Survive The Fall | Book 2 | Madness Rising

by Shupert, Derek

  “Watch out,” Rick said, as he stumbled to the side. He lost his balance and slammed into the drywall with a dense thud.

  Sarah spotted the hole in the floor, but was unable to react and skirt the damaged area. Her foot punched through the rotting wood with ease. Gravity forced her frame down through the floor. The Glock fell from her hand and bounced over the wooden planks as her fingers searched for anything to grab. She found a loose plank that stopped her descent before plummeting to the dark depths below.

  Rick pushed away from the wall and reached for Sarah. “Hold on. I got you.”

  Panic flooded Sarah. The tips of her fingers held tough as she tried to pull herself up.

  Rick grabbed under her arm and pulled toward him. Sarah lifted some, but stopped. Something tugged at her and kept her from moving much farther.

  The henchmen were inbound, running hard and fast in their direction. It wouldn’t take them long to make the bend. Rick and Sarah needed to stop them before they made it that far.

  “I got this. Just hold them off for a few minutes while I pull myself out.” Sarah strained to pull herself out.

  “Damn it.” Rick stood up. He stepped around Sarah and ran for the edge of the hallway.

  “They’re down this way!” High-pitch yelled.

  Gunfire sounded off, making Sarah flinch. She caught sight of the muzzle fire from Rick’s Glock out of the corner of her eye. Each round fired in the corridor hammered her ears and made her squint.

  The jagged pieces of wood stabbed her torso like tiny needles. Her eyes watered as she fought through the pain.

  More gunfire ensued with the henchmen unloading their magazines. The cacophony of bullets sounded like angry wasps swarming the building. The busting of sheetrock and plaster melded with the violent, rhythmic beat of the standoff.

  Sarah pulled harder as the sharp ends of the busted planks penetrated her chest. A welp of pain fled her mouth. More tears raced down her flushed, sweaty cheeks.

  She pushed through the agony.

  The tips of the wood snapped, freeing her from their hold. She continued to pull herself out of the pit that sought to swallow her.

  “Come and get us, you dirty Irish bastards.” Rick snarled as he popped off three more rounds.

  The floor under Sarah quaked as Rick darted from the corner of the corridor. He unloaded his magazine as she pulled her legs out.

  What the hell is he doing? she thought.

  The skin around her chest and stomach stung. Her shirt was wet with a mixture of sweat and blood which made the fabric stick to her tacky flesh.

  The pain from her chest grew, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Certain death was right around the corner.

  More yelling from the henchmen echoed through the deserted halls. The gunfire had ceased for the moment.

  Sarah rolled to her back, panting as her heart pressed against her chest. No light was visible from the adjoining hallway. Where was Rick?

  She gulped, then flipped over to her side. Her hand rubbed at the stab marks on her torso as she searched for the Glock. It was to the side of the gaping hole in the floor against the wall, out of her reach.

  Shouting loomed from the adjoining hallway, followed by thunderous crashing.

  Sarah scurried to her knees, then feet as she stumbled to get her piece. The planks of wood creaked, signaling her position to any threats nearby. Sarah grabbed the Glock, turned, and sagged against the wall, feeling spent and depleted of energy.

  The heavy footfalls rushed her way. The cat was out of the bag. The henchmen were coming, and this time, they wouldn’t be fooled.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SARAH

  Rick was gone, but was he dead?

  His fate ate at Sarah as she traversed the endless halls of the creepy building. She hadn’t heard from him, or anymore gunfire for that matter. It was difficult to not assume the worst.

  Instead, Sarah focused on putting as much distance between her and the men tracking her down as possible.

  The henchmen were relentless—like blood hounds that caught a whiff of blood and stayed the course.

  The rotting floors creaked and gave with each step Sarah took. A mixture of cavernous holes and smaller portions of missing planks made it dangerous and challenging to navigate.

  It was an endless maze of corridors that zigged and zagged with large sections of walls missing. It looked as though the building was in the early stages of being renovated, or just gutted before they tore the eyesore down.

  Sarah skirted another mound of busted sheetrock that had 2 X 4’s protruding from the middle of the debris. The nail-infested boards looked like some sort of creature with fangs. She lost her footing and stumbled across the floor to the far wall.

  The henchmen had fallen back some, giving her a bit of reprieve.

  But she was lost.

  Her face twisted in uncertainty as she breathed heavily. The injured areas on Sarah’s torso were sore to the touch.

  She looked about the defunct space, trying to determine which way she needed to go. It felt as though she was trudging through quicksand.

  The handles of her purse slid down her shoulder. It didn’t want to stay in place. She lifted the leather straps over her head to her other shoulder, and slid the purse toward her back.

  The floor creaked down the hall in the direction she had come from. Sarah trained an attentive ear and listened past the thumping of blood that pulsated in her head.

  Only one set of footsteps could be heard. It was that, or they were walking in tandem with one another, which didn’t make sense. Perhaps they split up to cover more ground.

  Sarah ejected the magazine to her Glock. A few rounds sat ready to do what was needed. She had another magazine in her purse at one time, but it was missing now. Maybe taken by the thug that mugged her a day or so ago.

  She slapped the magazine back into place, then glanced at the 2X4s. A thought gelled in her head as the footfalls crept closer.

  Sarah grabbed one of the boards, taking care to not slice her hand or forearm open on the rusty ends of the nails.

  The weighted wood consumed most of her hand. It was stout and felt solid. She shuffled down the hall and slipped inside one of the drab rooms.

  The darkness swallowed her as she paused in the entrance. Slivers of light bled through the narrow fissures within the wall across the space. It wasn’t much, but enough to give her the lay of the land.

  There was no furniture of any kind or other large objects she could take cover behind. More debris littered the floors and within the space. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

  The thug was close. The clomp of his feet down the hall signaled his position.

  Sarah scooted down the wall and stopped shy of the gaping hole within the drywall. She set the 2X4 on the floor, and leaned it against the sheetrock—a backup weapon in case she needed it.

  The Glock trembled in her grasp.

  Fear racked Sarah through and through, much like how the Creeper, the man stalking her, made her feel unsafe and on edge with just a single thought.

  A heavy sigh lingered from the hallway, followed by a huff of anger. Her pursuer had caught up to her, but wasn’t sure where she was. She had no place left to go, and hoped he’d move on past the room she was hiding in.

  Sarah held her breath. The pounding of her heart sounded like a snare drum. She feared the thug would detect the loud thumping from the hall.

  “Where is this bitch at?” the thug asked in frustration.

  Wood splintered and cracked from the room across from her. More sighs loomed large from the agitated man.

  Sarah closed her eyes and fought to control her breathing. A spike of adrenaline surged through her as the ruckus from the other room ceased.

  Light shone through the hole in the wall next to Sarah. She tightened up her shoulders, and leaned to the side, away from the opening.

  The enraged man stomped across the hall to the room Sarah was hiding in. The light v
anished, then reappeared at the entrance to the space.

  She trained the Glock at the doorway and waited for the thug to crest the jamb. Her finger rested on the trigger as the light grew brighter and larger along the far wall.

  The tip of his boot stepped inside the room, followed by a tiny portion of his body. Sarah didn’t have a clear shot yet. The jamb of the door protected him, whether he knew it or not.

  She leaned forward and craned her neck, trying to get a better bead on her pursuer. He milled about for a few seconds as the light played over the room. The strident beam cut to the side in Sarah’s direction.

  In a panic, she leaned back and brushed against the wall. Her weight nudged the rotting drywall enough to make a subtle sound.

  Sarah cringed.

  The light froze in her direction. He had found her.

  The man’s arm stretched into the room with a pistol fixed in his grasp. The light lit up the tattoo on the man’s forearm. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen it before.

  Sarah opened fire.

  The Glock barked and recoiled in her hand.

  Fire spat from the barrel.

  The frame around the door splintered as the bullets tore through the rotted wood. The henchman took cover behind the wall.

  Sarah emptied the magazine in a matter of seconds. She dropped the piece and reached for the 2X4.

  The thug returned fire from around the corner of the jamb. Two rounds popped off in quick succession.

  The bullets whizzed past her shoulder, grazing her shirt. They impacted the far wall with a dense thud.

  Sarah swung the 2X4 like a Louisville Slugger. The rusted fangs of the board sunk into the man’s hand, knocking the gun free of his hold.

  “Awww. Christ.” The pistol rattled on the floor as he jerked his injured hand back. Sarah wrenched the nails from the thugs’ trembling hand as he charged into the space. “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”

  Sarah swung the 2X4 again with everything she had.

  The board slammed into the man’s side and knocked him against the wall. The flashlight fell from his grasp and clanged off the floor. His boot struck the metal casing and sent it flying across the room.

  Sarah pulled the board away to dish out more punishment. He grabbed the stout piece of wood with a firm grip, then knocked it free of her hand.

  The 2X4 clanged off the floor at her feet. Sarah’s eyes went wide with terror as the brute gnashed his teeth.

  She lunged for the board.

  The thug kicked it away, well out of her reach. He loomed before Sarah. The light from the flashlight cast his shadow on the wall which made him look like a giant.

  Blood dribbled from his hand and side and splattered on the floor. His fingers flexed, then balled into a fist that ripped a growl from the scowl on his face.

  Sarah was trapped like a rat in a maze with a voracious cat ready to tear the tiny animal to shreds.

  The hulking man narrowed his gaze. The shadow cast across his face made him look more sinister. His wide frame blocked her path to the doorway. Weaponless and with no way out, she attempted one plea for her life.

  “Listen, I don’t know anything about the money you’re after,” Sarah pleaded through shuddering lips. She held her hands up in front of her as the brute forced her into the far corner of the room. “I don’t even know Allen or anything else pertaining to your boss. Please, just let me and my friend go.”

  The thug’s scowl remained. He didn’t bat an eye at her feeble attempt to save her and Rick’s life.

  “Bullshit,” the man snarled. “Then why the hell did you nearly run us over back at his garage?” He held up his good hand before Sarah could answer. “Let me tell you why. It’s because you know where that piece of trash Allen is or you’re in on whatever little plan that weasel hatched. Either way, I’m going to enjoy finding out what you know.” His tone shifted. The scowl on his face twisted to a demented smirk that made Sarah feel unclean. His tongue slithered from his mouth like a snake and licked around his lips.

  Oh God.

  Sarah wasn’t going to allow what was coming next. She’d fight with everything she had until the last bit of life left her body.

  She took off in a dead sprint, trying to skirt past the vile man. He snatched her up in his tree trunk like arms with minimal effort.

  “No. Let me go, you bastard.” Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs while kicking her legs.

  The man turned with his back to the wall. His strong arms held firm, despite Sarah’s thrashing.

  Her legs kicked wildly, and her arms swung in every direction with the hopes of catching a lucky shot on the man’s face.

  She dipped her chin and searched for the 2X4.

  “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  Sarah leaned into the man’s broad chest, then tossed her head back. Her skull connected with the bridge of the thug’s nose.

  “Christ,” he said, yelling into her ear. His grip lessened, giving Sarah a bit of wiggle room.

  She threw her upper body forward and pushed her legs toward his. The tilting of her body pulled him toward the floor. Her feet hit solid ground, but his hold around her chest remained.

  Sarah bent down, then drove the man back into the wall. The sheetrock caved in.

  His arms dropped from around Sarah, giving her space to flee. He roared aloud as he cupped his nose.

  Sarah stumbled across the floor and grabbed the 2X4. The enraged man hammered the wall with his balled fist and the tip of his boot, busting the drywall more.

  She rose from the floor as he turned and looked her way. Blood seeped from both nostrils. He snarled at her.

  Sarah backed away with the dense plank of wood clutched in her hands. She eyed the doorway for a split second before focusing on her aggressor.

  The man took a single step forward. Two arms emerged through the hole in the wall. They wrapped around his throat and yanked him backward.

  Shock flooded the man’s face as he smashed through the crumbling wall. Dust tainted the air as busted pieces of sheetrock fell to the floor.

  The strife from the men fighting loomed from the corridor. A loud crash made her flinch. Sarah stood in place, wielding the makeshift weapon as she craned her neck toward the battling men in the hallway.

  It has to be Rick.

  A gunshot rang out, followed by a flash of white.

  A heavy thump hit the floor.

  No sounds loomed from the corridor except panted breathing.

  Sarah retreated to the doorway, stumbling over her feet. She struggled to control her breathing. Short bursts escaped her mouth as she toed the sill.

  Movement from the hallway controlled any hasty actions Sarah contemplated. She hoped Rick survived, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Sarah,” a weak voice said from the hallway. “Are you all right?”

  Relief washed over Sarah. She recognized the voice. “Yeah. I’m good.” She stepped out into the corridor and lowered the 2X4.

  Rick was on the ground with his back against the wall. The thug’s large frame was draped across his waist. His face was contorted in exhaustion. He rolled the dead man’s bulk from his legs. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

  Sarah rushed to his side while keeping a watchful eye on the thug lying prone on his stomach. “You too. I wasn’t sure if they got you or not.” She extended her hand out.

  Rick grabbed it. “Not for lack of trying. That’s for damn sure.”

  He groaned in discomfort as Sarah pulled him to his feet. What little she could see of his face was dirty with dark patches of black she assumed was blood.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I’ll live. Not the worst shape I’ve ever been in.”

  Sarah looked past Rick to the other end of the corridor.

  “How many are left? He’s the only one I’ve seen. Not sure where the other guy is that was with him.”

  “I took one out on my way here. I think it was the high-pitched dirtbag that wa
s with our friend here, which means we have two remaining. They no doubt heard that gunshot.” Rick ejected the magazine from his Glock, then grumbled in frustration. “I’m out.”

  “Do you think they’ll come? Maybe they’ll give up and cut their losses.” Sarah hoped that was the case, but deep down, she didn’t feel like they’d just abandon a lead, whether it was viable or not.

  Rick slapped the empty mag into place, then secured the Glock in the waistband of his jeans behind his back. “Doubtful. I know of Kinnerk. He’s a ruthless son of a bitch and doesn’t let things slide. His goons are still here somewhere. They won’t dare go back to him empty handed. Not if they value their lives.”

  A sinking feeling filled the pit of Sarah’s stomach. The henchmen were down two men, but that did little to stay her nerves.

  They were out of ammo and lost in the confines of the sprawling, abandoned building. “What are we going to do, then? I emptied my Glock at this asshole earlier.”

  Rick rubbed his chin, then ran his fingers through his hair. Sarah suspected he was formulating a plan to get the hell out of there. “Is there a flashlight in there?”

  “Yeah, there is,” Sarah answered. “I’ll be right back.”

  She rushed into the room, searching for the thug’s flashlight. It had been kicked against the wall.

  Sarah retrieved the small light and her Glock, then ran back out into the hallway. “Got it.”

  Rick kneeled next to the dead man’s body. He patted him down around his waist. “Shine the light over here, will ya?” He worked his fingers into the front pockets of the man’s jeans.

  As Sarah watched him search the body, she caught sight of the tattoo on the man’s forearm. A portion of the design was concealed by shadows and the man’s head. She cocked her head to the side, then squinted her eyes.

  A symbol of some sort, or so she assumed. She grabbed his hand and pulled his arm out from under his big head.

  “What are you doing?” Rick asked.

  Sarah skimmed over the design. A Celtic Knot that was different than the traditional symbol. It had dark, endless loops that were woven together with no beginning or ending. Additional markings were etched around the outside which were Greek to her. “I’ve seen this tattoo before.”