Dead State: Survival Road (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 2)

by Derek Shupert

  Tiny granules of ash softly land on my face. My nose crinkles from the pungent odor of smoke and death that cloud the air. My fingers brush over my left cheek. I hold them out in front of me. The tips are slightly discolored with a grayish white smear.

  Lucas pats my shoulder as he walks past me. We fall back in line and scurry across the grassy field to the first structure. My gaze wanders from left to right. I soak in the silence and destruction that the chasers have brought down upon this safe haven.

  Dead bodies litter the field. Both chaser and the non-infected lay as one within the blood-soaked blades of grass. I can only imagine what sort of chaos and pandemonium ensued once the chasers gained access to the interior.

  Heavy weaponry discharging.

  The chasers tracking down their targets like predators in the wild.

  Screams of panic and terror gripping the people as they fought for their lives. It’s a hard thought to process.

  Each body we pass by, I quickly check to see if it’s a woman or young girl. I’ve thought about my mom and Cindy so much that they’re all I can see. So far, they are nowhere in sight.

  Cassie has her Berretta up and at the ready. Lucas and Cassie split apart and get to either side of the white double doors that lead to the interior of the structure.

  Lucas cranes his neck and peers inside through the dingy plastic window that is molded within the door. His head tilts slightly to the right, then to his left.

  “Well?” I ask.

  Lucas shakes his head. “Can’t see much from right here.” He stretches his left arm out and places his palm flat against the door. The shotgun trains at the seam. He carefully pushes it open.

  My fingers wrap tighter around the handle of the machete. My breathing escalates more the wider the door opens.

  Cassie steps out, wielding the Berretta with both hands, and covers Lucas as he walks in.

  I keep Duke close. I gently pat his side as we follow them in.

  The interior is partitioned off into two sections with a wall that runs down the middle of the structure. Heavy, clear plastic coverings hang from the ceiling on both sides.

  Lucas points to his right. “You two check out that way. I’ll take the left.”

  Me, Cassie, and Duke take the right side of the building as Lucas disappears past the clear plastic.

  The putrid smell of death tears at my stomach. I gag, but manage to keep what little contents are inside my stomach down. The silence grates on my nerves. The flickering lights above us taunt my already stressed mind. A part of me hopes that Mom and Cindy are not here. This isn’t a place for the living but a graveyard for the dead.

  We pause and take stock of the space. The front portion has desks lined along the walls with communication equipment positioned next to each. Soldiers lay face first in a pool of their own blood on the tops of their stations.

  I cautiously approach one of the soldiers. My machete is ready to strike if need be. The back of his head has a small hole in it. It looks as though someone shot him. I grab his shoulder, and pull him upright in his metal chair.

  His face is smeared with blood. The middle of his forehead has a gaping hole where the bullet tore through. A red foam leaks out of his mouth and nose and races down his neck. There is a bite mark on his hand. He was infected, and someone did him a favor.

  Cassie points to another set of double doors to our right and directly in front of us. “Looks like they have different wings within the building.”

  The light in the next room flickers, offering me brief flashes of what lays in wait for us. I catch site of sterile white coverings through the plastic window, but can’t see much of anything else.

  Cassie pushes the door to our right slightly ajar. She peers inside, before calling me over. “They have cots set up in here.” She pushes the door open farther, and cautiously steps inside. Duke chases after her. I follow.

  A banging noise, from the room in front of me, snares my attention. I pause.

  What if it’s Mom or Cindy? What if they’re hurt and need help?

  One cautious step after another, I press my free arm against the door and enter the space. The unpleasant smell of death remains, and increases the further in I venture.

  Heavy white sheets hang from metal hooks, separating each section. Most are splattered with a mural of blood.

  I glance to my left, and decide to check each section. One by one, I pull back the curtain to see what is on the other side. Some are empty while others have civilians and soldiers lying on the beds. Their bodies have been ravaged, torn into and ripped to shreds. It’s a grisly sight that causes me to divert my eyes, and step away.

  I catch movement to my right. The silhouette of a figure on their knees bleeds through the curtain. I train my ears and listen.

  A subtle mixture of grunts and what sounds like weeping fills my ears. A survivor perhaps? I stay vigilant and approach with care.

  The curtain is partially askew. I’m able to peek inside. There’s a woman hunched over a body. Her back is facing me. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail. From my vantage point, it kind of looks like Mom. But where’s Cindy?

  I reach for the curtain and pull it back.

  “Mom!” A jovial smile breaks across my face.

  My spirit roars back to life. The pain and anguish that I have suffered through gives way to a sense of relief that washes over me. It has been so long since I have had one of her endearing hugs, that I crave it now more than anything.

  She pauses. Her head lifts up. She turns to face me. My world falls apart.

  No. This can’t be happening. Not again. NO!

  She growls. Blood drips from her chin. She slurps up strands of chewy muscle from one of Dad’s friends that lays before her. Her eyes are filled with anger and torment. She’s lost in a hurricane of rage.

  Tears flood from my eyes as I step away. I said I needed to know either way, but now, I regret it.

  She stands up and comes out to face me. Her chest heaves. My mother is dead, and only a monster remains.

  She rushes me, ready to devour her only son.

  I bring the machete up, and bury the blade in her head. She stops and crumbles to the floor.

  I drop to my knees in a fit of grief and sadness. The machete releases from my hand and clangs off the steel grates. My fists clench tightly. The end of my nails burrow into the palms of both hands. The pain doesn’t register, only the pressure from my fingers growing tauter.

  Cassie rushes into the room with Duke. She tries to speak to me, but her words are nothing more than distant echoes that I can’t comprehend. Once more, I’ve been forced to do the unthinkable.

  My mind is consumed by hate. The reaper of souls has broken me down. He probes my resolve with his elongated boney digits. His fists pound away at what thin shred of humanity resides within me. He obliterates my innocence. His harsh reality, of the world he now roams, rushes like toxic waste into my skull.

  Perhaps if I would’ve left the cabin sooner, and not sat in my own sadness and self-loathing, I could have saved them. Just acting sooner could’ve made the difference of her being alive instead of dead. Now, I fear he has pushed me past my breaking point. I am not sure I can make it back.

  Through tearful eyes and a gut full of rage, I have now come full circle to what this world wants me to be. My contempt for the chasers, that have rid me of my childhood, has fueled the fires of hate buried inside me.

  I am no longer James, the victim.

  He is dead.

  I am now the executioner of the damned.

  And soon, the dead shall feel my fury.

  Dead State: Executioner - Coming 07-11-2019.

  CHAPTER ONE

  No. Please, God, no.

  The inner voice inside my head screams out in pain, wading in anguish that is drowning me. My face throbs with a pulsating sensation from the sadness, and complete outrage that is nothing short of a massive storm swelling up from my core.

  I cannot accept this reality. Th
is is not happening right now. Cindy is not missing, and she is not dead. She did not turn into one of the ravenous creatures that consumes flesh. My mom did not become a... chaser.

  I’m on my knees, with my dog, Duke, sitting by my side. We sit solemnly next to the dead body of the woman who raised me, the woman who loved me, the woman I had to dispatch when the virus took over her body. I whimper in utter agony.

  I view the motionless corpse through what looks like the end of a bottle—all distorted with the imagery a garbled mess.

  Cassie and Lucas, two brave souls who’ve helped me out while on my journey, speak to me. Their voices are nothing but distant sound bites that I don’t care to register. Their hands rest on my shoulders, and pull me backward. I jerk away, freeing my body of their grasp. They leave me be, and allow me to mourn my mother’s death.

  “I’m going to check the perimeter really quick to make sure we don’t have any chasers inbound,” Lucas mutters to Cassie. He doesn’t actually mutter, but the detached feeling that I have right now makes it seem like that. “We can’t stay here for too long. We need to get back on the move.”

  Boots echo off the grates, walking away from us. My attention stays focused on the body before me. Lucas leaves the medical ward section of the building.

  The hinges squeak as his bulk presses down on the grates, and fades to nothing.

  In the lull of the silence, I think about my life, my family, and my friends. Most of all, I wonder if, for some strange reason, I am being punished for some wrong that I committed. Have I pissed off some higher power to where it’s exacting its revenge by making me kill my family? By turning them into mindless meat sacks of skin and bone, hell bent on devouring the meaty strands of flesh from the living?

  It’s bullshit. One hundred percent.

  I can feel Cassie hovering behind me. She’s probably wrestling with what else to say that will soothe the devasting pain eating away at me.

  “James.” Her palm gingerly rests on my shoulder. Her fingers grip a hair tighter. “I know how much pain you are in. I am so sorry that you are going through this.”

  Sorry? Perfect word to describe me.

  I have failed my family in every way possible. I don’t care if what is happening is beyond what any grown man could fight against. My father, god rest his soul, taught me to be strong, and fight for our family. The man takes care of it all. When the crap is hitting the fan, you knuckle down, and hit right back. Protect the ones you love. I know in the end, my parents would forgive me for not being able to protect everyone, knowing that I have done the best I could. Still, I can’t forgive myself.

  My eyes divert from my mother. I turn and stand up. So much grief and pure hate fill my being that every muscle fiber in my body wants to destroy whatever gets in my way.

  I pace in a circle for a moment before I suddenly stop. I don’t know how to process my feelings. My head shakes from side to side, my brain struggling to find a way to get me back from the edge of despair.

  I point to the body with an unsteady finger. “Why? Can anybody tell me why this is happening?”

  Tears stream down Cassie’s flushed cheeks as she struggles to keep the flood of emotions from bursting free.

  She goes to speak, but nothing more than a sobbing whimper escapes her trembling lips.

  “Please tell me WHY IN THE HELL this is HAPPENING!” My hands wrap around the edges of the steel bedframe next to me. I lift up with all of my might, flipping the blood-soaked sheets and the covered body hard to the floor. It hits with a dull thud.

  Duke scrambles to his feet and moves back to where Cassie is. His tail folds under his genitals while his head lowers to the ground. His grungy yellow ears lay down as he looks up to me with sad eyes. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like that. I have failed him as well. The surge of anger that I’m already struggling with only increases at the realization.

  My breathing escalates, eyes dart all around wildly. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I need to release the anger and heartache that is pent up inside of me. A short reprieve from the damage that is being done to my soul.

  Chest heaving and my meager arms surging with a steady flow of hate, I continue on my rampage. I tip bed after bed over, and rip the antiseptic white curtains from the silver rings wrapped over the steel tubing running along each section.

  “THEY ARE ALL GOING TO DIE. MARK MY WORDS.” Spit spews from my mouth like I’m possessed. My lips are taut. My face radiates such heat that I feel like I could combust at any second. “I am going to kill each and every one of those creatures if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Cassie’s look of compassion and understanding twists to unease. Her body tenses up. Her hands swipe away the tears from her red cheeks.

  “James, please. You’re out of control,” she sternly says. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but you have to settle down, and stop creating so much racket, or you’re going to get us all killed.”

  My mind totally bypasses her words. Through the blinding fury, I throw my arms up in the air. “Am I being too loud?” I bark. “I am sorry that I am not handling this as well as you did, Cassie. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not as strong as you. Perhaps, all of the people that I have lost on this messed up trek into hell has made me hit my tipping point!”

  Cassie folds her arms across her chest. She’s definitely pissed now. Her eyes narrow at me as her boot taps the ground rapidly. Duke remains crouched by her side as a chuckle escapes her taut lips. “You know, being a complete asshole doesn’t help a damn thing here. I am sorry for all that has happened to you, but, like I said before, you’re not the only one who has lost loved ones to these creatures.”

  I point to my mom. The blood from the gaping gash in her skull coats the steel grates, dripping through the openings to the blackness beyond.

  “Did you have to kill your own parents? No, Mack did that. Speaking of Mack, did you have to strike him down because he was infected? No, he died because of ME. Because I failed to make sure that door was secure in that auto parts store. He paid with his life because of my careless actions.”

  Lucas slings open the door to the medical ward with his shotgun poised and at the ready. He stops dead in his tracks. His head swivels from left to right. “What the hell was that clatter going on in here?” His concerned expression morphs to that of confusion. He looks to the tossed over beds, then to me. “Did you do this?”

  Cassie turns sharply around on her heels. She gives me one last evil stare before heading toward the door. She pauses next to Lucas, and peers over her shoulder at me.

  “I need some air. I’ll be outside.” She continues on through the swinging door. Duke stays by her side and doesn’t offer me another look.

  “Duke, stay,” I command him sternly. He ignores my demand for obedience. “Fine. You’re probably better off anyway.”

  Lucas’s eyes widen. He lowers the shotgun, and shakes his head. I couldn’t care less what he’s thinking.

  “You’re losing it, James,” he firmly, but calmly states. “I can only imagine what you are going through, but if you don’t settle down and get control, you’re going to draw any chasers nearby to us.”

  “Let them come,” I bark in response. “I’ll kill each and every last one of them.”

  Lucas motions with his hands for me to keep my voice down. His fingers press firmly to his lips. “James, lower your voice, and get yourself under control, now.”

  I look at him through glassy, teary eyes as I hold back the sadness and guilt. I allow it to spawn into something else entirely—a monster consumed by rage that must be fed. “Or what, Lucas? You going to make me shut up?”

  Lucas clenches his teeth and shakes his head. His hands ball into a fist for a moment before he slowly releases a deep sigh. “I will do what is needed to calm you down if need be, but I don’t want to do that. So please, just take a deep breath, and bring it down a bit.”

  My eyes cut down to my mom, then to the left at the bloody mache
te lying next to her. I bend down, and grab the handle. I lock eyes with Lucas. His hand repositions over the stock end of the shotgun. He doesn’t bring it up, but he’s poised to do so if need be.

  I need some space without anyone telling me how I should be acting. For their sake and mine.

  “Forget this. I’m out.”

  Author Notes

  Written May 1, 2019

  Thanks for reading Survival Road, and my author notes. I’m thrilled that you have come along this journey with me. I’m having so much fun writing this series that it’s scary. Not scary in the fact of how James and the others are struggling with their worlds being torn apart at the seams, but scary in the fact that I have made such an emotional connection with all of the characters, especially James.

  Granted, I have never been through anything as traumatic as James, but it was still an emotional roll coaster writing his tale. When I was laying out his thoughts, and his visceral reactions to being mentally and, at times, physically assaulted, I felt myself being pulled into the pages.

  It made me look at myself and ask a simple, yet powerful question. How would I have reacted to such a horrid event. I can say for certain that I probably would struggle to stay within my right frame of mind. I’m a family man, through and through. The thought of having to do such things in order to live and push on through a post-apocalyptic world, frightens me.

  I guess that’s why the story has really resonated with so many readers. The authentic feel and the realness of the characters and the struggles they face. Yeah, I wanted to have the zombies wreaking havoc on the survivors, but I also wanted that human aspect that shows how those who’ve made it face the challenges when society has crumble and the earth is turned into a no man’s land.

  For James, he’s hanging in there and handling every little obstacle that is thrown in his way as best he can.