Dead State Box Set [0-5]

by Shupert, Derek

  I whisper into Dawson’s ear, beseeching him to do as instructed. The man’s intense gaze is deadlocked onto us as he points to the ground.

  “Are they ready?” Roy asks over his two-way radio.

  “Don’t test me, boy. You will regret it,” the man threatens. Dawson turns his head to the right in Tony’s direction, who has the barrel of a rifle pressed against the back of his head. After a few seconds of pondering the alternative, Dawson steps out.

  “Yeah, boss man. Got them heading over right now.”

  “Good. Send them over to the pit. Hopefully, soldier boy has had enough time to make the right call,” Roy says. “For those boys’ sake, anyway.”

  The man to our left grabs Tony by the shirt and throws him forward. “Move it, military man.”

  Pissed, Tony stops, and turns around. He walks toward the man. The butt end of a rifle hits him in the face. The impact rattles Tony, dropping him to one knee.

  “Chill it, big man, before you get your compadres killed over there.” The man presses the barrel of his rifle against Tony’s head. Two more guns click from behind us, the sound of the weapons sending a tremble of fear down our spines. “Now move!”

  Tony complies without any further objections. The man’s gun stays fixed in the middle of Tony’s back.

  We’re led through the thickness of the damp, cool night air through the tall weeds. Two bright lights illuminate the ether of darkness up ahead.

  “What is the pit?” Dawson whispers. “Pits are never a good thing.”

  I nod in agreement. “If we stay calm and don’t do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” I’m not sure I believe that, but I want to keep Dawson from freaking out. Just wish I had someone to stay any impulses I have.

  Roy huddles underneath the bright lamps with some of his men. He swats at the insects that are drawn to the light’s radiance.

  Roy waves us over as he dismisses his men with a flick of his hand. They fan out, keeping their rifles pressed to their chests as their shadowed faces create a frightful silhouette.

  “Morning, boys,” he says. His voice is laced with jubilee. “I trust everyone slept well and took that time to make some really smart decisions.”

  We stay silent. Our eyes pointed toward the dirt as we’re halted by fingers grabbing our clothes a few feet from the pit. I can hear something moving within the hollow opening, but I can’t see what it is. I gulp.

  Roy waddles over. He tosses his arm over Tony’s neck and says, “So, tell me something good. Something that I want to hear.” He leans in closer to Tony, and tilts his chin down some and slightly to the right.

  “I’ve got nothing to tell you,” Tony flatly responds.

  Roy nods.

  I gulp louder as he glances toward us.

  Roy removes his arm from around Tony’s neck. He pats him on the shoulder, and motions to one of the armed guards to his left. “Give me your side-arm.”

  The guard complies.

  Taking the weapon, Roy comes over to us. Duke growls, baring his fangs and folding his ears back. Roy points at Dawson.

  “Come here, boy.”

  “Uh, no. I’m good right here,” Dawson says as he scooches close to me.

  “I don’t recall asking.” Roy nods to the guard to my right.

  He grabs Dawson by the arm and drags him over to Roy. Stiff and rigid, his arms by his side, Dawson stands perfectly still.

  Wielding the pistol in his left hand, Roy glances at Tony. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  Tony’s fists clench tightly as he narrows his eyes at Roy. “Let the boys go. This is between you and me. They have nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Wrong place, wrong time.” Roy brings the pistol up and presses the barrel flush against Dawson’s temple. “Last time I’m going to ask. Give me what I want, and you and these boys are free to go. Simple as that.”

  Dawson’s tremulous voice squeaks. “Come on, Tony. Just tell him, will ya?”

  “Yeah, Tony. Just tell me,” Roy quickly adds.

  The muscles in Tony’s arms contract. He goes to speak, then stops.

  “To be honest, I’m not a kid killer,” Roy says as he lowers his gun. “You got me. You called my bluff.”

  I exhale a deep sigh of relief as Dawson cuts his eyes over to me. His face is flush, beads of sweat racing down from his hairline as Roy hands the pistol off.

  “I’m a sporting man. I believe everyone should have a chance in this world. Regardless of who they are.” Roy aggressively grabs Dawson’s wrist. He shoves him backward toward the pit, stopping him just shy of the opening.

  The chasers inside the pit of doom whip up into a feeding frenzy. Their insatiable pleas for Dawson’s body radiate from the gaping hole.

  Dawson yelps. His eyes go wide with shock as his body leans over the gaping hole.

  “Wait!” Tony shouts as he reaches for him.

  “Now, I am done messing around. You give me what I want, or I will drop this kid into this pit.” Roy foams at the mouth, spit spewing from his lips like the chasers do when spotting their prey. “Perhaps the chasers that I have down there will cushion his fall.”

  “James, do something!” Dawson pleads as his free arm grabs at Roy.

  “You got two seconds to make your mind up,” Roy threatens. “One... Two-”

  The report of a rifle crackles in the early morning sky. A low buzzing noise swarms in our direction. The single shot hits one of the armed gunmen closest to Roy, sending him stumbling backward into the pit.

  The gunmen shoulder their rifles and search for the source of the shooter. I drop to one knee and cover Duke.

  Roy releases Dawson’s arm as he drops to the ground and scurries away. Dawson struggles to keep his balance as he teeters on the edge. Tony takes two big strides and reaches out for Dawson as he falls back, and disappears from sight. Hitting the ground, Tony reaches down into the pit.

  “Dawson!” I yell as another gunshot sounds off. Another of Roy’s gunmen goes down.

  “Who the hell is firing at us?” Roy growls as he struggles to get his feet under him.

  “Not sure, but we have chasers inside the fence!” Pete screeches as he helps Roy up.

  “What the hell are you waiting for? Go take care of it.” Roy grabs Pete and pushes him forward. “The rest of you, go kill something.”

  My fingers come across a board in the grass as Roy barks orders at his men. He pays me no mind, his back is turned to us.

  The volcanic emotions stirring inside me brim on the verge of erupting into a violent display. This fat swine killed my best friend, endangered Duke, and is responsible for the crap storm that we are all swallowed up in now.

  My hands tighten around its moist edges. I pull it free from the weeds. Standing up, I charge Roy. I unleash my pent-up feelings, striking him in the side of the head with the stout block of wood.

  The impact is harsh and brutal. Roy stumbles to his left, and drops to the dirt in a heap of unconscious blubber.

  “James, give me a hand, will ya?” Tony calls out.

  He slowly pulls Dawson up from the bowels of the pit as his fingers claw at the dirt. I run over and grab his other arm. We pull him up the rest of the way and drop him to the ground.

  Panting and breathing hard, Dawson lays prone on his stomach. I plop down on my butt as Tony gets to his knees.

  “You ok, bro?” I inquire. Duke comes over and licks Dawson in the face as he rolls over to his back.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” he huffs. “All right, Duke.” Dawson pushes Duke’s face away as he gets up on his knees.

  “We need to go while we can,” I urge.

  Tony stands up, and peers into the direction of the rifle reports. “You boys go on and get out of here.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” I ask.

  “I can’t.” Tony rushes over to the slayed gunman. He relieves the dead body of his rifle and pistol. “I need to make sure they don’t follow you.”

  Dawson climbs to
his feet, and places his hand on my shoulder. “James, we have to get moving, bro.”

  I stand up as flashes from the gunmen’s rifles light up the fading darkness like fireflies. Screams of panic and distress fill the air. Dawson’s ready to go, shaking his hands as his gaze looms over the field.

  “Don’t worry, James. Everything is going to be all right, but I need for you to go, now.”

  A chaser runs toward us through the weeds. Tony shoulders the rifle and fires. He takes it down with a single shot—right between the eyes.

  “Get to your mom and sister. Be safe, boys.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Tony is gone. I can no longer see him as the darkness of night surrenders to the rising sun. The cool, crisp air brushes against my sweaty skin, sending a shiver that slithers down my body.

  The crackles of gunfire continue to sound off. Dawson collects any weapons the downed gunmen may have before we leave. Duke sniffs Roy, pawing at his unconscious body.

  “Duke, get away from him and come here, now.” I sternly pat me leg. Duke shakes his head and complies.

  “All right. We’ve got a rifle, hatchet, and some extra rounds of ammunition. Pick your poison.” Dawson shows me the weapons. I take the hatchet.

  “Ready?” I ask him.

  “More than ready. Let’s get out of here.”

  We take off running away from all of the chaos and gunfire. Duke is by my side stride for stride, and Dawson follows close behind us. We make a beeline for the buildings up ahead.

  Roy’s men are nowhere to be seen. I glance to my left, then my right. Nothing but wide-open fields with the weeds swaying from side to side.

  Visibility is getting a bit better as the sun continues to grow brighter. I can’t wait to be out of here.

  We slow and stop for a moment behind one of the buildings. Dawson doubles over with his hands resting on his knees, breathing heavy. Duke pants hard, his tongue dangling out of his mouth.

  I rest my arm against the wood siding of the building. My chest heaves out, then in as I try to refill my lungs. Winded, I ask, “Ready to move?”

  “Dawson shakes his head. “No, but we need to get while the getting is good.”

  “Agreed.” I carefully slide down the left side of the building. Duke stays by my side. Nearing the edge, my fingers wrap around the hatchets handle tighter.

  We make the corner and head down the narrow space between the buildings. Our pace quickens. We shuffle along, through the silence. We are almost in the clear. We’re going to make it out of this nightmarish place in one piece.

  A chaser bursts from an open doorway and tackles me. The impact dislodges the hatchet from my hand, leaving me defenseless.

  Dawson brings his rifle to bear, but struggles to obtain a clear shot. “I can’t fire without hitting you, James.”

  “Then hit the damn thing, will ya?” I exclaim as its rancid breath blows into my face.

  Duke bites its arm, clamping down and pulling. Blood pours from the wound, racing down its mangled arm and dripping onto me. It pulls its arm free of Duke’s mouth and backhands him, knocking him hard against the building next to us.

  “Come on, man, do-”

  Dawson rams the butt end of the rifle into its head, momentarily breaking its hold. I quickly look from side to side. I search the ground, trying to locate the hatchet. Dawson tries to strike it again, but is knocked off balance by the chaser’s wildly erratic movements.

  Still on top of me, blood flows freely from its head and mouth, splattering my face. My right hand skims across the hatchet’s handle. Staring deep into my eyes, it comes for me once more.

  I bring the hatchet up swiftly and bury the bit deep inside its skull. Its bones crunch. The trickle of blood turns into a flood and coats my face with the warm substance. Lifeless, it falls forward on top of me.

  “Dude, get this thing off me!” I yell to Dawson, feeling panicked and trapped. After a few seconds of trying to bench press the dead weight off me, the body is pulled up and tossed to the side.

  “Are you ok, kid?” an unfamiliar voice asks me.

  In shock, I lay there. My hand palms the warm, thick blood on my face as I notice a figure standing over me. I’m not sure if I want to throw up or scream right now.

  Oh, crap, what if I swallowed some. What does that mean? “Did I swallow any of its blood? I don’t know if I did. Am I going to turn?”

  “Calm down, kid, you’re fine,” the man says. He grabs my shoulders and tries to get me focused.

  “Who are you? Get off me!” I push and shove at him, scooting away in a fit of panic.

  He puts his hands in the air. “All right, kid, just calm down, and shut up before you attract any more attention.”

  Duke comes over and gingerly sits next to me. He’s got a bit of a limp to his walk, but otherwise he seems fine. He growls at the stranger as I hug his neck.

  “Christ. I’m about tired of being the piñata of the group,” Dawson growls in annoyance. “You ok?”

  “I think so.” My fingers swipe across my eyes, removing any excess blood from them.

  Dawson’s face distorts in disgust. “Oh, crap dude. That’s gross.”

  “Here,” the man says, handing me a red and black bandana.

  I take it and vigorously rub my face. “Who are you?”

  He extends his hand toward me. “The name’s Snyder.”

  A little leery, I shake his hand. “James. This is Duke. That’s Dawson.”

  Synder grips the bill of his green John Deer hat and nods. “Good to meet you, boys. Here, let me give you a hand there.” Snyder grabs my arm.

  Duke growls, baring his teeth.

  Snyder quickly releases and takes a step back.

  “It’s ok, boy.” I pat him on the side gingerly and stand up. “Why are you helping us?”

  “I’m no kid killer,” Snyder remarks. He retrieves Dawson’s rifle from the ground and hands it back to him. “Roy has taken this initiative of his too far. He had some of my good friends killed because they wouldn’t follow along with his ideology. I’ve been biding my time for the moment to strike back. Plus, I’m not about to start killing innocent Americans because of his revenge trip.”

  “So, it was you who was doing the shooting earlier?” Dawson inquires. He holds the rifle close to his chest.

  Synder turns toward Dawson. “It was. Like I said, I’m not about killing kids.”

  Gunfire ensues, which grabs Snyder’s attention and his head twists over his shoulder. He removes his John Deer hat and runs his fingers through his moist, brown hair.

  “I need to get you boys out of here before someone spots us. There’s a place in the fence that’s pretty well concealed from prying eyes.” He glances at Dawson. “You know how to handle that rifle, kid?”

  Dawson narrows his eyes at Snyder and scoffs. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage just fine.”

  “Here, I managed to grab this rifle from the belongings they brought back.” Snyder removes a rifle from his shoulder and hands it to me. It’s my dad’s Remington. “I packed a few more boxes of ammo in this pack.”

  He tosses my gear at my feet, which I quickly retrieve. “Thanks. I didn’t think I’d ever see this again.” I slip the pack over my shoulders.

  “Here, take this too.” He pulls a pistol from behind his back and hands it to me.

  “Don’t you need it?” I ask.

  Snyder pushes me to the side, pulls out another pistol, and fires a single shot. A chaser falls to the ground behind me.

  “I’ll be good. Now come on, let’s get going.” Snyder blows past me down the side of the building. I take off after him, following close behind with Duke by my side. Dawson brings up the rear.

  We stay close and shadow every step Snyder makes as he leads us through the maze of buildings. He pauses frequently to scope out the area for Roy’s men or any chasers. Even though I’d say that they have their hands full right now, I really don’t want to take the chance.

  “Snyder,
have you gotten eyes on those damn kids?” a voice crackles in over the air.

  Snyder stops and holds us up. Grabbing the radio clipped to his side, he responds. “Not yet. Been dealing with those things mostly. Has anyone had a visual on their last whereabouts?”

  “They were last spotted running through the field to the east toward the buildings,” the man replies.

  “Oh, crap, dude. They’re still looking for us. We need to get out of here now,” Dawson says in a panic.

  “Chill out, man. Stay calm and keep it together,” I remark.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye- watch out!” Snyder fires his gun behind us. The bullet zings past Dawson who falls to the ground in a panic. It grazes a man who is charging our way on the arm.

  Snyder engages.

  The two men collide. The sounds of struggle come from both as Snyder is pushed backward against the building. We keep our distance as they fight. Duke runs to intervene, but I stop him. I don’t want him to accidentally get hurt in the process of helping.

  “James, I think we should get going while it’s good,” Dawson says while getting to his feet.

  My arms go up in the air. “We don’t know where to go. Without him, we’re just wondering around.”

  Snyder is punched in the face and thrown to the ground. The man wraps his arm around Snyder’s neck, and yanks him off the ground, squeezing with all his might. Snyder looks in our direction as he rams his elbows into the man’s sides again and again.

  The man releases his hold. Snyder takes a step forward and throws his right elbow into the man’s face. Grunting in pain, the man clamps his hands to his face as he stumbles backward.

  With one fluid motion, Snyder zips about and discharges his firearm. He puts two in the man’s chest and one in the head.

  Snyder grips his throat and says, “All right, come on.”

  “Dude, that was badass and kind of scary at the same time,” Dawson whispers to me.

  “It was,” I respond.

  Snyder continues to massage his throat as he walks past us. He doesn’t really say much of anything, looking beyond the building’s edge and out over the open field. I can see a thin stream of blood trailing down from the top of his forehead and dripping from his chin.