Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse

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Sarah slapped the steering wheel, then threw her head back against the padded headrest. She closed her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands to her face, battling the strained nerves and mixed emotions boiling in the pit of her stomach.
A car flew by the broken-down cruiser, snapping Sarah out of her agitated state. She searched the squad car for anything of value, finding nothing more than the police issued 12-gauge shotgun mounted to the dash behind the computer terminal.
Sarah removed the shotgun, checked the driver’s sideview mirror for any incoming traffic, then tossed the door open. A hissing noise met her ears along with the potent smell of the smoke seeping out from under the crumpled hood. She leaned back inside the car, removed the keys from the ignition, and made her way toward the rear of the vehicle.
The back end of the squad car’s body had multiple dents lining the bumper. The paint had been scrapped off in spots. The trunk lid near the lock had been bent in. The left taillight sat in ruins, the red plastic busted and gone.
Sarah set the shotgun on the ground and leaned it against the bumper. She thumbed through the keys and tested each in the damaged lock until she found the right one.
The trunk lid creaked open. It stopped halfway up. Sarah grabbed the bottom lip and forced it up. She took stock of the gear stowed in the compartment.
A bullet proof vest, duty bag, first aid kit, crime scene materials, and other equipment caught her eye. She rifled through the contents, opening the duty bag and rummaging through the extra ammo and handcuffs stored inside. A Glock 22 was nestled between the boxes of ammo and the end of the bag.
Sarah pulled it out and ejected the magazine, finding it to be fully stocked. She racked the slide, secured the piece in the waistband of her jeans, then pulled her shirt over the weapon.
The first aid kit was added to the duty bag on top—a tight fit, but Sarah made it work. She zipped the top closed, yanked it from the trunk, then slammed the lid down.
Sarah slipped the black strap over her head and onto her shoulder. The bulk of the bag weighed her down some, but she didn’t have far to go. She retrieved the shotgun, trudged through the grass past the passenger side of the cruiser, then stopped and looked at the smoking vehicle. Leaving the car exposed on the side of the road would draw unwanted attention, more than she had already received, but she didn’t have a choice, and she couldn’t roll it anywhere.
She left the wreckage behind, keeping to the grass and following the road past the bend. The bulk of the go bag hurt her back. Sarah adjusted the strap, feeling the strain on her battered body and tired legs. She kept her head down, eyes trained on the grass to avoid eye contact with any vehicles that rushed past her.
The long driveway leading to her parents’ house came into view past the row of trees that lined both sides of the drive. She checked the road for any inbound traffic, then hoofed it to the other side.
Her knees throbbed and ached. The duty bag slapped her side and jostled about. A twinge of pain lanced up her leg with each step. She clenched her jaw, battling the discomfort.
Sarah stopped at the mailbox and leaned against it for a moment. Her hands massaged her knees to relieve the discomfort festering in both. A small portion of her parents’ house appeared through a gap within the tree line. A sense of relief washed over her.
She continued down the gravel entrance of the driveway, moving closer to the wall of trees that lined both sides. The canopy overhead provided shade, giving her a reprieve from the sun. The slight breeze blew against her flush, sweaty skin. Birds chirped. Squirrels zipped up the trunks and over the long, thick branches, rustling the leaves.
The duty bag grew heavier on her shoulder, increasing the discomfort already there. Her shoes shuffled through the blades of grass and gravel that covered the ground.
The back of her hand wiped the sweat from her brow. The inside of her mouth was dry. Her stomach rumbled, begging for any source of nutrients. She hated walking the long driveway, and had bad memories of doing it from an early age to retrieve the mail or any other such requests her parents asked of her.
The house drew closer. The light and dark-tinted brick of the home bled through the low-lying branches. The black shutters mounted on either side of windows to her folks’ bedroom caught her eye.
A sense of relief built inside of her. Sarah looked forward to dropping the duty bag and sitting down to rest in her father’s favorite plush, brown leather recliner without having to worry about peering over her shoulder.
The home would be quiet since her folks had gone to Europe for an extended trip to stay with close friends. Sarah wouldn’t have to deal with her parents’ complaining about how her life had spiraled from the happiness she knew since losing Jess. Despite the tension around their relationship, Sarah loved them just the same. She hoped they were safe across the pond and looked forward to seeing them again, whenever that might be.
Sarah followed the driveway past the row of trees toward the large, single-story brick home. She bypassed the sidewalk that snaked through the tall weeds to the front door and made her way to the back of the house.
Her father’s workshop sat in the far corner of the lot. The large steel building housed expensive equipment and his woodworking projects that he designed and made—a retirement gift to himself-to keep him occupied and out of her mother’s hair.
The landscaping around the side of