Read Online Contamination: Dead Instinct (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) by T.W. Piperbrook - Free Book Online
Authors: T.W. Piperbrook
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He steered toward it, hoping to find some evidence of what was going on. He crept past the kitchen table, noting the table set for three, then past the refrigerator and the microwave. He'd been in the room in the dark before, but normally he'd had the light of the appliances to assist him. Tonight there was nothing.
When he reached the light, he realized it was from a bulb in the oven. The door had been left open to a crack. He noticed a loaf of bread sitting on the middle rack. The edges were blackened, and there was green mold on the top.
Isaac staggered backward.
The darkness felt like it was encircling him, and he slid his hands along the walls, finding his way out of the kitchen. Having already checked the living room, he didn't stop there, but kept going until he'd reached the bathroom. He peered in but sensed nothing.
He continued.
The dining room was next, but he could see only tables and chairs. Other than for special occasions, his parents rarely used the room. There was no indication they'd been in there recently.
The last room on the main floor was his parents' bedroom. He slowed as he approached. As a child, he'd always respected his parents' privacy, and the room was one of the few into which he rarely ventured. He felt the sudden need to dampen his footsteps, and he tiptoed as he proceeded, though he wasn't sure why.
When he reached the doorway, he was hit with an odor worse than any he'd ever encountered. It was as if his mother's meal had been dumped somewhere on the floor and left to mold and fester. He gagged at the stench, but continued. As awful and disgusting and putrid as the room smelled, he needed to find his parents.
The room was darker than the others, and he strained his eyes but couldn't even see his own hands in front of him. He inched forward, terrified of what he might bump into, but resolved to find out what was going on.
His feet stumbled on something. A shirt, perhaps? He stopped, catching his balance, and bent down to determine what he'd tripped on. It was a piece of clothing. Normally his mother kept a clean house, but the bedroom was littered with belongings.
He groped for the light switch and flicked it, but nothing happened. Having found the wall, he used it as an anchor to keep from falling. He proceeded slowly until he reached the closet door. It rattled under his touch, and he jumped back, startled.
He called for his parents, but received no answer.
Out of nowhere, a light snapped on.
In the center of the room, a faint, circular glow had appeared on the bedsheets, as if someone were pressing a flashlight against the mattress. He could just make out the dim outline of the hand holding it, and the backlit visage of a man. It looked like his father.
"Dad?"
Isaac let go of the wall, leaving his anchor behind, and wobbled toward the bed. Unseen objects threatened to trip him, but he pressed on until he'd found purchase at the edge of the bed. The flashlight was still being held against the bedsheets. He could see the outline of his father, but he couldn't tell what the man was doing. His father's features were shrouded in darkness.
Was he all right? Was he injured? In need of help?
Frantic, Isaac pulled himself onto the bed on hands and knees and crawled toward his father. Before he could reach him, the man lifted the flashlight and pointed it toward the other end of the king-sized bed, revealing his mother.
Roberta lay there, covered in moss and weeds, her decaying form sunken into the mattress. Isaac opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He scrambled toward the edge of the bed. Before he could dismount, his father reached out and grabbed his arm. Then he turned the light on himself.
Ken Smith was alive, but his eyes were missing. In place of his eye sockets were twin gaping holes.
Isaac awoke with a jolt, nearly falling off the recliner. His heart thudded uncontrollably in his chest, and his breath was so fast
When he reached the light, he realized it was from a bulb in the oven. The door had been left open to a crack. He noticed a loaf of bread sitting on the middle rack. The edges were blackened, and there was green mold on the top.
Isaac staggered backward.
The darkness felt like it was encircling him, and he slid his hands along the walls, finding his way out of the kitchen. Having already checked the living room, he didn't stop there, but kept going until he'd reached the bathroom. He peered in but sensed nothing.
He continued.
The dining room was next, but he could see only tables and chairs. Other than for special occasions, his parents rarely used the room. There was no indication they'd been in there recently.
The last room on the main floor was his parents' bedroom. He slowed as he approached. As a child, he'd always respected his parents' privacy, and the room was one of the few into which he rarely ventured. He felt the sudden need to dampen his footsteps, and he tiptoed as he proceeded, though he wasn't sure why.
When he reached the doorway, he was hit with an odor worse than any he'd ever encountered. It was as if his mother's meal had been dumped somewhere on the floor and left to mold and fester. He gagged at the stench, but continued. As awful and disgusting and putrid as the room smelled, he needed to find his parents.
The room was darker than the others, and he strained his eyes but couldn't even see his own hands in front of him. He inched forward, terrified of what he might bump into, but resolved to find out what was going on.
His feet stumbled on something. A shirt, perhaps? He stopped, catching his balance, and bent down to determine what he'd tripped on. It was a piece of clothing. Normally his mother kept a clean house, but the bedroom was littered with belongings.
He groped for the light switch and flicked it, but nothing happened. Having found the wall, he used it as an anchor to keep from falling. He proceeded slowly until he reached the closet door. It rattled under his touch, and he jumped back, startled.
He called for his parents, but received no answer.
Out of nowhere, a light snapped on.
In the center of the room, a faint, circular glow had appeared on the bedsheets, as if someone were pressing a flashlight against the mattress. He could just make out the dim outline of the hand holding it, and the backlit visage of a man. It looked like his father.
"Dad?"
Isaac let go of the wall, leaving his anchor behind, and wobbled toward the bed. Unseen objects threatened to trip him, but he pressed on until he'd found purchase at the edge of the bed. The flashlight was still being held against the bedsheets. He could see the outline of his father, but he couldn't tell what the man was doing. His father's features were shrouded in darkness.
Was he all right? Was he injured? In need of help?
Frantic, Isaac pulled himself onto the bed on hands and knees and crawled toward his father. Before he could reach him, the man lifted the flashlight and pointed it toward the other end of the king-sized bed, revealing his mother.
Roberta lay there, covered in moss and weeds, her decaying form sunken into the mattress. Isaac opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He scrambled toward the edge of the bed. Before he could dismount, his father reached out and grabbed his arm. Then he turned the light on himself.
Ken Smith was alive, but his eyes were missing. In place of his eye sockets were twin gaping holes.
Isaac awoke with a jolt, nearly falling off the recliner. His heart thudded uncontrollably in his chest, and his breath was so fast
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