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

by Derek Shupert

  Thomas retreated with Butch into the log building. The dog shook the water free of its coat in the entryway as his handler leaned the double-barrel shotgun against the wall.

  “That’s one hell of a downpour out there,” Thomas groused.

  His agitated tone reminded Russell of his grandfather who always sounded like he was pissed off and irritated at the world.

  Thomas slammed the door shut, then removed the coat he wore. Butch watched Russell and the others in the dark. His gaze focused on their every move—a sentry for the older man.

  Each step Thomas took looked unsteady, as if his legs weren’t cooperating. He’d pause, then lean against the wall. “Damn weather has the joints of my knees stiff as a board. Makes it hard to function.”

  Light from across the room grew. Cathy stood near a lantern that rested on top a small, wooden table. The soft-white glow illuminated a portion of the living space which was cluttered with copious amounts of furniture and knickknacks.

  “We really appreciate you letting us in,” Cathy said. “I wasn’t sure where else to go. I would’ve called ahead, but the phones aren’t working.”

  Thomas dismissed her words with a flick of his wrist. “No need to thank me, dear. I’m just sorry about pulling the double barrel out on you. Thought I had some trespassers trolling my property. I can’t stand that. Irritates the fire out of me.”

  He tracked past the front door to the dark cherry console table that was under the window. Simple grunts of discomfort fled his lips as he bent down to retrieve another lantern that was on the bottom shelf.

  Cathy removed her coat and folded it over her arm. A portion of her hair was wet. She ran her fingers through the damp strands, then flicked the water free of her hand.

  Russell shivered in the middle of the room, unable to stop the convulsing of his limbs. His hands rubbed up and down his arms, trying to warm them.

  “Mind if I make a fire, Thomas?” Cathy inquired.

  “Knock yourself out. Should be plenty of wood over there.”

  Thomas sat the old, reddish-brown lantern on top of the console table and turned it on, adding more light to the home. It looked like a kerosene lamp which had been repurposed in a way that kept it from having to be lit with a match.

  He set the lamp in the middle of the table, then turned toward Russell. “Best fifteen dollars I ever spent. Solar-powered lanterns repurposed from some old kerosene ones I had sitting out in my garage.”

  “That’s pretty ingenious,” Russell stuttered through chattering teeth. He extended his trembling hand out. “I’m Russell Cage, by the way. Your hospitality is appreciated, sir.”

  “Sir?” the old man belted. “Hot damn, Cathy. Did you hear that? Seems like you found a respectable man here. Thomas Kinkade. Nice to meet you, son.”

  Russell lowered his head.

  Cathy shook her head. “It’s not like that, Thomas. He’s just a friend I’m helping out.”

  Cathy eyed Russell and blushed. She cleared her throat, then looked away. He understood where she was coming from. Keep it short, sweet, and on point. Besides, he didn’t view Cathy that way, either.

  “Aw, hell. Friends or not, I’m just glad to see you hanging out with someone other than that four-legged pup you got over there.”

  Max was seated in front of the fireplace as Cathy piled wood on the hearth.

  Cathy pointed to the black dog that stood at Thomas’s side. “When did you get the dog? It’s a cane corso, right?”

  Thomas rubbed the top of the brute’s head. His fingers scratched behind the dog’s cropped ears. The dog licked at his fingers, then ran his large, pink tongue around the ridge of his snout.

  “Yeah. It is. I got Butch a few weeks back from a friend of mine. They’re great guard dogs. Protective and efficient at tracking. Figured it would be good to have an extra set of eyes and ears being so far out. I’m not getting any younger, that’s for damn sure. He trained Butch well.”

  Russell dipped his chin and looked at the stout dog, who was calm and at ease—though, Russell knew that could change within a blink if need be.

  “He is intimidating, that’s for sure,” Russell said while keeping his distance.

  Butch panted with his tongue hanging from his snout. He stood up and gave his coat another shake. Water slung from his fur in all directions.

  “He can be, but he’s a great dog.” Thomas looked at Russell. “Sorry again for siccing him on you. All I saw was a light outside in the rain and some dark figures. Spooked me a bit. Max is all right, isn’t he?”

  “He’s fine,” Cathy responded as she got the fire going. “That isn’t the worst scrap he’s ever been in.”

  Max groaned from the rug that sat in front of the fireplace.

  “Oh, good. He’s still my good boy,” Thomas said.

  Russell held up his hand. “I guess we kind of asked for it. I don’t blame you in the least. You’re way up here in the mountains during a storm at night, and you spy some people walking around outside of your house that you weren’t expecting. Hell, after what we’ve been through at her place, having the guard dogs seems like a must.”

  Thomas staggered around the furniture with Butch flanking him. The dog approached Max as the two sniffed each other. “What happened at your place? It doesn’t have to do with that fire that I saw a bit ago, does it? That orange glow would have been hard to miss.”

  Russell moved around the couch to the fireplace to get warm, and to dry off.

  Cathy poked at the logs as the old man took a seat in a wooden rocking chair across from her. “That’s actually why we’re here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SARAH

  Sleep with one eye open and a finger over the trigger.

  It was a simple phrase Sarah told herself while sitting on the chair in Rick’s apartment, just in case she nodded off.

  A few candles had been lit and placed around the dwelling. It added a warm glow to the otherwise sparse living space. Slouched in the brown leather rocking chair, Sarah fought the urge to drift off.

  The day’s events had taken their toll. She had been rung through the ringer with no end in sight. Her mind jumped through the numerous frantic thoughts that plagued her.

  Death.

  Chaos.

  Mandy’s whereabouts.

  How Russell was doing.

  She hoped he was all right, and that she’d be able to see him again soon. There were so many things she wanted to say. To tell him how she really felt. The thought of not being able to do so made her sad and regret how curt and cold she was to him when they last spoke. Given how things were, though, that seemed to be a stretch since she didn’t even know where he was.

  Rick was a sentry, standing guard at the window that looked over the street in front of the apartment building. He had been planted there for a while.

  Sarah couldn’t remember how long. It seemed irrelevant. The only time he had stepped away from the window was to get her some water, and whatever dry food he had in his pantry.

  She snacked on some junk food which her stomach appreciated. Chips, crackers, and some powered donuts. Not the most nutritious meal, but it was better than nothing.

  He glanced at her every so often with a stern and rigid gaze. Focus filled his face. He was on guard from the threats that loomed beyond his walls.

  The Glock rested in Sarah’s lap with her hand clutching the grip. She watched his every move. Trust was a valuable commodity for her, and it had to be earned. It wasn’t given away without thought now. Rick seemed like a nice enough person, but that could change without warning, and she had to be ready.

  “Have you gotten enough to eat?” Rick inquired while leaning against the narrow piece of wall between the two bay windows. “I’ve got more food in there. I had just gone to the store before all this happened.”

  Her stomach was content at the moment. She didn’t see the need to gorge herself on food just because. Stress eating was never a good thing.

  She s
hook her head, then rubbed her hand over her long, tired face. “I’m good, for now. Thank you.”

  Rick scratched at the stubble on the side of his chin. “If you get hungry later, you can help yourself. I don’t mind.”

  Noises from the hallway drifted into the tiny apartment. Raised voices bickered. Doors slammed. Heavy footsteps tromped along the floors above and down the hall.

  People were on edge—scared from whatever had happened. The tumult that called out from all around confirmed that.

  Sarah nodded toward the hallway where some of the rantings were taking place. “Your neighbors seem nice and friendly. Are they always so vocal?”

  Rick turned toward the door that led into his apartment, then rolled his eyes. “Some, yes. There are a few couples here who act like dogs and cats that are forced to coexist. I think the others are just worried. They’re all good people here. The ones I know, anyway. It just doesn’t help when you have low lifes and thugs running rampant on the streets and causing problems for everyone. It just adds more stress to an already stressful situation.”

  She glanced at the door and listened to the muffled yells and arguments that reminded her of spats with Russell. They’d had some epic ones for sure.

  “Do you know what happened, by chance?” she posed. “What caused the blackout?”

  He shrugged, then folded his arms across his chest. “No clue. I’ve heard numerous rumors from my neighbors who think they know what happened, but I’m doubtful.”

  “Oh? Such as?” Her brow raised in curiosity.

  “I’ll spare you the details, but the most outlandish theory swimming around this place is, I can’t even believe I’m about to say this, aliens.”

  “Aliens, huh?” Sarah said. “I’ve heard people say something about an EMP attack or a similar event, but nothing about aliens. I’m kind of skeptical about that.”

  “What? You don’t believe in little green men arriving in spaceships and all that nonsense?” His tone was sarcastic at best.

  “Not really. I rank that up with sightings of bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.”

  Rick agreed with a nod of his head. “Yeah. I’d rank that up there with those as well. Seems fitting.”

  “I did hear a few people think it was some sort of a nuclear attack or a bomb that took out the power grid. The North Koreans seem to get thrown to the front of the line. The usual suspects, I guess. That or ISIS, I suppose.”

  A bright light shone in through the window where Rick was standing. He leaned toward the glass, and craned his neck, searching for the source.

  A loud thumping sound approached the complex. It grew louder the closer it got.

  “Well, it definitely wasn’t an EMP. I can tell you that much,” Rick said.

  “EMP?” Sarah parroted. “I’m not following.”

  Rick didn’t take his eyes off the window as he hunted for what sounded like a helicopter buzzing around the city.

  “Electromagnetic Pulse,” he clarified. “That will destroy pretty much anything that’s electronic. Cars, aircraft, your phone, appliances, etc. Since that chopper is flying over the city, an EMP blast is out of the question. But something similar had to happen for everything to just go out like it did.”

  Sarah got off the couch. It was making her sluggish and sleepy. She needed the rest, but didn’t feel comfortable doing so around Rick.

  She skirted some of the boxes he had stacked throughout his living room. It was hard to tell if he had just moved in or was too lazy to unpack his belongings.

  He crouched, then pointed to the black sky overhead. “I think it went over us and kept going.”

  The noise from the chopper had dissipated some, but she could still hear it. Sarah pressed the side of her face to the window and looked for the spotlight. “I can’t see it.”

  Rick turned toward the entryway of his abode. “Come on. We might be able to get a better feel of everything from the roof.”

  “Is it even unlocked?”

  He shrugged. “If it isn’t, then we’ll unlock it. I’d like to get a sense of what the rest of the city looks like.”

  Sarah didn’t need to go to the roof to know that things were bad. The panic and straight fear of the unknown had latched onto the populous like a parasite.

  However, getting the lay of the land from an elevated position would allow her to gauge how Boston was doing overall.

  “Lead the way.”

  Rick pulled the pistol from his waistband and chambered a round. It looked like her Glock 43, only bigger.

  “Do you think we’ll have a problem out there where we’ll need our guns,” she inquired as she flanked him to the door of his apartment.

  “I don’t think so, but I’d rather play on the side of caution than not bring my Glock with me. For the most part, it goes where I go.” He stopped at a waist-high table next to the door. A flashlight sat face down on the surface. He secured the Glock in his waistband and grabbed the flashlight.

  Sarah wasn’t comfortable enough to do the same. She felt more secure having the weapon at the ready.

  “Are you a cop or something?” Sarah asked.

  The notion pulled a snicker from Rick as he shook his head. “Lord, no. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem like you’re standing guard over the building, is all. Made me think you were a cop or some kind of law enforcement officer,” Sarah said.

  Rick thumbed the switch to the light. A strident beam of white sprung from the lens as he turned to face her. “I did run a PI firm for a spell before it went belly up and took most of my savings with it. That’s part of the reason why I live in this spacious paradise. I was downstairs to keep an eye on things because the last thing anyone wants is to have a bunch of opportunistic hoodlums get into the building and cause a bunch of problems. The police are stretched thin, and any sort of robberies or other violent crimes aren’t going to be responded to in a timely manner, if at all. Our best defense against any threats is going to be ourselves until order is restored.”

  Sarah glanced over to the window across the room, thinking of all the horrors and violent acts she had witnessed and been a part of.

  “Yeah. The lowest of humanity has certainly crawled out of the gutters. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with them.” She peered down to her Glock, thinking of the angry, homely man she was forced shoot. That incident haunted her thoughts, and probably would for the rest of her life. It also reaffirmed why she no longer would cower under the thumb of criminals. “I’ve had to do things I thought I’d never have to do. At the end of the day, though, one must do what is necessary to protect oneself, and others.”

  Rick grabbed the brass doorknob of the apartment door, then looked upon Sarah’s stern and focused face. “I agree. People shouldn’t have to live in fear of being preyed on. I think if more people had that same mentality, this world wouldn’t be filled with so many senseless acts of violence.”

  Sarah agreed with a tilt of her head. Before the home invasion, she didn’t give much thought to owning a gun. She would’ve protected her family as she could, but resorting to taking a person’s life never factored into the equation.

  He opened the door. The boisterous arguing flooded into his dwelling. “What’s going down right now around the city with all of the rioting and looting is just par for the course. There are so many people out of work because the economy is trash. The price of food has soared where most struggle to feed their families a decent meal. Tensions have been high for a while now. To me, that’s why things escalated so fast. You combine all of the frustration and desperation with the power grid crashing like it did and you have the perfect storm.”

  That was one fact Sarah understood and had come to grips with. It was the name of the game, now. One that she was forced to play.

  Rick leaned into the blinding darkness of the hallway. The light washed over the banister before his apartment. He checked down either side of the long stretch of hallway for added measure.

 
; “All right. Come on.” The wood floor creaked under his weight as he stepped out into the hallway. Sarah flanked him as she pulled his door closed. He headed toward the staircase. The floor creaked with every step they took.

  A door opened to an apartment near the landing. Lingering within the shadows of the pitch-black apartment stood the silhouette of figure.

  “Who’s out there skulking about in the darkness like some damn thief?” a woman groused through strained breath. Her voice was raspy and full of agitation.

  Rick stopped, then turned toward the space. The light illuminated a wrinkled, boney hand that grabbed the edge of the door. An elderly woman stood at the ready with a baseball bat clutched in her other hand.

  “It’s just me, Mrs. Culver.”

  She squinted at Rick, then Sarah. Her thin lips pursed as she struggled to lift the bat in the air. “Lord. What are you doing out here lurking in the dark like that? I could’ve hurt you and your little girlfriend here.”

  Rick opened his mouth, but Sarah beat him to it. “I’m not his girlfriend. We just met, and he was kind enough to help me out.”

  Sarah glanced to Rick, who diverted his gaze in embarrassment.

  Mrs. Culver lowered the bat which wasn’t too far off the ground. “Well, you better watch out for this one. He’s a charmer for sure.”

  Rick cleared his throat. “We’re heading up to the roof of the building to see if we can get a better view of the city. Like I told you before, just stay in your apartment and keep the door locked. I’ll be by later to check on you. If you need anything, pound the wall with your cane, and I’ll come over.”

  Mrs. Culver looked at Rick, then over to Sarah. A sly smirk slit across her face as she winked at him. “You two kids enjoy yourself on the roof.”

  “Thanks. Goodnight, Mrs. Culver.”

  The aged woman drifted back into the blackness of her apartment as Rick shut the door. The click of the deadbolt engaging played from the space.

  Rick rolled his eyes, then rubbed his hand over his face. Sarah didn’t need the light to see how red and flustered he was. “I’m sorry about that. She isn’t all there and forgets things easily. Plus, she enjoys speaking her mind and embarrassing me.”