A World Slowed

by Rick Tippins

  “You’re gonna die up there without help, you know,” Bob started. “Most of you are going to die within the next six months, check that, the next three months.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jared asked, his face scrunched in confusion.

  Bob held out his hand. “Give me all your electronics. Come on, I’ll give ’em back.”

  Jared slowly pulled off his watch and handed the useless timepiece to Bob.

  Bob held the watch up, inspecting it from several angles as if this would lend credibility to whatever he would say following his examination of the former timekeeper. “It’s fried, along with all the other electronics. They’re all gone.”

  Jared nodded.

  “Seems like everything got caught up in some power surge.” Bob pursed his lips tightly together. “One of two things happened up there. Either there was one heck of a solar flare, or we are at war and folks have seen fit to detonate some sort of electromagnetic pulse weapon.”

  “Wouldn’t that have killed a bunch of people?” Jared argued.

  “Nope, if it is what I think it is, they detonate a couple of hundred miles in the sky and, most of the time, you wouldn’t even know something had happened.”

  Jared mused this over in the darkness, thinking about all his things that ran on electricity. Everything ran on it nowadays; every single useful thing in Jared’s life ran off some type of energy source and had at least a small circuit board of some sort.

  Bob leaned into Jared. “Man, are you putting this together? Everything is gone. This area has about three days’ supply of food—after that, chaos.” Bob licked his lips as he continued, “Man, all the trucks and trains that bring this food in are dead. No more food means people are gonna start fighting and killing each other very soon for the little bit that’s left.”

  Jared’s head was swimming as he listened to the homeless man.

  Bob went on. “No cops, no firefighters, no nothing. You wanna go home, you walk or ride a bike, no more cars, bro.” Bob swept his hands around his living quarters. “Even I’m going to have to get the hell out of here before they scavenge everything up there and then come down here to see what I have.”

  Jared shook his head. “No way, man, no way, not everything, not like that.”

  Bob nodded towards the street. “You hear any sirens since you been down here?”

  Jared shook his head.

  “Hell no you didn’t, ’cause there aren’t no cops anymore. They probably all walked home.”

  Once again, the two sat in silence, each man pondering their very questionable future.

  Jared was the first to break the silence. “I gotta get home and figure out what’s going on and what I’m going to do.” He rose slowly to his feet. He really didn’t want to walk up and out of this creek bed and face whatever evil lurked in the darkness above. Once on his feet, Jared realized he was exhausted beyond words. Every joint, ligament and bone in his body ached as if he’d been run over by a truck.

  “Sit down, Jared,” Bob said, his voice low and soft like a father about to impart some valuable knowledge to a son. “You can’t go anywhere around this place in the dark. They may kill you.”

  Jared shifted his feet in the muck. “I have to get home.”

  Bob smiled in the blackness, showing yellowed teeth. “You can stay here. It’ll suck, but you won’t get your ass beat up and robbed, and I’ll give you some advice that may save your life.”

  Jared remained standing as Bob patted the dirty pallet with a dirtier hand. “Sit down, my friend, and listen.”

  Jared slowly succumbed to Bob’s patting of the pallet, slumping to the ground next to the filthy, homeless former Army infantryman.

  “What advice is going to save my life, Bob?”

  Bob reached under the pallet and produced a bottle of cheap vodka. Jared stared at the label and could not say he had ever even heard of the brand. The bottle was plastic, which Jared figured could not be a good thing. Bob unscrewed the top and tilted the bottle to his lips, allowing the clear fluid to pour down his throat. When he was finished, he placed the cap back on the bottle and tightened it before reverently returning the bottle to its hiding spot under the pallet. Jared thought Bob’s drinking of the vodka appeared almost like a religious ceremony. He almost stood and marched straight up the embankment and out onto the street, but the images of the men beating the hapless man danced across his mind’s eye, and that was enough to affix his ass to the pallet next to Bob the bum.

  “Jared, you’re gonna have to ride this first part out in a hiding spot, with food and water. You need weapons, or a weapon, and you need to know how to use it and be willing to use it.”

  Jared shook his head. “I’m not really a weapon guy. Jared paused. “Plus, I’m going to my place; I have some food there.”

  Bob’s eyes flashed with more than a little anger. “You’re not getting the severity of your situation, man. People will come to your place and kill you for your food. That’s gonna happen in about a week.”

  Bob droned on into the night, telling Jared about the need to find a weapon and figure out how to use the weapon. He told Jared about all the different types of guns that could be found in abandoned homes, and the importance of ammunition for these guns. Bob talked, only stopping to reverently pull the vodka out, unscrew the top, take a long draw, and then return the bottle to its berth.

  Bob talked about Iraq and the things he’d seen while he was deployed. He told Jared he had been engaged when he left and found out his fiancée was being a little less than faithful when he returned, which soured Bob on women for years to come. Jared listened as Bob preached about the importance of getting out of the Bay Area sooner than later. Bob ranted about finding a hiding place where Jared could hole up while the population murdered and starved itself to death. He warned of an unfriendly welcome in the rural areas, where people would be struggling to survive just like everyone else.

  “Country folk won’t have much use for you city types. They got no use for someone who ain’t no use.” Bob talked about traveling at night once Jared cleared the city areas, and the importance of staying off the roads and using binoculars to check an area before passing through it. Bob lectured about getting to an outdoors store, and what things were important to take and what things weren’t. He harped long and hard about the weight of the survival equipment Jared would need.

  “You’re gonna be on a bike or walking, so you can’t take everything with you. Take only what is essential, and take the lightest version of it.” Bob belabored the weight issue till Jared stopped him and declared he totally understood.

  “Good shoes too, my man, hurt your feet and you’re dead in the water. If you can’t walk, you can’t get food or water and you die.”

  Every bit of advice Bob gave ended this way: if Jared failed to follow said advice, he would die. Don’t hide, die; don’t get good shoes, die; and so it went for hours into the night.

  Bob was adamant that Jared not drink any creek or lake water until a few months into the event. His reasoning was that the world was going to be most violent in the first few months, and Jared could not afford to be deathly ill for five days while everyone was killing each other. Bob’s advice was to survive the first three months and then gather a weeks’ worth of food and water, find a safe place to be a mess, and drink away. Once Jared’s body had built immunity to whatever adulterants live in the waters of California, he could ditch the water-purification pump, making his gear even lighter. Bob was insistent on a good water-purification system early on in Jared’s future.

  “Get something tomorrow,” Bob said.

  Bob talked about all sorts of tricks for finding water, animals and plants one could eat, but mostly he stressed the importance of a weapon. Jared needed a pistol and a rifle, Bob said. The pistol was in case he was forced to fight in a confined space or getting to the rifle wasn’t an option. Bob talked about finding a short-barreled rifle Jared could conceal. Bob felt people would shoot first when deal
ing with an armed person, and just maybe they wouldn’t shoot at an unarmed man. This, he said, included robbers and landowners alike.

  “They see you’re armed and they intend to rob you, they’re going to set an ambush and just kill your ass. They think you’re not armed, they’re more likely to try to suck you in with some ruse.” Bob’s lessons always had an element of tactics and maneuvering to place Jared at an advantage in all his scenarios.

  After what seemed like hours of listening to Bob’s tireless monologue, Jared simply stopped listening, closed his eyes, and was asleep. He never knew when Bob stopped or how many lesson plans Bob delivered that he never heard, but when Jared opened his eyes, the sun was up.

  Chapter Eight

  Bob was passed out cold, a white boney foot protruding from under the heap of rags he called his bed. Jared just stared at the man’s foot for a long while, thinking about the last two days’ events. He finally pulled himself to his feet and gingerly stepped over the prostrate man, quietly making his way out of the encampment.

  Jared was stiff, sore, and felt like he had a hangover even though he had not partaken in the vodka binge the night before, which in hindsight had never been offered to him. Before he turned and started up the muddy dirt trail, he took one quick glance back at the comatose bum wrapped in filth, lying under a bridge, the world just starting to come apart at the seams above him. Jared still wasn’t convinced the military or cops wouldn’t come rolling into town at any second, so the moment only lingered briefly before he turned, clambering up to the street.

  Jared didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it was early. He saw no one in the streets and felt a wave of relief wash over him. Had he seen the men from the night before, he would have gone running back to Bob. Once Jared was on the ECR, things started feeling normal and he relaxed, feeling a bit of the stress leave his tense shoulder muscles. He had been pushed to his limit the night before, but he felt better now. The sun was coming up, and the stiffness in his limbs was dissipating a little with each step.

  Jared stopped at a house and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he drank from a garden hose in the front yard until his thirst was quenched, then filled his water bottles before resuming his journey home. Every now and again, he would see curious faces peering at him from behind curtains, but no one was out on the street at that time of the morning. Jared finally reached the central area of Redwood City and felt even better. This area was safe, and the ECR was lined with businesses, none of which were open.

  Jared had been walking for about forty minutes when he saw an overturned and burned-out hulk of a police car. The squad car was in the middle of all the other abandoned traffic. Not a single car had been molested except the police car. The vehicle had been flipped onto its side and set afire. The vehicle smoldered as Jared approached, cautiously looking through the shattered windows, holding his breath, hoping he would not see the burned remains of an officer. There was no officer and there were no guns Jared noticed. The racks where a shotgun and AR-15 assault rifle were kept were badly damaged, the locking mechanisms broken and hanging open.

  Jared moved on through the cool morning air, his senses keyed up like never before. The slightest noise had him jerking his head around, readying himself for flight. A dog crashed out of a side yard and bounded down the sidewalk a short distance before stopping and sniffing something in front of a business. The dog became enthralled with what it found, so Jared crossed the street in order to maintain a comfortable distance from the mangy animal.

  As Jared drew abreast the animal, he realized, to his utter horror, the dog was gnawing on a human body. Jared froze in place and just stared at the body of a middle-aged woman only partly clothed and most assuredly dead by the amount of gore visible. Jared’s mind was racing; it was racing to the point of breakdown if he didn’t get it under control. A dead woman and no one had come out and taken care of the body. Worse yet, no one had probably reported it, so there she lay, half naked and being eaten by a dog. Jared was about to cross the street and drive the dog away when it occurred to him that he might end up the same way if he made any noise, so he took one last glance at the ill-fated woman and moved north, plodding up ECR into San Carlos.

  A mile into San Carlos, Jared heard a large crowd yelling and seemingly upset, but not in a dangerous way. He turned into the downtown area, walking carefully towards the noise of the crowd till he came to what was obviously the city hall.

  About a hundred fifty people were standing outside the front of the building, yelling at three very tired-looking people. One could have been the mayor, Jared didn’t know. He was older, maybe in his sixties, wearing slacks and a button-up shirt, which was missing the tie. The other two were cops, the first cops he had seen in almost three days. The older of the two cops was wearing slacks and some sort of police jacket with the word “Sheriff” on the back along with sheriff patches on the sleeves. The last cop was maybe forty years old and was in full uniform, armed and looking a little more than haggard.

  The crowd was angry and demanding answers the poor beleaguered three didn’t seem to have.

  “Why aren’t there cops out there watching for looters and thieves?” a man from the crowd roared.

  The mayor looking guy raised his hand and then gestured to the older of the two cops. “Mark, can you answer the man’s question?”

  The older of the two cops looked like he would rather have been anywhere else but there at that particular moment, but he stepped forward and addressed the man. “There are no cops, people. They went home to their families. The last of ’em left this morning, and the fact that they stayed for nearly three days should say a little something about their dedication, so how about giving us a break and going home.”

  The man in the crowd was incensed. “Give you a break? Give you a break? Give us a break. When are we getting power and some basic services around here? You guys are the ones in charge of all that.”

  Mark shook his head. “There is no power; there are no services. Go home and start thinking about what it is you’re going to do for your family to get through this.”

  The mayor raised his voice above the din of the crowd. “People, we have nothing for you. We are in the same situation you all are in. Mark here lives in the East Bay and hasn’t seen nor heard from his family, so we’re all in this together.”

  Jared hung at the rear of the crowd, listening and watching the cops as the mob complained, then threatened, and finally turned, melting into the neighborhood. Jared moved forward as the three city officials began to walk towards the building.

  “Excuse me,” Jared called out.

  Mark turned angrily on Jared. It was evident that whatever Jared was about to say had better not be a dumb question or a complaint. Jared stopped a short distance from the three.

  “Jesus, what now?” Mark snarled.

  “What happened? I was at work and everything just stopped, so I’m walking home, and I saw a dead lady down the ECR about a mile. A dog was eating her.” Jared hoped that last part would buy him at least an answer.

  All three men drew in deep breaths, and then their shoulders slumped in unison.

  Mark spoke first. “Everything is gone, as far as we know. State, federal and local assets are down, and no one is talking out there, ’cause nothing electronic is working.”

  The mayor joined in, “Try to get to a safe place and wait till the government can sort this mess out.”

  The three men stood for a long moment just staring at each other.

  “So that’s all you have right now?”

  Mark nodded. “Yep, that’s all we have. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a long walk home.” The three men turned again and headed towards the city hall.

  “Ride a bike home, Officer,” Jared called out from behind the men.

  Mark waved a hand in thanks, without turning around.

  The door closed and the men disappeared into the building. Jared was about to turn and start walking again when th
e door opened and Mark poked his head out. “Come here, man, got something for you.”

  Jared cocked his head and then slowly walked to the open door. Mark showed Jared into the building and down several flights of stairs to a basement area, where there were literally a hundred bicycles chained up inside a giant chain-link cage.

  Mark nodded to the cage full of bikes. “Most of ’em are real pieces of shit, but I got a pretty good one for my ride home and, I figured, what the hell, I can take your name and address and lend you a bike. When this blows over, you either bring it back or I come get it; either way works.”

  Jared smiled and dug out his wallet, ready to produce his license.

  Mark laughed out loud and clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I’m messing with you, man. Nothing’s getting back to normal anytime soon, and I’ve been trying to dump this pile of junk for months.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jared pedaled along the sidewalk, making good time, feeling the breeze rush through his hair. He passed more than a couple of shops that had been broken into, and even saw a few looters carrying items from the stores.

  One such encounter found Jared face-to-face with a father and his family. There were four of them: the father, mother, and two children. The children were a boy and girl Jared figured to be about eight and ten years old. The family was just coming out of a small convenience store, their arms loaded with food, when Jared encountered them.

  The father looked up, shame clouding his face. He lowered his head, beckoning his family as he scurried down the walkway, disappearing to the rear of the store. Jared rode on, thinking about the family and the look he’d seen on the father’s face. Was the man ashamed of the looting, or not being able to provide for his family without stealing?

  The looters along with everyone Jared passed seemed content to avoid each other at this point. If Jared saw a group of male looters, he would cross the street and pass them on the opposite sidewalk, keeping a safe distance between himself and any foolishness like he’d seen in Redwood City. Things that just a couple of days before hadn’t held much value in the world were now worth killing for. Jared knew how the value of a bike had changed for him, so he was careful to keep his distance from anyone other than women, children and families.