Dead State Box Set [0-5]

by Shupert, Derek

  Hearing the news brings a weight of sadness that drapes over me. Clint had given his life to save mine. I am here because of him. He will not be forgotten.

  He offers a warm smile, and pats my arm softly.

  “We did, however, retrieve some of the scientists that were inside the facility with you and Ms. Sanchez here. We managed to sedate one of them. A Dr. Stevens.”

  The sadness I feel for Clint quickly fades away. A sudden rush of dread consumes my body. My eyes fill with terror as I fight against the restraints. I kick my legs, and thrash my body about.

  “What have you done? You have killed us all. We can’t go back to the states. We’re all infected. If we land, we will spread the virus. Do you understand me?”

  The man puts the full brunt of his weight on my shoulders. He speaks to one of his colleagues before looking back down to me. “Ms. Price, if you don’t settle down, we will have to sedate you again.”

  “Why aren’t you listening to me?” I growl. “We are all in danger-”

  A blood curdling yelp stops me cold. Prone on my back, I lift my head up, and search for the source of the distress. Staggering through the crates and other equipment, a man dressed in military fatigues comes our way.

  He clutches his arm, hand palming the wound. Blood seeps through his fingers as terror fills his face. “Davis bit me. He freaking bit me.”

  Confused by what is happening, the man holding me releases his hands from my shoulder. He goes to the back of the plane to investigate the man’s ravings.

  The soldier walks past me, mumbling and stumbling about in a disoriented fashion. I test the straps for any way to get free. I pull and tug, but it does little good.

  Nora’s hand twitches. Then her fingers. She cocks her head to the left, and opens her eyes. She has been consumed by the virus.

  And soon, I will be too.

  The beginning of the end…

  DEAD STATE: FALLOUT

  BOOK 1

  BY

  PROLOGUE

  Duke has been on edge ever since we’ve left the house. I’ve never seen him this way before. His body is so tense, head on a swivel as his ears stand on end. They twitch and move, honing in on every single sound they pick up.

  There’s been some rustling down in the thicket below us, which is driving him crazy. He crouches down and inches his way toward the cliff’s edge. He growls subtly from deep within his chest, watching with great intent.

  “It’s ok, boy. Probably just some animal scurrying about. Nothing can get us up here. Why don’t you come over by the fire and get warm?”

  I pat my leg gently, trying to snare his attention away from the animals below.

  He looks back at me with those big brown eyes as his tongue licks around his mouth. A yawn escapes him as he stretches his front legs. He comes over to me and turns about. He faces the entrance to the cave we’re in and sits down, lowering his head to his front paws.

  I gently run my fingers up and down his yellow coat, starting at the back portion of his head and coming down to his tail. He lets out a small groan, which I can feel through my hand.

  This has been a nightly routine with us for as long as I can remember. When Dad brought him home for the first time, just a pup and full of life, we bonded instantly. Wherever I went, Duke was right there, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as we ran and played. We were inseparable.

  Now, I try to think of those happy times as much as I can. Anything to take my mind off what is happening, which I’m still unsure of. It all seems so unreal, like a bad dream that I can’t wake from.

  All the chaos.

  All the death.

  I’ve cried more this past day than I think I have my whole life. I know if my father could see me now, his response would be the same as it always has been.

  “Don’t let it get to you, son. It only has as much power to hurt you as you give it.”

  Right now, it feels as though it has all the power in the world, and I am powerless to stop it.

  The chilly night air whips about in the cold moonlight. I’m beat. I need to get some shut-eye before we get moving again in the morning.

  Hopefully tonight, I’ll get a better night sleep than last.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Saturday morning. The light from the hall creeps in through the narrow crack in my door and hits me right in the face. I knew I should have closed it all the way, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  “Come on, James, time to get up. Get showered, dressed, and head downstairs. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee going for us,” Dad yells from the kitchen below.

  I lift the covers over my head and bury my face in the pillow. It’s bad enough that I have to get up before the sun does during the week to go to school. Now, what seems like most weekends, my father wants to go hunting, hiking, or something that involves me getting up way too early.

  Duke groans and moans at the edge of my bed, trying to wake up himself. He gets to his feet and stretches. His nails rake along the sheets, his sharp claws snag the plaid pattern fabric. He nudges my foot with his nose and follows it with his paws.

  “You are so going to stop hanging out with Dad,” I mutter through a yawn. Nothing like getting a second wakeup notice from a large yellow golden retriever who doesn’t take no for an answer. “Can I get fifteen more minutes, please?”

  Of course, Duke is like my dad and doesn’t believe in the snooze button. When it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up. He never wants to sleep in.

  He grabs my blanket with his teeth and drags it down off my head. The cool air nips at my warm flesh. A chill comes over me as the rest of my body is exposed to the chilliness of my room.

  “All right, dude, I’m getting up.” I remove my head from under the pillow and peer down at the end of my bed. Duke sits there with my blanket still resting in his mouth, stiff as a board. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he probably enjoyed that.

  “Traitor.”

  Bark!

  Duke drops the blanket and gets to his feet. He turns tail and darts out the door. No doubt going downstairs to get his reward from Dad for not letting me rest any longer.

  It’s 5:35 A.M. This has to be a crime somewhere in the world. No use whining about it, though. Better get to the shower before Dad comes stomping up the stairs.

  Still half asleep, I half-heartedly get out of bed and trudge to the bathroom. The house is still dark, except for the hallway light that beats down on me. It’s just as cool out here as it is in my room. An extra incentive to get me moving quickly.

  I stop at Cindy’s room. Her princess nightlight catches the corner of my eye. She’s sleeping peacefully with her brown teddy bear, the one with a big red heart on the front, clutched tightly in her arms. She gets on my nerves on a daily basis, but seeing her sleeping makes me glad she’s around. And also, that she’s sleeping and not bothering me.

  “James, you in the shower yet? I don’t hear the water running. We’re burning day light, son. Get it in gear,” dad calls out once more.

  I yawn, and rub my eyes.

  Doesn’t it have to be daytime to burn it?

  “Getting in now,” I reply half asleep.

  The soles of my feet hit the ceramic tile of the bathroom floor. I flick the light on. The sudden shock of the large glamor lights causes my eyes to shutter. I shield my face with my right arm, as I scamper to the mat in front of the shower.

  Cold as ice. Got to love winter time in Oregon.

  I start the shower, twisting the silver handle to the hot, red side. The pipes subtly rattle in the wall while I slip my boxers off, and step inside.

  The warmth of the water nearly puts me back to sleep. Through past experience, I know if I don’t do this quickly, Sergeant Sleep Hater will be all up in the bathroom giving me the third degree. I would lock the door, but Dad doesn’t believe in locks. At least, not on bedrooms and bathrooms.

  I can just hear his heavy footsteps clomping up the stairs and down the hall toward
the bathroom. He’d test the doorknob first, then hammer the door with his fist.

  “James. You know my rule on locked doors, son.”

  Ugh. So annoying. Privacy in this house is hard to come by.

  I scrub down, and take a few minutes to enjoy the silence before turning off the water and getting out. I dry off, and quickly shuffle back to my room. The cold air is hot on my tail, causing goose bumps to flood my wet skin. I start to get dressed in my hunting gear when my computer screen turns on.

  “You up, Lady Killer?” a voice asks from the speakers on my desk.

  It’s Dawson. He stares at me with a smile on his face as he snickers.

  “Lady Killer. Somebody got jokes early in the morning,” I reply while slipping on my shirt.

  “I’m just calling you by your new name. After that stunt you pulled with Kimberly, seems fitting, dude.” Dawson laughs, which actually sounds like a snort or something. That’s about the only thing about him that anyone could possibly pick out as a turn off.

  Oddly enough, most of the girls find it charming. Perhaps, they look beyond it to his California blond surfer look and athletic stature. Plus, carrying a high GPA doesn’t hurt either. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure how many really care about grades.

  “Yeah, well, it would have worked if Steve wouldn’t have gotten in the way. I spent a good amount of time working on that poem. It took a lot of guts to not only write it, but then try to sing it to her during lunch.” I sit down on the edge of my bed, and start to slip on my boots. “Anyways, you didn’t call me to bust my balls this early. Have you been scavenging the web again for conspiracy theories of UFO’s?”

  I try to not to chuckle, but it slips out. You wouldn’t peg Dawson as one of those types who lends credit to grand stories of abductions by little green men. It’s all B.S., but don’t tell him that.

  “Actually, naysayer, I came across an article and some footage that someone shot in Gresham,” Dawson snidely remarks. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he didn’t care for me poking fun at him.

  “Of little green men running wild and the mother ship ready to beam them and their victims back for a good probing?”

  I chuckle. I do enjoy giving him a hard time. He enjoys giving it much more than receiving it though.

  “No, smart ass. This is a whole other level of weird. Like X-Files on crack.” Dawson’s eyes shift to the left.

  Laughing under my breath, I finish lacing up my boots, and grab my coat from the dark brown chair near my computer. I reach for my phone, but think twice as Dad hates it when I text on our outings.

  “Whatever. It’s probably some guys messing around, and trying to stir things up. I wouldn’t get sucked into anything.”

  “Nah, man. The article was talking about outbreaks that are popping up all over the country. Remember that plane crash that happened in New York about three weeks ago? The one where the CDC came in, and quarantined the crash site?”

  I’ve never been big on watching the news, or following the conspiracy threads on the internet like Dawson does.

  I shrug, and shake my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. You know I don’t generally watch the news, dude. I have a life, you know.”

  Dawson rolls his eyes. “Anyway, apparently, people are going all homicidal and crazy. Like attacking random folks and such. I’m talking bath salts, but amped up. They’re calling these freaks chasers.”

  “I haven’t heard anything on the news about people doing what you’re talking about,” I counter. “And chasers? Come on, man. Sounds like a made-up story to stir things up. Some media companies trying to get ratings.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve been following this, and it seems legit. Besides, the news and the government are probably trying to keep this under wraps. Can’t have the general population finding out that a deadly virus is circulating on the streets.”

  I check the time on my hunting watch that my father got me for Christmas. It can do everything under the sun, even tell me when my dad is about to blow his top. Kidding on the last part.

  “Hey, man, I got to get running. My dad’s waiting for me. I don’t need to get him irate this early in the morning.”

  “All right, man, but before you go just watch this clip that I found.” Dawson’s fingers pound away on his keyboard in a fury.

  “Daw-” I try to say but he’s gone. Logged off. There’s a file waiting in my inbox titled, People gone crazy: Volume 1. Rise of the chasers. Who comes up with this stuff?

  I go to turn off the screen. The video starts to play. I jump. My hand springs to my chest. Dang auto play feature.

  People scream and run around with a naked fear gripping their faces. The footage shakes as if it is a handheld camera.

  “Oh, my gawd, check this crap out,” the guy recording says with a horse growl.

  He zooms in on a handful of cops circling a guy that has blood all over his face and body. The camera shifts to the side some, and moves down.

  A cop is prone on his back on the ground. His face is severely bruised and swollen. The top portion of his skull is smashed in. His light blue shirt is torn open. Portions of his flesh are missing from his chest and stomach.

  “Put your hands on top of your head and get to your knees, now!” one of the cops yells.

  Now, I know this is fake and all. It seems like a low budget zombie flick that someone threw together to just shock the crap out of people.

  For some strange reason though, my heart beats a little faster—my nerves getting the better of me. These people are really selling this. And that guy the cops are surrounding, his eyes are all red and bloodshot. A distant expression of wild rage fills his face. He seems unafraid of all those guns pointed at him.

  “I am not going to say-”

  The man lunges at the police officer. Their gun discharges, triggering a salvo of bullets that tear through the man’s flesh.

  “OH, MY GAWD! OH, MY GAWD!” the man recording the dramatic footage screams. You can hear him scrambling about and breathing heavy. The camera’s video becomes distorted. “I don’t know what the hell is happening, but I’m gone. I hope this is all recorded ‘cause I’m not going to try to get anymore.”

  Silence ensues. No screams or gunfire. Just the unsettling pants of panic from the distance as the man’s breathing slows back to normal.

  The camera’s view is more stable now. It points at the concrete, but you can hear the man working back up to his feet.

  “I’m going to make sure it’s clear before I jet.”

  Bringing the camera back up and around, the man screams as a police officer’s body is laid out on the back of his cruiser. His face is covered in blood and his eyes peer deep into the lens.

  “James?”

  I nearly jump out of my skin at my dad’s voice.

  “What are you doing? I’ve been calling you for the past few minutes.”

  My eyes stay focused on the screen. I tilt my head slightly to the left, and respond. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t hear you. Dawson sent me another one of his conspiracy theory videos he found on the internet.”

  “Well, turn that mess off and come on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My dad heads back downstairs. He totally scared the crap out of me. I didn’t even hear him enter my room. Stupid video. I’m so going to get Dawson back for that. I still think it’s all bogus, but it certainly did give me a jolt of fear.

  I shut my monitor off, and grab my pack from the floor. Tossing it over my shoulder, I turn off my light and head down the stairs.

  The smell of coffee brewing, and Dad’s normal hunting breakfast, fills my nose. Mom always tries to slip the decaffeinated stuff in when Dad isn’t paying attention. Most times it works, but on occasion, he lets me have the other. Just our little secret though.

  Duke’s waiting by the door patiently, his head going from side to side, that yellow, bushy tail wagging about happily. I drop my pack, and saddle up to the bar to eat.

  Dad’s nor
mal hunting breakfast consists of three eggs, over easy, bacon that’s not too crispy, a bowl of oatmeal, and a glass of orange juice to wash it down. Protein for the hunt is what he calls it.

  There is no savoring, or taking your time to eat. You just clean the plate like it could disappear at any moment. I can enjoy it later, I guess.

  I scrape my plate for any leftover food, rinse it off, and place it in the dishwasher. Dad’s got my mug ready to go. The steam from the warm coffee billows up from the lid’s single slit. The scent grabs my nose. I inhale.

  “Come on, Duke,” Dad says as he cracks open the door.

  Duke bolts out into the chilly morning air. He runs about and sniffs for a good place to relieve himself.

  I snatch my pack from the floor, and with my coffee in hand, I head outside. It doesn’t matter how many times we go out in the Oregon winter, the chill of the cold, crisp air always seems to find a way to seep between my hunting attire. Dad tells me regularly I’m overreacting, and that it isn’t that cold. I just roll my eyes and hold my tongue.

  “I got you the good stuff this morning. Your mom has been on my case about giving you that caffeinated coffee, but a young man needs his morning jolt before a long day.” Dad lifts his arm up and flexes.

  “Yeah, well, you know Mom has a nose like a blood hound, and the instincts to go with that. When she finds out, you’ll for sure get it.” I nudge him in the side, winking at him as we watch Duke search the blades of grass.

  “What? You think I’m scared of your mother?” Dad cuts his eyes over to me. A coy smile slithers across his face.

  No response is needed. We both know the answer to that question.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You want to drive?” Dad tosses his pack into the back of the Bronco. It hits with a dull thump.

  “Really?” I respond with a hint of jubilee in my voice.

  Dad nods. “Sure. We’re going back up through the trails, so I think it would be good practice for you to drive some while there’s still some night left.”