Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

by Shupert, Derek

  STAY ALIVE

  A POST-APOCAPYTPIC SURVIVAL THRILLER

  DEREK SHUPERT

  Copyright

  Stay Alive

  Copyright © 2021 by Derek Shupert

  Cover design by Derek Shupert

  Cover art by Covers by Christian

  Cover Copyright © 2021 by Derek Shupert

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For information contact :

  Derek Shupert

  www.derekshupert.com

  First Edition

  Contents

  Also by Derek Shupert

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

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  Also by Derek Shupert

  About the Author

  Also By Derek Shupert

  THE COMPLETE BRINK OF EXTINCTION SERIES :

  SUDDEN IMPACT

  STAY ALIVE

  GET HOME

  THE COMPLETE SURVIVE THE FALL SERIES :

  POWERLESS WORLD

  MADNESS RISING

  DARK ROADS

  TOTAL COLLAPSE

  FIGHT BACK

  THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES :

  DEAD STATE : CATALYST (PREQUEL)

  DEAD STATE : FALLOUT

  DEAD STATE : SURVIVAL ROAD

  DEAD STATE : EXECUTIONER

  DEAD STATE : IMMUNE

  DEAD STATE : EVOLVED

  THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES BOX SET

  THE HUNTRESS BANE SERIES :

  THE HUNTRESS BANE (SHORT STORY)

  TAINTED HUNTER

  CRIMSON THIRST

  THE COMPLETE BALLISTIC MECH SERIES :

  DIVISION

  INFERNO

  EXTINCTION

  PAYBACK

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CORY

  The sky blackened and the tempest raged. Lightning crawled across the dark abyss like white, glowing veins, illuminating the ether before the nimble jet. Thunder rumbled in the distance, twisting my gut into a knot.

  I closed my eyes, gulped, then gripped the phone even tighter in my hand. It was the only link I had to my wife, Janet.

  Anna, my companion on this peerless journey, sat in the seat next to me—calm and collected. Not a bit of worry lingered on her young, flawless face.

  “How are you so calm?” I asked, white knuckling the arm of my chair.

  “It’s just a bit of turbulence.” The slight distortion from the headset made her voice sound more robotic than human. She looked my way, adjusted the strap of the seat belt across her thin waist, then pulled it tighter. “All part of flying through a storm. It’s always bumpy.”

  “If you say so. This seems to be a bit more than just regular turbulence to me.” I shoved the phone deep into the front pocket of my jeans and tightened my seat belt.

  The pilot thumbed the battery of switches and knobs on the dash before him. His other hand kept a firm hold on the yoke, fighting to maintain our current course. He spoke into the mic attached to the headset, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

  “Hey. Is everything all right up there?” I called over the tumult outside of the plane and the roar of the engine.

  The gauges dimmed, then flickered. He tapped the glass fronts with the tip of his finger.

  I leaned forward in my seat and grabbed his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  He pointed out of the split windshield at the violent storm that waited for us. “That’s what’s wrong. I’m getting a bunch of interference that’s wreaking havoc on the avionics and communications. Make sure your seat belts are locked and secured.”

  “Meaning?” I shot back, my tone rising an octave.

  “Meaning that we need to get out of this mess or it’s not going to end well,” he answered.

  Anna tilted her head back, then sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

  I leaned back in the seat, then sniffed. The foul stench of rotten eggs or sewage assaulted my nose. “Yeah. What the hell is that?”

  “Sulfur maybe. I don’t know,” Anna answered, her face contorted in disgust.

  “Why would we be smelling sulfur?” I shot back, confused.

  She shrugged. “There could be something burning. Not sure. It can’t be good, though.”

  A loud clap of thunder shook the heavens, stealing my breath. My heart skipped a beat. The hairs along my arms stood on end.

  I cowered in my seat, then peered out of the window. Long snaking lines of hot-white lightning burst in the dismal sky like fiery explosions next to the plane. Odd--gray snowfall fell, coating the outside of the window.

  The lights in the fuselage died, then flicked back to life. The turbulence grew more violent, hammering the jet to its metal skeleton.

  The pilot’s hands shook with worry as the plane tilted toward the ground. He pulled back on the yoke, trying to keep the nose of the aircraft stable and in the air.

  A klaxon filled the fuselage. Dark, red lights flashed on the dash.

  “Shit. Are we going down?” I asked, my voice rising an octave.

  The pilot held his tongue, focusing on keeping the bird in the air and finding a way out of the furor they’d flown into.

  A layer of gray snowfall coated the windshield. The rubber ends of the windshield wipers swiped from side to side, knocking it away from the glass.

  What is that?

  “Can you find a way out of this mess?” Anna asked, her voice thick with worry.

  “I’m trying, but—”

  The engine coughed, then stalled. The interior lights running along the ceiling and on the dash died. The propellers wound down, sending the aircraft plummeting toward the earth.

  Acid bit the back of my throat. A wave of adrenaline made me lightheaded. I closed my
eyes and mumbled a prayer under my breath.

  Thunder exploded every few seconds, rattling the powerless aircraft. My fingers gripped the ends of the arm rest and curled under the slick metal.

  The pilot ripped off his headset in a fury, then dumped the headset into the black space between his seat and the cockpit. “Make sure you’re strapped in and secured back there. I’m going to have to make an emergency landing.”

  Oh, shit.

  Anna pulled her headset off, then threw it to the floor. She shouted at me, but I couldn’t grasp what she said. Her hand smacked my bicep, trying to steal my attention from the window.

  The nose of the plane plowed through the dark swollen clouds ignited by blasts of white lightning and rumbling thunder. I gripped the armrest of the seat tighter, preparing for impact.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SCARFACE

  Even the most powerful men plead when you put their feet to the flames.

  Jackal dragged Andrès’s bloody body across the rich tile floor by the scruff of his collared shirt. The flashlight in his hand illuminated his bloody face and clothing. His head sagged, chin pressed against his chest as his knuckles scraped over the smooth surface.

  The recessed lights in the ceiling flickered, then vanished. Darkness laid claim to the inside of the spacious, luxury home, cloaking any and all as shadowy figures.

  “Please. You don’t have to–do this. I’ve got money. Lots of money.” Andrès lifted his arm, reaching for Jackal’s wrists. Thin lines of blood ran from the corner of his lips and down his chin. The feeble attempt to break Jackal’s hold made the aged gangster look even more pathetic. “I–imagine we can make–some sort–of deal here.”

  “Why do they always beg like dogs in the end instead of facing what’s to come like a man?” Jackal tossed the broken and beaten man at my feet.

  “For some, meeting the end is never easy. Once you’ve been the king of your own world, it’s hard becoming a peasant,” I replied, looking down at his bloody rags. I trained the small Maglite I pulled from my coat pocket at the back of his head.

  Andrès lay prone on his stomach, his face a scant inch away from my dress shoes. “What do you want? Who sent you?” he asked in a whimper. “You’ve killed all of my men and have left me exposed against rival gangs. Why have you done this? Who hired you?”

  Jackal stood watch like a sentry, scanning the large bay windows and dark hallways for any movement with his flashlight.

  I slipped my shoe under Andrès’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back. “I’m going to keep this short and to the point, seeing as my business associate and I are running on a tight schedule. Lawson and his companion, where are they going?”

  “I–I–” Andrès stumbled over his words. “I don’t know.”

  “Wrong answer.” I smashed his hand with the heal of my shoe.

  Andrès wailed in pain, screaming with his eyes clamped shut.

  I kept the pressure on and dug into his hand. “Again, where is Lawson and the girl heading?”

  “I don’t know, all right,” Andrès said through a painful cry. “All I know is that he wants to get back to his wife and kid and needed to use my plane. He never said where they were going, and I had no intentions of letting him use it anyway.”

  Jackal dipped his chin, stared at the howling man, then cut his eyes up to me.

  “The plane. How do you track it’s movements?” I removed my foot from his battered hand. “I know you’ve got some sort of beacon or GPS locator, or some other way of being able to do it.”

  Andrès pulled his arm back and cradled the damaged hand. “What? What do you mean by tracking?”

  I grabbed a handful of his sweaty hair, ripped his head back, then rammed my knee into his face.

  He flew onto his back, hitting the floor with a dense thud. He turned his head to the side and coughed. Blood spewed from his dark, red lips, splattering against the tile.

  “You’re not too good at listening, Andrès. I told you we are on a time table here, and each second you waste of mine only makes this more painful for you.” My fingers repositioned over the United Cutlery Push Dagger—a weapon I’d used many times to extract those most hidden secrets from my marks.

  Andrès coughed, writhing in pain as he rolled to his side.

  “We’re wasting time here,” Jackal craned his neck and peered through the blinds of the large window before us. The light reflected off the glass. “He could have more men inbound. We need to wrap this up and ghost.”

  “I’m working on it.” I shoved Andrès over onto his back with the sole of my shoe and stood on his arms. I lowered down and traced his face with the tip of the blade. “I know you have a way of tracking that plane of yours. Tell me now or I’m going to peel off your face, slow and painful like.”

  “All right, just stop.” Andrès shouted and pleaded.

  I pushed the dagger into his skin, drawing a line of blood that ran into his beard. “Speak.”

  “There is a GPS locator on the plane,” he answered.

  “How do you track it? Phone? Computer terminal? What?” I shot back.

  Andrès pulled and tugged at his arms, trying to free them from my bulk. I pressed down harder, causing him to wince and gnash his teeth.

  “Both, but I’m not sure how it all works.” Andrès struggled to open his eyes. The lids lifted back slowly, revealing glassy eyes filled with tears. “I had people who ran and maintained it. It’s safe to assume you’ve killed them all.”

  “Where’s the–”

  A sharp report sounded from the long hallway behind Jackal. The incoming round hammered the drywall near his head.

  I flinched, then covered my head with both arms.

  Jackal ducked, dropped to one knee, then searched for the shooter. The beam from his flashlight swept the corridor from side to side, revealing a shadowy figure lurking in the blackness.

  A lone gunman limped down the hallway with his heater trained in our direction. He used the wall as a crutch. His shoulder painted the surface with streaks of blood. “Get away from him, now.”

  Jackal popped off a single round, striking the injured man’s kneecap. His leg buckled, sending him hard to the floor.

  “Hold up for a minute,” I said, stopping Jackal from squeezing the trigger again.

  “Why?” Jackal asked, keeping the barrel of his rifle fixed at the wailing man’s skull. “That asshole almost nailed me with a head shot.”

  “Just hold on.” I removed my arms from my head, then glanced down at Andrès. “Would your man down there know how it works by chance?”

  Andrès tilted his head, looked down the hallway, then nodded.

  I whistled at Jackal.

  He peered over his shoulder at me.

  I nodded at the wounded man on his side, grabbing at his knee.

  Jackal stood and closed in on the man writhing on the floor.

  “Come on. Get up.” I stepped off Andrès’s arms, then grabbed a handful of his shirt.

  Andrès’s grimaced, face scrunched from the pain coursing through his body. He whimpered like a wounded animal. His head sunk farther into his shoulders, and he shielded his face with his bloody hands.

  Jackal closed in on the shooter with his rifle and light trained at his chest. He kicked the heater from the Hispanic man’s reach.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” the man said through his clenched jaw.

  “Sure I am. Get up.” Jackal grabbed him by the arm and helped him to his feet.

  I lugged Andrès down the hall toward Jackal and the gangster’s man. I pressed the sharpened blade of my dagger to his throat. “Where’s your security room? I imagine that’s where you’re tracking the plane?”

  “Screw you, white boy,” the wounded man replied with a snarl. “I’m not–telling you–shit.

  “Not too wise unless you want us to paint the elegant marble floor with your boss’ blood. Make no mistake, I’ll kill both of you in the worst way imaginable. You’ll experience every p
ainful second of it.” I moved the dagger across Andrès’s throat, drawing more blood. “Slow or quick. Your call.”

  “Just take them to the security room, Juan,” Andrès said.

  Juan favored his injured leg, limping down the hall. Beads of sweat raced from under his brow and down the sides of his brown-red tinted skin. “You should have put a bullet in Lawson’s forehead when we got back instead of messing around.”

  “Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve,” Jackal quipped. “Now move.”

  Juan turned and grumbled in pain. Jackal aided the wounded man down the dark hall with Andrès and myself following close behind. We skirted past the black mass of dead bodies and members of Rhys’s 2nd team who’d assisted us in breaching the house. They served their purpose–helping us to infiltrate Andrès’s home.

  “It’s up here on the right.” Juan lifted his weary arm, pointing at the smooth painted door. A light from the nearby window shone along its surface. “Hopefully, the backup generator is still running.”

  “For your sake, I hope it is,” Jackal replied.

  “Are we going to find any surprises in there?” I asked in Andrès’s ear.

  He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Like I said, you killed most, if not all of my men.”

  Jackal shoved Juan against the wall, then trained his rifle at the keypad next to the door. “Open it, now.”

  Juan narrowed his eyes. A scowl formed on his face. He turned toward the door, then thumbed the access code into the keypad.

  The door clicked, then popped open. Jackal grabbed Juan’s shirt and pushed him through the door, knocking it all the way open. Juan fell to the floor and slid across the tile.

  Jackal moved in and swept the rather large-security room for any additional men while Andrès and I waited in the hallway.

  “Clear.” Jackal lowered the rifle and waved us in.

  The gleam from the wall of monitors lit up the dark space. A wave of heat escaped from the room. The rhythmic hum of equipment running melded with a steady beeping noise.