Dead State (Book 5): Evolved

by Shupert, Derek

  A loud crashing noise nearby causes me to flinch and to bring the rifle to bear. It sounds like wood splintering. What is going on out there?

  Bill backs away from the entrance with his hands out in front of him. His palms are facing down. His head pivots from side to side as he tries to hone in on the source of the fracas.

  The carbine is pressed snug to my shoulder. My finger slips over the trigger.

  “What are they doing?” I whisper.

  Bill shoots me a concerned glance. “They’re looking for us.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  More wood splinters.

  The yowls from the chasers double, then triple.

  The creatures aren’t leaving the area until they find us.

  Great.

  Duke’s up on all fours and by my side. His ears are folded back, and he’s baring his fangs. He wants to bark. That deep, throated growl surges from his chest. I present my palm in front of his face to keep him from barking and giving away our position.

  Bill has his gear strapped to his back and the sniper rifle slung across his body. The lantern’s gleam has been reduced to nothing more than a dull flicker of light. The room is shrouded in shadows.

  “Are they going from room to room looking for us?” I inquire.

  Bill nods. He cycles a round into the pistol that he fetched from his gear. He trains it at the entrance.

  “That’s what it sounds like to me. I told you they were evolving. This is the first time I’ve come across this, though. I’ve given them the slip a handful of times up here. Guess they’ve learned that I’m still somewhere close by,” he whispers back.

  The chasers batter the door across the hall from us. The cracking of the wood rips a gasp from me. Bill flinches, but maintains his rigid stance in the middle of the space with his pistol trained dead ahead.

  I move back toward the rear of the room. I’m unfamiliar with the layout of the building, so I’m lost as to where to go if and when we flee from here.

  “We’re going to have to do something. They’ll be checking these rooms soon, and I don’t want to be caught with my back against the wall when a wave of dead funnel into here.”

  Bill runs his hand over his face. He glances to the table top, then the door to the room we’re in.

  “I’ve got a plan. Not sure if it’ll work or not, but it’s all I got.” Bill secures the pistol between the waistband of his jeans and makes for the couch. He stoops down and grabs the bottom. He lifts up and pivots the bulky, torn furniture away from the door.

  Each squeak and scratch of the feet grinding against the scarred wooden floor stops him. We listen for a reaction from the creatures. The chasers grunt and mumble from outside the hallway, but aren’t drawn to us, yet.

  The carbine remains taut to my shoulder with the barrel trained at the door.

  Bill shifts the couch a bit more away from the door. He lowers it down, then digs his hand into his back pocket. He pulls out a long, narrow object and presses his thumb against the side. A blade springs from the tip.

  “Turn that lantern off, will ya?”

  I look to the lantern, then back to him. Bill steps around the couch and heads for the door. He reaches up to the top left corner of the tape that is fixed around the door and jamb. He pauses, then looks over his shoulder to me.

  “James, the light.”

  I step softly over the floor, trying to minimize any additional noise that could attract the chasers. I turn off the lantern, and the room is cast in darkness.

  It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the space. I spot the vague outline of Bill’s body. He looks to be nothing more than a shadowy blob. I’m offered hints of movement as his slides across the entrance of the door.

  The chasers remain within the area. They scour the spaces close to us without being quiet or stealthy. More crashes and loud bangs fill the air. Duke’s growling increases in volume.

  “Be quiet, boy,” I whisper to him. He groans and eases off, but the growling is still there.

  Bill finishes cutting through the tape and stands positioned in front of the door. He turns toward me and motions for us to come closer. I hope Bill’s plan is a good one.

  I move past the couch with Duke in tow. I lean in close.

  Bill rests the side of his head against the door. “I’m going to draw their attention to the room next to us. When they funnel inside there, I want you two to haul ass out of here and down the hallway.” He points in the opposite direction from which we came. “There’s a stairwell at the end of the hall that will take you down to the street below. You keep running no matter what.”

  I gulp, then offer an understanding nod. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be close behind. This isn’t the worst jam I’ve ever been in.” Bill shimmies past me and Duke. He skirts around the couch, and heads for the table top. He rolls the bulky wooden top out of the way, revealing the blackness of the room next to us. Bill offers a reassuring nod before he ducks down, and disappears into the space.

  I look to the door, and take in a deep breath of air. My fingers reposition over the carbine. I’m nervous and afraid. The chasers are more lethal now than ever before.

  “Whatever happens, boy, you stay behind me, and don’t stop, ok?” I say.

  Duke groans, then yawns. I’ll take that as a yes.

  I grab the doorknob, and turn it clockwise. It squeaks and clicks. The sharp noise within the dull silence forces me to stop. I listen for a reaction from the chasers. Nothing. Phew.

  Tension spews from my trembling lips as I twist it further. The carbine shakes some in my unsteady hand. I try to stay the uneasiness building inside of me, but my heart beats faster the more I twist the doorknob.

  The door pops free of the jamb. I pull it toward me. The rust on the hinges sounds off, low and subtle. I pause and listen.

  Heavy footsteps pound the floors close by. Simple grunts fill my ears. I peer through the narrow opening out into the dark hallway. I can’t spot the creatures, but I can hear them. This plan of Bill’s better work. If he ditches us, we’re screwed.

  Two dense raps on the door from the other room sound off. The chasers’ feet hammer the floor, charging this way.

  I close the door and lean against it. The side of my head presses to the rigid wood grain and I listen. I’m waiting for the right moment to book it out of the room.

  Bill continues to yell and batter the door in the other room until the creatures come to investigate. It’s muffled, but I can somewhat hear what he’s saying.

  “In here! Come and get me, you bastards!”

  The combined grunts and screeches of the chasers build to a frenzy as they strike the door to the room. Fists pound and the dead yowl. The fear swelling inside of me tries to paralyze my body, and keep me from doing what I know I must, but I stay the course and push on.

  The door in the other room slams into the wall with a dense thud. I flinch. Multiple footsteps pound into the space.

  Sharp reports of gunfire sound off. Two deep breaths are sucked in as I crack open the door and peer out into the hallway. It looks clear.

  “Come on, boy,” I say to Duke.

  We step out into the hallway. Bright flashes of muzzle fire gleam from the room next to the one we just left as round after round is chambered from Bill’s pistol. The chasers yowl. With the carbine shouldered, we take off down the long stretch of hallway.

  I keep my attention focused straight ahead as I repeat Bill’s words over and over again inside my head, so the fear doesn’t consume me or distract my thoughts from where I’m heading.

  Take the stairwell at the end of the hallway. Get to the street.

  It seems straight forward, and it is, but the creatures could be anywhere waiting for us to run right into their gaunt bodies and disease infested mouths.

  I pull the carbine tighter against my shoulder and sweep the hallway for any threats. Both Duke and me are running as fast and hard as we can. Each discharge of Bill’s we
apon makes me wonder if he is going to make it out alive, or are the chasers going to add another living soul to their undead army.

  Multiple yowls echo down the hallway from the way we came. I sneak a peek over my shoulder, and find two ghastly gray figures sprinting after us.

  Damn it.

  Duke gallops next to me and matches me stride for stride. Small beams of light radiate from some of the rooms and holes in the drywall that we zip past. The end of the hallway is coming up. I’m on the lookout for the stairwell.

  The gunfire has ebbed, and so have my hopes that Bill has survived the chasers who were after him. Once again, Duke and me are on our own, fighting an enemy that has evolved and become an even better predator.

  I skim over the doors that are coming up. I can’t remember what side of the hallway he said the stairwell was on. I’m trying to think, but the chasers are close behind, and will catch up to us in no time. I can’t afford to stop and linger for too long. Any advantage we have will vanish.

  I glance over each doorway as we pass by. It should have a symbol of stairs on the front.

  Duke growls and barks.

  “No, Duke. Keep moving, boy,” I command through panted breaths. I have to keep him moving forward, and not let him give in to his protective instincts to engage the creatures.

  I catch sight of what looks to be the stair symbol on a door that we fly pass. I stop and back pedal to double check.

  Eureka!

  I work the handle up and down. It doesn’t budge. It’s jammed or locked. I ram the door with my shoulder. Each strike sends a pulse of pain to my head and the rest of my body. I grumble, but can’t let up.

  I take two steps back and ram it harder. Metal crunches and the door bursts open. We rush inside as the chasers close in. I slam the door and press against it, ensuring that its secured.

  Duke’s barks echo in the enclosed stairwell. He faces the door, and growls as the chasers pummel the obstacle that stands in their way. The door gives some with each hateful and enraged strike the chasers deal.

  The carbine springs up and trains at the door. Quick breaths escape my lips as I back into the metal railing.

  Light from above shines down through the gaping hole in the roof of the structure. It brings to life the drab interior of the stairwell. I cock my head to the side and peer down to the lower levels which gradually grow dimmer. I don’t see or hear any movement from below. The clamoring from the chasers beyond the door near us skews that.

  I skirt the railing and head for the stairs. The Carbine sweeps the defunct stairwell for any dead who may be concealed in the darkness as we make our way down each flight. The chasers fight to break through the door from above. Their screeches lessen and fade the farther down we go.

  Duke matches me step for step, and growls if he catches wind of something that doesn’t agree with him.

  I sweep the entrances to each floor as we hit the landing. We stay on the move, and try not to linger for too long. Each step sends a shockwave of misery that floods the battered portions of my body. I want to stop, to take a moment to catch my breath, and to give my aching body a reprieve from the punishment I am doling out to it.

  The chasers break through the door, and rush into the stairwell. I stop on a dime and pivot on the heels of my boots. The carbine trains at the landing that’s two floors above us. We’ve gained some distance, but it isn’t enough.

  We’re back on the run, moving faster down each flight as the creatures chase after us. Their persistent yowls taint the air. I struggle to control my breathing which becomes more rapid with each passing second.

  I spot movement from the landing we’re racing toward. The silhouette of a figure stumbles out of the doorway and spins about. It jerks from side to side, searching for the noise heading its way.

  The chaser’s rail thin-frame turns in our direction and its gaunt arms span out to either side. It offers a hoarse growl as it rushes at us. I open fire.

  Fire spits from the muzzle of the carbine.

  The sharp report hammers my head.

  The swarm of rounds pelts the chaser’s chest and head. They tear through the dead creature and exit through its back and skull. The wall and door are painted with blood.

  A faint yowl escapes the chaser’s mouth as it crumbles to the landing. We hop over the dead body, and continue on down the remaining flights of stairs.

  I catch wind of yowls that aren’t coming from behind us. I grab the railing and peer down to the dark abyss below us. More shadowy figures scurry in the darkness. Grunts and heavy breathing send an unsettling sensation that slithers over me. I look up top and snag a brief glimpse of the dead coming for their meal. We’re sandwiched by the chasers. We have to make a move, or we’re goners.

  Fast and furious, we traverse the remaining steps and hit the landing. We can’t head down any farther. We have to find another way.

  In a mad dash, we bolt for the wide-open door that leads into the floor we’re on. Copious amounts of the sun’s strident rays beam through the busted windows, and bring to life the defunct hall. It’s a welcome sight.

  I hug the jamb, and continue my hastened pace. Three frail chasers rush our way. I squeeze the trigger and fire a short burst at the incoming creatures. The gunfire rips through their chests and stomachs with little effort. They stumble and slam into one another, but they push on.

  Damn it. No headshots.

  I’m not great at firing while on the run. I just hope that spraying the creatures will strike them in the sweet spot.

  Duke surges forward, lunges at the group of dead, and collides with the creatures. He takes two of the chasers down, knocking them hard to the floor. Only one remains standing.

  The chaser rushes at me with arms stretched out. Fingers reach for my body. Its mouth chomps, and teeth chatter as grunts slip from his lips.

  I tilt the barrel of the carbine up a few degrees, and squeeze the trigger. The rifle barks and fires a single round into the middle of the chaser’s skull. Brain matter and a fine-red-mist explode from the back of its head. I lower my shoulder, and ram the creature, knocking it to the floor.

  Duke bites, and claws at the two chasers he took down. They fight to bite any part of his body their teeth can manage to clamp onto. His ears are folded back, and his snout is scrunched up as he presents his glistening fangs.

  I’m leery of opening fire on the creatures for fear of hitting Duke. My marksmanship is less than to be desired. I flip the carbine around and ram the stock end of the rifle into the side of the closest chaser’s head.

  The creature’s head snaps to the side, and its body slumps over. The chaser shakes its head, snarls, and shifts its focus from Duke to me. I strike again, and continue pummeling the chaser’s bloody and disfigured face until it ceases to move.

  The stampede of dead from the stairwell draws closer. The combined yowls of the enraged chasers grow to a fever pitch.

  “Come on, boy!” I grab Duke by the collar, and yank him free of the creature’s arm he’s biting.

  He resists, lunging toward the chaser who is on the floor, reaching for him. I pull harder, and manage to get Duke to turn around as more of the creatures funnel out from the stairwell.

  They clamor and skim over the hallway in search of the source of the noise. We sprint down the hallway.

  We’re back on the run with an ever-growing horde of dead hot on our heels. We follow the flow of the hallway and round the bend. I peer over my shoulder to see how close the chasers are. Their screeches and heavy breathing lets me know they’re still close by, even though I can’t see them.

  I shift my focus back in front of me as the floor drops out from underneath us. I fall forward and lose my balance. My hands release the carbine as I stumble down the slanted chunk of wood flooring and land flat on my stomach.

  The air rips from my lungs as gravity throws me end over end. My world spins so fast I’m clueless as to where I’m going to land.

  I fight to slow my descent, reaching for a
nything I might be able to grab hold of. I crash through a portion of wall that is rotted and free fall for a few seconds before hitting the ground.

  The wind explodes out of me. My body is riddled with pain that courses through every muscle fiber. A deep throbbing pounds my head. It hurts to even think.

  The palms of my hands press into the grass. I push up when I hear the shuffling of footsteps. It could be Duke. I hope it is, at least.

  “Is that you, boy?” I force the words from my mouth, my lungs still aching from lack of air.

  I’m offered no barks or groans to indicate that it’s him.

  The footsteps creep closer, and I hear that familiar panting that causes me to freeze. There’s more than one from the sounds of it. They snarl and growl as they approach my battered body.

  I don’t dare look that way. A billion possible scenarios of how I could flee rush through my mind. Stand up and just run away, or engage the vile creatures until the bitter end. None are feasible, though, considering that I’m struggling to pick myself up off the ground.

  The chasers have me dead to rights, and I am powerless to stop whatever ill fate is in store for me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The hardest part is the wait. With certain doom looming over me, I close my eyes, and accept what is about to happen.

  Go ahead, do your worst. I hope you choke to death on my bones.

  The ends of my fingers burrow into the dirt, then ball into fists. I grit my teeth, waiting for the chasers to do their worst. I glance out of the corner of my eye, and find the vague outline of two sets of legs standing a few feet away. Their bare feet dip below the blades of grass that reach to their ankles. They just stand there.

  A thump hits the ground near me. My body flinches, then tightens in fear. A whimper falls from my lips. I wish I had the carbine or even the machete that I had when we first arrived at the hospital where Cindy was being kept. Something of use that I can defend myself with. Being defenseless is no way to go out. Dad would want me to fight till the last little bit of life is torn from my body.