Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact
Page 1
SUDDEN IMPACT
A POST-APOCAPYTPIC SURVIVAL THRILLER
DEREK SHUPERT
Copyright
Sudden Impact
Copyright © 2021 by Derek Shupert
Cover design by Derek Shupert
Cover art by Covers by Christian
Cover Copyright © 2021 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
Also by Derek Shupert
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
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Also by Derek Shupert
About the Author
Also By Derek Shupert
THE COMPLETE BRINK OF EXTINCTION SERIES :
SUDDEN IMPACT
STAY ALIVE
GET HOME
THE COMPLETE SURVIVE THE FALL SERIES :
POWERLESS WORLD
MADNESS RISING
DARK ROADS
TOTAL COLLAPSE
FIGHT BACK
THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES :
DEAD STATE : CATALYST (PREQUEL)
DEAD STATE : FALLOUT
DEAD STATE : SURVIVAL ROAD
DEAD STATE : EXECUTIONER
DEAD STATE : IMMUNE
DEAD STATE : EVOLVED
THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES BOX SET
THE HUNTRESS BANE SERIES :
THE HUNTRESS BANE (SHORT STORY)
TAINTED HUNTER
CRIMSON THIRST
THE COMPLETE BALLISTIC MECH SERIES :
DIVISION
INFERNO
EXTINCTION
PAYBACK
CHAPTER ONE
CORY
Even the toughest men cry and beg. Eventually.
I’ve seen it more times than I can remember. Doesn’t matter if they’re rich, poor, or in between, they all whimper like little babies in the end.
“Sign the paper, and perhaps I won’t snap your arm like a twig,” I said, my tone sounding more like a bear than a man.
I jacked up Anthony Shank’s left arm further, slamming his face into the glass table. Something cracked. His eyes pinched shut; teeth clenched so tight that they looked like they could shatter into a million pieces.
Then he screamed out in pain, pleading with me to release my hold. He should’ve just kept his mouth sealed. If he had, we wouldn’t have been in this predicament.
“Christ, you’re breaking my arm.” He howled like a wounded animal.
I held fast, keeping the pressure applied to let him know that we meant business.
“You right-handed or left?” I asked.
“Right,” he answered in a high-pitched yell. Tears, sweat, and a little blood pooled onto the table, around his face.
“See. You don’t need your left arm to sign that paper,” I replied. “Just throw your John Henry down, and we can all be friends here. It’s as easy as that.”
Shank’s henchmen banged on the other side of the yacht’s cabin door, yelling profanities and threats. But we weren’t fearful of anyone hearing them, as we were just off the coast of LA, away from people or any pesky law enforcement who might interrupt our business.
Duncan sighed from the plush white chair to my right. He squinted his eyes, then drilled his thumb and forefinger against his furrowed brow.
I’d seen that look before. He was not a patient person. He was about to lose his shit.
I had Shank’s head ratcheted in Duncan’s direction, and so we both watched Duncan lean forward in his chair, lowering his head to Shank’s level. Duncan’s forearms rested on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined. There was no anxiety on his face about the handful of armed men trying to bust in.
“My patience has waned past the point of reasoning with you.” His voice was serious. It was obvious he meant business. “I’m going to ask you one last time to sign that paper, and make a shit ton of money. It’ll be the easiest payday you’ve ever had.”
Shank winced.
“I can’t. I told you that the property has already been sold to the Trinity Corporation. There’s… there’s nothing I can do.”
Duncan shot up out of his chair, grabbed the back of Shank’s neck, and growled into his ear. “If I have to slice off every appendage you have, I’ll do it.”
Anthony began to weep, but the answer was still the same. “I cannnnn’t.”
Duncan dug a free hand into his front pocket, and retrieved a switchblade. He handed it to me. “Start taking fingers. I’m done asking nicely.”
I hesitated, deciding not to grab the blade immediately.
“I thought we were here to persuade him to sign the papers,” I said, unsure of my words. “Not to maim him or anything like that.” I was almost out of this racket, and I had promised my wife no maiming or the taking of another man’s life.
Duncan stood up straight and narrowed his eyes, his hand still clamped down on Shank’s neck.
“We start taking fingers, then he will be persuaded to sign the paper. Now stop being a pussy, and do your job.” He shoved the knife flat against my chest, but still I refused to take it. Disobeying Duncan could prove to land me in the hot seat and complicate matters, seeing as he was known for exerting what power he thought he had with a beat down or worse.
I released my hold of Shank’s arm and stepped back. “I’m not doing it.”
Duncan sighed once more. He shook his head, and slapped the back of Anthony’s skull. “I told Rhys you’d lost your nerve. He said you hadn’t. Guess I was right.”
His next move was a blur, but should have been expected.
Duncan ejected the blade, released Shank, and then tried to jab me in the stomach. He was so fast he nearly succeeded, but I managed to deflect his forearm. Then he pushed me backward against the large port window, slamming me into the tempered glass with a dull thud.
The tip of the blade was a scant inch away from my shirt. I tried to push away from it and him.
A horse growl loomed from his throat as he pulled the knife back, prepping for another jab.
The yacht jerk
ed toward port, sending both of us against the window.
The boat pitched, pressing us with more force into the glass wall. A clatter rose all around us, but we held our position, clutching each other and swinging our heads toward the yacht’s bow.
What the hell is that? I wondered.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The horizon was gone, and in its place, a dark mountain of water reached up to the heavens.
And then it hit us, and everything went black.
CHAPTER TWO
CORY
A dull pain lanced through every part of me. The muscles in my body ached. A twinge of pain drilled into my temple. It made it hard to move. I’d been put through the ringer before, but nothing as bad as that.
My eyes cracked open to a bright light overhead. I cinched my lids as tight as they would go to prevent the strident light from tormenting me.
I turned my head to the side, away from the harsh gleam, and chanced a glance. A haze blurred my vision. I blinked, and tried again.
The haze dissolved. My surroundings started to take shape. I heard sounds. Familiar sounds. And with them, some of my mental fog lifted. Once I got a look at the medical equipment next to me, I knew where I was.
A hospital had been my home more times than I could count. From being knocked around by my old man to getting into scraps that left me battered and bruised. It was the life of a brawler and enforcer, I guessed. Came with the territory. There was no reason to whine about it.
The sheets clung to my lower half while the smell of pungent cleaning solutions permeated the air. The door to the room was closed. The medical machines’ intermittent beeps, and the almost silent tone of a commercial playing from the wall-mounted TV before me, broke the quiet.
Christ. What happened on that damn yacht?
I couldn’t think straight. Regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to piece the events together leading up to now. The last thing I remembered was a solid wall of water slamming into the boat. Then blackness. Lights out.
It took all of my strength to lift myself into a sitting position. The battered spots on my body screamed for my attention. My right side ached. The agony grew in intensity with every movement I made. My left shoulder and thigh throbbed.
Pain was a sensation that I had grown up with. One either dealt with it or allowed it to hold reign over them. I wasn’t about to let something else have that much control over me.
I brought my right hand up to check the tenderness in my face, but it stopped short on its own thanks to my wrist being shackled to the bed frame by a pair of cuffs.
Great.
The door cracked open, and in bounced a nurse dressed in dark-blue scrubs. Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, its ends dancing off her shoulders. She looked young. Maybe early to mid-twenties. Easy on the eyes. Not a bad sight to wake up to, but my wife, Janet, was better.
I lowered my arm to the bed, and slid it under the scratchy top cover.
“Look who’s finally awake,” she said, offering a half smile as her gaze diverted to the clipboard she held. “How are you feeling?”
At least the pillows were soft, but just the act of laying back down caused another wave of dizziness that sent the room into a wicked spin.
“Feel like I got the shit kicked out of me,” I said.
She seemed to not notice my cuffs.
I continued. “My body hurts six ways from Sunday.”
She moved to the left side of the bed, put her clipboard down, and removed a pen-like object.
That’s when I caught a glimpse of her name badge: Peggy.
She leaned in close, offering me a hint of her scented perfume. Berry flavored. Nice.
“You’re pretty lucky to be alive, all things considered,” Peggy said.
The tip of the pen-like device sprung to life and spat out a bright light that slammed into my right eye.
I winced. “Don’t remember much about what happened. It’s all a blur now. Just bits and pieces here and there.”
Peggy leaned in close and squinted, moving the light from eye to eye. “Well, you did suffer some trauma to the head, along with some busted ribs. Some temporary memory loss is normal.”
“How long have I been out?”
Peggy slipped the sleek flashlight back into her pocket and grabbed the clipboard. She retrieved the pen that was secured under the clipboard’s spring and started to write. “A few days now.”
She continued writing while I sat there, silent, trying to bridge the gap in my memory.
Staring off into space, my eyes caught sight of the TV. The news was on. The screen showed an aerial view of flooded streets and devastated buildings that had been laid waste by large amounts of water.
“Peggy, can you turn that up for me?”
She reached down and grabbed the gray controller that had been wedged between the mattress and bed frame. She held it in front of me and pointed at the buttons. “Here are the volume buttons. Also, you can use these here to contact the nurse’s station if you need any assistance.”
I lifted my arm, but the handcuffs kept me from reaching the device. Her gaze fell to my cuffs and then flicked back up. She cracked a smile, then handed me the controller.
“Is there anyone waiting for me outside?” I asked.
“The LAPD is stationed outside your room,” Peggy replied, without a hint of emotion. “The doctor should be by in a bit to check in on you. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Perhaps some food. I’m a bit famished.”
Peggy nodded. “Certainly. I’ll have a plate brought up to you shortly.”
She turned and left the room, closing the door.
I glared at the handcuffs, then turned up the TV’s volume.
“—we’re continuing our report on the aftermath of the tsunami that has devastated LA and other coastal regions, " reported the news anchor. “Among the ruined buildings and submerged cars, billionaire Anthony Shank’s yacht washed up onto the mainland. Among the bodies recovered from the wreckage, were reputed crime boss’s son Duncan Coleman, who was stabbed in the chest. Lone survivor, Cory Lawson, is currently being held for questioning by LAPD.”
I looked at my cuffed hand and then the TV. My mind raced.
If the police thought I had something to do with Duncan Coleman’s death, then so did his father, Rhys Coleman, the head of the most powerful crime family in America.
My pulse took off at a gallop.
Ring-ring.
The hospital phone beside me rang much too loudly.
Ring-ring.
I leaned over with a free hand and picked it up. “Hell-llo?”
“Cory Lawson?” a baritone voice said from the other end of the line.
I recognized the voice instantly—Rhys Coleman.
Oh, shit.
I knew at that moment I was already dead.
CHAPTER THREE
CORY
I wanted to put the phone down, but for some reason, I had to hear the words. Words I knew were coming.
“Anything to say before I have you killed?” asked Rhys Coleman, murderer of many.
“Ahh—” My tongue tripped over itself.
“I make it a habit to speak to the people I'm about to mur—”
“Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I didn't kill your son. He died in the tsunami.”
Coleman scoffed. “And the tsunami stabbed my son?”
“I'm telling you, it was an accident.”
“Son, you better make peace with your God, because you, your wife, and your son are dead. Seems only fitting—”
“What do you mean my wife and son? What do they have to do with—”
“I'm done talking to a dead man.” The line went dead.
Shit, shit, shit.
No doubt, Coleman had already dispatched hit men to take me out. But I was more concerned about Janet and our son, Peter.
I had to get out of there and warn them, but my cuffed wrist kept me shackled to the bed.
The door creaked open once more. My body jumped, and snapped me out of my panic as the smell of food filled the air.
This time, it wasn’t a beautiful nurse with flowing blonde locks and a warm smile, but a man dressed in similar blue scrubs, carrying in a tray of food.
He hesitated at the half-opened door, casting a crooked gaze at me, pursing his lips as if he hadn’t expected me to watch him enter.
Then he pushed the door all the way open, and cruised to the left side of my bed, putting the tray of food down on the rolling table with a thud.
He didn’t look like your typical nurse, regardless of his gender. A hard expression resided on his face. His thin lips pursed, and he offered no greeting or warm demeanor of any sort. I had been in enough hospitals to see what kind of individuals generally worked in those sorts of environments. He didn’t fit the bill.
Still, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, so I kept an eye glued to him. Besides, I was handcuffed to the damn bed. Not like I had a bunch of options.
“Thanks for the food,” I said.
No response as he removed the rounded lid that covered the food.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist—a dagger going through the crown of a skull.
Bingo.
He turned away from me, and put the lid down on the chair to his left.
At the same time, I turned up the TV to drown out any noises that would soon be made.
He backed toward me, palming what I assumed was a hypodermic needle. He spun, grabbed my arm, and tried to plunge the silver tip into my flesh.
My free hand snagged his wrist just before it struck.
“Mr. Coleman sends his regards,” he said, through clenched teeth.
I shoved with a grunt, but the tip drew closer to my skin.
The TV blared so loudly I couldn’t hear our struggle.
The muscles in the man’s neck and arms flexed. Veins protruded from his tanned skin as he fought to finish his mission.
I was no slouch, though—no easy mark. If he was going to kill me, then he was going to have to fight like hell to do so.