Contamination 7 by T.W. Piperbrook

Author:T.W. Piperbrook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T.W. Piperbrook
Published: 2018-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Before leaving the school, Sandy and the others repacked the food in the minivan, as well as the medical supplies Simon had found the night before. They also packed a few things from the utility shed: the shovels, the box cutter, and a few tools.

"You never know when we might need them," Simon said, as they shut the back door.

Sandy agreed. She looked over at her companions, grateful that they'd made it this far. Every day seemed like a gift in a world that didn't have many favors left to give.

"Do you want me to drive?" she asked, thankful for the rest she'd gotten.

"Sure," Simon said.

Sandy dug out the keys and got in the driver's seat. Hector, Marcia, and Anabel rode in back, while Simon took the passenger's seat, studying the atlas page.

Sandy clenched the wheel as they drove out of the elementary school parking lot and toward the distant mountains. The sun cast beaming rays onto the asphalt, creating a shimmering glare. She had to squint to see. Sandy took in their surroundings. The rising, majestic landscape seemed more suited for photographs than reality. The sloping mountains rose and fell gracefully, as if they were made of fluid rather than earth and stone, their sides speckled with trees and green foliage.

"I remember coming this way with my brother," Sandy recalled wistfully. "We used to take drives all the time when we first moved, before things got busy."

"They always do," Simon said.

"I'd give anything for one last drive with him."

"I'd been meaning to take a camping trip with my sister. I never thought I'd make it up here this way."

Sandy smiled grimly. "Have you ever been to the White Mountains?"

"No," Simon said. "I heard a lot about it, while living in Tucson. I know the camping is supposed to be really nice."

"How long have you lived in Tucson?"

"Only about a year. I was still getting used to the area."

Sandy nodded. She watched as several buildings passed by the roadside—one-story constructs that looked like they hadn't harbored life in years. Occasionally they drove past a splattered, gruesome carcass on the road as they got closer to the mountains. Sandy imagined fleeing survivors running over the things on their way to safety. She'd seen plenty of that in the beginning, back when there had been enough survivors that she couldn't count them all. Now they'd be lucky to find one.

She glanced down at the pistol in her lap, feeling safer with it in her possession. It was much better than the knife she was carrying. Simon held one of the dead men's rifles. He'd given his pistol to Marcia, while Hector took the other rifle.

They were armed better than they'd been before. At least that was a relief.

Thick, ponderosa pines sprung up as they curved onto Route 191, headed into the mountains. Sandy had envisioned taking this route many times, usually while keeping watch at the lumberyard, or huddled in some building in the center of town, praying she'd escape and find help.

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