Dead State (Book 3): Executioner

by Shupert, Derek

  I make my way of my room and down the hallway toward the staircase. I pause briefly at Cindy’s room, and find that her bed is neatly made. Her favorite dolls rest against her unicorn pillows as their stitched button eyes stare at me. Not too creepy. But more so, where is she? Mom never fixes breakfast late in the day, so I’m a bit taken back as to why Cindy’s bed appears as though it hasn’t been slept in. Weird.

  I hear Dad and Mom laugh from the kitchen. Their jovial voices are a welcome sound. I pause briefly on the landing, and peek back over my shoulder to Cindy’s room. Strange indeed.

  “James, are you coming?” Mom calls out. “If you don’t hurry, Duke is going to take your place at the table. He can smell that thick, crispy bacon, and he wants it badly. So, I’d hurry it up if you don’t want to miss out.”

  “Coming!” I respond.

  With my hand on the oak banister, I slowly make my way down the stairs to the first floor. On the other side of the sprawling living room, Mom and Dad are sitting at the table. Duke is waiting patiently by my chair as he tilts his head toward me.

  Dad notices me and smiles. “It’s alive.” He likes to joke. “Late night, killer? You look a little worse for wear. Dawson keeping you up again on those video games?”

  I don’t know. I can feel my face disfigure in bewilderment. They don’t press anymore, or probe as to why I have this look on my face, which is sort of weird. Like most parents, they are generally attuned to mine and Cindy’s behavior. Anytime we act out of the ordinary, they are quick to investigate why. Not so much today, though. Again, strange.

  I navigate the labyrinth of furniture that resides in the living room, while making my way over to the table. The more I think of things, the more this feels off for some reason. I can’t pinpoint it, but the vibe doesn’t feel natural at all.

  “Saddle up, Son,” Dad says with a mouthful of fried eggs. His fork scrapes along the ceramic plate as he tries to stab the yellowish egg white from the plate’s greasy surface.

  I pull out my chair and sit down. Mom reaches over to me and rubs my arm.

  “How did you sleep, sweetie?”

  My eyes fix on the empty seat across from me where Cindy normally sits. I gaze to my right and past Mom as I crane my neck.

  “I… I slept all right, I guess. Where is Cindy? Her bed is perfectly made, and it doesn’t appear as though it has even been slept in. I normally don’t see it like that this early in the morning.”

  “She’s not here, silly. You know that.” Mom offers me a big smile as she feeds a large strip of bacon to Duke. He chomps it down in just two bites and looks for more.

  “She’s not?” I’m lost. Cindy’s always here. She is generally bugging the crap out of me. “Where is she?”

  Dad chuckles once more as he cuts into the French toast that is now on his plate. “Did you hit your head or something, Son? The government has her.”

  Mom reaches out and grabs my arm softly. “Honey, are you sure you’re feeling all right? You’re acting awfully peculiar this morning. You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  My gaze cuts to Dad, then Mom. Why the heck are they so calm, and acting as though the answer provided is ok in the slightest.

  “And you’re ok with this why?”

  “Honey, you sure did out shine yourself today. This was a fantastic spread. Plus, a great cup of java to boot.” Dad sets his fork down on the edge of his plate. He holds up a finger as he grabs his white coffee mug. He takes a big sip from the hot brew.

  Mom makes a kissy face at him and winks. “Anything for my men.”

  What the hell is happening here? Why are they acting as if nothing is wrong with this picture?

  Anger swells in the pit of my gut. Both hands ball into tightly clenched fists as my lips purse. They continue making faces at each other.

  I snap and hammer the edge of the table abruptly. “What the hell is wrong with you two? Cindy has been taken by the government, and you’re just sitting eating as if that’s a perfectly acceptable response. Now tell me what the hell is going on!”

  They stare at me. Dad places both elbows on the table and laces his fingers together. Mom wipes her mouth free of any left-over food and sets the napkin down on top of her plate.

  “Son, we’ve been over this a few times,” Dad calmly states.

  “Enlighten me again, please then, Dad,” I curtly respond.

  “They took your sister because she’s been bitten by the infected, but hasn’t turned. They are not sure as to why, but they hope to figure it out.”

  “Those chasers are dreadful creatures. So primitive, like mindless vessels destroying everything in their path,” Mom quickly adds.

  Infected?

  Chasers?

  The wheels grind inside my head. For some reason, this all sounds familiar. Not sure how, but it does. As if it has happened to me before. Deja vu maybe.

  My eyes cut down to my mounding plate of food. I stare intently at it while Mom and Dad continue to banter back and forth. Something moves on my plate.

  What is that?

  I lean in closer, and spot a white, round object slithering about in my fried egg. I retrieve my fork and investigate. The steel ends prod the burnt white outer edge. I lift it up, and discover it is a maggot.

  The fork drops from my hand and clatters on the plate. I gasp in disgust and lean back. I close my eyes briefly, and open them again to find more of the disgusting insects crawling all over the rotting food on my plate.

  “James, sweetie, you’re scaring me. What is wrong?” Mom inquires with a softly spoken tone.

  Panting, I look up, and find her face to be bloody and disfigured with a winding gap in her forehead. Her skull has been cracked open with a portion of her brain visible through the strands of hair that stick to the grisly looking wound.

  I give a loud scream that sends my eyes nearly bugging out of my skull.

  Another hand grabs my left forearm, and I dare to look.

  Dad is just as badly disfigured with a portion of his head completely missing now. Blood drains from his torn, tattered lips as the infection swirls in his eyes.

  An orange, burnt glow beyond the windows captures my glassy eyes. Fire and smoke loom in the distance as far as I can see. There is no clear blue sky. No birds chirping, and no hint of a normal, peaceful life.

  “What’s going on here?” I mutter. I try to scoot away from the table, but both my parents gangly looking hands remain latched onto my arms.

  “This is hell, Son. Where we are now because your mother and I are dead. But it’s ok. We’ve come to terms with it and have moved on. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Mom smiles, revealing rotting teeth out from under her blood-stained lips. “That is correct. I imagine soon James and Cindy will be joining us for eternity. It will be so nice to have the family all together again. Isn’t that right, Duke?”

  I look to my right, and find Duke staring at me. His eyes are consumed by the virus. His fangs are completely visible through the missing flesh around his snout. He growls, and barks at me as Mom and Dad snicker in delight.

  “No. No. This isn’t real. I’m just dreaming.”

  Dad grabs me by the scruff of my camo jacket. He yanks me forward. His eyes narrow at me, and the rotted flesh of his brow furrows. “Do yourself a favor, Son. Prepare for the end, because it’s coming, despite what you try to do to stop it.” He lunges for my throat.

  I close my eyes, and scream aloud as I’m startled awake by a restrictive hand on my shoulder.

  “James, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I shoot forward in my seat in a panic. Beads of sweat coat my face. It mixes with the grime that covers my skin, making it tacky. My heart hammers so fast and hard that it nearly hurts. I look around, looking to the driver’s side seat. Lucas is nowhere to be seen.

  Cassie leans against the center console with Duke by her side. They both stare at me for a moment as I struggle to calm down.

  “Bad
dream?” she finally inquires. “You were talking in your sleep some. Didn’t sound pleasant.”

  I suck in a big gulp of air, and hold it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. “Yeah. You could say that. Wish I didn’t have to sleep. Can’t seem to get a break no matter where I am.”

  Cassie nods. “I feel much the same. There is never a good dream. Just dark places that I’d care not to visit again. At least, not like that.”

  “Tell me about it.” My hand brushes up and down my face. Although I still feel like crap, at least now I feel more awake and alert than I was before. “Where’s Lucas?”

  Cassie motions to the right side of the Humvee with her head.

  “He’s filling the tank up with gas real quick. Most places we’ve come across haven’t looked too safe to stop, so he kept going. We had to finally stop and fuel up before the tank ran dry.”

  I peer out through the windshield. My eyes narrow as I try to look beyond the darkness.

  “Where are we at?”

  “Lucas said last sign he saw was for Myrtle Creek. That was a bit ago, though. I’ve been in and out as well, so I’m not sure where we currently are.”

  I go to open my door. The driver’s side door cracks open, and Lucas slips inside. The cold chill of the night air drifts into the cab.

  “Man. It’s a bit chilly out there after being in this warm cab.” Lucas peeks over to me as he cups his hands together and blows into them. “Rested?”

  I shrug. “I guess so. Don’t feel like it, but I’m awake now.”

  “Yeah. Didn’t seem like you were sleeping well from the way you were fidgeting in your seat,” Lucas says as he continues to rub his hands together and blow into them.

  “Cassie said the last town you remember seeing us go through was Myrtle Creek.”

  “It was, but I haven’t seen a sign since. I could’ve missed one, though. There have been splotches of road where cars were in the way, so I had to do some creative driving.”

  I lift my right brow in the air slightly in curiosity. “Creative driving?”

  “As in, he went off the road and drove in the ditch. Thankfully, we didn’t get stuck or anything.” Cassie interjects. “You woke up disoriented and a bit frantic. Once we got back on the road, you calmed down and went back to sleep. Don’t you remember?”

  I shake my head. “I do not. All I remember at the moment is the horrid dream I had.”

  “If this would’ve been a car, I’d have been a bit more hesitant to do so, but seeing as we’re traveling about in an armored military combat vehicle with a machine gun mounted to the ceiling, I figured it could handle it,” Lucas says. “Besides, it was that or try to find another way around, which would’ve taken infinitely more time and gas. By the way, we are now running short on gas. I’ve emptied all of the gas cans that were loaded into the rear. I thought they’d be completely full, but they weren’t. They were each maybe halfway filled. Perhaps a little less.”

  That sucks.

  “How far will that get us before we completely run dry?” I inquire. A feeling of dread slithers in.

  Lucas shrugs.

  He fires the engine back up, which kicks the heat back on. Its warmth blows from the vents mounted on the dash, but it struggles to battle the cold chill that I feel from Lucas’s not so reassuring response. He stares at the gauges briefly before responding.

  “What little I put in barely took us up to a half a tank. Given these types of vehicles get crap for gas mileage, like around eight on the highway and four in the city, we’ll burn through it rather quickly.”

  “Doesn’t seem that efficient,” Cassie observes. “Wonder why the military even bothers with such a gas guzzling type of vehicle.”

  “I imagine the fuel economy of the vehicle wasn’t high on their list compared to the tactical application that it would provide them. After all, this is a six-ton armored combat vehicle that is specially made for war. Not Sunday driving to a relative’s house. One of the main reasons I never got one of the H3’s years ago.”

  A bit defeated, I pick at Lucas’s brain to see what our next move will be. “Ok, given what you said, what should we do? I’d like to avoid having to walk to Yreka, but if that’s what I have to do, then I’ll do it.”

  Lucas points in my direction as his head moves from side to side as if he’s in search of something. I wonder what he’s looking for. “Where’s that map you have?”

  I look down, and don’t see it. I temporarily forget what I did with it since looking it over last. I feel my back pockets, but they’re empty. I glance down to the floorboard, and move my back out of the way. There it is.

  It’s only folded once. I undo it, and spread it open.

  “What town is shown next?” Lucas inquires.

  I retrieve the flashlight from the dash, and turn it on. I skim over Interstate 5 and locate Myrtle Creek. I continue down to the next listed location. “Looks to be Canyonville. Doesn’t appear to be much further on the map past Myrtle Creek.”

  Lucas nods. “Sounds like just as good of a place to stop as any.” He cranes his neck so he can look at the map and narrows his eyes as he leans forward.

  “What is it?” I prod.

  He points to the heavy green shaded areas that look to populate mountains just beyond the town.

  “We’ll definitely need to stop there then to refuel. Doesn’t look like much till we pass through Azalea. A lot of these little towns are hit and miss. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find a station that still has some diesel fuel left. That’s a whole lot of desolate road to be traveling while sucking fumes.”

  “Agreed.” I fold the map back up, and slip it inside my gear for safekeeping. If, for some reason, we need to ditch the Humvee in a hurry, I want to make sure I have the map on me. Although not a life shattering thing if it did get lost, it would just make things a tad bit harder. And right now, things are bad enough the way they are.

  Lucas places the Humvee into gear and gets us back on the move. I settle into my seat, and exhale a breath of tension and stress.

  My body and mind are still suffering the effects of the all-too-real dream that has me feeling weird and disconnected from the world. I know it’s the guilt that is slowly and ever so persistently gnawing away at my insides. One of the reasons I like to stay busy and my mind working on our next move. I’ve always heard that idle hands are the devil’s playground. Right now, my mind is the horned demon’s amusement park, and it seems to be open for business twenty-four seven.

  As I sit, warm air blasts me in the face. I divert the vents, and stare out the windows. I watch the trees that fly by as the headlights shine through their scantly formed branches. Glancing at the slender sticks, they appear more as arms attached to a large body than anything else. Long, boney fingers ready to snatch any poor suspecting soul who wanders by.

  That’s where my mind is now. Swimming in the deepest and darkest places that project those fears and unspoken horrors that I’m battling into the real world. Not that it has to try that hard. There is more than enough evil now to make one think they were tossed into purgatory and left for all eternity to suffer endlessly.

  I close my eyes for a moment, and try to erase the torment that will not release me. I fight through the images of all those I have lost to find a glimpse of Cindy’s sweet smiling, and yet annoying, face.

  I focus on that. On her voice. I long to feel something that is not sadness or utter doom. I need to feel love if I have any hope of emerging from this blackness consuming me.

  My thoughts battle through the demons that plague me to that happy place where Cindy is at. She’s in her room on her floor with her dolls surrounding her. She’s playing with them, setting up a tea party, then stomping through the middle of them as if she is Godzilla.

  Crazy girl.

  Much like me, she has an insane imagination and wicked creativity. Makes me think she just enjoys bugging me. Not because she can’t entertain herself, but because she finds it amusing to get a rise out
of me. I didn’t realize at the time, but I miss those days now.

  I manage to hold the dreadful thoughts at bay as I relive moments that Cindy and I shared. It brings a moment of solace to me that almost causes me to smile.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I disconnect from the world for a little bit as the repetitive scenery flashes by. I get so lost in myself, that I don’t realize it when we come to a complete stop.

  Lucas snaps his fingers, then waves his hand in front of my face to snare my attention. “James, you home?”

  I curb the past memory, and cut my eyes over to him. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “We’re here,” Lucas says.

  Cassie leans against the center console. Duke sits next to the door on the driver’s side. I imagine he wants to stretch his legs and probably relieve himself. To be honest, I kind of want to do the same thing.

  “The station doesn’t seem to have any power. The pumps aren’t going to work, are they?” she inquires.

  Lucas shakes his head. “I’m not even going to bother with the pumps. Most have backup generators that would turn on in the event of a power outage. Given how much time has passed since things have declined, I doubt their generator has any fuel left to power the pumps. That is, if they even have one.” Lucas cuts his gaze out of the window to the pump right next to us. “If they did have some sort of power, there would be some indication letting us know that they did.”

  “How do you plan on getting the fuel, then?” I ask. “Seems like a waste of time to stop here if the pumps aren’t operational.”

  “We could locate the covers that cover the tanks full of gas underground, which should be off to the side of the pumps close by. Pry one of them up and try to figure out if it is diesel or not, and haul it up. The hardest part would be figuring out what kind of gas it is.” Lucas then points to the large RV’s that are parked close by. “An easier approach would be to check out the vehicles around us. Certain models run off of diesel.”

  “I say we check the vehicles. Seems to be the quickest and easiest approach,” Cassie suggests.