Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse

their arguments got, but they seemed nice enough.
Sarah remembered Mr. Johnson always telling her father that if he needed anything at all, to let him know. She hoped that was still the case.

CHAPTER TEN
 
 
SARAH
The house vanished within the meld of trees and verdure.
The canopy of rich, green leaves blotted out the sky, casting the woods in partial darkness. Small slivers of sunlight shone through any gaps within the covering, lighting the forest floor. Shadows lurked within the deep recess of the woods.
Branches snapped under Sarah’s bulk. The blades of tall grass brushed against her legs. The tips tickled her palms. It had been many years since she had walked the peaceful and serene space that she once explored. She had forgotten how quiet and otherworldly the woods were.
Birds sang their songs above her head–chirping and batting their wings as they flew out to the open sky. Squirrels raced down the thick trunks of the trees and vanished within the grass.
Sarah adjusted the strap of the duty bag. Her shoulder ached from the added weight. She wasn’t used to walking as much while carrying additional bulk. It made her realize just how out of shape she had gotten over the years.
The Johnson’s home wasn’t much farther once she passed through the tree line, as far as she could remember. About another five minutes or so, and she’d be there.
A tremor of thunder rolled in the distance.
Sarah looked to the lush green cover overhead, peering through the small openings to the dull, gray sky.
Looks like rain could be coming, she thought, watching what little bit of the sky she could see.
The temperature dropped some within the recesses of the woods, giving her a reprieve from the day’s warmth.
An open field lurked beyond the wall of trees that Sarah approached. She craned her neck and searched for the roof of the home that sat at the bottom of the hill, but spotted nothing but more trees and verdure.
The back of her hand wiped away the beads of sweat that raced from her matted strands of hair. She pinched the front of her shirt and pulled it away from the tackiness of her skin.
Sarah stopped at the edge of the woods and took a moment to rest. Her forearm leaned against the tree trunk she stood next to. She breathed heavily, exhausted from lack of proper sleep and nutrition.
A dull pain lingered in her ankle from the endless walking she had done and jumping from that warehouse building after fleeing from Leatherface and her stalker. The discomfort had lessened, but had not gone away all together.
Sarah lifted her leg, massaged her ankle as best she could through her boot, then got back on the move. A deep exhale left her mouth as she pushed away from the tree and continued out into the expanse of the open field. She made her way down the hill through the swaying grass toward the white farm fencing.
The Johnson’s two-story brick home came into view as did the other smaller buildings that surrounded the back half of the large property. A wall of trees lined the perimeter of the sprawling estate, offering snapshots of the home. She couldn’t spot any movement on the grounds around the house or any vehicles parked outside, but still, she hoped someone was there.
Sarah ducked and stepped through the opening within the farm fencing. She cradled the bag next to her side to keep it from getting caught on the white planks of wood. The barrel of the shotgun clattered off the boards. She bent farther, grabbed the stock of the shotgun, and pulled her other leg through.
The tall grass changed to a well-manicured lawn that had been cut regularly. A variety of bushes, shrubs, and flowers filled the spaces between the trees. Each had been cut and well groomed, matching the others she’d spied close by.
Sarah skirted past the wall of vegetation and passed through a small gap that dumped her out near their concrete driveway. She paused, skimmed over the house and massive back yard, then the cream-colored steel building to her left.
A covered vehicle was parked in front of the garage door. Sarah wondered if it was Mr. Johnson’s 1970 Chevelle SS. She remembered him driving the dark-blue muscle car with white racing stripes to her parent’s house to show her dad. They’d stand outside and have a drink while conversing about the car and tinkering under the hood on the beefy engine.
The sling of the rifle slid down her shoulder. Sarah pulled it back up and stepped on the edge of the concrete drive. She looked at the closed garage door, then over to the front corner of the home.
Sarah walked toward the sidewalk when a loud banging noise sounded from the back of the house. She stopped, then peered past the bushes at the lush green backyard. “Hello?”
No response came.
Her hand tightened over the sling of the shotgun. She trained an attentive ear, listening for any other sounds to indicate movement from the back of the home, but heard none.
Sarah turned and made for the garage door, then moved down to the blind corner before the bushes. Her shoulder pressed to the small brick portion of the wall between the garage door and the corner of the home. She toed the edge of the concrete, then leaned forward.
The backyard sat empty of anyone lurking about. She glanced at the shed and other buildings close by, but spotted nothing. Sarah stepped down to the red lava rock that filled the landscaping behind the house.
“Mr. or Mrs. Johnson?” Sarah crept around the bushes and made her way down the row of colorful flowers and plants that lined the home.
Her head stayed on a swivel–ears open to any and all subtle sounds.
Darkness lurked within the