Powerless World: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Survive the Fall Book 1)

by Derek Shupert

  He glanced to the opening, then drew a sharp breath. The plane continued to shift and creak.

  Russell stood and stumbled for the cavernous hole. The aircraft pitched further portside and lifted into the air. The razor-sharp edges of the fuselage sliced across his palm as Russell grabbed the barbed ends. The cut wasn’t bad, but bled some. He pulled with all his might and leapt from the Cessna as it tumbled from the cliff.

  The rocky face of the ground pummeled Russell. A yelp of pain slithered through his clenched teeth as he hit hard on the side of his sore shoulder. He cradled his arm and watched the plane vanish below the edge of the cliff.

  Russell rolled to his back and took a moment, allowing the pain to subside. He laid there, panting and trying to control his breathing.

  A thunderous crash echoed throughout the canyon. Tortured metal groaned. Not only had Russell lost his best friend, but he didn’t have any gear.

  No extra clothes.

  No supplies of any kind.

  Just the torn, bloody rags he had on and the few items he had stuffed in his pockets was all he had to brave the wild.

  Russell laid there, alone and afraid. He wasn’t prepared for the harrowing journey ahead. If he had any hope of making it back to civilization and Sarah, alive, he would have to go through hell to do it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SARAH

  The car had grown silent, but the tension remained.

  Time passed without word from the operator, or the authorities for that matter. It had been at least an hour or more from when the subway had come to a screeching halt, and the world went dark.

  The absence of light made Sarah feel vulnerable. The Creeper wouldn’t leave her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried to force him out. Her skin crawled from thinking about him.

  The passengers grew restless, pacing about the murk to alleviate the stress that gnawed at them. Heavy sighs and footfalls rattled inside Sarah’s head. The stagnant flow of air made things worse.

  Sarah sat in the corner seat toward the rear of the car. Her head rested against the window as she stared out into the nothingness, wondering what had happened on the surface. The ground above them had trembled and quaked.

  Did a bomb explode from a terrorist plot? If so, a small part of Sarah hoped that the fallout took out the Creeper, and she’d be free of him.

  “This is bullshit,” Tom groused. “They’re not coming to rescue us because something horrible happened up there. I know I’m not the only one who felt the ground shake earlier. That sounded like an explosion of some kind.” He stood in the middle of the car, with only the vague outline of his body visible.

  Sarah’s eyesight had grown accustomed to the dark, allowing her to see the other passengers as shadowy figures that moved within the ether. Cell phones were kept off to conserve battery life.

  “They’ll—come,” Debbie breathed heavily. “We just have to be—patient, and wait a little longer—is all. We still don’t know if it’s safe out there.”

  Tom snapped at her with a hoarse growl. “Yeah, we know what your plan is; sit in this steel coffin and wait to die. Got it. It’s not like we haven’t been doing that for the last few hours or so. If they haven’t shown up yet, I doubt they’re coming to help.” He pointed at each of the passengers and continued, “Whether any one of you wants to admit it, we’re on our own here. We need some air flow moving through here, which means we’re going to need to make some tough decisions. They’re still kicking over there, even with their door being cracked open, so that at least says we should be good.”

  A bright light, from Chris’s phone, cut through the darkness and washed over the passengers’ flushed, moist faces. His striped dress shirt clung to his chest, soaked in sweat.

  “If that time comes, we’ll make that decision as a group. No one put you in charge, friend,” he barked.

  Tom peered at him, his body stern and rigid. His chest bowed, like a gorilla being challenged by a rival male. “First off, I’m not your friend. Second, someone needs to step up here and take charge, or we’re all going to die. If the rest of you want to, that’s your bit, but I’m not sucking in my last breath in this damn coffin.”

  Sarah stood from her seat in a flash with the back of her phone facing the heated men. Light shone from the device as she raised her hands in the air. The squabble needed to be squashed and dealt with by a rational person.

  “I think we need to calm down before matters get out of hand.” Sarah felt like she was talking to a couple of kids who were having a spat over a toy. It seemed ridiculous, and yet, considering how Tom had been acting, felt like it was par for the course. “Arguing and fighting isn’t going to solve anything, or help us figure out what to do next. We’re all frustrated, and want to get out of here, but losing our cool isn’t going to accomplish that.”

  Tom peered over his shoulder at Sarah. The scowl on his face grew deeper, his furrowed brow more rigid as he balled his fingers into fists.

  He didn’t like being scorned in such a manner, that much was apparent. Between Nancy, Chris, and now Sarah, he had reached the end of his rope.

  Tom pointed at Sarah. “Listen, no one was talking to you, so why don’t you sit your happy ass down, and let the men handle business, all right?”

  The degrading remark shocked Sarah. She had never been talked to in such manner, and wasn’t going to allow it to go any further. “I’ll do just that once you stop acting like a five-year-old.”

  His nostrils flared as he took a step toward Sarah.

  She grabbed the latch on her purse, her hands trembling. She wanted her Glock. It was the one thing that made her feel safe in the moment.

  Chris stomped across the car and reached for Tom’s arm. He grabbed a handful of the smirched rags and pulled. “That’s enough of that.”

  Anger swelled in Tom’s dingy face. He spun on his heels and elbowed Chris in the nose. He stumbled backward into a chair, but didn’t go down.

  The businessman stormed the mentally unstable tyrant and speared him in the mid-section with his shoulder. The men grappled for control as they drew closer to Sarah. She grabbed the grip of the Glock as the brawling brutes slammed into her, knocking the purse and Glock to the floor.

  Both the purse and Glock clattered off the steel which caused both men to halt their engagement.

  Sarah had the light trained at the ground while searching for her piece. It came into view as Tom spotted it as well. He looked to Sarah, then back to the weapon.

  He kneed Chris in the gut, then rammed his elbow in his spine. Tom threw the businessman against the row of seats and went for the Glock.

  Sarah beat him by a mere second and scooped up the Glock. She backed away, then chambered a rounded.

  She trained the weapon at Tom’s chest. “Cool it now, and sit your ass down, or I will shoot you.”

  Tom raised his hands in a placating gesture. A wiry grin slit across his sweaty face. He sized Sarah up. “I don’t think you have the balls to pull that trigger.”

  The Glock remained fixed on Tom’s torso. Sarah didn’t want to shoot him, but she had to protect herself, and the other passengers, from his choleric state of mind. She hoped he’d heed her warning, and not push her any further. “I guarantee my balls are bigger than yours. Don’t force my hand unless you want to find out how big they are.”

  The man’s tongue slithered out of his mouth and over his chapped lips. The wiry grin remained.

  Debbie didn’t say a word as she aided the battered businessman to his feet.

  Tom tilted his head, acknowledging the threat as his arms lowered. Sarah kept both hands on the grip and followed suit while watching his every move.

  The homely man’s elbows touched his sides, and he lunged forward.

  The Glock barked.

  White flashed from the muzzle.

  Sarah’s phone dropped to the floor, screen down.

  A single round tore through Tom’s chest at point blank range. His face twisted into a mask of sho
ck as he stumbled backward.

  The tips of his fingers probed the hole. His legs went limp, and he fell to the ground. Shallow breaths escaped his mouth as he looked at her with wide eyes.

  He had forced her hand, and paid for that mistake with his life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RUSSELL

  The dense, rich vegetation of the Blue Ridge Mountains seemed endless, a vast spread of lush, vibrant green that spanned as far as the eye could see. Sprawling oak trees and cove forests coated the lands, and Russell was lost somewhere in the thick of it all.

  The forest floor was carpeted with broken limbs from the surrounding trees and portions of the aircraft. The mixture of small and large branches crunched under Russell’s boots as he stepped around the remains of the plane.

  Russell’s gaze flitted to the cloudy sky. The canopy had been shredded by the Cessna plowing through its umbrella. Jagged ends from the broken limbs looked like spears pointing at the heavens. Any branches that remained intact were void of any leaves.

  The spike of adrenaline waned, and the scope of damage done became all too real. His shoulder throbbed, among other parts of his body.

  A stabbing pain festered in Russell’s side. His head pounded like a snare drum with each step he took. His ankle radiated trouble when he applied pressured. It hurt to breathe, but that could’ve been because of the plane crash.

  What a day it had already been, and it was only going to get worse from there.

  Russell licked his parched lips. He craved something wet and it wasn’t water. A stiff drink on the rocks crossed his mind. He needed to take the edge off and dull the pain. It didn’t matter what poison filled his belly. Jack Daniels or Wild Turkey. Any would do. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  In times of extreme stress, Russell bowed to the spirits. Deep down, he didn’t want to be their slave, but his will was weak, and he struggled to resist the urge. He planned to fight that bond, and break free. Whatever it took to get Sarah back, he was willing to work his hardest to make that happen.

  Russell stopped and took a moment to catch his breath. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion as he bent over. The palm of his hand pressed to the rigid surface of the tree he stood next to while the heel of his other hand jammed into the soft part just above his knee.

  Each step he had taken was laborious at best, and it wasn’t getting any better. He had been slogging through the dense verdure for what seemed like forever, but he hadn’t traveled too far.

  The plane wreck lingered in his head. It was difficult to comprehend and felt unreal. He’d survived the crash, but his best friend was dead.

  What the hell happened, anyway?

  It was a question that wouldn’t leave his thoughts. He tried to figure out the cause, but came up empty. A short in the engine? Possible. But that didn’t explain the aircraft’s loss of communication and the navigation going haywire beforehand.

  Russell rubbed his eyes, then blinked. A heavy sigh spewed from his lips as he skimmed over the foliage that surrounded him.

  The forest looked the same, regardless of where Russell went. He couldn’t tell if he was heading for civilization or further away into the unknown. That did little to calm his frayed nerves.

  Before moving on, Russell turned and leaned into the tree, then dug his hand into the pockets of his jeans. He pulled out the contents. There wasn’t much.

  A couple packs of peppermint gum, to help curb the urge for a drink, his cell phone, and a lighter that Tim had asked him to hold onto. Even though Russell also smoked at times, he felt it had only to be fair that he’d given Tim hell about his bad habit since he did the same for his drinking.

  They had each agreed to keep the other in check as much as possible, which proved to be futile in the end.

  The one thing that Russell missed the most was his silver flask. He had told himself to leave it, and that he was strong enough to go without. At that moment, alone and hurt in the woods, with his best friend dead, and no help in sight, he regretted his decision.

  The inside of Russell’s mouth felt arid. His gums were tacky to the touch. Although his body craved a stiff drink, he knew he needed some water to keep from getting dehydrated.

  Russell pulled a stick of gum from the pack and removed the foil. He shoved the gum into his mouth and chewed. The items clutched in his hands were secured back into his pockets as he plotted out his next move.

  Sweat and trickles of blood raced down the sides of his face. The sleeve of his tattered wind breaker swiped across his forehead as he looked over the lush environment.

  Birds squawked overhead.

  Animals rustled within the bushes around him.

  There wasn’t much of a path to follow. It didn’t look like people ventured this way often, if ever. Any grass stood unchallenged, and there weren’t any footprints within the foliage.

  It was a best guess scenario that faced him on which way to go. Standing around wasn’t going to get him home, or the medical attention that he knew he needed. Survive or die was the name of the game, and he had no choice but to play.

  Russell pushed away from the tree and stumbled down through the narrow opening that wound through a thicket of bushes.

  The terrain pitched at a steep angle. Rocks littered the soil and added a degree of difficulty to navigate it safely.

  The soles of his boots slipped over the surface of the rocks as Russell leaned back. He grunted and grimaced through the pain as his good arm pressed to the ground.

  Slow and steady, he maneuvered down the slope until he reached the bottom. His ankle gave and sent him tumbling the rest of the way.

  The bed of uneven earth and large, thick tree roots broke his fall. The side of his head bounced off the ground. His face contorted as he cussed under his breath.

  Russell lifted from the ground and shook his head. He rested on his knees while gripping his injured shoulder. Dirt clung to the sweat and splotches of blood that ran down from his hairline.

  The snapping of branches close by caught his attention. His eyes went wide, and his head swiveled as he searched for the source. It didn’t sound like a small animal. The noise was too loud for that. It had to be something larger. Perhaps a person?

  “Hello. Is anyone there?” His voice was raspy. He struggled to get his wobbly legs under him.

  No response was given, but the rustling remained. It climbed in volume with each second that passed. A cold chill washed over Russell as he turned in a circle, looking for the source. He couldn’t find what was lurking within the dense verdure, but he knew something was there.

  Panic set in.

  Naked fear took over.

  Russell’s heart punched his chest. The stinging prick of fright surged through his veins. He was being stalked by something, but couldn’t see what it was.

  A predator had no doubt gotten wind of his scent. He was an injured animal ripe for the picking.

  A low growl loomed from the bushes and snatched the voice from Russell’s throat. He gulped, then backed away. Snapshots of the animal’s solid, tawny color bled through the thicket. It sounded like a cat of some sort.

  Russell kept his gaze fixed on the bushes as he moved away. The puma stalked to the edge of the brush, then stopped shy of breaching the small clearing.

  The fronts of its large paws pressed into the ground as it lowered its head. It’s golden-yellow eyes honed in on Russell.

  Fight or flight. It was as simple as that.

  Russell had no qualms about his ability to defend himself, but he had never been faced with a predator that had sharp claws and teeth and hunger for fresh meat.

  The puma growled louder. Its body stayed close to the ground as it moved out from the bushes.

  Russell turned, then ran in the opposite direction. Pain stabbed his ankle as he forced his way through the vegetation. Branches snapped. The pointed ends punched his stomach and torso. His arms were up in front of him to shield his face as he fought to put as much distance between him and the wild ani
mal as possible.

  The puma sprinted after its meal. The footfalls of the large cat pounded close behind him, but Russell couldn’t lay eyes on the animal.

  Fear swallowed him whole, and kept his legs moving at a good clip. Pain was a byproduct of the horror that chased after him.

  Russell emerged from the thicket that opened up into a small plot of open land. Swaths of tall oak trees lined the periphery, among other rich greenery. He could hear what sounded like running water. A stream?

  He peered over his shoulder, and spotted the puma racing toward him. The cat’s gaze wouldn’t deviate from Russell. It was locked in and wasn’t going to stop until it overtook him.

  The swollen ankle grew more agitated. The pulsating made it hard to maintain a brisk pace. He couldn’t keep it going for much longer.

  The edge of the stream came into view. If he could just get across, then maybe he’d have a chance, and the large cat would discontinue its pursuit.

  The puma swatted his legs. Russell lost his balance and tumbled into the chilled water. His head dipped below the surface for a split second before emerging. Another big splash landed next to him as he paddled to the other side.

  Water spat from his mouth as he focused on the dry land. His one good arm propelled him forward as fast as it could.

  The tips of Russell’s fingers dug into the mud. He pulled with every ounce of strength he had left in his body. His legs kicked, splashing water in every direction.

  Soaked to the bone, his clothes clung to his battered frame. He climbed the small embankment and crested the edge. He spotted the wet, tawny fur of the puma as the creature splashed through the water toward him.

  Russell swung at the animal in a feeble attempt to keep the predator at bay. The puma went for his throat, but latched onto his forearm. Its sharp fangs punctured the skin.

  “Awww,” he cried out as the animal pulled and thrashed its head.

  Pain stole Russell’s voice as the animal dragged his body onto even ground. Intense pressure clamped over his arm like a vise. He tried to pull it free from the puma’s mouth, but it wouldn’t budge.