BOOK 3
BY
Copyright
Executioner
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.
For information contact :
Derek Shupert
www.derekshupert.com
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
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
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.
Executioner
Beta Readers – My deepest gratitude for your help !
Patti Holycross
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CHAPTER ONE
No. Please, God, no.
The inner voice inside my head screams out in pain, wading in anguish that is drowning me. My face throbs with a pulsating sensation from the sadness, and complete outrage that is nothing short of a massive storm swelling up from my core.
I cannot accept this reality. This is not happening right now. Cindy is not missing, and she is not dead. She did not turn into one of the ravenous creatures that consumes flesh. My mom did not become a... chaser.
I’m on my knees, with my dog, Duke, sitting by my side. We sit solemnly next to the dead body of the woman who raised me, the woman who loved me, the woman I had to dispatch when the virus took over her body. I whimper in utter agony.
I view the motionless corpse through what looks like the end of a bottle—all distorted with the imagery a garbled mess.
Cassie and Lucas, two brave souls who’ve helped me out while on my journey, speak to me. Their voices are nothing but distant sound bites that I don’t care to register. Their hands rest on my shoulders, and pull me backward. I jerk away, freeing my body of their grasp. They leave me be, and allow me to mourn my mother’s death.
“I’m going to check the perimeter really quick to make sure we don’t have any chasers inbound,” Lucas mutters to Cassie. He doesn’t actually mutter, but the detached feeling that I have right now makes it seem like that. “We can’t stay here for too long. We need to get back on the move.”
Boots echo off the grates, walking away from us. My attention stays focused on the body before me. Lucas leaves the medical ward section of the building.
The hinges squeak as his bulk presses down on the grates, and fades to nothing.
In the lull of the silence, I think about my life, my family, and my friends. Most of all, I wonder if, for some strange reason, I am being punished for some wrong that I committed. Have I pissed off some higher power to where it’s exacting its revenge by making me kill my family? By turning them into mindless meat sacks of skin and bone, hell bent on devouring the meaty strands of flesh from the living?
It’s bullshit. One hundred percent.
I can feel Cassie hovering behind me. She’s probably wrestling with what else to say that will soothe the devastating pain eating away at me.
“James.” Her palm gingerly rests on my shoulder. Her fingers grip a hair tighter. “I know how much pain you are in. I am so sorry that you are going through this.”
Sorry? Perfect word to describe me.
I have failed my family in every way possible. I don’t care if what is happening is beyond what any grown man could fight against. My father, God rest his soul, taught me to be strong, and fight for our family. The man takes care of it all. When the crap is hitting the fan, you knuckle down, and hit right back. Protect the ones you love. I know in the end, my parents would forgive me for not being able to protect everyone, knowing that I have done the best I could. Still, I can’t forgive myself.
My eyes divert from my mother. I turn and stand up. So much grief and pure hate fill my being that every muscle fiber in my body wants to destroy whatever gets in my way.
I pace in a circle for a moment before I suddenly stop. I don’t know how to process my feelings. My head shakes from side to side, my brain struggling to find a way to get me back from the edge of despair.
I point to the body with an unsteady finger. “Why? Can anybody tell me why this is happening?”
Tears stream down Cassie’s flushed cheeks as she struggles to keep the flood of emotions from bursting free.
She goes to speak, but nothing more than a sobbing whimper escapes her trembling lips.
“Please tell me WHY IN THE HELL this is HAPPENING!” My hands wrap around the edges of the steel bed frame next to me. I lift up with all of my might, flipping the blood-soaked sheets and the covered body hard to the floor. It hits with a dull thud.
Duke scrambles to his feet and moves back to where Cassie is. His tail folds under his genitals while his head lowers to the ground. His grungy yellow ears lay down as he looks up to me with sad eyes. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like that. I have failed him as well. The surge of anger that I’m already struggling with only increases at the realization.
My breathing escalates, eyes dart all around wildly. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I need to release the anger and heartache that is pent up inside of me. A short reprieve from the damage that is being done to my soul.
Chest heaving and my meager arms surging with a steady flow of hate, I continue on my rampage. I tip bed after bed over, and rip the antiseptic white curtains from the silver rings wrapped over the steel tubing running along each section.
“THEY
ARE ALL GOING TO DIE. MARK MY WORDS.” Spit spews from my mouth like I’m possessed. My lips are taut. My face radiates such heat that I feel like I could combust at any second. “I am going to kill each and every one of those creatures if it’s the last thing I do!”
Cassie’s look of compassion and understanding twists to unease. Her body tenses up. Her hands swipe away the tears from her red cheeks.
“James, please. You’re out of control,” she sternly says. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but you have to settle down, and stop creating so much racket, or you’re going to get us all killed.”
My mind totally bypasses her words. Through the blinding fury, I throw my arms up in the air. “Am I being too loud?” I bark. “I am sorry that I am not handling this as well as you did, Cassie. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not as strong as you. Perhaps, all of the people that I have lost on this messed up trek into hell has made me hit my tipping point!”
Cassie folds her arms across her chest. She’s definitely pissed now. Her eyes narrow at me as her boot taps the ground rapidly. Duke remains crouched by her side as a chuckle escapes her taut lips. “You know, being a complete asshole doesn’t help a damn thing here. I am sorry for all that has happened to you, but, like I said before, you’re not the only one who has lost loved ones to these creatures.”
I point to my mom. The blood from the gaping gash in her skull coats the steel grates, dripping through the openings to the blackness beyond.
“Did you have to kill your own parents? No, Mack did that. Speaking of Mack, did you have to strike him down because he was infected? No, he died because of ME. Because I failed to make sure that door was secure in that auto parts store. He paid with his life because of my careless actions.”
Lucas slings open the door to the medical ward with his shotgun poised and at the ready. He stops dead in his tracks. His head swivels from left to right. “What the hell was that clatter going on in here?” His concerned expression morphs to that of confusion. He looks to the tossed over beds, then to me. “Did you do this?”
Cassie turns sharply around on her heels. She gives me one last evil stare before heading toward the door. She pauses next to Lucas, and peers over her shoulder at me.
“I need some air. I’ll be outside.” She continues on through the swinging door. Duke stays by her side and doesn’t offer me another look.
“Duke, stay,” I command him sternly. He ignores my demand for obedience. “Fine. You’re probably better off anyway.”
Lucas’s eyes widen. He lowers the shotgun, and shakes his head. I couldn’t care less what he’s thinking.
“You’re losing it, James,” he firmly, but calmly states. “I can only imagine what you are going through, but if you don’t settle down and get control, you’re going to draw any chasers nearby to us.”
“Let them come,” I bark in response. “I’ll kill each and every last one of them.”
Lucas motions with his hands for me to keep my voice down. His fingers press firmly to his lips. “James, lower your voice, and get yourself under control, now.”
I look at him through glassy, teary eyes as I hold back the sadness and guilt. I allow it to spawn into something else entirely—a monster consumed by rage that must be fed. “Or what, Lucas? You going to make me shut up?”
Lucas clenches his teeth and shakes his head. His hands ball into a fist for a moment before he slowly releases a deep sigh. “I will do what is needed to calm you down if need be, but I don’t want to do that. So please, just take a deep breath, and bring it down a bit.”
My eyes cut down to my mom, then to the left at the bloody machete lying next to her. I bend down, and grab the handle. I lock eyes with Lucas. His hand repositions over the stock end of the shotgun. He doesn’t bring it up, but he’s poised to do so if need be.
I need some space without anyone telling me how I should be acting. For their sake and mine.
“Forget this. I’m out.”
CHAPTER TWO
I walk toward Lucas. The hand wielding the shotgun flinches. He doesn’t bring it up to bear, but by the uneasiness of his stance, he’s contemplating it.
The sight of him clutching the shotgun does little to sway my emotions and the spiraling madness that I’m being engulfed by. I brush past him, not offering a single look as I make my way out of the medical ward.
“I need some air.” The heel of my palm slams into the dense rubber door, thrusting it forward. It slams into the wall with a deep thud. I continue walking with a scowl of contempt for everyone and everything.
I hear no rapid movement of feet racing up to me from behind. Cassie and Duke are nowhere in sight. It’s just me and whatever poor, infected bastards dare cross my path.
My boot strikes the main doors to the long, portable structure the military had erected here, forcefully knocking them out of my way. They rattle and make a loud crescendo of noise that I hope draws in any nearby chasers. I entered this building a boy with a shred of hope that teetered by a wafer-thin string. I have now emerged a person poisoned with hate for the chasers.
“Where are you, you bastards,” I scream out.
I step out from the building and into the darkness of the defiled landscape—a supposedly safe haven that the military had under control. Guess they underestimated the infected’ resolve in spreading their pestilence.
My gaze skims over the defunct area, scouring for any chasers that I can release the full brunt of my fervor upon. The blurred edges of the buildings around me meld with darkness. There are large lumps scattered on the lawn. It’s hard to tell what they are. Possibly an assortment of unlucky dead souls that weren’t able to get to safety.
“Come on! I know there are some of you close by! Here I am! Come finish me off! You have taken everything from me! Now come and exact your pound of flesh!”
I catch movement to my right. The silhouette of a figure swiftly manifests out from the side of one of the buildings. It grunts and moans. Its feet hammer the grassy field as it rushes toward me.
My hand tightens over the handle of the machete, and I sprint toward the creature. Caution is cast aside, granting the monster inside me leave to take control.
I grit my teeth, and allow the cataclysm of distress to boil to an explosive outburst. The machete demands the chaser’s flesh and blood, and I aim to feed it.
As I race toward our collision course, I can hear its breathing escalate. Our weight trounces the matted grass as the blades crunch under our feet.
The chaser is burned, and his chest splattered with a dark mass that coats the flimsy white shirt that is ripped and torn. I can only imagine its blood, either from him or the people that its dismembered.
A brief glimpse of the moon’s light gleams off the creature’s head, revealing its missing right eye. A portion of its skin has been removed. The ends are jagged and gnawed. I hope it hurt. A futile thought, but one I wish was true.
I pull the machete back and take a swing at the chaser. The blade runs horizontal across its chest. The blow knocks it off balance some. It stumbles to the side before regaining its footing.
“Come on!” I taunt, daring the chaser to come at me once more. “Here I am!”
A deep growl rises from its lips. The tremor of anger the creature exhibits does little to sway my course of action. Any such fear that resides in me is being trumped by the hate that has currently swallowed my blackened soul.
The chaser comes for me again with its arms outstretched. I plant my feet and swing the machete as hard as I can. The blunt blade of the bulky weapon burrows into the right side of the creature’s neck. It effortlessly slices through the flesh and bone, and emerges on the other side.
Headless, the chaser continues its forward momentum. It stumbles as its skull bounces off the ground. I try to steer clear of the headless corpse, but it plummets right into me.
The blunt contact knocks me off balance and flat on my back. My machete flies out of my hand. The chaser’s body lands askew across my waist and a p
ortion of my legs. I’m trapped under the dead weight of the creature.
More movement catches my attention. I can hear the rapid thump of feet heading my way, but can’t identify the source.
Damn it.
My hands franticly sweep over the grass in search of the only salvation that I now have—my machete. Where is it?
I finally catch sight of the chaser that is inbound in front of me. It looks to have come from the street and through the opening with the fence that has the school enclosed.
My fingers wrap around the creature’s arm as I struggle to work its bulk free of my body. It moves ever so slightly, but not enough for me to slip away.
More footsteps loom from behind me now.
“Jesus, James,” Lucas growls. He grabs the corpse and lifts it off me. He pants hard. His stocky stature hangs over me with his face barely visible from the darkness, concealing the disappointment I can only imagine is plastered on his face.
Lucas diverts his attention from me to the chaser who is rapidly closing the distance to us. Lucas brings the shotgun to bear.
A deafening boom crackles in the air. The barrel erupts in a brief flash of hellfire. The swarm of pellets strikes the inbound chaser’s skull. Its head turns to a mushy pulp as it stumbles lifeless to the earth.
“Great.” Lucas tosses up his arms. He’s agitated. “Not what we needed right now, James. Anymore of those things that are close by more than likely heard that.”
He turns toward me and reaches out his hand. I grasp his palm as he pulls me up off the ground. I brush the dirt free from my clothing. With my head tilted toward the ground, I search for my machete.
“I had it under control. I didn’t need your help,” I flatly hiss. I look a bit more and finally find the machete a few feet to my right within the blades of grass.
“The hell you did,” Lucas barks back. “If you haven’t figured this out yet, James, we are not your enemy here. We are on your side. Right now, we are all that we have, and we need to stick together, and be smart if we have any hopes of surviving whatever the hell is going on.”
Dead State (Book 3): Executioner Page 1