Dead State Box Set [0-5]

by Shupert, Derek

Branches snap. I seize up, paralyzed with fear. Duke rests his head in my lap. It’s close. The sound of the chaser’s heavy breathing becomes more defined with every second that ticks by.

  I ready the Remington just in case, but hope I don’t have to use it. Not sure what else we’re going to encounter. I need to use what ammo I have sparingly.

  It stops cold right in front of where we’re hiding. I’m not sure if it has picked up our scent or what, but it just stands there.

  I bring the Remington up. The barrel trains in the general direction of where I think its head might be. Right now, all I can see is the bottoms of its torn jeans and muddy boots.

  The chaser turns about in circles, trying to find where I went. Duke growls. I put my left arm over his side and pat him. I can feel the vibration coursing through his body. He wants to attack.

  It pauses. It doesn’t make a single noise. With the Remington ready to go, I wait to see what it does next. The chaser takes a step forward. The cracking of branches to its left captures its attention. The chaser grunts and growls. It bolts in the direction we came from.

  For a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief. Duke calms down as well. He licks my hand. His head tilts back, and he licks my face.

  “Dude, your breath smells rancid.” Not that he cares or anything.

  We hang in the thicket for a little while longer. I want to make sure there’s no more chasers roaming about before emerging and getting back on the move.

  Forcing myself up from my crouched position, I push along the trail till we reach our destination. It’s not much, but it’s off the ground, and should give us some cover and security till morning.

  I’m not sure if I’m really looking forward to another round of sleep, but I know I need it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  So much for getting any sleep tonight. I toss and turn and can’t relax any. I use my gear as my pillow. The ground is rough, but what kills it the most is my mind replaying the last twenty-four hours over and over again. I can hear Mom whispering in my ear to think happy thoughts. Not too much of that right now. The bad and evil I’ve experienced have trumped that easily.

  Duke on the other hand slept relatively well. That is after he decided we were safe and could let his guard down. He spent most of the time snuggled next to my feet. Every time there was a noise, though, or something that didn’t sound right to him, he woke up and investigated it. I tried to tell him it was ok, but I guess he needed to check it out for himself.

  The fire we had going has been extinguished. A small thin line of smoke trails up into the morning air. It’s pretty cold now that there’s no heat. I wrap my coat around me even tighter to keep the chilly air at bay.

  I give a good stretch and yawn. My eyes water, and parts of my body ache that I didn’t know could. I sit up. The sun arches in the sky. I would much rather deal with anything in the daytime than at night.

  Duke groans and gets to his feet. He gives his yellow coat a good shake.

  “Did you get a good night sleep at least?”

  He licks my face and sits down. His right leg springs up, and goes to work on the side of his head. He scratches intently, trying to relieve whatever’s bothering him.

  “Well, I hope you did because we’re going to have a long day today.”

  Duke turns about, and heads for the entrance of our temporary shelter—a make-shift cave comprised of multiple boulders that has us elevated off the ground. He pauses at the edge and looks down. His head pivots from side to side. Since he’s not barking, I guess the coast is clear. He looks back over his shoulder and just stares at me.

  “Don’t go too far, boy, and hurry back.”

  That tongue of his instantly rolls out of his mouth as he leaps from the edge to the ground below. He rustles about in the bushes. I grab my gear and open it up.

  Man, I am starving. I hope I’ve got something left in here to eat on.

  Digging through everything, I finally come across another power bar at the bottom. It feels squished, but I don’t care. It’s better than nothing right now.

  I pull it free from my pack and tear it open. I waste little time in devouring the chocolaty mess. My tongue licks clean the leftovers from the wrapper’s silver insides. My canteen is roughly half filled as I take a big swig. It wasn’t the best breakfast that I’ve ever had, but considering the situation, it is better than nothing.

  Now, what to do next. I know that I want to get to Mom and Cindy as fast as I can, but I’m not sure what the best approach to this might be. If I try to hike it through the woods, that will take forever and with the chasers roaming around, we’ll be more vulnerable.

  On the flip side, finding some wheels and driving it will be faster, but could be much more dangerous. The risk of encountering more chasers will go up drastically when venturing into more populated areas. Or so I think.

  Plus, my grand theft auto skills are a little rusty since Mom and Dad grounded me from my game system for my grades. Oh, and the fact that I have never really driven on the highways before. Can’t forget that.

  Duke pops back into the cave, and trots back over to me. As always, he’s covered in those thick stickers that cling to his coat. He sits down in front of me, panting hard. I rub his side and start to pick off the stickers as I mull over what I want to do next.

  Dawson?

  Dawson’s place isn’t too terribly far away from here. We could easily make it over there in a few hours or so. Well, barring any of the chasers getting in our way.

  I remove my phone from my pocket to check if I have a signal by chance. One bar is showing, and my battery is roughly sixty percent charged. Might as well give it a shot.

  I pull up Dawson’s number and call him. The signal is a bit choppy. The ringing fades in and out. A crackling noise looms from the microphone. After about four rings, it dumps into his voicemail.

  “Hey, Dawson, it’s James. Duke and I are coming over. When you get this message, hit me up. Later.”

  I hang up and go to the text that Dawson sent me. I reply back to that as well, saying the same thing.

  “I couldn’t get a hold of Dawson, but he should be home. I highly doubt that he would’ve left his house or anything. Are you up to heading over there?”

  Duke gives a single bark and wags his tail. It’s not that he especially likes Dawson, but there’s a female Husky that hangs around over that way.

  “Let me get situated, and we’ll head out.” I grab my gear and thumb through it quickly. I remove a box of ammo, and sit it next to the Remington. Everything else crammed inside is of little use right now. I do need to find a stream, so I can fill my canteen up, though.

  I re-load the Remington and place the leftover ammo back in my pack. I’m still tired and hungry, but don’t have time to really dwell on my growling stomach. I would imagine Duke feels the same way.

  Getting to my feet, I slip my gear on and move over to the edge of the cave we’re in. Peering out and down, I survey the area. I try to see if I can spot any movement from those things.

  All seems to be still. The morning wind whips the trees and bushes about. Birds chirp and the squirrels in the trees nearby scurry up and down the thick tree trunks.

  “All right, boy, you ready to get moving?”

  Duke gets to his feet, and trots over to me. Even if he wasn’t ready and wanted to rest a little while longer, he wouldn’t let me venture out there by myself. He gives me a single groan and yawns.

  “I know, I feel the same way. Maybe when we get to Dawson’s house, we can rest a little easier.” I rub Duke’s head and shoulder the Remington. I carefully work my way out of the cave, trying to be as quiet as possible. Even though I don’t see anything doesn’t mean that the chasers are not within earshot of us.

  Reaching the ground, I slip the Remington off and whistle for Duke. With the thick brush and foliage around us, it’s hard to make anything out. I think we’re safe for now, though.

  Duke effortlessly makes his way down the stacked rock for
mation and starts sniffing. He moves off to the right through the thicket of trees and bushes that lead back to the trail.

  I keep close behind him, so he doesn’t get too far ahead. He pauses every so often. His ears stand on end. Not sure what he’s picking up, but it must not be anything to concern myself with. After walking for about an hour or so, we come across a stream. Duke trots over and gets his fill of water. Fortunately, the day has started off not as cold as it normally is, making this hike through the woods a bit more bearable.

  Dropping to my knees next to Duke, I grab my canteen and hold it in the water. I pat his head as his tongue laps up the cool spring liquid.

  “Thirsty, huh?” I ask as I take a drink myself. “Man, that is cold.”

  I take a few more hefty swigs before topping the canteen off. I apply the cap and place it back on my gear.

  “Well, we shouldn’t have too much further to go. If we keep our pace like this, we should be at Dawson’s place in the next hour or so.”

  I wish I had something to give Duke to eat. I know he has to be hungry. He ate at the house while I wolfed my sandwich down, but with as much walking and running as we’ve been doing, I know he’s been burning a lot of that off.

  “When we get to Dawson’s, hopefully, he’ll have something to eat for you. If not, we’ll figure something out.”

  Duke barks and sits down. His right foot springs up and he starts scratching his right side. That dog is crazy. He probably needs a bath.

  Snap!

  What was that?

  It sounded like a branch breaking from the direction we just came. Not sure how far away it was, but it was close enough for me to hear it clearly. I grab the Remington and take aim. Duke stops his itching and whirls about.

  “What do you think, boy?”

  Duke lowers his head, and growls under his breath. He bares his teeth, a clear signal we need to get back on the move.

  “Come on, Duke. Let’s get going.” I grab him by the collar and gently pull him with me. He resists at first, but finally obeys. We change our pace from walking to a dead sprint down the trail. It could’ve just been an animal or something moving through, but I didn’t want to take the chance.

  Feeling the burn in my legs and sides already, we finally make the clearing which opens up into Dawson’s backyard. My hands fall to my knees as I gasp for air. Duke pants hard as well. His tongue drapes out of his mouth and nearly lies on the ground.

  “We’re almost there, boy.” I take a quick once over of Dawson’s house, making sure it looks safe for us to approach. I remove my phone and try to call him again. Three rings and I’m dumped back into his voicemail.

  “Dude, I’m in the woods behind your...” The phone loses its signal and cuts off.

  I slide the device in my pant pocket. We make a beeline for the back of Dawson’s house. Duke’s by my side, stride for stride. The gear on my back bounces all over the place, making me unstable once more. I keep peering to the right, then left. I wait for something to emerge from the bushes.

  Approaching Dawson’s porch, we step up on the wooden deck and make for the door. I try to be quiet as I don’t want to freak him or his parents out by making a lot of noise. Dawson’s dad is a hunter as well and is already paranoid enough. The last thing I need to have is someone shooting at us because we startled them.

  The boards squeak from my bulk, regardless of how light of a step I make. I get my back against the wall and give a sigh of relief. Finally made it.

  I peer out to the tree line in Dawson’s backyard and spot something emerging from the woods. I can’t tell if it’s a chaser or just a shadow being cast by the trees, but I do not want to find out.

  Knock! Knock!

  Come on, dude. Answer!

  Duke and I wait for a few moments. My anxious eyes sneak back over my shoulder to the tree line. The figure stands motionless in the morning light. I rub my eyes, figuring that it could be me just imagining the whole thing.

  Slow and subtle, it takes its time moving toward me. I knock again, a little louder as I scramble for my phone. It’s down to fifty-five percent. I need to charge it when we get inside.

  I pull up Dawson’s text from earlier, and start thumbing the keyboard.

  “Dude, seriously! Answer the damn door!”

  The chaser breaks into a dead sprint, heading our way. Duke growls and barks. There’s no mistaking now that it isn’t a figment of my battered imagination.

  I fumble for the Remington, and remove the worn strap that dangles over my shoulder. The chaser seems to gain ground by leaps and bounds.

  I shoulder the rifle. My cheek rests against the stock. I take aim and line up the scope on its head. A hand grabs me by my shoulder and yanks me backward. I trip over the door jam and fall hard to the floor. The gun dislodges from my hands. Duke rushes in and the door slams shut.

  “What the hell-”

  “Shhhh,” Dawson replies as he heads over to the blinds. He stands there for a moment, watching what I can only guess is the chaser that’s tracking us.

  “Dude, why didn’t you answer my text or calls?” I bark with a hoarse growl.

  “Sorry, man, but as you can see things have gotten a bit crazy around here.” Dawson grabs my Remington and helps me off the floor. He heads to the kitchen and leans the rifle against the wall. His house is so dark that my eyes take a minute to adjust.

  Duke trails Dawson. He’s probably hoping to snag something to eat.

  “Hey, boy, you hungry?” Dawson asks.

  Duke groans and moans as I slip my gear off. I sit it against the wall next to my gun. I look out through the blinds and find that the chaser has stopped in the middle of Dawson’s yard.

  “It just stopped, dude. I wonder why?” I say befuddled by its actions.

  “No clue, but I figured out that if I keep the blinds closed and the house dark then they don’t really bother with checking it out. I try not to draw attention to myself.”

  Dawson cracks open the fridge and bear hugs a ton of food. He turns and slams the food down onto the island countertop.

  Duke sits perfectly still. He licks his lips. His ears stand on end. His yellow tail wags from side to side. His groans become deeper, and he struggles to contain his excitement.

  “Here you go, boy. I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish this myself.”

  Duke grabs a massive piece of steak from Dawson’s hand. He takes it over to the corner of the kitchen and sits down.

  “Where’s your parents?” I move away from the blinds and go over to the island. My eyes enlarge at the sight of the food. My stomach grumbles again, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “I don’t know. They were heading into Portland the other day when all this started happening. I’ve tried to call them a half dozen times, but all I get is their voicemail.” Dawson rummages through the food, and scratches his head.

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” I reassure. “After all, wasn’t all this mess stemming from Gresham?” I can’t help but think of Mom and Cindy. Man, I hope they’re ok.

  “Yeah, I imagine they are,” Dawson responds half-heartily. “You hungry?”

  “Yeah, man. I’m starving. All I’ve really had in the last twelve hours is a power bar. My stomach isn’t too happy with me right now.”

  “What would you like? Mom made me a lot of food to hold me over till they got back.” Dawson presents the array of food as if it’s a prize I could end up winning.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m good with whatever.”

  Dawson grabs a container of his mom’s infamous cheesy meat casserole. He opens the door and slides the food into the microwave. I can hear Duke over in the corner devouring that steak. I bet he’s savoring every little morsel.

  Dawson leans against the stand the microwave rests on.

  “So, why are you here and not with your parents and sister?”

  “My mom and Cindy went to our cabin after all this went down. Me and my dad were out on a hunting trip when they le
ft.” The smell from the food cooking grabs my attention. My nose probes the air.

  Dawson looks around. He acts as though he might have missed him come in. “Where is your dad?”

  My eyes glaze over almost instantly. The heartache and pain that I had managed to temporally stuff away comes back as if everything had just happened. I divert my gaze and rub my eyes, struggling to hold the tears back.

  Dawson’s face becomes long and filled with sadness. I don’t go into any detail and keep my response short and to the point for fear of erupting into a cataclysmic meltdown.

  “He... he didn’t make it.” I sniffle as I run my sleeve under my nose.

  Dawson places his hand gingerly on my shoulder. “Dude, I’m so sorry.”

  I muster a slight nod as my palms try to dab away the tears. “Yeah, me too.”

  Dawson retrieves a few plates from the cabinet near him as I regain my composure.

  “What are you going to do, then? Last I heard, chasers are everywhere, and they’re multiplying like freaking rabbits. It’s been all over the news for the past day or so,” he says.

  “I don’t have many options right now. I’m going to do whatever I have to in order to get to Mom and Cindy.”

  The microwave dings. The smell venting from its sides makes my mouth water. Dawson’s mom, much like mine, cooks food that always tastes great. Whenever I would come over, she was always asking if I wanted a plate. Like she had to ask.

  “Dude, if I remember correctly, that cabin is a long way away from here. How are you planning on getting out there with no wheels? Sounds like a suicide trip to me, bro.” Dawson opens the microwave door and reaches inside. He grabs the plastic container by the sides and pulls the food out. Steam vents out from under the lid that is positioned slightly askew. He hurriedly sets it down on the countertop.

  “Maybe, but they’re the only family I have left, and I need to get to them,” I retort.

  Dawson removes the lid. He jams a large silver spoon into the dish. He shovels out a heaping mound of the casserole on one of the plates and slides it my way.

  My stomach growls, begging me to fill it full again. “What about you? What’s your plan?”