A World Slowed

by Rick Tippins

  The following day a C-130 Hercules landed at the airfield and off-loaded several up-armored Humvees. The whole thing was very hush-hush, but rumors spread that the unit flown in was what the Army called the Unit, or Delta Force. They went out into the city and were gone for approximately six hours before returning with close to twenty civilians. This little Special Forces group took over an entire hangar, pulling their C-130 inside along with their vehicles. They handled their own security and stayed the night before leaving the base the following morning on another ground mission.

  The most viable rumor was they were sent from the government to gather people who were important to the survival of the nation. These were not mayors or governors; they were people in their twenties and thirties who built things the government would need to make it through the dark days ahead.

  At the end of that day, the Special Forces operators returned, boarded the waiting C-130, and took off, disappearing along with the people they had come for. After the Special Forces boys rolled in and then left, the base commander appeared deflated and apparently was more than a little loose in keeping secrets from his staff. Brad and the rest of the base soon learned the government was paralyzed and had only the assets hardened against an EMP attack, which wasn’t enough, as evidenced by the lack of governmental support.

  After that, Brad volunteered to oversee the guard detail. After darkness fell, he walked to the fence, cut a hole in it, and walked off base, vowing to never be part of the killing of any American who was seeking food from their government, which had, over the years, created this culture of dependence. These times were fast becoming anything but normal, and people were becoming more and more desperate with each passing day.

  After relaying the tale, Brad wished the two men good luck and they parted ways. Adam said he had the idea to get away from suburbia and get into the industrial areas to see if they could find a way to feed themselves there. They’d found a few granola bars and things of that nature in some of the shops and in the vehicles abandoned on the streets, but hadn’t been as successful as they needed to be, when they’d happened on this place.

  Adam explained that as soon as they broke the front door, they knew someone either lived here or had recently been here by the smell. It smelled lived in—food, coffee, body odor—it all smelled different than the other shops had.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bart sat back as Adam concluded his story, stretching his arms over his head then cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

  “Watch him,” Bart said as he got to his feet, leaving the room.

  “That guy your dad or something?” Adam asked.

  Jared chuckled. “Nope.”

  “You guys gonna kill me? You know, I don’t care if you do, just make it fast.”

  Jared looked at the man and thought about how much he’d been through and all he’d lost, and was saddened that it amounted to enough that his life held so little value.

  “I ain’t killing anyone,” Jared said flatly. “Too many people killing too many people lately,” he finished.

  Adam took a deep breath and looked down at his bloody arm. The bullets had passed through the meaty portion and never struck bone. Jared would never know if Bart did this on purpose or not, and he would surely never ask the man.

  He nodded to the wound. “Hurt?”

  “Yeah, it hurts a lot,” Adam responded, the pain evident in his expression.

  Jared didn’t know what to say—or do, for that matter—and wished he hadn’t asked the question.

  Bart came back in the room with three cups of coffee and a bottle of painkillers Jared had scavenged for him days earlier. He set everything on the floor and turned to Adam. “I’m going to cut you loose. You do anything remotely stupid and I will kill you. You stay cool, and we can have a cup of coffee, and you can take some painkillers for that arm.”

  Adam nodded and Bart cut him from the chair, offering two white pills and one of the cups of steaming hot coffee. Adam didn’t take the cup immediately, stretching his body and wincing at the pain from the gunshot wounds.

  “Go grab the first aid bag,” Bart said. Jared retrieved the bag and Bart set about cleaning the wounds and bandaging the arm. He made a sling securing Adam’s arm to his chest in order to stop the limb from swinging and causing the man surplus pain.

  “I really wish you all had waited till daylight and just knocked. Would have gone better for all parties involved.”

  Adam just nodded, staring down at the floor. “We didn’t come in here looking for a fight. I called for Erik and he came shooting for two reasons, so I didn’t die alone, and so he didn’t have to be alone.” He looked up, squaring his shoulders, and looked Bart straight in the eyes. “Our families died alone in the house we called home, maybe wondering why we weren’t there to stop it, but they died alone.” He drew a deep breath. “We talked a lot about that, and I guess neither of us wanted to die the same way. Back before all this, people wanted alone time, not so much anymore, I think.”

  He exhaled and dropped his head. It was obvious the arm was causing him a great deal of discomfort, and Jared found himself feeling sorry for the man.

  After a long silence, Bart spoke up. “You did come in here and cause us to kill a man. You scared the living hell out of Essie and robbed us of a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, you gotta go. I’ll give you that pistol your friend had and three days’ food, hell, I’ll even toss in a couple of bottles of water, but you gotta go.”

  Adam nodded, he looked like a broken shell of a human being and, again, Jared was nearly overcome with pity for the man who’d lost his family and now a close friend.

  Bart stood. “You can sleep here for the night. I’m up and won’t be able to get back to sleep anyway.”

  “Thank you,” Adam murmured as Bart gave a wry smile.

  “It’s a goddamn weird world we live in now. A few minutes ago, we were exchanging gunfire, trying to kill each other, and now we’re drinking coffee and you’re about to sleep in my fucking bed.”

  Adam pursed his lips.

  “Fucking weird,” Bart reiterated.

  Jared helped the one-armed man situate the sleeping bag, then closed the door and left him to sleep. Jared walked down to the workshop, where he could see the flickering light of a candle. He knew what he would see and he wasn’t disappointed. Bart sat in a chair, mug of coffee in hand, staring at a wall in deep thought.

  Jared pulled up a chair, also sitting in silence, gripping his own cup of coffee, but not drinking. He planned on trying to salvage a little sleep out of what was left of the night, and coffee would ensure he would stare at the ceiling, listening to Essie’s soft breathing till the sun rose.

  Bart’s voice broke the silence. “Remember what happened here tonight, my friend, remember it and never forget it. Pass it on to everyone you come across, because it’s what will bring this great nation back to her feet.”

  “Which part?”

  Bart shot him an annoyed look. “You’re a smart guy, Jared, but sometimes, I worry about you. Pay attention to life, not things, that was the problem with your generation and the world in general.” Bart blew gently on the coffee before sipping the hot stimulant. “You lived in the material sense of things, computers, hardware, software, and whatever else you did. You let valuable lessons pass you by, missing golden opportunities to get better at being human and make this shithole world better.”

  Jared looked at this old man who, at times, was the biggest asshole he’d ever met and, other times, seemed like the most dangerous and uncaring man he’d ever known. Now, Jared was pretty sure the ole son of a bitch was talking about compassion and forgiveness. He almost laughed out loud, but thought Bart might knife him if he made light of the situation.

  “You’re talking about forgiving people and having compassion?”

  “I’m fucking talking about being a better person, helping people get on their feet and make it in this place. Everyone seems to have a story, each one a little w
orse than the last,” Bart snarled.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. The world is what we make it. If it’s full of shitheads, it will not be a good place to be. I get it, Bart.”

  “You can’t just get it, kid, you got to live it, hell we all have to live it. Everyone out there has to be better to each other” Bart said.

  “Then why are you…I mean we kicking him out tomorrow,” Jared ventured almost timidly.

  “’Cause justice shall be served. He made a huge mistake and got a man killed because of it.”

  “Well, I think if you help someone who is in a situation that could be the end of them, like him out there with that arm the way it is, they owe you and will be loyal to you on a level that’s different from someone you’ve never done anything for,” Jared argued.

  “Ah, for crying out loud, I said pay attention to life, not overthink it.” Bart snorted, taking a draw off the now cooler coffee.

  Jared felt he gained the upper hand in this debate and pushed on. “We put him out on the street and he will die. We both know that.” Jared shifted in his chair and continued, “So we don’t actually kill him, we just cause him to be killed, like he caused his buddy to get killed.”

  Bart grimaced, pushed his chest out, and rolled his shoulders back. He wasn’t happy with this discussion, and Jared wanted to be careful not to go too far, jeopardizing his own situation here at the gun store.

  Bart relaxed his shoulders, releasing his breath through his nostrils. “Let me tell you something, Jared, I don’t run a postapocalyptic foster home for fucked-up guys who weren’t ready for this little hiccup. The fact that you are here is a mystery even to me. The only reason I can think of is our deal, and in hindsight, I probably could have done all that shopping if I’d got out there within the first couple of days.”

  “Then you bring home Essie, and I can’t very well toss you two out on the street with her having gone through what she went through. Now you’re telling me I should take in a third hungry and thirsty mouth, and not just a third, but a third who not more than an hour ago might have killed all three of us if we hadn’t got to him and his friend first.” Bart finished.

  Jared sat silently, thinking about the whole thing and coming to the realization that this situation was not that much different than some messed up things he read about in his past life.

  As if reading his mind, Bart continued. “Back when we had a judicial system, there were a ton of crimes that were pretty straightforward in the eyes of the law.” He sipped the steaming beverage before continuing, “Murder wasn’t one of them. Murder or homicide was a tricky crime, and we as humans realized that and, in doing so, our penal code, at least the California Penal Code, reflected our understanding that the act of taking another human life is quite possibly the most complicated crime or act we dealt with.”

  Bart sipped the coffee then swept his hand across his front. “Take the premeditated murder of a police officer, for example, which in turn carries a possible death sentence and was viewed by society as an exceptionally horrific crime, while the guy who walks in and kills his wife’s lover after seeing the two engaged in a little one-on-one naked wrestling match is viewed nearly as an acceptable act, punishable by a couple of months in a county jail and three years’ probation.”

  Bart set the cup of coffee down and laughed. “Hell, the conditions of probation were usually more lax than probation on someone with a DUI.” He shook his head and stretched. “My point is, what homeboy back there did was egregious, but only in the sense of the act and not in a societal perception type way, if that makes any sense at all.”

  The following morning, Jared woke Essie, fed her breakfast, and was combing her hair when Adam staggered through the door, looking pale, face slicked with sweat, and generally looking like hammered dog shit. Bart got to his feet, pulling a chair out and motioning the man to sit. Adam sank into the chair without a word. Bart grabbed the first aid bag and retrieved a pair of shears, which he used to cut away the blood-soaked bandages. Adam groaned low and guttural as his head fell back and his eyes rolled up in his head.

  “I really wish you hadn’t shot me,” Adam croaked in a hoarse voice.

  To Jared’s surprise, Bart didn’t say a word as he worked on the man’s arm. The flesh around the entrance and exit wounds was bright red and already infected.

  “Goddammit,” Bart murmured as he poured hydrogen peroxide into the wounds.

  Adam winced, but did not cry out. Essie watched intently as Bart worked on the man’s arm. Jared was also watching, jaw clinched, hands balled into tight fists. He had to make an effort to relax his body as the medical procedure unfolded across the table from him.

  After irrigating the wounds with hydrogen peroxide, Bart put on a pair of latex gloves and scrubbed Adam’s wounds. This elicited more moans and gasps of pain from the wounded man. Bart stopped periodically, letting the man catch his breath. When he was done scrubbing the wounds, he injected them with an antibacterial ointment. Once this was done, Bart set about re-dressing the cleaned wounds and securing Adam’s arm to his chest.

  When he was finished, Bart smiled at Adam. “Guess we should have given you something for the pain before we went tearing into those holes in your arm.”

  Adam swallowed, unable to do much else.

  Turning to Jared, Bart shook his head regretfully. “I need you to go back out and get more bandages. This is going to need to be changed a couple of times a day and we just don’t have that many medical supplies.”

  Essie moved against Jared, nestling herself into a little nook, looking at Bart. “Why don’t you go out and get it? He always has to go.”

  Both men looked surprised, their mouths hanging open, staring down at the usually quiet and withdrawn little girl.

  “I’ll be careful,” Jared said as he squeezed her to him.

  They all sat in silence for a solid five minutes before Bart got to his feet, breaking the silence. “Time to go, my friend.”

  Jared looked up, immediately realizing Bart was referring to the wounded man.

  Adam nodded his head with a pained look as Bart reached under the table to produce a small day-style pack.

  “There’s water, bandages and some food like I promised,” Bart said.

  Adam staggered to his feet, taking the pack, and Bart showed him the way to the front of the store. Jared shifted Essie to the chair next to him, also getting to his feet, following the two men, who were slowly making their way down the hallway like condemned men. The three men ducked through the broken front door, Bart and Jared stopping short as Adam continued. He walked ten yards before he stopped and turned back to face the two men who were essentially sending him to his death.

  “I really am sorry about what happened and, if I could turn back the hand of time, I would. We never meant to hurt anyone, and I just—fuck, I just guess I don’t know what else to say other than I am so sorry.”

  Bart nodded slightly, but remained grim faced until Adam turned and headed up the street.

  Adam had only gone another five yards when Bart called out to him, “Hold up, friend.”

  Bart disappeared into the shop as Adam stopped and looked questioningly at Jared, who shrugged, just as perplexed as Adam was.

  A moment later Bart returned, carrying a small box of .38-caliber ammunition. He strode out to where Adam had stopped, handing the box to the half-crippled man. “There’s fifty rounds there, not much, but more than you had.”

  Adam just stared at the gift.

  “Far as I’m concerned, if we meet again, it’s a fresh start, no hard feelings. Good luck to you. Hope you make it.”

  For a split second, Jared thought Adam was going to hug the old bastard. For that brief moment in time, Jared stopped breathing in anticipation of a hug that never came. Jared was both disappointed and relieved and would always wonder if it had happened, how Bart would have reacted. He didn’t think it would have been a positive reaction. In the end, Adam nodded his head, eyes glassy with emotion as he turned
slowly, walking up the street before rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Jared felt a flood of emotions course through him as the man rounded the corner. Guilt, sadness and an overwhelming sense of despair were just a few of them.

  Bart’s voice jolted him out of the dark recess of his pity party. “That was quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” With that, Bart turned and walked back into the shop, leaving Jared standing on the sidewalk in a world that had become so quiet his ears would ring if he stopped and just listened.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jared pedaled the bike through the streets of San Jose, heading to a CVS Bart had mapped out for him. As he rounded a corner, Jared saw what looked like a woman ahead of him, pulling a child’s wagon with a body splayed atop the carriage. The feet and hands dragged along the concrete while the woman struggled to pull the grisly mess along the sidewalk. Three weeks ago, the woman had probably walked her purebred poodle along this very sidewalk.

  Jared slowed, looking for any sign of foul play, but didn’t get the sense there was anything sinister about this scene, so he continued towards the woman. She was a woman probably in her early forties, with hair that seemed to have gone unwashed since this whole thing started. Her clothes were filthy, hanging on a frame that had obviously lost more than a few pounds since the event.

  Everything about the woman was dirty, grimy, or otherwise distasteful as she trudged along with a grim look painted across her gaunt face. The body in the wagon was a man in his forties, dirty, thin and dead. His eyes were open, as was his mouth, and Jared could see where fluids were leaking from those orifices, both onto the ground and pooling in the wagon around his rotting body.