A DEAD STATE SERIES NOVELLA
BOOK 0
BY
Copyright
Catalyst
Copyright © 2019 by Derek Shupert
Cover design by Derek Shupert
Cover art by Covers by Christian
Cover Copyright © 2019 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
Copyright
Dedication
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
DEAD STATE FALLOUT
Author Notes
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Dead State Series
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Afflicted Series
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Also by Derek Shupert
About the Author
Dedication
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To those that read my books, I thank you for your support.
Catalyst
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CHAPTER ONE
Evil is all around us, Madison. Just because it isn’t visible on the outside doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Sometimes, we have to look past the façade to truly see what’s lurking below the surface. Keep your guard up, and always remain vigilant, my sweet girl.
My father’s mantra. A man that always kept his guard up, regardless of who he was dealing with. For William Price, steadfastness was the most sacred possession a man could own. Without it, he was nothing more than a sheep.
From an early age, he drilled this bit of wisdom into my brain. “Don’t be a sheep, Madison. Be the wolf,” he’d say. Probably why it’s so ingrained into my psyche to this day. Even though he has passed, his words breathe truer now than ever. There are infinitely more sheep trotting about in this world now, oblivious to the fact that they’re being led to the slaughter. I love you, Pop.
My eyes begin to glaze over from days gone by as I stare at a picture of my father and me. One of the few I have. It was taken in Hawaii almost two years ago. His smile was genuine. Not fake like he did on most occasions.
Lightning crackles to my right, illuminating the dark swollen clouds we’re flying through. It rips me from my thoughts. I lean to my right, and glance out of the small, round window. I search for sunlight, but find none within the ghastly, gray hue that has blanketed the sky.
Thunder rumbles. The private jet rattles and acts as if it wants to fall apart. My hands white knuckle the armrest. I’ve never been a big fan of flying. Especially in crummy weather.
The jet’s stewardess stops beside me. “Ms. Price, can I get you anything?” She smiles at me with her arms tucked behind her back. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her makeup still looks pristine, even at this ungodly hour.
I grimace as the plane jostles about again. “A smoother ride would be nice.”
She continues smiling and nods. “The captain has informed me that we should be passing through the worst of the storm shortly. Can I get you another coffee or something more to eat?”
“No, thank you. I’m good.” I glance out the window, then back to her. “How much longer until we land?”
She removes the empty plate and cold coffee mug from the table in front of me. “I believe we still have roughly four hours to go.”
My body deflates.
“Please let me know if you need anything else, Ms. Price.”
I nod.
She walks past me as thunder continues to torment the ether just outside the plane. I need a distraction to ease my mind. My body is tired and spent, both physically and emotionally.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was to come out on another assignment, but Vincent did a good job of convincing me to think otherwise.
Vincent Reigns, CEO of Beacon Intl, is a long-time colleague of my father’s. My father helped Vincent on some past projects, providing insight and analysis for him. One of Vincent’s main passions, aside from his numerous business ventures, is history.
He is obsessed. He actually takes a large portion from his company, the Beacon’s, main holdings to fund expeditions all over the world. When he catches wind of a possible archeological find, he jumps on it. He spends money like there’s no possible way he’ll run out of it.
When he called me about his latest find, he did just that. Dollar signs clung to the air as I listened to him speak. Figures rolled from his tongue like water from a faucet. Mind you, I’m not hurting for money. I’m too frugal to ever lose what I have.
But bribing me with an enormous amount of money wasn’t Vincent’s angle. He took a different approach.
History.
Much like him, I am captivated by it. Probably why I ended up as a freelance archeologist and consultant. A tomb raider even. I have seen and been a part of many amazing expeditions. Unearthed finds that have given us so much more insight into the past. But this latest find was something I haven’t been a part of, yet.
My hands relax, allowing the blood to fill in the white splotches on the tops of them. I reach down to my satchel on my left, and sift through the contents inside, retrieving a manila folder. I sit up straight and open it.
Inside are photos and other documents of Vincent’s current project—an ice man that is perfectly preserved.
He has already excavated the body and taken it to one of his research centers nearby in the frozen land. Although initial reports have shown promising data, Vincent is a thorough man. Much how he valued my fathers’ input, he now looks to me for that same insight.
My involvement is simple. Once onsite, evaluate the find and determine its legitimacy.
I am excited by the notion, but to be candid, I always reserve any judgment until I have given the evidence and subject its proper due. Regardless of how much it teases me so.
For Vincent, it is much the same. A find that
would surely be remarkable. And lucrative. Even with his lust for history, his lust for wealth is not far behind.
I yawn and stretch my arms. The weather seems to have calmed down. Brief flashes of lightning flicker off in the blackness of night, but nothing more than that.
I pull the cover down over the window, and sink into the rich brown leather chair. Its heated warmth cradles me like a lover. I lace my arms across my chest and close my eyes.
My father enters my thoughts as I drift in and out of consciousness.
CHAPTER TWO
An endless sea of the past and present collide in my head. Despite the soothing comfort of the plush chair I’m in, I can’t stay the thoughts bombarding my mind.
My father’s passing.
The storm we have passed through.
And finally, the find of the century.
It’s all too much for me to brush to the side. My brain keeps processing while I try to dial it down.
Fine. The rampant thoughts stewing on the meaty parts of my intellect have won.
I sit up and stretch. My fingers reach for the ceiling as I groan. I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands, clearing the haze from my vision.
Through the window, the sun’s strident rays shine on the seat across from me. I reach over and lift up the window cover. My eyes take in the cloudless, clear blue sky. A smile breaks across my face.
Below, and just to the left of the jet’s wing, I spot my home for the next week or so—a frozen white wasteland as far as the eye can see. Void of any structures or civilization, the desolate, snow-covered land sends a shiver slithering up my spine.
“Ms. Price, we’ll be landing in roughly an hour. Mr. Reigns has your gear and attire prepared for you in the aft portion of the plane. You are free to change now if you’d like to do so.”
The stewardess holds out her arm, and directs my attention to the rear of the plane.
“Thank you. Could I possibly bother you for a cup of coffee? I didn’t get much sleep, and I need to wake up.”
She smiles and nods. “Of course, Ms. Price. Would you like any creamer this time?”
“Black is fine, with a bit of sugar.”
“I’ll prepare a fresh pot while you’re getting changed,” she responds.
She walks toward the cockpit. I unlatch my safety belt and stand up. My legs are sore from being stagnant for so long. I run my hands up and down my thighs, trying to get the blood circulating once more.
I stumble back to the overly large facilities where my winter attire awaits. Vincent was more than ready to have me on this expedition of his. He has provided all of the clothing and gear that I need in this chilled rigid weather.
I strip down to my unmentionables, and skim over the garments Vincent has provided. Each piece of raiment is bulky and overly sized. Plain in its visual appeal, the drab garment at least appears to be insulated well enough. Hopefully, it should keep the bite of the bitter cold from getting to me.
Layer by layer, I load down with the thermal vestments. There are no rags or cheaply made garments here. Every piece works perfectly with the others.
I take my clothes and load them into the black duffle that is sitting in the corner before checking myself in the mirror. My eyes are slightly puffy with a black and blue hue resting under both. I turn on the water and splash the cold liquid against my face, trying to erase the sleepiness.
The overhead speaker crackles.
“This is the captain. We will begin our final approach shortly. Please make sure that you are seated and secured.”
I dab my face with a lavender colored towel, then retrieve the duffle from the floor and exit the lavatory. The stewardess approaches me.
“Ms. Price, I have your coffee on the table for you. Can I get you anything else?”
“No. That will be all. Thank you.”
She walks past me.
I make for my seat and sit down. I stow the duffle bag under the table. The smell of the freshly made brew brings a warm smile to my face. I carefully grip the mug and softly blow over the black caffeine enriched java as my eyes cut to the right.
The ground is closer now. The detail of the snow and glaciers are more defined. I take a sip of the coffee as my eyes continue to soak in the splendor of the vast openness of the inhospitable lands. Although I am not so big on extremely cold environments, I must admit, this is quite breathtaking.
I polish off the potent brew as the plane finally lands. The tires squeal as rubber meets the tarmac. The plane jostles a bit. My hands instinctively grip the armrest.
The engines thrum as my ears pop and adjust from the change in altitude. I expel a sigh of relief, thankful that we have finally landed on solid ground.
The plane travels for a few more moments before coming to a complete stop. I gather up the documents on the table, and slip them back into the manila folder. I place the file into my satchel, and undo my safety belt.
“Ms. Price. There is a car waiting to take you to the research center. Is there anything else that I may be of assistance with today?” she inquires.
“Not that I can think of,” I respond.
She smiles and nods. “Very well. I hope you enjoyed your flight with us. Take care and have a good rest of your day.”
I smile back. “Thank you. Same to you.”
I retrieve the duffle and satchel from the floor and move to the front of the plane. The door has been retracted. The captain and first officer greet me with a smile and a simple nod. I respond in kind.
Cold air brushes against my face as I step out of the plane. An instant shiver comes over me. I grab the hood to the parka I’m wearing, and pull it up over my head before continuing down the steps.
The wind beats against me like a thousand fists. Snow blows across the pavement in a manic nature. Directly in front of me is a black Land Rover. A man, dressed in similar fashion to me, rushes up to meet me.
“Ms. Price. Welcome to Siberia.”
“Thanks. How far is it to the research center?” I respond.
“It’s about an hour drive. The terrain is a bit rough. We’ll be there before you know it, though.” He reaches out his glove-covered hands toward my duffle. “Let me stow that for you in the back.”
I hand the bag to him. He heads to the back of the SUV and pops open the rear latch. I make for the back seat of the driver’s side and hop in.
The interior is warm and comforting. I place the satchel in the seat next to me and lower the hood back down. The rear hatch closes with a dull thud as he comes around to the driver’s side. He slips inside and fastens his seatbelt.
We take off, leaving the runway in our wake. I settle in and watch the snow-covered buildings as we leave the small airport. The view from up high was amazing, but being on the ground is something else. I’ve never been in an environment where I felt as though I had been transported to another world.
I watch the bleakness of the stark land pass by, and think of the ice man that has been freed from his frozen grave. Skimming over the initial photos and reports does have me a bit thrilled, but yet, cautious.
As much as I want this to be true, I’m trying to remain objective. I’ve found in this line of work, and life in general, it’s best to be skeptical when evaluating any situation. Let the evidence present itself, and be reasonable with your conclusions.
Try to debunk it if you can. If all checks out, then great. Either way, you’ll get your answer.
CHAPTER THREE
Much like a caged animal, I yearn to be set free. All of the sitting is the one thing about traveling that I do not like. Although I’m spent, and in need of rest, I would still rather be up and moving about. Fortunately, we are nearing our final destination.
The Land Rover crunches over the icy surface. The uneven road sends the bulky vehicle from side to side as we crest an inclined snow bank. I brace myself against the driver’s seat. Both hands grip the warm leather as the research center comes into view.
I’m not sure what I was ex
pecting to see, but find the setup that Vincent has in place extensive. Roughly the size of a football field, the frozen land has been cleared away and smoothed out. Massive mounds of snow create a barrier around the perimeter.
I can see rows of dark, gray prefabricated buildings—boxy steel and concrete made modules that are connected to one another by adjoining enclosed walkways. They’re lined up on a grid of snow and ice.
Satellites and antennas are on top of the roofs. Immense generators are attached to the sides of the buildings. Oddly enough, I notice armed men outfitted in white parkas and pants standing guard throughout the area.
The Land Rover comes to a halt in front of one of the buildings. The driver hops out and opens my door, then moves to the back of the SUV and opens the rear hatch.
I retrieve my satchel, and step out onto the icy plain. He hands me my duffle, and offers a jovial smile as he shuts my door. He slips back into the comfort of the vehicle as a tall, slender Hispanic woman emerges from the building.
She offers a half smile, that looks to be forced more than anything. Her posture seems rigid, with her hands clasped behind her back. I’m unsure what’s colder, the weather, or her personality.
I try not to indulge my intuition, though, considering I haven’t even met her. Afterall, everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.
“Ms. Price, welcome to the Arctic Research and Development Center.”
Dressed in a black sweater, with a white lab coat draped over top, and thick, black parka pants, she extends out her hand as she walks up to greet me.
“Please, call me Madison.” I shake her hand. “All these formal greetings are starting to make me feel old.”
She chuckles.
“Of course. I’m Nora Sanchez, the lead scientist here at the center. We are thrilled to have you on the team.”
I shiver. My lips tremble from the chilly weather bombarding my face. The wind tries to exploit any openings in my garb. I can feel the breeze sneaking in past the zippers, and the thick brown material from the gloves’ openings. “Let’s go inside and get out of this dreadful weather.”
Dead State: Catalyst (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 0) Page 1
