“I think I have a right to be,” Russell shot back, folding up the map, and shoving it between the corner of the dash and windshield.
Clyde tilted his head. “I do agree, but what you did to that hitman back in your friend’s place after he told us what we needed was–”
“Was what?” Russell asked, his voice rising an octave. He already battled the guilt of taking another man’s life, whether he deserved it or not. “I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation. We just need to stay focused on finding this road, then this creep’s cabin.”
“Fine. I’ll drop it,” Clyde said, his back positioned toward the side of the road.
A set of what looked to be tire tracks leaving the road ahead of them and cutting into the dense vegetation appeared.
Russell tapped his arm with the back of his hand, then pointed out of the windshield. “Right there. See those tire tracks leading past that thicket?”
“Yeah.” Clyde checked the rearview mirror for any traffic, and slowed the sedan as they closed in on the concealed drive.
“I bet that’s it.” Russell leaned forward in his seat, studying the tire tracks in the tall grass.
Clyde turned the wheel and drove through the dense foliage. The brush and low-hanging limbs slapped against the outside of the car. The vehicle rolled through the pre-made ruts as they drove through the makeshift trail that snaked through the woods.
“You’re sure this is it?” he asked, working the steering wheel from side to side while glancing at Russell with a raised brow.
“Those tracks leading in here looked fresh, and my gut is saying yes.” Russell licked his lips.
They drove a bit further through the maze of trees and other dense verdure before spotting what appeared to be a car concealed within the foliage.
“Is that a car?” Clyde asked, pointing at the black sedan tucked in a small open space within a cluster of trees.
“Stop here. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.” Russell unlatched his seat belt.
Clyde pulled off the trail. The uneven ground jostled them as the car lunged forward and stopped between a narrow gap of trees. He switched the engine off.
Russell opened his door without saying a word. He blew past Max who scratched at the back-seat window. Clyde’s voice chased him as he darted past the ruts in the ground toward the back of the sedan.
The Ruger swept the vehicle and the surrounding woods. Russell peered through the back window. He made a wide arch, checking the inside of the car for any movement.
A rustling noise sounded at his back, followed by the jingling of Max’s tags. The canine raced to his side, sniffing the earth and tires.
Russell peered through the windows, finding the vehicle to be empty.
“Well?” Clyde asked, trudging through the grass and leaves carpeting the ground.
“It’s empty,” Russell answered, stepping away from the vehicle.
“We may be in additional trouble,” Clyde said, looking up the trail. “Looks like there could be more people here than just this Spencer guy.”
“Agreed. Keep your eyes peeled,” Russell shot back, moving toward the trunk of the car. “Come on, Max.”
They worked their way through the woods near the road. Russell shoved his way through branches and lush green bushes.
Max trotted ahead, scoping out the area, and sniffing the ground with his ears twitching.
Clyde lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. He hit the earth, face first. “Jesus Christ.”
“What happened?” Russell asked, turning around.
“Something tripped me.” Clyde rolled onto his back, then sat up. He knocked away the leaves clinging to his coat while scanning the forest floor, then pointed. “Is that a wire?”
Russell skirted past him and squinted. He bent down, spotting the wire running a foot or so off the ground. “It is.”
“Why would there by a wire like that out here?” Clyde stood up, knocking of the remainder of leaves.
“Trap, maybe. I’m not sure.” Russell ran his finger over the taut line. “I bet we’re getting close.”
Max emerged from one of the bushes, wagging his tail.
Russell stood and walked past him, getting back on the move.
They walked a bit farther through the maze of trees and bushes until they noticed a cabin ahead of them. Russell snagged Max’s collar, keeping him from going ahead.
“Bingo.” Clyde hid behind a wall of green, leafy plants. “Looks like someone’s home.”
Russell looked over the front of the cabin, then to the black sedan. He rubbed his chin, and soaked in the open area in front of the log home. “I say we head over to the far side here, then make our way down the porch to the front door.”
“Sounds good,” Clyde said.
Max turned and walked in front of Russell and Clyde as they worked their way around through the vegetation to the far corner of the home. His nose stayed to the leaves as he plowed through the plants and thickets without breaking his stride.
Clyde walked around a large tree away from Russell and Max.
A painful wail sounded.
Russell and Max ran to the other side, finding Clyde panting and leaning against the thick tree trunk. He gnashed his teeth, and closed his eyes while reaching for his boot that had fallen into a hole.
“Bastard set up some more traps,” Clyde said, wincing. “I stepped on a spike.”
“Shit.” Russell grabbed Clyde’s leg and pulled it up.
“Ah.” Clyde covered his mouth, limped away from the hole and sat down next to the base of the tree. “Damn thing hurts like hell.”
Russell examined the top of Clyde’s boot, then skimmed over the sole. A rounded hole punched up through the base, breaching the shoe. “Can you walk on it?”
Clyde shook his head while taking a deep breath. “I think so, but not too quick. Go on without me.”
“I can shoulder your weight, and help you along.” Russell reached for his arm.
“I’ll only slow you down, and could make things worse. You two go on to the cabin, and check it out.”
“Are you going to be good right here?” Russell asked.
Clyde nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Now go.”
Russell patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be back shortly.”
“You better. I’ve got the keys,” Clyde replied.
“Come, Max.” Russell got on the move. Max trotted at his side as they headed for the corner of the cabin.
The duo moved out from the concealment of the trees, and dashed across the grass to the side of the porch. Russell slowed and peered around the bend. He stepped on the planks of wood, and made his way down the length of rickety boards that creaked under his boots.
Russell paused at the side of the window, and peeked inside the cabin. A body lay on the floor near the front entrance, and another slouched on the couch through the curtains. Sarah wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor was the deviant for that matter.
Max panted at his side, then looked out to the expanse of the woods that surrounded the cabin. His ears twitched. A growl sounded from his closed mouth.
“Shh.” Russell rubbed his head, crouched, and moved under the window to the front door. He took a deep breath, pressed the palm of his hand to the weathered, rough surface, and pushed it open.
The door creaked inward.
Russell trained the Ruger at the opening.
Max advanced toward the entrance, nudging the door open with the side of his head.
“Wait.” Russell reached for his collar.
A figure moved from the side of the wall past the jamb. It grabbed Russell by the scruff of his shirt as he tried to back away. Russell squeezed the trigger, firing a single round.
The bullet skimmed past the man’s leg and punched the floor near his foot. He drilled his elbow into the middle of Russell’s back, knocked the Ruger from his hand, then threw him to the floor.
Max attacked, snapping at the man with glisteni
ng fangs as Russell hit next to the suit lying motionless on the floor. His face contorted in pain as he rolled to his back.
“Ah, shit,” the man said, trying to free his forearm from Max’s grasp. Blood flowed from the puncture marks. He jerked his arm, ripping it from the ravenous canine. “Damn dog.”
Russell got to his feet as the wounded man drove the growling beast outside. He slammed the door shut and turned about face.
“Where’s my wife?” Russell shoved the man against the door. He forced his forearm under the man’s throat and pushed hard, choking him. “Where is Sarah?”
The man gave a wicked smile. “You must be Russell.”
“Where is she, you dirt bag?”
Spencer kneed Russell in the side, then hammered the side of his skull with his fist. “She’s mine now. Not yours. You blew your chance.”
Russell stumbled back, shook his head, and charged the man.
Both men grabbed the other, grappling for the upper hand.
Max scratched and barked from the other side of the door.
Blood dripped to the floor from the bite marks in Spencer’s arm. He grimaced, jaw clenching.
Russell noticed the wound on his upper arm. His hand moved up. The end of his thumb dug into the damaged flesh.
Spencer screamed. Both lids slammed shut. His bloody mouth opened wide.
“Tell me where she is?” Russell said, sounding more beast than man. He forced his thumb farther into the bloody hole.
Spencer twisted his body away from Russell. He pushed off the door, and forced him farther back into the cabin.
Russell tripped over a dead man’s shoe, sending both men to the floor. They wrestled on the ground with Spencer straddling Russell’s waist. He decked Russell in the face, smashing his nose.
The back of Russell’s skull bounced off the wood planks. His body went limp for a moment–arms like Jell-O.
Spencer bent down and got but a scant inch away from him. “You’re going to die here on this floor knowing that you failed your wife just like you failed your daughter.”
The vile words hit Russell like a freight train. Anger swelled in his gut. A surge of rage and hatred boiled like lava through his body.
Spencer reached for Russell’s Ruger that sat on the floor next to the dueling men. His body lifted from Russell’s waist.
Russell grabbed Spencer by the arm, and jerked him to the floor. He mounted the sorry excuse for a human in a blink.
Spencer clutched the grip of the Ruger in his hand, trying to train the barrel toward Russell’s chest. Both men grunted and fought over the weapon.
The Ruger fired a single shot.
Russell deflated on top of Spencer, spent of energy.
Spencer gasped for air, trying to breathe with a hole in his chest and the full brunt of Russell’s weight bearing down on him.
Russell rolled to the side, and dropped to the floor, holding the Ruger. His chest heaved. He stared at Spencer who breathed his last breath.
Blood pooled on his chest. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, and his mouth fell open.
Russell dropped the gun and got to his feet. The room spun a bit, but he managed to keep upright. A dull, throbbing pain pulsated in his head. The palm of his hand pressed against the sore area.
“Sarah?” Russell called.
A knocking sounded from the hallway, followed by a faint female voice.
“Sarah.” A rush of relief and excitement flooded Russell. His bruised and battered body trudged down the hallway, tracking down the knocking that grew louder and more intense. He stopped at the far back bedroom and tested the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. “Baby, are you in there?”
“Russell, is that you?” Sarah replied in a jovial tone.
“It’s me. I’m here,” Russell said, happy that he had found his wife. “The door’s locked. I’m going to have to break it down. Get away from the entrance.”
“Okay.”
Russell took two steps back, lowered his shoulder, then rammed the door. It shuddered. Wood creaked and cracked, but it didn’t open. Russell kicked the door near the handle, forcing it into the room.
Sarah emerged from around the wall, limping and weeping. She looked at Russell with glassy eyes, then crumbled into his open arms. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Sarah.” Russell caught her and brought her close. He held her tight against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I was so afraid I would never see you again.”
He pulled Sarah away, and kissed her deep. She matched his loving embrace and held him close.
“How did you find me?” Sarah asked, moving away from his lips and looking into his tear-filled eyes.
“It’s a long story, but all that matters is that I’m here now, and I’m never leaving your side again.” Russell gave Sarah another tight hug, squeezing her harder than he ever had before.
“Spencer?” Sarah said. “Where is he?”
“In the living room, dead.” Russell helped Sarah out of the bedroom and down the hall, keeping her close to his side.
Sarah wrapped her arm around his waist as they passed by Spencer’s dead body. She peered at the door. “Is that a dog outside?”
“Yeah. His name is Max. That’s another long story.” Russell opened the door.
Max bolted inside, growling and searching for any threats. He turned toward Russell, then moved to Sarah. He sniffed at her legs, then her hand. His tongue flicked out and licked the bottom of her palm.
They walked out onto the porch, battered and beaten, but alive. Max brushed past Sarah and jumped to the grass.
She gave Russell another tight hug, squeezing his waist. “I have so much to tell you. So much that has happened.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to go over everything,” Russell replied, kissing the top of her head.
“What are we going to do now?” Sarah asked, worried. “The city isn’t safe right now, and there are still threats out there.”
“We’ll figure something out. Drop off the map and get lost somewhere. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters in the end.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ONE YEAR LATER
The cool breeze rustled the leafy branches of the trees. The warm sun shone over the wooded area of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Russell stood on his front porch, sipping his coffee, and taking in the beauty of the majestic scenery he watched every morning.
Tabitha, the Siberian Husky they found six months back, frolicked in the open field of the log cabin. The excited canine ran around, then dropped to the ground. She rubbed her back on the grass with her paws in the air. Her body thrashed from side to side before she got up, and gave her coat a good shake.
The door opened behind Russell as he took another sip of the tepid brew in his mug. Footfalls stalked toward him. A set of arms wrapped around his midsection and squeezed.
“Hey you,” Sarah said.
“Hey there.” Russell lowered his mug and turned around. He gave Sarah a kiss on her forehead, then placed his hand over the bump on her stomach. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Pretty good. I slept like a rock.” Sarah placed her hand over his. “I didn’t have to get up any because of you know who.”
“I’m glad.”
Tabitha looked their way, barked, then panted with her tongue dangling from her mouth.
“That girl is crazy,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “She does that same thing every morning.”
Russell raised his mug. “She loves it out here away from all of the people and other crap that’s plaguing the cities. I don’t blame her. I feel the same way.”
“I never thought I’d see us with another dog or be living in a cabin in the mountains,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “But here we are, doing it day in and day out. I wonder if and when things will ever get back to normal.”
“Last I heard, it could still be another few years.” Russell patted her hand with his. “To be honest, I’m no
t sure I’d ever want to go back. I love it here and the life we have now. I have everything I need.”
“Likewise.” Sarah gave Russell another squeeze.
A bark sounded in the distance.
Tabitha stopped and stared at the trees to the east. She inched forward, ears twitching.
“They’re right on time,” Russell said, watching the tree line.
Both Max and Butch, Thomas Kinkade’s dog, barreled out from the thicket surrounding the trees, and raced toward the Siberian Husky. The three dogs played, and chased each other like school kids, then ran off into the trees.
Sarah patted Russell’s stomach. “Come on. We need to go. Cathy, Amber, and Mandy are waiting for us. You know how they get when we’re late for lunch.”
“Yeah. We better leave.”
Russell smiled, happy to be alive and with those who meant everything to him. He was content being far removed from volatile society and had no plans of ever going back.
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About the Author
Derek Shupert is an emerging Science Fiction Author known for his captivating dystopian storylines and post-apocalyptic-laden plots. With various books and anthologies underway, he is also the author of the Dead State Series.
During his free time, Derek enjoys reading, exercising, and watching apocalyptic movies and TV shows like Mad Max and The Walking Dead. Above all, he is a family man who cherishes nothing more than quality time spent with his loved ones.
To find out more about Derek Shupert and his forthcoming publications, visit his official website at www.derekshupert.com.
Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back Page 22