A World Slowed

by Rick Tippins

  Back on the hill, Jared felt like he was being electrocuted as he tried in vain to calm his nerves. He lost track of Calvin and Bart when they went to the rear of the small house, and now he couldn’t see any of the gang members, but he could hear them inside the house as they ransacked the place. Not knowing where the two older men were was more than a little unnerving. Jared wished he had a walkie-talkie so he could find out what was happening.

  Had he thought about it in a tactical sense, he would have realized he probably had the best view of what was going on down below even though he was the furthest from the house. He had the high ground, and Bart hadn’t left him there by accident. He felt like he should do something, move, shoot, call out to the older men, something. Instead he stayed put, nerves twitching, mind racing, adrenaline pumping.

  Bart sat hunched over in the bushes, running scenario after scenario over in his head. He could go in shooting, probably getting one or both of them shot or killed. He was pretty goddamn sure he wouldn’t have an issue convincing Calvin to follow him into the house no matter the plan, but that scenario was beyond terrible.

  He moved on to the next plan, wishing he had some way of talking to Jared so he could be fed information helpful to his decision-making. They could wait till the guys came out, got in the vehicle, and then simply ambush them. Shoot the holy hell out of the car and all four occupants, but Bart didn’t like that plan either. Yeah, he’d probably kill or incapacitate all the gang members, but they’d also destroy the only working vehicle Bart had seen in more than a month, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that.

  As fate would have it, Salvador forced the issue by coming out the back door and heading straight for the bushes Bart and Calvin were hunkered down in. As he approached the two older men, he unzipped his pants, hollering something over his shoulder in Spanish.

  The whole thing evolved so quick, Bart knew Calvin would be on full overload, so he didn’t count on any help from the man. Bart saw Salvador moving directly toward him and knew what was coming. The man would see them and, though Bart was sure he would be surprised, he knew he’d be more surprised if Bart simply stood up and shot him dead. Bart also knew that, with the guy dead, he couldn’t warn any of the other ass bags in the house, and they would be confused after hearing a single shot. Bart hoped they would think this dumbass had had an accidental discharge, and simply saunter out the back to mock him, and that was when the real shooting would start.

  When Salvador was twenty feet from the two, Bart stood up straight and shot the man in the face with his rifle. As Salvador’s body dropped straight to the ground in a heap of bloody gang-member mush, the racket inside the house stopped. Bart immediately moved laterally and towards the residence, getting off the center line of the back door.

  His plan was to spread out and create distance between him and Calvin, making it impossible for the gang members to fire on both of them at the same time. Shouts in Spanish erupted from inside the house as the back door blasted open, the three remaining gang members spilling out into the rear yard. Bart ducked as Calvin’s shotgun roared from behind him. Ah, the old fucker wasn’t mummified by my sudden violent and deadly act.

  The three gang members were so close, they all caught pellets from Calvin’s blast. Yelping and bleeding, they searched for a target while climbing over each other in an attempt to return to the safety of the small house. Without thinking, Bart brought the rifle to his shoulder and fired nearly a dozen rounds at the retreating mass of worthless humanity.

  Two of the men went down while the third made the back door, disappearing inside the house. Another blast rocked the quiet mountain air, causing Bart to wince as more double-aught buck slammed into the already downed bodies of the two stricken gang members. Bart heard a single shot from inside the house, most likely an accidental discharge from the panicked gang member who had just been witness to fifty percent of his group being gunned down right before his eyes.

  Bart smiled inwardly, knowing he had the upper hand for the time being. Calvin rushed towards him, intent on entering the house, but Bart grabbed him by the shoulder, directing him along the side of the small house.

  From the front of the house, Bart heard several shots, a pause, then a few more shots before all went quiet. He took a knee, making damn sure Calvin did the same, directing him to watch their six. Bart inched his way towards the front of the house, stopping short and scanning as much of the yard as he could see. The Beetle was still there, as was the last gang member.

  The guy was sprawled out in a less than natural position, rifle still slung and underneath his body. Bart could see both the unmoving man’s hands, and they were nowhere near the rifle and its trigger mechanism. Bart stared at the man, looking for any signs of movement, but saw none. He raised his rifle and fired three rounds into the downed gang member, then stood and called out to Jared, “You good up there?”

  Jared had heard gunfire erupt from the rear of the house, but couldn’t see anything from his position. The front door burst open, and one of the gang members came staggering out, bleeding and clutching a rifle. Before Jared realized what he was doing, he had the man in his sights and was pulling the trigger. The first round struck the man in the shoulder, and the next two rounds went wide. Jared had adjusted, firing two more rounds as the man plunged headfirst onto the dirt drive.

  The next few seconds seemed like an eternity as Jared searched desperately for any sign of life below him. The gang member was not moving, and he had no idea where Bart and Calvin were until several shots rang out from the side of the house, causing Jared to nearly piss himself. When Bart called out to him, Jared was overcome with relief. He leaped to his feet, coming out of his hiding place on the hill, and made his way down to the house, where Bart and Calvin were inspecting the downed man, who was currently providing nourishment to the yard’s vegetation in the form of blood loss.

  Jared had never been so happy to be with other people in his life. Waiting on that hill had nearly seen him come apart at the seams. He felt so alone he’d nearly lost it and just called out or, worse yet, come down to the house, where he likely would have either been purposely shot by the gang or accidentally shot by Calvin or Bart. Well, on second thought, if he had melted down on that level and Bart had shot him, it probably wouldn’t have been accidental.

  “We nabbed the other three in the back there,” Bart said, gesturing down the side of the small house.

  Jared stared at the fallen man, then blankly down the side of the house as Bart placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did good, kid. You did good.”

  Calvin spat at the man on the ground. “Sons of bitches tore up the house.” He turned and stalked off towards the front door, disappearing inside.

  Bart scanned the area, then nodded back up the hill. “Why don’t you go get the girls. They’re probably scared half to death after all the shooting.”

  Jared gave a slow nod, turned and walked slowly up the hill.

  “Hey,” Bart called after him.

  Jared stopped, turning to stare numbly at the old man.

  “Remember a couple of things, boy, death is just that, death. Don’t make more of it than what it merits.” The older man stepped closer to Jared, lowering his voice. “Examine it and how it affects you; then you can apply the appropriate emotions to it.”

  Jared tilted his head ever so slightly. He had no idea what the old bastard was talking about now. Hell, he wasn’t really in the mood or the state of mind to absorb any of Bart’s veiled lessons at the moment.

  “C’mon, man, think about hitting a squirrel with a car, no big deal, right? Now think about hitting a dog and, well, quite frankly, it will be a little worse on your conscience.” Bart turned, gesturing to the downed gang member. “This turd isn’t even a squirrel, and we are far better off without him. Fuck, let me rephrase that, we all are a shit ton better off without him lurking around trying to kill, steal or whatever.” Bart held his hands out, palms up. “You should be celebrating. Save the morose shi
t for a time when one of these motherfuckers hurts one of us.”

  Jared nodded more in understanding than in agreement, turned, and resumed his trek to retrieve the womenfolk.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  After Jared left, Bart searched for and found the keys still in the Beetle’s ignition. He opened the door and dropped into the driver’s seat before turning the key. Despite the appearance of the vehicle, the rattle trap sputtered twice, then sprang to life in that loping VW way.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Bart exclaimed, marveling at the first car he’d seen in weeks. Although he’d grown up in the age of automobiles, this truly seemed like a miracle.

  Calvin burst out the front door with the same look on his face as Bart wore on his own. Bart stepped out of the chugging Beetle, smiling broadly as a slow grin stretched across Calvin’s face while he shook his head.

  “What a beautiful piece of shit,” Calvin yelled over the hum of the vehicle’s motor.

  Bart nodded in agreement. “And it’s all ours.”

  Calvin lost the grin, regarding Bart more than a little suspiciously. “Ours, or yours?”

  Bart leaned his head back, exhaling long and loud. “Jesus Christ, my man, can’t we just fucking enjoy the moment without worrying about who gets what and who’s gonna fuck over who?”

  “It’s a legitimate question, Bart,” Calvin countered as Bart reached inside the vehicle, shutting the sputtering Beetle’s motor off.

  In the silence that followed, Bart closed the door and slung his rifle purposefully to his back. “Listen, man, it’s ours, as in your group’s and my group’s. We both need it—we both need it now more than ever.” Calvin was silent, so Bart continued, “These boys lying in your yard got friends and lots of ’em, and they’re gonna come looking for these guys when they don’t come back. Now do their friends know where they went? I don’t know the answer to that, but if they do, then those other boys will be headed to your house soon enough.

  “Secondly, these kinds are not known for their turn-the-other-cheek ways, if you know what I mean.” Calvin remained silent as Bart kept talking. “They are a…how would you say it? A vengeful group of assholes.” Bart gestured back to the Beetle. “Plus, we got their car.” And with that Bart smiled an evil grin.

  Calvin let the shotgun hang, holding his arms out. “So, what are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is we all have to get the hell out of here and sooner than later. You and your daughter can ride with us to a safer place, and then we can all decide what happens to the car.”

  Calvin looked puzzled. “Daughter? Shannon? She’s not my daughter, she’s a schoolteacher who lives up the road. Hell, she came down about two weeks ago ’cause she ran through all her food and water and didn’t know what else to do. She was headed down to the city, but I talked her out of that. Couldn’t imagine a female going down there would have a very good experience.”

  Bart regarded the other man for a moment. “Okay, she’s not your daughter.”

  “She’s not my anything,” Calvin quickly added.

  Bart backed up a step, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say she was your anything, friend.” Bart thought briefly about irritating the little nerve he had unwittingly struck, but thought better of it. “We gotta go more ’cause we got their car than anything else,” Bart said, changing the subject. “Car thieving wasn’t a big deal a month ago, but a hundred and fifty years ago if you stole a man’s horse, they’d hang you for it. I think we just got knocked back a hundred and fifty years. The difference in having a horse or a car now can very well mean the difference between living and dying.”

  Jared and the two girls interrupted the conversation as they crested the hill, scrambling down towards the two men and the gruesome mess that had once been Salvador and his crew.

  Bart threw up a hand to Jared. “Hold tight a minute while we clean up,” he shouted.

  Jared didn’t miss a beat, grabbing both girls by the arms and turning them back up the hill. After they vanished over the top and out of sight, Calvin and Bart set to dragging the dead bastard back to the rear of the little house, where his dead bastard friends were patiently waiting.

  It took about five minutes to drag the Beetle’s prior owner and his three friends into some bushes to the rear of the house, where they were summarily tossed down an embankment, coming to rest in the bottom of a small dry seasonal creek bed. Bart returned to the front of the house, trying to kick some dirt over the blood-soaked drive, but finally gave up, calling for Jared and the womenfolk.

  After the shooting, Jared had trudged up the hill, finding the girls huddled in some bushes. Shannon was visibly ecstatic to see him coming instead of some Hispanic gang member. She was obviously shaken, but holding it together for the sake of Essie. Jared let them know the house was safe and all the bad guys were gone, which was how he put it.

  Neither woman nor girl questioned the meaning of the word gone as they walked back towards the house, but Jared couldn’t help noticing Essie was hanging closer to Shannon than to him. He wasn’t hurt by this; instead he was curious about it, like some experiment he was able to watch unfold as a third party.

  After Bart sent them back up the hill, Shannon told Jared she was a schoolteacher in Fremont, lived by herself in a house on forty acres just about two miles up the road, and had bought the place five years ago. Shannon said although the commute could be a bear, she liked the peace and quiet after dealing with middle-school heathens five days a week.

  Her summers were what she lived for; she told Jared she would sometimes go an entire month without leaving her property. She read books, drank coffee and enjoyed the beautiful countryside for weeks at a time, saying it was always a shock to go into town for food and other life necessities.

  As Shannon spoke, Jared realized for the first time how naturally pretty this woman was. She had long dark brown hair, emerald green eyes, and smooth olive skin. From what Jared could tell, she appeared to either run or participate in some other form of exercise. Bart’s loud voice boomed from below, bringing Jared back to reality, causing him to shake his head ever so slightly.

  He wasn’t one to ogle a female or even talk to one, for that matter; now here he was admiring her every feature. All this run-and-gun stuff might be adding testosterone to his body and in turn causing him to think with his little head instead of his big head. He’d been able to avoid that fairly well most of his life, and now when distractions like that could mean death, he was acting like a sixteen-year-old.

  Down in the front yard, Bart laid out a plan to load everything they could load into and onto the Beetle, then move east, away from the city. Shannon protested, saying her place was two miles up the road and they could stay there for now, but Bart wasn’t having any of that. “We can’t be anywhere near this mess when their friends come looking for them.”

  Calvin, who had been quiet till now, stepped forward. “We should load up and move farther into the mountains.” The beleaguered group listened as he continued, “I saw people come out of the mountains on horseback after the first week or two, heading to the city for food, water, maybe answers, I don’t know. I didn’t see a one of ’em come back.”

  They talked amongst themselves, and it was decided that the people who’d left their homes in the relative safety of the mountains had probably died with most of the rest of the people in the city areas. They were probably either robbed or met with some other equally tragic ending. This meant there would be many homes ahead that would likely be vacant or inhabited only by women, children or corpses. No one said it, but they all hoped to find a vacant home and not one inhabited with the dead or dying.

  Under the direction of Bart and Calvin, the group salvaged the supplies from the house, rigged a hitch for the bike trailer so they could tow it behind the Beetle, and prepared to leave. Before they finished packing, Jared opened the front of the Beetle and found food, water, ammunition, a tent, and four sleeping bags. He felt immediate elation, which hel
ped with that wrung-out feeling he had after killing another human. Sure, he killed the day he found Essie but that was somehow different. He’d been nearly blinded with anger and hadn’t really thought about his own safety.

  Today was different. He was alone, calm, and then scared with nothing happening. Then, bang, he was in a gunfight, and, as fast as it all started, it was over. Those few seconds were able to ruin his entire day, leaving him feeling exposed in this new world. Although he had won a gunfight, Jared couldn’t help thinking that a man could only get in so many of these things before he got shot or killed. It was a simple game of odds. You either won or lost and, the more you won, the more likely you’d soon incur a loss. He shuddered at the thought of lying face down in the dirt, dying, and leaving Essie to fend for herself.

  The discovery of the tent and sleeping bags seemed to calm Bart’s nerves by about five percent. He reasoned if the gang had a tent and sleeping bags, maybe they wouldn’t be expected back today, which gave his group more of a head start. He still urged the group to pack quickly.

  Once they had everything they could stuff, strap down, or pack, they loaded into the Beetle, and Bart instructed Jared to drive. The two bikes were strapped to the roof, the front trunk was stuffed to overflowing, and the trailer was repacked with more gear than Jared would have been able to tow with the bicycle. They had even packed all the gang’s weapons and ammunition. Even though the weapons were different than any Bart’s group were carrying, he felt they might be able to use them for trading purposes in the future.

  They slowly rumbled out to the road, where Bart had Jared pull to a stop while he climbed out, tore some branches off a nearby tree, and used them to sweep away any sign of the vehicle’s tire tracks in the loose dirt drive.