by Jack Hunt
STATE OF DECAY
A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller
Jack Hunt
Direct Response Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Also by Jack Hunt
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
A Plea
Newsletter
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Jack Hunt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
STATE OF DECAY is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my Family
The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.
Albert Einstein
Also by Jack Hunt
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Renegades series
The Renegades
The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath
The Renegades Book 3: Fortress
The Renegades Book 4: Colony
The Renegades Book 5: United
Mavericks series
Mavericks: Hunters Moon
Time Agents series
Killing Time
Camp Zero series
State of Panic
State of Shock
State of Decay
Prologue
July 6, 1972
SOVIET UNION
Tensions were high in the Soviet Union’s nuclear weapons underground facility known as “The Polygon.” They had been waiting for the past hour for the head of state, Nikolai Podgorny, to arrive. It had been ten years since the Cuban Missile Crisis. The U.S.S.R. had taken steps to increase production of nuclear warheads and create new forms of biological weapons in the event that if the two nations went to war against each other they would be ready. Scientist Anton Petrov felt another bead of hot sweat roll down his back as he stood beside his colleagues making the final preparations for the demonstration.
Though he knew the dangers involved, and the pain it would cause, he understood that they had created it under the premise that it would only be used in a worst-case scenario.
Petrov fished into his pocket for his wallet. He retrieved from it a crinkled photo of his family that he always carried around with him. It served as a reminder of all he could lose if this didn’t work. It wasn’t just the KGB that he feared but the ridicule of his peers. A lot was riding on this. He had been informed that these deadly devices would be smuggled into the USA across the Mexican border or by way of a small transport missile launched from a Russian airplane.
He stared at the one hundred vials inside the glass cabinet and thought about the devastation the contents would cause. His co-workers had been developing the biological weapon over the past ten years and testing various strains to see which would work the fastest. The initial batch would be carried upon the air, with a lifespan of twenty-four hours before it decayed. It was more than enough time to spread the infection. From there, it would be passed from one to the next through saliva or blood.
Many people died in the first round of testing, mostly prisoners who were to be executed anyway, the rest were American spies. He still recalled the look of terror on their faces when the dangerous pathogen was pumped into the room.
He didn’t want to do it but he had no choice. It was either the American’s life or his family. The KGB didn’t negotiate and they always followed through with their threats.
“It’s wrong, Anton,” a colleague said.
“Don’t you think I know that?” he replied before staring back as one of the scientists removed one of the vials, placed it into a large steel case with padding inside and moved it to a new location from where it had been sitting for the past two months. “I have been reassured it will only be used in the event that the U.S. attacks our country. And if they make that mistake, may God help them.”
For the past twenty years Petrov had given himself to the study of pathogens and ways to combat different forms of viruses that could cause disease. He had embarked on numerous, and lengthy research studies and performed countless tests for the government in his time but never before had he been called upon to make a pathogen as deadly as this. There was no cure, except death.
He never told his family, partly because he assumed that his work would become fodder in some medical white paper or be stored away as data on some computer for future generations. Never in his life did he imagine that they would want him and other medical scientists to create a weapon that could inflict more pain and misery on a human being than any other disease.
“Is the test subject 811 ready for the demonstration?”
“Yes sir.”
Petrov nodded, breathed in deeply and composed himself. He didn’t want to give the head of state any sense that he was having doubts about his involvement.
It’s just another test, he told himself.
Once the head of state arrived with armed personnel, they were escorted into a boardroom that would allow them to view the test subjects from behind the safety of impenetrable glass. It was completely sealed off from the release of the pathogen.
“Sir,” Petrov gave a nod before shaking the hand of Nikolai Podgorny. He was dressed in a dark navy suit with a red tie and white shirt. He acknowledged Petrov but didn’t linger. Once inside the boardroom, Petrov took his place at one end of the room while the Communist Party leader, head of state and premier, along with other doctors and scientists, took a seat around the large table. They were each offered a drink before he began the rehearsed presentation.
“Thank you for coming. As you all know, over the past ten years we have been working with various forms of pathogens that can create disease in the body. Our work has led us into many forms of testing, both with animals and humans. While we have suffered a few setbacks, we feel that we have finally developed a biological weapon that can be used to bring any nation to its feet. When used in conjunction with nuclear weapons, it would make it very difficult for a nation to bounce back. Where a nuclear blast radius can only reach so far, the inclusion of what we have created will spread even further. While the blast itself and radiation will kill millions, the initial exposure to this airborne pathogen via the fallout will cause unprecedented chaos. Allow me to explain.” Petrov brought up on a large screen a number of images, along with photos taken throughout the tests they performed. “We began research and study using some of the most harmful diseases known to man. Eventually we pinpointed an incurable one called Kuru or often referred to as ‘Shiver.’ When infected, it
not only causes physiological and neurological effects that end in death but it’s currently incurable. The only downside we noticed was that it was degenerative. However, it took us around eight years to change that. Finally, we believe we have created a disease that will level the playing field in the shortest amount of time.”
“What are the symptoms?”
“It is probably best I show you.” Petrov gave a nod to his co-worker Lebedev who proceeded to walk over to the far wall. He pressed a button and spoke into a mic. A few seconds later the wall in front of them parted like steel jaws. A bright light burst through and everyone in the room adjusted their eyes to the glare. Inside was a small lab with a few doctors and three male test subjects.
Petrov glanced back at the head of state as his eyes fell upon the deformed men. Each of the infected was in a different state of decay.
“Approximately one hour ago our male subject on the left was exposed to our pathogen. Initially, his body started to show an increased heartbeat. This was followed by the vital organs being attacked and malformation of the body. It varies from subject to subject the kind of deformity but in all cases, it’s swift. We are talking about a matter of seconds.”
“Doctor, I don’t understand. How does changing them help the cause?”
“Imagine not having to send in troops because the nation you are fighting have turned on each other.” He paused for a second. “Kuru was originally a disease found among those who practiced mortuary cannibalism. It has a domino affect and can be contracted from person to person; however, we have found a way to extract, manipulate the disease and spread it by way of airborne exposure. Is that clear?”
They nodded.
“Now, the subject in the middle is at the six-month mark, as you can see there is not only a large amount of deformation but we have had to constrain them because there has been an increase in strength. On the far right is a test subject who was exposed a year ago. Like the test subject in the middle, he exhibits… Well, let me show you.”
Petrov nodded and his colleague pressed a button on the wall and whispered into the microphone. The doctors left the room. A minute or two passed and a door was opened. Thrown inside onto his knees was a man in an American military uniform.
“Taking into consideration our findings, the way the immune system reacted to the pathogen, and how quickly the DNA changed, we noticed an increase in rage.”
The American on the floor looked confused and dazed as though he had been injected with something to prevent him from fighting back. A buzzer sounded and the steel locks on the three subjects were released. The three infected men immediately attacked the American like a gazelle that had been thrown to the lions. He didn’t stand a chance. They tore at his clothes and began to brutalize him using their bare hands, teeth and tools that had been left out for demonstration purposes.
“There are only two outcomes when exposed. Either you are infected or killed.”
Not a sound could be heard in the room as it had been designed to contain the response of the afflicted. From behind the thick glass, all they could see were three out-of-control men savagely killing the American. When they were done, one of them raced up to the window and hit it with tremendous force. Thankfully it was designed to keep them out. Blood smeared across the window. Petrov turned back to the men around the table.
“The pathogen will initially be released in the air infecting those within two miles of the blast radius. From there, the infected will spread it further afield.”
The head of state turned his eyes away. He muttered something into the ear of Petrov’s superior and then he and the others left the room without saying a word. When they were gone, Petrov was pulled aside into the office of his superior and reprimanded.
“That was not what they wanted. If and when the nukes are detonated, they don’t want to contend with a nation full of these…” his eyes turned to the three, “savages.”
“Not what they wanted? Last year they wanted more deformity, the year before that they wanted them to turn on each other. They couldn’t turn on each other, as Kuru is a degenerative disease. So they wanted more strength. I found a way for that to happen, and they don’t want it?”
“I don’t want excuses, Petrov. Fix it or you are fired, and you know what that means.”
His superior got up and left the room leaving Petrov to dwell on his words. They were getting closer to the date of when the suitcase nukes would be smuggled by spies into the U.S. There was no way he was going to be able to come up with a different outcome before then. It had taken years to reach this point. If this didn’t suffice then he knew what would happen to him and his family.
Petrov kicked a trashcan across the floor in frustration.
If his family were going to be threatened, he would see to it that so would the Soviet Union.
1
IDAHO, PRESENT DAY
Panic climbed in Sam’s chest as he snuck a peek around the aisle in WinCo Foods. The strangest part about the store was that the shelves were still loaded with groceries. Much of it was expired but regardless there was canned food that could still be used.
Ten of them had entered the small town of Faulkton, now only three of them were alive. It had occurred so fast they didn’t know what hit them. One minute they were astonished to have found a town still loaded with supplies and the next they were fighting for their lives.
“You see anything?” Luke asked before changing the grip on the baseball bat in his hand. Not one of them had any ammo left. Sam gripped a machete tightly; his knuckles had gone white from fear. He pulled back and looked over to Luke and shook his head.
“What the hell are they?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
It was like nothing they had ever seen. They were fully alive, as they walked, ran and climbed like anyone else and yet they weren’t the same. Something was different. Their eyes were bloodshot red and their veins protruded below their skin giving them a grotesque appearance. They were stronger, but thankfully not faster. Neither did they speak.
Sam eyed the convex mirror in the corner of the store. It reflected back, a large group of about ten. They had entered the store and began to fan out.
“I can’t do this,” a young man by the name of Michael Ferry trembled two aisles down. They had killed his brother in the most horrific manner possible and spewed blood all over his father. All the while Michael had a front-row seat.
“Get a grip, Ferry,” Luke reminded him. “This is not the time to have a breakdown.”
Faulkton was one of three towns they were exploring. Over the past six months, supplies had run low once again and even though survivors in Hayden had plans to plant crops, the winter months meant delays. Several groups were formed to go on runs into nearby towns and further afield. Luke and Sam had been paired together against his wishes. A lot had changed between them in six months. While they still didn’t exactly get along, they knew where they stood with each other and for a period of time they had laid aside their differences for the good of the others.
Sam heard glass crunching beneath boots as he cast a glance towards an exit. At the back of the store there was a meat room that was divided by large plastic flaps. He shuffled over trying to avoid being seen and took a look inside. With two fingers he motioned to the others and they scurried over.
In the rear of the store it smelled like rotting flesh. Large slabs of meat covered in flies and larvae were still on the counter waiting to be cut and taken out front. The floor was covered in dry and wet blood from those that had been killed or had taken their own lives. Michael slipped on some and collapsed to the ground, bringing down some metallic equipment in the process.
In an instant, the same terrifying screams they had first heard upon entering the town once again filled the air.
“Go. Go!” Luke shouted, motioning to the docking area at the rear of the building. Several trucks were parked there with the backs of them open. Inside were skids of wrapped boxes. Most of
it was frozen food that now reeked to high heaven. No one had touched it. It had simply been abandoned. Sam was about to go around the truck and make a run for it across the parking lot when he saw another cluster of fifty. He put up his hand and directed them into the back of the truck. No sooner had they got inside and brought the rear down when he caught sight of more entering the rear of the store.
Enveloped by darkness and breathing hard, they did their best to remain quiet. Blood roared through his body and fear flooded his mind. Outside they could hear the grunts and shrieks of the insane. All three of them moved further back inside the truck, slipping in between the pallets. There was no exit except the way they had come in. As they took a seat and listened to bodies bang up against the sides, they were so overwhelmed by fear they didn’t utter a word. All they could do was listen and hope to God they didn’t look inside.
Five minutes passed, maybe ten before they spoke.
“You think they’re gone?”
“What the hell are they?” Michael whispered. They had been trying to figure that out from the moment they laid eyes on them. Tim, a guy who was the first to be killed, had thought it was a joke. He’d actually approached them because from a distance they looked no different than anyone else. When they threw him to the floor and a pregnant woman ripped his throat apart with her teeth, chaos ensued. Some were talking shit and saying they were zombies but that was just the end result of a mind that had seen one too many films. Luke was quick to jump on that, telling the others that it was bullshit. “They’re alive, assholes, and they die like anyone else,” he said. That crazy idea was nipped in the bud, with a clean shot through the chest. While the woman didn’t get up again, it didn’t stop the others from charging.
“Keep it down, they will hear us,” Luke muttered.
