Survive The Fall | Book 3 | Dark Roads, page 1
part #3 of Survive The Fall Series
Copyright
Dark Roads
Copyright © 2020 by Derek Shupert
Cover design by Derek Shupert
Cover art by Covers by Christian
Cover Copyright © 2020 by Derek Shupert
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For information contact :
Derek Shupert
www.derekshupert.com
First Edition
Contents
Also by Derek Shupert
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Enjoy the book? Make your voice heard…
Also by Derek Shupert
About the Author
Also By Derek Shupert
SURVIVE THE FALL SERIES :
POWERLESS WORLD
MADNESS RISING
DARK ROADS
THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES :
DEAD STATE : CATALYST (PREQUEL)
DEAD STATE : FALLOUT
DEAD STATE : SURVIVAL ROAD
DEAD STATE : EXECUTIONER
DEAD STATE : IMMUNE
DEAD STATE : EVOLVED
THE COMPLETE DEAD STATE SERIES BOX SET
THE COMPLETE AFFLICTED SERIES :
GENESIS (PREQUEL)
PATIENT ZERO
RIPTIDE
DEAD RECKONING
THE HUNTRESS BANE SERIES :
THE HUNTRESS BANE (SHORT STORY)
TAINTED HUNTER
CRIMSON THIRST
THE COMPLETE BALLISTIC MECH SERIES :
DIVISION
INFERNO
EXTINCTION
PAYBACK
Stay up on the latest news!
For updates about new releases, special promotions, and the latest insider information, visit the author’s website. Head there now and get your FREE copy of Survive the End.
Note: (I loathe spam with a deep dark passion and promise to never spam you.)
www.derekshupert.com
Social Media Links
Let’s connect! You can follow Derek Shupert on Amazon, Facebook , Twitter, Instagram, and BookBub.
I also created a fun Facebook group, The Official Derek Shupert Fan Club, where readers can come and interact with me on a more personal level. Ask me questions and learn more about my crazy world. Stop by and join in on the fun!
CHAPTER ONE
SARAH
Sarah stood on the pier in Boston’s harbor, facing the masked man that rescued her from the Irish mob who looked to kidnap her.
He reached for Sarah, grabbing her forearm with a firm grip. The white ghost skull imprinted on the face of the black fabric made him look menacing–intimidating. “You need to come with me now, Sarah, while there’s still time.”
Sarah wrenched her arm from his hand, then clipped his jaw with her balled fist. Even though he saved her from the Irish mob, he had no place to grab her in such a way. “Like hell I am, Spencer. You might be wearing that mask, but your voice doesn’t lie.”
The glancing blow knocked him back on his heels. The gun lowered and trained at her side. He shook his head, rubbed his jaw, then cut his narrowed eyes up to her.
“I don’t want to harm you, Sarah. I love you,” he said, training his piece at her once more. “But I’ll do whatever is needed to keep you safe, even if you can’t see it. Now let’s go before–”
A muffled report of gunfire sounded from the warehouse next to them.
Sarah ducked, then looked to the open door of the large building built on the pier in Boston’s harbor.
He peered over his shoulder–checking the side entrance for any threats.
Sarah glanced down at Samuel Kinnerk’s pistol, her former captor. The Irish mob boss had been shot by Spencer who stood in disguise before her.
She inched forward, reaching for the weapon.
He doubled down on her. “Please, don’t do that, my love.”
Sarah froze with her arm extended toward the weapon. “Stop saying that. I’m not your love or anything else, you whack job.”
“We’re meant to be together, and one day, you will accept that reality. Now let’s–”
A rush of loud, angry voices echoed through the open door of the warehouse.
Spencer shifted his attention to the growing clamor of shouting and footfalls that sounded from the warehouse–drawing closer to their position. “No, no, no.”
Sarah dropped to the wooden planks in a blink and reached for Samuel’s pistol. She grabbed the sidearm and rolled to her side.
Spencer spun on the heels of his boots and fired at two of Kinnerk’s men who materialized from the warehouse. One went down with a shot to the head–crumbling to the pier, lifeless.
Sarah scrambled to her feet as Spencer and the lone surviving henchman dueled. She kept low and flinched from each gunshot. Sarah peered over her shoulder, catching brief flashes of muzzle fire.
The pistol held firm in her hand. Sarah gathered her footing and found cover behind a pile of weathered and deteriorating pallets. She craned her neck around the edge of the splintered wood and watched the shootout.
Spencer fired at a large red-bearded man until his pistol ran dry. He ejected the spent magazine and slapped in a fresh mag in one fluid motion. He continued firing at the henchman concealed behind a crate to the side of the entrance.
Sarah skimmed over the pier in the opposite direction, finding more stacks of pallets, crates, and other junk that lined the outside of the building. If she kept low and moved quick, she might be able to slip away.
Indecision racked her, though. Mandy, her best friend, was trapped in the middle of the hailstorm of gunfire that both men shelled out. Sarah thought she was alive, but couldn’t tell through the chaos.
Damn it.
Spencer took two direct hits to the chest that sent him stumbling backward. He fell flat on his ass, then onto his back. He laid motionless on the pier–showing no signs of life.
Sarah searched for the last remaining threat. She spotted movement within the crates. Red poked his head out from around the corner, then stood up. He ejected his magazine and dug his hand into his back pants pocket.
Sarah leaned away from the pallets a hair more and stared in the direction of Philip, Samuel’s large goon who draped over Mandy’s body.
The gun.
Sarah squeezed the grip of Samuel’s pistol a hair tighter. She took two quick breaths, then stepped away from her cover.
Red turned her way and aimed his gun.
Sarah squeezed the trigger.
Samuel’s piece clicked empty.
Red opened fire, sending Sarah reeling for cover. Wood splintered with each round that punched the fragile, decaying timber.
“Come out, Mrs. Cage,” Red said, in his thick Irish accent. “You have no place to go.”
Sarah toed the edge of the battered boards, watching Red head her way.
A single shot fired from Spencer, prone on his back.
The bullet struck Red in the ribs and sent him scurrying for cover.
Spencer turned his head, then looked her way. He sat up from the pier with his piece trained at the open doorway. “Sarah.”
Red popped off another round that skimmed past Spencer’s ghost mask.
He flinched, ducked, then returned fire.
Sarah didn’t want to leave Mandy behind, but with an empty gun and armed threats before her, she had no choice but to flea while she could.
She bolted from the pallets in a fit of grief and rage.
Spencer got to his feet–firing as he stood and backed away.
How did he survive that? Is he wearing a bullet-proof vest or something? Sarah thought.
Her feet hammered the pier. She ran as hard and fast as her legs would take her, not daring to look back.
The gunfire lessened the farther she drifted from the battle. She kept the pistol trained ahead, a deterrent to those who stood in her way, and searched for any incoming threats.
Sarah neared the edge of the warehouse. Both hands held the grip taut. She snaked along the stacks of boxes and crates. She toed the blind corner and scoped out the area.
Three SUV’s sat parked at the end of the warehouse. Their doors hung wide open, but she didn’t spot any movement in or around the vehicles. She looked to the other end of the warehouse, and found an armed man with his back to her.
He turned and glanced her way, then leaned back on the heels of his black boots.
She caught a glimpse of the rifle clutched in his gloved hands.
Sarah retreated back behind the cover of the warehouse. She deflated against the steel siding of the building. Her head dangled toward the weathered wooden planks. She wiped the sweat from across her brow, then flicked her hand. Her mind raced, making it hard to focus on escaping.
Come on. Come on, think.
She took in a deep breath, ventured another look, and found the armed man absent from his post.
Sarah crouched, then ran from the cover of the building to the SUV closest to her. Raised voices loomed from the far side of the warehouse. She skirted the open driver’s side door and down the length of the vehicle, stopping at the rear.
The men drew closer to the SUV. Their muttered, angry voices grew louder.
“Where is Samuel Kinnerk?” one of the men asked. His deep, baritone voice boomed like angry thunder and filled with rage. Sarah shuddered. “I want him found and brought to me, now. Anyone else you can silence, but Kinnerk and the two women are to be left unharmed.”
The report of gunfire echoed in the dismal gray sky, then ebbed. She slipped around the bumper, turned, then peered down the long stretch of pier that led to the back entrance of the warehouse.
Spencer vanished from sight. Kinnerk’s men had disappeared as well.
Where is he? Sarah thought, hoping he might’ve caught a bullet that took him down and given her one less problem to contend with.
Two men, dressed in black tactical garb, hustled toward the corner of the warehouse with rifles shouldered. They paused for a moment, checking the blind corner for any threats, then slipped around the back of the building, and moved down the pier side by side.
Sarah watched the men sweeping the junk piled alongside the exterior of the warehouse. Their attention was focused ahead of them and not on the empty SUV’s.
She turned toward the street that connected to the dock–finding it clear of any armed men. A row of buildings sat on the other side of the road. She could make it if she ran fast enough.
Sarah stood from her crouched position, then peered through the rear window of the SUV.
A figure stood near the front of the vehicle just past the open passenger side door. A portion of the SUV concealed his face, leaving only the black tactical gear and gloves he wore visible.
Who the hell are these guys?
He set his piece on the SUV, slammed his fist on the hood, then turned toward the windshield. His forearms rested on the vehicle, his head hanging in frustration. He ran his hand over his face, then over the top of his shaved head.
Sarah caught a glimpse of the burnt flesh that resided on the side of his face. The skin looked coarse–leathery even. It made him look more monster than man.
He lifted his head, then glanced her way.
Sarah dipped below the edge of the window. Her heart hammered against her chest. She waited a moment, raised up, and glanced through the bottom portion of the dingy window again.
Static hissed and crackled from the two-way radio he clutched. He lifted the radio to his mouth, shaking his head.
“Team two, report,” Leatherface said. He tilted his head to the side, training an attentive ear to the speaker. No response came. He adjusted the dials on the top of the radio, then said, “Johnson, Bennet, what’s the situation back there? Over.”
The report of gunfire tainted the air. It sounded muffled and restricted, then died off.
A distorted voice broke through the constant crackling and white noise, making it hard to hear what they said.
Leatherface tweaked the signal some more, clearing the distortion out.
“We’ve got two bodies–Kinnerk’s men,” the voice replied. The voice sounded robotic. “Blood… heading… building.”
What? Only two bodies identified as Kinnerk’s men. They didn’t mention Mandy. Did that mean she survived or escaped?
Leatherface continued adjusting the dials on the top of the radio, trying to clear up the garbled signal. He retrieved his pistol from the hood, then walked around the front of the SUV. He held the radio close to his ear and made for the corner of the warehouse. Despite moving away from the vehicle, she could still hear his voice as if he stood next to her.
“I don’t give a crap about his dead men,” Leatherface said, shouting into the two-way radio. “Those two females and Kinnerk’s head are worth a lot of money, so if you value your lives, find them, now.”
Sarah peered around the edge of the SUV, watching Leatherface.
He stood with his back to her, staring down the long stretch of pier with his piece at his side. The radio stayed close to his ear as he craned his neck and shifted his weight.
Sarah backed away from the SUV, watching Leatherface’s every move. His attention remained focused dead ahead.
She turned about face and took off in a dead sprint. Her feet hammered the wooden planks of the pier. She made for the road. Sarah skimmed over the buildings, searching for a way through the solid wall of metal that spanned down both sides of the road. It looked to be more warehouses with roll up doors lining their fronts.
The armed men yelled in her direction.
Gunfire crackled in the sky behind her. A warning shot that went wide, missing her by a mile. She flinched, lowered her head, and kept running.
Sarah peered over her shoulder, nearing the end of the pier.
Leatherface pointed in her direction while barking at two of his men chasing her down. They skirted past the SUVs with their rifles clutched in their hands.
A narrow gap within the buildings presented itself ahead of Sarah. It looked like a tight fit, but large enough for her frame to slip through.
She ran hard and fast for the opening.
The armed men gained on her–their footfalls growing louder.
Sarah slipped through the narrow passage, then ran down the long corridor. If she had any hopes of surviving, she had to lose them, and fast.
CHAPTER TWO
RUSSELL
The day’s events had taken its toll on Russell, wearing him down beyond the point of exhaustion. He hadn’t realized how damaged he was until he stopped moving.
Every inch of his body ached.
The muscles in his legs throbbed.
His ankle radiated pain.
Each breath he took made his ribs hurt.
It was all par for the course. Moving through the rugged terrain of the Blue Ridge Mountains for the past few days had been no small feat, even for those in top form. But recovering from a plane crash and a hostile encounter with crooked police and backwoods rejects was bound to prolong any expected recovery. He didn’t consider himself a slouch, but he wasn’t in peak physical condition either.
Russell adjusted himself in the seat of the Bronco, trying to find comfort any way he could.
His eyes grew thick with sleep. A yawn attacked him, forcing his mouth open. His eyelids clamped shut, pushing the wetness out both tear ducts.
“You all right?” Cathy asked, slouched in the passenger seat with her boots resting on the cracked dash. “Do you need me to drive for a bit? I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.”
Russell shook his head, then blinked, erasing the sheen from his vision. “I’m good. Just tired and sore is all. If I get too comfortable, I’ll be out. I need to stay alert. Besides, you’re a better navigator than I would be.”
Max, Cathy’s German shepherd, rested in the back on the bench seat. His front paws dangled from the edge of the worn tan leather. He stared at Russell with his large, brown eyes, then yawned. His jaws opened wide, revealing his fangs.
Cathy folded the map in her lap, then sat up straight in the seat. “I’m not one to beat a dead horse by any means, and I know I’ve already thanked you, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for Max and me. I can’t say that too many folks would have gone up against Marcus Wright and his goons. Lord knows no one had except for me. Anyway, thanks again for not bailing on us. You’re a good man. Your wife is pretty lucky to have you, Cage.”
Russell offered a warm smile, then nodded. She didn’t have to keep thanking him, considering she saved his life first from that mountain lion that sought to make a meal of him, but Cathy did nonetheless. She had a generous and kind soul. One that made her go out of her way for him when he needed it most.
