Survive The Fall | Book 2 | Madness Rising

by Shupert, Derek

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SARAH

  The world was an endless nightmare with no end in sight.

  Sarah fought to get free of the large, bald man who had taken her from the car. Her legs kicked at the air as she thrashed her head about with reckless abandon. She fought to worm her way free of his hold any way she could. It did little good to better her situation and only served to grow a pounding headache that swelled unchallenged in her head.

  The brute huffed and sighed as he lugged her through the building located on the dock. Sarah captured brief snippets of the water and ships out to sea before everything went black.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  The man stopped, then dropped Sarah on her feet. She wobbled in place, swaying back and forth, then from side to side. He bent down and wrapped his thick arms around her waist.

  Sarah tried to run away, but the disorientation swelling in her head kept her from escaping his hold.

  He slung her over his shoulder with ease and stood up straight.

  Sarah was draped over his wide body like a sack of potatoes. Her hair reached for the ground and impeded her vision. It wouldn’t have mattered since the building was dim. The only source of light came from the windows high on the sides of the walls near the ceiling.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice was thick with revulsion. “What do you want with me?”

  The brute kept walking. He shoved his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans and removed a flashlight. He thumbed the button on the side, bringing to light the interior of the structure.

  Stacks of crates and other boxes acted like walls.

  The brute weaved through the never-ending maze of containers.

  Sarah kicked her legs, and fought to wiggle free of the man’s arm.

  Chatter loomed close by. It was low and muffled.

  Sarah turned her head from side to side searching for the source of the voices, but only found wooden crates and other large boxes.

  The stale smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. It made her nose crinkle and her stomach turn. Blood rushed to her head and compounded her already pounding headache that much more. She was tired of being manhandled, but was powerless to stop it.

  Anger turned to fright. Thoughts of the men having free rein over her and Mandy stuck to her brain like glue. It made her feel helpless and alone. If only she had invited Russell over that fateful day when he called to let her know he was going out of town, then perhaps things would be different. Despite his shortcomings and addictions, she’d gladly trade everything to be with him over where she was heading.

  A heavy thumping caught her attention. It echoed down the long, dark hallway they were walking through. The sound stopped for a few seconds, then picked up again. An angry, muffled voice barked following each hard rap.

  The noise grew louder, more defined, the closer they got. It was definitely a person pounding away at a door or wall.

  Sarah thought of Mandy. She was a fireball. Full of grit and spice that didn’t always make everything nice. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was done wrong. The old adage rang true; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or pissed off for that matter.

  “Let me out of here, now,” The enraged feminine voice said, at the top of her lungs. “I have friends who are on the Boston Police Force. You asswipes are going to be so sorry!”

  Fists continued to hammer the wood, rattling the door.

  Brute stopped, then turned toward the ruckus. The flashlight trained at his boots. The darkness swarmed them, with no other light visible except for the dull white beam.

  Sarah wiggled her head, trying to flick the strands of her hair away from her face. She glanced down the hall from where they had come from. Two shadowy figures lurched in the darkness. Only their vague outlines could be seen. The red glow of something burning hovered in the air as they hooked a left and vanished beyond the wall.

  “Stop that yelling and carrying on, or I’ll give you something to scream about,” the Irishman said. He kicked the base of the door, then hammered his fist on it with two hard raps.

  The shouting ceased, as did the punishment of the door.

  Mandy?

  The enraged voice on the other side of the door sounded like her. Sarah longed to see a familiar face.

  Brute pushed open the door, and stomped inside like a raging bull. He huffed and sighed. Each breath exhaled was filled with annoyance.

  Shoes shuffled along the floor away from the menacing man. Then silence. He slung Sarah forward, dropping her on her feet. She stood in front of the towering man who was cast in partial shadows.

  A hint of light gleamed over the cheerless white walls. Perhaps from a lantern of some sort. Thick darkness loomed from the hallway with little to no hint of sunlight.

  Brute grabbed Sarah’s arm and spun her around. The sudden movement made her wobble and sway.

  In the corner of the room was the woman who had been screaming. She kept her distance from the agitated man as she looked their way. Her arms were folded across her chest as she paced about the corner. It looked like Mandy, but Sarah couldn’t be sure.

  Brute pulled a knife from his pants, and cut the zip tie from Sarah’s wrists, freeing her. Her skin stung from where the plastic had sliced into flesh. The bones of her wrists were sore to the touch.

  “I don’t want to hear anymore screaming or carrying on. Am I understood?” Brute pointed the tip of his blade at the woman.

  She nodded.

  Brute retreated back through the open doorway, and slammed the door shut.

  Sarah moved her arms from behind her back. The motion hurt and made her pause. Her muscles were stiff and rigid. The joints ached and throbbed. She inspected her wrists and forearms which were painted with strokes of red. A mixture of dried and tacky blood clung to her skin.

  Sarah grimaced as she touched the injured spots while looking at the woman. “Mandy, is that you?”

  “Sarah?” The woman stepped away from the wall and crept closer to her. The light from the lantern on the desk to her left washed over her face, revealing her best friend’s smeared makeup. She offered a warm smile, followed by tears that rushed from both eyes.

  “Oh, Sarah.” Mandy rushed toward Sarah who embraced her with open arms. They held each other close while weeping and crying tears of joy. Sarah wished it was under better circumstances, but she’d take it none-the-less.

  “I am so happy to see you,” Sarah said, whimpering. “I’ve been trying to get to you for the past few days. So much has happened. I tried to call, but the phones stopped working. I haven’t been able to reach anyone. Not even Russell, so I don’t know if he is even ok or not.”

  Mandy hugged her neck a few seconds longer before backing away. She dipped her chin and wiped away the tears from her eyes. “Likewise. I was waiting for you at Copley Place, wondering where the hell you were. I tried to call you. I figured you were probably trying to back out on me or something like that. You know how you are. When I tried to call you, I got the same thing. No cell service. Then the power crashed, and well, that’s when everything went to hell.”

  Sarah grabbed Mandy’s chin, then tilted her face to the side. It was hard to tell if she had any bruises or cuts on her face from the shadows and smeared makeup. “Are you ok? Aside from looking like a rock band groupie, I don’t see any bruises or what not.”

  Mandy sneered, then knocked her hand away. “Funny. I haven’t seen my face since being brought here. The bathroom over there has a toilet and sink, but the water pressure is abysmal with the power being out. No mirror either. I’d be willing to bet, though, that I look a lot better than you.”

  The side of Sarah’s face still stung from the backhand she received from Man-bun. She probed the puffy skin with her fingers. A shot of pain made Sarah wince, then move her hand away.

  “Yeah. Some guy in a man-bun was waiting in your apartment when me and David arrived. It went downhill from there.”

  Mandy’s face
lit up hearing David’s name, but soon evaporated after realizing that Sarah was alone. Her wide, hopeful eyes drooped as her body deflated. “Is he ok?”

  Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond or if she wanted to. His death clung to her back like a bad stench. She felt responsible for what had happened to him. She looked away. “He’s… It’s…”

  Tears rolled from Sarah’s eyes. The loss of her good friend hurt her soul and added to the overabundance of pain that had already punished her so much.

  “Oh, no,” Mandy gasped. Her hand covered her mouth as she stared at Sarah. “What happened to him?”

  “Man-bun did something with him. I’m not sure what, though.” Sarah fought to control her emotions. Her fingers pressed to her nose as she sniffled. The overwhelming wave of guilt was cresting and ready to crash into her. “It’s all my fault.”

  Mandy placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. A look of sadness rested on her face. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Whatever happened is not your fault. It’s those BASTARDS OUT THERE!” Her voice boomed like thunder in the enclosed space. The revulsion for the vile men was unmistakable. Despite having been threatened by the brute, Mandy continued her tongue lashing.

  Sarah gathered herself and focused her thoughts away from David as Mandy pushed past her.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah asked.

  Mandy rushed the entrance. Her fingers balled into tight fists. She hammered the door and kicked the scuffed wood at the bottom. “Hey, assholes! You’re so going to pay for everything you’ve done. Mark my words, I’m going to make sure each of you hangs for this.”

  The door rattled from each hard blow Mandy dealt. She wasn’t thinking straight. Their captors had warned her to keep it down, and not make any more noise, or else.

  “Hey, maybe you should ease up,” Sarah urged. “That guy from earlier seemed pretty pissed with you. The last thing we need to do is-”

  The door opened. A dark mass stood in the black hallway. The light from their room outlined his wide frame.

  Mandy retreated with her fist still in the air.

  The man stormed inside the room and grabbed her arm. What Sarah could see of his face was twisted into a scowl. His nostrils flared. “I thought I told you to stop that.”

  “Let me go, you neanderthal.” Mandy jerked her arm, trying to free herself of the brute’s hold.

  Sarah reached toward them. “Let her go and I’ll make sure she doesn’t-”

  The disgruntled hulk smacked Mandy across the face. Mandy’s head snapped to the side as her body went limp. She crumpled to the floor.

  Sarah rushed to her aid. The brute held his arm in the air, stopping Sarah dead in her tracks. He pointed at the wafer-thin cot that was pushed against the wall. “Sit down and shut up. I better not hear so much as a peep out of you.”

  “What are you going to do with my friend?” Sarah asked as she stood her ground. “Who are you people, and what the hell do you want with us?”

  The brute stared at Sarah without blinking. His lips pursed as the muscles in his arms twitched and flexed through his shirt. “Just shut up.”

  He bent down and peeled Mandy off the floor. Her head bobbled about as her legs struggled to hold her up. She looked like a marionette doll that was fixed with strings.

  “Please, sir. I’ll keep quiet,” Sarah said.

  Brute turned toward the open doorway and dragged Mandy to the dark hallway. She stumbled over her feet as she glanced back over her shoulder. Muttered words fled her feeble lips as she lifted her arm in protest.

  Sarah inched forward and reached out to her best friend. The brute skirted the jamb with Mandy in tow. Her fingers latched onto the frame for only a second as fearful eyes looked to Sarah.

  Mandy vanished into the blackness as a brief scream fled her lips. A ghastly gray figure loomed beyond the room, then slammed the door shut, sealing Sarah inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RUSSELL

  The ramshackle cabin was a safe haven among the densely populated woods.

  That was the best way to describe the eerie place they had stumbled upon. It was shelter, and kept them hidden from the hunter tracking them. That, in and of itself, made it more appealing than anything the great outdoors had to offer.

  “Well, it’s not the Hilton or Club Med. That’s for sure,” Johnson said, while looking over the drab interior with a disgusted expression. “But I guess beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

  The cabin was less than appealing. The floor felt weak under Russell’s feet. The scuffed boards sagged with each step he took.

  Russell’s nose crinkled as he caught a whiff of something foul. Perhaps feces from an animal. He glanced at the floor, but couldn’t spot any droppings within the layers of dust that had collected. Between that and the stale smell, it made for an unpleasant experience.

  A few wooden rocking chairs and a cot, with a less than desirable mattress that was discolored and torn, rounded out the place.

  “I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” Russell said, from the make-shift kitchen that was nestled in the back corner of the tiny cabin. “We’re not going to be here that long. We catch our breath, and lay low until it’s safe. I want to be back on the move in a bit.”

  Johnson rolled his eyes while limping around the cabin. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I think I’d rather take my chances out there than stay in here.” A look of disgust washed over his dingy, sweaty face. His hand ran along the top of one of the wooden rocking chairs that was draped in cobwebs.

  The sticky silk bound to his fingers as he pulled it away. He didn’t care for the accommodations, that much was obvious. Still, the cabin was a means to an end, and for now, it was serving its purpose.

  “Look at that. We at least have a sunroof,” Johnson said, while pointing to the few large holes in the ceiling.

  Beams of light funneled through busted portions of the roof, allowing what bit of radiance the trees allowed inside.

  “Why don’t you sit, and take some pressure off that leg. I’ll see if maybe there’s anything of use in these cabinets we can dress it with,” Russell said. “That might be a long shot, but we’ll see.”

  Johnson limped around the front of the chair. He grumbled while taking a seat. His hand pressed to the side of his leg as he leaned back.

  Max and Butch sniffed around the cabin for a bit before hopping up onto the bed. The springs squeaked as they sat down. Both panted, tongues dangling from their maws. They appeared to be happy with just getting a moment’s rest, and didn’t seem to mind the filth of the cabin. Russell felt much the same.

  Russell turned toward the rickety cabinetry in the corner of the cabin. There were two sets of upper and lower cupboards. The doors sat crooked with some hanging from their hinges. A piece of plywood acted as a makeshift countertop. The rigid wood surface was stained red, which had seeped into the grain. Rusted pots and pans were scattered along the top of the counter. Their bottoms and sides were blackened.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for some time,” Russell said, as he skimmed over everything. “I’m kind of glad. I’m getting a real backwoods hillbilly horror vibe here.”

  Off to the side of the cabinets was a wood burning heater. The black, cast iron firebox looked to be in relatively good shape. One of the few items in the cabin that were.

  “Well, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t. There are some crazy-ass people in these hills that do some pretty disgusting things. I’ll spare you the details.”

  “I appreciate that,” Russell replied.

  Johnson tore the side of his trousers to get a better look at the wound. His leg rotated to the side far enough for him to inspect the damage. “Looks like the bullet caught the outside of my leg. I think it went straight through, though.”

  Russell sifted through the cabinets, opening each door cautiously. He wasn’t a fan of rodents and figured the cabin would house the dreadful vermin.

  “So, you’re not going to lose the leg, then
?” he asked, jabbing the deputy with his snide comment.

  “No, and that’s the least of my worries, no thanks to you.” Johnson shot back.

  “Hey, we could’ve stayed on the highway, but because of you, we’re now knee-deep in backwoods country, so I don’t want to hear it,” Russell said.

  The cabinets were bare of anything of use. He found nothing more than some empty glass jars and more animal droppings. Perhaps from mice or rats. Russell didn’t know which one and it didn’t matter. Either way, the thought made him shudder.

  Russell slammed the door, then stooped down. The foul smell grew as he reached for the cabinet in front of him. He opened it up and found a large rat lying dead on its side. His face contorted as he palmed his mouth and nose. The smell and sight of the decaying rodent did enough to curb his famished stomach.

  He continued checking the remaining cupboards. They had nothing of use within the mess of cobwebs except for one. Nestled in the back of the dark cabinet, Russell spied a bottle of some sort. He reached to the wall and grabbed the top.

  “Find anything of use?” Johnson asked from his chair.

  “A dead rat. Hungry?”

  Johnson gagged.

  Russell smirked as he pulled the bottle free of the cabinet. His eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. Excitement swelled inside of him.

  The brown tinted liquor sloshed about in the dirty bottle. Russell swiped his thumb across the front, revealing a whiskey maker from years past.

  “I did find this. Care for a drink?” Russell turned toward Johnson and shook the never opened bottle. “Might help with any pain.”

  “A rat and whiskey. We’re saved,” Johnson said, in a condescending tone. “I think I’ll pass. Looking at everything else in here and smelling that dead rodent, the only thing that sounds good is more water.”