Dead State (Book 4): Immune Read online

  BOOK 4

  BY

  Copyright

  Immune

  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

  Enjoy the book? Spread the word…

  Dead State Series

  The Huntress Bane 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.

  Immune

  Beta Readers – My deepest gratitude for your help !

  Patti Holycross

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Panic.

  Terror.

  The soldier’s faces fall thick with the unsettling expression within a blink. They take cover behind the wall of battle-hardened vehicles and concrete barriers that are smirched with dried blood, and riddled with bullet holes. That can’t be good.

  They point to the plot of land to my right, then motion for us to hurry inside.

  I glance out of the passenger side window of the Humvee, and spot the cause of concern.

  Chasers. Not a full-blown army of the damned, but enough for them to be lethal.

  “Man, they just don’t give up, do they?” Lucas remarks.

  They don’t, and that’s the problem. It doesn’t seem to matter how many we kill, or how far we go, they just keep coming—a constant wave of rotting flesh and chattering teeth that search for a meal to satisfy their famished stomachs.

  The radio crackles and static fills the cab of the Humvee. A strained voice barks through the speakers as sharp reports of gunfire chamber off in the background.

  “Move your asses if you’re coming inside! We have more chasers inbound!”

  The line goes silent.

  The car blocking our path to the hospital moves out of the way. There’s a gap just wide enough for us to fit through. I hope.

  Lucas punches the gas. The tires squeal and send us barreling down the stretch of road toward the barricade that surrounds the hospital.

  A white glow flashes from the muzzles of the soldiers’ guns. The spark from the rifles light up in a circular pattern behind the barricade.

  The projectiles punch through the chasers’ decaying bodies, and exit through their backs. A fine red mist trails the approaching horde. Many go down while others keep charging.

  Duke barks and growls from the back seat. Cassie wraps her arms over his body and pulls him in close. She speaks to him softly, but it does little good.

  “Hold on,” Lucas advises through gritted teeth. He swerves from left to right, dodging the cars and any dead bodies lying in our path. He grimaces in discomfort from the gunshot wound he sustained in his shoulder but a day or so ago.

  I brace myself against the door and dash. Off to my right, I spot more chasers racing across the grass toward the hospital.

  Five frail frames, draped in tattered rags, bear down on the hospital. Blood soaked strands of their clothing flutter in the wind. They turn and spot us. They change direction and rush headlong toward the Humvee. Their faces are sunken. Deep, hollow pits with enraged wide eyes narrow at us. Their teeth chatter rapidly.

  One by one, the soldiers shoot the infected in the heads, and send them stumbling to the earth in a heap of dead flesh.

  Lucas keeps his foot pressed to the floorboard and makes for the narrow gap. We have no choice but to run over the dead bodies that lay in our way. We’re jostled about and tossed from side to side as Lucas does his best to avoid hitting every corpse that lies in the road.

  The soldiers wave us in as more chasers converge on the hospital from the surrounding buildings. It’s not a large horde, but more than enough to warrant panic among the living. I can’t get a count of their strength from the rough ride of the Humvee.

  I continue to stare out the window at the decrepit bodies sprinting toward the hospital as we breach the edge of the barricade. The Humvee scrapes through. The car’s bumper, to our left, scratches along the driver’s side while a concrete barrier rakes along the passenger doors. We ignore the sound.

  “Where the hell are they coming from?” I bark.

  The chasers seem to rise up out of the ground from behind the abandoned cars and manifest from the ruins of destroyed buildings.

  “Doesn’t really matter. They’re here now.” Lucas jerks the steering wheel hard to the left and makes for an open space that isn’t occupied by any soldiers. He slams the brakes, bringing the bulky vehicle to a skidding halt.

  I sling open my door.

  The report of the soldiers’ rifles discharging creates a loud crescendo that fills the sky. Lethal and deadly, the marksmanship of the armed military men dwindles the number of dead trying to breach the barricade.

  I catch brief flashes of the chasers falling like dominos as a pink mist explodes from the backs of their heads.

  The radio crackles, followed by the stern, gruff voice from earlier that granted us entry to the hospital. “Jacobson is waiting for you in Section C of the lower level parking garage. Make your way there now, and he’ll escort you into the facility. It isn’t safe outside.”

  No kidding.

  The line goes silent.

  “James. Come on. Get inside,” Lucas shouts from the cab.

  The soldiers stop firing. The chasers have been neutra
lized, for now. The soldiers lower their weapons and skim over the area for any more threats that might be lurking within the nearby buildings.

  The streets have been blocked off with cars and any other bulky objects to provide a defense against the infected. The short, wide buildings that encompass the area around the hospital stand in partial ruins. Mounds of busted brick and wood litter the landscape.

  Duke’s sharp barks die off. He groans and paws at the center console as I slip back into the passenger seat. He leans over and licks the side of my face.

  “Thanks, boy.” I close the door. My head falls back to the headrest while Lucas puts the Humvee in drive. I exhale a deep sigh of relief, thankful that we have arrived at the place my sister, Cindy, was brought to.

  We head to the left and drive adjacent to the expansive hospital. Lucas hooks a right and takes us down into the lower parking garage.

  I watch the yellow lights mounted on the walls pass by. The sound of the Humvee’s engine melds with the tires traveling over the pavement. It echoes throughout the nearly empty underground parking garage.

  Round and round we go as we move further below the hospital. I had my doubts that this day would ever come. That I’d be reunited with my little sister. Cindy is the only blood family I have left in this God forsaken world. A link to my past that teeters on the verge of being snuffed out with her being infected. It’s a known, and that’s the scary part.

  I’m not sure how I’m going to explain where our parents are to her. Even if I omit the gruesome tale of how I was forced to kill them because they were infected, just merely speaking the words that they are dead and gone is going to be unbearable.

  Strong.

  That is what I must continue to be. Not only for myself, and the extended family that has joined me on my journey, but for Cindy as well.

  We are no longer kids. Those days are done. If we hope to survive, we must remain steadfast and strong. It’s the only way that we’ll remain among the living.

  We make the last bend and enter the lowest level of the parking garage. A number of military transports are parked along the walls of the concrete garage—Humvees and larger vehicles I can only assume are used for transporting large amounts of soldiers.

  On the far side of the space are a half dozen soldiers standing at the ready. They have their rifles pressed to their chests, and their attention focused on us.

  “Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever received,” Lucas half-jokingly says. He scratches at his thick, black beard as a smirk slips across his long face. The crow’s feet, in the corner of both his eyes, are deep.

  I glance over to Lucas. “At least they’re not firing at us. I’ll call that a win.”

  “Are you becoming a glass half full kind of guy now?” Lucas half smiles through the discomfort he’s battling with his shoulder. His body stiffens for a second as his lips purse and he grunts.

  I shrug. “Maybe. I’m just relieved to have found Cindy.”

  Cassie leans forward, and gently places her palm on my left shoulder. “We’re glad as well. Looking forward to meeting her.”

  Lucas slows the Humvee down as we get closer to the soldiers. Their hands reposition over their rifles. They shoulder the weapons, and take aim at the windshield of the vehicle. This doesn’t look good.

  “What are they doing?” All I see is another barrier between me and the only family I have left. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get to Cindy. Even if that means I have to fight my way through them, I will.

  “Just hold on, James,” Lucas calmly advises. “I imagine they’re just being cautious. After all, they didn’t even have to let us in, especially with the chasers attacking like they were. Keep it calm and collected, and everything will be fine.”

  I hope he’s right. We have come so far, and sacrificed so much that I can’t bear for it to just end right here.

  One of the soldiers holds up his hand. Lucas brings the Humvee to a dead stop in the middle of the parking garage, and kills the engine.

  Standing in the middle of the pack of armed men is a man dressed in tan, brown, and gray fatigues. He stands rigid with his arms clasped behind his back. He has the typical high and tight haircut that Dad used to have when he served.

  His intense gaze hones in on us through the windshield. He lifts his arm and motions with his fingers for us to disembark the transport. Is this Jacobson?

  We open our doors.

  The soldiers fan out to either side of the vehicle as we step out. Their weapons are deadlocked on us, the barrels of their rifles trained at our chests.

  Duke hops out of the backseat and comes up to my side. He sits down on his hind legs next to me. His non-aggressive demeanor offers a bit of relief to an otherwise tense situation. The soldiers are already on edge from the way they are greeting us, and we don’t need to escalate the tension anymore.

  The soldiers surrounding us are just as stone-faced as their leader. Pursed lips and narrow eyes are all that I see. I try not to think of Tony, the soldier who defected from his unit back when the outbreak first started, and helped us get to my family’s cabin. Back then the military was trying to cover up a horrible event by killing its own citizens.

  It is hard not to think of such things in the moment. For the military, it would be easier to not take the risk, and just blow our brains out. Simple and uncomplicated. Then again, having more living around than the dead will be needed to rebuild the world once we win. IF we win.

  “Thank you for letting us in. I’m James. We’re looking for my sister, Cindy,” I say aloud.

  My words fall on deaf ears. I’m not offered so much as a blink from the soldiers.

  The man standing before the Humvee heads straight for me. His men remain steadfast with their fingers hugging the triggers of their rifles. He looks us over, then nods to one of the soldiers close by.

  The soldier lowers his rifle, and slings the black strap attached to the weapon over his right arm. “If you have any weapons on your person, give them up now. You will not be let inside with any kind of weapons, regardless of what they are. This is non-negotiable.”

  I left the machete in the cab, and have nothing else on me that would need to be given.

  “Arms up,” a soldier demands to my right.

  A subtle growl escapes from Duke’s snout, but he remains planted on his haunches. I rub the crown of his head with my fingertips as the soldier approaches.

  Slowly, I lift my arms above my head, shift to the side, and stand directly in front of the soldier.

  He grabs my left arm first and pats me down. I glance to the side and look over to Cassie and Lucas who are being given the same treatment.

  The soldier moves down my chest then to my waist. This is the first time I’ve ever been patted down as if I’m a threat. He finishes up with both legs and takes a step back.

  “He’s clean,” the soldier states.

  The two soldiers clear Cassie and Lucas as well.

  Jacobson nods at the soldiers, who drop their weapons and fall back into position around us.

  “Have any of you had direct contact with the infected? Any injuries sustained from any such encounter?”

  I look to Lucas. “Like I stated on the radio, my friend down there was shot in the shoulder. It was dressed as well as we could get it, but it probably needs to be tended to. Other than that, we haven’t suffered any injuries as a result from the chasers.”

  The report of gunfire from up top grabs our attention. Jacobson turns on his heels. The soldiers spin about, and take aim with their rifles. The gunfire lasts for a few seconds before ebbing away.

  Jacobson turns back toward us, and the soldiers follow suit. His eyes briefly cut to Cassie and Lucas who’s standing off to the side.

  He brings his focus back to me. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  That’s how our current situation feels.

  The soldiers line us up in a single file line, and f
lank us—two in the back, two up front, and one on either side of us. Jacobson stands off to my right. His narrowed gaze shifts from me to Cassie, and finally Lucas who’s at the back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he wasn’t happy with us being here.

  “Let’s move out!” He turns about sharply, facing a set of large, gray, double doors. He heads for the entrance to the hospital. The soldiers move us along by marching forward in perfect sync with each other. Duke stays glued to my side. I continue to rub his head with my fingers to keep him calm.

  The doors swing inward. More soldiers are posted on either side of the entrance with rifles clutched tightly in their hands. They offer more of the same emotionless expression as the soldiers escorting us in—pursed lips and focused eyes that linger in our direction as we stroll by.

  I gulp.

  I’m not sure what’s more unsettling, being among the dead or these soldiers.

  We’re led down a dimly lit corridor. It’s narrow and lined with pipes and wires that snake along the dark-gray cinderblock walls. Large bulbs, mounted high up on the wall and encased in steel coverings, are sparsely positioned to our right. The ceiling is maybe three feet or so above my head. Not spacious or roomy by any means.

  Jacobson disappears within the dark spots that the light can’t reach. The only sounds I hear are the low humming of machinery in the far distance and our footsteps playing off the concrete walkway.

  “Do you know where my sister is being kept?” I finally ask.

  Jacobson maintains his brisk pace and doesn’t glance back.

  The corridor we’re walking down feels like it’s going on forever. A slamming sound from behind us echoes down the tight space. My head twists back over my left shoulder to find the double doors closed.

  I cut my eyes over to Cassie who has the same concerned expression as me. She remains silent.

  Jacobson hooks a right and makes his way up the steps to another large, steel door. He pauses on the landing. He balls his hand into a fist and raps his knuckles on the door once—a solid hit that’s deep.