BOOK 2
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Copyright
Survival Road
Copyright © 2019 by Derek Shupert
Cover design by Derek Shupert
Cover art by Covers by Christian
Cover Copyright © 2019 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.
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Derek Shupert
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First Edition
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
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
DEAD STATE EXECUTIONER
Author Notes
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Dead State Series
Survive the End Series
Afflicted Series
Ballistic Mech Series
Also by Derek Shupert
About the Author
Dedication
I wouldn’t be able to write without those who support me. I thank you for your encouragement and being there for me.
To those that read my books, I thank you for your support.
Survival Road
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CHATPER ONE
If Dad could see me now, what would he think? Would he be proud of my resolve, and how I’ve handled myself since the virus ripped him away from my family? Forced my hand to do the unthinkable.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t really know. He taught me to be strong. To be resilient. Sometimes, doing the right thing is hard.
I always thought he’d be around forever. Guess life had other plans.
The burly man before me shifts his eyes down to his shotgun which is clutched in my left hand. He remains still, though. Motionless. He’s getting antsy, though, from the slight twitch of his fingers and shifting of his weight. He tries to maintain his collected demeanor, but his fingers twitch. Lips purse together as he subtly shifts his weight from his left to his right leg. I double down, and hold the rifle firm in his direction. No head shots, just center mass placement for the living. Placing a bullet in the brains of the infected is really the only sure-fire way I have found to take them down quickly.
Duke, my faithful dog and companion in this nightmare, stays by my side—obedient, for now.
The man points at me. “Listen, kid, I’m not going to hurt you. I’d feel a bit more open to talk, though, if you pointed that rifle away from me. I’d hate for you to get excited, and accidently shoot me.”
Is it bad that I find his remark insulting? A sarcastic response tiptoes the edge of my tongue, but I hold my words.
“You’re not going to have to worry about that. I know how to handle a rifle.” My face remains stern, malevolent eyes locked with his. Life has taught me lessons that I never thought I would have to learn. Especially at this young of an age. But it has, and I fear the lesson is only beginning.
He glances back over his shoulder to his truck, then back to me. “I’m not sure why you want to go to Portland, but if you lower the weapon, we can talk about it.”
I’m hesitant to relinquish my advantage, but given the circumstances, and the lack of transportation options, I don’t have a choice.
I sling the shotgun over my shoulder, and train the rifle away from him. My finger remains over the trigger, ready to fire if need be.
“Just to let you know, I have no problem killing you if you try something. So, I’d keep that in mind,” I say.
He cuts his eyes to the cabin. No doubt in search of the other armed men that I told him were positioned at the windows. A little white lie to keep him from trying anything stupid.
He nods, and slowly lowers his arms down to his side. “Fair enough. You mind telling the others to lower their weapons as well?”
I briefly glance at the cabin.
“There’s no one else in there. It’s just us.”
The man cranes his neck, and narrows his eyes past me. Guess he felt I was being deceitful. “Well played.”
Duke groans. His back-leg springs up, and his paw digs into his dense, yellow fur. He works his way up his back to the side of his head.
The man points toward Duke. “I had a dog similar to him way back when. They can be headstrong, but great companions.”
My eyes cut down to Duke, who ceases his vigorous scratching. He glances up to me and licks around his snout. “Yeah. He can be a pain in the butt for sure, but he’s my pain in the butt.”
The man takes a single cautious step toward us. He extends his hand out. “My name is Lucas, by the way.”
Cautiously, I reciprocate the gesture. “James. This is Duke.”
Lucas trains his attention on Duke, who remains alert, with his ears on end, but doesn’t bear his teeth or crouch down. “May I?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t seem to think you’re a threat. After all, he did run up to you and roll over onto his back. Not exactly intimidating when they flash their junk at you.”
Lucas takes a few steps toward Duke and bends down. He extends his arm out slowly, gauging Duke’s temperament. A low, muffled growl emits from Duke, but only briefly. Lucas pauses. His fingers gently move in front of Duke’s face.
Duke’s nose tests Lucas’ scent. He licks the ends of Lucas’ dingy fingers. Duke leans forward, allowing Lucas’ palm to stroke the back of his head.
I scoff under my breath. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re going soft there, boy.”
Duke’s ears stand on end and twitch. He gets up to all fours, and trains his attention to the woods to our right. No growling, but just a rigid, concentrated stance.
“Something wrong?” Lucas shoots up and follows his gaze.
“Probably just an animal. Generally, if there are chasers close by, he’ll get into more of a defensive p
osition.” I lean the rifle against my shoulder, and place the side of my right hand just above my brow. I skim over the tree line, trying to penetrate the dense green and brown foliage.
Befuddled, Lucas cuts his gaze over to me. “Chasers?”
“Yeah. That’s what they’re called. At least, that is what I heard them called on the news back when all this first started. Seems fitting since they chase after you.”
Duke bolts toward the trees. His pace hastens. He closes the distance to the tree line fast.
“Guess he found something worth investigating,” Lucas mentions.
“Appears so.” I don’t give a second thought to Duke running into the unknown. He’s a smart dog.
Besides, since this nightmare began, I’ve had to change my view on things. More has happened to me in the last month than in my entire life. People I have loved were taken from me. Friends, new and old, are now just a thought that I carry with me. I’m not the scared, timid little boy that I was.
This event, whatever it is, has forced me to evolve. Forced me to harden my feelings, and not allow the sadness to cripple me.
Lucas focuses his attention back to me. “So, what’s in Portland?”
“Family.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lucas rubs the back of his neck. He shifts his eyes to the truck and lets out a deep sigh. “You know Portland is overrun with those chaser things, right?”
The news rattles me some, causing my eyes to widen slightly, but I remain steadfast in my decision to find them. My resolve in getting to Mom and Cindy are cemented. It’s going to happen.
“First off, regardless of the state that Portland is currently in, I’m not going to change my mind. Secondly, my mom and sister were taken to a safe zone in one of the smaller towns on the outskirts of the city. They didn’t say which one, though.”
Doubt floods Lucas’ face. Concern fills his eyes as he briefly looks away. “One of the safe zones closest to us, that I’m aware of, is on the outskirts of Portland. The military was setting up a few outside the major cities in each state for residents to go to. Last I heard, though, they were unable to contain the infected, and all sites were overrun. Meaning, no survivors.”
“And you know this for a fact? That there are no survivors at all? What if whoever told you this was wrong or misinformed?”
Lucas rubs the scruff on the side of his face. He removes his ball cap, and runs his fingers through his damp hair as he chews on my rebuttal.
Duke dashes back over to us. His tongue dangles out of his mouth. He pants hard as he plops his backside down on the ground next to me.
Lucas finally responds. “That is true, but it’s a really big gamble none the less. I don’t know what you have gone through since this whole outbreak started, but I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with those chasers out here where it’s less populated. Going to a major metropolitan city, or anywhere close to one, where the population is exponentially larger is nothing short of a suicide mission.” Lucas points to the mass of trees all around us. “I’m sorry, James, but I just can’t do that. I hope you understand.”
His words are like a thousand fists punching me without pause. My heart sinks. What little faith I have left lingering in my body teeters on the brink of leaving me for good. With a flood of emotions fighting to take me over, I remain strong. I remain... hopeful. Afterall, Mom and Cindy are all I have left in this world.
“I understand. And I hope you understand that I’m taking that truck with or without you. Your choice.” The rifle lowers from my shoulder and back in the direction of Lucas. His eyes enlarge, and he takes a step back. His brows lift in the air, and his hands follow suit.
“Listen, James, I know how you feel. I-”
“I don’t think you do.” I snap back angrily. My emotions are on the cusp of a volcanic eruption. “I lost my best friend, killed my father after he got infected, and the only other people in this world right now that mean anything to me are possibly in that safe zone. I have been through too much to stop now.”
Tears fill my eyes. My hands tremble with remorse and anger.
Lucas’ expression of surprise quickly turns to a sympathetic nod. I wasn’t looking to make him feel guilty or to gain any pity. I just wanted him to know where I was coming from, and why I was doing what I was.
“All right, James,” he solemnly says.
“All right, what?” I respond through a slight whimper of agitation.
“I’ll help find your mom and sister.”
Duke brushes up against me. His head tilts upward as he rests his snout on my leg.
“I don’t need you to come with me, or do me any favors. I can handle myself.” That is a lie. I do need him, but relying on people now seems almost pointless. I’ve been let down so often by circumstances beyond my control, and theirs, that I’m almost scared to try again. Death seems to loom large no matter where I go, and it claims those that are along for the ride. But I’m desperate, and right now, he’s my only option.
I hold firm as I battle the doubt eating away at my insides.
“I can see that,” Lucas replies. His attention shifts to the truck. From the unsteady gaze upon his face, he doesn’t seem to have much faith in it. “This truck here can be temperamental, and the last thing you want is to be in a bad situation when it breaks down with no way of fixing it.”
What Lucas states is true. I know less than nothing about vehicles. Hell, I haven’t even gotten my driver’s license yet. I doubt the highway patrol is going to care much, though, for a fifteen-year-old kid driving when the world is burning down around us. Do they even still exist?
He points to the cabin. “Why don’t we go inside and hash out the details. I’m a bit tired and would like to collect my thoughts if we can. You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee in there, would you?”
I lower the rifle, and train the barrel toward the ground. As much as I’m geared up to jump in the truck and leave right away, I agree with him. Probably would be best to lay everything out first. He seems to know a lot more than me about what is going on at the moment.
He does look a bit haggard and beaten down. The deep black and blue circles that fester under both his worn eyes reaffirm his request. The only way this will work is if we are both focused and alert.
“Not sure if there is any coffee or not. I imagine my father probably had some stashed somewhere in the cabin. Come on, boy.”
My hand pats my leg. Duke springs to his feet and dashes toward the cabin. Lucas follows close behind as we step up on the porch, and go inside.
I remove the shotgun from my shoulder, and lean it against the wall to the left of the door. I place the rifle right next to it as Lucas pauses at the opening.
He remains silent. His head cocks to the left, and he slowly surveys the defunct space. I can only imagine what is going through his head as he soaks in the disarray and chaos.
“Cozy.” His tone is void of any mockery and without intonation.
I sift through the upper cabinets first, in search of the caffeinated brew. Each is still fairly stocked with can goods and spices. The cellar below is where the main food supply is held. That’s also where the generator is that feeds the cabin its power.
I have been down there once since arriving here to replenish the food. It always gives me the creeps, and I always try to avoid its dungeon-like flavor whenever possible.
Glass crunches under my boots as I move past the sink. My hands dig inside the next set of light brown oak cabinets when I spot my dad’s favorite blend. Folgers dark roast.
The bag is mostly empty and rolled down to nearly the bottom. He probably has more in the cellar. Hopefully, this will appease Lucas.
I turn and show him the bag. “Found some. Not sure how much it will make, but it’s better than nothing.”
He steps over the fallen lamps and other debris that litters the wooden floor. “Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s been about a week since I’ve had a cup. When you’ve drunk as much coff
ee as I have over the years, a week can feel like decades. I’m grateful for whatever I get. If it’s weak, then I’ll still savor every drop.”
The coffee maker sits at the ready. Just how Dad liked to keep it. Being the forward-thinking individual he was, he always wanted the things he used daily to be ready to go. His coffee machine was no exception. I imagine Mom prepped the machine for when we arrived.
The water reservoir is filled to the top notch. A single paper filter rests in the bin where the coffee is placed. Considering that I’ve never made a cup before, I wing it.
I unfold the top, and dump the contents inside. I give the reddish bag a single shake, making sure every last little bit has been extracted from the bag.
The rich aroma fills my nose. It makes me think of the morning all this started. Me, being the irritable, cranky teenager who didn’t want to crawl out of bed and go hunting, begrudgingly appeasing my father. After all, he wanted nothing more than to spend quality time with me.
“Do you need some help, James?” Lucas calls out from across the room.
“Nope. I got it.” I close the lid, and press the power button. The coffee maker hums, and quickly begins to dispense the dark rich brew into the glass carafe under the black nozzle. I retrieve two white coffee mugs from the cabinet to my right, and place them on the counter. I turn to face the cluttered mess of the cabin and lean back against the counter’s edge.
“This cabin is actually really nice. When Duke and I arrived here, this is how we found it. Place got overrun with chasers. Guess after my mom and sister left, they lost interest and moved on.”
Lucas walks toward the stairs and pauses. His head tilts downward. His gaze trails up each step to the landing. I imagine the pool of blood and brain matter from the chaser I dispatched from upstairs snags his fixed stare.
“Seems as though your mom and sister were fortunate to elude the creatures.”
I point to the upstairs section of the cabin. “They had one trapped inside a closest near the landing. I didn’t really want to mess with it, but the continual striking of the door made it sound like it was going to give way any moment. So, I let it out and bludgeoned it in the back of the head with a hammer. It toppled down the stairs. Wasn’t a pretty sight.”
Dead State: Survival Road (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 2) Page 1