The cars drew closer to the SUV, sandwiching the large rig between.
“Hold on.” Russell shifted his gaze from the passenger-side mirror to the driver’s side.
“What for?” Clyde shot back, with a raised brow. “You’re not going to do something stupid that could get us killed, are you?”
“Maybe.”
The sedans crashed into both sides of the SUV. The bodies of the cars ground against the Suburban’s white painted exterior. Metal crunched and groaned.
The steering wheel vibrated under Russell’s hands. He gritted his teeth and focused on the road ahead. His foot kept the gas pedal smooshed to the floor as they passed through another dead signal.
“Whatever your crazy ass plan is, now might be a good time to do it,” Clyde said, flinching with each impact.
The sedan next to Russell pulled away to avoid a head-on collision with a large, four-door Dodge truck heading straight for it. The truck’s horn bellowed while passing between the two vehicles. The car on the passenger side pulled away and sped up, trying to get in front of them.
“All right, hold on,” Russell said through strained breath.
The black sedan cut across the road at max speed, looking to ram the SUV once more.
Russell slammed the brakes.
The tires locked and squealed.
The Suburban stopped on a dime in the middle of the city street.
The two sedans collided before them. The impact jolted both vehicles and slowed each down.
Russell hit the gas.
The engine revved.
The Suburban surged forward, closing in on both of the sedans. The front bumper of the SUV rammed the black car first. It swayed from side to side, then darted toward a parked Jeep near the sidewalk.
Brake lights flashed bright as the driver tried to steer clear of the Jeep. It slammed into the back end of the off-road vehicle, head-on.
“Take a right up here at the intersection,” Amber said, from the back seat, pointing out the windshield.
The last remaining sedan straightened out, almost clipping the back end of a parked car.
Russell eyed the intersection, then the speedometer that surged past fifty-five. He glanced at the sedan ahead of them that tried to cut in front of the rig. Russell pumped the brake, slowing the Suburban down, then cut the steering wheel clockwise.
The sedan pulled in front of the SUV, but the back-driver’s side caught the front bumper. Russell wrenched the steering wheel further, forcing the sedan sideways.
The driver peered out of the window at the windshield of the Suburban, his face framed in a portrait of terror. His hands spun the steering wheel, trying to regain control of the vehicle.
Russell hooked around the curb and drove down the street Amber told him to take. He peered in the rearview mirror, watching the sedan come to a screeching halt shy of slamming into the thick, steel signal post.
“Hopefully, that will buy us some time,” he said, glancing to Clyde, then to the back seat.
“Take the next alley up here on your left,” Amber said, holding Cathy close. “The street ahead has had numerous riots going on last I heard. We don’t want to get caught up in that.”
“You know where we’re trying to get back to, right?” Russell asked, watching for the opening to the alleyway. He tilted his head toward Clyde. “We left his truck in a parking garage. Do you remember what street that was?”
Clyde kept a firm grip on the handle, then looked over at Russell. “I don’t remember the exact street name, only the way we went. I’m kind of lost now. There’s the alley she mentioned.”
Russell pumped the brake, and spun the steering wheel counterclockwise, slowing the large rig down enough to take the narrow opening to the passage. The driver side front tire clipped the curb, then the back, jostling everyone in their seats.
A small crowd of people wielding an array of blunt weapons and wearing bandannas to cover their faces materialized from around the blind corner of the building at the end of the intersection. They charged toward the suburban, rushing down the sidewalk in a dead sprint.
“Good call on taking the alley,” Clyde said, relieved.
“I told Amber what parking garage the truck is in,” Cathy said, in a weakened tone. “Trust her. She knows Philly like the back of her hand. She’ll get us there.”
Russell navigated the narrow space as best he could. The front end of the Suburban plowed through trash cans and a vast battery of other random junk. He had little room to maneuver past the trash, and was unable to spare the SUV the punishment it took.
The sedan passed the entrance to the alleyway, then stopped. It backed up, turned, then drove into the corridor.
“Man, these guys are tenacious,” Russell said, sighing while looking to the rearview mirror. “Where to next?”
“Take a right at the street ahead,” Amber said without missing a beat. “Then take the next alley you see. That’ll put us close to the parking garage.”
A silver trash can smashed into the front of the SUV. The garbage inside erupted into the air. The two black trash bags split open, dumping the waste contained within all over the hood and windshield.
“Oh, Christ. What is that on the windshield?” Clyde asked, scrunching his nose in disgust.
“No clue, but glad it’s out there.” Russell felt around the column of the steering wheel for the wipers.
Juices dribbled down the glass from the scattered bits of waste, making it hard to see what was ahead. He turned and twisted nobs until the wipers came on, smearing the liquid and other waste on the windshield.
The sedan tore down the alley at full tilt, skirting past most of the spilt garbage and other debris littering the pavement. The black trash bags lying in the middle of the alley caught the front bumper, then rolled under the car.
Russell glanced at the rearview mirror, then back to the end of the alleyway. His hands repositioned over the steering wheel–foot pressed to the gas.
A large, green dumpster ahead sat away from the wall, reducing the amount of space between it and the building across from it. Smoke plumed from the interior.
“Uh, that’s going to be a tight fit,” Clyde said, unsure. “Can you thread us through it?”
Russell didn’t let up on the gas. He charged the opening without reaching for the brake. The sedan following them hadn’t let up, and neither could he.
“We’re going to make it through.” He worked the steering wheel from side to side and focused on nothing but the gap.
The sedan closed in.
Max barked a warning, letting everyone know that danger had found them.
The Suburban drew close to the side of the wall. The outside edge of the mirror scraped along the rigid brick surface.
“I don’t think it’s going to make it.” Clyde’s voice rose in volume as they approached the tight opening.
Russell pulled closer to the wall. The brick scraped the black plastic surface of the mirror. Every bump and ridge within the building hammered the mirror.
The passenger-side mirror struck the corner of the waste container. A loud boom filled the cab. It snapped off and fell to the pavement.
Clyde flinched, then leaned away from the window.
Amber and Cathy gasped in the back seat.
Max barked, then stopped.
Russell wrenched the steering wheel, pulling the SUV away from the wall. He glanced to the rearview mirror, watching the sedan thread it’s narrow body through the gap.
The passenger side tires ran over the broken mirror. The driver and passenger focused their narrowed eyes on the SUV.
A car passed the entrance of the alley, causing Russell to pump the brake. The Suburban slowed, allowing the sedan to overtake it. It rammed the back bumper, nudging the large rig out into the street.
Russell cut the wheel hard, sending the SUV in a tight turn past a parked car that had been vandalized. The passenger side missed the damaged vehicle by a scant inch.
The se
dan followed the SUV out into the street, but took the blind corner too close and fast. The front-right bumper slammed the back end of the car, bringing it to a grinding halt.
Russell glanced to the rearview mirror, and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Hopefully, that’s the last we see of them.”
CHAPTER THREE
SARAH
The pain grew with each second that ticked by—a never-ending torture that wouldn’t let up.
“How are you holding up back there?” Spencer asked, peering over his shoulder, then glancing back to the road.
Sarah gnashed her teeth and groaned. “My side burns. Feels like someone’s stuffed a hot coal inside me.”
“The bullet shouldn’t be inside of you,” Spencer said, driving full tilt down the highway. “Keep pressure on it, and we’ll stop here shortly, so I can take a better look at it.”
“Are you some sort of… medic… as well?”
Spencer shook his head. “No. I’m not a medic, but I’ve had experience in digging out bullets and tending to such wounds.” He grabbed the rearview mirror, and adjusted it back and forth, keeping his gaze focused on the road ahead and behind them. “You do it enough, you pick up a few things. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well cared for. That’s all I ever wanted for you. I hope you know that.”
Sarah scooted toward the front seats, then peered down to the floorboard behind the passenger-side seat. She blinked away the tears coating her vision, and spotted what looked to be a pistol. Her free hand dug into each socket and rubbed. She looked through the opening between the seats at Spencer who focused on the road.
“So, I guess… there’s no chance in me being… able to talk you into… letting me go, is there?”
“That wouldn’t be wise, especially now with you being injured,” Spencer answered without looking at her. “Even though Kinnerk, Bryce, and his right-hand thug are dead, that still leaves the worst of the bunch to contend with. Valintino.”
Sarah reached to the murk of the floorboard with her free hand, and felt around for the pistol. The tips of her bloody fingers grazed over the hard plastic of the weapon. The fiery ache plaguing her side wouldn’t subside, but the will to survive and escape the clutches of Spencer trumped the pain.
“Do you think Valintino will still come after me even with the others dead?” Sarah pulled the compact pistol from the floor while keeping Spencer in her sight.
“There’s a chance he–” Spencer adjusted his backside in the driver’s seat, then grabbed the rearview mirror once more.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, sitting up straight. She hid the gun under her leg while biting her lip, trying to muffle the cries of pain that wanted to slip from her mouth.
“I thought I spotted an SUV back down the road from the way we came. It’s probably nothing. I’m just paranoid is all.” Spencer turned, and glanced back to Sarah. “What are you doing? You need to stay still and rest.”
Sarah dipped her chin, then removed her hand from her side. “Kind of hard to relax at the moment.”
Spencer looked at her side, then back up to her pain-stricken face. “I must say, you never cease to amaze me, Sarah.”
“How do I amaze you?” Sarah asked, raising her brow.
“You’re not weak or fragile. You’re a strong, competent woman who can handle herself rather well.” Spencer scanned the blind curves of the road ahead and the few houses they passed. “That’s one of the many reasons I like you so much. I mean, when Bryce’s men chased you into that abandoned building on the pier in Boston, you jumped from that window into that dumpster without much thought. That took guts.”
Sarah slid her hand next to her leg while keeping her focus on Spencer. “Yeah, well, I would have rather not done that, but seeing as I had a couple psychopaths chasing me, I didn’t have a choice.”
Spencer looked to the rearview mirror and narrowed his eyes. “I wish you would see what I see about you. About us. As I’ve said, you mean the world to me, and I only want to take care of you. I can do a far better job than that deadbeat drunk you call a husband. If he would’ve done his job and been strong enough, perhaps he could’ve saved your daughter from being killed.”
“Don’t you dare mention Jess or Russell.” Sarah’s nostrils flared with anger. Her lips pursed; brow furrowed in rage. She grabbed the grip of the compact pistol, leaned forward, slipped the gun between the windows and driver seat, and pressed the barrel against his temple.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked in a raised voice. He turned his head to the side to look at her.
Sarah shoved the gun harder into his skull. “Eyes on the road. Keep those hands on the steering wheel, and don’t try anything stupid, or I will squeeze this trigger.”
Her breathing was labored. Each movement caused her pain. Sweat populated her brow and raced down both sides of her face.
“Come now, Sarah. There is no need for this,” Spencer said, doing as she instructed. “What’s your plan here? You pull that trigger, we run off the road and crash. You’ll die or be injured. There isn’t much traffic on the roads, and no telling how long you’d suffer before dying or having someone stop. Even then, proper care is far away from where we are.”
“Perhaps I’d rather die than be at your mercy,” Sarah replied, coughing.
Spencer looked at her through the rearview mirror. “You don’t mean that. Besides, I don’t want to hurt you. Just lower the gun and calm down. I’m not letting you go.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Sarah, listen to me. This isn’t the–” Spencer gripped the steering wheel tighter.
A loud crunching noise from the rear of the sedan filled the inside of the car. The car jolted. Sarah’s head snapped back. Her grip on the pistol loosened, then fell from her hand. It clanged off the armrest of the driver’s-side door, then vanished to the floorboard.
The sedan swerved, crossing into the opposite lane. The tires squealed. Spencer worked the steering wheel from side to side, trying to bring the vehicle back into the correct lane.
Sarah groaned, slouching in the back seat while palming her side.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“More bad guys,” Spencer replied, peering over his shoulder. “Looks like it could be Valintino’s men. I guess he didn’t want to rely on Bryce or Kinnerk to deliver you, and decided to have his men finish things once and for all. They must’ve been close by or something.”
Sarah reached for the driver’s seat and grabbed the edge of the stiff leather. Her fingers dug into the material. She pulled herself forward, then looked out through the back window.
Muzzle flashes filled her gaze from the black GMC SUV trailing them. Bullets punched the rear of the sedan. A scream of panic fled her lips. She sunk into the seat, covering her head.
“Christ.” Spencer flinched and ducked. He looked back at Sarah, then to the window. “I think they’re trying to shoot out the back tires. You good back there?”
“About as good as I can be,” Sarah answered, keeping low.
“Good, Stay out of sight. I’m going to try and lose them. Hold on.” Spencer spun the steering wheel, taking the turn leading to the on-ramp at full speed.
Sarah slid across the leather seat behind Spencer, slamming into the door. The sedan made a wide arch, plowing through the grass as he headed up the ramp.
The reports of gunfire had ceased for the moment. The panicked breaths leaving Spencer’s mouth indicated they hadn’t lost the SUV yet.
The sedan’s engine revved louder, increasing with each second that ticked by. The car rocked back and forth, responding to each jerk of the wheel.
Sarah felt around the floorboard for the compact pistol, but couldn’t find it. She struggled to stabilize herself. Her backside slid over the seat, amplifying the pain in her side.
Spencer laid on the horn, then yelled some choices words in a loud, demented roar. “These guys are not backing off.”
“This
Valintino guy must want me badly,” Sarah said, bracing her foot against the door.
“I imagine you’re not the only one he’s after,” Spencer said, through strained breath. “He’s probably got a hit out on me as well for causing so many problems. Oh shit!”
The sedan cut hard toward the shoulder of the road. Sarah caught a glimpse of a truck in front of them. She pressed her hand against Spencer’s seat with her foot resting on the door.
Spencer looked to the rearview mirror, then over his shoulder. “That should buy us some time to vanish.”
Sarah struggled to pull herself up from the seat. It took every bit of strength she had to sit up straight. She turned and stared out the back window of the sedan.
The SUV was in the grass, facing the way they came. It rocked back and forth, trying to get free of the shallow ditch it had fallen into. For now, she had slipped through the henchmen’s fingers, leaving only Spencer for Sarah to contend with.
CHAPTER FOUR
RUSSELL
The Suburban raced through the turmoil of a crumbling society, avoiding any hot spots. Russell took Amber’s directions, sticking to the narrow alleyways and side streets that led back to the parking garage.
“I think we lost them for good,” Clyde said, gulping while peering over the seat to the back window.
Russell eased off the gas some, but kept the bulky SUV running at a good clip down the street. His gaze shifted to the mirrors every few seconds, searching for any vehicles stalking them. He wiped the sweat populating his brow away, then took hold of the steering wheel once more.
The rioters, looters, and thugs they spotted earlier had all but left the area, though, the damage caused by the populace remained. Trash littered the sidewalks. Buildings smoldered from the fires that ate away at the brick structures.
Cars parked along the sides of the street had sustained catastrophic damage. Some had been set on fire and burned to their steel skeletons while others had been ravaged by blunt weapons that busted out windows, and dented the bodies of the vehicles.
Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back Page 2
