Dead State (Book 3): Executioner

by Shupert, Derek

  “Honestly, I’m scared. Not so much of the chasers, or the people that have my sister, but scared of what I might find,” he sincerely replies. “Not going out and searching for them maintains the hopeful illusion that they’re still alive. If I do find them, and they are dead or turned into those abominations, I’m not sure I can handle that. I guess that’s why I’ve stayed put.”

  Man. I wasn’t expecting all of that from a guy his age. Not that this cataclysmic event doesn’t have everyone left alive, and uninfected, scared to the marrow. We’re all battling demons that won’t leave us be. It’s a tiresome fight, and one that completely drains a person. Almost like a parasite that sucks every last bit of strength and resolve one might have.

  “Listen, you do what you feel you need to do. Come or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me as long as you can just tell me where to go,” I respond point blank. “I have no doubts that your mother is more than capable of handling any threat that could arise. Besides, Lucas and my dog are up there as well. They will protect them if it comes to that.”

  Shane smirks, and runs his fingers over the stubble sprouting around his mouth. “Man. You sure don’t act like any kid I’ve ever met before. Not even Jenny’s friends, who are about the same age, acted the way you do.”

  “Everything has changed. The world isn’t what it was. I’ve had to grow up really fast over these past few months. Survive or die. That’s the name of the game now. I’ve got friends and family who are counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

  Shane nods. “They’re lucky to have you then, James.”

  I return the gesture in kind. Not that I needed it, but it does feel kind of nice to have Shane tagging along. Not only does he know where we’re going, but an extra set of eyes keen to the chasers and those people will certainly come in handy.

  “Now that we have that settled, care to lead the way?” I step to the side and lean back against the wood siding of the building, allowing Shane to slip past me. I trail him out onto the street.

  The warmth of the sun slices through the morning clouds overhead and splashes us in the face. It’s still a bit cold and all, but having the strident rays is a nice change of pace. I prefer the daylight over the darkness anyway. It may not be as safe, but the nighttime still gives me the creeps.

  Shane glances along the street that Lucas and I barreled down not too long ago, then straight ahead at a passage that leads behind some buildings.

  “How far away is the place where they’re keeping them?” I inquire.

  He points diagonally to the north. “On the other side of town. Donny said it was some old, abandoned factory or something like that.”

  “Are there many chasers around these parts? Some of the towns we have been through have been hit or miss.”

  Shane shrugs. “Not entirely sure. We were just passing through when those a-holes got the jump on us. Aside from the small horde of chasers who came upon us when they took Jenny, we haven’t seen too many more since then.”

  For me, I like to think everywhere we go is going to be infested with the creatures. I’d rather be ready for them than to have my guard down, and think that we are in the clear when we’re not.

  I point toward the back end of the buildings. “Probably should stick close to the structures. Stay out of sight in case they come back trolling for us.”

  “Agreed.” Shane takes point and heads across the street with his shotgun clutched tightly in his hands. I follow close behind with the machete ready to hack and cleave if need be. The rifle is still slung across my body. I meant to leave it with Lucas as I don’t plan on using it. Oh well. I guess I’ll hold onto it just in case we get into a bind, and I find some use for it. The last thing we need to do is attract any unwanted attention. Speaking of which…

  “Hey, do you have any other weapons on you besides that shotgun?” I pose.

  Our thick-soled boots crunch over the loose gravel. We trudge along the makeshift road with the old, haggard buildings shielding us from prying eyes.

  “Only other thing I’ve got is this knife on my hip. That’s about it. Why?” Shane says.

  I scan each structure and check for any chasers who may be lurking within the dark spaces. Each is void of any gaunt bodies waiting to charge out and attack.

  “We really want to minimize any noise that might draw attention to us,” I retort. “Discharging that shotgun will be like ringing the dinner bell. I would only use it as a last resort, and stick with your knife. Silent and efficient. Stab them in the head, and the rest is gravy.”

  “Good call. Most times, I’m more of a sledgehammer guy than anything else.” Shane turns to face me while still walking backwards. He trains the shotgun off to this left and pretends to fire. He makes the noise and everything. “Just one of the many ways I like to relieve stress. Removing their freaking heads with blunt force. Did you ever see Gallagher do any standup?”

  Shane lowers the shotgun. He slips the attached strap over his shoulder, and removes the hefty hunting knife from the sheath fixed to his waist.

  “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t recall ever watching it.” I think Dad used to watch some of his stuff when I was younger. Not sure, though.

  Shane’s mouth gapes open, and his eyes bulge from his skull. “I know you’re young and all, James, but the dude was freaking great. You’ve definitely missed out. He always did this bit with bringing out a variety of food and these large watermelons. He would get his makeshift hammer and smash them to bits with it. Chunks of food would fly out in every direction. Kind of makes me wish I had that beast of a tool here with me now. It would definitely make short work of any chasers.”

  He presses his hands together and acts out the creature’s head being smashed and blown out in every direction. Not exactly what I would call fun or exciting, but to each their own, I guess.

  I offer a half-smile just to shut Shane up. He spins back around with the knife in his hand. This guy is nothing short of a basket case. He’s all over the place mentally, acting as though killing the chasers is some sort of sport or comedy special. Listening to him makes it that much harder to really concentrate on our environment. I’m more concerned with navigating this town and getting Cassie and the others away from those people as fast and quietly as possible. Although, I’m not opposed to pointless banter, now is not the time I want to do that.

  Wow, listening to those words rattle loosely about inside my skull makes me sound like Dad. It’s not a bad thing by any means. The more I take from the words of wisdom that he bestowed upon me over the years, the better off I’ve been. I’m still alive and breathing. Right now, that’s job one.

  We continue on through the town. Shane has refrained from any more chatter that isn’t dire to what our current situation requires. I’m thankful for that. I’m not sure I could stand another word before I lose my mind. I think he picked up on my lack of enthusiasm, though. I’m not looking to chum it up with anyone right now. I am focused on what needs to happen. That is all.

  Taking in the abandoned town brings a sense to me that makes me feel as though we are on another planet. It’s really strange to not see any sort of daily life happening. People shopping, or kids going to school. The humming of cars and trucks bustling up and down the streets and highways. The smell of exhaust. I never put too much thought into those small, trivial things. Not until their absence was really felt, and dare I say it, missed. Perhaps one day everything will get back to normal, whatever that may be.

  “Whoa, hold up for a minute.” Shane’s hand springs up into the air. He slows his pace and stops. He takes a few steps to his left, and hugs the reddish brick wall of the building we’re traveling behind.

  I follow suit. “What’s wrong?”

  He places his finger firmly to his lips to silence me. I find that ironic, given his random babbling from earlier. He points toward the street we’re coming up on. “Thought I heard something.”

  I listen closely. It’s faint, and barely audible, which makes m
e think of one thing. Chasers.

  “There may be some chasers close by. We need to be careful.”

  Shane flips the knife around with the tip pointing toward me and the serrated blade facing the ground. He brings it up into a defensive position as he carefully steps to the corner of the building.

  Slow and steady, he inches his way along the wall to the corner. He pauses, but only briefly. He braces himself, for whatever might be on the side, and takes in a sharp breath before glancing out into the street.

  I grip the machete’s handle tighter. I take in a big gulp of air, and slowly vent it through my nose and mouth. Whether there is one or a hundred, I’ll plow through them if necessary. Whatever it takes.

  “I count maybe six chasers total. Four in the street and two on the sidewalk close to... Oh crap.” Shane reels his head back in as panic sets on his flush face. His chest heaves slightly, breathing elevated as his body presses against the brick wall. The sudden movement makes me bring the machete up into the air.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He glances past the corner as far as he can without giving away our position to the creatures.

  “I think one of the chasers on the sidewalk may have seen me. He turned and glanced back this way, but it was hard to tell if he actually noticed me. He was missing one eye and the other look like chewed dog meat, so I don’t know.”

  I grab Shane’s arm and move him down the wall past me. I hug the rigid surface of the brick wall with my left shoulder while keeping the machete up and ready to strike a lethal blow. I near the edge of the structure, and peer out far enough to get eyes on the chasers.

  The ones in the street are ambling about. Their shoulders droop forward with their heads dangling toward the ground as if they have no purpose or will to move with haste. Each step they make looks laborious at best.

  My gaze shifts to the left, past the dust-covered green sedan, to the two chasers meandering along the sidewalk. The one closest to us shuffles its tattered white shoes in our direction. It stops. It’s head tilts back slightly with its mangled nose trained in the air. It stays frozen in that position for a few seconds before lowering its head back down. I don’t think it can actually see or detect us as it doesn’t look directly at the corner of the building. I think it’s responding to some movement that it might have heard.

  I lean against the wall, and shift my attention back to Shane who looks ready to throw down. His arms are up in the air in front of him. Wrinkles form above his brow as a serious, focused look washes over his face.

  “I don’t think that one can see. If it had spotted you, it would’ve signaled in some way. It’s not advancing toward us,” I say.

  Shane points the end of his blade across the street at the buildings that line the opposite side of the road. “I’m not sure running across the street would be a wise decision. I see no outlet over there, and I’m not sure exactly sure what’s inside those buildings.”

  I nod in agreement.

  Rushing into a building with no clue what is lurking inside is never a good idea. Especially when you run the risk of having a pack of chasers hot on your butt. It could prove to be fatal.

  “Is there no other way we could go?”

  Shane scratches at the scruff on his chin and the side of his face. He shifts his gaze to the right, and down the street. More buildings continue on along the long, desolate road.

  “We could try to make our way down there, but I’m not sure where we would go after crossing behind that last building. Could be a ton more chasers over there.”

  Crap. Not what I wanted to hear.

  I’m not looking to add any more time to this venture. Cassie can’t afford it, and neither can my sister. The longer things take, the more I feel as though the people I care about are one step closer to being in the grave, or worse yet, turned by the creatures. I can’t have that happen. Not again.

  Do whatever it takes to get to them. Just make it happen.

  I glance back to Shane, and turn my hat backward on my head. There’s really only one way for us to tackle this. We’re going to have to go through them. I’m not sure if he’s going to be down to go along or not, but he really doesn’t have a choice. He made the choice to come, and if he wants to rescue his family, he’s going to have to do whatever is necessary to ensure that happens.

  The chasers are in our way, and I plan on plowing the road.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “You want to do what again?” Shane lifts his right eyebrow slightly in the air. He exhales a deep sigh of uncertainty through his taut lips. He shakes his head and offers a single nod.

  “We do this right, and we’ll be able to manage their numbers easier than if we were to run out there, and try to take them all on at once,” I reassure. “It’s not the best approach, but the only one we’ve got to work with.”

  “All right. Let’s do this.”

  I take the side of the machete, and gently rap it against the side of the brick building. I peer far enough around the corner to watch their response. I hope that we’ll be able to attract the two who are on the sidewalk, without snaring the other four’s attention.

  At first, the chasers appear to be deaf to the noise. They continue their mindless stumbling about. I try again, but tap the blade a tad bit harder against the edge of the building. The one closest to us stops once more and turns back this way. There is no wondering if it heard a noise or not. It instantly heads this way. It’s not in a dead sprint, but more of a fast-paced stumbling walk due to its meager legs that are riddled with large gashes, and chunks of muscle, and flesh that look to have been torn free.

  I step back from the corner, and ready myself with the machete. Shane stands just behind me and off to my right with his knife in the air.

  The chaser’s shallow growls grow louder as it nears the corner. My heartrate increases with every yowl that escapes its lips. I remain in control, though, not letting loose the desire to savagely attack the creature.

  The chaser stumbles into view and spots us. It’s once clunky movement and lack of violent behavior instantly shifts to a frenzied rage of hunger. Its blood-stained mouth widens, revealing the discolored and rotting teeth festering inside its gaping cavity. Dirt and grime coat the chaser’s face as it roars.

  It reaches out for me, fingers fidgeting with the hopes of snaring my jacket. I bury the sharp edge of the machete in the front part of its decomposing skull. It doesn’t take much force to penetrate its head. The bone crunches, followed by a squishing sound. A steady stream of blood races down the middle of its face.

  The chaser drops to its knees and ceases any further aggressive behavior. I tug at the blade, trying to remove it from the creature’s skull. More yowls clearly sound from the other, beckoning me to work faster.

  “That doesn’t sound like one at a time,” Shane nervously mentions.

  “I never said it was foolproof. I was just hoping for the best case here.” I finally wiggle the blade free as another body breaks around the corner. Shane rams the tip of his blade into the side of its head. He presses his forearm into the chaser’s smirched rags and drives it back against the wall hard. The impact makes a dull thud. A final howl escapes its mouth as it slumps forward lifelessly.

  The steady thump of feet pounding on pavement echoes down the alley—the combined growls of the infected drawing closer.

  I brush past Shane, and dart for the corner of the building just as another chaser materializes. I swing the machete as hard as I can at the creature’s neck. The blade slices through its black flesh with ease and emerges out the other side. The head tilts to the right and tumbles down the right side of its body.

  It stumbles a few more feet, with its arms wildly searching for anything to grab onto, before falling to the ground. Its head bounces past me with eyes wide and full of carnal rage. Its teeth chatter up and down as it continues on through the overgrown vegetation.

  Three down. Three to go.

  I step out onto the sidewalk, and
confront the remaining chasers who are within arm’s reach. Their once dormant and vegetative state has given way to the ravenous fiends who have gnawed through the western world. I strike the creature closest to me at an angle. The blade cleaves a portion of its jaw free from its gaunt face. A thin strand of muscle keeps the dangling bone in place as the chaser stumbles off to the side.

  The remaining two crash into me, knocking me down to the concrete hard. I hit with a dull thud, and the air rips from my lungs. The bulk of the automatic rifle burrows into my spine, causing me to grimace in pain. They converge on me with rapacious hands, frantically reaching for my body.

  I thrust my legs at the chasers, trying to keep them at bay. Shane charges the creatures and collides with them. He knocks them off balance, and stumbles back into the street.

  “You good?” He reaches down and offers me his hand.

  “Yeah. Let’s finish these freaks off.” I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet. The chasers regain their focus. Shane and I step away from one another. The creatures split apart, and pick their targets.

  They growl and bear their teeth. I charge full steam ahead, and bury the dense blade of the machete into the chaser’s upper right shoulder, the nice meaty part between the collar bone and the bottom of its throat, as it tries to strike me with its right arm.

  Blood rushes down its mangled flesh.

  The sanguine fluid stains the front of its tattered blue sweatshirt. I slide the machete down and out of the chaser’s torso. I continue my assault, hacking away on the wounded area until the chaser falls to the cement, lifeless.

  Shane spins the large knife about while holding the remaining chaser at bay. His palm is pressed into its chest. Its teeth chatter as voracious yowls spew from the creature’s gaping cavity. He plunges the tip of the blade into the bottom of its jaw. The gleaming silver of the steel vanishes into the chaser’s head. Blood rushes down past the hilt and onto Shane’s hand. He holds it fixed inside the chaser’s skull for a second longer before pulling it out.