Dead State Box Set [0-5]

by Shupert, Derek

  “You eat to survive. When I was in the service and out on missions, we didn’t have the luxury of a cooked meal. Those meals were the only food we had most days,” Dad says.

  “I guess. Just hope we don’t have to bust them open is all.”

  We round the boulder, and head down into the thick woods below. There are trees as far as the eye can see. The sound of pinecones crunch under our boots, breaking up the eerie silence of nature. Duke is off in the distance. His yellow tail points straight up in the air, and darts from side to side.

  “So, where are we going exactly?” I ask.

  Dad grips the strap of his rifle. He gives it a tug.

  “Just keep following the trail. We’ll set some traps along the way. Then we’ll head up a bit farther, and make camp.”

  “What traps are we setting?”

  “Figure we’ll do some 110s and 220s. We need to check the dog proof conibear boxes before setting the traps to make sure it’s all safe for Duke.”

  I remember the first time Dad showed me how to set one of the 110 traps. He did it first, going step by step. He kept telling me how dangerous they were. From there, he went on to show me the 220 and the 330 conibear traps.

  To me they looked like nothing more than a weird piece of steel, but after Dad fixed the trap and set it off with a stick, I quickly thought otherwise.

  The 110 did some damage, denting the stick while the 220 and 330 were much more severe. To be honest, I didn’t want anything to do with the traps for fear of getting my hand chopped off. Perhaps I was being dramatic, but better that than to not take the traps seriously.

  Dad hands me the setting tool, and points where he wants the traps to go. I still struggle a bit on the 220 and 330 traps, but I get the job done.

  Bark! Bark!

  “I wonder what Duke’s come across,” Dad says as his attention is pulled in the direction of Duke’s bark.

  “Who knows. Hopefully, he got a rabbit, has already skinned it, and dressed it out for us,” I reply with a chuckle.

  “Wishful thinking on that, my boy,” Dad counters.

  We quickly wind down the trail, and spot Duke off in a thicket of grass where only his tail is showing. He darts out onto the trail and spins around, barking and going back into the grass.

  “Must be something of importance or at least to him anyway,” I say.

  We veer off into the grass, and slow our pace. We cautiously approach where Duke is barking and moving about in a circular frantic pattern. His ears are perked up. The muscles in his body are tight.

  Dad draws his gun and shoulders it. He places his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in place. “Wait right here.”

  Duke jumps about, barking as he leaps into the air, then disappears again in the grass. I’ve rarely seen him this fired up unless something has him on edge, or he has found something out of the ordinary.

  “All right, boy, take it easy and show me what you got?” Dad says as he approaches.

  Duke’s barking subsides as Dad takes his free hand and moves the grass about, trying to locate the cause of Duke’s meltdown.

  “What the hell is that?” Dad mumbles under his breath. “James, call Duke over and put his leash on.”

  “Duke, come here boy,” I call out, not questioning his order.

  He gives a few more barks and growls before he breaks and trots over to my side. I remove the leash from my gear. He sits next to me, allowing me to attach the leash to his collar.

  “What is it?” My voice is thick with hesitation and worry as Dad’s demeanor suddenly becomes more focused.

  He’s quiet. His posture tenses as he bends down into the thick brown brush. His hands part the grass to either side. It must be something really strange or bad, as I hardly ever see Dad this focused.

  I tie Duke’s leash to a tree near us, and tell him to stay put. He’s still beside himself, moaning and pacing as far as the leash will allow him to roam.

  All sorts of things run through my mind, sending my imagination running on overdrive. I couldn’t imagine it would be any worse than a dead animal, as I’ve seen more of those than I’d like to admit. But with the way Dad is acting, I’m starting to think otherwise.

  “Dad,” I sputter with a tremulous voice as I stop behind him.

  “Here, James.” Dad hands me his rifle without even looking back at me. I take it from him and look on. His head is fixed straight ahead and down. I step to the side, and try to find what is keeping his attention.

  “Is that ...” My eyes widen. My mouth gapes open at the grizzly sight.

  “It is.” Dad replies flatly.

  Now I have killed many animals and dressed them, but this is totally different. Being fifteen, I’ve seen a lot of stuff in movies and video games, but nothing like this in real life. Not the way I wanted to get my morning started off.

  “Why would there be backpack and bloody clothes just lying in the woods?” I finally inquire.

  “Well, there are black bears, cougars, and wolves that roam these parts. Whoever this was could’ve walked up on one of these animals and not been able to get away. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though. It’s pretty dried on so whatever was around here, it’s safe to assume it has moved on.”

  My stomach churns. I feel Dad’s power breakfast acting as though it wants to be set free. Dreadful thoughts of how the owner met their demise flood my mind.

  He peers back at me. “You ok?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  I drop my hand from my mouth, and clear my throat as Dad pulls a bandana free from his gear. He grabs the backpack with great care. I cringe at the sight, wanting to divert my gaze, but curiosity keeps me looking.

  He brings it in closer, why I do not know. He glances around the outside, then proceeds to open it up.

  “What are you doing?” I balk, pointing to the bloody bag.

  “Trying to find out who it belongs to.” Dad rummages through the contents. “Maybe an ID or something to tell us who this was.”

  I cut my eyes down and watch while Dad goes through the stranger’s contents. “Any luck?”

  “No. Just some clothing and camping gear. Nothing with a name on it though.”

  “Do we need to report this?”

  Dad removes his hands from inside the pack and rest them on his legs. “Yeah. When we get back, I’ll give Frank a call.”

  Frank is the local sheriff and one of Dad’s oldest friends. They’ve been all over these woods more times than I can count. From the stories I’ve heard, they have seen some pretty messed up things. Not sure if they’ve ever seen anything close to this, though.

  Dad drops the backpack where he found it, and stands up. His head swivels around the small clearing we’re standing in. He turns back and grabs his gun from me, checking to make sure it’s ready to fire.

  “You still want to go on?” he asks.

  A bit shaken, I shrug. “Is it safe to go on?”

  “Yeah, it should be.” Dad offers a reassuring smile. “We can turn around and go home, James, if you want. It’s ok. I can imagine this may be a little unsettling to you, huh?”

  “Yes, but I am good to go on if you think it’s okay to do so.”

  “I do. We’ll be fine. Especially with mad dog over there.” Dad nods in Dukes direction.

  I think Dad could tell by the uneasiness in my voice that it did freak me out. One thing I can say about him is that he always treats me like a man. It is his way of trying to make me strong for anything and everything.

  Right now is one of those times I don’t want to cave in and make him think otherwise. I don’t think he would be disappointed if I wanted to leave. I just think I would be disappointed in myself.

  I give Dad a reassuring smile, and walk back to Duke. He groans and whines, pacing back and forth. I get down to one knee, and knead the top of his head. He licks my hand, then snuggles his head up against me.

  I glance over my shoulder in Dad’s direction. “Do you want to leave Duke’s leash on
?”

  “Nah. It should be fine. We’ll let him scout ahead some more. Just need to not let him get too far in front of us.”

  “Don’t go too far, boy, ok?” I remove Duke’s leash from his collar. He licks the side of my face. He darts off past Dad and the bloody gear. I un-tie the leash from the tree, and place it back in my pack. I sure hope the rest of the day goes better than the way it’s starting out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dad’s asked me to stay close, and not get too far ahead of him. To be honest, he didn’t have to make that request. I was planning to do that anyway.

  Venturing deeper into the hills, and the massive trees blocking out the sky, everything’s surprisingly silent. Almost as if nature has been put on mute.

  We finally catch wind of some birds chirping, and the occasional rustling off the beaten path. My head tilts upward toward the canopy of branches that hang overhead. My eyes shift from left to right in search of the cause of the disturbance. Turns out to be nothing more than squirrels. Thank goodness.

  We stray from our trail, and set up our conibear traps. I sure hope to have something caught soon. I’m getting hungry, and the thought of digging into those MREs is holding my appetite at bay. Well, that and the thought of how that hiker must have met his fate. From the amount of dried blood all over that pack and clothes, I would say it didn’t end well for him.

  “We’ll come back a little later, and check our traps. I know how much you’re looking forward to eating the MREs for supper, and possibly breakfast.” Dad chuckles.

  My hand palms my stomach as it growls from hunger. “I might have to find some wild berries or something just in case.”

  “If you do that, remember what I taught you. Don’t want to get sick or have the runs being all the way up here.” Dad offers in warning.

  Yeah. I learned that lesson the hard way. I never want that to happen again.

  So far, we haven’t come across any tracks that would indicate any large predators are in the area. Duke’s been relatively silent. He’s only rustling around in the foliage when he’s looking for a place to relieve himself.

  Our campsite is up ahead, and I’m more than ready to take a breather and sit down. Out of the many campsites we generally use, I especially like this one. The view is awesome, and the massive boulders that encompass the area tend to shield us from the chilly night air.

  Bark! Bark!

  “Sounds like someone is happy we arrived,” Dad mentions as Duke trots about the site.

  The trail winds downhill and feeds into an opening that leads into our campsite. Duke’s got his nose planted to the ground. He sniffs, and goes around the perimeter before changing direction on a whim.

  My body trudges along, the bulk of the pack on my back becoming heavier with every step I make. “I’m ready to drop this gear. It’s killing my back.”

  Duke barks and runs toward me. His tail wags, and his breathing is labored some. I grab both sides of his face and rub. His moist, sticky tongue narrowly catches my right hand.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s take a break. You’ve been going all out since we got out of the truck.”

  We race down the trail and into the camp. Duke leaves me in his dust as always. I unlatch the gear from my back, and drop it to the ground. I plop down on a log we moved in last time. Duke’s nowhere in sight, but the frequent bark and rustling lets me know that he’s close by.

  “You look a bit winded, James,” Dad says as he strolls in like that hike was nothing. “You’re not tired already, are you? We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  “Not at all. Gym this past week has been a killer. Coach Burns has been having us do bear crawls and running for almost the whole period. Not sure what his deal is, but I wish he would let up some.”

  Dad removes his gear from his back, and leans it against a tree that he likes to sleep under. “All that exercise is not a bad thing. I would imagine that many of those kids probably need it.”

  He is right about that. I do have some plump friends that could stand to shed a few pounds.

  “Before we head out, did you want to go ahead and set up camp?” Dad stands in front of me with his hands resting on his waist. He glances at the ground, looking left, then right.

  “Heck yeah. Not sure how motivated I’m going to be when we get back.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s get everything in order and when we’re done, we’ll leave.”

  I stand up, and we get to work. We pitch our tents, and get everything in line pretty quickly. We prepare our fire pit, and remove what we need for our trek. Our gear is stored inside our tents. Duke watches us, his ears standing straight up as his tail wags from side to side.

  “Make sure you got plenty of ammo on you,” Dad says as he points at my rifle.

  I grab some extra ammo, and slip them into a smaller pack that I can easily carry over my shoulder. I’ve got my knife latched in its sheath, and my Remington loaded and ready to go.

  “Where are we heading to now?”

  Dad points off to his right. “I figure we’ll head off this way, and see what we come across. It’s been a while since I’ve checked that trail. The last time I did, I was with Frank. I remember seeing some cranberries I think.”

  “Really?” My eyes light up as my tongue subtly slides across my lips. The thought of some fruit, despite it being cranberries, fills me with excitement. I’d prefer anything to those MREs.

  “Yeah, I think so. We’ll just need to keep an eye out for them. Don’t eat anything until I’ve checked it out first though, ok?” Dad gives me his normal stare, head tilted down some and to the left as he waits for my reply.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How are you doing on water?”

  “It’s about half way full,” I respond as I shake my bottle.

  “We’ll fill up when we come across a stream or something.”

  I double check to make sure I got everything, patting down my coat to my pants. I feel something in my right coat pocket. Feels like a candy bar or something. I remove it and look it over. It’s a Power bar with a note wrapped around it.

  James,

  I know your father likes to “rough it” when the two of you go out, but here’s a little something for you. I know how much you like the peanut butter chocolate ones. Have a good time, and we’ll see you in a few days.

  Love you,

  Mom

  P.S. Don’t let your dad see it. Wouldn’t want to make him jealous. :)

  My mom is great. She always knows what I need at the right time. And right now, I want nothing more than to break open this wrapper and devour every last morsel. But I think I’ll wait till later on. If we come up short on the traps, then this will definitely come in handy.

  Dad slings his rifle over his shoulder. “You ready, James?”

  I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  Dad cranes his neck, and looks ahead. “Where’s Duke?”

  “Duke!” I call out. “Come here, boy. We’re about to head out.”

  Bark! Bark! Duke explodes out of a set of bushes, and rushes toward me. I really wish I knew where that dog gets all of his energy from. I could really use some right now.

  He rushes to Dad, and sits next to him. He anxiously waits for his pat on the head, and rub under the chin. His sweet spot.

  Dad points at the trail in front of him. “James, you take point. Keep your head up and your eyes on everything around you.”

  I nod, and pat my leg with my hand. Duke bolts from Dad’s side and runs in front of me. His nose is glued to the ground, sniffing anything and everything.

  Shouldering my Remington, I follow behind Duke while Dad brings up the rear. We head off in the opposite direction and down a trail that we haven’t really explored in some time.

  The foliage around us is much thicker, making it hard to see anything clearly moving around on the inside. The trail has grass growing up through it, portions gone and reappearing at random spots.

  “So, why are we going this way?” My hands
glide over the tall grass, the blades brushing over my gloves.

  “Frank told me that he has had some luck with big game down this trail. Thought we’d give it a shot.”

  The grass covering the trail stands on end, not laid down like when it’s been trampled consistently. My boot discovers an impression in the dirt. I part the weeds and peer down. Are those hoof indentions? I can’t tell how fresh they are.

  “When’s the last time he came this way? Doesn’t look as though anyone’s been down here in a while?”

  “He didn’t say. Besides, that might be a good thing. More animals might be passing through since there doesn’t seem to be much human activity.”

  Not sure why, but I get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The whole ambience of this part of the trail is working on my nerves. The intermediate call of birds chirping, and the occasional snapping of branches stops me cold. I search for the culprit.

  “What was that?” I tremble. My fingers tighten around the Remington. My body tenses and my eyes widen.

  “What was what?” Dad responds, all calm and collected.

  “That noise. Sounded like footsteps or something over that way,” I reply, pointing to the thicket off to our right.

  Dad stops behind me and looks.

  “I don’t see anything, James. You sure you’re ok to go on,” Dad asks once more. “If you want to turn back and head home, we can.”

  “I’m fine. It’s just this creepy trail messing with me. That, and seeing that bloody back pack has me on edge.”

  “We’re fine, James. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Just relax, and keep your eyes out for any deer. Don’t want to scare them off. Unless you just really want some of those MREs.”

  “I don’t think it will be us scaring them off. This area is doing a good enough job of that on its own.”

  Dad tries to lighten the mood some as he nudges my shoulder playfully. It does little to curb my thoughts of what could be out there lurking in the dense forest, but I hold it together and “man up,” as Dad would say. I get moving, trying to ignore the random sounds that creep into my ears.