Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse Read online

  Russell bit his tongue, huffed, then faced forward, perturbed with the overzealous canine. Damn it, Max.

  The footfalls of the German shepherd grabbed Red Ballcap’s attention. A gasp fled his mouth. His boots rustled the leaves. He pulled the pistol away from the open space and trained it at the far side.

  Russell adjusted his hold on the branch, fingers wrapping tighter around the wood. He watched Red Ballcap’s every move, then glanced in the direction of the vehicles, checking for any prying eyes. Low lying branches and other shrubbery blocked a portion of his view. He ducked and peered under the branches.

  Red Ballcap moved around the outside of the bushes, searching for Max. He peered over his shoulder once, then looked straight ahead.

  Max growled.

  Russell moved from the safety of the tree and stalked the man. He lifted the branch, ready to swing. He gave another look at the road, but found no curious stares looking their way.

  The growling grew louder.

  Red Ballcap froze, his piece trained at the ground.

  Russell rushed him, snapping branches and rustling loose leaves. He lifted the branch over his head and swung.

  Red Ballcap turned. He jerked the pistol toward him as Russell hammered the side of his face with the branch.

  The wood broke.

  His head snapped back.

  The red ballcap flew from the top of his head.

  The pistol dropped from his hand, hit his dirty hiking boots, then laid in the bed of leaves.

  He staggered about, legs unsteady. Blood ran down the side of his head.

  Max rushed the dazed man and lunged at him with ears folded back and fangs bared. He tackled the battered man, knocking him to the ground. The German shepherd straddled the man’s leg, biting at his forearm.

  Red Ballcap laid on the ground, his movements slow and sluggish. He struggled to push Max away.

  Russell retrieved the Ruger from the ground. He slammed the grip into the side of the man’s head, knocking him out for good. He glanced at the road through the narrow opening between the low-lying branches and bushes. No one looked their way.

  “All right. That’s enough.” Russell grabbed Max by the collar and pulled him from the unconscious man. “Feel better now that you’ve been able to maul someone?”

  Max snapped at the mangled arm a second longer before falling back. He licked around his maw, stepped over the man’s legs, and offered one last growl.

  The duo toed the edge of the tree line. They hunkered down behind a wall of bushes. The dense foliage concealed them. Russell scanned the Silverado, but struggled to assess the situation with the truck blocking his view.

  He rubbed his chin, then scratched at the thick stubble growing on the side of his face. “Crap. All right. Here’s the deal. You’re going to have to keep quiet and not run off like that again. Clyde and Cathy’s lives depend on it. So do ours. You read me?”

  Max groaned, looked at Russell, then back to the truck.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  The pair shoved past the green bushes and ran from the tree line. They moved through the weeds, keeping low and heading for the driver’s side of the Silverado. Heated words and threats met their ears from the far side of the truck. They stayed below the bottoms of the windows–out of view of the duo on the other side.

  Max growled as the strangers spoke.

  Russell pressed his index finger to lips, shushed Max, then laid prone on his stomach. He peered under the cab of the truck. Clyde sat on his knees near the missing front tire. One of the men stood in front of him while the other hung back close to the bed with Cathy.

  “Billy, did you find that damn dog and the other guy who was with these two, yet?” the raspy voice asked in a shout. “We need to get moving.”

  “You’re not taking my truck,” Clyde said, his voice strained and filled with venomous spite. “You might as well load back up in the junk heap and move on.”

  “Here’s the thing. We would, but the engine is pretty much toast. Besides, you have this sweet new truck here, and we can’t pass up an opportunity to upgrade,” Raspy replied.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” Cathy shot back. “Just remember, karma’s a bitch.”

  “And who’s going to stop us? The police? Afraid not. They have bigger problems now with the total collapse of society across the country. Things were bad before the power went away. They’re going to get a whole lot worse before it’s over, sweetie,” Raspy said.

  “I’m not seeing Billy back there in those woods, Luke,” the other guy holding Cathy, said. “Something might’ve happened to him.”

  “He’s fine, Shane. Just stay cool. He’ll be back in a moment,” Luke replied. “He’s probably chasing down that dog and their pal. You know we cover our tracks. That’s the way it’s done.”

  Russell got to his knees. He looked at Max who paced the side of the truck. The German shepherd groaned and then looked at Russell, wanting to rush around to the other side of the vehicle.

  “Max. Stay,” Russell said in a stern whisper.

  “I think it’s safe to assume that your friend isn’t coming back,” Cathy said, cold and callous. “If you don’t want to end up like him, I suggest you leave while you can.”

  “That’s big talk coming from someone who doesn’t have a bucket to piss in, lady,” Luke said, his voice raising an octave. “Billy, come on. Get out here, now.”

  Russell peered over the bottom portion of the driver’s side window–keeping low and hidden.

  Luke stood near the front passenger side door. He looked at Cathy and Shane, then back to Clyde who was out of sight. Beads of sweat raced down from under the White Sox’s black cap he wore. He rubbed his square chin, then wiped away the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

  Shane stood close to Cathy, staring at Luke. He peered over his shoulder toward the Trailblazer, then through the back passenger side window of the Silverado.

  Russell ducked, then moved down the cab past the bed. He skirted the tailgate with Max at his side. The pair stalked the two men, toeing the edge of the tailgate on the far side.

  Max inched forward, past his handler.

  Russell held his hand out, stopping the canine. His fingers wrapped over the grip of the Ruger a bit tighter. He poked his head around the rear bumper of the truck.

  Shane and Luke had their backs to him. Clyde glanced at Russell through the narrow gap between the two men’s bodies. A line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. His right eye looked bruised–a purplish blue-black mixture. He remained calm and collected, not giving Russell away.

  “Where the hell is Billy?” Luke said, sighing and looking to the woods. He pointed at Shane, then flicked his finger toward the trees. “Go track him down, will you? We’re taking too long here.”

  Shane lowered his piece from Cathy’s side. “You got her?”

  “I think I can handle this,” Luke said, irritated.

  Cathy leaned against the truck, favoring her injured leg. She stared at Luke, eyeing the revolver he had trained at Clyde’s head.

  “I’ll be right back.” Shane turned and walked toward the tailgate.

  Max took off around the bed in a dead sprint.

  Shane flinched, then stopped cold. His eyes widened at the sudden appearance of the growling German shepherd. “What the–”

  Max snapped at the fearful man, baring his fangs and growling.

  Shane backed away. His feet tangled, and he fell to the ground. He squeezed the trigger before hitting, trying to strike the aggressive dog.

  The pistol barked a harsh report. Fire spat from the muzzle. The bullet went wide, missing Max by a good foot.

  “Get this dog away from me.” Shane kicked his legs from the flat of his back to keep Max away.

  Luke pointed the revolver with his finger inside the trigger guard, training it at Max.

  Russell rounded the corner of the bed with the Ruger fixed on Luke. “Dro
p it before I put you down.”

  Max snapped at Shane’s flailing legs. He skirted past his foot and grabbed the hand wielding the gun.

  Shane yelled, then wrenched his arm, but Max refused to let his hand go.

  Cathy stayed put, leaning against the cab of the Silverado.

  Clyde grabbed the tire iron from the ground and launched to his feet. He smashed the steel piece against the back of Luke’s skull. Luke’s legs buckled and his body went limp. He fell to the pavement, lying across the yellow line in the road.

  The revolver popped out of his hand and bounced further into the road.

  “Is everybody okay?” Russell asked, flanking Max with the Ruger trained at Shane.

  Clyde probed his busted lip with the tip of his finger, then shook his head. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

  “Max. Let him go and come here.” Cathy snapped her fingers.

  Max thrashed his head, then released the mangled meat of Shane’s hand. He bore his fangs at the whimpering man.

  Russell swooped in fast and pried the gun from Shane’s unsteady grasp. He towered over him, shoved the sole of his boot into his chest, then glanced over at Luke. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I think you might have split his skull open.”

  Clyde shrugged, then dropped the tire iron to the pavement. He rubbed his jaw and looked at Luke’s unconscious form. “Don’t know if I did or not. All things considered, he got what he deserved.”

  A truck flew by on the far side of the two-lane road at full tilt, and kept going without slowing.

  Max trotted over to Cathy, licked her hands, then stood between her and everyone else. She scratched the crown of his head, bent over, and gave him a kiss.

  “You all right?” she asked in a tender, soft-spoken voice.

  Max sat on his haunches, then tilted his head back, looking up at her. His tongue flicked at her face.

  “How’d they get the drop on you?” Russell asked, training the Ruger at Shane’s head.

  Clyde took a knee next to the missing wheel, grabbed the spare tire, and rolled it into place. “I was on the driver’s side of the truck, looking in the back seat for that tire iron when they rolled up. Cathy was helping me look for it. By the time we noticed them, it was too late.”

  “What should we do with them?” Cathy asked, petting Max under his chin.

  “Don’t kill me, please,” Shane whimpered through tear-filled eyes as he cradled his bloody hand. “I didn’t want to do this. It was Luke and Billy’s idea to chase you down. I told them to forget it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  “Easy to say that when you have a canon pointed at your face, and your life is on the line,” Clyde replied, setting the spare tire in place.

  Russell leaned forward, applying a bit more pressure to Shane’s chest. “I’m not going to kill you or your buddies, even though you deserve as much.”

  Shane struggled to breathe, gasping for air.

  Clyde grabbed the lug nuts and screwed them onto the ends of the bolts sticking through the wheel of the tire. “In about 10 minutes, we’ll be ready to roll out.”

  “I’ll take care of these two while you finish up,” Russell said, removing his boot from Shane’s chest.

  “Where’s the other guy?” Cathy asked, turning and looking over the bed of the truck.

  Russell pointed to the woods. “He’s back there. Knocked him out.”

  Shane rolled to his side, holding his hand against his body.

  “Come on. Get up.” Russell bent down and grabbed the blubbering man by the scruff of his coat, wrenching him off the pavement.

  Max growled, eyeing the bandit. He inched forward, revealing his fangs once more.

  Cathy held him close, then rubbed the side of his head. “It’s okay. Leave him be.”

  Russell escorted Shane around the bed of the Silverado, then past the driver’s side of the Trailblazer. They stopped near the driver’s side door, straddling the grass and pavement.

  “Listen. I am sorry for–”

  Russell slammed the Ruger against the back of Shane’s head before he could finish speaking. “Save it.”

  Shane crumpled. His knees hit first, then he fell forward onto his face.

  Russell looked to the woods, watching for Billy, but didn’t spot him within the dense green vegetation. He turned and walked back to the passenger side of the truck to retrieve Luke’s unconscious body.

  Clyde tightened the lug nuts, grunting some from the beating he’d received. He set the tire iron on the ground, then removed his ballcap. His hand wiped away the sweat brimming on his forehead.

  “There,” he said, standing up. “Good as new.”

  Russell stowed the Ruger in the waistband of his jeans, searched the interstate for any inbound vehicles, then grabbed Luke’s arm. The back of his head was wet with blood. His White Sox’s ballcap had blown across the road to the grass on the far side.

  Russell pressed his index and middle finger to Luke’s neck. He moved his fingers around his neck before finding a pulse. “Well, he’s not dead.”

  “Lucky him,” Clyde said, glancing at Luke for a second. “What are you doing with them?”

  “I’m putting them on the other side of their vehicle. By the time they come to, we’ll be long gone.” Russell grabbed Luke’s arms and dragged him toward the back of the Silverado.

  Clyde lowered the truck, then glanced at Cathy. “You can go ahead and get back in the truck.”

  Cathy stepped away from the back passenger side door, then opened it up.

  Russell dumped Luke’s body next to Shane’s, then towered over both men with his hands resting on his hips. He looked down the interstate, then turned toward the older model SUV that had seen better days.

  The driver’s side window had a thick film coating the glass, making it hard to see inside the vehicle. The window tint peeled away, offering small clear pockets to peek inside the cab.

  The tailgate to the Silverado dropped, then locked into place. Russell looked away from the drab looking interior to the bed of the truck.

  Clyde tossed the flattened tire into the bed, then slammed the tailgate closed. He turned and walked around the front of the Trailblazer, and looked down at the unconscious men.

  “Are you going to leave them there like that?” he asked.

  Russell dipped his chin. “I had planned on it.”

  Clyde leaned in close and whispered, “You know, if you wanted to plug all three of them, it wouldn’t bother me any. They deserve as much. When they come to, who knows what they might do next. You’d be doing the world a favor.”

  “True, but they’re taken care of for now. I don’t want to shoot unconscious people.” Russell glanced back at Clyde. “Besides, I’m not looking to just kill people just because. Our lives are no longer in danger. We’ll be long gone before they come to. We didn’t tell them where we were heading, so they won’t be able to track us down.”

  “All right.” Clyde shrugged, then took a step back. “Your call. Just a suggestion. I have no love lost for people like them. Not since my wife was killed by their type.”

  “I get it, but we don’t need to do that with them. They’re no longer a threat,” Russell said, a bit taken back by the coldness of Clyde’s suggestion.

  Clyde touched his busted lip, faced forward, then skirted the bumper of the SUV. “I hope the people who cross them next will be as fortunate as us.”

  Russell’s hand rested on the grip of the Ruger. He peered at the two men, then at the woods where Billy laid. He chewed his bottom lip and scratched the festering itch within the thick stubble growing around his chin. Russell understood why he wanted to snuff the thugs, but doing so in that moment didn’t feel right.

  “You coming?” Clyde asked, tossing the jack and other tools to the floorboard of the backseat on the driver’s side of the Silverado.

  “Yeah.” Russell removed his hand from the Ruger and made his way to the front passenger seat of the truck.

  Cathy sat in the backseat
with the window down and Max’s head resting in her lap. She had her eyes closed, head tilted back against the leather headrest. A deep breath escaped her lips.

  “Is the pain coming back?” Russell asked, studying her frown and scrunched nose.

  “It never left,” Cathy answered, cracking her eyes open. “It’s been tolerable, but I think the pills are wearing off. That and being dragged around by those goons did little to curb the discomfort. I’ll take some more once we get back on the move. How much further do we have until reaching Philly?”

  Russell opened the passenger side of the truck, glanced down the interstate in the direction they were heading, and said, “Maybe an hour or so, barring any more unforeseen hiccups.”

  Cathy nodded. “Good. The sooner I can get to Amber, the better. Seeing how chaotic things are in the smaller, rural areas doesn’t give me much hope for the larger cities. I hope I’m wrong and Philly isn’t a complete mess.”

  Russell patted the door, then said, “Amber’s going to be fine, and we’ll be there before you know it.”

  “Thanks, Cage.” Cathy cracked a warm smile through the discomfort.

  Clyde started the Silverado. The V8 engine thrummed to life, and the AC kicked on, blowing cool air from the vents.

  Russell scaled the side of the truck and settled into the leather captain’s chair. He pulled the Ruger and .38 Special from the waistband of his jeans and sat the firearms in the open space in the center console.

  “Where’d you get the Ruger at?” Clyde asked, staring at the pistol.

  “Red Ballcap. The magazine is pretty well stocked. Figured it would be good to have some additional firepower on us.” Russell grabbed his seat belt and latched the metal end into the buckle.

  “Nice. That should come in handy. My rifle doesn’t work too well in close quarters,” Clyde said, adjusting the vents. He peered over his shoulder at Cathy and Max, who rested in the back. “You good back there?”

  Cathy gave a thumbs up.

  “How are we doing on fuel?” Russell asked, leaning toward the center console and craning his neck.

  Clyde poked the plastic covering the gauges. “We’re sitting a little over a half a tank. We’ll reach Philly with no problem.”