Dead State (Book 4): Immune

by Shupert, Derek

  Burn you bastards. Burn.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Is it over?

  The subtle vibrations coursing through the floor have all but ceased. The nagging ringing festers inside my ear as Duke licks my face. I tilt my head to the right, and look over to Commander Reynolds.

  He holsters his sidearm, and wipes away the beads of sweat that have gathered on his brow. Lending me a hand, he pulls me up off the floor.

  “You all right, son?” He asks with a worried tone.

  I tilt my head. “Yeah. It’s a blood bath down there from what I could tell.”

  Cindy and the others charge down the hallway. Beams of light bounce about wildly over the floor and walls.

  “James! I’m so glad you’re all right!” Cindy holds her arms out and latches onto my side.

  I hug Cindy back, and kiss the crown of her head.

  Cassie comes up and gives me a hug as well, which sort of surprises me. Not that I don’t think she cares about me. It just catches me off guard. I hug her back as Cindy remains latched to my side.

  “We heard the chasers got inside the hospital. We couldn’t reach the team that was working on the generators or the soldier who accompanied you down there. We thought you were...” Cassie hugs my neck tighter.

  “I found Daniels and Simons. Their radio wasn’t getting a good signal. It kept breaking up,” I clarify.

  Lucas stands off to my left. Both Cassie and Cindy release their holds and step away. Cindy drops down and loves on Duke.

  Lucas places his hand on my shoulder. “Glad you’re ok, James,” he says with a smile. “We tried not to think the worst, but it was hard given the relay of intel that was being fed to us from the first floor.”

  “To say things went sideways down there is an understatement.” I offer a half smile and pat Lucas on the back. I dig my finger into my ear, and open my mouth wide to stay the ringing. I look to Commander Reynolds. “Chasers gained access to the sublevel from the parking garage. We got the one generator back up and running, but the other crapped out, so they stayed behind to see if they could fix the problem. They’re trapped down there on the lower level. Stevens is dead as far as I know.”

  “Did you happen to see any more of my men down there?” Commander Reynolds purses his lips. He breathes heavy through his nose as his fingers burrow into each of his eyes.

  “All dead as well, as far as I know. We only came across one who had been bitten. He held the chasers off as long as he could while Duke and I made for the stairwell. From the screams and yells I heard, it didn’t sound hopeful.”

  Commander Reynolds pats me on the shoulder, and offers a subtle bow of his head. “You’re one brave kid, James. Regardless of what happens, this won’t be forgotten.”

  The soldier standing nearby carefully cracks open the door to the stairwell. He has his rifle shouldered and the light attached to its bottom turned on. The smell of burnt flesh fills my nose.

  Commander Reynolds’s hand instinctively moves down to his sidearm, and his fingers wrap around the grip.

  The soldier pushes the door open a bit farther. He steps out onto the landing, his rifle sweeping from left to right. A haze clings to the air as he waves his hand in front of his face.

  “How are we looking?” Commander Reynolds inquires.

  The soldier steps close to the railing. He carefully leans over and surveys the ground below. I’d imagine the sight is a grisly one full of dismembered bodies and copious amounts of blood spread everywhere. Not a scene that I particularly want to see.

  My hand covers my nose and mouth to keep the stench away. Cindy comes back to my side. She leans into me and rests her head against my waist.

  The soldier offers a thumbs up. The faint yowls from the chasers who haven’t perished loom in the air. He grabs the door and moves back into the hallway of the third floor as Commander Reynolds steps off to the left. He closes the door, then presses forward, ensuring that it’s latched and secured.

  “The first floor is pretty much toast,” the soldier says. “Looks like we got most of them, but the ones who are still alive aren’t going to be running up here. That’s for damn sure.”

  “What about the entrance from the first floor?” Commander Reynolds inquires.

  “Couldn’t tell. Too much smoke.”

  Commander Reynolds releases a deep sigh. He runs his hands through his hair and turns about.

  “I think it’s safe to assume that we at least bought ourselves a little bit of time.” He places his hands on his hips, and cranes his neck to look past us. He turns about and glances over his shoulder. “Anyone see Sergeant Jacobson?”

  Cassie points to her right down the hall. “Last I saw, he was down that way.”

  Commander Reynolds retrieves the radio from his hip. He brings it up, and speaks into the receiver as he looks down the hall. “Sergeant, what’s your current position? over.”

  Static fills the air for a short minute before Jacobson’s voice crackles through any white noise. “I’ve been on the radio with HQ,” he responds. “I felt an explosion. Is everyone all right?”

  “Yeah. Had a mass of infected heading up the stairwell. Took care of it for now. We’re heading your way. Be there shortly.”

  “Copy that,” Jacobson responds.

  Commander Reynolds lowers the radio and fixes it back to his belt. He looks to the soldier then us.

  “Come on,” he says.

  We follow his lead and make our way down the dark hall of the third floor. There aren’t too many of us left. The civilians outnumber the military personnel now by a wide margin. Besides, aside from me and the others, it’s mostly nurses and a few doctors who are left.

  Not exactly a battle-ready unit. Although, with tossing that grenade down to the lower level, that may provide us the advantage we need.

  We hook a right and head down a long stretch of corridor. Commander Reynolds leads us into an open room where Jacobson stands near a desk that has a radio resting on its top. Another soldier is beside him.

  The area outside of the large windows is black, with no visible light to be seen for miles. It looks endless, as if the world has faded away to nothing.

  Their voices are muttered, barely audible from where I am. A lone lamp sits off to the side near the men—something similar to a portable lantern that one would use when camping. Their faces are cast in odd looking shadows.

  They pause, and glance in our direction. They turn about face and salute the commander.

  “What’s the latest, Sergeant?” the commander asks.

  “Transports are inbound now, sir,” Jacobson responds. “They got delayed some, but they are heading this way. We’ve got maybe a few hours before they arrive.”

  “They are aware of the threat that’s heading this way, right?” Commander Reynolds says.

  Sergeant Jacobson acknowledges with a tilt of his head. “They are aware, sir, but it couldn’t be helped. Units are spread thin with various deployments over the country and battling the chasers. They advised us to move to the upper floors and barricade any access points the infected could use.”

  Commander Reynolds scoffs. “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “Agreed, sir, but we don’t have much of a choice now. Our options are limited,” Jacobson retorts.

  Commander Reynolds laces his arms across his chest. He heads over to the windows and gazes out of them. Not a single word escapes his lips as we stand there, patiently waiting for him to say something.

  “How are we currently looking on ammo and men?” he finally says.

  Jacobson sighs, although he tries not to make it so obvious. It’s not loud, but the hint of his frustration is apparent. “To be honest, not good. Between the men we sent up to the fifth floor and the men we just lost down on the lower level, we’re sitting rather bare. Same for ammo,” Jacobson says while pointing to the floor above us. He rubs his face, then chin as if to contain the agitation of the dire situation we’re in before continuing. “We’ve g
ot four stationed up here on the third floor, in addition to us. We’ve got a handful of extra rifles left and maybe some additional magazines to go with them. Beyond that, we have depleted the remainder of our cache of ammo. Whatever we’ve got on our persons is all that remains.”

  Commander Reynolds turns away from the windows and looks over to us. We’re gathered together, all eyes focused on the commander as we wait for him to lay out what our next move is going to be.

  “Well, that isn’t good, but it isn’t the worst situation I’ve ever been in. All we can do is work with what we’ve got.” Commander Reynolds looks to me, Lucas, and Cassie. “It would be a safe bet to assume you three know how to use a firearm, correct?”

  Cassie snickers. “Yeah, we do. Anyone who doesn’t wouldn’t last long out there. I particularly don’t like getting too close to those things and would prefer a firearm.”

  Lucas and I reaffirm her statement with a tilt of our heads.

  Commander Reynolds smirks, then offers a half smile. “All right, then.”

  Cassie cuts her eyes over to me and offers a wink. That girl amazes me at times.

  Jacobson clears his throat. He points to me and glances my way. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think we should be giving rifles to these three. Especially the kids.”

  I turn to voice my opinion on the matter, but Cassie beats me to it.

  “Hey, listen, pal. You’re short on soldiers, so you really don’t have a leg to stand on. Furthermore, I know how to handle a rifle perfectly fine.” Cassie barks with a hoarse growl as she glances about at us, then to them. “If you look around, we’re all trapped up here. Besides, the more people we have that can actually use a firearm, the better off we’ll be. If those things gain access to the upper floors and we have to defend ourselves, we’re going to need all the firepower we can muster. Furthermore, James just risked his life to help you out when he didn’t need to, so don’t forget that.”

  Cassie is a firecracker, lit, and set to go off. She doesn’t mess around.

  Jacobson cuts his gaze back to her. His lips purse, and his eyes narrow. I guess he’s not used to being tongue lashed by a girl in such a manner. He looks back to Commander Reynolds who’s standing there with his arms folded across his chest. “Sir, as I stated earlier, please reconsider giving these insubordinate little shits weapons. They’re kids, and I don’t trust that they won’t end up shooting someone on accident.”

  Cassie sighs, then rolls her eyes. “The only thing I plan on shooting is any chaser that lines up in my cross hairs.”

  “I understand your reservations, Sergeant, and under any other circumstance this wouldn’t even be a discussion.” Commander Reynolds unfolds his arms. He turns to the side and points out through the window to the grim darkness that has befallen us. “But we have a mass of dead heading this way that will join the already countless infected below us. Most of our men are dead or turned. Our support won’t be here before those things arrive, so we’re going to have to do whatever is needed to survive this night. If that means that I need to put rifles in their hands to do so, then so be it. They have just as much to lose as we do.”

  Jacobson’s lips clamp shut, and he shakes his head. “For the record, I’d like it to be known that I do not agree with this course of action. I feel it is foolish, and it places all of our lives in danger by giving kids high-powered automatic rifles.”

  “Noted.” Commander Reynolds acknowledges the sergeant’s request. He lowers his arm to his side.

  “What are your orders, sir?” Jacobson inquires.

  “We need to get everyone ready to move to the top floor for when our birds arrive,” Commander Reynolds answers. “All hard drives need to be pulled and secured for transport immediately, Private.”

  “Sir!” The soldier standing near Jacobson snaps to attention.

  “I want you and another member of your team to go to the far wing and check that second stairwell. Make sure we’re good and secure. If it’s clear, we can evac this floor and make our way up from there. Hopefully, the infected haven’t breached that area yet.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier salutes Commander Reynolds, then sprints out of the room in a mad dash.

  “Sergeant, take our guests here, and get them outfitted with what rifles and ammo we have left. We’ll rendezvous at the main nurse’s station in twenty minutes. I want to be on the move as quickly as we can. I’m going to inform the nurses and doctors, and have them gather up what data they’ve collected.”

  Sergeant Jacobson salutes the commander as he exits the room. He lowers his arm and shifts his gaze to us with a scowl, but refrains from speaking what’s obviously stewing in his mind.

  “Follow me.” Jacobson makes for the door.

  We each offer one another an unsettling stare as we fall in line behind him.

  A part of me can understand his apprehensiveness about doling out weapons to civilians they just recently met. Afterall, I have grown leery of most individuals I come across in this world.

  It’s harder to know who one can trust, and be able to decipher those that are genuine and true from the complete assholes who want nothing more than to rip away what little you have. Even your life.

  Jacobson leads us through the halls of the bustling third floor. The nurses and doctors dart past us. The atmosphere is thick with fear and dread. I’m unsure how many of the hospital staff have actually had run-ins with the infected that wasn’t in a contained and controlled environment. Their panicked expressions and labored breathing hints that it hasn’t been much.

  We pass by Nurse Debbie, who offers me a worried glance. She shovels papers into a satchel as fast as she can. The flashlight casts her face in shadows that intensify the gloom.

  Cindy is anchored by my side. She refuses to leave or venture too far from me. She looks up to me, her eyes glassy from the unknown. “James, are we going to be ok?”

  I glance down to her. My hand softly pats her on her back. I offer a reassuring smile. “We’re going to be fine, Sis. I promise. There is nothing to worry about. I am not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Pinky swear?” she counters softly.

  “Pinky swear.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I never thought I’d be so relieved to get my hands on a rifle. With the number of chasers we’re facing, it’ll offer us a better chance at survival. That is, if Jacobson doesn’t do something first.

  I don’t think that’s a possible outcome, but it’s hard not to think it, considering that scowl is still on his face. He doesn’t have to say much for me to know that he doesn’t like having me and the others around. He’s made that point crystal clear, and I don’t think it’s likely to change. Fortunately for us, he follows orders well. Hopefully, that’ll hold up.

  Jacobson leads us into a small room that is mostly empty of any office furniture, or anything else for that matter. We all funnel in, flashlights in hand, as he makes his way over to the far wall.

  Four large, green, military weapon cases rest on the floor with their lids removed. I crane my neck and peer inside the empty containers. All of the rifles are missing.

  Dad used to go over weapons preparedness training with me. At one time, he had a few of those containers at our cabin. Stored under the floor in the cellar, he had them hidden and out of sight. He’d take me down there periodically, and show me how to access the case and remove the weapons. He even timed me once to see how quickly I could get from the main floor down to the cellar and get one out. You know, for when the end of the world happened. Who knew that would actually come to pass?

  Sergeant Jacobson grabs one of the containers and moves it off the side. The muscles in his arms contract, but he moves the case with relative ease. He bends down and unlatches the clips that hold the lid in place. He lifts it up and slides it off and to the back.

  Secured in a nice neat row, are a group of four rifles. Jacobson removes the center bar, securing the firearms in place. He pauses, then shakes his head.
He retrieves one of the rifles and stands back up. Clutching it tightly, he turns about to face us.

  “As stated before, I don’t agree with giving kids firearms, so I expect you to fully listen to what I’m about to say. These are not toys, and should not be taken lightly.” Jacobson glances over to Lucas. “Would it be a safe assumption to say that you’ve seen and or used one of these before?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Good. For you other two, let me break it down for you super quick. This is a-”

  “It’s probably an M4, right?” Cassie steps forward, cutting off the sergeant before he can really get started. “Standard military issue from last I heard. They were replacing the M16’s with the M4’s. Shorter and lighter. At least, that’s what Mack told me.”

  “Um, that’s correct,” Jacobson confirms. “M4 Carbine to be precise.”

  Cassie points at the rifle. “The M4 is an air-cooled, direct impingement gas-operated, magazine-fed carbine. Max rate of fire is 950 rpm’s. Weight is a modest six pounds or so. It fires the .223 caliber, or 5.56mm NATO round.”

  A look of shock covers Jacobson’s face. He glances down at the weapon, then back to Cassie.

  She looks over to me and shrugs. “Mack was big on teaching me about guns and safety. Not your typical guardian. He was friends with a bunch of military guys. He got his hands on one of the these, and we were able to fire it some.”

  I look to Lucas who appears to be just as surprised as the rest of us.

  Mack was a good man, for the brief moment that I was lucky enough to know him. He gave his life to save ours back in that little town where Lucas and I came across him and Cassie. His memory, and sacrifice, will never be forgotten.

  “May I?” Cassie reaches out for the rifle.

  Jacobson extends the rifle out to her, and Cassie takes it. She holds it in her hands with a familiar grip that looks as though she is used to handling the weapon.

  Cassie ejects the magazine, and peers inside. “Standard mag holds thirty rounds, but not this one, since it’s empty.”