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

by Derek Shupert

  The grogginess waned as Russell cracked open his eyes. The slight film blotting his vision dissolved. Long, light brown wooden logs filled his gaze.

  Where am I?

  Russell was no longer moving, or being dragged across the ground. That was the last thing he remembered. He wasn’t cold anymore. The chill he’d battled had left. His skin was dry, and free of moisture.

  His fingers traced over the brown blanket he had draped over his body. The soft, plush mattress felt comforting against his body. It was better than the tarp or the ground by a mile.

  Russell glanced around the tiny bedroom with a weary gaze. He skimmed over the light-brown textured, wooden log walls and sparse furnishings that sat in the corners of the room.

  A dark oak, four-drawer chest of drawers and a rocking chair resided against the far wall. Next to the bed was a tray with wet, bloody rags and a white ceramic bowl that sat on the bedstand. Bandages and other medical tools rested on top of the scarred nightstand.

  The door to the bedroom was open. Russell could see out into the kitchen. Steam rose from the pot of boiling food that brought him out of his slumber. He couldn’t spot the woman who had helped him or her dog.

  “Hello?” he asked in a groggy, raspy voice.

  Russell listened for a response, but didn’t receive one.

  He sat up in the bed and leaned against the headboard. His body was stiff, but the pain had lessened. His bones ached and muscles throbbed, but it was bearable.

  The covers slid off his bare chest which made him pause. He grabbed the top of the sheets and lifted them up. His body had been stripped clean of the damp rags. Even his underwear was gone.

  Russell squinted his eyes and scrunched his brow as a twinge of pain pierced his temple. He dropped the covers and pressed the ends of his thumbs against the side of his head to ease the discomfort.

  His arm didn’t hurt as bad when he lifted it up.

  A grumble slipped from his lips. With each pump of blood that coursed through his veins, his head throbbed in unison.

  Footfalls creaked over the wooden floor of the cabin and headed for the bedroom. Russell released a deep breath as the woman entered the room.

  She leaned against the jamb of the doorway while wiping her damp hands off on a towel. “How are you feeling? Better, I hope.”

  Russell licked his lips, then removed his thumbs from his temples. “I’m doing all right, thanks to you. I’m still sore, and I’ve got a headache, but otherwise, not bad.”

  She slung the towel over her shoulder, then folded her arms across her chest. A warm smile slit across her ageless face. She didn’t have any make-up on, but she didn’t need any. She had a natural beauty.

  “That’s good to hear. I fixed you up as best I could. I gave you some pain killers earlier when you were semi-awake, so that should keep the discomfort at a tolerable level. That was challenging, but you swallowed them without any issue. Your arm was dislocated, so I popped it back into place.”

  Russell nodded, then offered a grateful smile. “I appreciate that, and your kindness. If you hadn’t come along, that mountain lion would’ve torn me to shreds.”

  The woman turned and peered back toward the kitchen. She craned her neck in the direction of the pot of food she had going. “It was Max who found you. He caught the scent and took off. I had a hard time keeping up with him.”

  Max trotted in from the kitchen and brushed by her side. The tips of his ears and his tail were only visible above the edge of the mattress. He skirted around the bedframe and hopped up on the side of the bed.

  His tongue dangled out of his mouth with his front paws resting on the covers near Russell’s legs. He leaned in close and sniffed at him, flicking his tongue out to try and lick his face.

  “Seems as though Max likes you,” the woman observed. “Most times, he’s standoffish with guys. That, and he’s pretty protective of me.”

  Max leaned down and nudged Russell’s hand with his snout.

  “I’m glad he does. If he didn’t, I’d imagine I would’ve died out there.” Russell rubbed Max’s head. He massaged his crown with the tips of his fingers. He hadn’t been that close to a dog for many years. Not since his deceased daughter’s beagle had passed when she was twelve.

  The woman patted her leg, then said, “All right, Max. That’s enough for now. I imagine you’ll get some more attention later.”

  Max licked Russell’s hand one last time, then moved off the side of the bed. He trotted over to the woman’s side and sat on his haunches. He was well trained and obeyed without question.

  Russell glanced around the room for his clothes. He didn’t see them on the dresser or the rocking chair. He felt a bit exposed even with the sheets and blankets covering his naked body. He hadn’t been around a beautiful woman while he was naked for some time. Not since Sarah.

  “What did you do with my clothes and belongings?”

  The woman pointed at the nightstand. “Your phone and other personal items are in the top drawer. As far as your clothes go, I tossed them out. They were in bad shape. Torn and ripped. Plus, they were spotted with blood. Didn’t think you’d want to wear such tattered rags. I’ve got some men’s clothes that I think will fit you. I’ll go grab them shortly and bring ’em to you. You’re more than welcome to take what you need.”

  Russell turned and reached for the nightstand. He opened the drawer and found his phone and the other items he had crammed into his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll take whatever you can spare. I don’t have much of a choice since I’m sitting here stark naked.”

  The woman smirked, then blushed some as she pushed away from the jamb. “Let me go grab those clothes for you. I’ll be right back.”

  She stepped toward the door.

  “I’m Russell Cage, by the way.”

  The woman stopped, then said, “Nice to meet you, Russell Cage. I’m Cathy Snider.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RUSSELL

  Russell gave a grateful nod as Cathy left his sight with Max by her side. He retrieved his phone from the drawer and thumbed the power button. It didn’t respond to his command. The screen had streaks of moisture coating the glass. Russell rubbed the blanket over the screen and thumbed the button again.

  Cathy was only gone for ten minutes or so before returning with two boxes stacked in her arms. She wobbled through the doorway and sat the cartons in the rocking chair. “There’s plenty in there to choose from. Everything from regular shirts to flannel tops. The nights up here, and even days, can get a bit chilly, so I’d advise picking out some to keep you comfortable and warm.”

  Russell tossed his phone to the bed with a disgruntled sigh. “I appreciate it.”

  Cathy made for the door. She grabbed the brass doorknob, then looked at Russell. “Why don’t you get dressed? The chow I’ve got cooking should be done. Some food might do you some good.”

  Russell nodded as Cathy stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. He rubbed his hand over his face, then tossed the covers from his bare body.

  The warmth that had accumulated under the layers of sheets evaporated in a blink. It wasn’t too cold in the bedroom, but it wasn’t near as warm as being under the covers.

  Russell scooted to the edge of the bed and threw his legs to the wooden floor. The rough surface of the planks pricked the soles of his feet, and gave him pause. Russell’s hands pressed down on the mattress as he stood up.

  A slight twinge shot through his ankle with the pressure. It hurt some, but not as bad as it had. The room spun and made him feel off balance—a slight dizzy spell that would hopefully wane.

  Russell stalked toward the boxes of clothes as the floor creaked under him. The damaged and wrinkled cardboard cartons looked aged, as if they had been sitting for some time. Russell grabbed both and moved them to the bed.

  The tape on the boxes had lost its adhesion. It lifted from the dusty cardboard in places. Russell removed the tape from the tops of both, then opened the lids.

&
nbsp; Cathy wasn’t joking about an assortment. Each box was stuffed to the gills with an array of garb. Graphic tees, jeans, flannel, long-sleeve shirts, footwear, and jackets rounded out the selection.

  Russell sifted through the attire, pulling out those items he wanted to try on. She had some boxers crammed in with the items. He wasn’t keen on wearing another man’s underwear, but considering he didn’t have any, he’d have to make do.

  Max barked, then groaned from the other room while Russell got dressed. The boxers, socks, jeans, shirt, and flannel top all fit without any real issues. Russell plopped down on the side of the bed and slipped on the thick-soled hiking boots. They were a tad bit larger than he normally wore, but they worked just the same. Given his swollen ankle, it made it easier to get the boot on.

  Russell discarded the cartons on the floor, then shoved them against the wall. He didn’t grab a jacket. The layers of shirts he had on kept him warm enough.

  He grabbed the phone from the mattress and made his way around the bed to the nightstand. He retrieved the gum and lighter and stuffed them into his pockets.

  The packages of gum felt damp, but Russell didn’t want to trash them yet. He was craving a drink, and the gum was his only source to battle the desire.

  Russell closed the drawer and made for the door. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the oval mirror that sat on top of the chest of drawers and leaned against the log wall.

  His fingers traced over the cuts and the black eye he had. He tilted his head to the side, then lowered his chin.

  He looked like hell, but that was to be expected. Afterall, he had been in a plane crash and was attacked by a mountain lion. Given what happened, Russell didn’t mind the surly look or the tiny lacerations that covered his stubble-ridden face. At least he was alive.

  “Soup’s on,” Cathy called out from the kitchen. “Best to get it while it’s hot.”

  Russell dropped his hand from his face. He tossed open the door and walked with a bit of a limp across the cabin.

  He glanced over the open space that was one large room. Next to the kitchen was a grand fireplace that had a fire going. He could feel the warmth from the glow of the orange flames brush over his face.

  A couch and chair were positioned in the middle of the living room with a spacious dog bed with white bones on the brown fabric between the furniture. An area rug covered the planks of wood and pushed toward the front door.

  Two other rooms were against the far wall. A ladder sat positioned between both and led to a loft type area. One thing that Russell noticed was that there wasn’t any sort of electronics. No TV, microwave, or anything else of the sort.

  Cathy sidled up to the small round table. She had dished out two bowls of piping hot stew. Steam lifted from the food, teasing Russell’s stomach. Max sat on the floor by her side and devoured the chunks of meat from his dog dish.

  “Looks like you found some threads that fit,” she said. “Glad I found a use for those clothes. I’ve been meaning to give them away. They were my late husband’s clothes. Procrastination at its best, I guess.”

  Russell tugged at the unbuttoned flannel shirt and the jeans he had on. “Yeah. I’m glad you didn’t either. This would’ve been a bit more awkward if you had.”

  Cathy chuckled while spooning out a hefty portion of stew from her blue ceramic bowl. She blew over the food before taking a bite. “I hope you like the food. It has deer meat in it with an assortment of veggies. Corn, green beans, potatoes, and carrots.”

  Russell pulled the aged wooden chair away from the table and took a seat. He grabbed the spoon and probed the stew. The rich scent of spices made his mouth water.

  “It smells delicious,” he said while taking a bite. The torrid stew rolled about his mouth until it cooled some, then slipped down his throat. “Haven’t had stew in I don’t know how long.”

  Cathy took another generous bite before responding. “Thanks. I keep it pretty simple, and fix whatever is easiest on the stove top.”

  Russell gulped down another portion of the medley. Juices ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the paper towel he had before him. He craned his neck, and looked past her to the wood-burning cast iron stove.

  “Wow. I thought that’s what it was, but wasn’t sure. Haven’t seen one of those in forever.”

  Cathy nodded as she wiped her hands on the towel next to the bowl. “Yeah. I try to minimize the number of appliances and such that run off electricity, so it doesn’t tax my generator too much. It cooks pretty well.”

  Russell glanced to the light that dangled overhead, then to the lamps and other lights around the cabin which were sparse. “So, everything in here that is on is powered by a generator?”

  Cathy confirmed with a bow of her head. “Yep. Good thing too since that CME hit the planet. Not sure of what all damage it did, but I imagine it probably brought down the grid.”

  Russell lifted his brow in curiosity. The tip of the spoon dunked below the juices of the soup and stayed there. “CME? Grid down? I’m not following.”

  Cathy wiped away the juices from her pink lips with the towel and swallowed the food. “Yeah. Coronal Mass Ejection. Meaning, in laymen terms, the earth was struck by a wave of gamma radiation that was ejected from the sun. It can overload the power grid. Fry transformers and such. Anything connected to long lines is toast. Fires can pop up all over the place. Hell on earth. I’m somewhat kidding about that last part. Anything plugged into an electrical outlet or that relies on electricity to operate is gone. It can even damage satellites and such. Which means no GPS, phones, or anything like that.”

  What Cathy said sounded farfetched. How could such an event do that to the power grid. He had no working knowledge of the effects of such an event, and had never even heard of a CME for that matter, so he was at a disadvantage. Still, she popped off the facts like she had in-depth dealings on the subject.

  “How do you know all of this? Are you some kind of scientist or expert on space and weird anomalies?”

  Cathy shook her head, then leaned back in her chair. “I am no expert or scientist. Not by any means. I’ve just studied the different ways our infrastructure could be taken out. Whether by EMP, electromagnetic pulse, or CME. One can’t prepare for TEOTWAWKI without doing the research. When the shit hits the fan, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Honestly, it’s all fascinating and yet terrifying stuff if you think about it.

  The news reported on the CME some before it struck earth a day or so ago. They weren’t sure of the scope, and how much of an impact it was going to have on the planet. Can’t be sure how much damage has been done, but since we, society in general, rely so heavy on electricity and technology, it probably isn’t good. We were due for such an event to happen. Those that prepared for it will be far better off than those who hadn’t.”

  “Prepared?” Russell countered.

  Cathy clarified. “Me and my late husband were preppers. One of the reasons why we moved up here was to become self-sufficient. Being so reliant on electricity and such was soon to bite us, humanity, in the ass. That day might be here.”

  Russell didn’t recall hearing about such things on the news, or anywhere else for that matter. Then again, when one wallows in self-loathing and drinks in their free time, there wasn’t much room for anything else.

  Still, what Cathy divulged was hard to digest. The fact that the planet could be hit by such an event boggled his mind. It didn’t seem real, and yet, from recent events he had experienced, the plane going down and losing cell reception, it kind of made sense.

  “You said this CME can interfere with satellites and such, right? Meaning, loss of cell reception and communications in general, correct?” Russell inquired.

  Cathy nodded, then stood from the table. She grabbed her bowl and made for the sink. “That’s correct. Cell phones, landline phones, and most other types of communications would go down. So, trying to reach someone right now probably isn’t going to happen. I know. I’ve tried.”


  Russell leaned forward and dug the phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He stared at the disabled device with a long-defeated gaze and thought of Sarah. “If I needed to contact my wife in Boston, how could I do that?”

  Cathy turned and leaned against the counter. “Like I said, using a cell phone or anything that relies on towers or satellites is a no go. They won’t work. Not for a long while.”

  Russell dropped the phone on the table. He reeled from the defeating words that spilled from her lips without hesitation. “How long are we talking? Days? Weeks?”

  Cathy shrugged, then stepped away from the sink. She bent down and retrieved Max’s dish from the floor. Max sprung from the floor and walked beside Cathy as she dished out some stew in his bowl. He groaned and watched her every move with a vigilant gaze.

  “Could be days, weeks, or even years. Don’t know. Being a prepper, we always plan for the worst and hope for the best. I’m hoping for sooner rather than later for my daughter’s sake. She never got into the whole prepper lifestyle, so she isn’t as prepared. That’s one of the reasons I’m going to load up and head to Philadelphia, to make sure she’s all right.”

  Russell lost his appetite from the devesting news. He didn’t know if she was right or not, but just the thought twisted his stomach into knots. Although, he knew he needed to eat to get his strength back.

  The past day had beaten him down emotionally and physically, and it wasn’t getting any better. Losing Tim and now being stranded away from Sarah with no way of being able to contact her didn’t sit well with him.

  Russell rubbed his hands up and down his face, then sighed. “And the hits just keep on coming. Worst trip ever.”

  Cathy set Max’s bowl back on the floor, then looked to Russell’s long face. “I was meaning to ask why you were out there. Most folks who go hiking and such are dressed properly and have gear with them. You didn’t have either.”