Survive The Fall | Book 2 | Madness Rising

by Shupert, Derek

  The fear was too great, though, and so was the drive to get to her best friend. Both drove her legs onward, whether Sarah wanted it to or not.

  The light in her hand guided her through the bowels of the structure. Large sections of the floor were either missing or rotted away to the point where it looked unstable to pass. The last thing Sarah needed was to fall through the floor and break her legs. She wasn’t keen to have the building as her final resting place.

  Sarah ducked into the unsettling rooms nearby and slipped through gaping holes within the walls. They dumped her out into a familiar hallway.

  The vaulted ceiling above jogged her memory. She shined the light up toward the cracked and crumbling drywall as she took a single step forward.

  The soles of her shoes rolled over something round and dense. Sarah paused, then stepped back. She tilted the beam down toward the dusty, wooden floor and found shell casings.

  Dark, red spots speckled the floor around the brass casings and trailed off down the hallway.

  Sarah checked behind her, ensuring she wasn’t being flanked. She turned about face and shone the light at the floor a few paces ahead of her.

  There was blood on the floor, but whose was it?

  The red drops were covered in dust and had been trampled. More shell casings were scattered about, but no bodies could be seen.

  The fear of the men looking for Sarah pushed her to escape the building before they managed to track her down.

  She swept both sides of the hallway. The light didn’t reveal any threats lurking within the confines of the rooms around her. She spotted an open space that had what appeared to be stairs descending down.

  Finally.

  The staircase they used when heading up to the first floor was dead ahead. Although relieved, Sarah approached the dark opening with caution. More of Kinnerk’s men could have shown up, or some other low-life for that matter. She didn’t know, and that troubled her some.

  She craned her neck, and hit the landing of the rickety staircase. With her back to the wall, she peered out from the bend and scouted out the area.

  The light washed over the fissures within the walls and worn, tattered planks of wood. No threats were seen or heard which relieved Sarah.

  Kinnerk’s men were like bulls in a china shop and didn’t believe in stealth. They were loud and gave their position away most times without thought. That was the only saving grace that Sarah liked about the vile henchmen. Their confidence was their ultimate downfall.

  Sarah stepped away from the cover of the wall and made her way down the stairs. The boards creaked under her weight. She knew it was coming. Still, the sharp warning kept her on guard, and her ears trained for any subtle footfalls from the first floor, or from the way she’d come.

  So far, so good.

  She was in the clear as she hit the landing and continued on to the last flight of stairs. She wanted to grab the Glock, but it would’ve been useless at the moment. It was nothing more than a paperweight. If push came to shove, she could hurl it or pistol whip any threats that crossed her path.

  Sarah hit the last step and paused. She stayed close to the wall and checked the hallway on the first floor for any movement. Both stretches were void of any activity. The only sound she heard was that of the wind tormenting the plastic covering the hole in the side of the building.

  Freedom from the structure was within Sarah’s reach. Although relieved to be out of the horrid place, she couldn’t help but think of Rick, and whether or not he was still alive.

  It ate at her thoughts like a parasite as she bolted for the hole in the wall in a dead sprint. The side of Sarah’s purse slapped her hip with each step she took. Her stride was brisk and long. She glanced to either side of the corridor, quickly checking the rooms and spaces for any potential threats waiting for her.

  The soles of her shoes struggled to find traction over the busted brick that laid before her. The chunks of clay shifted and moved as she sprinted out into the alleyway. Her arm swung at the plastic, knocking it out of her way as she lost her balance.

  Water splashed as Sarah clomped through the small puddles. She caught herself before falling to the concrete. She took a moment to collect herself, then glanced up the side of the building.

  Deep down, Sarah had faith that Rick would be all right as she had with Mandy and Russell. They had to be. With everything that had happened and was continuing to come at her, faith and hope were the only two things she had left to hold on to.

  Sarah thumbed the switch to the flashlight and stowed it away in the back pocket of her trousers. She turned toward the street and jogged down the alley.

  She was cautious and on edge, suspicious of any subtle sound that set off her internal alarm as she neared the sidewalk.

  She stopped shy of running out into the open, and toed the corner of the building next to her. More of Kinnerk’s men could be out on the streets, waiting for her or Rick to emerge. It was a notion that kept her wits sharpened and guard up. Not knowing was the hardest part.

  Sarah waited for a few moments and skimmed over the immediate area for any curious gazes. The few people who passed by along the sidewalk and across the street kept their heads down, but with the chaos, and rising madness within the city, it was difficult to discern who was a threat and who wasn’t.

  Growling bellowed from Sarah’s stomach as she wiped her palm across her sweaty brow. The stab wounds in her torso from the busted ends of the boards ached and throbbed. Her mouth felt arid, as if it were stuffed with cotton.

  Water and food popped into Sarah’s head, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. She’d have to stop eventually to regain her strength, but that time had not yet arrived. Her main priority was getting to Mandy’s place. Enough time had been wasted, and she didn’t want to waste anymore.

  Sarah shoved her body’s cravings to the side, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Her tongue danced over her dry lips as she kept her head down. She walked at a brisk pace toward the next intersection as she skimmed over the street and nearby buildings.

  For the moment, there wasn’t much activity on the block. No buildings were on fire, and no people were looting businesses. Compared to what Sarah had witnessed in other parts of the city, things were relatively calm.

  Sirens plagued the hazy skyline as a chopper buzzed overhead. Sarah’s gaze flitted to the gray murk as a military helicopter passed overhead. It was flying low, skimming over the tops of the buildings as if searching for a place to land. The rotors of the beast drowned out any other sounds.

  The tactical helicopter moved out over the road and held its position. The side of the bird facing Sarah was exposed. Uniformed men emerged from the hold and glanced down to the streets as the chopper hovered in the air.

  Sarah wondered if the military was moving in to provide aid. Perhaps the National Guard had been deployed to help regain control of the populous, and bring order to the lawless land.

  She stood on the tips of her toes and craned her neck, trying to see if any military ground forces were moving in from up the street. From her current position, it was difficult to see.

  The chopper flew at an angle, then vanished over the buildings. The bleating of the rotors faded to a dull thumping noise that battered the air.

  Sarah checked behind her and searched the road. A man stood across the street, nestled behind the corner of a shop. The man retreated back within the confines of the passageway as she gazed his way.

  An eerie feeling washed over Sarah as his head emerged from the alleyway once more. The bill of his hat was pulled down, concealing a portion of his face. He stared in her direction.

  She looked to either side of where she was standing to see if there was anyone else nearby. For the moment, Sarah was alone.

  The man emerged from the building and stood on the sidewalk. His head was tilted forward. The Boston Red Sox’s symbol etched on his hat filled her gaze. He didn’t move out of her way, yell at her, or excuse himself like a normal
person would.

  Sarah gulped, then backed away, retreating down the sidewalk.

  The man lifted his head, revealing enough of his face for Sarah to see who he was.

  A wiry grin slid across his face.

  The life drained from Sarah in a blink. She turned white as a sheet.

  The Creeper.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RUSSELL

  Son of a bitch.

  Deputy Johnson was part of Marcus’s crew. His vague admission at knowing what was happening with Cathy made Russell’s stomach sink. If the authorities were in bed with Marcus, then getting out of his current predicament was going to be a stretch.

  Both he and Thomas could be expendable targets—loose ends that needed to be wrapped up and taken care of. A slug to the head and an unmarked grave in the vast wilderness or some sort of prison sentence that made sure he’d never see the light of day could quickly follow. Afterall, they knew where he was from now, and his wife’s name.

  Given the current state of things, snuffing Russell and Thomas would be easy. Calling for help would be a stretch since communications were down. He and Thomas were cut off and at the mercy of the deputy and more than likely, his sheriff.

  Russell had to think on his feet and fast. There wasn’t time to plot out or strategize his next move. Lives were at stake.

  “You know you’re not going to get away with this, right?” Russell said. “Out of you and Sheriff Donner, who do you think is the low man on the totem pole when this whole scheme crumbles down around you? I’ll give you a hint. That would be you, asshole.”

  Deputy Johnson shoved Russell into the door again. His forearm pressed against the back of Russell’s neck as he punched him in the kidneys.

  The sharp strike ripped a grunt of pain from Russell’s smooshed face. He gritted his teeth and blinked, clearing the wetness from his eyes. “When you two asshats get caught, and you will, do you think the sheriff is going to go down for being corrupt? He’ll hang you out to dry the first chance he gets. Pin it on you. Face it. You’re the scape goat.”

  “Whatever,” Johnson growled. “You don’t know dick about anything, and you’re just running your mouth to save your own ass.”

  More pressure was applied to Russell’s neck as the deputy breathed heavily in his ear.

  The tips of Russell’s fingers quested for the keys that dangled from the deputy’s duty belt. He could hear them rattling with each hard breath that blasted his face.

  “Whatever, don’t believe me,” Russell said, as the deputy grew angrier with each passing second, “but when the shit hits the fan, you’ll hear my voice in the back of your head saying I told you so.”

  “You’re full of-” Johnson paused, and eased up on Russell’s neck. “Nice try, but it’s—”

  Russell pushed off the door and slammed into Deputy Johnson. He drove him back into the wall.

  The deputy hit the cinderblock wall and gasped. Russell spun around and kneed the corrupt cop in the midsection.

  The deputy doubled over and crumbled to the tile floor as he reached for his sidearm.

  “I don’t think so,” Russell said, as he kicked the deputy in the stomach.

  Johnson coughed and hacked as he struggled to breathe. He wheezed and gasped as Russell turned and lowered to the floor. He scoured over the deputy’s duty belt for the keys until they were found.

  Russell unclipped the keys from Johnson’s belt loop. He stood back up, and kicked Johnson again as he tried to get off the floor. “That’s for punching me in the kidneys.”

  Johnson groaned from the floor as Russell tried each one of the keys in the lock of the cuffs.

  “You’re a dead man–Cage,” Johnson said, breathlessly. “Not only am I going to kill–you, but that wife of yours is as good as dead as well.”

  Russell tuned the mouthy cop out as he focused on getting out of the cuffs. Three keys were a no go, but the fourth freed him from the shackles.

  The steel cuffs unlatched from around his wrists and dropped to the floor. The indents left in his skin stung. The bone ached and hurt just by touching it.

  “You’re not going to do-”

  Johnson swept Russell’s legs, knocking him off balance. He scrambled from the floor as Russell caught himself on the wall before falling.

  “Screw this. I’m just going to kill you now,” Johnson said.

  Russell rushed Johnson as he pulled his sidearm from its holster. Russell kept low and speared Johnson in the stomach as he fired off a single round.

  The bullet grazed Russell’s arm and pinged off the tile floor. It caught most of his shirt and a scant inch of flesh. A loud ring festered in his ear.

  Johnson drove his elbow into Russell’s spine. Each blow loosened his grip from around the deputy’s waist as they charged out into the bullpen of the station.

  Russell let go, then shoved Johnson backward. The deputy tumbled over a desk, knocking off the monitor and stacks of files. He hit the floor with a dense thud as Russell skirted the now crooked desk.

  Johnson lifted the pistol from on his hands and knees, his finger on the trigger.

  “I don’t think so.” Russell mashed Johnson’s hand to the ground.

  Another round discharged.

  White flashed from the barrel as Russell pried the piece from the deputy’s hand. He removed his boot from Johnson’s arm and took a step back.

  “Oh man. You have seriously messed up. You know that, right?” Johnson asked.

  Russell trained the pistol at Johnson as he slowly stood up. “I think you’re in no position to be threatening anyone.”

  Johnson grimaced as he used the desk as a crutch. Subtle grunts escaped through pursed lips as he glared at Russell. “What’s your plan here? Kill me and flee? I can tell you right now that won’t get you too far.”

  Russell took a step forward and grabbed a handful of Johnson’s uniform. The barrel of his pistol pressed to the soft spot under his chin. “How about I just pull the trigger and we find out how far I get while they mop the bone and brain matter from the floor.”

  Johnson gulped as his eyes widened. “You kill me and you won’t find Cathy. I can guarantee you that.”

  “You know where she is, then?” Russell asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Russell shoved the barrel further into the crooked cop’s skin. “It’s a yes or no question, unless you want me to pull the trigger.”

  “No, no, no, wait,” Johnson plead for his life. “I might know where they took her, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

  “What does that mean?” Russell asked.

  “They never told me where they were taking her exactly,” Johnson replied with a raised voice thick with fear. “He has a few places she could be at, but there’s one that is kind of far outside of town. Away from any curious eyes. Lower the gun, and I’ll tell you where it’s at.” The deputy gulped. His life hung in the balance, and he could see that Russell wasn’t messing around.

  “Tell me where it’s at?” Russell parroted.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. Do I look stupid to you?”

  Russell positioned his hand over the grip.

  “I’m shooting you straight here.” Johnson’s voice trembled and cracked as it raised an octave.

  “As soon as I hit that door, you’re going to double cross me, and I can’t have that.”

  “I won’t.” Johnson stuttered. “You’ve got my word.”

  The deputy’s word meant less than nothing. When one was faced with their own mortality, one would say and do whatever was needed to save one’s hide.

  No. Russell had a better idea. He had to keep an eye on Johnson, and he couldn’t do that if he ventured out on his own. The moment he left the station, Johnson would set into motion a world of pain that would rain down on him. He couldn’t risk Sarah’s life like that, or the others for that matter.

  “This is what we’re going to do,” Russell said. “You’re going to take me to this place. I’m not letting you
out of my sight.”

  Johnson shook his head emphatically. It was obvious he wanted no part of it, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “No way. If he or any of his men catches me skulking around his place with you, I’m a dead man.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll just take the info now and kill you,” Russell said. “How about that?”

  “How do I know you’re not going to kill me either way?” he asked.

  “You don’t, but if you want me to decide right now, I will.”

  “All right.” Johnson motioned with his hands for Russell to cool down and hold on. “Fine. Christ!”

  Russell lowered the gun from under Johnson’s chin. He took a step back, giving them a sliver of breathing room. The barrel trained at Johnson’s torso as he adjusted his uniform.

  “One more thing.”

  Johnson smoothed his shirt out as best he could, then asked, “Yeah. What’s that?”

  Russell backhanded Johnson. The deputy’s head snapped to the side. His hands pressed to the top of the desk as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  “You ever threaten my wife again, and I’ll kill you in the worst way possible.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RUSSELL

  Deputy Johnson didn’t conceal his disdain for Russell. It was plastered on his face. The furrowed brow and narrowed eyes more than conveyed how he felt.

  Russell couldn’t have cared less. The vile man was a disgrace to the badge he wore—a piece of trash he wanted nothing more than to dispose of, but couldn’t. Johnson was still an officer of the law and for now, that was the main thing keeping him alive.

  “Is that your Prowler out front?” Russell asked while nodding toward the front entrance of the station.

  “Yeah. It’s mine,” Johnson replied with a scowl.

  “Good. We’re taking it.”