Dead State (Book 4): Immune

by Shupert, Derek

  I stand up, and move away while rubbing the film of grease from the palm of my hand on the fronts of my pants. Simons stoops down and shines his light at the cable.

  Duke groans and continues to growl under his breath. He doesn’t like being here, and to be honest, I don’t either, but it had to be done.

  “Shouldn’t be too much longer, boy, and we’ll head back up.” I rub the crown of his head to stay his uneasiness. He stops, but only for a split second.

  Click!

  What was that?

  Static fills the air, followed by voices that bleed in through the white noise.

  Simons stands up and looks to his hip. He grabs the radio and brings it up to his ear. He listens close while trying to get past the static that’s coming from the speaker.

  “Say your last, over?” he advises as he glances at me.

  The crackling subsides. A panicked voice shouts from the speakers, followed by the ear-splitting rattling of gunfire and manic moans from the chasers.

  “BREACH!” the soldier yells out. “THE INFECTED HAVE BREACHED THE LOBBY-”

  The radio goes dead without a hint of a crackle.

  Simons’s jaw drops and his eyes widen. He clips the radio back to his belt and yells, “Daniels, we’ve got a problem!”

  The flashlight in my hand flickers, then dies. I bang it hard against the palm of my hand repeatedly until it comes back to life.

  The generator to my left seizes up, and dies. It’s so quiet that I can hear Daniels cussing and sighing as he stands up.

  “Son of bitch,” he groans. “I’d say we got problems. This hunk of junk just kicked the bucket.”

  “The front lobby has been breached!” Simons cries out.

  Daniels turns to face us. He cringes from the horrible news, then looks back to the generator he’s working on. “Damn it! We have to get these units back on line or try to.”

  Simons nods in my direction. “What do we do with the kid? I think they were wanting us all to evac to the third floor once we had these units operational.”

  “How much longer do you need?” I ask.

  Daniels shrugs, then kicks the generator. “No telling. We might be able to get that one you’re next to fixed, but if both of these units aren’t operational, it’ll die in no time, and then we’ll be back to square one. As in, we’re screwed.”

  “Let me get the kid and the dog to the third floor, and I’ll come back to help out.” Simons places his hand on my shoulder, then looks to the exit.

  Daniels runs his hand through his slicked back black hair and grumbles in anger. He shakes his head no. “There isn’t time for that and the odds of you making it back down here will be slim. Besides, for us to have any sort of chance at getting these fixed, we both need to be working on them now.”

  I glance down to Duke who looks up at me. He licks around his snout and stands at the ready. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he read my mind.

  “You ready to make a run for it, boy?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As much as the fear boiling in the pit of my stomach wants to spew from every pore in my body, I shove it down deep and stand tall. If I don’t, I’ll perish in this god-forsaken space, and that just isn’t an option.

  “I can’t let you do that,” he says while pointing in the direction of the main hospital area. “Those damn things are inside now.”

  I point at the generators while looking at both of them. “Yeah, and you two need to work on these. We’ll haul ass and get up top in a flash. I don’t plan on taking my time.”

  Daniels gets back to work without saying anything else. Simons growls, then looks at me. I’m running out of time.

  “Fine. Just hurry the hell up, and make it back up there. I can’t have the death of a kid on my conscience. Do you remember the way to go?”

  I dip my chin, and back away with Duke by my side. I bump into the tool box on the floor with the heal of my boot. The tools inside clatter about, drawing my focus to the opened weapons valet. Tucked inside the steel box, I spot a pipe wrench. It’s not my machete, but it’ll do.

  I grab the wrench and leave. We skirt the blind corner and dash through the walkway. The light bounces up and down along the walls and machinery within my unsteady grasp. I keep the pipe wrench grasped tightly in my hand as we cut to the left and reach the door.

  The faint report of gunfire catches my attention. It’s coming from beyond the doors that lead in the direction of the first floor of the hospital and parking garage.

  Stevens. Crap.

  Two quick breaths in and out. I glance down to Duke who’s ready to move on my command. “All right, boy. We stick together and run.” Duke groans and keeps his focus on our way out.

  I jerk the door open, and we sprint out of the space. I slam it shut as we enter the void of darkness. My heart pounds against my ribs, and it takes me a moment to gather my bearings.

  Duke growls. I turn and find him staring in the direction of the hallway that leads out into the parking garage. His ears are folded down, and he’s baring his teeth.

  I hold the flashlight up, and train it at the long stretch of corridor before us. The double doors at the opposite end are wide open. There is no light source I can see from Stevens’s rifle. Nothing but the ever-present cloak of darkness remains.

  The light’s radiance only stretches so far before it fades to nothing. Then again, he could’ve cut his losses and retreated back up to the third floor before the chasers gained access. Perhaps he fired a single shot and fled while he could.

  I locate the entrance to the first floor which is to our left.

  Duke continues his defensive posture and growling. There is something out that way that he sees or senses.

  I nudge his hind leg. “Come on, boy. Let’s get out of here.”

  He doesn’t budge. I press a bit harder, and he moves.

  We make for the stairs. I spot a ghostly gray silhouette of a figure off in the distance.

  Is that Stevens?

  It’s hard to see from here. I narrow my eyes and keep the flashlight trained on him. I open my mouth to call his name when another figure materializes to his right. Then another to his left.

  Oh hell. Chasers.

  They howl and screech. Lumped together like some sort of symbiotic alien, they rush headlong at us.

  My feet pound up the stairs as their combined pleas of hunger cling to my ears. I’m drunk on adrenaline from the never-ending strife of fighting for our lives. I hit the landing, and slam into the exterior of the door. I find the handle quickly this time, and sling it open. Blindly, I charge inside, not knowing what dangers are sure to be lurking within.

  Duke stands within the doorway, growling and barking viciously at the chasers who are racing up the steps. I grab his collar and jerk him back into the hallway of the first floor. Damn. This dog weighs a ton. Especially when he’s in battle ready mode.

  I shove him off to the side, grip the edge of the door, and force it closed. The right side of my body leans against the smooth, steel exterior as the chasers hammer their fists in protest.

  Way too many close calls. I feel like a cat that has spent over half of its nine lives. I’m not sure how many I have left.

  Gunfire echoes throughout the halls. The fierce yowls of the chasers meld with the shrieks of terror from the soldiers dying.

  The uncertainty of whether or not I’ll make it back to Cindy and the others becomes all too real. I’m trapped in a maze of death and carnage that is shrinking by the second.

  There is no turning back, though. I can’t leave the way I came. Death’s waiting for me just beyond the door. If I hope to survive this nightmare, I’m going to have to muster what courage remains, and fight my way through the undead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  My hands shake.

  The chasers continue to wail and hammer the door.

  Each strike causes me to flinch, and my muscles to tighten.

  Before me, darkness looms, as well
as the undead creatures that now roam these forsaken halls. I wish I had my Remington, or the machete for that matter. They never failed me. Still, I could be left without a bucket to piss in—one of my grandfather’s favorite sayings. Given my dire situation, it seems fitting.

  I lower to the ground. I drape my arm over Duke. His body is as tense as mine. Vibrations rumble through him.

  I try to remember which way to go to get to the stairwell, but I’m struggling to fight through the fog that has invaded my head. I know it’s not too far down this corridor.

  The rapping of heavy footsteps clomping in the near distance sends me upright. Duke and I get back on the move, and stay close to the wall. The white beam of the flashlight sweeps from side to side.

  The chasers are close. I can hear them clearer with every step we make. Their panted breathing and grunts send a wave of fear crashing into me. I scour the hall for the infected as each breath that leaves me grows louder.

  There’s a junction coming up. I think it’s the one that Lance was patrolling in earlier. From the way he spoke, the entrance to the hospital wasn’t too far away.

  I listen closely, and hear the all too familiar grunts and groans of the chasers.

  Damn it.

  I don’t think we can make it through the hallway without the creatures spotting us. That, and I don’t know how close they really are.

  The lab area we were held up in when we first arrived is to our left. It’s the closest space for us to hide in.

  We dart across the hallway, and slither along the wall until we come to the entrance. I grab the handle and pull, but it doesn’t budge. I try again, but it refuses to give any.

  Great.

  I frantically search for any safe space for us to take refuge in. There are no rooms close by. Nothing but a solid wall that spans to the next hallway.

  Two chasers emerge from the dimness. I fumble with the flashlight and turn it off. . They stop dead center in the hallway. They twirl about aimlessly, grunting and growling at one another in the darkness. Their bodies twitch, and their fingers move uncontrollably as if they’re trying to grab a hold of something. That muscle memory from a former life, perhaps.

  I press against the wall and remain silent. I shush Duke by grabbing his snout and holding him close. His growls are muffled, barely audible. His muscles are taut. He’s wants to attack—defend me at all costs from the threat nearby.

  The chasers haven’t spotted us yet. That much is certain from their behavior.

  My hand wraps over Duke’s nose, and gently holds his mouth shut. I hate doing it to him, but I need for him to remain silent. He pulls away from me, then thrashes his head from side to side.

  “Boy, please stop,” I sternly whisper into his ear.

  I know its nature to want to protect me when he feels there’s a credible threat. Just wish he would, for this once, listen.

  His growls grow louder. His body slams into the wall and directs the chasers focus in our direction. Damn it.

  They hone in on us.

  I release my hold from around Duke’s snout, and scramble to get my feet under me. Duke takes off, charging the undead fiends.

  The chasers rush at him. The report of two single gunshots echo throughout the hall. The incoming rounds hiss through the air and strike the creatures in the sides of their heads. They stumble a few paces before they crumble to the tile floor face first.

  I scan for the shooter, but can’t spot him.

  “Come here, now!” I motion with my hands for Duke to come back to me.

  Duke approaches the motionless bodies. He cautiously leans forward and sniffs their heads.

  More heavy footsteps capture his ears, and he turns to the hallway to our left. I dash over to him as a figure rushes out from the darkness. I lift the wrench in the air, ready to bludgeon the undead creature until I’m satisfied it’s no longer a threat.

  Duke lunges at the shadowy figure, but I grab his collar before he can put too much distance between us.

  “Hold on, boy.” I spot a rifle clutched in the man’s hand. He brings it up and trains it at me and Duke.

  My free hand springs up into the air. “Hold on, wait,” I plead. “I’m not infected.”

  A bright light flashes to life. The beam hits me in the face, and causes my eyes to shut from the harsh transition.

  The yowls from the chasers echo through the halls. The gunfire will no doubt bring them this way soon.

  It takes him a moment, but he finally trains his weapon to the floor. He stumbles to his right and deflates against the wall. I turn on my flashlight.

  “What the hell are you doing down here, kid?” The soldier grimaces in pain. A portion of his neck is missing a chunk of flesh. He’ll be joining the chasers soon.

  “We’re trying to make it to the stairwell, so we can get back up to the third floor,” I answer.

  A cacophony of the chasers grunting and charging this way sends the soldier’s head twisting to his left. It sounds like a stampede of cattle.

  He rolls to the left, and fights to bring up his rifle. “Go, kid. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

  He unloads on the incoming horde, keeping his finger over the trigger. Fire spits from the barrel like dragon’s breath. With my hand still clasped around Duke’s collar, we race across the hallway.

  The pounding of the rifle hammers my ears like a drum. I glance to my left and find a mass of dead bodies charging down the hallway at us—a tidal wave of teeth and mangled flesh.

  Bullets tear through their bodies. The impact areas sprout blooms of red that do little to thwart their advancement. The chasers know there’s food within reach, and they are going to trudge through whatever is before them to get to it.

  I release my hold from Duke’s collar. We sprint as hard and fast as we can in the direction of the stairwell. I keep my sights fixed for the entrance that should be along the right side of the wall.

  The hammering of the soldier’s rifle ceases. A gut-wrenching squeal echoes down the hall before he falls silent. All that remains is the mass of chasers who are hot on our trail.

  They’re close. Their insatiable growls tickle my neck. They keep behind me stride for stride.

  I spot the entrance.

  I veer to the right and race to the door. I push down on the handle and throw it open. It slams against the wall with a dull thud that echoes throughout the enclosed area. I don’t bother trying to secure it in place. There isn’t any time; the creatures are too close.

  Up the stairs we fly. I pant hard, my legs stinging and aching, but I fight on.

  The chasers charge inside. I glance back and find nothing more than a blob of bloody flesh and opened mouths fighting to get in. They push and shove their way through the doorway, trampling each other.

  They make for the stairs, and head up after me.

  Gunfire erupts from within the ether of darkness a few floors up from me. Bullets whiz by like fireflies on a hot summer’s night.

  The tracers find their marks, nailing some of the chasers in the tops of their heads. They crumple to the stairs as the remaining mass of infected trample over their bodies.

  Duke and I keep moving up the second flight of stairs. We hit the landing and make the bend. What few chasers survived the initial onslaught of hellfire from above close the gap.

  Greedy fingers grab at my clothing. They try to snare the back of my shirt. I yank and contort my body out of the way. They snarl, and maintain their pursuit. My left hand glides up the railing, stabilizing my body as the chasers close the gap between us.

  Something hits my ankle and trips me up. I fall flat on my stomach on the stairs. A chaser climbs on top of me, and fights to bite me anywhere it can. I scream out and battle the undead creature for my life. I thrash about, struggling to escape before it can sink its disease-ridden teeth into my flesh.

  Duke engages the creatures. He bites and strikes with his claws. The chasers switch their focus to him. He drives them back and down the stairs.
>
  I flip over onto my back and scramble to my feet. He doesn’t let up, fighting with every ounce of protective aggression to keep the chasers from getting any closer.

  More surge up the stairs—an endless river of bodies. Duke can’t maintain holding the creatures back for too long. He won’t make it.

  I hurl the wrench at one of the chasers. It spins end over end, and smashes into the chaser’s face. Dazed, it stumbles about before toppling over the side of the railing.

  A pistol discharges right by my head. My body flinches and tightens up. The remaining chasers Duke is battling with are taken out with headshots. I glance to my right and find Commander Reynolds standing just a few steps above me.

  “Come on!” He places a hand on my shoulder and tugs.

  His voice is unable to overpower the pummeling cacophony of gunfire from the landing above us. I dart down the stairs and grab Duke’s collar. My boots step over dispatched chasers who cover the stairs and landing.

  Duke gallops up the stairs past me. Commander Reynolds continues firing as we retreat to the third floor.

  The continual discharging of the rifles batters my ears. They’re ringing loudly and hurt something fierce. The yellow and orange flashes from the muzzle of the rifle illuminates the soldier’s face in a portrait of panic and determination. He’s leaning over the railing, spraying anything that moves.

  Commander Reynolds stops and stands next to him as I dart inside the hall. I twist about and watch the grim scene, unsure if they’ll be able to stop the surge of infected.

  The soldier’s rifle falls silent. He back peddles and pats the commander on his shoulder. Both men fall back into the third floor and slam the door. They take positions on either side of the door with their weapons firmly gripped.

  “Fire in the hole!” the commander yells out.

  A thunderous roar looms from the stairwell. The floor beneath my feet vibrates and shudders. Duke cowers by my side as I drop to the floor and shield him.

  The surge of energy from the blast bears down on the door. The shrills of the chasers dying fills my ringing ears.