood, his dead wife just ten feet away. Howard realized he felt nothing.
    Nothing at all.
    He lowered his gun. For the first time that night, a sense of calm swept over him.
    “Come with me,” he said to the girl. Although he didn’t realize it, his lips had curved upwards into a smile.

    Howard and Quinn walked in silence. The girl trailed behind, sniffling quietly to herself, but didn’t utter a word.
    After taking care of the sheriff, Howard had warned Quinn to keep her composure and remain quiet. He instructed her to stick to his side as they made their way back to the Lowery residence. He had been harsh, but it was what she needed to hear. The gunshots had attracted enough attention.
    Even still, the streets seemed eerily silent. Many