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

by Derek Shupert

  He couldn’t spot what made the noise from the gunk caked on the windows. Russell rubbed his elbow over the glass, trying to clean off a portion to allow him to see inside the building. He tilted his head to the side, dipped his chin, then grabbed the doorknob.

  Russell twisted it clockwise. A branch snapped and pulled him away from the window. He stood up straight, looking for Max or Cathy.

  The door flew outward without warning and smashed into Russell’s face. The blow knocked him off balance, and he stumbled backward. His hand left the doorknob as a large, shadowy figure stomped out of the building.

  “What the-”

  The man punched Russell in the face. He hit the ground with a dense thud. His eyes watered from the blow, distorting his vision.

  Footfalls through the grass filled Russell’s ears. The assailant’s fingers grabbed handfuls of his flannel shirt and jerked him off the ground.

  Russell swung at the brute. He blinked, trying to erase the tears that hindered his vision.

  The report of a gunshot fired off close to the dueling men. Max barked and raced down the driveway as Cathy ran toward the barn with her rifle shouldered.

  The man paused, then glanced toward Cathy. He released his hold from Russell’s shirt and fled into the woods.

  Max rounded the corner of the barn and stopped just shy of Russell. He licked his face. The crunching of leaves and snapping of branches perked his ears.

  “Max, stay,” Cathy commanded as he skirted around Russell. She came to a grinding halt as Russell laid prone on his back. “Are you ok?”

  Russell groaned as trickles of blood ran from his nose. He looked to the wooden area where the attacker had fled. “Yeah. I’m good. Wasn’t expecting that, though.”

  Cathy took a knee with Max by her side. She swept the tree line with her rifle. Her face twisted in anger, and her brow furrowed.

  Her full, pink lips grew taut as she huffed. “Damn trespassers.”

  Max groaned and whined. He inched forward with his gaze fixed in the direction the man fled.

  Cathy snapped her fingers. “Max, stay.”

  Russell picked himself off the ground. Dirt and grass clung to his clothes. He brushed away the earth as Cathy stood up. “Do you know who that was?”

  Cathy lowered her rifle. The buttstock rested against her hip with the barrel trained at the semi-cloudy sky. She sighed, then rubbed her hand over her face in frustration. “Yeah. I have a good idea of who it was. One of Marcus Wright’s backwoods friends.”

  Max remained by her side, poised to strike and defend. His ears twitched with any subtle noise that loomed from the dense woods. His head shifted from side to side.

  Russell turned and pointed at the open door of the barn. “Is that where you keep your car? Whoever attacked me was in their doing something. Not sure if they were messing with it or not, though.”

  Cathy sighed again, then growled under her breath as she slung the rifle over her shoulder. She stomped past Russell and stormed inside the building. “Bastards. They have been hounding me for my property for as long as I can remember. Not so much for the house, but more for the land. They’ve tried bribing me to sign over my deed. When that didn’t work, they resorted to more dubious tactics like what you just saw. Coming on my property and messing with stuff. Scare tactics to make me leave. It’s ramped up since my husband passed. I’ve put in complaints with the sheriff’s office, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped it. Not that the sheriff would take it serious or anything since they’re all buddies.”

  Russell followed Cathy into the building and stood inside the doorway. It was damp and dark. A lone window on the far wall was the only source of light.

  In the middle of the structure was an older model Jeep. The dark-green car had mud caked to its sides. Clumps of dirt and grass hung from the undercarriage. Four large off-road tires had the beast jacked up off the ground.

  “Why would they want just the land, and not the house and everything else?”

  Cathy milled about the space. She skimmed over the shelves of tools and other items. Max pushed his way past Russell. He sniffed the ground around the tires of the Jeep, then moved to the far side.

  “Marcus is pissed that we got this land. Said we snatched it out from under him. He complained and moaned that his family had ownership rights to it, but he could never prove it. We went to court and he lost. Needless to say, he’s a sore loser and hasn’t moved on.” Cathy skirted the front of the Jeep and stopped. “Would you mind popping the hood?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Russell walked to the driver’s side of the vehicle and opened the door. He reached under the dash and popped the hood. “If they’re causing so many problems for you, why not sell it to them and be done with it. Doesn’t seem worth the headache.”

  Cathy lifted the cover as Russell moved to the front of the Jeep. “Because. I don’t take kindly to being threatened and pushed around by anyone. I’m not some dainty, helpless female, and I will not be bullied out of my home.”

  She stood on the tips of her toes and scanned over the engine. There wasn’t much light, which made it difficult to make anything out.

  “I’ve got my phone with me. It’s got a decent flashlight on it.”

  Cathy dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. “Thanks, but I got it covered.”

  She retrieved a small flashlight from the shelf of a metal rack near her. She thumbed the switch and waved the blinding light over the engine compartment.

  Max brushed against her leg, then mine. He panted as he rested on his haunches while facing the opened door to the building—a sentry on watch.

  “Do you think they messed with the Jeep?” Russell inquired.

  Cathy shrugged. Her hand traced over the cables as she skimmed over the greasy parts. “Don’t know. Wouldn’t put it past them, though. The more time that goes by, the bolder they seem to get. I’m leaving tomorrow and need this tin can operational.”

  Russell looked away and scanned over the aged workbench against the wall next to him. The top was covered with various engine parts and liquids. Brake fluid, oil, and windshield wiper fluid rounded out the assortment.

  “So, you do all of the upkeep and maintenance on the Jeep?”

  Cathy nodded, then stepped back from the engine. “Yeah. The nearest garage is in Luray, which isn’t too close. Besides, I’ve learned to rely on myself. Can’t live in such a remote place without being able to take care of such things. Watch your hands.”

  Russell moved away as Cathy slammed the hood down. She wiped the grime and dirt from her palms on her jeans.

  “Is it good to go?” Russell asked as she walked by him.

  Cathy jerked open the driver’s side door, then scaled the side of the beast. She leaned back in the seat and pulled out a set of keys. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  She slipped the key into the ignition, then pumped the gas. The engine grumbled at first, but then smoothed out. The smell of exhaust filled the building in a blink, causing Russell to cough on the fumes.

  The Jeep idled free of any issues which made Cathy breathe a sigh of relief. She revved the engine which responded without hesitation.

  Cathy peered down to Max and Russell, then gave a thumbs up. She killed the engine and removed the key. She hopped down from the Jeep, and slammed the door shut.

  “Looks like we’re good. It doesn’t appear that they did anything to the engine. They may have stopped when they heard you and Max.”

  That was good news, and just what Russell wanted to hear. She had a working vehicle, and he needed a way to get back to Boston. Since they were heading in the same direction, Russell figured they could team up and help each other out.

  He cleared his throat as Cathy shoved the keys back into the pocket of her jeans. She brushed the strands of loose hair away from her sweaty face, then placed her hands on her hips.

  “Since you’re heading north, would you mind if I tagged along with you and Max?”

  Cathy stared at Russell
for a moment. She peered down to Max who was by his side. He looked up at her, waiting for orders. “Yeah. I can take you as far as Philly. After that, you’ll have to find another way to Boston.”

  Russell nodded. “Sounds good.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SARAH

  The passengers had all but scattered, setting off into a city that had been ravaged by some sort of major event. There was no law and order, just random acts of violence and destruction that swallowed the crumbling society.

  Sarah couldn’t believe the tumult before her. Buildings were ransacked. TVs and other valuables were hauled off through the busted windows by looters. Hordes of people scurried away like rodents with their spoils.

  The few cops who could be seen struggled to wrangle the deviants who took advantage of the chaos. They were outnumbered and overwhelmed by the mass influx of vandals who sought to exploit the strained police force.

  Sarah pulled her shirt down over the Glock she had secured in her waistband, fearing that some unsavory thug might try to snatch it. Her gaze shifted to the frantic people who darted past her. Their faces were thick with terror and uncertainty. She grabbed the strap of her purse a hair tighter and wormed her way through the crowd.

  Copley Place was her destination, although, she wasn’t sure if her friend, Mandy, would still be there considering what had transpired. She hated being cut off from her friends and family while the world around her fell apart.

  The intersection up ahead swarmed with parked cars. Horns blared as people screamed and yelled at one another from the interiors of the vehicles. They jockeyed for position, trying to worm their way through the chaos. Most of the vehicles sat abandoned, creating a larger problem for those who remained with their rides.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a woman yelled, and waved from the corner of the building Sarah was approaching. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

  Sarah approached with caution. The oversized purse she carried was pressed to her chest as her gaze lurked on the sea of parked cars and scrambling people.

  “I have no clue. Me and a bunch of other folks were trapped in the subway tunnel when it lost power. We got out a bit ago on our own. Help never arrived.” A group of people rushed past Sarah and the woman. They bumped into the two women and continued on their way at a brisk pace. “Were we bombed or something? The ground shook. It felt like an explosion went off.”

  The woman shrugged as she leaned into the brick wall of the building they were huddled against. “I don’t know about any bombs, but there were two airliners that crashed. One went down a few blocks to the east. The other further south. Craziest thing I’d ever seen. They collided in mid-air and the wreckage rained down over the city. There was a big fireball from the point of impact. Not sure if the fire department was able to make it over there with all of the traffic and other fires going.”

  Sarah’s face scrunched in shock. Tiny explosions could be heard in the distance. She turned on her heels and looked to the east. Black smoke lifted over the sprawling buildings and filled the air. The explosions could’ve been what she smelled when first exiting the emergency stairwell from the subway tunnel.

  “How in the world would two large airliners just crash into one another?” Sarah posed. “Don’t they have radar or something similar to let them know where other aircrafts are in the sky?”

  “No clue,” the woman retorted. “I just know what I saw and heard. It feels almost biblical.”

  Gunfire rang out down the street. Multiple shots echoed throughout the canyon of buildings. The woman flinched, then yelped. She lowered her head and cradled her belongings.

  Sarah craned her neck, searching for the source of the gunfire. It was hard to pinpoint with all of the chaos around them.

  People screamed, and raced down the bustling street in droves, but she couldn’t spot what had them spooked and running scared.

  “We need to get out of here,” Sarah said. “It’s a damn war-”

  A tall man dressed in ratty jeans and a tattered, black hoodie that concealed most of his face, grabbed the woman’s bag.

  “Hey,” she cried out in protest.

  The man jerked the straps of the purse, fighting to rip it free of her grasp. He grunted and growled while shooting Sarah an angered expression from the depths of the cloth covering his head.

  His face was sullen with a black, wiry beard. An ungodly stench radiated from the rags draped over his rail-thin frame.

  “Let her stuff go, you piece of shit,” Sarah barked as she reached for his arm.

  The man pulled the bag away from the woman and pushed her back to the wall. He turned toward Sarah and snarled. He smacked her with the back of his hand, knocking her flat on her ass.

  Pain lanced through Sarah’s jaw, then spread through the rest of her face. She hadn’t been struck in such a manner before. Shock turned to anger. Her brow furrowed as she rubbed her cheek. That feeling of being helpless and threatened by an opposing force made her blood boil.

  The attacker grabbed Sarah’s purse and slipped it off her shoulder. She reached for the straps, and fought to keep it from him, but it was ripped from her grasp. He back-peddled down the sidewalk, then turned about and ran away. The woman raced after him, screaming at the thug who had just robbed her and Sarah of their valuables.

  “Help. Anybody, help.”

  Those who were within earshot turned a blind eye and kept to themselves.

  Sarah pulled herself off the sidewalk and ran after both. Her head throbbed with every step she took, but she pushed on. Tears distorted her vision enough to hinder her being able to keep a close eye on the thug.

  She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to wipe away the wetness that coated them.

  He ran at a good clip, shoving his way through the people that stood in his way.

  The woman stayed a few paces back. Her hands waved in the air as she screamed obscenities at the thief. No police were in sight. If they had been, would they have helped?

  Sarah figured given the state of unrest and the decline of civility among the populous, the odds of obtaining any help from the authorities was going to be a long shot.

  The thief cut to the right and vanished down the alley next to Frank’s Sandwich Shop. The woman’s golden-brown hair bounced from side to side as she trampled the concrete. She rounded the corner at full speed as Sarah fought to close the gap. The further away the thief got, the less likely she’d be able to get her ID and other belongings back.

  An older man raised his hand in the air next to the sandwich shop. “Ma’am, do you know—”

  Sarah brushed past him without breaking her stride. She hugged the corner of the brick building and darted down the alleyway in a dead heat. She stomped through puddles of water and skirted around dumped over trash cans. Sarah didn’t see the thug, or the distraught woman for that matter, but she could hear the woman’s pleas for help.

  A loud screech echoed down the alleyway. The woman stumbled out from behind a dark-green dumpster while cradling her stomach. Blood soaked the front of her tan sweater. Her face twisted in a look of shock as she dropped to her knees.

  The vile degenerate emerged from the side of the large steel container with their bags in one hand and a knife in the other.

  Tears streamed down the woman’s cheeks. The black mascara she wore left dark patches under both eyes with long, snaking lines that slithered down to her chin.

  Sarah reached for her Glock and pulled it free of her waistband. Anger swelled inside her stomach at the sickening scene. She couldn’t believe what the low-life had done.

  The man in the black hoody scurried away. Sarah’s arm bounced all over as she struggled to get the fleeing thug in her sights. She had never fired the Glock while on the run, and didn’t want to waste the ammo or run the risk of hitting the injured woman by accident.

  The woman dumped over onto her side while clutching her stomach. Her large eyes shined with fright as Sarah stopped and assessed the w
ound. Tears ran down the sides of the scared woman’s face. Her shaking hands palmed the gash in her gut, trying to stay the flow of blood that pumped from her body.

  “Holy Christ,” Sarah muttered while staring at the thick, sanguine fluid. She was unsure of what to do. The woman shook as if chilled to the marrow. “Help. Can anybody help.”

  Sarah glanced to the street, but found no help. Any people who darted past the passageway didn’t offer a curious gaze their way.

  The woman removed one of her hands and grabbed Sarah’s arm. Blood smeared over the fabric of her clothes. She mumbled incoherent nonsense through quivering lips.

  Flashbacks of the night Jess had been stabbed by the home intruder filled her gaze. The helplessness of losing her baby girl stoked the fires of regret and rage within her core as she peered at the dying woman.

  The discord of steel trash cans crashing and rolling across the alley echoed through the tight corridor. Sarah’s gaze flitted away from the woman, and spotted the man in the black hoody picking up the contents from the bags he had dropped. He was manic and kept peering over his shoulder in her direction.

  The woman’s breathing was shallow.

  The filthy water under her body became dark and rich with blood.

  Sarah laid the woman down, then looked to the man who scooped up the remaining items from the ground. She had grown tired of being a victim and was going to handle the low-life herself, one way or another.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  RUSSELL

  The light was dying.

  The remainder of the day in the Blue Ridge Mountains had been uneventful. Cathy spent her time packing up her belongings while Max stood watch at the screen door like a sentry. He laid on his stomach with his gaze scanning the nearby woods for any movement. His ears twitched as short growls loomed from his snout.

  Russell sat at the table with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. Steam from the rich, black brew filled his nose. He took a sip, then glanced out of the window in the kitchen.