“Some. Is that a crime?” Russell countered without thinking. It was a snide comment he wished he hadn’t made. He was still amped up on adrenaline and booze.
“No, but until we get to the bottom of this, we’re taking you two down to the station to cool off.” The cop held his hands together as he fumbled with the cuffs on the side of his hip. He pulled them free and slapped them onto each of Russell’s wrists.
CHAPTER TWO
SARAH
The mounting loss of sleep had taken its toll. It was a fight that was lost more times than won. Insomnia was a bitch, no matter how you sliced it.
Sarah laid in bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling of her two-bedroom duplex for the better part of the night. The last time she checked, it was after midnight. Minutes passed like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. She was helpless to stop it. She hated feeling that way, despite how hard she tried to turn the tide.
Being alone sucked.
She missed the warmth of a body next to her. The feeling of strong arms draped over her curvy frame in the dead of night that held her tight and made the world seem less scary. And, as she had learned, it was indeed a dreadful place.
Damn you, Russell. Why couldn’t you have just tried a bit harder?
Sarah hated giving up, and pushing him away, but when one was at the end of one’s rope, what else could one do?
The fight had been beaten out of her. Not physically, but emotionally. She felt dead inside. Besides, she was in competition against a formidable foe.
Tall, slender, and full of color, she paled in comparison to the rich taste of the poison Russell drowned himself on what seemed like a daily affair.
The grief of losing their daughter to that home intruder a year ago weighed heavily on everyone. It was a painful reality to accept, knowing that they’d never see her grow up into the amazing, young woman she was. The hardest part was not only losing her sweet girl, but the man she vowed to spend the rest of her life with.
Sarah squinted. Tears pushed out through the slits and rolled down either side of her flushed cheeks as she flipped over onto her side. She focused on the red hue of the digital clock on the oak nightstand like she was fixed in a trance.
Christ. It’s 1:23 now.
If she didn’t go to sleep soon, she’d pay for it in the morning.
Ding.
A text message dumped into Sarah’s phone. The screen lit up, casting a wide swath of bright light that illuminated the dark corner of her cramped bedroom.
Sarah blinked and looked away from the blinding light as she reached for the phone. Confusion swirled in her head. Who would be texting her this late?
Her first thought was Russell drunk texting some gibberish garbage that wouldn’t make any sense. Sarah couldn’t stand that, and she’d told him as much. It had been some time since he had done it. Actually, it had been a long while since she had heard from him all together. When she’d had enough and told him to leave her be, that was the last words they had spoken to one another.
The number looked unfamiliar. It was local to the city, though. Area code 617, but that didn’t mean much. Telemarketers were cunning with how they tried to get you on the phone to speak about your extended car warranty, but this late, it was doubtful that it was a telemarketer.
She thumbed the message, opening it up on the screen. It only took reading the first sentence to send a chill down Sarah’s spine.
Why are you ignoring me?
It was Spencer, or as Sarah called him, the Creeper. He was a guy from a blind date she was set up on by her best friend, Mandy. She nudged Sarah into it, which was something she wasn’t keen on. An innocent, friendly meetup with no expectations that had gone horribly wrong.
Spencer seemed nice enough at first, and acted the part of a polite and caring gentlemen, but when Sarah refused a second invite by the tall and reasonably good-looking guy, he changed. Like a Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde scenario, he was now one scary beast that lurked within the black matter of her brain. He refused to leave her alone.
A restraining order had to be put in place, and thus far, it had worked. He was sight unseen. Still, just the hint of his unsettling gaze made Sarah’s skin scrawl. For an added level of protection, she bought a gun and got her conceal carry. She had no intent of using it, but if push came to shove, she wouldn’t hesitate to draw the weapon, and pull the trigger.
Another message dropped, more visceral than the last. She looked away from the comment that made her sick to her stomach. Spencer wasn’t getting the hint which made Sarah both angry and fearful.
“LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE CONTACTING ME,” she typed, hoping he’d get the hint.
Sarah waited for a scathing response as she eyed the drawer of her nightstand. That’s where she kept her Glock 43—well within reach if she needed it.
Seconds ticked by with no reply.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She’d have to contact the police station during the day to inform them of what had transpired.
A disturbance from the rear of her house sent Sarah on edge. It sounded like the trash cans being knocked over. She gasped and tightened her fingers around the phone. Spencer was outside of her home.
Instinct kicked in as she yanked the drawer open to her nightstand. She didn’t have to look inside or shine any sort of light into the well-organized drawer. Her hand went right to the Glock that sat ready.
Sarah grabbed the grip and pulled the Glock out. She trained the barrel at the blackness that loomed beyond her open door. Her heart pressed against her chest; each thump more intense than the last. She sucked in a deep breath of air, and released it slowly. She swallowed the fear that washed over her, tossed the covers from her legs, and slipped out of the warmth of the sheets to the slight chill of her house. She kept a keen eye on the hallway as she made her way around the bed.
The wood floor creaked with every step she took. She cringed from the sharp noise. Her hand trembled with the Glock. The closer she got to the door, the faster her heart raced.
Sarah paused, thumbed through her phone, and switched on the flashlight. The back lit up and chased away the darkness. She toed the entrance to her bedroom, then peered around the jamb out into the silent hallway. No footsteps or other audible noises were heard. Still, she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until she swept her dwelling.
The stark white light washed over the cream-colored walls and the few photos she had up of her family. She peered into the second bedroom that was a cluttered mess of boxes, and other junk she hadn’t messed with since moving in. She craned her neck and swept the space.
Another clatter from outside drew Sarah’s attention back in the direction of the living room. She fought to control her breathing which escalated with every step she took. Terrible thoughts of Spencer lurking around her house played through her head. Him toying with her like some sick game of cat and mouse that she couldn’t escape.
Sarah tiptoed through the murk of the living room toward the modest dining room. Two large windows looked out over the small scale fenced in yard. The trash cans were lined against the fence on the far side which she should be able to see from the corner of the window.
The blinds covering the windows were closed. Sarah skirted around the small, round dining table. Her finger repositioned over the trigger of the Glock, ready to fire if need be.
She peered into the small kitchen that was adjacent to the dining room for any shadowy figures that might be lurking within the gloom. The light from her phone swept the dark-blue countertops and light oak cabinets. It was clear.
Sarah pressed her shoulder to the wall next to the window. Her fingers parted the wooden blinds as she peeked out into the backyard. She craned her neck, and scanned over the area where she kept her trash cans, hoping she wouldn’t find a dark clad figure lingering on her property.
There was no one there. The trash cans sat in the same spot she remembered leaving them. Perhaps she’d imagined it all. Afterall, lack of sleep co
uld play tricks on one’s mind.
The phone rang. Sarah jumped.
Christ.
She prayed it wasn’t Spencer as she flipped the phone around to see the screen. It was the Boston Police Department. What did they want?
She lowered the Glock and answered the call. “Hello?”
Her gaze danced over the living room and kitchen as she listened to the officer on the other end.
“Hey, Sarah, it’s David,” the officer said. He was a long-time family friend of hers and Russell’s.
“Hey. What’s going on? Everything all right?” she asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that Russell was brought in,” the officer said. “He got into a fight at a bar. He’s sleeping it off in a cell right now. He didn’t ask me to call you or anything like that. I just felt you should know and all.”
Her head hung low as she sighed in frustration. Russell was in trouble yet again.
Sarah wanted nothing to do with it. If he lacked the willpower to fight the temptress that was his vice, he needed to cool off for the night in a jail cell. Perhaps it would give him time to reflect on the life he was living. She doubted any revelation would come to him, but stranger things had happened.
“Thanks, David. Just leave him there. Perhaps it’ll do him some good.”
CHAPTER THREE
RUSSELL
Russell woke to a splitting headache that bored deep into his skull. It had been some time since he had been that wasted. He hadn’t missed it.
He was lying flat on his back. His bed felt hard and rigid. There was no pillow or sheets. No soft mattress that cradled him. Just a solid piece of wood that knotted the muscles in his back.
A stark light blasted him in the face as he fought to open his eyes. His hands shielded him from the harsh sunlight that forced him to look away. It took a moment for Russell to figure out where he was.
Jail. More so, the drunk tank.
“Long night, pal?” a raspy voice asked.
Russell grumbled in response. His legs fell from the wooden bench and dropped to the cement floor. He sat up and deflated against the cinder block wall. His head slumped back as his mouth slagged open.
“Yeah. You could say that,” Russell muttered.
The stink from the man was stout. He smelled as though he hadn’t bathed in forever. It was more than enough to bring Russell out of the drunken state he had been in.
“Who’s Jess?” the man inquired as Russell fought to get his bearings.
Russell squinted. His face twisted into a scowl, and his lips pursed as he stared at the homely looking man. “What did you say, old timer?”
The man’s eyes widened as he brought his unkempt hands up in the air. He scooted down the bench and away from Russell. “You were saying her name throughout the night. Just wondering who she was is all.”
“Cage,” a stern, authoritative voice barked from the other side of the cell.
Russell cut away from the hesitant drunk and stared at the officer. He stood up from the scarred wooden bench and schlepped toward him. Russell glanced back at the man with curious eyes as the cell door was unlocked.
“You’re free to go,” the officer stated as he swung the door open.
Russell left the cell and followed the officer out of the holding area. He gave the homeless man one last look before passing through the open doorway.
“For Christ’s sake, Russell,” a disappointed voice harped from behind. “I thought we were past this.”
Russell didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The heavy sigh and judgmental undertone gave it away. “Hey, David.”
The officer escorting Russell through the station looked past him.
“I’ll take it from here, Frank,” David said.
Frank nodded and glanced at Russell for a split second before walking away.
Russell dipped his chin and stared at the white-speckled linoleum floor. He scratched at the stubble that grew on the sides of his face. “I had a bad night. You know what day it is.”
David placed his hands on his hips, then tilted his head. “Yeah. I know what day it is, but you’re going to have to do a better job of keeping it together.”
Officers passed by and skirted around them as they chatted in the middle of the hallway. Russell watched the uniformed men stare at him as they continued on their way.
David placed his hand on Russell’s shoulder, then nodded down the hall. “Come on.”
The two of them strolled through the police station and gathered Russell’s belongings. David escorted him to the entrance of the building. They stepped outside to the brisk, cool morning air, wandered down the sidewalk, and stopped to chat.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Russell said. “I owe you big.”
David kept his gaze fixed on Russell. “Just add it to the laundry list of IOUs that you have stacked against you, which is growing by the way. Besides, it wasn’t me who got you out. The suit you had a beef with told us he attacked you first. You should’ve stopped when you had him on the ground. You were lucky, again.”
Russell nodded in agreement. The list of favors and strings David had pulled for him was long. Russell knew each instance where David had helped him out of a jam. He was lucky to have such a friend, but felt that luck would run out soon.
A black Tahoe pulled into the parking space near them. Russell glanced at the sparkling vehicle, and knew it was his best friend and closest confidant. “You called Tim?”
David nodded his head. “Yeah. Figured you could use a ride home.”
“What about my car?” Russell countered. “It’s still parked over at The Metal Flea Pub.”
David nodded at Tim who waited in the vehicle. He looked like he was on the phone. “Just get it later. Go home. Get a shower, and get your crap together, brother. I don’t want to see you in here again.”
Copy that, Russell thought.
Russell shook David’s hand and headed to the passenger side of the Tahoe. He opened the door and stepped up into the cab.
“Yeah, that won’t be a problem,” Tim spoke into the phone. “Text me the details, and I’ll make sure it happens by Monday. Later.”
Russell slammed the door while looking at Tim. “You didn’t have to come down here to get me.”
Tim tossed the phone into the cubby hole in the center console. He gave Russell a pensive stare. “Of course, I did. Not sure who else would’ve come and picked your drunk ass up.”
Russell held up his hand. “I’m not drunk anymore. A bit hungover, maybe, but that’s it.”
“Gotcha. Well, you’re batting a thousand for sure,” Tim replied as he put the SUV into reverse. “Might need to stop and get some lotto tickets.”
Russell grabbed the seat belt and pulled it across his chest. He fastened it in place as Tim backed out onto the street. “Why is that?”
Tim smirked. “Because you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
He shifted the truck into drive and punched the gas.
The ride back to Tim’s condo was a quiet drive. Russell kept his gaze focused out of the passenger side window and watched as the businesses and houses flew by. He didn’t feel like chatting about what had happened, or the utter mess his life was in. He knew things had to change, or he was destined to live in the black hole of despair that was his existence.
“Damn it,” Russell groaned with a heavy sigh.
“What is it?” Tim probed as he looked his way.
“I had the early morning shift today at Teledyne. My boss is going to go berserk when I call, and tell him I’m running late. He’s probably going to fire me.” Russell rubbed his eyes, then rested his elbow on the side of the door.
“You hate that job,” Tim stated. “You’ve been talking about quitting there for months. Would it be so bad if it happened?”
That was true. Russell hated working at Teledyne as a security guard, but it was a job. One that he needed. “Yeah, well, since money doesn’t grow on trees and I’m loafing
on your couch, I kind of need to get my act together. I was only supposed to stay with you for a short stint. I feel bad that it’s gone on much longer than it should have.”
“It’s not a problem at all. I’ve told you as much. You can stay as long as you need to. Mi casa es su casa.” Tim dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand as he turned down Blanchet Street. His condo wasn’t much farther, which made Russell happy. A nice hot shower was calling his name.
Russell smiled, then nodded. “Thanks. I owe you.”
Tim pulled alongside the curb and stopped in front of a dark-brown brick building. He placed the Tahoe into park and winked. “As stated before, I’ll just put it on your tab.”
Russell gave a wry grin as they got out of the SUV.
They walked across the sidewalk, and through the archway that led up a flight of stairs to Tim’s abode. Russell checked his phone for any messages that he may had gotten from Sarah while sleeping off another mistake in the clink.
There were no texts or missed calls from her. It didn’t surprise him, but he’d hoped she would’ve reached out, considering what day it had been.
He did have a missed call and a message left by his work. Great.
Russell played the voicemail, which was as he expected. He was terminated, effective immediately. A bit harsh, but the news didn’t surprise him. He knew he was on his boss’s last nerve.
“When’s the last time you heard from her?” Tim asked as he fumbled with his keys.
Russell ended the message, then slid his phone into the back pocket of his work trousers while Tim unlocked the door. “Too long. A couple of months, I think.”
“Give her some time, man. She’ll come around.”
Tim slung open the door and stepped inside his spacious condo. Russell followed him in. Tim tossed his keys on the counter, then turned to face Russell.
Russell rubbed his hand up and down his face. He slipped off his coat and tossed it over the couch. He caught Tim staring at him while leaning against the bar. He looked like he was ready to do a deep dive into the mess that was Russell’s life. Russell had no desire to do that.
Powerless World: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Survive the Fall Book 1) Page 2
