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

by Derek Shupert

  One taste. That’s all. Just something to take the edge off.

  It was never just a single taste or sip. One always turned into two, and before he knew it, half the bottle was gone.

  Russell wrestled with indecision. A bounty of pros and cons played inside his head. It had been some time since he had taken the painkillers, and he figured he’d be all right to at least have that sip.

  “Well, are you going to grab the bottle or not?” an angry voice inquired.

  “Umm, what?” Russell turned around to face the old man who sounded more agitated than he was before. “I was getting a cup for that drink of water.”

  He reached inside the cupboard and grabbed a glass from the bottom shelf.

  Thomas stood at the opening of the kitchen with Butch at his side. A disgruntled expression covered his face as he eyed Russell.

  “Sure, you were.” He crossed his arms. “I know the look a man gets when he hasn’t had a taste for some time. Hell, I’ve been there.”

  Russell sat the glass on the counter, then looked at Thomas. “It has been a shitty couple of days. Just looking to take the edge off.”

  “Hell, son. Given that you were in a plane crash and dealing with that mess at her place, you probably need one. I know I do.” Thomas pointed at the cabinet. “Grab me a glass and the Knob Creek, will ya?”

  He didn’t have to ask twice.

  Russell jumped at the chance. He flung open the door to the cabinet, grabbed another glass, and the bottle of liquor.

  A flickering light from down the hall where Cathy was shone on the floor near the kitchen. Thomas leaned away from the wall and craned his neck. He motioned with his hand for Russell to hurry up.

  “What’s wrong?” Russell inquired.

  “Cathy doesn’t like when I drink. Says it won’t mix well with the blood pressure medication I’m taking. She’s already pissed. I don’t want to piss her off anymore. Believe me, you don’t want to see that.”

  Russell didn’t doubt it. Cathy was a strong, independent woman, and didn’t take crap from anybody. It reminded him of Sarah. Both were forces to be reckoned with when they were upset.

  He handed Thomas the bottle, and scooped up the lantern and both glasses.

  The two men and Butch skulked through the cabin to the entryway. Thomas grabbed his coat from the hook and tossed it to Russell.

  Going outside while being damp wasn’t what Russell had in mind, but if it meant getting a drink and satisfying his craving, then it would be well worth it.

  Thomas slipped on another coat, then cracked open the door. Butch squeezed his way through the narrow opening as Thomas nodded to Russell.

  Like thieves in the night, they left the house without a single sound.

  Thomas walked across the porch and sat the bottle on the railing. His hand burrowed into his coat pocket as he looked out over the dense cluster of trees that were swallowed by the night.

  The rain had all but stopped. Nothing more than a trickle fell and pinged off the covering. A brisk breeze bit at Russell’s hands and face, making him shiver.

  “How long have you lived up here?” Russell set the glass on the railing near the bottle as he skimmed over the blinding darkness.

  Owls hooted from the woods.

  The shuffling of leaves nearby peaked Butch’s curiosity. His ears twitched, then stood on end as he searched for the source.

  Thomas pulled his hand out of his coat pocket. A crushed package of cigarettes was clutched in his grasp. He opened the top and pulled one out. “Oh, hell. Long enough to not remember how long. Want one?”

  He presented the package to Russell, who refused the offer with a subtle shake of his head. “No thanks. Another bad habit I’m trying to quit”

  “Suit yourself.” Thomas shrugged, then slipped the rich tobacco stick between his lips. “I’ve been working on this same pack for months. Only smoke when I’m stressed and all. Helps calm the nerves.”

  Russell could relate. Everyone had their vices and dealt with things in their own way. For some, it was smoking. For others, like him, it was drinking.

  Thomas crammed the package back into his coat pocket. He lit the tip and puffed on the butt. He glanced over his shoulder at the cabin as smoke blew from his mouth. “Are you going to crack open that bottle, or are we just going to stand here all-night thinking about it?”

  Cathy wasn’t the only one who was in a foul mood, that much was certain. Russell kept his mouth shut to avoid saying something he might regret.

  He pulled the top free of the bottle and poured the whiskey.

  Thomas grabbed one of glasses. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and gulped down the stout spirit in one fell swoop. “Man, that’s some good stuff.”

  Russell followed suit and knocked back the shot of whiskey in his glass. The full-bodied spirit was sweet and had a woody taste that lingered on his tongue. He relished in the moment as the liquor coursed through his body.

  “That’s rather smooth.” Russell licked his lips dry.

  Thomas tilted his head. “Yeah. The store in town doesn’t have a deep selection of hard liquor. It’s pretty limited up here. One makes do with what they have.”

  Russell doled out another shot in his glass. He offered another round to the old man. “Are you a prepper like Cathy?”

  Thomas held up a hand, refusing the drink. “Living up here, you sort of have to be. There aren’t many resources close by, so you have to learn to be self-reliant and handle matters on your own. Neighbors are few and far between. Cathy is the closest person to me for miles.” Thomas took another drag from the cigarette. He peered back over his shoulder again as if he was on the lookout for her. “Do you ever stick your foot in your mouth? I seem to have a knack for doing that these days. Could be old age, or because I’m just a crotchety bastard. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway.”

  “All the time, or so my wife would say. Well, soon to be ex-wife maybe. I don’t know,” Russell answered without missing a beat. “Over the past year, it feels like the heel of my shoe has been glued to my mouth all of the time. I’m either saying the wrong thing, or not saying enough. It’s almost like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.” Russell threw his head back. The shot vanished in a blink.

  Thomas blew the smoke from his mouth, then squashed the end on the railing. He flicked the crumpled bud to the ground.

  Butch yawned, revealing his fangs that glistened from the solar light reflecting off the canines. “Well, that seems to be what we’re good for, I’d imagine. I know I drove my late wife crazy. When it comes to those I love and care for, I get overzealous, speak before I have a chance to process the words that dump out of my mouth.” Thomas lowered his head, then reached down to his knees. He grumbled under his breath as he massaged his knee caps. “Damn body isn’t what it used to be. It’s falling apart day by day.”

  Russell could relate about speaking before thinking. He had done that more times than he could count. “I think at the end of the day, we do our best and try to learn from our mistakes. We’re never perfect, and we won’t be. As long as we try to do better than we did the day before, I consider that a win.”

  Thomas lifted his leg, then stretched it out. A wide yawn overtook him, and he covered his mouth. “And on that note, I think I’m going to retire. It’s way past my bedtime.” He turned toward the cabin, and nodded. “I’ve got an extra room in there if you want to get some shuteye.”

  “Thanks. I’ll head in here shortly,” Russell said with a somber tone.

  Defeat weighed on his shoulders. He glanced at the shot glass, then sighed from the guilt that swarmed him. Sarah was there for him at all times, but he drew away from her and ran to the arms of liquor instead. Perhaps it was the fact that he felt like a failure in protecting his family. Afterall, that’s what a man did, right? He wanted her back more than life itself, but he hadn’t shown her that. Words only did so much, but actions spoke volumes.

  Thomas stared at Russell, then placed
his wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “You know, son, we all make mistakes. Some are worse than others, but at the end of the day, it’s never too late to make things right. I don’t know your situation, and don’t really need to, but if you love this woman with all of your heart, you need not only tell her, but show her as well. Whatever you’re battling, you can overcome it. Just dig deep and fight back.”

  Poignant words that struck to the heart of the matter. It was something that Russell needed to be reminded of, a swift kick in the ass to keep him focused on getting Sarah back, if it wasn’t too late.

  He offered Thomas a warm smile followed by a grateful nod. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem. Like I said, I’ve had experience in such matters. Just passing on the wisdom.”

  Thomas winked, then limped toward the front door with Butch by his side. Subtle grunts lingered from his lips as he paused. He peered over his shoulder, and said, “Thanks for entertaining this old fool for a spell. It was nice to have a drink and converse with someone.”

  “Likewise,” Russell said.

  Thomas opened the door and disappeared inside the dark dwelling.

  Russell tilted the opening of the bottle over his glass without thinking about it. He stared at the base of the empty shot glass. His body craved the liquor, but he didn’t want to pour the shot.

  His gaze flitted to the now cloudless sky filled with stars. He set the bottle further down the railing to avoid the temptation.

  Both hands grabbed hold of the wood. The sharp ends of the plank poked his sensitive palms, but Russell didn’t care. He breathed in deep, then exhaled through pursed lips.

  A barrage of thoughts flashed through his head. Everything from Sarah to the plane crash coalesced in his mind. In that moment, Russell decided things were going to change. Whatever he had to do, would be done. No mountain would be too big for him to scale or river too deep cross. Making things right with Sarah and getting her back was all he wanted. Anything else wouldn’t do.

  What tomorrow held for him was up in the air. It was a new day that would no doubt present a slew of challenges, both mentally and physically.

  Russell would have to overcome his demons and fight like hell, but he was ready for the coming battle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SARAH

  Dreams were what nightmares, and monsters, were made of.

  An endless affliction of unrest plagued Sarah for what fraction of sleep she had gotten. Most of the night consisted of her speaking with Diane on the roof, then tossing and turning on Rick’s couch. Diane had been grateful for Sarah taking the time to speak with her, which somewhat countered the awful sleep Sarah got.

  The rigid cushions knotted her back, and the uneasiness of sleeping in a stranger’s apartment lingered in her thoughts, keeping her on edge. Rick hadn’t tried anything, or come across as anything less than a gentleman, but still, she was cautious.

  The biggest culprit of stealing her rest was not only Russell’s state of well-being, but the tormentor of her dreams. The Creeper.

  Sarah woke in a dazed fright, terrified by the evil man who sought her out even when she slept. The Creeper never left her thoughts. He was nestled in the black matter of her brain, waiting for his moment to strike.

  A wave of panic washed over Sarah as she sat up from the couch. Strident rays from the sun shone through the bay windows across the apartment and hit her face. She squinted and diverted her gaze. Her hand shielded the light as her eyes adjusted.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Her fingers closed as if by muscle memory around the grip of her gun that wasn’t there. The Glock was gone. Missing. What happened to her weapon?

  Sarah tossed her legs from the couch to the floor. The soles of her shoes hit something firm and dense. She lifted her foot.

  The Glock was on the rug. Did she drop it in the middle of the night, or did something else happen? She peered over the back of the couch for Rick, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  She heard movement from the room past the kitchen. Footfalls creaked over the wooden planks of the floor. Rick walked past the cracked open door while putting on a shirt.

  Sarah grumbled from being tired, then turned around. She retrieved the Glock from the floor, and set it in her lap. Her body deflated against the back of the couch. Lack of sleep was a bitch.

  The palms of her hands rubbed up and down her face. She didn’t need a mirror to see what a mess she had to be. The sleepiness that lingered told the tale.

  Sarah grabbed the Glock from her lap and leaned forward. She pushed up off the couch. The muscles in her back were stiff and stole her breath when she straightened out.

  She secured the Glock in the waistband of her trousers, then stretched. A yawn fled her open mouth as Rick flanked her.

  “How did you sleep?” he inquired.

  Sarah flinched, then pulled her arms in. “All right, I suppose.” She didn’t want to be rude. Afterall, he had opened his home to her.

  He patted the top of the couch with his hand. “I know it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world to sleep on. You could’ve taken the bed, and I would’ve slept out here. I wouldn’t have minded.”

  Sarah gave a warm smile. This wasn’t her place, and she didn’t feel right kicking him out of his bedroom. Besides, sleeping in another man’s bed made her feel uneasy, all things considered. “The couch worked. Your hospitality is appreciated. Thank you for everything.”

  Rick nodded. “It was my pleasure. I wouldn’t have felt right leaving you out there in that mess.”

  “I should probably get on my way and check on my friend to make sure she’s ok.” Sarah dipped her chin and scanned for her purse. She was burning daylight, even though it was early in the morning.

  “I believe you set it on the floor near the entryway,” Rick pointed out.

  She turned toward the far wall. Her purse was on the floor, leaning against the front leg of the tall table. “Thanks.”

  Sarah walked across the room, stiff as a board. She bent over and wrangled the straps. Her head throbbed from the movement, and she hurt all over. The twisted knots in her back and neck ravaged her body. She mumbled, then sighed as she stood up while rubbing her temples.

  Aspirin. That’s what she needed to combat the dull, nagging pain. She cracked open her purse and sifted through the contents. Her fingers pushed the makeup and other personal items out of the way. A bottle of generic pain reliever caught her eye.

  “Is the water running, by chance?” Perhaps it was a silly question, but Sarah wasn’t sure if it would be running or not. “I’ve got a headache and need something to wash it down. I wasn’t sure since it looks like the power is still out.”

  The digital clock on the black stove and microwave were blank, void of any green tinted numbers on the face of the appliances.

  “Um, it should be for now, I think. Let me check.” Rick turned on his heels and made for the kitchen. He grabbed the handle to the faucet and lifted it up. Water sputtered from the spout.

  “For now, looks like it.” He grabbed a small plastic cup from the strainer next to him and filled it up.

  Sarah pressed down on the top of the bottle and twisted. The cap popped and spun lose. She tilted the bottle at an angle, then gave it a single shake.

  The brown coated pills jostled about inside the container. It wasn’t full, but she only needed two for now.

  “Here you go.” Rick extended the plastic cup to Sarah.

  She dumped out two of the pills into her palm, then tossed them into her mouth. The water chased the pain reliever down her throat. She hoped it would kick in fast. Sarah gulped the remainder of the tepid water, then licked her lips.

  “Thanks.” She handed the cup back to Rick.

  He set it on the table next to the door as Sarah slipped the straps of her purse over her shoulder.

  “You’re welcome.” Rick stood in the entryway, looking at Sarah. His brow lifted as indecision swirled in his e
yes. The palms of his hands rubbed up and down the fronts of his stressed denim jeans as he lowered his head.

  “Something on your mind?” Sarah probed. It wasn’t difficult to read that he wanted to ask her something.

  “Yeah. I know you can take care of yourself and all—” He glanced to the Glock she had secured in the waistband of her trousers. “—but I’d feel better if you’d allow me to escort you to your friend’s place. With all the craziness going on out there, it wouldn’t be right for me not to at least offer up some help.”

  Sarah peered out of the bay windows to the sun that had chased the darkness away. She wasn’t as worried about trekking through the city now that night was done. It seemed less intimidating than when the darkness had blanketed the powerless streets.

  Besides, she didn’t want to be an inconvenience to Rick any more than she already had been. Sarah hated feeling like a bother, and fought most times to do things on her own to avoid putting others out.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll be fine. Hopefully, the police have gotten all the riffraff off the streets. You’ve already done so much, I couldn’t possibly take up any more of your time.”

  Rick dismissed Sarah’s assumption with a flick of his wrist, then shook his head. “It wouldn’t be taking up anymore of my time. It’s not like I’m going to watch TV or anything like that. The power is still out. You would be giving me something to do. Take my mind off this crappy, cramped apartment and my current employment situation.”

  Sarah thought on it some more, and figured it wouldn’t hurt. Having him with her might keep any unsavory types from trying to rob her or anything worse. “Yeah. Why not.”

  “Great.” A warm smile broke across Rick’s stubble-ridden face. He clapped his hands together, and drifted back into the kitchen. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be good to go.” Rick rushed through the kitchen toward his room. He hugged the jamb and vanished from her sight.

  Sarah patted her back pocket for her phone. The slim device was nestled within the trousers. Her fingers gripped the top and pulled it out as she waited for Rick.