Dead State Box Set [0-5]

by Shupert, Derek

  “Come on, boy, let it go.” Duke halts his pursuit and comes back to my side.

  The weeds turn to pavement. The trash stewing in the dumpster seems to be the source of the atrocious smell. I was thinking of food, but not anymore. Doesn’t seem to be bothering Duke any, though. He sniffs around the base of the trash and hikes his leg. My feelings exactly.

  The back door to the building is on the other side of the dumpster. It’s ajar. Blood trails out and around to the opposite side of the store.

  As we approach, I notice bloody hand prints around the door handle and wall. Not what I wanted to see. We could stop, get back to the truck, and make for the next station, but it could be just as bad, or worse, we could run out of gas and get stranded out here.

  We’re here, and haven’t seen any chasers roaming around. We just need to keep our eyes peeled and ears open.

  “Stay close,” I quietly speak to Duke.

  Grabbing the door, I gently pull it open far enough for us to get in. Duke goes first, and I follow close behind. The back room is dark and quiet. Some light from the store’s main area shines through the two small windows on the double doors on the opposite side of the stockroom.

  Water drips from somewhere, adding to the already creepy ambience. I reach for my pack to get my flashlight, but remember that it’s in the cab of the truck. I’ve got my phone in my pocket and a flashlight app that will have to do.

  I pull it out and turn it on. Surprisingly enough, the phone gives off a good bit of light. It’s not as good as the flashlight, but beggars can’t be choosers at this point.

  Bringing the phone up, I pause and sweep it over the periphery of the stockroom. There are all sorts of boxes and other miscellaneous junk scattered all over the stockroom’s floor. It’s in complete disarray. Looks like looters or whoever have already searched the area. Twelve packs of soda lay dented and dispersed on the unkempt off-white linoleum floor. Among the mess are crushed Twinkie packages.

  I catch sight of the blood and follow it with my light. It veers off to the left. Duke’s tail wags.

  “You got something?” I ask, carefully walking over to where he is.

  I shine the light, and find Duke just staring at what seems to be a janitor’s closet. Blood is smeared all over the door with streaks running in every direction. I grab him by his collar, and gently pull him to the side. I’m debating on whether or not I want to open the door. It’s hard to tell what’s lurking on the other side. Whoever it is, the likelihood of them being injured appears to be high. The problem is, have they been bitten.

  “What do you think, boy? Should I op-”

  The door bursts open, knocking me backward into a tower of boxes. The Remington is freed from my hands. Duke growls at whatever emerged from the closet. His aggressive barking is quickly muffled by the door slamming shut, and sealing him inside the confined closet space.

  “Hey, pal, if you’re here to try and kill me or whatever, it’s not going to work out too well for you.” A man tosses the boxes that are on top of me to the side, and grabs me by my shirt. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t kill-” He stops and just stares at me.

  I don’t say a word. Not sure if it’s because I’m scared to death or just don’t want to get this guy any more riled up than he already is.

  “You’re just a kid,” he states in surprise. He releases my shirt and stands up. He’s dressed in some camo military clothes. Some blood has stained his top right chest area—more than likely from whomever the blood belonged to on the outside of the door.

  “You alone?” he asks as he holds his hand out.

  I take it and get back to my feet. His lip is busted and his cheek bruised.

  “No. My friend is outside. We’re looking for some containers to fill up with gas.”

  “Sorry about that. I got jumped by a few pricks, and then had some of those things chase me in here,” he says as he points to the cramped closet behind him. “You haven’t seen any of them out there, have you?”

  “No one is out there. Chasers or otherwise,” I say. Duke barks and claws at the closet door behind him. “Can I let my dog out now?”

  “Yeah, sure. Wait, it’s not going to attack me, is it?” he hesitantly asks.

  “Well, you were kind of an a-hole and all so I make no guarantees.” The man narrows his eyes at me. His brow furrows and lips purse together. I stride over to the closet, where Duke is scratching at the interior of the door with his claws. I grab the doorknob and twist. Duke bolts out and rushes toward the stranger. His ears are lowered, his teeth visible from under his snout as he growls at him.

  “It’s ok, boy. For now, he’s cool.” It takes Duke a minute, but he finally eases up and sits down. He stays close to my side, rubbing against my leg, while keeping his eyes on the man. I retrieve my Remington from the floor and toss it back over my shoulder.

  He looks toward the double doors and back over his shoulder to the exit.

  “Expecting someone?”

  “No. Just keeping an eye out for, what did you call them? Was it chasers?”

  “Yeah. At least, that’s what they were called on this video me and my friend watched,” I respond with a nod. “We didn’t see any out there, but they can pop up pretty quickly.”

  “Yeah, well, I really don’t want to hang around here for too long. Especially without a gun.” He cuts his eyes toward the Remington.

  I grip the strap a bit tighter, holding it close to me.

  “Don’t worry, kid, if I wanted to take your gun, I would have.”

  That’s true. He had me dead to rights on the ground and could’ve done whatever. Doesn’t mean I trust him, though. “I’m James. This is Duke.”

  “Tony.”

  We shake hands this time, bridging the recent awkward gap.

  “Do you know if the store out there is clear?” I inquire with a nod in the main store’s direction. If any were inside, we would’ve already found out with the racket we were just causing.

  “No clue. I never made it inside. This is as far as I got.” Tony glances back to the double doors.

  “I need to find the controls to the pumps so we can get the gas flowing. I’d think it would be behind the counter at the front.”

  “You’ve got a vehicle out there?” Tony inquires as he cuts his eyes back to me.

  I pause before responding. I don’t exactly want to give up too much more than I already have. Right now, that truck is the only thing that I have in order to get to my mom and Cindy, and I’m not sure if he is fishing for what we may have.

  “We do a couple of miles back. Ran out of gas on the highway. Not sure if that’s it or if there was something else wrong with it.” I allow the lie to flow from my lips as if it’s the truth.

  Tony nods, his eyes lingering in my direction. I can’t tell if he’s buying what I’m telling him, or if he’s plotting to kill me and Dawson. I hate to think wrong of people, but when things go south, good people can do bad things.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a hand,” Tony finally says as he heads toward the double doors.

  I’m glad he’s in front of me and not behind. I slip the Remington free from my shoulder, and we follow his lead.

  Tony pauses at the door. He looks through the small window. His eyes roll from side to side. Duke groans a little, yawning and scratching his coat.

  “You know how to use that gun, kid?” Tony inquires.

  “Yeah, I’m a crack shot with it.” I may be over embellishing skillset some, but he doesn’t know that. “Do you see anything?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing in there. Stay close to me and watch our backs.” Tony pushes the door open. The hinges squeak in the cold, dead silence. He puts one foot in front of the other carefully and heads out into the store. I give one last look back down the stockroom before heading out as well.

  Tony pauses while he holds the swinging door open for me. “You coming, kid?”

  “My name is not kid. It’s James,” I flatly respon
d.

  “Well, James, don’t get too trigger happy and shoot me in the back with that rifle.”

  I place my hand on the door as Tony continues on. He seems to be a bit of prick, but that’s something I can look past for now since he is giving me a hand. Duke doesn’t care for him much either. I can hear him growling every so often under his breath as he stares at him.

  We move out into the main part of the store, staying close to the refrigeration units along the wall. Drinks, food, and other items litter the floor. They’re crushed and ripped open, their contents spread all over the sticky white linoleum flooring. Shelves are barren of anything I’d want to investigate further.

  The lights flicker for a moment. The store becomes dark, then slowly grows bright once more as we near the front.

  “What was that?” I stop cold. The Remington plays over the open space as my hands tighten around the forestock.

  “The backup generator might be on the fritz. Let’s just hurry up and get this done.” Tony stops suddenly, halting me with his hand. He points to the ground with his finger. A pool of blood sweeps off to the left and around one of the shelves.

  “Wait right here,” he whispers.

  I grab Duke by his collar and hold him near me as Tony inches toward the end of the aisle. By now, I’m just ready to get this done, and get back outside, so we can pump this gas and be on our way.

  Tony pauses briefly, and then moves out. Duke and I slowly work our way up the aisle and stop. I glance around the shelving, and find Tony kneeling next to a man lying face down. He’s feeling his neck. I can’t tell whether the man is alive or not, but from the amount of blood pooled under his body, I would say no.

  “Is he dead?” I whisper.

  “Yeah, he’s pretty dead,” Tony replies sarcastically. He strips the corpse free of the knife that’s attached to his hip. “Wait right there while I get the gas ready to pump.”

  The lights flicker again and go out. The emergency lights flood the interior in a red hue from the corners of the store. There’s still a good bit of daylight coming in from the outside, but the front counter looks to be in the dark.

  “Christ, can I not catch a break,” Tony grumbles. Flipping the blade about, with the serrated edge facing outward, Tony approaches the counter with caution. He stops, then peers over the counter.

  Duke groans and moans, then starts to growl under his breath as he twists his head back.

  “What is it, boy?”

  He breaks free from my grasp, and runs back to the double doors, disappearing from sight.

  “Duke?” I quietly yell. “Duke, come here now!”

  I start after him. I hear some rustling from within the coolers next to me. I take a few steps back and train the Remington at the refrigeration units. I scan over each section, trying to see what caused the sound. With the power out, the coolers are partially lit; leaving most of the units in the dark.

  Click... click!

  I track down the noise to the third cooler down from where I am and crack open the door. Cool air rushes out and brushes against my skin, sending a chill over my body.

  Click!

  The fan in the upper right corner twitches back and forth, but doesn’t budge. Guess with the power going out it messed it up or something. Not that this place looks like it’s in top running condition anyway.

  “James?” Tony says aloud.

  “Yeah, sorry. Duke ran off after something, and I was going after him,” I glance back in Tony’s direction.

  “I got the pumps primed and ready. We’re good to-”

  A figure emerges from the shadows of the small kitchen that’s adjoined to the front counter and rushes Tony. It grabs him and forces him back up against the wall. It’s teeth chatter as it tries to get closer to him.

  I bring the Remington up and try to get a clear shot of its head. Between it being dark and the figure thrashing about, I can’t line up a clean shot.

  “I am seriously about done with this day,” Tony growls as he stabs the man multiple times in the stomach. It does little to phase the corpse who’s still surging forward. “You got a shot, kid?”

  “If you can get a little bit of space between him and you, then I think I can take him down.” I struggle to obtain a clear shot.

  The glass behind me shatters as something explodes out of the cooler and lands on my back. Its bulk knocks me hard into the shelving in front of me. Bottles of coke bounce off the floor. Some puncture and spray the sticky beverage all over me.

  “Hold on, kid,” Tony shouts. The chaser grabs me from behind and pulls me free from the shelves.

  Its warm breath brushes over my neck as it pulls me in closer. I struggle to break free, ramming my elbows into its side and thrashing about. Tony’s still fighting with the chaser behind the counter. I only get a brief glimpse before it places its hand across my face, distorting my view.

  “Duke!” I yell, but my voice is muffled from its grungy fingers across my lips.

  Tossing my head back in a frenzy of panic, I connect with its face and break its hold. I fall forward to the ground and scavenge through the smashed junk food in search of the Remington.

  It should be right here close to me. Items that were on the shelf now litter the floor, making it hard to locate the gun.

  There it is!

  I knock the flattened bags of chips and open packages of candy out of the way, and grab the Remington. Getting to my feet, I bring the rifle to bear and fire. The blast tears half of the chaser’s face off, its flesh splattering against the glass.

  The chaser stumbles backward, but doesn’t go down. I ready for another shot. Tony stabs it in the forehead and releases the blade.

  “Save your ammo,” he says winded.

  It crumbles to the floor, its mouth opening and closing a few more times before stopping.

  “Nice work, kid. You held your own pretty good. There for a moment, I thought for sure you were a goner.” Tony pats me on the shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I place my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

  “Where’s that dog of yours?” Tony inquires as he looks to his right, then left.

  “I’m not sure. Duke!” I call once more, craning my neck to see if I can spot him.

  He bolts around the corner. As soon as he spots me, he slows his pace and folds his ears down. He creeps up to me and glances up, giving that sad puppy dog look. I scold him with my finger. I’m pissed, but more so for the fact that I was afraid something had happened to him.

  Bending down, I rub the crown of his head as he licks my face. “Don’t do that again boy, ok?” A single bark and a lick to my hand shows he complies.

  “Well, now that you and Lassie have gotten that straightened out, let’s get out of here.” Tony grabs the blade buried deep inside the chaser’s skull and places his boot on its face. A single yank and it comes free. He wipes the thick blood off on its shirt and places the blade back into its sheath.

  “Are you ok?” Dawson asks as we come out through the front doors.

  “We’re fine. Had a run in with a few chasers, but we took care of them,” I respond while pointing to myself and Tony.

  “I can see that. You got some blood on your face.” Dawson rubs his index finger up and down on his right cheek as his gaze shifts to Tony.

  I lift my shirt and swipe it across my face, trying to remove the blood that apparently splattered on me. Hopefully, none of it got inside my mouth. Would that even matter?

  “Who is this?” Dawson’s hand tightens a bit more over the Berretta.

  “Tony; Dawson. Dawson; Tony,”

  “Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony says, extending his hand.

  “Yeah, likewise.” Dawson cautiously shakes his hand, his eyes narrowing at me.

  “We got the pumps turned on and ready to go. Did you find any gas cans or containers?” Tony looks down at the ground and past Dawson.

  “I haven’t found any yet. There’s a Humvee over there I haven’t gone through yet. I he
ard a gunshot from inside the store and rushed back over here. I thought something had happened to you.” Dawson glares at me.

  “Man, I’m surprised the Humvee is still here. I thought for sure they would’ve taken it,” Tony says as he walks off toward the truck. “Be right back.”

  “Where the hell did you find that guy?” Dawson whispers. His voice is laced with revulsion.

  “He was in the stockroom of the store inside a closet. I guess some guys jumped him or something like that and some chasers were after him as well.” I point back to the store.

  “Dude gives me the creeps. Looks shady and all.” Dawson briefly cuts his attention back over his shoulder to Tony, who’s looking at one of the vehicles.

  “Well, he just saved my life, so I’m willing to give him a chance.”

  “You didn’t tell him about the truck, did you?” Dawson narrows his eyes as he waits for my response.

  “I told him that it broke down a few miles back, and that we weren’t sure if it ran out of gas or if it was something else,” I inform, somewhat irritated by the question.

  “Okay, good. You might trust him, but I don’t. For all we know, he could kill us and take it.” Dawson’s tone increases with every word as he throws his hands up into the air.

  “Will you chill the freak out,” I snap. I grab his arms and pull them back down. “The only person here acting like a psycho is you. Maybe he’s just trying to get out of town as well. For now, let’s give him a chance. If we see it’s going in the wrong direction, then we’ll cut him loose, okay?”

  “All right man, but I hope you’re right,” Dawson replies with a shake of his head. “This is all on you, James.”

  “Fair enough,” I counter with a shrug.

  “What does Duke think about him? That dog seems to have a good judge of character.” Dawson shifts his gaze down to Duke who’s sitting by my side.

  “He’s still on the fence with him, but he was the same with you when we first met if you remember. Now he’s accepted you. Mostly.” I smile at Dawson and gently punch him in the arm as he tries to not smile back.