A World Slowed

by Rick Tippins

  Jared just stared back till the ornery old cuss turned and entered the tent. Jared had learned whether he responded or not, Bart was going to rant about certain things. Jared also had little doubt in his mind that if Bart found him asleep on watch, Jared would have lived his last day on this earth.

  After Bart and Essie were fast asleep, Jared sat in quiet contemplation of the new world, listening to the sounds of the surrounding neighborhood. Once in a while he would hear voices, but they never came near the encampment. In the distance, Jared heard gunshots on more than a few occasions and, when gravity began dragging his chin to his chest, he got to his feet, creeping along the tree line in order to keep himself awake and alert.

  He scanned the open and surprisingly well-lit greens for any signs of humanity. Thankfully he found none under the nearly full moon. Bart had been right; the greens were like a moat, a highly visible moat that would afford an advancing party zero cover from sight or bullets. Jared was sure if someone tried to walk into their camp, he would have no problem seeing them long before they got anywhere near them.

  As Jared sat listening to the gunfire and occasional cry from what he could only think had to be a doomed human, he had to wonder at the schedule humans kept before and after the event. The gunfire and screaming ramped up at around ten o’clock and was going strong by midnight.

  No matter the event, humans didn’t really change that much. Yeah, sure, they adapted and, to the untrained eye, it could seem like everything was different, but Jared knew better. People had to eat and provide for their families no matter the state of the world. People had stabbed each other in the back in the workplace before the event, albeit not in the literal sense, but they had worked within the rules of the game at the time. Now that the rules had been significantly altered, people were quite literally stabbing each other in the back in order to survive and provide for their families.

  The event had served to exacerbate everything from the old world. Society of old tended to follow a socialist path in creating an equal playing field for all life’s players. After the event stripped the protective cloak of law and order, people were exposed for who they really were. No more hiding behind the threat of calling the cops over a matter that nowadays would be laughable.

  Nowadays if some snot-nosed millennial puke lambasted his or her barista for not making their favorite coffee drink to their liking, they’d likely be killed on the spot. Alas, the baristas were all gone, and Jared was pretty sure he and others like him were being more polite to each other these days. Jared was also fairly sure those who weren’t being polite had better be ready for whatever came their way.

  After he had taken a short tour around the camp, he sat back down, the chill of the night causing his legs to stiffen and his back to ache. He stared down at the watch on his wrist, which read five minutes to two. Jared slowly made his way to the tent, crawling to the entrance, where Bart was already up, fully dressed, wearing his body armor. The older man pulled himself from the tent, stood and stretched, letting out a low guttural moan.

  “Anything going on out there?” he asked.

  Jared shook his head, glancing out across the golf course. “Some gunshots, but nothing close.”

  Bart wrestled with his pack, pulling out a small stove, which he positioned between one of his bicycle’s saddlebags and some boxes, effectively blocking the small flame from the view of anyone who might be looking in their direction. Jared found himself suddenly very wide awake as he watched Bart make a single cup of coffee.

  Bart looked up and shook his head. “None for you, lad, you need to sleep. Can’t have you up for twenty-four hours and then hope you stay awake tomorrow night on watch.” Bart shook his head again and went back to setting up the tiny stove.

  Jared got to his feet, making his way through the darkness to the tent, where he found Essie curled up in her small sleeping bag, sleeping soundly. He climbed into Bart’s bag and could still feel the older man’s heat. This assisted him greatly in drifting off to sleep, the rhythmic sound of the small girl’s breathing helping the much-needed sleep come faster than had she not been there.

  Jared dreamed of the three men earlier in the day. He lay behind his rifle, Bart to his side murmuring a slow countdown. He remembered the downside: a third man would likely escape, and they would have to worry about retaliation as they passed through this neighborhood.

  Jared calmed his breathing as Bart murmured, “Two, one.” Jared held his breath and gently, ever so gently squeezed the rifle’s trigger towards the rear. He could see the man in the sights as the rifle bucked in his shoulder. He heard the dual pop of both his and Bart’s rifles as they barked in unison. He stared over the front sight and saw two men dropping to the ground while the third man dropped to a crouch in the half second or so before he would run and become a nearly impossible target. Before the two men had stopped moving, a third shot rang out and the third man dropped.

  Essie’s voice rang out. “I got him!”

  Jared sat bolt upright, sweat covering his face and neck.

  Essie was sitting wrapped in her bag from the waist down, hands held up in a clapping position. “I got him,” she said again, opening her hands, showing Jared a dead mosquito.

  Jared found his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to drag his soul from the dream world and deposit it back in the real world. He reached out, hugging Essie to his chest.

  “Yes, you did,” was all he could say as he sat in a tent on an abandoned golf course, holding a dead family’s small daughter like she was his own.

  Then as tragedy often does to men, Jared almost laughed out loud. He had never dreamed of killing another human being. Now not only had he taken a life, but had done it before ever dreaming of doing it. The sequence of events was absurd to him. A month ago, he would have been troubled by the dream he just had; now---it just seemed weird the actual killings had happened before the dream. Weren’t people supposed to dream of something, then do it? Jared knew if Bart could read his mind, he’d accuse the younger man of overthinking the whole thing.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could focus on the here and now, gave Essie a tight squeeze, and unraveled himself from the sleeping bag.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Outside, Bart had breakfast waiting as Essie and Jared crawled out of the tent. Only the second day and Jared did not look forward to another day of hard work moving through the countryside astride an overloaded bicycle. He suggested they use highway 152 to cross over to highway 5, but Bart had insisted that would be a great way to get killed, since everyone would be using that road.

  Bart’s theory was that once people got out into the countryside, they would quickly run out of things like food and water and would not hesitate to do whatever they had to in order to obtain life’s essential items. Bart had instead chosen Mt. Hamilton Road, which would be much harder on the group, but would be safer, in Bart’s estimation.

  “It’s deer season year-round, and we have ourselves an endless stack of tags, both doe and buck,” Bart said. He explained they didn’t have enough food to make it to the next state and would have to shoot meat when they came across it. The food they carried was like a reserve cache that they would eat until they found wild game.

  Once they were deep into the Californian countryside, they would try to make wild game their primary source of food while using their current food stash as side dishes from time to time just to spice up their diet. Bart also hoped to stumble across gardens they could forage from for the much-needed nutrients vegetables provided.

  “One more thing,” Bart said. “I took a little stroll and found the clubhouse and the pool and filled all my water bottles. You should do the same.”

  An hour later, the two men and the little lady stood at a three-way intersection on a country road across the street from the golf course they’d slept in. The street sign read “Mt. Hamilton Road.” Jared was anxious to get moving, Bart not so much.

  “This is where everything c
hanges. People will be less apt to take what’s not theirs, but they will all be armed out here.” Jared squinted, staring up the road as Bart continued, “Armed and very capable in the use of said arms. Remember, out here manners are everything. Be polite no matter what. If we end up killing someone, we call him “sir” right up to the point he draws his last breath.”

  Jared nodded as he glanced about at the surrounding houses, focusing on one house nestled on the corner with a small white wall around its front yard. The wall was only a couple of feet tall, and the only thing it would have served to deny access to the property was a toddler. Well, there’s something you won’t be seeing in the future, a wall that serves no fucking purpose whatsoever. Sure, a month ago the wall had served a purpose, it looked quaint, but now it looks pretty goddamn lame, he thought.

  He let out a long breath, mounted the bike, checked that Essie was hanging on, and pumped hard on the pedals, pushing the bike forward and across the street. Jared stole one last look at the little wall, shaking his head in disgust. Quaint is dead.

  The trio moved up the country road at a snail’s pace in complete silence, with Bart in the lead. Every few hundred yards, Bart would make one of his annoying stops and glass the area they were heading into. Jared knew these stops could and had saved lives, but they were really slowing them down.

  When the sun hung low on the horizon, Bart began looking for a suitable camping site. Jared was so exhausted from pedaling all day, he would have been happy dropping to the ground on the side of the road and drifting off to sleep, wrapped only in the clothes he was wearing. Bart wasn’t having any of that nonsense, and Jared knew better than to even suggest a campsite close to the road.

  Jared thought of all his excuses, like they were using a small stove that emitted no smoke, so why would they have to worry about being spotted, or the fact that they kept a lookout up twenty-four hours a day, or the fact that their footprint on the local terrain was less than that of a rat with the way Bart ran this little outfit. In the end he remained quiet, knowing Bart would make the right and safest decision for their group and, quite frankly, Jared wasn’t up for an argument with the most stubborn man he’d ever met.

  The road they were traveling on cut through the countryside, with a drop on one side and steep embankments on the other. After a bit of scanning on Bart’s part, he dismounted, grabbed the tent and sleeping bags, and tossed them to the ground.

  “Let’s drop these bikes on the downward side, hide ’em in some bushes.”

  Jared nodded and pushed his bike behind Bart’s to the edge of the road. The drop-off was not severe, and the two men easily secreted the equipment in the undergrowth a good twenty meters from the roadway. Once back on the road, Bart gestured to the opposite side and began making his way up to higher ground. Both men had their day packs on and had split the extra gear, with Jared carrying both sleeping bags while Bart carried the tent. Essie scrambled along between the two men, the three fighting their way up the soft and shifting embankment.

  Like most hills, this one seemed to go on forever. After what seemed like an hour, the tiny group crested what might be called the top. There was a very good view of the road below, and Jared could see bits of the road for miles in both directions as it snaked its way through the hilly countryside. For a moment the two men just stood panting, taking in the expansive view until Essie broke the silence.

  “What if someone takes your bikes?”

  Bart lifted the binoculars to his eyes and peered back in the direction they’d come. “I can see right where we left them. They’ll be fine.” He turned, glancing at Jared, eyebrows raised ever so slightly before stealing a glance at the little girl.

  Jared gently patted her windswept hair. “Don’t worry about those bikes. No one will find them way down in all those bushes.”

  Essie didn’t even look at Jared, but instead looked directly at Bart for assurance.

  He smiled and nodded his head. “He’s right, they’d have had to see us put them in there and, from where I’m standing, it don’t seem like there’s another living soul round these parts for a hundred miles.”

  With that, Bart turned and shuffled off, looking for a suitable campsite. Jared watched him go and was troubled by the labor in Bart’s gait, not to mention it seemed like the old guy was wiping his mouth again, and Jared remembered seeing blood on the man’s kerchief more than a few times in the last few days. Originally, Bart had intended to stay put in the city because he was getting up in years and hadn’t felt he would be able to survive a long trip on foot or bicycle. Somehow, Jared and Essie had changed all that, and now Bart was leading this little expedition across the Californian countryside.

  Maybe he knew he would die no matter where he was or what he did, and Jared thought maybe, just maybe, Bart didn’t want to die alone. Maybe dying on the road with other people was better than dying alone in the comfort of his shop. Jared shook the thoughts from his head. Bart was not the type of man to lie down on the side of the road and just pass on. He was pretty sure the cranky old man would either die in some sort of fight, accident, or in his sleep.

  Essie stepped away from Jared, walking maybe three paces out towards the edge of the hill they had all just climbed.

  “My mom would have liked this.” She swept her hand across the front of her little body, indicating the view.

  Bart interrupted the silence that followed Essie’s statement when he limped back to the group. “Let’s get off the crest here so someone doesn’t see us standing up here on top of the world.” Bart motioned for the duo to follow and started off into a small grove of scrub oak.

  Once under the cover of the oaks, Bart and Jared set about getting their camp set up while they still had the sun’s light. The tent went up, after which dinner was quickly prepared. The trio sat on the hard ground, eating in absolute silence, each person lost in their own thoughts or nightmares.

  Jared glanced at Essie, catching her staring blankly at the ground. He studied the little girl for a long while, wondering what a therapist would do with her. Essie’s mouth slowly moved as if she were speaking softly to someone or something, though no audible words came from her. Jared had few social skills, and those he did have were about as sharp as a bowling ball, so when it came to Essie, he was at a loss.

  Not only was she female, she was a little kid, and he hadn’t had much experience with either. Fuck it. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder in an effort to…well, he didn’t really know what, comfort her, break the staring contest she was having with the ground, or maybe just interrupt the dreadful memories she was most assuredly pouring over in her tiny head.

  Essie spun on him like a miniature cougar, fire in her eyes and a snarl on her lips. In spite of being three or four times her size, Jared recoiled, sliding backwards on his butt.

  “Why didn’t you come sooner?” she snarled. “You could have saved them.”

  Jared knew exactly what she was talking about, but had never been more at a loss for words. He started to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. What could you say to anyone who’d lost their parents in the manner Essie had? The few times Jared’s co-workers had lost loved ones, he felt so entirely awkward and uncomfortable that he chose to avoid them until enough time had passed and the subject didn’t need to be addressed. Now this small girl was holding his feet to the fire for something he didn’t have a bit of control over. Suddenly she flew at him, beating against his torso with her small clinched fists.

  “You didn’t come fast enough,” she screamed as Jared tried to control her flailing arms. “You didn’t save them ’cause you were late.” The last statement came in sobs as her rage was quickly replaced by the anguish of losing her parents.

  “That’s about enough of that,” came Bart’s gentle, but authoritative voice from behind the squabbling two. Bart’s face was a mask of seriousness as he approached the pair. “You, young one, should mind your manners.”

  Both Essie and Jared directed their att
ention to Bart. Jared temporarily forgot how shocked he was, while Essie’s emotions ebbed ever so slightly.

  Bart stopped short of the two, surveying them with fatherly firmness. “If he hadn’t come at all, you’d have starved to death in that cabinet back at your parents’ house.”

  Jared shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Essie who, until a few seconds before, had never shown she’d been adversely affected by the slaughter of her parents.

  “I get you miss your mom and dad, but the bottom line is neither of them were able to take care of you, and Jared here not only has taken care of you, but he most assuredly saved your life, and for that you should be grateful.”

  Little Essie’s shoulders slumped with this last remark, her head hung low, and she was back to staring at the ground, looking quite possibly like the most vulnerable thing Jared had ever seen. Emotion roiled inside him as he watched this tiny, fragile female human being in such a pitiful state. He felt his cheeks begin to heat up and knew the tears would come if he didn’t do something and do it quickly.

  He dropped to his knees in front of the waif, gathering her in close. She did not resist, instead burying her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her tears wetting his shirt. He in turn buried his face in her hair, where he could smell her scent, which was strong since bathing had become a luxury and not a chore.

  They held each other this way, rocking slowly back and forth, each quietly dealing with their own overtaxed human emotions, which seemed to be manufacturing demons like Ford did cars. Jared could not begin to imagine what was going on in this little girl’s head after all she had been through. He felt like a real heel for not being more aware that she might not be okay after her ordeal. More angering was his feeling of absolute helplessness when it came to Essie’s mental health. He was convinced that, given the opportunity, he’d cut off his thumb in exchange for an hour session with a child psychologist for Essie.