Contamination: Dead Instinct (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Objects seemed to appear in front of him in the dim lighting. He vaulted over a waiting line rope, then an overturned cash register.  
    Still no sign of the group he'd been with.
    No clue as to where to turn.
    The creatures were inside the building now. He could hear them thumping and knocking into the objects behind him, navigating the same path he'd run seconds before. Without clear direction, he'd be overtaken.
    He ran blindly in the dark, each step bringing him further from the light, and hoped he was going the right way. He tried to create a mental picture of where the rest of the group had gone, but in his panic, he couldn't remember.
    His hands bumped a counter. He groped along the side of it, feeling for a way around. The creatures hissed behind him. Could they see in the dark? Or were they as blind as he was? He needed to find an opening. His hands slid over papers and candy boxes and overturned telephones, and the noise made him cringe.    
      All at once he found a shattered display case and he wedged himself through the middle. Shards of glass pricked his legs. The things were right behind him. There was no time to run—only time to hide. He scooted on hands and knees until he'd made it through the opening. Then he huddled against the wall behind the counter.
    His hands shook as he listened to the things all around him.
    Something crashed into the other side of the counter. The thing cried out in frustration, sending a shower of candy boxes off the top of the counter. Food pelleted the floor. Several of the candies bounced off his legs, and he drew up his knees, trying to avoid the debris.
    Once the shower of food had ended, he uncovered his face and wielded the knife in front of him. The creature on the other side of the counter had moved farther away, joining a stampede of others as they paraded through the theater.
    The things were multiplying. It was as if the creatures had telepathy, and they'd broadcasted the survivors' location over some infected brainwave, luring their counterparts to the building.
    Isaac trembled as he listened to the commotion. From somewhere deep in the theater, he heard the patter of gunshots, then the cries of men on the move. A second later, he heard a blood-curdling scream.
    The footsteps of the infected had waned. He could hear a few of the creatures stumbling around in the dark lobby, but none sounded like they were in the immediate vicinity. He bit his lip.
    It was time to move.  
    He rose from his perch on the floor, his heart knocking in his chest. He stared across the room at the windows that lined the front of the building. A few of them had been shattered, and he could see daylight in the distance.  
    He needed to get to it. The longer he stayed in the dark building, the closer it became to his tomb. He walked several steps, feeling in front of him, searching for the shattered display case that had admitted him. He finally found it, and he knelt down to worm his way through.  
    He'd just started to crawl when a pair of hands grabbed him.
    Loud, uneven breathing filled his ears, and the smell of blood savaged his nose. Isaac pulled back instinctively, trying to free himself, but one of the creatures had him in its grasp. It tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer, and he cried out and thrust with his knife.
    The thing flailed to the side. Isaac's jab missed, and the tip of the blade rammed into the display case. He reared back for another strike. He could feel the creature's hot breath in his face, like a vortex threatening to suck him in.  
      He stabbed again. This time his thrust connected, and a spurt of wet fluid hit him in the face. Isaac flung himself backward, escaping the thing's clutches, crashing into the wall. His shoulders stung from the impact. Before he could take to his feet, the thing had clambered through the opening.
    It was coming after him.  
    Isaac scrambled backward. The creature was little more than an outline, a mass of smell and movement.