Dead State: Survival Road (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 2)

by Derek Shupert

  Lucas nods with a slight grimace. “I imagine it wasn’t.” He turns back toward me and places his hands on his hips. “How long have you been here by yourself?”

  “Roughly a month. Fortunately, we haven’t seen any chasers or anyone else. Which, to be honest, is kind of a relief. I haven’t had a good track record with the dead, or the living for that matter. Since the world has descended into madness, the living can almost be as bad as the chasers.”

  Duke jumps up on the couch. He moves in a circular pattern and sniffs each cushion before he plops down.

  Lucas closes his eyes, and slightly tilts his head back. His nose tests the air. He breathes in deeply, then slowly exhales out through his lips. “Man, you never know what you miss until it’s not readily available.”

  I never understood the intense relationship people have with coffee. My dad lived by it, at least three times a day. I’m surprised he didn’t have an IV drip placed into his arm that pumped the stuff directly into his veins.

  Don’t get me wrong, the handful of times I was able to try it without Mom catching me, it definitely jolted my system. Then again, it didn’t seem to take much to do that. Probably why Mom was so against it.

  Lucas moves about the clutter and comes over to the kitchen area.

  I step out of the way of the coffee maker. “We’ve probably got some sugar somewhere around here. Not sure about creamer, though.”

  He grabs one of the white mugs and dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “Don’t need it. I’ve never been a big fan of that sort of thing. Just give me the java hot and black, and I’m good to go.” Lucas grips the black handle to the carafe. He pulls it away from its housing. The brew is still being dispensed as he carefully places the mug under the spout to catch it. He fills his mug full to the rim and slides the carafe back into place.

  Steam lifts into the air. His worn and callused hands gingerly grasp the sides of the mug as he brings it up to his mouth. He blows gently against the scalding hot liquid before taking a sip.

  “How is it?” I inquire. I’m curious to hear how my first cup of coffee is. Not that it was overly complicated or anything.

  Lucas downs a few more sips. “Good stuff. Are you going to get a cup?”

  “Perhaps in a bit.” I cock my head to the right of Lucas, and look out of the kitchen window at the truck. The thought of getting to Mom and Cindy really invigorates my withering spirit. I wasn’t overly keen on leaving the cabin and going at this daunting task of getting to the safe zone on foot. I just hope Lucas’ truck is up to the task.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Duke’s been persistent in licking his private area for the better part of ten minutes. Man, that turns my stomach. Just the sound of it makes me shiver. Lucas hauls his cup of coffee over to the living area. He sits down in the chair across from Dad’s recliner. I follow suit, and settle in on the couch.

  Duke ceases the nauseating activity, finally. He inches over to me and tries to lick my face. I halt his loving, and gross, gesture all the same.

  A calmness floods over Lucas almost instantly. He leans his head back against the chair’s cushion, and briefly closes his eyes. His large frame sinks into the seat.

  His head tilts to the left, and his gaze hones in on me. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “One hundred percent sure.” Duke rests his head in my lap. My hand gently strokes the back of his head.

  Lucas takes two more sips of his coffee. He sets the mug down on the rustic, solid wood coffee table before us. “Ok. Just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t going to be easy and will be extremely dangerous.” Lucas rubs his hands together as he looks about the cabin.

  His subtle yet obvious gesture is not lost to me. I had planned on sweetening the pot a little for him agreeing to accompany me on this most harrowing trek.

  “I’m not blind to the dangers that lay ahead of us. I’m also aware that this could end badly for both of us, regardless if I do find them or not at the safe zone. With that being said, what else would you require to stay any second thoughts about bailing on me?”

  Lucas lifts his right brow. I have piqued his interest. He leans forward and strokes the thick, black stubble on his square chin. The wheels turn inside his head as he scans the cabin’s furnishings.

  “As much food and water as I can take, for starters. Maybe any additional ammo that you may have as well.”

  “Done and done. Not sure what all ammo my dad had stocked in the cellar, but we can check it out and see. To be honest, I’m not tied too much to anything else here, so whatever you want to take, it’s yours. The odds of me and my family coming back here are pretty slim.”

  Lucas downs another gulp of the coffee. He shakes his head. “To be honest, you’ll fair much better out in the middle of nowhere than you will in a major city, or close to one. You significantly reduce the number of infected that you’ll likely have an encounter with in rural areas.”

  His words ring true. I hadn’t thought of it from that angle. Although, I doubt we would want to come back to a place that holds so many dear memories. Especially, after Mom finds out that Dad is dead, and that I’m the one who did it.

  “I imagine once we leave here, someone will probably come across the cabin. If they don’t stay, I bet they’ll strip it of anything useful. I don’t think my mother and sister will want to come back here regardless.”

  Lucas shrugs. “It’s your call. A place like this, during a world-altering event, is ideal. Not sure you should dismiss the notion entirely. At least, I wouldn’t.”

  Not that I have the final say so by any means, but I know my mom. She doesn’t care for this place like Dad did, but she always trusted what he said. He always said this was our fall back place in case anything catastrophic happened. I guess, since the chasers have been active in the area, that is no longer the case. Ultimately, it’ll be up to her on what we do.

  “All right. Now that is settled, when can we leave?”

  Lucas polishes off the rest of the java in his cup with a single gulp. He lifts up from the chair and makes his way back to the kitchen. He wasn’t kidding about liking his coffee.

  He steps in front of the coffee maker and pours another cup. His head drifts to the left slightly as he peers out of the window. He slides the carafe back into place and comes back over to his chair.

  “Depends. A trip like that, I’ll need to look at things on the truck to make sure it’s good to go.”

  I cast a disapproving stare in his direction. I shift my body weight on the couch, causing Duke to lift his head from my lap. “So, the truck isn’t running fine, then?”

  Lucas shakes his head. “Not at all. It runs, but not sure how it would handle a long drive like that. I picked it up about a week or so ago at a restaurant. It’s got some quirks and such, but I would rather go through it now while we have the luxury of not being in a bad way, where we have to bolt in a hurry.”

  I sigh. I get what he’s saying. I’m just not thrilled about it. “How long is that going to take?”

  “I’ll go out there shortly and pop the hood. I’ll have a better idea once I do that.”

  “Just so we’re clear here, our arrangement hinges on that truck running and being in a capable state of getting me to the safe zone.” The words spew from my lips as if I hold all the cards, and he is at my mercy. A knee jerk reaction. That’s all I can think. My body tenses. Truth be told, if he was so inclined, he could easily take what he wanted and leave. His rigid and gruff appearance makes that quite clear.

  Fortunately, Lucas doesn’t take offense. Not yet, anyways. I wish that I could take those words back, and not be so blunt and coarse with my attitude.

  “Agreed. I don’t think it’ll come to that, though. I’m pretty handy, and know my way around vehicles,” Lucas says.

  My body relaxes. The tension lessens within my muscles.

  “Great. If you need any parts for the truck, you can take whatever you need f
rom the car. It’s got a couple flat tires, but other than that, it should be good to go. I was hoping there might be some spares in the trunk, but there wasn’t any.”

  Lucas leans against the chair and sips his coffee. He gives me a thumbs up as he checks the time on his watch.

  “Do you have a bug out bag ready?” His words are lost on me. “Bug out bag?”

  He nods. “Yeah. A pack that is stocked with essential items that are ready to go if you need to evac an area in a hurry.”

  Come to think of it, I remember overhearing my dad and his army buddies mention this, or something similar. I never knew what they meant, or what it was for. Now I know what is meant by it. Besides, I’ve done this regularly when hunting with Dad. Well, close to it.

  “I do not,” I say. “What sort of supplies would I need to gather?”

  “I would just stick to the basics. First aid kit, flashlights, batteries, duct tape, trash bags, etc.” Lucas rattles the items off.

  “Wasn’t sure what you meant by bug out bag at first,” I say. “I have a pack somewhere around here with some stuff already socked away from when I left my house. I’ll have to see what I have. I imagine there is a good bit of those supplies here. Just need to find them.”

  Lucas smirks. He takes another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. That’s the survivalist/prepper coming out in me. I just assume everyone I speak too about this sort of thing knows exactly what I’m referring to.”

  I find his knowledge to be a big relief. It feels as though Dad is here with me in a sense. Like he’s looking out for me.

  “No worries. It sounded vaguely familiar. My dad used to talk to me about various survival tactics and all when we would go hunting. I think it’s safe to assume that a portion of his words fell on deaf ears.”

  Lucas snickers. “Your dad sounds like a good man.”

  “He... was.” An overwhelming sense of loss slams into me like a tidal wave. It has been over a month since that fateful day when Dad became infected with the virus. When his only teenage son had to take his life, to save his own.

  The image of me pulling the trigger still cooks in my memory. It is seared into my spirit and will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  My body deflates. Sadness overtakes me.

  Lucas clears his throat as the silence fills the space between us. “You know, it probably wouldn’t hurt to pack another bag for me as well. The one I have behind the seat in the truck is nearly depleted. I haven’t been able to replenish much of anything yet.”

  “Um, yeah. For sure.” I push Duke off me, and stand up. Duke jumps to the floor. “I’ll start working on that now.”

  Lucas nods in agreement. “I’m going to head outside, and start on the truck.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Lucas walks out of the cabin. Duke bolts out the door right behind him.

  My legs respond as though they are shackled to cinder blocks. A heavy imaginary weight presses down on my shoulders, causing me to slouch slightly. The strong wind of hope that had spurned me to keep living and pushing forward has been reduced to a slight breeze.

  I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I hold it for a moment before exhaling. The guilt is still there, following me no matter where I go. It’s like the stench on my clothes. It won’t go away.

  I need my mom and her caring touch. But ultimately, I need to share my grief and guilt with her. She’s the only person in this world who can mend my broken heart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When it rains, it floods.

  Of course, this would be my luck.

  The truck that Lucas tore ass into my life in is not as intact as he had originally thought. He rambles off a bunch of issues that need to be addressed before we attempt our suicide mission. Not my words, but more what he hints at.

  There is so much technical jargon that it completely goes over my head. That should’ve been evident from my crinkled nose, and my arms folded across my chest. To be honest, I think he suffered a temporary lapse and forgot whom he was telling this to.

  At first, I nodded, and tried to follow the mystic language he was speaking. I’d watch his hands as they quickly moved from part to part inside the greasy engine with a bewildered stare plastered on my face.

  He continued on.

  I ultimately conceded and rubbed the back of my neck. My eyes went wide with confusion. Anything other than a flat tire or plain English like, “It’s just broken,” and I’m done for.

  The light sprung to life in that moment on his face. He grumbled a few words, and finished with “I’ll just spare you the details and fix it.”

  Thank God.

  But, with the crap that has rained down upon me, there is a beacon of hope that rests near the cabin. Namely, the family’s car. After all, it’s just sitting there with no useful purpose. I mean, with multiple flat tires and no spares, it is nothing more than a two-ton eyesore.

  Lucas digs into the vehicle, and scavenges what parts are required like a vulture. There is no hesitation or confusion. His hands move as if they are autonomous, surgically extracting each piece with great care.

  I dare not impede the rhythm he has settled in, or ask any undo questions that would slow him down. He is cruising at a steady pace, and I want him to stay on point.

  “James!” he calls out from under the hood. “Can you grab me three-eighths socket?”

  I move from the left side of the porch toward the car. Lucas has a black case that rests on the right side of the front part of the vehicle.

  Mom had a set of tools in the back of the trunk that Dad had stowed away. Like everything else, Dad believed in being prepared no matter the situation or circumstance.

  Lucas’ hands are embedded deep in the guts of the engine block. He nods his head. “Right there. Grab the three-eighths socket for me, will ya?”

  My eyes skim over the shiny steel tools. It takes me a moment, but I finally find what he is after. I hand the socket to him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate it.” Lucas removes his greasy hand from the depths of the engine and grabs the socket from me.

  I spy over his shoulder for a moment, craning my neck to get a glimpse of what he is doing. It’s hard to see what is happening, so I give up. “Want me to take these parts on the ground over to the truck?”

  He grunts. A ratcheting noise emits from the engine. “Yeah. That would great. Just set them over on the ground in front of the truck. Once I get this last part out, then I’ll start working on getting them swapped out over there.”

  I bend down, and scoop up the dingy, greasy parts from the grass. With my hands full of mechanical parts, I take a single step and stop. “Not to be pushy or whatever, but when do you think you’ll have the truck ready to go?”

  He grunts once more, then sighs. I can’t tell if it’s because of my question, or if the part he’s after is being uncooperative.

  “Uh, not sure at the moment. Shouldn’t take me long once I get this stubborn thing freed.” He jerks and tugs. His arms flex with each pull. The car moves to and fro. “My goal is to have it hopefully wrapped up in the next three to four hours, barring I don’t run into any problems when installing them. After that, we should be good to go.”

  I mutter “yes” to myself. A brief moment of joy to an otherwise drab existence. “Excellent. I appreciate you doing all this. You could’ve just said screw this and left. I’m glad you didn’t, though.”

  “Well, from a rational stand point, it is foolish going toward Portland, but I get it. It’s family. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself leaving with you all alone out here. Wouldn’t set right with me.”

  “In either case, thanks.”

  Lucas continues diligently working. I leave him be, and head over to the truck. Duke is inside the cabin, barking his head off. He isn’t happy with me, at the moment, for having him confined to the cabin. He lets me know by barking and clawing at the door and window seals. I have the door closed to keep him inside. He wants to keep wandering off into the
woods. I don’t like that.

  The first few times he did, it didn’t bother me much. He’d handled his business, or whatever the heck he was doing, and came straight back. But his jaunts into the dense woods have grown longer. He’d leave, then be gone for an extended period of time, then finally come back. I guess since Mom and Cindy aren’t here, I’m feeling more worried, and I can’t shake it. I try not to think the worst, but it’s hard not to. As it stands right now, Duke is all I have left.

  Truth be known, I’m over embellishing a tad. He was gone for maybe forty minutes to an hour, tops, but still. I didn’t like it. He was quick to let me know he was displeased about being restricted to the cabin.

  He spoke to me through the slightly open window in the front portion of the cabin. He’d grumble. Then groan as he pawed at the dingy glass. Then he’d bark, and stare at me. After a few minutes of this routine, he’d calm down and leave the window. Now is different.

  He has skipped the grumble and groaning, and has headed straight to barking, and even growling. His nails claw at the window as he frantically tries to find a way through.

  His odd behavior has me worried. The only time he acts like that, especially here lately, is when...

  A sudden rush of panic floods my body. My heart races. And that’s when I hear it…

  Heavy footsteps tromping the ground.

  I train my ear and listen. It’s close, whatever it is that’s rushing headlong in our direction. The dead, crunchy leaves that carpet the earth grab my attention. It comes from my right. It’s close by.

  With my arms full of the car parts, I pivot on my heels and turn sharply in the direction of the disturbance. I only make it halfway before being tackled to the ground.

  The various parts I cradle against me go tumbling through the dead grass. I flip over onto my back, and try to scoot away. The chaser grabs my leg and pulls me toward him. His face is framed in a hurricane of rage. He growls and shrills with an unbridled contempt for the living. His eyes are full of madness as he comes for me.