Dead State (Book 1): Fallout

by Shupert, Derek

  “Come on, Duke,” Dad says as he cracks open the door.

  Duke bolts out into the chilly morning air. He runs about and sniffs for a good place to relieve himself.

  I snatch my pack from the floor, and with my coffee in hand, I head outside. It doesn’t matter how many times we go out in the Oregon winter, the chill of the cold, crisp air always seems to find a way to seep between my hunting attire. Dad tells me regularly I’m overreacting, and that it isn’t that cold. I just roll my eyes and hold my tongue.

  “I got you the good stuff this morning. Your mom has been on my case about giving you that caffeinated coffee, but a young man needs his morning jolt before a long day.” Dad lifts his arm up and flexes.

  “Yeah, well, you know Mom has a nose like a blood hound, and the instincts to go with that. When she finds out, you’ll for sure get it.” I nudge him in the side, winking at him as we watch Duke search the blades of grass.

  “What? You think I’m scared of your mother?” Dad cuts his eyes over to me. A coy smile slithers across his face.

  No response is needed. We both know the answer to that question.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You want to drive?” Dad tosses his pack into the back of the Bronco. It hits with a dull thump.

  “Really?” I respond with a hint of jubilee in my voice.

  Dad nods. “Sure. We’re going back up through the trails, so I think it would be good practice for you to drive some while there’s still some night left.”

  I’m hesitant. I’ve never driven at night, just during the day, and that was around the house and on flat land. Never up rocky terrain that snakes up through the hills and into the forest that swallows you up.

  “The trails seem hard to navigate and all. Not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Dad dismisses the hesitation lingering in my voice with a wave of his hand. “That’s why we need to get some practice in.” I guess Dad could see the doubt on my face in the dark by his reassuring words. That, or it was my silence that gave it away. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, James. The Bronco here has been through a lot over the years, and it’s still going strong. I think it can handle a fifteen-year-old boy.”

  Dad pounds his fist against the side of the Bronco’s passenger side wheel well. I can narrowly see him smile, which he rarely does. “Come on, Duke. It’s time to go. James is driving today.”

  Bark!

  Duke rustles through the bushes on the other side of the truck. The noise makes me think of that video—something lurking in the shadows, ready to jump out and pummel anything in its path.

  Chasers.

  Oh, man, Dawson’s so going to get it on Monday. That’s for sure.

  “Here you go.” Dad hands me the keys. “Get in there and fire it up. Might need to idle for a few minutes in this cold weather.”

  I grab the keys from Dad, and head for the driver’s side. The cold air tickles my lungs. I take another swig of coffee, hoping that it’ll warm me up.

  Duke leaps out of the bushes, and rushes to my side. His tail is wagging, and that large pink tongue of his drapes over his left jaw. He gives a good shake as I rub the top of his head. He’s covered in stickers and leaves, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from being happy.

  “Come on, boy, hop in.”

  Duke turns about, takes a single jump inside the cab, and sits down next to Dad. I get in and close the door. The cab is just as cold as the outside, but at least now, there’s no breeze to contend with.

  I slide the key into the ignition, and place my foot over the gas pedal. I pause, then glance over at Dad. A simple nod from him tells me I’m on the right path.

  Pumping the gas twice, I start the truck. It grumbles like an old man, acting as though it doesn’t want to start. It idles rough. The grogginess of the engine is felt through the tremors sent through the frame of the vehicle. Finally, it slowly subsides to a gentle purr.

  Dad stares out the window, and up into the sky. He takes a sip of coffee as he rubs the back of Duke’s coat. Hopefully, we won’t run into any crazy people out there today,” he says with a smirk.

  “Very funny, old man.”

  “Thought you’d like that.”

  We both smile as I rub my hands together rapidly. The cold seems to be finding its way through the gloves I have on, which always makes these trips so dreadful. I try to keep my complaining to a minimum, as to not irritate Dad.

  “Go ahead and kick on the heat. Might be cold at first, but it’ll warm up quick,” Dad suggests.

  Thank gosh.

  I turn the heat on, and point two of the vents in my direction. The air is cold, but I can feel it getting warmer.

  My hands hover in front of the vents, anxious for the warmth. “So, what are we hunting today?”

  Dad sips his coffee leisurely before responding. “I thought today we’d set some traps and take it easy some. Maybe go over some survival stuff. I know you enjoy that sort of thing.”

  Take it easy?

  Easy is generally a four-letter word that Dad never spoke or even believed in. Or at least I thought he didn’t. Usually, whenever I complain or offer a simpler solution to a problem, Dad is quick to say that taking the easy way out makes one soft and complacent.

  Life’s not always easy, and you can’t always take the easiest path, James. Sometimes, you have to roll up your sleeves and get dirty to get ahead.

  It makes me wonder if everything is ok with Dad. He’s being semi easy going this morning. I hope that trend continues throughout our trek. I’m kind of liking it.

  I stare at him baffled, and wonder if the invasion of the body snatchers is happening right now, and my dad is the first to be taken over.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, James, where’s Captain hard ass,” he says.

  “Actually, yes. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  Dad pauses for a moment. His hand rests on the back of Duke’s neck. He takes another sip of coffee. That hard, rigid exterior that has always been my father is now something else. Something that I’ve rarely seen, and only wondered if he even had a softer side.

  Don’t get me wrong, my dad is one of the toughest and bravest around. Seeing the stuff he did when he was in the military, would mess with anyone’s head. He doesn’t talk about it, though. He just pauses, clears his throat, and quickly changes the subject.

  I guess for some it’s hard to let your guard down when you’ve been put into situations where there’s someone waiting to kill you on a daily basis. Kill or be killed. But to see Dad, dare I say it, emotional, is really confusing me right now.

  “You’re not dying, are you?” I finally ask with a worried tone.

  “Dying? Gosh no.” Dad snickers. “Listen, I know it seems as though I’m being rough on you at times, and dragging you out on the weekends to hunt and whatever else, but I see it as a building block to your character, son. A stepping stone to you becoming a man, and a contributing member to our society. The world can be a very unforgiving place. We have to be ready to face those moments. I only want the best for you, James. Always have, and always will.”

  If I didn’t know any better, I would think my dad is on the verge of crying. His eyes are getting all glassy. He runs the top of his hand across the rim of his nose. I won’t dare ask that question, though.

  For the first time since I can remember, I feel as though we are bonding on a different level. And to be honest, I like it.

  “I know, Dad.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The cab is getting warmer, finally. The cold air is being pushed back outside where it belongs. I place my hands over the vents again.

  Dad’s head is turned toward the window. His left-hand wipes what I can only imagine to be tears from his face. “All right, enough of this mushy crap. How about we get things moving here, and get our day started?” Dad clears his throat, and secretly dabs his eyes once more.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  After our little bonding session, I don’t
mind as much being out here with Dad and Duke. I hope we have more moments like this.

  I put my seat belt on, turn on the headlights, and place the Bronco into drive. Steady hands grip the warm wheel. My nerves lessen some as we get moving.

  “Just remember, take it slow and easy. We’re not in any kind of rush, so take your time.” Dad coaches with a calm and relaxed tone as he points straight ahead.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I make a U-turn, and follow the grass-covered tracks that lead behind the house. They fade off into the distance. I notice the gas gauge is right around a half a tank.

  I tap the fuel gauge. “Do we have enough fuel?”

  “We’ll be fine. I topped off the gas can strapped to the back just the other day. You just worry about keeping your eyes ahead and not killing us.” Dad winks.

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  Dad pats me on the shoulder, and offers a jubilant smile. Duke’s bad breath blasts me in the face every couple of seconds. Smells like rotted meat being vented over a heater. I plug my nose. My face contorts in disgust. Yuk!

  “Breathe in Dad’s face, dude. When we get back, I’m going to get you some doggie mints or something.”

  Bark! Bark! Groan!

  “I hope you’re excited, because you need it BAD.” I peer into the driver’s side mirror, and watch as our house fades into the distance. The field we drive through is just as rough and bumpy as the trail going up through the woods. The leftover ruts, from past endeavors, send the Bronco violently jostling about.

  It’s hard at times to keep the car steady, as I’m not able to gauge when to slow down, but Dad just looks out the window, enjoying the ride, I guess. He sips his cup of coffee and continues to stroke Duke’s coat. I sure hope he doesn’t spill any of it on him. Wouldn’t be a good way to get our day started.

  A little more daylight has lit up the pasture. The thick clouds break up the sun’s strident rays, leaving dark patches in our way. Thunder rolls in the distance, and I think I hear a crackle of lightning follow right behind.

  “We should be away from the storm. Supposed to be heading in the opposite direction from where we’ll be.” Dad leans toward the window, and tilts his head upward.

  “If it does rain, we’ll just tough it out. A little rain never hurt.” I try to refrain from any negative notion so as to not spoil our current mood.

  “Yes, we will,” Dad replies with a smirk.

  The woods ahead are dark and eerie. Parts are cast in dark pockets of blackness that make it hard to tell what’s lurking inside. Even before watching that stupid video Dawson sent me, this always gave me the creeps.

  “There’s a deep rut right before you hit the base of the trail heading into the woods. Slow down, and allow the Bronco to ease into it, but don’t let off the gas too much.”

  I can’t see the rut due to the tall grass growing out of the dirt where the tire tracks run. But I do as Dad says, and tap the brake. The Bronco slows down as the front tires drop into the rut.

  It feels as though we have fallen into the earth. The front portion of the truck slams into the ground, and quickly pops back up.

  The steering wheel jerks about violently, but I keep my hands locked on it, and finish the ride. I don’t remember it being so rough in the passenger side.

  The back end of the truck bottoms out with a hard thud. The Bronco climbs out of the ground, and onto the base of the hill. I stop, and shift the truck into park.

  Dad glances over at me with a raised brow.

  “Everything all right?”

  “You sure you don’t want to take over?” I’m trying to stay confident, but my nerves are getting the better of me.

  “I’m sure. Besides, you’re doing a great job, James. I doubt this messy old hill here can conquer you.”

  Dad is really acting strange and all. I’m not used to him being this laid back. Don’t get me wrong, it’s better than him being uptight and stern, but still weird.

  I take the Bronco out of park, and hit the gas, sending the truck lunging forward. It rolls up and over rocks and who knows what else. We’re thrown around wildly. The truck shifts from side to side as I try to stay on the fading trail.

  My head bobbles about loosely. “So, where are we going first?”

  “Head up to Broken Nose. Let me know when we get there.” Dad leans his head back against the ripped headrest. He lowers his camo hat over his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest, and settles in.

  “Really? You’re going to sleep now?”

  “Yep. Gonna have a long day, so figure I better get some shut-eye while I can. Don’t worry, if you need anything, Duke here knows these woods better than anyone.”

  Bark! Duke gives me a single lick on the side of my face. His matted tongue gets the full scope of my cheek. Lord, his breath is rancid.

  “All right, dude, I’m trying to drive here.” I wipe the slobber free from my face with my shoulder. “I guess since you’re my navigator, keep a watch out, all right?”

  Groan!

  And really, what I mean is if you spot anything that closely resembles that thing from the video, then bark like crazy.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Surprisingly enough, the trek up through the woods has not been as bad as I thought it was going to be. Don’t get me wrong, I feel as though I’ve been put through a blender. The truck doesn’t have much give when it rolls over rocks, logs, or anything else lying about.

  The sun breaks through the thick canopy of trees, and sheds some light in what would otherwise be a dark place. Looks like the clouds have moved out as well, like Dad said they would. Good thing too. I didn’t want to be wet all day.

  “What you think, Duke? You ready to get out and stretch those legs?” I rub his head as he whines and fidgets in the seat.

  Bark! Bark!

  “Thought so. Me too.”

  Up ahead is a rock formation that we have dubbed Broken Nose. It’s a massive round face with two deep impressions that look like eyes glancing off into the distant sky. In the middle of the rock, and where a person’s nose would be, a section has been busted off. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

  Dad is big on finding formations up here and giving them names as a way to help kind of navigate the hills. We’ve come up with a number of odd formations that to anyone else might look like nothing. Angry Tree Beard and the Hand of Earth are a few that we have named.

  “Well, we made it. It wasn’t too bad, huh?” Dad says as he runs his hands over his face.

  “How were you able to sleep through all that? Every time I looked over at you, your head was bobbling around all crazy like,” I inquire perplexed.

  “When you’re really tired, you can sleep anywhere. Or at least I can.”

  I park in front of Broken Nose. Duke’s tail wags faster. He groans and moans as he looks from side to side.

  Bark! Bark!

  “Someone’s ready to get out of this truck.”

  Dad opens his door, and gives Duke the customary nod. He leaps over Dad’s lap and hits the ground running. He sniffs the grass, and finds the perfect spot to relieve himself before surveying the area.

  “Here’s the keys.” I hand Dad the keys to the truck.

  He shakes his head and pushes my hand back. “You hold onto them. You’ll be driving us home as well.”

  I pocket the keys. “So, I’m your chauffeur today, huh?”

  He nods. “That you are.”

  I hold out my hand, fingers wiggling for the payment I won’t be receiving. “Tip?”

  “Don’t eat yellow snow or run from a bear. Oldies but goodies,” Dad replies with a chuckle as he exits the cab.

  “Somebody’s full of jokes this morning,” I say while stepping out of the truck.

  “I try to pick my moments when I can.”

  Duke runs up to my side in a mad dash. He nuzzles his nose into the palm of my hand. His body brushes up against me, and his tail wags ninety to nothing.

  “I know you’re
ready to get going, but just hold on,” I say.

  We walk to the back of the Bronco where Dad has the tailgate down. He looks over the gear he has thrown into the back.

  The man prepares for anything and everything. The kitchen sink may be somewhere under all that mess. Fishing polls, guns, camping gear, MRE’s and a slew of other items take up the space.

  “How long are we going to be up here?” I lean forward and take stock of all the items he brought.

  “Today, and we’ll head back sometime tomorrow. Are you ok with that? I don’t want to get that girlfriend of yours upset because you haven’t called, texted, emailed, or whatever it is you kids do nowadays.”

  “Well, there won’t be any worrying about that,” I respond bluntly, hoping that he drops the issue.

  Dad digs my pack out. He tosses it out onto the ground by my feet. “Why not? I thought your mother said that you had a girlfriend. Kim, Kimberly or something like that.”

  I scoff at the subject. “No, she isn’t my girlfriend.” The last thing I really want to do right now is talk about my non-existent love life with my father. I love him and all, but if I even wanted to dive into that mess, Mom would be more at the top of my list of go to people. Maybe even Duke. There’s never any judgment there.

  “So, what all do we need to bring with us?” I ask to change the subject.

  “We’ll take our gear, rifles, and some MRE’s just in case we don’t catch anything.” Dad pulls my rifle out and hands me it.

  It was my grandfather’s gun, a classic, and one that Dad used when he was a kid. A Remington 740 Woodsmaster with a scope that Dad added way back when. The stock has been restored a few times, but the deep embedded scratches and scuffs still remain.

  When my grandfather was still alive, he wanted us to keep the gun as original as possible to remind us of the past, and the times we all spent up here.

  Both me and Dad miss him terribly, and at times, we reminisce about the hunting trips we had with him. Those were times that I will always remember and cherish.