A World Slowed

by Rick Tippins

  Jared was an only child and had never had children, so this was all new to him in the sense that he had never had siblings or been around children as an adult. He knew one thing, he wanted out of this house and out of this godforsaken neighborhood. He carried the girl out the front door and looked up and down the street before walking back towards his bike.

  He caught a couple of people staring through windows as he passed, and when he asked if they knew the little girl, they all quickly disappeared. People had more than enough to worry about with their own families and the lack of food, not to mention the violent nature of the streets in recent days. A man could leave his family to go forage for food and either get killed, or return to his home only to find his family dead or his wife gone. Jared didn’t blame these people for ignoring him, but also realized it was an indication of how bad things were getting in the world. All these people knew was there had recently been a gunfight nearby and, now, a complete stranger was walking off with a little girl from their neighborhood, and no one was doing a damn thing to stop it.

  As Jared walked, he thought back to his high school history teacher Mr. Lewis. The man was a veteran of some war and served in one of the armed forces; Jared couldn’t remember which one. He did remember an entire day Mr. Lewis had spent talking about a letter written by Edmund Burke to Thomas Mercer in 1770. The letter became famous for a phrase Burke used: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

  Jared couldn’t recall the whole class discussion, but it had made enough of an impression on him that he remembered the general message of Burke’s letter. The man was trying to impress on Mercer the importance of banding together in order to fight evil. If evil guys like the ones he had killed could hold an entire neighborhood hostage, why couldn’t the residents in that neighborhood get together and drive the assholes out of their neighborhood?

  Jared thought about Bart, and how his own life had become remarkably better since joining forces with the old guy. Learn from the past, thought Jared; 1770 was not that different from now in that there were not too many support systems in place, and a man or woman had to take care of themselves and their family on their own.

  Jared rode the bike full of supplies, the tiny girl perched atop all the canned food, winding his way through the streets. Jared decided he wanted to get back to Bart’s place and would risk not moving slowly in order to get there. He had killed five guys not an hour ago and figured if anyone tried to stop him, he’d kill them as well.

  The girl had not spoken a word and had not resisted when Jared took her from the house. She had made a decision in her tiny little mind, and it was to trust this stranger. He had no doubt she’d seen her father murdered; she’d seen him gunned down in the very room she watched cartoons in growing up. She had most likely seen her mother dragged from their home, and no doubt heard her cries of protest next door as the savages had their way with her. Jared shook the thoughts from his head and pedaled harder, feeling only dark warmth in his heart for what he’d done to those motherfucking animals.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jared was sweating, his shirt soaked through in the armpits, when he knocked at the back door of Bart’s gun store. Bart answered the door in his usual suspicious way, scanned the area, then stood clear as Jared forced his way in, pushing the bike, trailer, supplies and, lastly, the girl. Jared didn’t say a word as he leaned the bike against a wall, scooped the little girl off the trailer, and carried her to the workshop, where he set her on a chair and busied himself getting her some water.

  Bart stopped at the door, watching as Jared handed the little creature a plastic cup of water. The girl took the cup, tilted it to her lips, and didn’t lower it until the cup was empty. Jared gave her another, and she did the same, handing it back expectantly. After she finished her third cup, Jared prepared a freeze-dried egg scramble and spooned some into a bowl, dropped a fork on the food, and slid it across the table to the girl.

  She ate two bowls of the egg scramble before sitting back, her hunger temporarily at bay. Next Jared picked the girl up and carried her to the doorway where Bart was standing.

  “Cover me,” he said as he moved past the older man.

  Bart grabbed a rifle from inside the workshop and followed Jared to the back door. Jared opened it and did a quick check of the lot before striding directly to the portable bathroom. He opened the door and set her inside, closing the door. The girl immediately opened the door and stood there, looking a little frightened.

  “You want me to hold the door open while you go?” Jared asked.

  She nodded and he held the door ajar, turning his head to look away, giving her some privacy. Bart mumbled something before taking a knee, facing away from the portable unit, and training the rifle out across the parking lot.

  When the little girl was finished with her business, she stepped from the unit and looked up expectantly. Jared picked her up and headed back inside the building. He heard her use the portable unit and was relieved that she was fully sufficient in regard to toilet training. As he held her, Jared realized she smelled pretty ripe, and made a mental note to wash her the following day. He walked directly into his bedroom and placed the tiny form on his bed, drawing the covers over her.

  “You can sleep here tonight. It’s warm and safe,” he said as he pulled the sleeping bag snug around her petite form. After tucking her into the bed, Jared stood and walked towards the door.

  “Don’t leave,” came a barely audible voice.

  Jared spun around, rushing to her side. “I’m not leaving you. I was going to go eat and then I’ll come back.”

  She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t go,” she pleaded again.

  Jared sank to the floor next to the bed, leaning his head against the side of the mattress so she could see him. He watched as she relaxed a bit, wriggling deeper into the sleeping bag and, within five minutes, her breathing became rhythmic, letting Jared know she was asleep. Jared got to his feet, standing over her, thinking the last few weeks had probably been hard on the girl, but the last forty-eight hours had nearly killed her. She was half starved, dehydrated and probably hadn’t slept in a couple of days. He looked at her closely, really for the first time, noticing her light brown hair, almond-shaped eyes and olive-colored skin. She was an angelic little girl under all that filth and grime.

  Bart was patiently waiting in the workshop when Jared finally made his way through the door and fell into a chair in front of what remained of the egg scramble. Bart poured a healthy cup of whiskey for both men, sliding one across to Jared.

  “What in the Sam hell are you gonna do with that kid?”

  Jared chewed his food, swallowed, grabbed the whiskey, and took a long draw. After the whiskey, he set the cup down and leaned back. “Ah, I don’t know, Bart. A better question would be what are we gonna do with her?”

  “Now wait a goddamn minute,” Bart blurted. “There is no we in this thing, whatever it is you’ve gone and done.” Bart grabbed his cup and drained it, obviously upset. “Can’t go grabbing kids and bringing ’em back here like this place is some sort of orphanage. Goddamn, boy, we ain’t got enough for ourselves let alone the rest of the city.”

  Jared studied Bart for a long moment, then took another drink before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “Her father was murdered in front of her; her mother was dragged out of their house, taken next door and brutally raped and also murdered. I wasn’t there, but I can almost guarantee she heard the whole affair with her mother.”

  Bart sat stone-faced, waiting for Jared to finish.

  “I saw the family earlier, so I grabbed some extra food to leave on the back doorstep, when I saw the door was kicked in.” Jared shook his head, remembering the scene. “I go inside and find her father shot to death in his own fucking living room. She’s hiding ten feet away in a kitchen cupboard.”

  “So, you just snatched her up and brought her back here?” Bart asked.

  Jare
d leaned back in his chair, eyes directed towards the ceiling for a moment before slowly replying, “No, not exactly.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, Jared relayed the day’s events to Bart, who listened, never once interrupting. He sat stone-faced, listening to this computer geek tell him how he had gone out and, as an afterthought, decided to do a good deed, which resulted in five gang members being killed. Bart listened as Jared explained his plan and how he waited under the house, came up like a gopher, and laid waste to the vermin inside.

  As Jared spoke, Bart noticed the blood on his pants and wondered what the neck wound looked like under all those bandages. As Jared explained how he used the feminine pads to stop the bleeding, Bart smiled inwardly. The kid was thinking on his feet, which was a very good thing if he wanted to survive in this new and very dangerous world. When Jared finished, he let out a long breath and finished his drink.

  “Let’s take a look at your wounds, clean ’em up so you don’t get some godforsaken infection that ends up killing you.” Bart got up and retrieved his first aid kit, dropping it on the table next to Jared. Bart laid out some bandages and antibacterial meds before removing the belt and ultimately peeling the maxi pads from Jared’s bloodied neck.

  “Ahhh, they got you good, kid. No real damage, but they tore a good chunk out of your fucking neck.”

  Jared winced as Bart worked on the wounds. In ten minutes, Bart had the wound on his neck cleaned and rebandaged with gauze and real medical tape.

  “Drop your drawers, kiddo,” Bart commanded.

  Jared gingerly got to his feet and removed his bloody pants, exposing the nice groove in his left hip, where the bullet had passed through the top layers of flesh and exited out the back of his trousers. This allowed Bart to clean and bandage the wound like a professional ER nurse. Considering his position, Jared bit his tongue and held back making any nurse jokes.

  When Bart finished, he tossed a bottle of painkillers to Jared. “Take two tonight; it’ll help you sleep. You can take more tomorrow if it’s that bad. Just be careful, don’t take ’em if you don’t need ’em.”

  Jared opened the bottle and poured two of the little white pills into his hand.

  “Last thing we need around here is a strung-out computer geek with a gun,” Bart said, holding his hand out for the bottle.

  Jared tossed the bottle back and popped the pills in his mouth. He washed them down with a swig from a bottle of water and stood. “You got another sleeping bag I can use?”

  Bart nodded, getting to his feet before ambling off to retrieve Jared a sleeping bag. After getting the backup sleeping bag from Bart, Jared entered his bedroom. He could hear the girl’s breathing the same as when he had left. In fact, she hadn’t moved from the position he left her in. He quietly spread his sleeping bag on the floor next to the bed and climbed in. Jared could feel the day’s events heavy on his soul as he drifted away into a very deep slumber.

  Jared awoke to the sounds of Bart moving around inside the workshop. He rolled over and almost jumped out of the sleeping bag. The girl was sitting upright with her bag drawn about her shoulders, peering down at him. Her face was blank, not in a bad way, just staring, waiting for him to wake.

  He smiled and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then grimaced as the pain in his neck and hip struck like two simultaneous baseball bats dropping him back on the sleeping bag. The pain was so sudden and strong he just lay there a moment, mouth agape, quietly working through what was by far the most pain he’d ever felt. Slowly he started breathing again, grasping for his composure, trying to will the pain away. It did not work, but he was able to figure out some less painful positions in which he could sit, lay and finally stand.

  Once he gained his feet, he reached out, taking the girl by the hand and leading her into the hallway, moving in the direction of the workshop.

  Bart rose early that day, making sure breakfast and coffee were waiting when Jared led the hapless little damsel into the workshop. Bart glanced over, but stayed mute as Jared sat at the table, the girl crawling into his lap and resting her head against his chest. Bart looked over with a raised eyebrow. Jared shrugged, thinking he was along for the ride at this point.

  Bart brought over two bowls heaped with sausage, eggs and whole wheat toast, the real deal, and it smelled wonderful. The girl ate slower this morning than she had the night before and drank much less. Jared and Bart ate their breakfast while watching the small child pick through her food, eating most of it before curling up back against Jared’s chest.

  Without warning, the little girl turned her head, looking up at Jared. “Can we go find my mom?” she quietly asked.

  Bart and Jared glanced at each other before Jared responded, “Your mom’s gone, and so is your dad.”

  The little girl sat up and squared her shoulders at Jared. “I know my daddy’s gone, I saw it happen, but my mom was at the neighbor’s house. I could hear her.”

  Both men sat speechless.

  “She fought with those men. I think she was mad ’cause of what they did to my daddy.”

  All three sat in silence for a moment; then the girl returned to her nook in Jared’s chest. “So, can we go get her?” the girl repeated.

  “She’s gone, those men hurt her real bad, and now she’s gone,” Jared said, the emotions welling up in him like an ocean swell.

  Again no one in the room spoke until the little girl broke the silence. “Is that why you went over there and killed them all?”

  This kid is something else, thought Bart. She kept amazing him with the stuff coming out of her mouth.

  “I know what you did over there. You did the same thing they did to my daddy, and you said a lot of bad words when you were doing it.”

  Bart stifled a laugh and had to look away as Jared stared dumbfounded at this little creature in his lap. He now remembered he had indeed yelled some fairly horrible things at the men in the house when he burst out of the closet. It was like he lost control of his mouth in the throes of battle, and now he was being reminded of it by this little girl curled up in his lap.

  Needing a change of subject and needing it quick, Jared asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Essie,” replied the girl without raising her head from his chest. “I don’t want to go back to my house, then,” Essie said as Jared dipped his chin, nodding in hurried little gestures.

  “Fair enough.” Fair enough didn’t even come close to how he felt about going anywhere near that neighborhood. He thought about his lack of remorse and how that bothered him more than the actual killings. Somehow Jared was thankful the little girl had entered his life. She took his mind off the fact he had slaughtered five human beings. Essie not only took his mind off it, but she was part of the validation process. Had he not found her hiding in that cupboard, he would never have had the drive to go next door and do what he’d done. He cupped her head in his hand and slowly rocked back and forth.

  “Essie, I like that name. It’s wholesome and has a nice ring to it,” he said, still rocking the tiny form curled up in his lap. "How old are you Essie”? Jared prodded.

  “Seven.” She responded.

  After breakfast, Jared occupied himself with setting up an outdoor shower Bart had. It was a solar contraption and would produce warm water as long as it got direct sunlight. When Jared finished with the setup, Bart asked if he planned on putting her back in those clothes she was wearing. Bart had a way of letting Jared go down a road to nowhere and then calling him on it.

  Jared held his arms in the air. “So, Master Jedi, where would one find clothes for a little girl?”

  Essie sat in a chair, watching the men’s exchange.

  “How the hell should I know where to get clothes for a child?” Bart snapped.

  Jared smirked. The old man usually had the answer, and here he was answerless. Jared enjoyed this briefly.

  “I get clothes from Target,” Essie murmured.

  The men looked at Essie and nodded, like they knew that. Bart win
ked at Jared. “Looks like you’re going to Target.”

  Back inside the workshop, Jared held a tape measure up, attempting to measure the length of Essie’s arms and legs.

  She made a face and backed away, saying, “The size is on the tag. I’m a size 7 pants and shirt.”

  Bart was loving every minute of this as he prepared a cup of coffee, glancing sideways at Jared while slowly shaking his head.

  “Okay,” Jared said, facing Essie, “I’m going out to get you some clothes, and Bart here is going to watch you. Is that okay with you?”

  Essie glanced at Bart then nodded.

  As Bart let Jared and the bike out the back door, he whispered in Jared’s ear, “Get a size too big. Kids grow.”

  Jared mounted the bike, wincing at the pain in his hip as he pedaled out of the parking lot and onto the street. He hadn’t taken any of Bart’s pain meds until he knew he was going back out, and then he took two more of the little white pills. Bart changed the bandages again, giving Jared a chance to see both wounds in a mirror. When he saw the neck wound, it actually scared him.

  It appeared much worse than the hip wound, but caused him significantly less pain than the jagged tear in his hip. He navigated from memory this time, no trailer, just a small day pack, racing through the deserted streets. Jared rode directly into the Target store, steering his way to the children’s section. He stayed straddled on the bike and had the pack pulled around to his chest as he easily located the size 8s, grabbing several pairs of pants and several shirts, both long and short sleeve.

  Jared was about to leave the store when the thought hit him: socks and underwear. Essie didn’t wear diapers, so she probably wore underwear.

  After he stuffed the pack with all the clothes, Jared pedaled out of the Target store and, instead of riding back to the gun store, he turned the bike deeper into the city, riding like a madman. His hip was throbbing and his neck had started to hurt more and more as he sped along a sidewalk and into a large parking lot. The REI store stood in front of him, dark and looted.