Survive The Fall | Book 2 | Madness Rising

by Shupert, Derek

“Won’t that be a bit conspicuous?” Johnson asked with a raised brow.

  “You work for Marcus Wright. It shouldn’t surprise him if you show up,” Russell answered matter-of-factly. “To be honest, I don’t give a crap if he does care. You’ll figure it out either way.”

  Johnson shook his head and snickered under his breath. He wiped the thin stream of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. Marcus Wright is someone you do not want to cross.”

  “And neither do you,” Russell shot back. “Now move!” He grabbed Johnson by his uniform and shoved him toward the entrance of the station. The deputy stumbled into the doors and stopped himself before smacking into tempered glass.

  On his hip, Russell spotted another pair of cuffs secured on his duty belt. He contemplated having him put them on, but he wanted him to drive, and figured that having his wrists restrained might pose more of a risk to Russell.

  Johnson threw open the door in a huff and stomped through the entryway.

  Russell kept a close eye on him as he pressed the barrel into the small of his back. “Just remember, you try anything other than what I tell you, I’m going to empty this magazine. You got me?”

  “Yeah, I got you.” Johnson shoved the next set of glass doors open as Russell escorted him out onto the sidewalk. They strode to the Prowler, calm and collected.

  Russell skimmed over the buildings for any prying eyes. The town was mostly deserted. Not a single soul was visible.

  Johnson tossed the driver’s side door open and settled into the plush seat. He fired up the engine.

  There were no other cops in the area that Russell could spot. For now, they were in the clear, and could slip away undetected. At least, until more arrived back at the station to find the disheveled mess from their scrap.

  Russell opened his door and slipped into the passenger seat. He slammed it shut, then pointed the pistol toward the deputy. Johnson looked at him from the corner of his eye as he secured his seat belt.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Johnson bit his tongue and did as directed. No back talk or snide remarks were offered.

  Good man.

  He grabbed the gear shift and pulled it into reverse. The Prowler backed away from the curb out into the street.

  Russell checked the side view mirror as they headed down the road. Two animals darted around the corner of the building from the intersection flanking them. He squinted and leaned forward, watching the dogs race after them. It took a moment for Russell to figure out it was Butch and Max.

  I’ll be damned.

  “What’s wrong?” Johnson asked.

  “Stop the car, and give me the keys,” Russell said, turning and looking through the rear window.

  “Why?” Johnson asked, confused by the request.

  Russell jabbed the pistol into his side. “Because I said so, that’s why.”

  “All right.” Johnson stopped the Prowler in the middle of the street, then killed the engine. “Here.”

  Russell took the keys, then opened his door.

  “Come on, guys,” he said, patting his leg and whistling.

  Both Max and Butch flanked the Prowler. Side by side, the large canines galloped toward Russell as he took a knee.

  “Hey, guys. Where the heck did you come from?”

  The tired dogs panted with their tongues dangling from their maws. He rubbed the crown of their heads as their tongues flicked at his face.

  Russell stood up and opened the backseat door. Both Max and Butch hopped in without being told.

  “Whoa,” Johnson said, twisting in his seat. “We are not taking those dogs anywhere with us.”

  The bulletproof glass and steel mesh cage behind the front seats kept the large, intimidating canines at bay as Johnson pointed at them.

  Russell hopped back into the front seat and slammed his door.

  Max bared his teeth and folded his ears as he stared at the deputy. His tongue flicked out at the frightened man.

  Johnson looked to Russell with a concerned gaze.

  “You’re fine. Besides, this should give you ample incentive to not do anything stupid.” Russell glanced back to the angry dogs as their intense, focused gazes honed in on Johnson. “They look kind of hungry, actually. Not sure when they’ve eaten last.”

  Russell relished in the deputy’s quaking fear. It wasn’t hard to tell from his hard gulps and wide eyes.

  “Just keep them away from me, will ya?” he asked.

  “Not a fan of dogs, huh?” Russell tapped the barricade with his knuckles.

  Butch peered at him with his slanted, menacing eyes and licked at the glass.

  “I’ve had some run-ins with both of them before,” Johnson answered. He took the keys back and fired up the engine. He put the Prowler into drive. “Both of those mutts attacked me for no damn reason.”

  Russell could believe it with Butch. He was a wild card—a dog that could be triggered without much warning. He was suspect of anyone and everyone it seemed. “Perhaps they just sensed how big of a dirtbag you really are. Dogs are good at judging a person’s character like that. Looks like they hit the nail on the head with you.”

  “Screw you, Cage,” Johnson said, not caring for the slanderous remark.

  “Like I said, you don’t do anything stupid, and I’ll make sure they leave you alone.”

  That was a lie and one that he couldn’t guarantee he could keep. Maybe Max would listen, as it seemed like they had a pretty good rapport, but Butch was a different story all together.

  From what he could tell of the hulking brute, Butch was headstrong and kind of did as he pleased. The only way Russell could even think of keeping him in line was to assert his dominance when it called for it. Show the animal who the alpha male was.

  Russell kept the pistol trained at Johnson as they made their way through the desolate town. Only a handful of people were walking down the sidewalks in front of the powerless buildings. They shot a glance at the passing Prowler with a mischievous gaze that hinted at dubious intentions. Russell didn’t care, much less bat an eye. Whatever they were contemplating wasn’t his problem.

  Silence befell the cab. No idle banter or harsh words were spoken between the two men which was fine with Russell. He didn’t have much to say to the corrupt cop anyway. They had a mutual understanding of the way things were and the conditions of their arrangement.

  Watching the buildings zip past, Russell couldn’t help but think of Sarah and how she was doing. Being cut off from her, as he was, and not knowing how she was doing ate at him. He wished he could call her, reach out in whatever way possible just to hear her voice to make sure she was all right. That wasn’t going to happen, though.

  The world had plunged into dark times in a blink and the one person he wanted to be with wasn’t there. Their relationship was strained because of him, and the bottles of liquor he chased to drown his own shortcomings.

  Their once happy marriage was strained to the point of breaking, but there was still hope on the horizon. Despite how thin it may be, Russell had to hold onto that sliver to keep him going. To get him home for his second chance at a happy life.

  They hit the outskirts of town and drove along the winding roads that sliced through the lush, mountainous hillsides. Dense wooded areas lined the narrow road and blotted out the sun overhead.

  Russell peered at Johnson who had his chin dipped as he stared at Russell. “What are you looking at?”

  Johnson shrugged, then shot him a quick glance before moving his attention to the road ahead of them. “When’s the last time you had a fix?”

  “Excuse me?” Russell asked. “Fix?”

  “Your hand. The way it’s shaking. I’ve seen that in junkies going through withdrawals,” Johnson replied, nodding at Russell’s trembling hand. “Drugs? Alcohol?”

  Russell dipped his chin and looked at his hand. It quaked on its own, trembling on his thigh—a tick he had when his body lacked t
he effects of the demon’s juice. One he hadn’t realized was happening at that moment.

  He stretched his fingers, then made a fist. “Why don’t you worry about yourself and less about me?”

  The last thing Russell wanted to do was talk with the corrupt deputy about anything other than what they had set out to do. He had no intentions of doing a deep dive into his shortcomings.

  “I’m just saying, that’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better,” Johnson said, as he tilted his head at Russell’s hand. “I’ve seen it a lot. You’ll have a hard time focusing, plus hearing and seeing things that aren’t there. A sort of decline into madness, really, that’s hard to pull yourself out of. That descent is hard for most. Detoxing is a bitch in a controlled environment with help, but on your own, phew, you’re in for a rude awakening, pal.”

  Russell shook his hand and furrowed his brow. “Listen, I thought I told you to-”

  Johnson jerked the steering wheel clockwise. The tires of the Prowler screeched as the bulky SUV darted toward the lush verdure running along the side of the road.

  Russell dumped over onto his side as the deputy grabbed the barrel of the pistol. Both Max and Butch barked and clawed at the plexiglass as the two men fought for control of the weapon.

  Fire spat from the sidearm. The sharp report pounded through the enclosed space. The single round punched through the driver’s side windshield at an angle as they tussled for control.

  Johnson twisted the piece in Russell’s hand, mashing his fingers.

  “Ahh,” Russell said, in pain as his contorted digit bent within the trigger guard.

  The Prowler barreled through the tall weeds that lined the roadway.

  Russell punched Johnson in the face. The deputy’s head snapped to the side, his hand releasing its hold of the pistol.

  Russell lost his grip of the pistol.

  It tumbled off the center console and fell to the floorboard on Russell’s side.

  The Prowler flew across the road on a dime, and headed for the opposite side of the road.

  Russell was thrown against the door and unable to retrieve the sidearm before the Prowler plowed through the weeds.

  The front end tore through the dense vegetation at full speed and down the steep side of the hill.

  Johnson wrenched the steering wheel from side to side, avoiding the trees that littered the hillside. He slammed the brakes with both feet, trying to bring the two-ton steel vehicle under submission.

  The wheels locked up, but the SUV kept going. Russell bent over and reached for the floorboard. The seat belt snapped to and restricted his movement. He couldn’t lay eyes on the pistol from where he was. His feet shuffled about. The soles of his boots stepped on the weapon.

  The Prowler came to a gliding stop before the thick oak tree that was in their path.

  Johnson flung open his door and ripped the seat belt free of his waist.

  Russell unlatched his belt and retrieved the pistol as Johnson bolted from the idling cruiser. Russell squeezed the trigger without aiming, hoping to nick the deputy before he got too far away.

  Two rounds popped off in quick succession, shattering the driver’s side window. Johnson flinched and covered his head as shards of busted glass chased after him.

  Max and Butch howled from the backseat. They clawed at the windows, begging to be set free.

  Russell shoved his door open in a fit of rage. The deputy caught him off guard and got the best of him.

  Son of a bitch.

  A single mistake had altered his plans.

  Russell wasn’t a crack shot and struggled to get a bead on the fleeing officer who tore ass down the hillside. If he got too far away, Russell feared he wouldn’t catch up to him, seeing as he probably knew this area better than Russell did.

  The dogs.

  Unleash the beasts.

  Johnson kept rushing down the hillside. It was getting harder for Russell to keep him in sight through the thick shrubs and trees he weaved in and out of.

  Butch howled and clawed at the window. His voice boomed like thunder.

  Russell opened the door, unleashing the large cane corso.

  Both dogs bolted from the backseat in a flash. They made a wide arch around the trunk of the tree and raced after the fleeing deputy at full tilt. Each canine sliced through the verdure at lightning speed as they charged after their target.

  Once more, Russell was forced into the vast, lush wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains. At least this time, he wasn’t alone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SARAH

  It couldn’t be him, could it?

  Spencer Laster, the Creeper, had tracked her down somehow within the madness that had consumed Boston. Sarah only got a quick glimpse of the man in the ballcap, but her intuition made her move just the same.

  The mere thought of the Creeper being so close made her blood freeze. His coy smirk and dark eyes dancing over her body always sent a shiver down her spine. It was a disgusting sensation she never wanted to feel again.

  Sarah ran hard and fast down the sidewalk, trying to put as much distance between her and the vile scumbag as possible.

  Her stride was long, and her muscles burned from the stress, but Sarah didn’t care. She pushed herself to the brink as she glanced over her shoulder.

  She couldn’t lay eyes on Spencer from down the empty sidewalk, but that didn’t mean anything. He was sly and stealthy which made matters worse. She toyed with the idea that perhaps he was never there, and the undue stress, and lack of sleep and food conjured her deepest, darkest fear into reality. Her body was running on fumes, and a crash felt imminent.

  Her purse slapped her side with each stride she took. Her Glock was spent and nothing more than a nonthreatening deterrent that would need to be refilled as soon as she could.

  A voice whispered in her ears, low and subtle. She could feel the Creeper’s tepid breath brush over her sweaty flesh, his fingers gently touching her arms and making her skin feel unclean.

  She peered over her shoulder and caught sight of the ballcap flanking her and closing in. The bill concealed the majority of his face with only a deviant smile visible as he gained on her.

  Panic consumed every molecule of her being as she surged ahead. She needed to give him the slip and do it fast.

  Sarah skirted the corner of the building she was running alongside, and darted down the alleyway without breaking her stride. Her lungs stung, but she fought through the pain. She checked behind her for the Creeper, but didn’t spot him on the street.

  She continued her brisk pace, sprinting through the passageway in a dead heat.

  Shouting and yelling echoed down the corridor up ahead. Sarah slowed to a slight jog. It sounded heated.

  Sarah stopped shy of the bend as she gasped for air.

  Flashing red and blue played over the brick wall to Sarah’s left. It was the police which made her feel relieved, and also worried, considering the tumult that brewed from the adjoining alley.

  Sarah toed the bend and craned her neck, searching for what threat waited around the corner. She struggled to catch her breath. She gulped down the large lump in her throat as she spotted two men fighting in the alley.

  A cop and a civilian were in a heated struggle as they grappled with one another. Deep grunts and growls loomed from both men as they fought for control over what seemed to be the officer’s sidearm.

  “Stand down, now,” the officer shouted while being driven back into the brick wall.

  His attacker leaned into the uniformed man with his shoulder, then turned about while grabbing his wrists. With his back pressed to the officer’s chest, he rammed his knee into the cop’s arm.

  The pistol discharged, firing off a single round that echoed down the alley. The sharp report and white flash from the barrel did little to deter the assailant’s attempts at stealing the officer’s weapon.

  The scruffy man tugged and pulled at the weapon. He gritted his teeth and jerked his arms.

 
; Sarah wanted to help, but wasn’t sure what she could do. Approaching the battle could make matters worse since she was unarmed.

  The men turned toward Sarah, giving her a brief glimpse of the officer. His face was twisted in an angry scowl. His teeth gnashed as veins bulged from the sides of his face and just above his brow.

  Oh no.

  Sarah knew that cop. It was David.

  He was a family friend who had been there for her and Russell for as long as she could remember. He had helped them out when Jess was killed and when Russell was slugging through the depths of depression and alcohol. He was a good man, and she hated to see him in such a dangerous predicament.

  Another round fired from his pistol as the thug knocked the weapon from his hand. It bounced off the concrete and slid away from the dueling men.

  David shoved the thug off of him, putting some distance between the two of them. The man stumbled across the alley. He caught himself before falling to the ground.

  The pistol was up for grabs. The thug went for the weapon as David rushed headlong at him. The surly thug grabbed the grip and spun on his heels, trying to get a bead on David. David tackled the surly man to the ground.

  Both men grappled for control over the sidearm. She couldn’t spot the weapon within the meld of entangled arms and bodies.

  No one knew Sarah’s weapon was empty except for her. She could help. Sarah pulled the Glock from her waistband.

  She couldn’t stand idly by any longer.

  “No, no, no,” David said, as he fought to redirect the barrel of the pistol.

  Sarah emerged from the bend with her Glock trained ahead of her.

  Another round chambered off between the two men. The flash of white was brief. David collapsed on top of the man.

  “No.” Sarah sprinted up the alley as David rolled over to the concrete. He gasped for air from the flat of his back while holding the pistol. His head rested against the pavement as his chest heaved in and out.

  The footfalls approaching made him flinch, then he trained the pistol at Sarah. She threw her hands up and came to a screeching halt.

  He squinted his eyes in confusion. “Sarah?”