Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse

breaths, glanced at her leg, then got back on the move.
Russell held his tongue, not wanting to ruffle her feathers. She knew that Clyde and him were there for her, and she didn’t need them treating her as some fragile, helpless woman.
“Max, heel,” Cathy said, limping down the sidewalk.
The German shepherd lowered his head, trotted to the sidewalk, and followed his handler on her left side, keeping pace with Cathy.
Russell grabbed the straps of the rucksack and pulled, bringing it closer to his back and reducing the shifting of the weighted pack. He examined the buildings on the far side of the street. The powerless structures had little activity within.
The reports of distant gunfire kept them alert and on guard. They watched the streets and buildings, searching for any armed individuals.
Russell’s hand hovered close to his waist, ready to draw on a moment’s notice. His nerves twisted–bound tight by the gunshots and other ominous sounds of distress the city suffered.
Clyde walked about ten paces or so ahead of Cathy, studying the businesses and any alleyways they crossed. He peered through the windows, studying the dark interiors for movement, then moved on.
A handful of folks ran from the passageway behind them onto the street and down the sidewalk. Their haggard faces peered at Russell as he stepped closer to the buildings to get out of their way. His hand grabbed the grip of the Ruger, but he didn’t pull it.
Max turned and growled at the approaching surge of people. His bark and size sent the handful of folks leaping from the sidewalk in fear and running across the street to the other side. He inched forward, drawing closer to the edge of the curb.
Cathy snapped her fingers. “Leave them be.”
He glanced back to his handler who stayed on the move. He offered one last look at the fleeing people and galloped to her side.
Clyde crossed the alleyway and continued on to the next intersection. He slowed and crept toward the blind corner of the bakery. He peered around the edge, then leaned back.
“What’s wrong?” Russell asked, jogging up next to Max and Cathy.
He turned and faced them. The barrel of his rifle scraped along the building. He pointed at the street. “It’s a total mess down there. Cop cars burning and smoke lifting into the air. What a shit show this is.”
“We weren’t going that way anyway, right?” Russell asked, keeping his hand near the Ruger. “We’re staying on this street and heading farther down since it looks clear, for now.”
“Yeah, we’re not, but it’s just strange to see all of this,” Clyde replied, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day the United States would crumble instead of coming together and pushing through this crisis. Sickens me to no end. Bastards.”
Cathy kept moving past the corner of the building. She searched the streets for any cars or rioters, then continued across the crosswalk with Max at her side.
Clyde and Russell followed behind, watching their backs and glancing at the burning vehicles and flashing red and blue lights that flickered, then died on top of the cruisers consumed by flames.
Russell plugged his nose against the stench of smoke tainting the air and filling the sky. He couldn’t help but watch the gut-wrenching scene of the officers battling the unhinged rioters.
Cathy and Max stepped onto the curb and continued down the sidewalk. She drew closer to the long stretch of buildings, pressing her hand against the structures and using each as a crutch.
A car pulled around the curb at the intersection a block down the street and headed their way. Cathy continued on, giving the vehicle a quick glance and trudging along next to the buildings.
The older, dark-gray Oldsmobile Cutlass drove at a snail’s pace. The black tinted windows of the vehicle hid the occupants inside.
Russell watched the car creep past them, trying to pierce the blacked-out windows. The silhouette of a body loomed on the other side of the glass. They slowed even more.
A sinking feeling gnawed at Russell’s stomach. A lump lodged in his throat. His fingers twitched–palms sweaty. He kept his hand close to his waist, eyes fixed on the Cutlass as it continued past them.
“You all right?” Clyde asked, looking at Russell.
The car drove down the street, then vanished down one of the alleys.
“Yeah. Just on edge is all,” Russell replied with his attention focused in the direction where the Cutlass disappeared. “Trying to keep a watchful eye out for any trouble.”
“Like that.” Clyde pointed across the street at a group of young men who watched them closely. “The way they’re looking at us isn’t setting well with me. They could be looking to rob us or just kill us because they can. Either way, I don’t feel like getting gunned down in the street.”
Russell focused on the four young men who were smoking. They looked to be in their late teens to early twenties. Each wore saggy pants that dipped below their waists. A variety of hats sat crooked on their heads. Gold chains dangled from around their necks, resting against the white and black tank tops covering their gaunt chests. They spoke to each other, then pointed in Russell’s direction.
“We need to get off the street,” Russell said, maintaining eye contact with the group.
They discarded their cigarettes and walked down the sidewalk, looking at them with malevolent eyes.
Cathy stopped, then glanced back at Russell. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“We have trouble coming.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
 
 
RUSSELL
Clyde reached for his rifle, then muttered under his breath, “Damn gang bangers.”
Russell grabbed Clyde’s wrist, keeping his eyes trained on the four young men walking down the sidewalk across the street. “Save it. The last thing we need to do is get into a shoot-out on the street.” Russell released Clyde’s arm.