Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse

to a rough stop. Clyde shifted into park, killed the engine, then pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Let’s check to see what sort of damage has been done,” Russell said, checking the sideview mirror for any vehicles coming down the interstate.
He tugged on the handle, pushed the door open, then climbed down the pavement. Clyde moved around the front of the Silverado toward the passenger side. Russell closed the door, then peered down at the flat front tire that had been shredded and gashed open.
Clyde kneeled next to the truck, then rubbed his hand over his face. He grabbed a piece of the mangled rubber and pulled. “Not sure what we hit, but it blew it out good.”
“How long do you think it will take to replace it and get back on the road?” Russell asked, pointing at the tire.
“Not too long.” Clyde stood, then faced the bed of the truck. “I’ll get the tire, then work on changing it out.”
Cathy rolled her window down, then draped her arm over the side of the door. “How bad is it?”
Russell looked at the tire, then back to Cathy. “It’s pretty much toast. Clyde is going to change it real quick, then we’ll get back on the road.”
Clyde opened the back driver’s side door.
Max turned and looked at him. Clyde rubbed his head, bent over, and felt under the bench seat. Max’s ears stood on end; gaze focused on the tree line beyond the cab of the truck. He groaned, then stood up in the seat, stepping on Cathy’s leg in the process.
She nudged his back with her hand, then pushed him off. “Yeah. I know you probably need to pee.” Cathy pulled her arm back into the truck, then opened her door. Russell shut it just as fast.
“What are you doing?” Cathy asked. “I don’t think Clyde wants Max hosing down his nice leather seats.”
“I’ll take him over there. You sit here and rest. Keep an eye out for that Trailblazer,” Russell patted the inside of the door. “Come on, bud. Let’s go use the restroom.”
Max’s pink tongue dangled from his mouth. He barked, then leapt from the bench seat to the weeds growing alongside the road.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Cathy said, offering Russell a warm smile.
Russell smiled back. “Not a problem.”
Clyde dropped the tools on the pavement near the tailgate.
Russell walked the length of the bed while watching Max sniff around the weeds, then move closer to the woods beyond. “Do you need a hand with anything?”
“Nope. I got it. Shouldn’t take too long,” Clyde replied, opening the black case that housed the tools.
“Sounds good.” Russell patted the top of the tailgate, then skirted past him, heading for the grass. “Max, come on, bud. Stay in the grass.”
Max paused just shy of entering the woods. He glanced back at Russell with his front paw raised. His ears twitched as if he heard movement within the dense foliage.
“Don’t do it,” Russell said, walking down the slight embankment as Max looked over the trees.
Max barked, then took off into the woods.
Russell sighed, and jogged after him. They’d grown rather close since the day Cathy and Max saved him from the mountain lion after his plane crashed in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The adventures they’d shared brought them closer, creating a tight bond between the two.
They’d faced unscrupulous lawmen who sent them deep into the woods to save Cathy, and fought against ruthless gangs in a small town while trying to gather supplies and medicine.
Max lurked in the verdure, his curved, brown, furry tail catching Russell’s attention through gaps between the bushes and trees. The canine had discovered something.
“Max. Come on. We need to stay close to the truck. This isn’t the best time to poke around.” Russell clapped his hands, craned his neck, and pushed his way through the bushes before him, entering the woods. “I’m not asking again. Let’s go.”
The German shepherd trotted over to him, nose trained to the ground. A rustling noise came from close by. Max paused, turned his head, and searched for the disturbance. He growled and advanced.
Russell reached for the collar around Max’s neck. “Don’t even think about it. Leave whatever it is alone and let’s get back-”
Max took off in a mad dash, charging the sound and pulling away from Russell’s hand.
Crap.
The canine honed in on the animal, trotting through the carpet of leaves and leaping over fallen timber.
Russell ran his hand over his face, then looked back at the truck. The clock was ticking, and they didn’t have time to mess around. He chased after the runaway canine, tracking him down through the trees and bushes.
“Stop this and come here, now!” Russell fought to keep the trotting pup in his view. He skirted past trees and leapt over fallen logs to close the distance between them.
Max had all but vanished, but the crunching of leaves and rustling of bushes allowed Russell to follow him. The sound remained close. He took a moment to catch his breath and searched the dense woods for the elusive canine.
Russell fished out the small bottle of whiskey from his jeans. He peered at the brown tinted bottle with uncertain eyes, thinking of Sarah and how he needed to stop, but the stress of the end of the world proved more challenging to face without the liquid courage.
Just a sip. That’s all you need, Russell told himself.
He took a small swig.
The whiskey splashed against his tongue and down his throat. Russell closed his eyes and savored the flavor of the spirit. He took one more hearty swig, secured the cap on the top, then shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.
Max materialized from around the side of a thick bush with his tongue dangling from his mouth. He panted,