Survive The Fall | Book 3 | Dark Roads, page 14
part #3 of Survive The Fall Series
“If you don’t mind.” Erin folded her arms across her chest and pulled them tight. “I need to figure out what to do with you know who in the back. I had to gag him. He wouldn’t shut up, and I got tired of listening to him threaten me.”
“How far is the police station from here?” Russell asked. “Maybe we can–”
“Oh, great.” Erin nodded at the entrance. “Is that the same black SUV you spotted earlier?”
Russell turned and spotted a black SUV pulling into the parking lot. “It looks to be.”
Erin trembled, watching the vehicle head toward the store. “What are we going to do? Maybe they’re just driving around and will leave. After all, my car’s parked out front, so they’ll see someone is here.”
Max stood rigid at Russell’s side, staring at the inbound SUV.
Russell slung the rucksack over his shoulders, then retrieved the revolver from his waistband. He popped the cylinder out to the side, taking stock of the bullets loaded within. “I doubt that’ll deter them from trying to do anything to your store. I’m inclined to think the worst and hope for the best. Besides, with the police not being anywhere around at the moment, it’d be the perfect time for them to hit these businesses. Alarms won’t be working, and calling the police isn’t an option, not unless you have a HAM radio or something similar. Our best bet is to head to the back of the store and sneak out.”
Erin didn’t seem keen on leaving the store from the look on her face, but she nodded in agreement. “Corporate is going to lose it if they do any damage to the store. That’s the main reason I’ve come up here to check on things. I know how they’d react to suffering any losses, regardless of the reason.”
“Cover the front of your flashlight.” Russell pressed his palm over the beam, reducing the light’s footprint. Erin followed suit. “How do we get to the back entrance of the store?”
“There’s a door near my office that leads to the stock room. It’s pretty messy back there at the moment. We received a shipment of product the day we lost power, so there are pallets and boxes all over the receiving area,” Erin answered.
The SUV pulled close to the building, stopping shy of the bright-yellow concrete pillars in front of the double sliding doors. The headlights flicked on, casting its high intensity beams inside the store’s dark interior.
Russell ducked.
Erin mimicked him.
Max growled a bit louder.
They stooped in the aisle, then retreated toward the back of the store. The light from the vehicle drew close to their position, but faded before reaching them.
Erin skirted the edge of the shelving and hid behind the endcap.
Max and Russell took cover behind the shelving at the end of the aisle next to them.
“What are they doing?” Erin stayed out of sight with her hand still pressed to the end of the flashlight.
Russell moved Max out of the way, then peered around the edge of the shelving.
A shadowy figure stood at the glass doors, looking inside. The headlights shining behind him made it difficult to make him out.
He hammered the door.
Max teetered on the edge of barking, his growls growing more intense.
“Shhhh.” Russell pet the top of his head to keep him calm and collected.
The man pounded the glass door again, then waited for a response.
“I guess they’re trying to see if anybody is here or not,” Russell said.
Black Mustache’s muffled voice tingled his ear.
Russell looked toward the pharmacy, spotting the shadowy silhouette of his body. “Where’s the bathroom at?”
“In the corner, just past the pharmacy there,” Erin replied.
“All right. Wait here. Max, stay quiet.”
“What are you doing?” Erin asked, puzzled.
“I’m going to move Black Mustache inside the bathroom, so they don’t spot him right away. I doubt that’ll be one of their main places to check.” Russell thumbed the switch to his flashlight, then crammed the revolver in his waistband. He skulked through the blackness to the bound and gagged man.
His vision had grown accustomed to the lack of light. The vague shapes of the shelves and other items offered a subtle layout of the store.
Russell grabbed what little bit of cable he could near Black Mustache’s feet, and dragged him across the floor toward the bathroom.
The hammering from up front ceased.
Russell turned his head to the side, but couldn’t lay eyes on the entrance.
What are they up to?
Black Mustache jerked his arms, and tried to speak through the rag Erin stuffed his mouth with.
“Pipe down, will ya?” Russell turned the light back on, keeping the beam trained at the floor. He backed into the bathroom door, pushing it open.
Black Mustache thrashed, fighting to free his arms and legs. The cable bound around his ankles and wrists held firm.
The scent of cleaning agents and a hint of lavender permeated the air. Russell’s boots squeaked against the floor.
Russell placed Black Mustache under the sink, then patted him on the top of his head. “Take a nap or something. We’ll send the cops by to pick you up a bit later.”
Black Mustache turned his head to the side, then tried to look up at Russell. He screamed through the gag, tugging at his wrists.
Russell left him to the confines of the small restroom and headed out. He pulled the door open, then raced back over to Max’s side. “We should be good for a bit.”
“Come on. I’ll take us to the receiving area.” Erin backed away from the shelving.
“Go on.” Russell patted Max’s side, sending him darting across the aisle to Erin.
He peered at the front entrance, watching two men fiddle with the door. They had something jammed in the crevasse–perhaps a crowbar or something of the sort to pry it open.
Russell palmed his light and ran past the aisle, catching up with Erin and Max.
They sprinted along the back wall, past her office, to the lone black door.
Erin pushed her way through the dense, plastic, swinging door.
Max stayed on her heels.
A loud banging noise sounded from the front of the store, stopping Russell shy of the stock room. He craned his neck, trying to peer over the shelves, but couldn’t clear the tops of the mountainous racks.
“Watch your step back here. It’s a cluttered mess,” Erin said.
Russell slipped inside the receiving area, allowing the door to swing about on its hinges.
The lack of air circulating made it warm inside the enclosed building. The stock room felt worse, stifling even.
Erin navigated the maze of pallets and stacks of boxes covering the floor. She skirted past mounds of flattened boxes that had been emptied out.
A row of steel beams and racks ran the length of the wall that butted up to the pharmacy. Each section sat fully stocked with an array of products.
A scant bit of light shone through the edges around the roll up bay door they passed, bleeding into the stock room.
“The receiving door is right up here.” Erin trained the light ahead of them, cutting through the shadows.
Max paused, stopping dead in his tracks.
“What is it?” Russell asked, taking a knee at his side. “Hold up a minute.”
Erin turned around. She shined her light at them. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s picked something up.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RUSSELL
Max lowered his head and focused his gaze in the direction of the receiving door. His body tensed, muscles taut. He took a step forward, then growled.
The receiving door shuddered.
Erin turned toward the noise, then gasped. Her light trained on the gunmetal surface and held.
“They’re out back as well,” she said, in a frightened whisper. The door pushed out, but the deadbolt kept it from opening.
“Aside from the front entrance and the receiving door, is there another exit we could use?” Russell asked.
Erin shook her head. “Just those two and well, the roll up door. We have an emergency exit, but the door is messed up and won’t open. It hasn’t been fixed yet.”
Great.
The people outside the rear of the store continued messing with the door. The sound of metal scraping over the exterior surface made Russell cringe–like fingernails over a chalkboard.
“Okay. We need to find a place to hold up,” Russell said. “Can your office door be locked?”
Erin nodded. “It’s got a deadbolt on it.”
“Good. Come on.” Russell grabbed Max by his collar and turned him around. The agitated German shepherd obeyed without resistance and followed his lead.
Russell moved through the maze of pallets to the swinging door. He pushed it open to the sound of shattering glass. “Hurry up.”
They hurried along the back wall to Erin’s office. The crunching of glass filled Russell’s ears. He thumbed his flashlight off and stowed it in the back pocket of his jeans.
He stood to the side of the door, motioning for Erin to get inside.
She killed her light and entered the ether of blackness.
“Lock this door and stay quiet,” he whispered. “There are no windows, so they won’t be able to see inside. Jam a chair under the handle if you need to, just be as quiet as possible.”
“Are you not coming inside?” Erin stood in the blinding darkness, the vague outline of her frame visible.
“I’m going to try and draw them away from here, but I want you safe.” Russell grabbed the handle and pulled the door toward him.
Erin caught the door with the side of her foot. “Just come in here where it’s safe.”
“Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. I promise,” Russell replied, reassuring her the best he could.
Erin removed her foot, and Russell closed the door.
The deadbolt clicked. He tested the handle to be sure. The door didn’t budge.
“Come on, Max.” Russell patted his leg, then ran away from the office. His mind worked to plot out some sort of game plan to rid the store of the vandals.
Lights moved around in the air, cutting through the darkness with ease. The beams helped to track their movement and positions within the building.
Max stayed at his handler’s side, mimicking his every move as they skulked through the blackness.
Russell darted past the entrance to the receiving area, catching multiple beams of light from under and around the swinging door. By his count, at least four men had breached the building.
The intruders’ voices carried throughout the store, barking at one another in a hostile manner.
“I don’t give two shits about packs of smokes or anything of the sort,” a raspy voice said, shouting loud. “We’re not here for that–only the money. Plain and simple. That car out front belongs to the manager of the store. Bill should’ve stopped by earlier to check things out. I’m not sure where the hell he’s at, but we need to search the store to see if we can find her. Just because the cops aren’t around at the moment doesn’t mean they won’t drop in on us, so we need to move fast.”
Russell crept along the aisle on the far side of the store– away from the main entrance and stock room. His fingers adjusted over the grip of the revolver. He drew a sharp breath and held it for a moment.
Think, think, think, Russell said, to himself.
He had no intentions of gunning down the men if he didn’t have to, but would if it meant the difference between Erin, Max, and Russell living or dying.
A light traced along the floor that ran in front of the aisle Russell and Max took cover behind. The strident beam grew brighter. Footfalls squeaked against the tile, drawing closer to them.
Max growled, low and subtle.
Russell shushed him as they neared the edge of the shelving–the revolver trained dead ahead. He paused, stooped down some, then peered through the gap between the shelves. His body stayed hidden–concealed by the steel rack and various dry goods stacked in nice, neat rows. The revolver had just four rounds left. He’d have to make each shot count.
The man stopped shy of the aisle on the other side. His light swept the dark corner in front of him, illuminating the small photo center area. The beam focused on the counter, then the cash register that sat hidden among the pamphlets and other marketing materials. He walked toward the counter and scanned over the register.
Russell stepped out from the aisle, then looked to the sunlight that shone through the busted doors. He didn’t spot any movement near the opening. No black clad figures moved in the murk. He had his window to strike while the man had his back turned to him.
His pulse spiked with each step he took toward the distracted man. He shifted his gaze to the entrance of the store, then back to his target.
The light sat on the counter, facing the register and wall lined with an array of camera accessories and printing products. The man leaned over the top of the counter, messing with something hidden from Russell’s sight. His rail-thin frame shifted from side to side as he jerked his arms.
Russell stalked the man with the revolver trained at the back of his skull.
“Screw this.” The man stood up straight, grabbed the light, then took a step back from the edge of the counter.
Russell struck the back of his head with the base of the revolver’s grip–hard and violent.
A faint yelp fled the man’s lips. His knees buckled. The flashlight dropped from his hand and hit the floor.
Damn it.
Russell caught him by the arms before he hit the ground. He dragged the unconscious man’s body back down the aisle, then laid him on the floor.
Max sniffed his body, then pawed at his long-sleeve shirt.
The shadow of a figure loomed on the wall at the entrance of the building. It paused, then moved inside the store.
Russell stepped around Max, then made for the flashlight that sat on the floor. He retrieved the light, then thumbed the switch.
The beam vanished, allowing the darkness to cast its shroud over him.
The figure casting the shadow crunched through the shards of broken glass. He stopped inside the entryway and skimmed over the store.
Russell stayed low and retreated to the far aisle. He patted the man down, feeling for a weapon, but came up empty.
A loud banging noise sounded from the back of the building.
Erin.
Russell moved down the length of the aisle toward the back of the store with Max fixed on his heels. They neared the end of the aisle and held their positions.
One of the vandals stood in front of Erin’s office, hammering the door with his fists. The flashlight rested on its side, trained at the scarred and scuffed surface of the door.
A portion of the light lit up the black ski mask he wore and the crowbar clutched in his hand. He lifted it over his head, then swatted at the handle. The steel end clanged off the silver handle and the exterior of the door.
Light shone from the pharmacy out to the store. A shadowy figure walked out from behind the counter and stopped. “Hey, stop that for a second, will ya?”
Ski-mask struck the handle one last time, then turned toward him. “Why? There could be something of value in here. Why else would it be locked?”
“Just hold on. I thought I heard something back here.” He stood still, just beyond the entrance to the pharmacy. The light shifted in the direction of the bathroom, illuminating the sign on the door. “I think someone’s in there.”
“Then go check it out and see,” Ski-mask replied.
The figure moved toward the bathroom, opened the door, then disappeared inside.
Russell skirted the end of the shelving and ran toward Erin’s office with the revolver trained dead ahead.
Max galloped past Russell, his claws scraping off the floor.
Ski-mask froze with the crowbar above his head, then turned toward them. “What the–” He swung at the air, missing the top of Max’s head and hitting the shelves in front of Erin’s office.
Max bit his lower leg and thrashed his head.
The door to the bathroom creaked open.
Russell fired to the side of the door, sending the men retreating back into the restroom. The report echoed through the building.
“What the hell is going on back there?” a loud, angry voice asked. “Who’s firing?”
“Ah. Get this damn dog off me.” Ski-mask tugged at his leg.
Max dragged him away from the door with ease.
Ski-mask took another swing at the German shepherd.
Russell blocked his arm, ripped the crowbar from his hands, then punched him in the face.
Ski-mask lost his balance and fell to the floor.
Max released his leg and lunged at the man’s flailing arms.
“It’s me. Open up.” Russell hammered the door with his fists.
The deadbolt clicked.
Erin cracked the door, then peered around the edge. “Who’s firing?”
Russell pushed the door open farther, then reached inside. “Come on. I think we can slip out of the back, but we need to go now.”
“Will someone tell me what the hell is happening back there?” The angered voice drew closer, the light playing off the floor from down the aisle to their left.
The bathroom door opened again. Flashes of muzzle fire lit up the interior, followed by the crackle of the weapon discharging.
The bullet went wide, missing them by a good foot or more.
Russell found Erin’s wrist and pulled her out of her office. He returned fire. “Max, come.”
Ski-mask wailed in agony from the flat of his back, trying to rid himself of the protective canine.
Max released his forearm, barking and growling at the injured man. He inched toward the light, the beam growing larger and brighter.
“Max, now,” Russell said, stern and direct.
Erin ran hard for the receiving door as Russell covered their retreat.
The revolver moved from the bathroom to the aisle where the light traced their way, then back again. The cylinder sat ready with just two rounds remaining. Russell’s finger hugged the trigger, ready to squeeze if need be.
