Survive The Fall | Book 3 | Dark Roads, page 5
part #3 of Survive The Fall Series
Cathy shrugged. “All right. I’ll see you inside, then. Come on, boy.”
Max snapped too and followed his handler. Cathy limped past the well pump toward the porch.
Russell walked around the front of the Bronco and retrieved the keys from the ignition. He gathered the supplies from the floorboard and slammed the driver’s side door.
He checked the remainder of the Bronco for anything of use. The vehicle belonged to Marcus Wright, the low life who had kidnapped Cathy and held her hostage at one of his lumber mills.
In the far back seat, Russell found a blanket and a bag. He grabbed both and closed the rear hatch.
Russell faced the dark, abandoned house, then muttered, “Home sweet home.”
CHAPTER SIX
SARAH
Her ankle throbbed, pulsating with pain. The longer Sarah walked, the more intense the discomfort grew. She braced her hand against the rigid surface of the brick building she trudged alongside, trying to relieve the pressure from her foot.
The leap from the window to the trash bin was a bold move—one Sarah never thought she’d do in a million years—but armed men and the Creeper had pushed her over the edge and into that steel container of filth.
Sarah peered over her shoulder, panting and searching for Spencer or the armed men, but the coming night dulled the daylight–making it harder to see. She spotted no figures lurking in the dark corners of the buildings close by or the vehicles that sat on the sides of the street.
Damn it.
The smell lingering from her body paled in comparison to the pain that tormented her ankle. Sarah twisted her leg to the side, then dipped her chin. She pulled her grungy pant leg up to examine the damage. The absence of any light and her shoe hampered her vision.
Sarah lowered her pant leg, then looked over the desolate street and buildings. Not a single soul lurked on the far sidewalk or near the sprawling structures.
The surroundings didn’t look familiar, especially in the dark. She didn’t frequent this part of Boston often, if ever, so she was at a loss as to where to go.
Sarah pushed off the wall and limped down the sidewalk. The exterior of the building acted like a crutch. Barking dogs and gunfire crackling in the sky randomly made her flinch. She skimmed over the darkening streets and buildings, watching for any unscrupulous thugs looking for an easy target.
A car drove past her, heading toward the intersection up head. The bright red glow of the taillights flashed as the sedan slowed, then continued on through the intersection. It sped away as Sarah turned the corner.
She hobbled down the sidewalk, drawing her arms across her chest. Her clothes clung to skin–wet with sweat and whatever ungodly fluids had spilled from the trash. The wind brushed over her exposed skin, making her shiver. She pulled her arms tighter.
The constant threat of being chased kept her body tense, and her guard up.
Sarah needed a moment to sit and process everything, but where?
A ghastly gray figure emerged from the alley she passed. His sudden appearance snatched her breath and made her hobble backward.
She lifted her arms, then balled her hands into fists—a gut reaction to the ominous-looking figure who stood before her like death itself.
The hood of his jacket draped over his head, cloaking his face. The stench grew tenfold, adding to the already foul smell that lingered from her own battered frame.
“Don’t come near me,” Sarah said, her voice low and timid. “Stay away from me.”
A car backfired up the street.
Sarah recoiled, looking away from the figure before her.
The man grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the abysmal gloom of the dark alleyway.
“Let me go.” Sarah jerked her arm back, but couldn’t rip it away from the man’s hand.
Her body thrashed, and her legs kicked. The injured ankle gave, causing Sarah to lose her balance and stumble.
The cloaked man dragged her farther into the blackness, away from any prying eyes that could see the sinister act he had in store for her.
Sarah fell to the concrete.
Her knees hit the pavement, scraping the skin.
She fell forward, then over to her side.
“Help,” she said, screaming at the top of her lungs.
The man stopped, then stooped down. He held a blade at her throat, the sharp edge pressed against her skin. “Scream one more time, and I’ll open you up.”
Sarah shuddered, fighting the urge to scream. She clenched her jaw and held her tongue.
The man towed her a bit farther, then discarded her next to a pile of trash bags.
He towered over her, offering no demands of any sort.
Sarah kicked her legs, searching for that sweet spot between his hips.
The man knocked her feeble attempts to the side, then mounted her. His bulk rested on her thighs, keeping her legs from moving. Her balled fists punched at his face, or any other part of his body she could strike.
“No. No. Get off me.” Sarah caught a lucky blow, hitting him square on the chin.
He paused, then rubbed his jaw. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Sarah swung at his head again, hoping to catch him with another lucky strike. She lifted her hips into the air and moved her legs, trying to wiggle them free.
A heavy hand smashed into the side of Sarah’s face. Her jaw ached from the glancing blow.
The man leaned forward, placing the blade back against her throat. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His warm, fetid breath hit the side of her face, adding insult to injury.
Sarah pressed the palms of her hands to his chest and pushed, but the man’s weight was too much for her to move.
He kissed the side of her neck, his tongue slithering over her flesh like a snake. The coarse, wiry strands of hair from his beard grated on her skin. Her flesh crawled with disgust.
His free hand explored her body. Lying there, at the man’s mercy, Sarah wondered if this was how it would end—her being raped then murdered in an alley like some piece of trash.
Tears formed in her eyes. A whimper of sadness fled her trembling lips as she pushed on the man’s chest.
A light shone from the direction of the street. It grew brighter and headed their way. The black-clad figure taking advantage of Sarah hadn’t noticed it.
“Hey, get off of her,” the stern, feminine voice said.
The man pulled away from Sarah’s neck and sat up straight. His hand left her breast, then pointed at the stranger standing off to the side of them. “If you know what’s good for you, then you’ll–”
The woman struck the man in the head with her bag, knocking him off balance. He pulled the knife away from Sarah’s throat, then leaned to the side. He stood off her legs, giving her room to move.
The black-clad figure straddled her legs, then pointed the tip of his knife at the woman.
Sarah kicked him in the balls, ripping a painful scream from the man’s mouth.
He dropped the blade to the concrete, then dumped over to his side.
The woman offered Sarah her hand, then helped her off the dirty pavement. “Are you ok?”
“Better now, no thanks to this piece of crap.” Sarah got to her feet, favoring her pulsating ankle.
The man writhed on the concrete, balled into the fetal position and cupping his genitals. He groaned and panted, trying to catch his breath. “You damn–bitch.”
The light from the woman’s phone shone over the man’s knife on the ground and the smirched, nasty rags he wore. The meager blade caught Sarah’s attention. She bent down and retrieved the weapon from the pavement.
The woman placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder, then said, “Come on. Let’s go while we can.”
Sarah contemplated using the knife on the vile thug. Perhaps she’d do the world a favor and castrate him–take the other weapon from between his legs, so he couldn’t use it on anyone else.
The notion fell by the wayside, though, as killing an unarmed man didn’t set well with her now that she had the upper hand.
She pointed the tip of the blade at the man. “You’re lucky I don’t take your beans and frank, you sick piece of shit. Consider this you winning the lottery.”
“Come on.” The woman tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the whimpering man.
Sarah pocketed the knife, then turned away. She placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “Thank you for your help.”
The woman’s face was cast in shadows, offering only the outline of her angular cheekbones and other subtle features the darkness tried to hide.
The flashlight from her phone shone at the ground in front of them, lighting their way out of the alley to the sidewalk. “No thanks needed. I’m just glad I passed by when I did. This can be a rough neighborhood, even with the power on and everything not out of control like it is.”
“Seems like most of Boston is rough right now.” Sarah removed her hand, then tried to stand on her own. The pain in her ankle hurt, causing her to lift her leg from the ground and favor it. The plummet to the dumpster from the window must have hurt her ankle when she hit. She didn’t recall hitting anything within the trash-filled container that would’ve hurt her leg, but then again, it happened so fast she might not have noticed doing so. “Damn it.”
The woman held out her arms, grabbing her by the waist. “Here. My apartment is up the street. Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll take a look at it.”
Sarah could manage on her own and didn’t want to drag anyone else into her chaotic world. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad. I probably just tweaked it when that guy attacked me.”
The woman shook her head. “It looks bad enough that you’re limping. Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, staying out here with lowlife’s like that guy back there won’t do you any good. I insist.”
“I really don’t want to be a bother,” Sarah said, limping alongside the younger, smaller woman.
“You’re not. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you out here after experiencing what you did and being hurt as well. It wouldn’t be right,” the woman replied, taking Sarah’s arm and putting it over her shoulders to hold her weight. “From the looks of it, you could use a moment to rest.”
You have no idea.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RUSSELL
The torrid wind exploited any imperfections within the siding of the exterior walls. A subtle whistling echoed throughout the hollow space. Branches slapped against the house, adding to the other odd noises that lingered in the abandoned home.
Max didn’t care for the unwanted sounds, growling from his core as he searched for the source.
“It’s ok, boy,” Cathy said, petting the crown of his head from the flat of her back. “Just the weather outside being unruly is all. Nothing you haven’t heard before.”
The German shepherd leaned into her hand, soaking up the attention like a sponge. His head lay on the floor at her side, the perfect watchman for the night.
“How’s the leg feeling?” Russell asked, standing behind Max and Cathy at the boarded-up window in the living room.
“It’s doing all right. Still throbs and aches, but the bleeding has lessened, I think.” Cathy shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable on the wafer-thin cushions they robbed from the broken-down couch that sat at an angle in the far corner of the room. “Pretty lucky you finding that go bag and blanket in the back of the Bronco.”
Russell peered through the narrow gaps between the boards, skimming over the front yard and the gravel road that ran in front of the property. “Seems like Marcus Wright’s goons liked to be prepared. Good for us in the end.”
The living room of the abandoned house had become their sanctuary for the night. A less than desirable place, given its dire state of repair, but it had a roof and four walls.
“True. The blanket is a nice touch, so are the medical supplies, rope, and flashlight.” Cathy slapped the black metal casing of the Maglite against her hand. “I just wish this damn flashlight would work a bit better. I think the batteries are shot. That light should be a lot brighter than it is.”
Light flickered from the bezel, then faded away.
Russell nodded, then scratched at the festering itch on the side of his scruffy face. “Have you eaten anything yet?”
He stepped away from the window and walked over to them.
Cathy ran her fingers over the mound of sweets. “I had a Snickers. That’s about it. I’m leaving the jerky for Max, if that’s ok? Kind of hard to see what all is here with it being so dark and all.”
Russell bent down, then ran his fingers along Max’s spine. “Yeah. I’d planned on giving him the jerky. I’ll nibble on what’s left.”
Max tilted his head back, looking up at Russell. A yawn attacked him, his maw opening wide.
“Well, there should be plenty here.” Cathy grabbed a handful of the sugary foods. “I try not to eat too much candy. It normally doesn’t agree with me.”
“I think I grabbed some salted nuts as well. Can’t remember.” Russell dipped his chin and searched the floor for the flashlight, wanting to see if he could get it working.
“Haven’t found any nuts other than the ones coated in chocolate,” Cathy replied, shifting her weight.
Russell felt around the floor, finding the flashlight next to Cathy. “How’s the pain?”
Cathy groused, then said, “In my leg or the knot forming in my back?”
“I told you they had some weird kind of couch thing in one of the upstairs rooms. I can haul it down here. Won’t be a problem.” Russell slapped the flashlight against his hand, then thumbed the switch on the side. The light flickered, then died.
“You’re in no condition to be shuffling furniture around, especially from the second floor and down those rickety looking stairs,” Cathy said. “Without having this gunshot on the side of my thigh, you’re just about in as bad of shape as I am. Both of us can’t be out of commission.”
Russell took apart the Maglite, then slipped the batteries out. He blew inside the housing. “I’m not dying or feeble. If it’ll help make you a bit more comfortable, I don’t mind doing it. I know those cushions we pulled from the couch over there don’t give much cushion between you and the floor.”
Cathy tried to turn to face Russell, but grimaced in pain. “You’ve never camped before, have you, Cage? Roughed it outside with nothing but the ground God provided and a blanket of stars to fill your eyes before drifting off to sleep?”
“I think we’ve established that I’m rather lacking in outdoor survival training.” Russell slammed the batteries back into the Maglite, then screwed the top back on. He thumbed the button.
“It’s a waste of time messing with that damn thing.” Cathy lifted her head from the blanket, then probed around the wound with her fingers. “I’d just leave it be. There’s no telling how long they had it in that bag or how old those batteries are.”
Russell stood with the Maglite clutched in his hand. “I’m going to check the Bronco to see if maybe they have any batteries that I overlooked. I’ll be right back.”
“Do you want Max to go with you?” Cathy asked, her tone unsteady.
“No. I’m good, unless he needs to use the bathroom or something,” Russell answered. Max didn’t budge from the floor or look too keen on moving from his spot next to Cathy. “He doesn’t look like he wants to venture outside right now. If he needs to go, he can find a spot to do his business somewhere inside. I doubt the house will mind. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen in here, I imagine. I’ll be right back.”
Russell turned and walked away, heading out of the living room into the foyer. He passed the staircase, then dug his hand into the front pocket of his pants.
The tiny bottle of Jack Daniels he’d snagged from the convenience store weighed on his mind. His aligning body needed a fix to curb the subtle pain. A quick fix to help him through the long journey ahead.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking back at Cathy, acting as if he’d done something wrong. He’d grown used to such habits with Sarah.
Just a taste. Enough to take the edge off and dull the pain. Nothing more.
The little bottle was the closest thing he had to pain killers. It’d have to do in a pinch.
Russell stopped, then drifted back into the ether of the narrow walkway that ran beside the staircase. He leaned back against the wall, unscrewing the cap from the bottle.
The rich scent of the whiskey filled his nose–a mixture of bananas, honey, and wood.
His mouth watered from excitement.
A single drink, nay a sip, is all he sought.
The rim of the bottle pressed to his lips.
Russell tilted his head back, taking a gulp of the spirit.
The flavorful whiskey splashed over his tongue, then down his throat. It coursed through his body, dumping into the depths of his stomach.
The liquor warmed and relaxed his body, putting Russell into a state of momentary peace. He licked his lips, removing the evidence, and took another swig.
A crashing sound from the second floor snared his attention from the stolen moment with the bottle. He removed the opening from his lips, screwed the cap back on, then shoved the tiny bottle back into his pocket.
Max barked from the living room.
“Russell, are you ok?” Cathy asked in a raised voice.
“Yeah. I’m fine. That wasn’t me.” Russell moved around the stairs, stopping on the landing and glancing up to the second floor.
“You don’t think someone is up there, do you?”
“There shouldn’t be. Max and I checked over the house before you came in. We didn’t see or find any signs of anyone staying here.”
“It could be a raccoon or something.”
“Yeah. That’s probably what it is, but I’m going to go check it out regardless.” Russell pulled his piece from the waistband of his jeans and walked toward the stairs.
