Survive The Fall | Book 2 | Madness Rising

by Shupert, Derek

  Russell shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Johnson pointed at the bottle, then said, “How do you even know it’s still good. From the layer of dust and who knows what else, it could’ve been down there for years. Decades.”

  “Whiskey doesn’t really go bad if the seal hasn’t broken,” Russell said. “If it has been, then it will slowly weaken over time and lose its flavor, but that’s about it.”

  “I guess you’d know all about that, huh, Cage?” Johnson asked.

  The disparaging remark was not lost on Russell, but he didn’t care. Johnson had no place to judge him.

  Staring at the bottle, Russell caught a glimpse of something tucked under the bed. It was hard to tell what it was. He set the aged whiskey on the floor and bent over. The side of his face kissed the dirt as he reached into the depths under the steel frame of the cot. He grabbed a handful of what felt like a pack or something and pulled it out.

  “Did you find more whiskey?” Johnson quipped.

  Russell gave him the middle finger. A thick layer coated the outside of the dark green and brown rucksack. Russell unzipped the pack and opened it up.

  The interior was stuffed with an array of items. Rope, batteries, flashlight, a canteen, and first aid kit.

  “Here,” Russell said, while throwing the first aid kit at Johnson.

  “Whoa.” Johnson fumbled the kit in his hands.

  Russell pulled the canteen out of the pack and stood up. He grabbed the bottle from the floor and turned toward the open door. “I’m going to go down to the stream and fill this up. Get that leg dressed however you need and be ready to move.”

  Johnson popped the top to the kit. It was stocked with an assortment of bandages, gauze, and other medical items. “Enjoy that whiskey, Cage.”

  Asshole.

  “Just hurry it up.” Russell tromped to the open doorway. Max fell in line behind him as did Butch. He stopped, then turned toward the dogs. “Butch, you stay and watch after him, all right?”

  Butch looked up to Russell blankly. He peered back to Johnson who was sifting through the contents of the medical kit.

  Max skirted around Russell and bolted from the cabin.

  Russell nodded at Butch who stood in the middle of the cabin. The cane corso plopped down on his haunches, and obeyed Russell’s command.

  “Good boy.”

  The door closed behind Russell. He exhaled a deep breath of frustration. Johnson had a way of crawling under his skin with the slightest comment or gesture. Perhaps it was the fact that Russell knew he had a problem and was losing the battle in resisting the temptation. At that moment, with all things consider, it didn’t seem as big of an issue. Maybe it would help cure what ailed him.

  Russell secured the brown leather strap attached to the canteen across his body. He moved across the porch to the ground where Max was sniffing. His eyes couldn’t help but fix on the bottle of whiskey. The brown tinted liquor filled his gaze as his mouth watered on its own. Just looking at the bottle made him anxious with excitement. His tongue slid over his lips as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Temptation was a bitch. One that Russell was too weak to battle in his current state. The amount of stress racking him through and through was enough to make anyone want a drink.

  Screw it.

  Russell broke the seal and twisted the cap free of the bottle. The rich scent of the whiskey escaped the opening and filled his nose. He took a hefty swig of the potent liquor. His taste buds danced and rejoiced from the sweet, familiar taste splashing over his tongue and racing to his stomach.

  He removed the bottle from his lips, savoring the flavor of the spirit that helped ease his mind and steady his nerves. Johnson was right about one thing. Going cold turkey would only end in disaster, and there were plenty of disasters happening all around him already.

  For now, Russell would need to do whatever was necessary to not fall apart, physically or emotionally. When the time was right, and he was back with Sarah, then he’d tackle his demons. Until then, he needed their help and welcomed them inside.

  Russell took another swig from the bottle before securing the cap back on. Some restraint had to be shown. If he kept drinking, he’d polish it off in no time and that simply wouldn’t do. It was a means to an end, and he needed to stretch it out for as long as he could.

  Max milled about the open plot of grassy land before the bridge. His tail danced and swayed from side to side. His nose trained to the ground as if he was hot on a scent.

  The bottle of whiskey dangled between Russell’s fingers as he tracked him down. A warm, soothing sensation flooded his body as he skimmed over the woods and listened for any hints of the hunter or other threats. It was quiet, aside from the chirping of birds and the wind rustling the trees around them.

  “What do you think, boy. Are you missing Cathy?” Russell asked as he kneaded the crown of the German shepherd’s head.

  Max tilted his head back and glanced at Russell with his big, soulful eyes. His ears perked from hearing Cathy’s name, and his tongue flicked at Russell’s hand.

  “Yeah. Shouldn’t be too much longer, bud.” Russell patted his side, then strolled to the edge of the drop off near the bridge. The land seemed higher where he stood than where they were before. There was no gradual slope, but more of a straight drop to the bottom.

  Max stood at his side and toed the edge while glancing at the glistening stream.

  Russell evaluated his options. Trudging back to the spot where they climbed out would take more time. He wanted to stay close, get the water, and move on. Sitting down and getting too comfortable felt like a death sentence, as he feared his body wouldn’t want to get back up.

  The trees and bushes that lined the creek to his right hindered his view. There had to be an accessible way to the stream from where the cabin was. Why else would they have built it so close if there wasn’t?

  Russell stepped out onto the bridge and craned his neck. His hands wrapped around the tattered rope as he leaned forward. The creek slithered through the land, then cut sharply to the right with no visible way down to the water.

  “What do you think?” Russell asked Max.

  The German shepherd groaned, then sat on his haunches. He lifted his hind leg and tended to an itch that bit at his private area.

  “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

  On the far side of the creek, near the bend, Russell noticed a patch of dirt and rocks near the water. From where he stood, it looked wide enough for him to stand on and gather some water.

  “Come on, Max. I think I found our way down.”

  Russell trekked across the bridge to the other side with Max in tow. It swayed, but the ropes held. In the back of his mind, the hunter loomed as a wild card still in play. Russell hoped they had done a good enough job giving him the slip, but it was unclear if they had. They’d have to remain vigilant.

  Max ran past Russell as they hit dirt on the far side. He rummaged through the tall grass and bushes, then darted past Russell.

  The energizer bunny spawned inside Russell’s head as he watched Max zip about the wooded area. The German shepherd was full of energy that never waned. If Russell could syphon just a smidge of the rambunctious dog’s energy, it would do him a world of good.

  Russell walked the side of the creek while skimming over the dense woods. His free hand rested on the grip of the pistol as his other clutched the bottle.

  The sun took refuge behind the bloated clouds that seemed to follow no matter where they went. A hint of rain lingered in the air. A dark gloom blanketed the area, casting portions of the woods in an eerie gray hue.

  The mountain lion that almost stole his life after they first crashed came to mind. Its tawny fur was ingrained inside his mind as well as the sharp claws and fangs. He could still feel the pressure from the cat’s powerful jaws on his forearm.

  Russell shook the thought from his head and focused on the task at hand as he made the bend. He skirted past a tree and eyed the po
rtion of the creek bed he’d spotted from the bridge.

  Max trotted to his side.

  A flash of brown zipped down the tree about ten feet away. A low growl loomed from Max’s throat, followed by a bark. His body tensed as his ears stood on end. He honed in on the small mammal and inched forward.

  “Max, stay. It’s just a-” The canine took off after the squirrel in a dead sprint. He vanished into the grass, then the bushes. “Max. Get back here, now!”

  The stern warning did little good. The German shepherd was hot on the trail of the squirrel, leaving Russell alone. He didn’t have time to track him down, and he’d probably lose interest and be back before Russell got up top.

  Russell dropped the whiskey next to the base of the tree he stood by as he skimmed over the slope. He gave one final look to the area close by for an easier way down, but couldn’t find one. He contemplated waiting on the water, but wasn’t sure which way they were heading, or if Johnson needed any to dress his wound. Lugging the deputy any farther didn’t appeal to Russell either.

  All right, let’s get this done.

  Russell toed the edge and leaned forward. Footfalls tingled his ears. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He pulled the pistol from his waistband and spun around on the heels of his boots to find Tony rushing headlong at him.

  The hunter bulldozed through the grass. He tugged at the trigger, but the rifle didn’t respond. He flipped it around, then lifted it in the air. The hunter sneered and wielded the rifle like a baseball bat.

  Russell squeezed the trigger.

  Tony swung the rifle at Russell’s arm as fire spat from the barrel. The bullet went wide, grazing Tony’s jacket. The sidearm dropped from Russell’s hand.

  “You’re a dead man, pal,” Tony said. The hunter flipped the rifle about as Russell cradled his forearm. He slammed the buttstock into Russell’s stomach.

  Russell doubled over, then dropped to his knees. He struggled to breathe as pain lanced up his arm.

  “Who are you, and why did you kill my friend?” Tony asked as he trained the rifle at Russell’s head. “I saw the hole in Pete’s chest. You’re no hunter. That’s apparent from the way you’re dressed. Plus, you’re carrying a police-issued firearm.”

  Russell’s gaze flitted to Tony who had him dead to rights. A simple pull of the trigger and fragments of his head would paint the grass and dirt. He fought to catch his breath.

  Tony leaned forward and pressed the end of the barrel to Russell’s forehead. “Last time I’m going to ask. Who are you and why-”

  The grass thrashed behind Tony, pulling his attention away from Russell. Max charged from the thick blades with his maw open.

  Russell knocked the barrel of the rifle away from his head as the hunter tugged on the trigger again.

  The rifle discharged.

  A flash of fire breathed from the barrel.

  The thunderous explosion battered his ears as he lunged forward, spearing Tony in the stomach.

  Both men hit the ground hard.

  Russell mounted the hunter, then grabbed the rifle with both hands. Tony gnashed his teeth as his body wiggled under Russell’s weight.

  Max snapped at Tony’s arm and head. Tony tried to scoot away.

  “You made a big mistake here,” he said, through his clenched jaw. “You have no idea who you’re dealing… aah!”

  Max grabbed a chunk of Tony’s bicep and shook his head while tugging.

  Tony jerked his arm free of Max’s mouth, ripping the sleeve of his coat on the ravenous dog’s fangs. He lifted his hips into the air, then turned away from Max. Momentum threw Russell from the hunter’s waist to the grass. He rolled across the ground and over his pistol.

  A sharp yelp rang out which was dulled by the ringing in Russell’s left ear. He scooped up the pistol and got to his knees just as Tony brought his rifle to bear.

  “Don’t do it, pal,” Russell said, warning the hunter. The barrel lined up with Tony’s torso. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I have to.”

  Tony’s brow furrowed. His face twisted angrily as he glared at Russell. He hesitated for a moment with the rifle shouldered and the barrel trained just to the side of Russell’s chest.

  “You made a huge mistake here today. You’re nothing more than a dead man walking,” Tony said.

  Russell didn’t flinch from the idle threat, but dreaded what he feared was coming next. Tony showed no signs of yielding. He kept his rifle shouldered. The barrel of Russell’s pistol stayed fixed at the hunter. Neither man was willing to give up. Someone was going to die.

  Tony wrenched the rifle up.

  Russell squeezed the trigger.

  A single round fired from his pistol.

  The lone bullet struck the hunter in the upper right shoulder.

  Tony yelled out in pain as he fell back onto the ground. The rifle fell from his hands to the grass. He palmed his shoulder.

  Max stalked the man.

  “No. Leave him be,” Russell said.

  The German shepherd looked to Russell, then back to Tony while growling.

  Russell sprang into action. The pistol trembled in his hand as he trained the weapon at Tony. He grabbed the hunter’s rifle and tossed it to the creek bed.

  The radio on his hip crackled with more stressed voices speaking through the white noise. It was unclear of their position, but waiting around any longer wasn’t an option. They had to keep moving.

  “When the boss man catches up to you, he’s going to skin you alive,” Tony said. “You better kill me now because if you don’t, I’m-”

  Russell slammed the pistol into the side of Tony’s head, stopping his rambling and idle threats.

  Max sniffed his body, and kept watch for any sudden movements.

  Russell ripped the radio from Tony’s belt, then tossed it to the creek with the rifle. He hated the fact that he was forced to shoot another man, but doing so had saved Russell’s life.

  A dense thumping stalked Russell from behind. He spun around, and took aim at whatever was charging his way.

  Butch was closing in fast. The cane corso had his head lowered and eyes fixed on Tony’s motionless body.

  “Hey. You all right?” Johnson asked from across the creek, parts of his body concealed by the bushes and trees that rimmed the edge.

  Russell lowered the pistol and exhaled as Butch licked at his face. “Yeah. I’m good, but we need to move. More might be coming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SARAH

  The silence was deafening and did little to stay Sarah’s nerves. Every thought she had repressed came spilling out all at once—a wave of painful emotions she couldn’t contain any longer.

  Sarah sat on the razor thin mattress with her back against the wall. A long, lost look filled her shiny eyes as she stared off into space. Streams of hopeless tears raced down her warm, flushed cheeks. She didn’t want to die in that building, or have something more sinister happen to her or Mandy.

  The lantern on the beaten desk across from her flickered. It acted as though it could go at any minute, and cast her into utter darkness. That would be icing on the cake.

  The back of Sarah’s head gently rapped against the wall as she tried to remain strong and figure out what her next move was going to be. She had no real weapons of any kind.

  Her Glock was taken by Man-bun in Mandy’s apartment, and her purse was M.I.A. She couldn’t remember where she last had it, but it didn’t matter much now.

  The back of her hand wiped away the tears from both eyes as she scooted off the cot. The springs creaked and popped as Sarah slid toward the edge. Her shoes pressed to the floor. Both arms rested on the soft parts of her knees.

  A heavy sigh fled her lips. She didn’t know what to do with herself to keep her mind occupied. Despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on her current situation.

  Sarah cursed Mandy under her breath while picking at the ends of her dirty fingernails. Why couldn’t she just be quiet, a
nd follow the rules?

  That was rich considering what Sarah had done in Mandy’s apartment, and how it got David killed. It was a painful lesson in when to shut up.

  Russell squeezed his way into the front of her mind, edging Mandy out. He was always there. Sarah longed to see him again. To reconnect and try to work things out.

  The way she acted toward him, distant and like she didn’t care, was just her way of coping with the muddled mess. Deep down, where no one could see, Sarah wanted him back in her life. Given her current predicament, though, and Russell missing God knew where, any sort of reconciliation could be too little, too late.

  Chatter from beyond the door grabbed Sarah’s attention. The silence allowed voices to carry through the walls of her room. She couldn’t make out what was being said, or how many people there were.

  Sarah stood from the cot and stared at the door. The lantern flickered, then dimmed some more. The candle’s glow lessened, and cast the room further into darkness. Shadows slithered along the walls like demons. An eerie feeling made Sarah clutch her jacket and pull it tighter.

  The voices beyond the room grew louder. It sounded as though they were on the other side of the far wall roaming the hall. Her heart thumped harder. The thought of the vile men coming back made her skin crawl. She had no plans of antagonizing them, but she wasn’t opposed to defending herself if it came to that.

  The desk. It had to have something of use in the drawers. A pencil, pen, or something of the sort she could use as a stabbing weapon. Anything would do.

  Sarah rushed to the desk and sifted through the drawers. Time was of the essence not only because of her abductors, but because the lantern’s dull glow was waning. Soon, it would be out.

  The shadows clinging over the desk made it difficult to see. Sarah grabbed the lantern and pulled it closer. She stooped down and squinted as her fingers rummaged through the array of office supplies that were knocked about the steel drawer.

  She slammed the middle door shut, then moved to the one to the right. The noise of metal on metal made her cringe, then freeze. Sarah expected heavy footsteps to tromp her way, but none came.