“Yeah, for a while, but Dad went deep into the national forest and brought back a few deer and some possums, porcupines, and raccoons. We managed to get by, but we all stayed hungry for the first three months. After that, dad said the hunting pressure died off as most of the people around us starved to death.”
“Did you guys feed anyone else?”
“Dad tried, but had to quit the second time somebody tried to kill him for the food he was carrying. We just kind of hunkered down after that.”
“How long did you have to avoid people?”
“Maybe six months. By mid-winter most of the people were dead. Man, you never smelled anything bad until you smell a town full of corpses. The dogs got after the dead folks and it got kinda serious around here for a while.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say that your dog may be the only dog in town right now.”
“Some ran off to join packs?”
“Yeah, and the men killed the rest. The worst though was hauling the dead folks out of their houses and burying them. I was only a grave digger, so I didn’t catch the worst of that.”
“Sounds like you were lucky.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“So how many people are left in town?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“So few?”
“Yeah. The town had a population of 1,100 or so.”
I did a quick mental calculation. “That’s a survival rate of only three and a half percent, or a little less?”
“Yeah, that’s the number my dad came up with too. You must be good at math.”
“So, how are the people who are left?”
“Great. We have some really nice folks. I think you’ll like them.”
“What about bad folks?” I asked thinking about Tolliver.
“There ain’t none left around here. The men killed them all off. I wanted to help but they wouldn’t let me. They said I was too young.”
“What about raiders?”
“Well, there were five men who came into town a few weeks ago who wanted to steal stuff from us.”
“What happened?”
“Some of the adults shot them.”
“The men?”
“No, men and women, with scoped deer rifles. Those men didn’t have a chance.”
I decided I wouldn’t tell anyone in town of my plans to kill Tolliver and the other man. But it seemed I might learn something from these people while I looked for what I needed.
And I did learn a few things. It turned out that Tom was a great help to me and a friend almost as good as Sackett.
Sackett made the most of his time in town. As he was the only dog, he got scads of attention from almost everyone. All the women and most of the kids fed him. Pretty soon I could tell he was gaining weight. But then, he’d been pretty lean. We both were. I looked in a mirror after two weeks in town and realized there was a reason my pants were getting tight too.
Finding what I needed took a while but it wasn’t difficult. The first thing I wanted was more knives, small, sharp, pointy knives. I made sheathes for them and strapped the sheathes all over my body. I had sheathed knives tucked into both of the new hiking boots I found in the stock room of the town shoe store. I had three automatic folding knives clipped inside my waistband, with the clips hidden behind my belt.
For a while I thought that was enough. Then, after I found new jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that fit, I strapped small sheath knives to both forearms under the shirt sleeves. The left one made shooting a bow a little more difficult, but I adjusted quickly.
I still had my belt and pocket pistols, but I added another .22 snub-nosed revolver in a calf holster. I even traded the old single shot rifle and some deer jerky for a lever-action .30-30 carbine, a Marlin, and three boxes of cartridges.
I felt like I weighed twenty more pounds and jingled and clacked when I walked. I didn’t really jingle and clack, because I made sure I didn’t. But I did feel decidedly heavier.
I wondered if I was just being paranoid, adding all the concealed weapons. Then I remembered that things seldom went the way I planned and I thought about adding even more weapons to my every day carry array.
But I didn’t. Maybe I should have.
Of all the places I’d been, I hated most to leave Tom and his town. Here I was a boy again, mostly anyway. Tom and I explored, fished, and hunted together, sometimes with one or two of his brothers along as well. It was an incredible lifestyle for a boy soon to be thirteen. If I could have wished for a perfect existence, I couldn’t have come up with anything better than this.
But I had to leave. Tolliver and the other man waited. I owed them a debt and the debt would be paid just like the preacher at Mom’s church said. A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye, and a life for a life.
It had to be done, but I hoped that once it was done, if I survived, that would be the end of violence in my life. All I wanted to do was have good times with Sackett and maybe a few friends. After Tolliver and the other man were removed, I never wanted to kill anyone again.
I loaded my pack and, after saying my goodbyes to all thirty-eight of the townspeople who had gathered to see us off, I set off towards the forest. Sackett lingered behind, still gobbling the treats that many had brought for him. At first I thought he might stay behind, but he followed me. He’d eaten so much I thought he might throw up, but then so had I. Especially the apple pie Tom’s mom had baked in an old wood stove. I ate three pieces for breakfast while she urged me to eat more.
Me and Sackett made poor time that day. We had to stop and rest more often than before. But in a couple of days we were moving normally again, or almost.
It was time to find Tolliver. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance he was still in the same house, so that’s where we went first. It was a six-day trip, maybe because I wasn’t in a hurry.
On TV, every time I saw someone with vengeance in their heart, they were angry and in a rush. I wasn’t angry any more, nor was I in a hurry. I just knew that I didn’t want Tolliver and his friend to do to any other women what they hand done to Mom, my sisters, and Zee. These men were monsters, and my world couldn’t abide monsters.
But I was calm and calculating. I hoped that meant I’d prevail.
When we arrived at the edge of town, me and Sackett waited until the stars were out. Then we slipped into town and made our way to a spot where I could watch the house. I was careful not to even step into any area I’d used before. There might be traps waiting for me and Sackett. Tolliver wasn’t stupid, just mean.
I told Sackett to stay in some bushes and I climbed a big old oak tree. We were a block and a half from Tolliver's house. Come morning, I’d be able to see if anyone entered or left the house.
Man, three days sitting in a tree with only jerky to eat sucks, but not as much as having to hang your ass over a tree limb fifty feet above the ground when you have to crap. I hadn’t known how long it took a turd to fall fifty feet. I filed that info away. Maybe it would come in handy if I ever told this story to Tom.
On the morning of the fourth day, a man walked up the street and knocked on the door of the house. It wasn’t Tolliver.
But Tolliver answered the door, slapped the man on the back and they went inside. I was too far away to hear what they said.
Okay, target acquired. I waited until after midnight and crept closer. I left Sackett behind and snuckered into my hide. I like the word snuckered even though my sixth grade teacher didn’t. She said it wasn’t a word and we shouldn’t use it. But us boys used it to mean sneaking into a hunker-down spot, or hiding place. Shit, Shakespeare made up words, why couldn’t we?
Back in the neighborhood, Todd Lott said snuckered means tricked or bamboozled, but he’s from the big city. What does he know? We don’t even talk like those city folks around here.
So I told Sackett to stay put outside town and snuck into my ambush spot. I spent parts of six nights getting the spot ready before I even started watc
hing for Tolliver. I cut some limbs out of the way and dug in deep enough so I’d have a clear shot at the front door, and be able to drop deeper into the hole to avoid any gunfire.
This time I also dug a tunnel from my hole to another clump of bushes ten feet away. I worked my ass off getting that tunnel dug. It was too small for a full-grown man, but I could scoot through it like a greased pig in a chute.
No one had trimmed any of the bushes around the houses since the lights went out. That made concealment easier for me.
I set up and waited. My arrow, one of the two with the real Indian arrowheads, was nocked and ready. In the hole was a full gallon jug of water, and enough food for three days. I even had a poop hole dug in the bottom of my big hole, just in case.
Two mornings later, the front door opened and Tolliver stepped onto the porch. I drew my bow and loosed an arrow. The shot was perfect and the arrow struck Tolliver right where I aimed, right in the heart.
I watched in amazement as the arrow struck and then almost bounced off of Tolliver. It wasn’t until I heard the arrow fall into the porch boards that I remembered my escape tunnel.
Tolliver took a step backwards, and hollered “Son of a bitch.” His hand went to where the arrow had struck and then he held his palm out like he was looking for blood.
The door behind Tolliver burst open and three men came out.
“Over there,” Tolliver pointed.
I ducked into the tunnel as a burst of gunfire shredded the bush above my pit. I popped out of the hole at the end of my tunnel and ran behind a house.
“There he goes,” Someone hollered.
I ran as fast as I could go. The problem was so did the men chasing me. And they had longer legs.
Chapter 26
I dropped my bow so I could run faster. Shit, it was a good bow too.
I stretched my legs as far as I could with each step wishing Mom had let me join the sixth grade track club. I ditched my quiver and then my small rucksack. I was losing ground. The men were gaining on me.
I wished I could ditch all of my concealed weapons too, but doing so would just slow me down.
I had to do something to slow them down. Otherwise they’d catch me in less than three minutes.
I ran around the corner of a house and pulled my belt pistol. I turned and ran backwards while watching the corner of the house. When the first man appeared I raised my pistol and fired five shots as fast as I could pull the trigger. The man reversed his direction, almost in mid-air, and dove behind the house.
“What the fuck? The little bastard has a gun.”
“So do we, dumb-ass. Come on.”
By now I’d dropped my pistol and resumed running forward. I’d gained some distance, but maybe not enough. I ran faster, not yet breathing hard, but with each breath I sucked harder for air. Soon, I’d be blowing like a racehorse, but not running as fast. Right now I'd give anything to have four long legs like a horse.
I glanced over my shoulder. Two of the men were starting to drop behind, but one man was still gaining on me. I tried to run faster but couldn’t. I scrabbled to get the little pistol from my right pants pocket while I ran. I couldn’t manage to get my hand in my pocket.
It was now or never. If I waited any longer the man would be too close. I stopped, fished the pistol from my pocket, turned, and went to one knee raising the gun as I dropped.
Trying to hold my breath and steady the sights, I aimed. My first shot missed but the man slowed. My next shot hit him in the leg. I could see the spout of blood from above his right knee.
He drew a pistol from his belt and pointed it at me. I fired again and missed. He fired and missed me by maybe the width of two molecules of air. My cheek burned as the bullet passed.
I fired again. He dropped his pistol and grabbed at his throat. I could see the redness welling up and flowing over his hands.
I was running away at full speed as he collapsed. My little pistol was still in my right hand. I looked over my shoulder. No pursuit. I grinned and kept running.
I rounded the corner of the next house thinking I was gonna get away and ran right into Tolliver’s friend, the one who had raped and murdered my mom and sisters. I raised my pistol and he slapped it out of my hand. His big hand grabbed my shirt and jerked me to a stop. Then his right fist connected with my head and I passed out.
I woke upside down. I was groggy and confused but I knew it was bad. As my eyes focused, I could see Tolliver and the man who caught me standing only twenty-five feet away. As I watched, several other men gathered with them. Tolliver held my bow and quiver of arrows.
He set them down and walked up to me.
“You little shit. I should just put a bullet in your head.”
I struggled to get free, realizing my feet were bound and I was hanging upside down from a tree limb.
“Digger, you and Slim come tie this boy’s hands to the ground so he can’t wiggle so much.”
The two men tied a rope around each of my wrists and then staked my hands to the ground, stretching me so tight it hurt.
“That’s good,” Tolliver said as the two men returned.
The men were grinning and laughing and one of them produced a bottle of whiskey and was passing it around.
Tolliver knelt and, with his face on a level with mine, said, “Boy, you like that bow and arrow so much, let’s see how you like being the target?”
“Why?”
“Why what, Shithead?”
“Why did my arrow bounce off?”
Tolliver grinned and opened his shirt to show me a bulletproof vest. “Because, I’m smarter than you, that’s why.”
I could see where the arrow had cut the outer cloth of the vest. Tolliver pulled back the cloth at the rip showing me the tip of the stone point still embedded in the Kevlar fabric. Tolliver said, “Stone points ain’t worth shit against modern technology. That’s why the Indians didn’t make it.”
“So you’re telling me that cowboys had bulletproof vests?”
“Well, maybe not, but you know what I mean.”
“I didn’t figure on you having a bulletproof vest,” I said.
“Apparently not. Why do you want to kill me boy?”
“You killed King and Al.”
“I’ve killed lots of folks since the lights went out. I like killing.”
“And you and your friends raped and killed my mom and sisters.”
“Ain’t life a bitch? And then you die.” Tolliver rose to his feet. “I used to be pretty good with a bow. I’m fixing to turn you into a fucking pincushion. This is gonna be the most fun I’ve had… well, since your mom and sisters anyway.” Tolliver grinned, the yellow of his teeth highlighting his dead eyes.
“Fuck you,” I said.
“Not likely, Kid.” Tolliver smiled showing even more of his yellow teeth. Tolliver walked back to where his friends stood and picked up my bow. He pulled the bow part-way a few times and then picked up an arrow and examined it. “Hey, these aren’t bad kid. Did you make these yourself?”
I yelled, “I didn’t buy them at the hardware store.”
Tolliver passed the arrow and then the bow around and his friends looked both of them over. I could tell that a couple of them were impressed, but the others paid little attention and spent more time passing the bottle around.
One of the men said, “Hey Tolliver, you need a target. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
The passing of the bottle resumed. I can’t say I was sad for the reprieve, even if it was just temporary. Was I going to die from my own arrow? The thought pissed me off. What would happen to Sackett?
At first I was scared. No one wants to die, least of all a twelve-year-old kid with a mighty fine dog. Then I just got mad. It would be stupid of me to waste a second being afraid. Instead I needed to focus all of my brainpower, however little it was, on getting away, or at least surviving what would come next.
I mentally reviewed my options. I had a knife in each boot, but I couldn’t reach either
of them. I also had knives strapped to my forearms under my shirt sleeves, and knives in my waistband and pockets. But, with my hands stretched out and tied to stakes hammered into the ground, I couldn’t reach them either.
I still had a small pistol concealed in my waistband, but that might as well have been on Mars. Fuck, what good were all of my plans now? But giving up wasn’t an option. If I wanted to live, I couldn’t give up. I had to keep trying. I begin bending at the waist and trying to get my body to swing back and forth. I was still doing that when the man returned and held me still before taping a paper target on my chest. Then he stood beside Tolliver.
Tolliver nocked an arrow.
“Prepare to die, you little shit.”
I kept swinging back and forth as best I could. I thought about closing my eyes as Tolliver drew the bow. I could see that he had the other stone-tipped arrow. Shit, that was a sharp point. I’d killed a deer with it and the arrow passed all the way through the deer. I could still see a bloodstain that didn’t wash out on the top feather. I wondered how much it would hurt?
I swung back and forth as hard as I could as Tolliver continued to draw the bow. I watched as he reached my draw length with six-inches of arrow extending past the bow. He kept drawing the bow farther and farther. Dang, my bow shot hard anyway, but Tolliver was gonna make it shoot even harder.
Then, just as the arrowhead almost touched the bow, I heard a loud crack. I knew that sound. I smiled as the bow broke and Tolliver screamed. He dropped the bow and I saw the arrow sticking out of his wrist. I’d come close to having that happen a couple of times myself.
One of the men pulled the arrow out of Tolliver’s wrist. I could see he was bleeding, but not nearly as much as I hoped. The others just stood around laughing and drinking. They ignored me. I kept swinging back and forth trying to loosen one of the stakes. Tolliver and one of the men left.
Soon Tolliver reappeared, a white bandage around his wrist. He stomped over to me. “You little shit, you planned that.”
“If I planned that well, you’d already be dead.”
Tolliver smiled. “Yeah, you may be right. You ain’t a good planner.” Tolliver winced as he rubbed the bandage on his wrist. “But I am. I’m gonna fetch a modern bow and put an arrow in you, you little son of a bitch. You just wait here.” Tolliver laughed, a brittle laugh that hid something. Fear? “What’s that, you’ll hang around? Why thanks, kid.”
EMP (Book 3): 12 Years Old and Alone Page 20