Powerless World: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Survive the Fall Book 1)

by Derek Shupert

  Tim checked his seat belt again. He tugged at the strap to ensure it was secured.

  “On my God. Are we going down?” Russell muttered through the panic that swallowed him whole. He knew the answer, but hoped he was wrong.

  As calm as he could, Tim cut his gaze over to Russell as he fought with the control yoke. “Make sure your seat belt is secured, and brace for impact. We’re going down.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  SARAH

  Sarah arrived to Boylston Station as the scuffed gunmetal doors slammed shut on the subway. A second later and she wouldn’t have made it inside.

  She was out of breath, panting hard as the heels of her palms rested on the soft parts of her knees. The subway shuddered, then took off down the tunnel toward Copley Station.

  It was a last-minute decision to ride the subway. Her truck had refused to start, and she didn’t have time to investigate what issues where plaguing the aging, red eyesore.

  Public transportation wasn’t high on her list of modes of getting around Boston, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  The subway wasn’t packed, at least not the section she was in. There were three other riders in the car aside from her. They looked as thrilled to be on the rickety subway as her with long faces and emotionless gazes staring off into space.

  Their dipped chins lifted and trained in her direction. Odd stares stuck to Sarah like a bad stench as she sat down in one of the open seats. Her hair was a bit of a mess as she ran her fingers through the strands, trying to straighten it out as best she could.

  Small beads of sweat populated Sarah’s brow and raced down her face. She waved her hand, trying to cool the flushed skin. She could’ve waited the extra thirty minutes for the next subway, but time wasn’t on her side.

  “In a rush, dear?” an elderly woman asked from the seat across from Sarah. She offered a warm smile that was swallowed by numerous wrinkles across her aged face.

  Sarah shrugged, then smirked at the comment. “Story of my life.”

  The woman raised her hand from the black cane she had nestled between her legs. She pointed at Sarah and shook her skeletal finger as if to scold her.

  “I hope to the lord above you’re not chasing after some man, sweetie. You are too beautiful to have to do that. Those men should be chasing after you.”

  You have no idea.

  “Just running late to meet a friend, is all,” Sarah clarified. “Cell reception has been crap today, and I wasn’t able to reach her. Not sure what is going on.”

  “I noticed the same thing,” a larger woman across the car spoke out. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail with loose, wiry strands that stuck out from the sides of her head. She straightened them, then pulled the unruly hairs behind her ears. “I was trying to call my son’s worthless father and couldn’t reach him. At first, I thought he was just ignoring my calls, then I tried my best friend, and couldn’t reach her either.”

  The two other passengers on the car nodded in much the same way. It didn’t sound like her phone was the issue, but instead, the cell service wasn’t working for whatever reason.

  The lights overhead flickered. The passengers glanced to the dull, monotone lights that cast the interior in a pale shade of white, then rolled their eyes.

  “The city needs to upgrade these subway systems,” the elderly woman barked. “It isn’t safe to be underground with the way those lights flicker, and the horrible noise the subway makes.”

  A homely, middle-aged man, seated a few sections down from the large woman, sighed. He ran his large hand over his thinning hair. His fingers then balled into fists and his lips pursed which made Sarah uneasy.

  He glanced her way with his brow furrowed and nostrils flaring. “About like everything else in this God forsaken city. Subpar accommodations for the taxpayers who are forced to take such means of transport.”

  Sarah kept silent and avoided engaging the disturbed man. Besides, she didn’t have an opinion on the matter she wanted to share. Sarah wasn’t a regular rider of the subway. It was something she’d have forgone if she could have.

  Damn truck.

  The lights flickered again, then crashed, thrusting the car into total darkness. Gasps filled the subway, followed by moans of frustration as the metal bullet came to a grinding halt.

  “What the hell?” the homely man growled. “I’m in no mood for this today, so they better get us back on our way, pronto.”

  “I told you,” the elderly woman griped, echoing the upset man’s displeasure for the stalled subway. “This city needs to fix what our tax payer dollars pay for.”

  Sarah looped her arm through the straps of her purse as she dug in the pocket of her pants for her phone. The last thing she wanted was to have someone try something in the dark.

  A light from the opposite end of the car sliced through the ether of blackness. It waived in the air, shinning over the irritated faces of the passengers who sat in their seats.

  “I don’t think it’s just the subway that’s messed up,” Sarah said while looking through the windows that lined the sides of the car. “It’s just as dark out in the tunnel.”

  The large woman across from Sarah turned and looked in the direction they came. “She’s right. It’s just as dark out there. I can’t see any sort of light.”

  Sarah got her phone out and thumbed the power button. The gleam from the screen lit up. She engaged the phone’s flashlight and skimmed over the car.

  The passengers peered through the windows at the darkness as they held their belongings close to their persons.

  “Well, isn’t this just great?” the homely man groused with a heavy sigh. He grabbed the collar of the smirched rags draped over his large frame and fanned his body. He stood from his seat and paced back and forth. He ran his hand over what few strands of hair covered his head. “There’s no airflow now, so it’s going to get hot as hell in here. Just how I wanted to spend my way home from work after a long night and morning of working my ass off. Sweating to death in this tin can.”

  “I don’t see any lights anywhere, either,” the stocky businessman at the end of the car called out. He peered through the windows into the next car, then said, “Looks like it’s all of the cars from what I can tell.”

  “Holy hell,” the homely man groaned.

  Sarah crept to the rear of the car. The light from the phone washed over the empty seats and steel bars. Her arm pressed down on her purse. She was hesitant about the homely man, given his angered state. He made her feel uncomfortable.

  Sarah leaned toward the glass and squinted, trying to look through the car behind them for any spec or hint of light within the murk.

  It appeared to be empty. She didn’t see any shadowy figures in the rows of seats. The small lights mounted on the interior of the tunnel walls were void of any life. They should be active.

  “I think the power is out everywhere,” she said aloud. “At least, in the tunnel, anyway. I don’t think it’s a city problem or anything like that. I think it’s something bigger.”

  “Do you work for the city or know anything about the subway system?” the homely man snapped.

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder to the homely man, then rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t, but I do know that the lights on the interior of the tunnel walls should be lit. They have backup generators for when the power goes out, right? From the looks of it, they aren’t working either. If they were, the tunnel should have power, at least.”

  “Are you sure about that?” the homely man scoffed. “Because I’ve never heard of that. There have been instances where subways in other states have lost power and the tunnels went dark. No lights of any kind stayed on, so your whole generator theory is flawed. Thanks for that insightful tidbit.”

  The man’s condescending tone crawled all over Sarah. He was an ass and didn’t fight to hide the fact. He wasn’t helping the situation in the least.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the elderly woman interjected. “Do you work for the subw
ay transit authority?”

  He stumbled over his words, then rubbed the back of his head as he cut his gaze over to Sarah. “Well, no, but-”

  “So, you don’t know for sure, then,” she countered.

  He shrugged as his face swelled with embarrassment. “No. Not really.”

  “Okay, so keep your opinion to yourself if you’re not open to others,” she fired back.

  He folded his arms across his chest. His face twisted into a scowl as he huffed, then looked away.

  The elderly woman winked at Sarah, then gave her a half smile which was hard to see. “I’m Nancy, by the way.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Actually, most cities with subways have started installing generators for this reason. I’m not sure if Boston has yet or not, but I know New York looked into doing it,” the large woman said. “I used to work for the Transit System here in Boston some years back. My name is Debbie, in case you were wondering.”

  “Hi, Debbie,” Nancy replied.

  “Oh great. Another expert,” the homely man grumbled. “And can we please focus on the task at hand? I’m Tom, and you are?”

  Tom pointed at the businessman in a huff. “Chris.”

  “There. We’re all besties now. Can we get back to what really matters?” Tom snarled.

  Sarah grabbed the silver handle to the passthrough door. A loud banging noise rose from the opposite end of the car. She turned on her heels and stared down the long stretch of seats and steel poles.

  Chris shined his phone at the connecting door that led into the next car. He stepped cautiously toward the commotion and lifted his phone at the glass window.

  A woman hammered the window with her fist. She yelled at the glass, but it was hard to make out.

  Chris trained his ear to the window and listened closely, trying to discern what she was saying.

  “What’s going down over there?” Debbie shouted. She sprung from her seat in a blink while pointing at the frantic passenger.

  “They managed to crack one of the doors, but it jammed. It won’t go any farther,” Chris replied. “They tried the emergency button to contact the operator, but it isn’t working. They’re asking if we can open any of the doors in our car or reach the operator?”

  Sarah grabbed the gray handle and jerked, but it wouldn’t budge. Both hands wrapped around the handle as she tugged some more, but to no avail. “It won’t move.”

  She held her phone up and spotted a sign to the side of the door.

  Not a Passthrough.

  That’s great. Must be locked, then.

  Below the sign was the emergency call button.

  Sarah pressed the small red button, then released. No static or hint of a connection could be heard. It was dead. “The emergency system isn’t working in here, either.”

  Chris trained his phone at the automatic doors. He stepped closer and ran his hand down the seam where the two sides met. “I wonder if we can pry them open.”

  Debbie shook her head, then waved her plump finger in the air. “We should wait for the operator. If the subway goes offline, the transit authority will be notified, and they’ll send a team down here to evacuate us from the car if the conductor cannot and if it’s safe to do so.”

  “What sort of response time do they have in these sorts of matters if the operator can’t open the doors?” Chris asked.

  “Hopefully, not too long,” Debbie said. “Could be fifteen minutes or a few hours. Just depends on what all is going on and if there are other cars that are stuck.”

  Tom squinted his eyes and shook his head while pointing at the double doors. “Hold on. Wait a minute and backup here. What do you mean if it’s safe to do so?”

  All of the passengers paused and stared at her. The car fell silent as each person waited for a response.

  Debbie gulped. “What if this is some sort of terrorist attack, like an EMP strike or a bomb that has been set off by the North Korean’s or the Islamic State? That tunnel could be filled with toxic fumes or radiation. Remember 9/11? The Boston Marathon? I’m just saying that could be it, and we should use our heads and think. Why else would ALL of the power just go out?”

  Sarah listened to the bickering passengers volley their wild theories. It did little to stay the uneasiness lingering inside her head.

  She didn’t know why the power crashed, or what had happened. Something did, and that made Sarah hesitant to act for fear of the unknown.

  For now, their best bet was to stay put and wait for help, regardless if they liked it or not.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RUSSELL

  Pain lanced through every part of Russell’s body as he came to. Disorientation filled his head. It hurt to move and breathe. For now, though, he was alive.

  A grumble of discomfort escaped Russell’s lips. His eyes were heavy as he forced them open. A thick haze coated his vision and made it hard to see. He blinked, trying to erase the film.

  How long have I been out?

  “Tim,” Russell spoke through a groan as he tried to move. “You ok, bud?”

  Nothing but the whistling of the wind answered him from the multiple breaches within the fuselage. The foul stench of smoke filled Russell’s nose and made him cough. His throat burned, and his lungs stung with each hack he made.

  Russell’s face scrunched in pain as he lifted his hand to his head. The movement stole his breath and made him pant.

  His eyes clamped shut, then opened wide.

  The blurred vision waned as the battered interior of the Cessna materialized. Devastation surrounded Russell. Plumes of smoke escaped from the front of the aircraft. Jagged pieces of glass rimmed the outer edge of the windshield like sharks’ teeth.

  Tim hadn’t responded. He was motionless. His arms hung lifeless by his sides. Blood dripped from the tips of his fingers. The side of his head rested against the headrest as he looked away from Russell.

  “Come on, bud. Wake up.” Russell reached over and grabbed his arm. “Now’s not the time for a nap. We need to figure out where we are.”

  Russell tugged at Tim’s arm, trying to get any sort of indicator that his friend was alive. Tim moved only in response to having his arm pulled.

  A jolt of fear spiked through Russell. His lips quivered and his eyes glossed over with the realization that his friend could be dead.

  Russell lifted from the seat, but the seat belt snapped to and kept him from going any further. Anger and sadness boiled in his stomach as he feared for Tim’s life. Panic set in as he fumbled with the latch to set himself free.

  The metal ends of the seat belt slapped against the center console and the fuselage. More pain punished Russell as he leaned toward Tim.

  Tim’s not dead. He’s not dead, Russell muttered to himself.

  He grabbed Tim’s chin and pulled his head toward him. Those few seconds of not knowing felt like an eternity. His heart pounded inside his ear as Tim’s bloody face came into view.

  A wide gash ran from the top of his brow down to the other side of his chin. Russell froze. His eyes swelled with emotion as he fought to hold it together. He placed two fingers on his neck, hoping he’d discover a pulse, regardless of how faint it may be.

  Russell knew it was a longshot, but he hoped against hope that Tim might still be with him. He searched, moving his fingers over Tim’s moist neck, only to find that his friend had passed.

  Son of a bitch.

  What light at the end of the tunnel Russell had seen before they took off from the airport seemed to evaporate in a blink. His best friend was dead, and he was stranded in the wilderness without a clue of what to do next.

  He wasn’t a survivalist, and didn’t know how to live off the land. He was a city boy through and through. He had been on some hikes as a kid, but that was about it.

  Trekking through the woods with no clear direction felt like a bad move, but staying put and not doing anything wouldn’t work either.

  Russell didn’t know what to do next. His body was riddled wit
h pain, and his best friend was dead, but he had survived. If it were to remain that way, he had to venture into the unknown and find help.

  The phone.

  Russell forced his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. The cool, crisp mountain air brushed over his flesh. A shiver washed over his body as he yanked it out.

  Please work. Please work.

  His hands trembled as he thumbed the power button. The screen flashed and came to life. The device couldn’t work fast enough for Russell as he pressed the phone icon.

  In the top corner of the screen, he noticed the zero with a line through it. No signal.

  Russell’s shoulders sagged with defeat. A heavy sigh fled his mouth. He lifted his hand up to his face and grunted in discomfort. His shoulder hurt. Certain movements tormented him without pause. The pain stole his breath and made him weak in the knees. A possible dislocation or sprain. Either way, it hurt like hell.

  The wave of pain subsided and gave Russell a reprieve. He secured the phone in the front of his pants, and gave Tim one final look. He hated to leave his friend, but he had to move.

  Light bled in through the gaping hole of the fuselage as Russell left the cockpit. Wires hung from the ceiling. The long strands of cable looked like snakes dangling from trees. They swayed from side to side with the breeze.

  Russell ducked and shoved them out of his way with his good arm as he traversed the disheveled mess. The two seats in the rear of the Cessna were ripped from the floor. They sat on their sides with the sharp ends of the contorted metal attached to the steel legs of the seats.

  The aircraft moved and creaked a loud warning, stopping Russell dead in his tracks. His arms spanned out to the side of him which ripped a grumble of pain from his lips. The hole in the fuselage was close. It was well within his reach.

  Another step forward and the busted aircraft pitched portside, sending Russell flat on his ass.