Read Online Sanctuary by T.W. Piperbrook - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T.W. Piperbrook
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like months ago that he'd left St. Matthews, though it'd only been a week.
He still recalled moving to St. Matthews a decade ago. At the time, Dan had been a fresh-faced cop, a young father building his family and his career. St. Matthews had been small and quaint, and he'd enjoyed getting to know the town and its residents. His dream had been to move up the ranks, to provide a stable life for his Julie and Quinn. He'd never imagined it all being stripped away.
His definition of stability had changed since then, in addition to the scenery. Now a secure life was as simple—and as fragile—as breathing, eating, and surviving.
They'd just taken a turn when Dan saw a water tower in the distance. The bulbous white structure loomed over the landscape. There was a small building next to it. He recalled passing it on the way from Arizona.
"Daddy, didn't we drive by that on the way to Meredith's?"
He glanced in the backseat to find Quinn watching it in awe. "Yep, we did, honey."
"It looks different."
"What do you mean?"
Dan leaned forward, peering out the windshield, trying to determine what his daughter saw. He cupped his hand over his eyes to reduce the glare. The tower rose several hundred feet in the air and was supported by a pole in the center. Four ladders led to a railed, circular area where people could stand. A black logo was emblazoned on the side. Dan hadn't recognized the company name.
Now, the logo was covered by a message in red paint. Dan squinted as they approached. He stiffened when he read the word.
"Help," he said aloud, as if he was interpreting for the others.
Dan tightened his grip on the pistol. He glanced around the roadway, empty except for the tower hovering in the distance. Either someone was here, or they had been in the past few days. He studied the water tower, but saw no sign of life. It wasn't until they got closer that he saw movement. Something was on the ground at the base of the tower.
"Stop the car," he said suddenly.
Surprised, Meredith coasted to the side of the road and parked. The water tower was about a hundred feet from the road. A cluster of infected were stationed at the bottom, tearing into a body. Their movements were slow and laborious. A pair of shoes wiggled at the center of the commotion.
The victim was moving.
"Stay here," Dan ordered, getting out of the vehicle. He grabbed a rifle to complement his pistol. Then he shut the door.
Dan crept onto the road's shoulder, his shoes crunching pebbles and sand. He kept his eye on the grisly scene, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. The infected were moving slowly—there were only five, and he wasn't worried about outrunning them. But he'd have to be careful just the same. When he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the victim. Judging by the build, the person underneath them was male.
"Hello?" Dan called.
The victim—if he was still alive—was silent. The only sounds were the wind whipping through the grass and the guttural moans of the chewing infected.
They turned their heads and looked at him, starting to stand. One of the creatures let go of the victim's leg. It stopped moving. The man hadn't been moving, after all.
He'd been dead for a while.
Dan grimaced at the gory scene. The man's features had been torn off and eaten, his stomach eviscerated. His neck and arms were bent at irregular angles. Dan gazed up at the water tower, then back at the ground. The man had either jumped or fallen.
Either that, or the creatures had somehow gotten up and torn him down.
Dan noticed a larger horde in the distance. It looked like this group had broken off from the pack. He envisioned them surrounding the base of the water tower, pawing at the rungs of the ladder. He could only imagine the victim's terror.
The infected had broken away from their meal and were starting toward him. Dan covered his mouth, giving the scene one last glance, then jogged back to the car. The red letters on the water
He still recalled moving to St. Matthews a decade ago. At the time, Dan had been a fresh-faced cop, a young father building his family and his career. St. Matthews had been small and quaint, and he'd enjoyed getting to know the town and its residents. His dream had been to move up the ranks, to provide a stable life for his Julie and Quinn. He'd never imagined it all being stripped away.
His definition of stability had changed since then, in addition to the scenery. Now a secure life was as simple—and as fragile—as breathing, eating, and surviving.
They'd just taken a turn when Dan saw a water tower in the distance. The bulbous white structure loomed over the landscape. There was a small building next to it. He recalled passing it on the way from Arizona.
"Daddy, didn't we drive by that on the way to Meredith's?"
He glanced in the backseat to find Quinn watching it in awe. "Yep, we did, honey."
"It looks different."
"What do you mean?"
Dan leaned forward, peering out the windshield, trying to determine what his daughter saw. He cupped his hand over his eyes to reduce the glare. The tower rose several hundred feet in the air and was supported by a pole in the center. Four ladders led to a railed, circular area where people could stand. A black logo was emblazoned on the side. Dan hadn't recognized the company name.
Now, the logo was covered by a message in red paint. Dan squinted as they approached. He stiffened when he read the word.
"Help," he said aloud, as if he was interpreting for the others.
Dan tightened his grip on the pistol. He glanced around the roadway, empty except for the tower hovering in the distance. Either someone was here, or they had been in the past few days. He studied the water tower, but saw no sign of life. It wasn't until they got closer that he saw movement. Something was on the ground at the base of the tower.
"Stop the car," he said suddenly.
Surprised, Meredith coasted to the side of the road and parked. The water tower was about a hundred feet from the road. A cluster of infected were stationed at the bottom, tearing into a body. Their movements were slow and laborious. A pair of shoes wiggled at the center of the commotion.
The victim was moving.
"Stay here," Dan ordered, getting out of the vehicle. He grabbed a rifle to complement his pistol. Then he shut the door.
Dan crept onto the road's shoulder, his shoes crunching pebbles and sand. He kept his eye on the grisly scene, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. The infected were moving slowly—there were only five, and he wasn't worried about outrunning them. But he'd have to be careful just the same. When he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the victim. Judging by the build, the person underneath them was male.
"Hello?" Dan called.
The victim—if he was still alive—was silent. The only sounds were the wind whipping through the grass and the guttural moans of the chewing infected.
They turned their heads and looked at him, starting to stand. One of the creatures let go of the victim's leg. It stopped moving. The man hadn't been moving, after all.
He'd been dead for a while.
Dan grimaced at the gory scene. The man's features had been torn off and eaten, his stomach eviscerated. His neck and arms were bent at irregular angles. Dan gazed up at the water tower, then back at the ground. The man had either jumped or fallen.
Either that, or the creatures had somehow gotten up and torn him down.
Dan noticed a larger horde in the distance. It looked like this group had broken off from the pack. He envisioned them surrounding the base of the water tower, pawing at the rungs of the ladder. He could only imagine the victim's terror.
The infected had broken away from their meal and were starting toward him. Dan covered his mouth, giving the scene one last glance, then jogged back to the car. The red letters on the water
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