Survive The Fall | Book 4 | Total Collapse

grass, then back onto the road.
The engine rumbled. Fear kept her foot glued to the pedal and the Chevelle racing toward the last bend in the driveway.
Sarah spun the steering wheel clockwise–following the curve of the road. The muscle car stayed on the smooth surface of the driveway with only a fraction of the tires tearing through earth. She hit a straightaway that climbed the short hill and wound through the opening between the white farm fencing that rimmed the periphery of the property.
The road looked free and clear of any inbound traffic from the quick glance Sarah gave to both directions of the highway. Her foot pumped the brake as her hands twisted the wheel counterclockwise.
The Chevelle went airborne over the lip from the driveway to the highway at an angle. The tires left the safety of the ground for only a second before touching asphalt. The muscle car hit as the back end went wide.
The duty bag in the bucket seat next to her slammed the inside of the passenger door. The shotgun rattled against the dash, then fell between the seat and door.
Sarah worked the wheel, keeping the bullish beast out of the ditch and on the road. The car swerved a bit more before she eased off the gas and the back end stopped swaying.
Her knuckles clenched the wheel at ten and two. The tops turned white from the tight grip. She shifted into the next gear, keeping the pedal pressed to the floor and the engine running full out.
Sarah took a deep breath, held it for a moment to calm her frayed nerves, then exhaled slowly. Her pulse raced almost as fast as the Chevelle’s mammoth engine. The beating of her heart lessened the farther away she drove.
The muscle car flew down the highway at max speed. Sarah peered into the rearview mirror, then the small rounded mirror on the driver’s side door. She struggled to grasp what all had transpired and what could be coming next.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
 
 
RUSSELL
The city swelled with chaos and showed no signs of relief.
Russell helped Cathy down the sidewalk, lugging her spent and tired frame as fast as they could move. His hand grabbed her wrist tight, keeping her upright and going.
She panted hard. Her eyes gleamed with wetness. Her pace slowed even more. Her body hinged on giving out. The mass of rioting and utter discord stalking them at every turn they made kept them on the move.
The police had all but vanished, leaving the streets to the vile thugs and other degenerates who sought to wreak as much havoc as they could. People were thrown to the concrete and beaten to an inch of their lives. Alcohol bombs smashed against business windows, setting the buildings ablaze. Any sort of lull in the depravity felt short lived.
Clyde led the pack with Gold Chain’s piece trained ahead of him. He swept the alleys and any blind spots of the buildings they passed for any looming threats.
Max trotted at Cathy’s side. His head stayed on a swivel. He growled at any and all who dared to cross his gaze.
“We need to hold up for a bit,” Russell said, breathless and tired.
Clyde peered over his shoulder. “You want to stop in the middle of all of this?”
Russell’s chest heaved. The muscles in his legs burned with exhaustion. Shouldering Cathy’s weight had placed a knot in his back. “Yeah. She needs a break and so do we.”
“Where the hell are we going to hold up?” Clyde asked, staring at the sidewalk ahead of them. “It’s difficult to tell what is safe and what isn’t.”
“I don’t know, but we need to lay low for a bit, or we’re going to have much bigger problems on our hands,” Russell shot back, glancing at Cathy’s haggard face.
The door to a shop a few paces ahead of them flew open.
Clyde zeroed in on the two masked men who rushed from the building with arms full of a variety of food and other goods that dropped to the concrete. They stared at Clyde, then the others, and ran the opposite way.
“What’s in there?” Russell asked, nodding at the building the two men came rushing out of.
Clyde slowed to a quick walk, then veered toward the building with the compact pistol trained at the entrance. Max stepped in front of Cathy and Russell, flanking Clyde as he peered around the blind corner.
“Looks like a small grocery store from what I can see.” Clyde moved past the edge of the wall to the entrance. “It’s a bit dark inside and looks to be a total mess from what I can see. I don’t hear any movement, though, and the windows along the front are still intact.”
Gunfire crackled and mixed with the other billion sounds that swarmed the city. Screams of panic kept everyone on edge and looking over their shoulders.
“It’ll do for a bit.” Russell carried Cathy toward the entrance.
Clyde advanced through the opened door with Max hot on his heels. He swept the periphery of the ransacked store, then moved out of the way.
Cathy didn’t voice her opinion on stopping and taking a moment to rest. Russell wouldn’t have listened anyway. She needed to give her leg a break and get more medicine to manage the pain, whether she liked it or not.
“Almost there,” he said, assisting her across the store to the far wall.
Clyde closed the door behind them, then secured the deadbolt.
Max sniffed the floor and the array of food and other items that laid before him.
Russell stopped, lifted her arm over his head, then helped her to the floor.
Cathy grit her teeth and scrunched her face on the way down. She leaned back against the empty shelves, then exhaled. Her wounded leg stretched out in front