Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back

by Shupert, Derek

  The beam from the flashlights barely broke the heavy darkness on the second-floor landing. The rhythmic thumping of their footfalls boomed in the dead silence of the building.

  Max pulled in front of Russell and galloped up the remaining steps, stopping on the landing. He looked ahead, sniffed the wooden floor, then looked back to Russell and Clyde.

  Russell ran his hand over the banister, focusing the light on the German shepherd as he raced up the remaining steps to the landing. He rubbed the top of Max’s head between his ears, and shone the beam down the corridor in the direction of Mandy’s apartment.

  Clyde stepped to the side of the canine, and swept the blackness of the hallway from one side to the other. The gleam traced over the walls and wooden floor before revealing the bright-yellow police tape at the far end of the corridor. “That has to be it down there, right?”

  “Yeah. Apartment 10 B is the last one at the end of the hallway. That’s Mandy’s place,” Russell answered. “Let’s go.”

  The trio moved down the corridor as one. Their lights played over the doors to the apartments they passed. Silence filled the building with only the panting of Max and the sound of their boots causing the planks of wood to creak.

  Russell took the lead and stepped in front of Max. He walked a bit faster, approaching the entrance to Mandy’s apartment. A portion of the police tape had been ripped and torn, leaving the loose strips to dangle toward the floor on both sides of the door.

  “Someone’s been here after the police.” Russell grabbed the torn end of the strip hanging near the doorknob.

  Clyde stood next to the jamb, and trained his flashlight at the door. “Whoever did that could be inside still.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Russell released the plastic tape and grabbed the doorknob.

  Clyde checked the hallway behind them and the apartment doors for any movement. He removed the piece from his waistband and held it at his side.

  Max sniffed around the sill, then lifted his head. He focused on the woodgrain with his ears perked and body rigid.

  Russell tested the door, twisting the knob clockwise. It turned with ease. He shot Clyde a quick glance, then gave a single tilt of his head.

  Clyde parroted the gesture and drew a sharp breath.

  The door pushed away from the jamb and creaked open.

  Russell passed through the broken-yellow police tape.

  Max trotted inside the dark dwelling with his nose pinned to the floor.

  The flashlight swept over the coffee table in the middle of the apartment as Russell passed the edge of the door.

  Max turned his way and growled, baring his fangs.

  “What is–” Something dense pressed to Russell’s temple from the other side of the door. He froze and cut his eyes toward the kitchen, but couldn’t make out who had the pistol aimed at his head.

  “Hold it right there and don’t move,” the man said in a curt and stern tone.

  “All right. Just take it easy,” Russell replied, lifting his hands into the air.

  “You and your friend come inside and shut the door,” the man said, stepping out from behind the door.

  Max growled louder, inching his way toward the man.

  Russell walked inside the apartment with Clyde following him and held out his hand. “Max, no. Stay.”

  The German shepherd obeyed but continued growling.

  The man kept his piece trained at Russell’s skull, and shut the door behind them. The click of the latch slipping inside the jamb filled the dwelling.

  Clyde lifted the piece from his side.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” the man said, pressing the barrel against the back of Russell’s skull. “Drop it.”

  Clyde dropped the pistol and put his hands back into the air.

  “Why don’t you lower the gun and let’s talk,” Russell said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re here looking for my wife and her friend is all.”

  “Your wife, huh?” the man asked, perplexed. “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “Sarah Cage.” Russell glanced to Max who inched his way toward him a little at a time. “Her friend Mandy lives here. Who the hell are you, and why are you inside her place?”

  The man hesitated for a moment, then lowered the piece from the back of his head. “Russell?”

  “Yeah,” Russell replied, confused. “How do you know my name?”

  “I’m a friend of Sarah’s. I came here to make sure she made it all right and was safe,” the man replied.

  Russell lowered his hands and turned around, facing the shadowy figure that lurked near the door. He shone the light at his head, lifted his brow, then asked, “How do you know my wife?”

  “It’s a bit complicated,” the man said. “The name is Rick, by the way.” He stowed the piece in the waistband of his jeans, then extended his hand out.

  Russell looked at the bruised and dingy face of the man before him, then down at his hand. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, or whether or not Rick shot him a straight answer. Russell reached out and shook his palm anyway. He nodded at Clyde, then Max. “That’s Clyde. The growling pup is Max.”

  Max lurked behind Russell, moving between him and Clyde. He peered around the side of his leg and up at Rick, baring his fangs at the stranger.

  “Hold on there, Max,” Clyde said, scratching the crown of his head. He moved his hand away from the on-edge canine and retrieved his pistol from the floor. “We’re being friendly. Let’s not ruin that.”

  Rick tilted his head at Clyde, then dipped his chin and looked at Max, before his gaze flitted back to Russell. “Sorry for pulling the piece on you and all. Its been a tense couple of days to say the least.”

  “Looks like it.” Russell folded his arms across his chest. “So, how exactly do you know my wife again?”

  Rick shook his head, and held his hands up in front of him. “First, let me assure you it’s not what you’re thinking from the look you’re giving me. I’m not that kind of guy and to be honest, she mentioned you a good bit and not in a bad way.”

  Russell nodded, then licked his lips. He didn’t like the thought of Sarah hanging around other men, but decided to hear him out and not over react. “Good to know.”

  Rick lowered his hands and continued. “Anyway, Sarah was out on the street the night the power crashed and ran across the apartment building I live in. Folks were rioting, looting, just damaging any and all things, and she was looking for a place to lay low. She ended up staying at my place for the night, and the next morning we left to come here. That’s when things took a wrong turn, so to speak.”

  Russell unfolded his arms. He shooshed Max in a low voice while rubbing his head. “But she was all right the last time you saw her?”

  Rick walked past Russell and ran his hand through his thick black hair. Russell turned and kept the light trained on him. “Yeah, she was. A group of henchmen who work for Samuel Kinnerk, a local Irish Mob boss, were chasing us after we got my car from a garage a few blocks from my apartment. Any who, they thought we had some information on the owner of the shop and when we ran, they tracked us into an abandoned building. I stayed back to hold them off and told her to go ahead so she could make it to her friend’s place. Sarah gave me the address and all, but I wasn’t able to get here until a little bit before you arrived. I had to lose Kinnerk’s men, and with all of the crap going on in the city and the police being on the scene for a bit around here, it took me until now to get up here and check on her. From the looks of it, seems like something bad went down.”

  “So, no one was here when you arrived?” Clyde asked, standing next to Max.

  “Nope.” Rick pointed at the bedroom behind him, and shook his head. “I checked the bedroom there and everywhere else. It’s a rather small pad, and not too many places to hide. I was looking for clues when I heard the door and thought maybe Kinnerk’s men had tracked me down somehow.”

  “Did you find anything out while looking around?�
�� Russell asked, scanning over the coffee table and couch that had been pushed back and sat at an unusual angle. “Whoever showed up, nearly killed my cop buddy who was with Sarah here. Put him in the hospital. He didn’t get a good look at the man.”

  “Not that I’ve found.” Rick placed both hands on the sides of his hips. “I used to be a PI in my former years and went through what I could, but came up empty.”

  Russell placed both hands on the back of his head, sighed, then turned away. He paced the living room for a moment, walking past the coffee table. He worried not only for Sarah’s safety but for Mandy’s as well. The both of them had gone missing.

  “Did Sarah say anything else to you that might help us out?” Clyde asked.

  Rick shrugged. “Not really. She just said that she had to get here, and check on her friend to make sure she was safe. Other than that, not much else.”

  Russell tromped across the living room and past Rick to Mandy’s bedroom. He stopped at the doorway and shined the light over her messy bed and dresser against the wall. Wads of clothes carpeted the floor and dangled from the front of the mattress. It looked like a tornado had swept through the tiny bedroom, but that could’ve been how Mandy lived. He didn’t know for sure.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” Rick said in a soft, sincere tone. His head tilted forward and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “I didn’t know anything like this was going to happen. Could happen for that matter. I hoped to get here and find her safe with her friend. Kinnerk’s men didn’t know our names or anything else about us. Still, I feel as though I let her down, seeing as I offered to make sure she arrived safe.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Russell turned away from the unkempt room. “From the sounds of it, you did a lot making sure she wasn’t harmed by those goons. I appreciate as much.”

  “Yeah, well, I should’ve done more,” Rick replied. “I hate seeing bad things happen to good folks. She is a good person.”

  “That she is.” Russell nodded his head in agreement. “One of the best.”

  Clyde held up his hand. “Maybe she got out of here. Got away from whoever attacked your cop buddy. Where else could she have gone?”

  Russell ran the palm of his hand over his face in frustration. “She could’ve gone back to her place to lay low. She doesn’t have any other good friends like Mandy, that I know of.”

  “Let’s check there, then,” Clyde said, scratching his chin. “That seems like the logical next place to check out since we don’t have any other leads to go on.”

  “I guess you’re right. Wouldn’t hurt to look and make sure.” Russell gripped the barrel of the flashlight tighter and pursed his lips.

  Rick held up his hand and took a step toward Russell. “I’d like to come, if that’s all right. I feel part responsible for this and want to help you find her.”

  Russell glanced over to Clyde who shrugged.

  “That’s up to you,” Clyde said. “I’m good either way.”

  “I only want to help in whatever way I can. That’s all. Nothing more. I’m on your side here, Russell,” Rick said.

  “Sure,” Russell replied, nodding. He’d keep an eye on Rick and see if his intentions were truly that noble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SARAH

  The blackness seemed endless as did her torment.

  The trunk of the car closed in around Sarah. She struggled to calm her nerves, panting hard, and banging her fists against the lid that kept her confined in the dark, arid space. Each dense rap and plea for help boomed loud inside the cargo hold, but it did little good.

  The sides of Sarah’s hands pulsated with pain from slamming her fists into the unforgiving steel lid of the trunk. The bumpiness of the road jostled her about. Each imperfection was felt deep in her back and neck, making them hurt that much more.

  Sarah had lost track of time. Between trying to break free and passing out, she had no clue what time it was or where they were.

  The road noise filled the trunk—an annoying sound she grew accustomed to. It made it difficult to think straight and to formulate a way out of the hell she lay in. It felt like a pointless endeavor trying to escape seeing as the cargo hold had no latch of any sort to release the lid from the inside.

  Sarah felt around the coarse surface that covered the bottom of the trunk for the meds Spencer threw at her. She had taken a single dose of pills during her time in the enclosed steel box. It helped some with the pain, but it wore off faster than she wanted.

  The palm of her hand glided over the fibers of the trunk, finding the small, white bottle wedged between her hip and the back of the car. She grabbed the pills and shook the bottle.

  The meds rattled inside the plastic container. Sarah pressed her palm to the top and twisted the cap off. She dumped out two more pills, and plopped them into her mouth, giving little thought if enough time had passed between the last batch she dry swallowed.

  The pills stuck to her tacky tongue. It made it challenging to swallow. She tried twice, finding luck on the third time.

  Sarah laid on the rigid floor, staring at the lid of the trunk, lost in a sea of worry, fright, and hopelessness. Her vision had adjusted some to the blinding darkness, giving her the vague outline of the cargo hold and the few items stuffed in the back with her. As the day wore on, it melted away.

  Don’t give up. You have to keep fighting, Sarah thought. Giving in to the Creeper is not an option. You must find the strength and wait for your moment to strike.

  The words of encouragement sounded good, but her will had been crushed and her body was in bad shape. Being able to muster such an offensive strike seemed like a stretch and something that could bury her in trouble.

  The sedan slowed and turned. The semi-smoothness of the road changed to that of a more unsettling bumpy ride. The car rolled over numerous dips that punished her battered frame. She grimaced with each impact. Her jaw clenched. The back of her head bounced off the hard floor.

  The next five minutes of torture ended with the vehicle coming to a complete stop. Sarah palmed the back of her head. Her lids clamped shut. A headache had formed through her rigorous journey that the meds only dulled.

  The engine died. Silence lingered beyond the cargo hold. A car door slammed. She flinched and both lids popped open.

  Spencer had gotten out of the vehicle. She wondered where he had taken her and more importantly, what he planned to do with her next.

  The lock keeping the trunk secured clicked. The lid popped free. Darkness filled her gaze through the narrow slit. A gleam of light shone from outside and moved about.

  Sarah held her arms in front of her as the lid creaked upward. Both hands balled into tight fists. The nails bit into her palms.

  Spencer towered over her, shining the light at her face. The brightness made Sarah blink and look away.

  “I do hope the time you had to yourself allowed you to reflect on your behavior and how things will go from this point forward,” the Creeper said in a calm and collected manner.

  Sarah shielded her face from the light as best she could while trying to look up at him from the flat of her back. “Where are we?”

  “Home, of course.” Spencer moved the light down her body to the gunshot wound. He leaned forward, and studied the injury a bit closer. “I’ll be able to dress this properly inside, and you’ll have better accommodations to rest.”

  “And where is home, exactly?” Sarah kept her arms up in front of her.

  “A cabin I have that’s secluded and well off the beaten path. We should be safe here from Valintino and anyone else for that matter,” Spencer replied. “Please, give me your hand, so I can help you out of there.” He reached out for her, palm facing up.

  Sarah hesitated for a moment, keeping her arms in front of her.

  “Come now, Sarah. Let’s not go here again. I really do not want to resort to dragging you inside, but I will if need be.”

  Sarah didn’t want to go, but being forced out of the trunk and drag
ged across the ground sounded like a horrible punishment that her body did not need.

  “What’s it going to be?” Spencer asked, keeping his hand held out toward her.

  Sarah lowered her arms, then grabbed his gloved hand.

  Spencer removed the light from her face and helped her up and out of the trunk.

  The knots in her back clenched, making Sarah purse her lips. She mumbled under her breath as the Creeper aided her to the ground.

  Sarah leaned against the back of the car and palmed her side. The rush of blood surging to the wound made it pulsate.

  Spencer stepped away, and moved to the driver’s side of the vehicle. He opened the door and leaned inside.

  Sarah peered around the dark woods that surrounded the large cabin they parked next to. The hint of trees seemed to go on forever.

  The scurrying of animals loomed in the ether. The owls hooting tickled her ears. Other strange noises played along with the melody, making it feel more eerie.

  Spencer slammed the driver’s side door and hauled a plastic sack around the trunk. He held it up in the air, showing it to her. “I almost forgot the supplies we got earlier. It wasn’t much, but can be added to the reserves I’ve got here.”

  Sarah kept quiet, committing the surrounding area to memory. She glanced at the sack, then to Spencer who moved in front of her. The grip of the piece he carried poked up from the top of the waistband of his jeans. She contemplated going for the weapon, but in her weakened state, he’d probably beat her to the draw.

  “Where’s the pain meds I gave you?” he asked, lowering the sack to his side.

  “In there somewhere,” Sarah replied, pointing behind her to the trunk.

  Spencer craned his neck and shone the light around her and inside the trunk. He stepped to the side and took a closer look.

  Sarah scooched down the back of the car a few steps, moving away from the Creeper. Her palm stayed glued to her side as he retrieved the plastic bottle.

  “There we go.” Spencer tossed the pills into the bag with the other items, then reached for the lid.

  Sarah limped away from the car.