Clyde shook his head, and chewed his nails at the devastation around them. “I hope to God they didn’t torch or damage any vehicles in that damn garage.”
Russell pointed out the windshield. “I guess we’ll find out here in a second.”
“There’s no smoke, so that’s a good sign.” Clyde leaned forward in his seat, studying the entrance to the parking garage they closed in on. “They better have left my truck alone.”
“It’ll be fine.” Russell slowed and turned into the entrance of the parking garage. He checked the rearview mirror one last time for the sedan as they climbed the embankment to the first level of the garage.
The thrumming engine echoed in the space. The tires turning and gripping the ground loomed large inside the silent cab of the Suburban.
Clyde craned his neck, struggling to see past the cars parked at the corner of the lot. There didn’t appear to be any damage on the vehicles. They skirted the blind corner and made their way down to the Silverado.
A handful of shadowy figures lurked about the more expensive vehicles parked close to the truck. Russell switched on the headlights, flashing the high beams at the masked thugs huddled around both sides of the high-end cars.
“I freaking knew something was going to happen,” Clyde said, his voice thick with anger.
The four vandals froze at the car, turned, and looked at the approaching SUV. They wielded crowbars and slim jims as far as Russell could see in the low light.
He stopped the Suburban a few cars before the unscrupulous thugs. The high beams of the headlights shone on them. They stared at the idling vehicle for a moment, then moved away from the car.
“Screw this.” Clyde opened his door, and stepped down to the ground.
“Hold on a minute,” Russell said, but his words fell on deaf ears as Clyde slammed the door shut.
A rush of panic consumed the four men. They back peddled, and ran toward to the other end of the parking garage.
Clyde moved around the side of the Suburban, wielding his pistol.
Russell looked to the back seat at Amber and Cathy. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”
Amber nodded, then glanced out of the back seat windows.
Cathy didn’t respond, lying still next to her daughter.
Max groaned from the rear of the SUV, pacing the small space and staring out of the wide window.
Russell pushed the driver’s-side door open, then hopped down to the ground. He moved past the edge of the door, and closed it behind him.
Clyde swept the cars parked near the Silverado for anymore threats lurking within the shadows between the vehicles. He crept closer to his truck, then lowered his pistol.
“Is it all right?” Russell asked, training the Ruger at the ground. His finger rested against the trigger guard as he advanced past the small sports car the four men had surrounded.
“Looks fine as far as I can tell.” Clyde ran his hand over the hood of the truck, then moved toward the driver’s side.
Russell peered back to the Suburban, spotting the interior light shining and Amber climbing into the driver’s seat. She drove up next to the truck, stopped, then lowered the window.
“Is his truck all right?” Amber asked, scanning the vehicle.
“Looks like it. We may have arrived before they had a chance to break in to it.” Russell watched Clyde open the driver’s side door. “Be right back.”
Clyde sat behind the wheel while Russell opened the passenger door to the truck.
“Well?” he asked, watching Clyde inspect the interior. “Looks just as we left it. I didn’t see anything odd over here.”
“I think we’re good. Still need some fuel, though, but other than that, I don’t see any other issues.” Clyde sighed in relief. “I’m glad they didn’t touch my ride. That would not have worked out well for them.”
“Or us,” Russell shot back. “What’s the fuel status again?”
Clyde tapped his finger against the gauge. “Not great. When we dropped it off, that red needle was hugging empty. We’ll be able to squeeze some more miles out of it, but we’ll need to find some gas fast. The last thing I want to do is run out in this damn city.”
Russell skimmed over the cars nearby. “Do you have any way of being able to syphon any gas from the vehicles around us? Might not be a bad idea to do so while we have the chance, though, we’ll need to keep an eye out for those thugs who tried to steal the truck. I think the odds of us finding a gas station that’s working and without any trouble lurking close by is going to be slim to none.”
Clyde tapped his finger against his pursed lips, then rubbed the scruff growing from his square chin. “You know, I think I have a tube in the bed I can use to fill the gas can I’ve got back there. I managed to top off the truck when all of this first went down and filled my gas can up. Haven’t had to mess with thinking about getting additional fuel until recently.”
“Good deal. Grab the gas can and tube, and we’ll get what gas we need,” Russell said.
“Sounds good.” Clyde slipped out of the driver’s seat to the pavement as Russell slammed his door. Clyde moved to the bed of the truck, and shone his light inside.
“What’s he doing?” Amber asked, pointing at the light.
“His truck needs gas. We’re going to see if we can syphon off some from one of these cars in here before we head out.” Russell nodded at the Suburban. “We can leave this here if you want. There’s enough room in the truck.”
Amber peered to the back seat where Cathy sat. “I’d rather take this. Mom can keep her leg elevated and will have plenty of room without having Max bothering her or stepping on her leg.”
“Is she still holding up all right?” Russell took a step toward the back-passenger window.
“I’m… well enough, Cage,” Cathy said, in a weak, curt tone. “Just get done what you need to so we can get back on the move.”
Amber looked at Russell, shook her head, then rolled her eyes. “That woman is so stubborn at times.”
“Agreed,” Russell replied, shaking his head.
“I can hear what you’re saying,” Cathy said. “I’m not deaf.”
“You were meant to, Mom,” Amber shot back, glancing over her shoulder.
Russell patted the bottom of the window. “We’ll get this done as fast as we can, then we’ll get back on the move. Keep an eye out for any trouble. You see anything, honk the horn.”
Amber nodded.
Clyde walked out from in front of the Silverado with a red plastic gas can and a dingy clear plastic hose in his hands. He lifted both items in the air, showing Russell. “Found a hose that might work. Guess we’ll find out if it does or not.”
“Have you ever done this before?” Russell skirted past the front end of the Suburban and the Silverado, approaching Clyde.
“I haven’t. Doesn’t seem too complicated, though,” Clyde answered, looking at the hose. “Slip one end into the gas tank and suck on the other until fuel comes out. I’m not keen on tasting gas and would rather grab a pump, and do it that way.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have much of a choice,” Russell replied, scanning the cars parked near them. “I guess it doesn’t matter on the car we syphon the gas from, does it?”
Clyde shrugged. “This is your idea. I have no clue. I’d think as long as it isn’t diesel fuel, we should be fine.”
“What side of the truck is your gas tank on?” Russell faced the Silverado, squinted, and skimmed over the passenger side of the vehicle.
“It’s on the driver’s side,” Clyde answered.
Russell craned his neck, looking past Clyde, and scanning the car parked next to the truck. “Let’s see what fuel we can get out of that. How much can that gas can hold? It looks like a five gallon or so.”
Clyde lifted the red container up and glanced over the sides. “Yeah. I think it’s around there.”
The sharp reports of more gunfire tainted the air. It sounded faint, but it kept both of them on edge a
nd searching for the source.
“Let’s get as much as we can, then we’ll haul ass out of here.” Russell turned and looked toward the far end of the parking garage they came in through.
Clyde carried the gas can and hose to the car, and shone his light on the vehicle.
Russell waved his hand at Amber, pointed at the Suburban, then moved the edge of his hand across his throat.
Amber nodded and killed the engine.
“So, we have an issue here.” Clyde stood on the far side of the car, shinning his light at Russell.
“What’s the problem?”
Clyde trained the light at the side of the car, then said, “There’s no notch or way of opening it from the outside. It’s one of those that you have to open from inside the vehicle itself.”
Russell walked around the front of the car, and examined the square door covering the gas cap. “That sucks. If we try to open it from the inside, the alarm is going to go off. That will draw undo attention to us.”
“Yeah and I have no clue how to disable an alarm like that. Do you?”
“Nope.” Russell rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “We’re going to have to do something. We can’t stand idle for too long. We can check a few more of these cars that are close by, or just leave and see what we can find on the move.”
Clyde sighed, then shrugged. “All right. Let’s search some of these cars, then.”
The duo split up and fanned out, checking each vehicle around the Silverado.
The various sounds of gunshots, sirens, and other unsettling noises added to the mound of pressure weighing on their shoulders. It did little to help the situation.
“I’ve got one here,” Clyde called out from the side of a Jeep parked three spots down from the truck.
Russell jogged past the vehicle’s front end, then followed the light shining from the driver’s side.
Clyde had the gas can on the ground with the cap taken off. The square door covering the gas cap was open. He twisted the cap, and let it dangle next to the Jeep.
“Now, let’s hope there’s enough fuel in the tank to make this worthwhile,” he said, placing the end of the flashlight into his mouth, then feeding one end of the tube into the tank.
Russell held out his hand and reached for the light. “Here. I’ll hold the flashlight. You’re going to need your mouth to get it going.”
Clyde turned his head toward Russell, allowing him to take it. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d volunteer to do this.”
“Looks like you’ve got it under control.” Russell trained the light at the Jeep’s gas tank.
“If you want to call it that, then sure.” Clyde held the other end of the hose near his mouth. “Here goes nothing.”
“Remember. Don’t swallow it.”
“You think?” Clyde sucked on the end of the hose for a few seconds. The sides of his cheeks sucked in. He coughed a moment later, removed the hose from his mouth, than shoved the end into the top of the gas can.
Fuel spewed from his lips. He gagged from the taste. His tongue dangled from his mouth as the gasoline funneled out from the Jeep into the gas can.
“Nice job.” Russell stooped down, and trained the light at the opening of the gas can. “Sounds like it’s flowing pretty good.”
Clyde spit a few more times, then ran his lips over the sleeve of his shirt. “I do believe next time it’ll be your turn to do this.”
“It seems like you’re doing an amazing job so far.”
“Whatever.”
Russell snickered, then stood up. He moved to the front of the Jeep and looked to the Suburban. The headlights had been turned off, shrouding the area in low light.
The dismal gray sky and smoke that hung over the city kept the sun’s rays at bay. The lack of natural light made the parking garage more ominous.
“How’s Cathy holding up?” Clyde asked, holding the hose and resting his forearm against the side of the Jeep.
“She’s still in pain, but she’s hanging in there,” Russell replied. “Saying she is tough is an understatement.”
“Or foolish. I mean, I get why she powered through to find her daughter, I would’ve done the same thing for my wife, but she really needs to get some proper medical care at some point.” Clyde studied the fuel pouring into the gas can. “This is still going strong, and the can is almost full. I’m going to cut it off, and add it to the Silverado real quick.”
Russell tilted his head in agreement. “Sounds good. That’s five gallons we didn’t have a bit ago.”
The sound of a vehicle driving through the parking garage caught their attention. Russell turned away from Clyde, then peered in the direction of the street that ran in front of the entrance.
“You don’t think it’s them, do you?” Clyde asked, looking through the driver’s side window of the Jeep.
“I don’t know. Get the gas to the Silverado,” Russell replied.
Clyde pinched near the end of the hose in the gas can, then pulled the tip out. Fuel spilt down the sides of the container and ground. The potent fumes permeated the air.
“Christ.” Clyde shook his hand, then removed the hose from the gas tank of the Jeep.
Russell adjusted his hold on the grip of the Ruger, then moved around the front end of the Jeep. He trained the light past the Suburban, watching the corner at the other end.
A loud cough echoed in the parking garage. Clyde walked past him, shaking his head while hauling the fuel to the Silverado.
“Here.” Russell gave him the flashlight.
“Thanks.” Taking the light, Clyde continued on to his truck, and Russell followed.
Amber poked her head out of the driver’s side window; staring at him. “What is it?”
“Probably nothing. I’m going to check down here real quick. Clyde’s adding gas to the Silverado right now. When he’s done, we’re going to leave.” Russell stopped near her window.
“Did you get enough?” Amber asked.
Max groaned from the back of the SUV. He barked, then groaned some more.
“About five gallons worth. It’ll have to do for now. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to get us out of the city.” Russell looked her way. “Be ready to move.”
Amber gulped, then adjusted her backside in the seat. Her hands grabbed at the steering wheel, and she turned the headlights back on.
Russell jogged past the back of the Suburban. Max pawed at the large window. His barks were muffled, offering subtle hints of the anxious canine’s desire to be out of the confined space.
The sound of the vehicle driving through the parking garage ebbed. Russell kept the Ruger at his side with his finger near the trigger. A worried feeling draped over his shoulders like a weighted blanket. He couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the unsettling sensation, other than the vehicle that had now left the garage, but the feeling remained.
He kept close to the cars, approaching the blind corner that led to the street below where they’d entered not too long ago. Russell brought the Ruger to bear, training it ahead of him. He crept past the bumper of a four-door sedan, and peered at the ramp leading to the street, finding nothing more than empty space.
Headlights flashed through the murk of the garage on the other side of the entrance. The sound of an engine thrummed.
Russell turned, and faced the bright beam, training the Ruger in its direction. He lowered and took cover behind the trunk of the sedan, watching and studying the vehicle as it drove toward him. His tongue slid across his dry, coarse lips, eyes focused on the approaching car.
The lights grew brighter.
Russell’s nerves twisted. His finger slipped inside the trigger guard, ready to pull. He gulped down the angst lodged in his throat.
The sedan slowed, then cut around the concrete wall of the parking garage leading to the street. It rolled down the ramp, then vanished from sight.
Russell lowered the Ruger, relieved that his paranoia was ill founded. He exhaled, then shook his head.
The wear on his
mind and body grew by the day. Each new encounter with unscrupulous thugs and deviant individuals frayed his nerves, leaving him on edge.
He turned away from the parking garage entrance, placed his back flush against the bumper of the car, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. The sounds of chaos looming from every inch of the city bombarded him. He closed his eyes, took two deep breaths, then exhaled through his nose.
Russell peered up at the Suburban, and fished out the small bottle of liquor from his pants. He twisted the top off, licked his lips, then brought the brown-tinted liquid closer to his mouth.
The rich scent of the whiskey filled his nose. He sucked in the fumes. The edge of the bottle pressed to his lips, but he didn’t take a drink.
You’re stronger than this, Russell said to himself. Remember, you have people who are counting on you. Don’t mess it up or let them down again.
A horn honked in the direction of the Suburban.
Russell lowered the bottle from his mouth, then looked to the SUV. Clyde stood next to the driver’s side, waving his arm at him. He glanced at the small whiskey bottle one last time, screwed the cap on the top, then stood up.
The bottle of liquor went back into the front pocket of his jeans. Russell made his way to the others, walking fast.
Clyde spoke with Amber at the driver’s-side window. He looked to Russell, then asked, “Everything all right down there?”
“Yeah. Just paranoid I guess,” Russell said. “Did you get the fuel inside the Silverado?”
Clyde peered over his shoulder, then pointed at the truck. “I got what I could inside the gas tank. It was a bit challenging dumping the fuel from the gas can. Some of it spilt out on the side of the truck and on me, but we should be all right for a bit. We’ll still need to do this again once we’re clear of the city.”
“Agreed.” Russell looked to Amber. “You still want to take this rig? We can all load up in the truck. Cathy can take the front seat if need be. I think it would be safer to be in one car.”
Amber shook her head. “No. She’ll have more room back here to rest. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “We shouldn’t–”
Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back Page 3
