Joshua (Book 1)

by John S. Wilson

  The man stood there unable to take his eyes off the boy and the rage continued growing within him. He didn’t think it possible to hold that much. His breathing had an odd controlled calm that denied his true feelings inside. The rage had by now been joined by hate and the two together twisted and formed into something the man had never known before, a perfect murderous fury that now only waited for a purpose to be put to it.

  And standing there over the lifeless boy the man knew the monster that did this had no right to go on living! No right to be breathing the same precious air as human beings did! Fortunately, he knew where the monster was.

  A small voice suddenly interrupted the man’s exquisite hate. “What’s going on?” the boy called out as he approached the campsite. He awoke alone and went looking for the man.

  The man returned the knife to his pocket. He then quickly walked away from the horror to catch the inquisitive child, stopping the boy before he could see it. In a feigned calm he spoke, struggling to keep that fury inside from clawing its way out. “Nothing is going on … let’s go.”

  “Was somebody there?” the child asked as he tried to see for himself, curious as to what the man was deliberately blocking from his view.

  “Yes, but they’re gone now,” the man told the child, speaking in that odd, controlled voice. He then promptly took Joshua by his hand and started back towards their camp, forcibly dragging the child along, the boy straining to see whatever it was the man obviously didn’t want him to.

  They walked back at an unrelenting pace, the whole time the child’s small feet constantly stumbling as he tried to keep up with the man pulling him along.

  Finally they arrived back at their own camp, the fire long cold, the man at last loosening his grip on the child’s tender hand and still speaking in that peculiar tone. “I’ve got to go on a special trip. I won’t be gone long.”

  “What? I’m going with you.”

  “No you’re not, you’re staying here.”

  “I don’t want to be here alone.”

  “You’ll be all right, this is a nice spot. No one can see you from here. You’ve got your books and toys and plenty of food and water too. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

  “I don’t want to stay here all day by myself. I’m scared to!” The boy had been left alone before although not for such a long time. But more worrying to the child was the strange sound in the man’s voice, something he never heard before today and told him that there was most definitely something very wrong. The boy didn’t know what all of this was about but it was obvious even to a seven-year-old that it had something to do with the campsite they just hastily left behind. “Who was over there? What was you looking at? I want to see it too!”

  Immediately the man grabbed him by both wrists, his forceful grip unintentionally hurting the child. “You stay away from there! You stay right here till I come back! YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

  Joshua had never seen the man this mad and didn’t know what to think or how to respond. He stood there staring up at him too frightened to answer, or even make a sound at all.

  “I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

  Finally the boy was able to speak but all he could manage was a small, scared, “Yes.”

  The boy’s face told the man he was hurting him and he quickly let go. He then went promptly to his tasks, trying not to think of the pain and fear he just saw in the child’s eyes, the pain and fear he put there himself.

  He picked up the web belt, replacing the pistol in its holster and then put the belt on, checking that his extra magazines and knife were there too. The man then crouched over the pack carefully looking through it with a specific object in mind. He pulled out his scope and attached it to the rifle. After checking the rifle’s chamber and making sure the safety was engaged, his work was complete. He then stood up again, turning to face the boy.

  The boy was standing there silently watching it all, knowing that something was very wrong. The boy knew the man was going no matter what he said so he stood there saying nothing at all.

  The man had to stop the punishing silence so he spoke again in that false calm. “I’m not going to be gone very long. You’ll be okay, just don’t start a fire.” He then grabbed the boy’s pack with his books and toys and walked over tossing them down on his bed. “Here, these will keep you busy all day, you won’t even miss me.” Then he grabbed the sack with their food and also brought the jug that contained drinking water.

  The boy just stood there observing it all, not speaking, his wretched look cutting right through the man.

  The man tried to keep the ugly void filled, his rushed words insufficient for the sizeable job. “I won’t be gone long, I promise. Okay?”

  The boy just continued staring and wouldn’t give the man even the slightest, smallest sound.

  He then took the boy by the hand again and led him to his bed, where the man began smoothing it out and patting it down. “Here, sit down,” the man continued to pat the bed as if teaching the boy a trick, “right here.”

  The boy just watched him, offering up neither a sound nor a word, but he still told the man volumes with his sad accusing eyes.

  “Right here.”

  At last the boy quietly complied, sitting down on his bed. But he wouldn’t stop staring at him with a look that continued to dredge up unwanted feelings in the man.

  “I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back later today. You’ll be fine.” The man now saying anything to stop the damning silence.

  The man knew it was time to go and he looked to Joshua hoping for even the slightest scrap of forgiveness. But the boy’s icy glare offered no relief for what he felt inside.

  The man then picked up his rifle and turned west, away from the morning sun, the same direction the monster was going. As he came to the top of the hill, he turned back to face the boy.

  The boy sat there on his bed just as the man placed him, still staring at him with those unyielding, unforgiving eyes.

  The man feebly waved a good-bye and with that turned west again. Walking away he was a mass of conflicted emotions, the hate and the guilt fighting for control over the man’s mind.

  He then paused, turning back towards the hidden meadow that protected the child. He thought to just forget all of this and go back to the boy. But with a few moments’ reflection just as quickly changed his direction again, heading off north, back to where the monster had slept for the night.

  When he arrived he once more found himself standing there over the boy, the other boy. This boy and his were so very much alike, and as he stood there staring down at the anonymous child he could instead see Joshua lying there in the bag. Joshua lying there, raped and murdered and set out with the trash.

  In the end the hate won out just as the man knew it would and that murderous fury overwhelmed him again and entirely consumed him inside … and again he knew without a doubt that the monster must die.

  As he left the last thing he did was kick out the smoldering embers of the fire and with a quickened pace once more headed in the wake of the monster. The monster he was sure must die.

  With a trotting pace, the man caught up to the group after forty-five minutes, finally sighting them about five hundred yards off. Spying from a hilltop, he was finally able to get a good look at them in the bright morning light.

  There were three of them, the monster and two women. The monster and one of the women were leading out in front. The second woman was right behind the other two and pushing what appeared to be a modified wheelbarrow. The second woman also had a pronounced limping gait that was obviously holding the three back.

  As quickly and quietly as he could the man closed the distance with his target by another two hundred yards. At the shorter distance and with his rifle’s scope, he was able to get a much more detailed look at his target.

  Overall the three gave the appearance of being dirty and ragged. They all wore mismatched and tattered clothes. The monster had a rifle slung over his shoulder that could
have been an M16 or AR-15, at this distance the man couldn’t say for sure. The woman up front didn’t appear to be armed but the one behind had a rifle within arm’s reach inside the wheelbarrow.

  From the angle the man was observing, he couldn’t see much of what was in it except the blued steel barrel of a bolt-action rifle sticking out the top. The wheelbarrow seemed to be the standard garden variety with a green metal tub, wooden handles and a thinning black rubber tire. Around the sides were several pieces of scrap plywood acting like a fence holding their possessions in. It was an odd looking contraption that appeared to be held together with silver duct tape and yards of wire.

  The man’s heart suddenly began pounding when he realized the time had now come for what he planned to do. In all of these years he never actually went looking to kill a man. He had no military experience, he was no tactician. If he learned anything in his years traveling it was that the best way to win a gunfight was not be in one at all. He thought the thing to do was just shoot the monster at a distance. The man knew he was capable of the shot but was not sure he could do it. He did know not to think about it too long, or he would never do it.

  He went prone on the ground taking his rifle up to his shoulder and preparing for the kill shot. The man then brought his eye to the scope and his target into view.

  As he lie there with the monster in his sight, the man found it was getting more difficult to breathe by the second, harder with every lungful he took in. His heart was hammering, he couldn’t find a breath, he wasn’t sure he could finish what he started.

  Then the man got that feeling again and dropped his eyes to the ground, that nauseating sensation in his stomach whenever he killed someone. But this time it was different because the feeling came before, not after.

  The man then noticed an ant crawling on a trampled blade of grass under him. He knew this time it was murder. But with some more thought at last he was resolved that although it was murder it had to be done. He brought his eye back up to the scope while trying to control his breathing, and as he did took aim again on his target.

  From the angle he was aiming the woman in back kept coming in and out of his view. The man was reasonably sure he could kill the monster from this position but decided not to take the chance of hitting the woman. Instantly he was on his feet again, running, closing the distance.

  The man kept moving as fast as he could without giving himself away. The second woman was slowing them down and in just a short time he overtook the three. He was now out in front of them, keeping low as he watched them approach. Then a new plan came to his mind.

  He could see the group was slowly approaching a small rise and it was his intention to be there and ready to shoot when they crossed over. He moved toward the site of his planned ambush and found a large rock waiting for him there. It seemed ideal for the job.

  Kneeling down, he set the rifle on top of the rock, giving him steady aim, waiting for his prey to come. As he sat there behind the rock closely listening, it only took a few minutes before he finally heard something. What he could hear was the sound of the three of them walking through the grass and the squeaking wheel of that rundown old cart slowly approaching. He dialed the scope back to low magnification and sat there impatiently waiting for them, ready to take his shot. The sound was slowly getting closer and closer and then after forever he at last saw it, the woman and her wheelbarrow coming over the top.

  The instant the man saw her he knew this was all wrong. Immediately he turned to his left but there was nothing, then he spun to his right just in time to see the monster rushing towards him from fifty feet away.

  The monster was running right at the man, firing, and he could hear the bullets buzzing around his head like they were flies. With not a second to spare, he grabbed his own rifle and began firing without aiming, the stock pinned between his ribs and elbow, the man frantically shooting from the hip.

  The monster was still shooting and almost on top of him, having closed the distance between them to fifteen feet. The man continued blindly firing without effect until one lucky bullet tore into the monster’s groin, landing with a resounding thump. The monster was spun around by the blow and fell to the ground, his rifle wildly flung into the air.

  With no time to lose the man got up and ran towards the monster, he was lying face down on the ground, already trying to drag himself over to his rifle. From the look of the wound his hip was shattered, his left leg now useless, as he little by little crawled back to his gun.

  The monster slowly inched towards his rifle. As he was about to reach it, out of nowhere something came from above him and plunged through the back of his hand. The monster could see a man towering over him, the stranger holding a knife that skewered his hand, pinning it to the ground.

  The man knelt there holding the knife that nailed the monster’s hand to the ground. With his other hand he grabbed its rifle, pulling it out of reach. He then let go of the knife and picked up both guns, while the monster continued swearing and struggling, his hand still fixed to the ground. As he stood there curiously watching the thing, the man suddenly heard a screaming fast approaching from behind.

  “Get away from my husband!” The shrieking woman was on top of the man before he ever saw her coming. She slashed at him with a large kitchen knife and he dropped both rifles, instinctively bringing up his left arm trying to block her attack.

  The monster’s bride stabbed him deep in the forearm, the force of her blow knocking him to the ground. She went down with him, continuing to stab at the man who was still using his arm as a shield, keeping her blade from reaching something vital.

  During all this time his other hand was trying to find the pistol he knew was somewhere on his belt. He blindly groped for it while trying to hold the she demon off. She continued viciously slashing at his arm when finally he found the grip of his gun. Again he had no time for aiming. He pulled the pistol from its holster and just started firing. The crazed bride was still brutally stabbing him when at last his fourth shot found its way to her throat.

  She immediately dropped the knife, her hands clutching the wound, the blood quickly overflowing and spraying out. She stumbled backwards off of the man but somehow managed not to fall. She began to stagger around, the blood freely flowing and spurting, and now covering her neck, hands and chest. All this time the bride kept looking right at him and trying to say something through that bloody wet sound.

  The bride wobbled around for a short while longer, continuing to clutch at her throat and to make that awful bloody, gurgling sound. Then with no more warning, she collapsed backwards and landed lifeless flat on the ground.

  It was clear the bride wasn’t a danger to him now. He quickly exchanged his pistol’s magazine with a fresh one while checking to see where the other threats were. The man wouldn’t be caught off guard again. The monster wasn’t very far. He had freed his hand from the ground although the handle of the man’s blade still stuck out the back. Then he searched for the woman with the cart. She had attempted to get away during the fighting and had limped about thirty feet away.

  Crawling at him, the monster got the man’s attention again. “YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

  Now that the thing was talking suddenly the man had a purpose. He stepped on the monster’s wrist holding his hand down. Grabbing his knife he wrenched it out of the monster’s hand, the thing making an inhuman bellowing sound.

  The monster, with his one good hand, began fumbling for something in his back pocket but the man easily took it away from him before he could take aim. It was a cheap two shot .22 derringer; the man dropped it in his own back pocket.

  Then the man noticed the woman hobbling away. She had decided to abandon her cart. “STOP! Don’t move another inch!”

  The woman turned and only paused for a second, and then quickly limped on.

  “IF YOU TAKE ANOTHER STEP YOU’RE GOING TO DIE RIGHT THERE!” The man wasn’t really sure who was now speaking but was sure whoever
it was meant what they said.

  The woman froze, then clumsily turned to face the man.

  The monster began clawing at his feet, trying to wrap his arms around his legs, trying to bring the man down. “I’LL KILL YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

  He easily broke free from the thing’s grasp and the force now in control of the man’s body gave the monster a hard kick right in his teeth, his boot landing with a heartwarming crunch.

  The monster was knocked unconscious as he rolled on the ground.

  At first he thought to just shoot the thing, but noticing a large old ash about twenty feet behind him the man thought it was a good day for a hanging.

  The man was now walking quick and with a crystalline purpose, something unknown inside of him now in complete control. Taking both rifles he went directly to the abandoned wheelbarrow and flipped it over, dumping its entire contents on the ground.

  Searching through it the man found only one gun, a much abused bolt-action rifle that was unloaded. He removed the bolt and put it into his front pocket, then starting sifting through the rest of the filthy pile. He was seeking one particular item and soon found it, a good length of yellow rope.

  As he rummaged through the rest of their soiled possessions he found an odd assortment of items, including a set of clothes that looked like they belonged to a small boy. He also found some food and water and a few personal things. One curious object he quickly cast back was a cardboard sign with string attached. The sign was tattered and had obviously been used for some while. It reminded him of those he saw at the fair and in large letters it read “FOR SALE BY THE HOUR – MAKE OFFER.”

  But what caught his attention and got the man thinking, was a small but nearly full can of kerosene lying there at the bottom of the tangled mound. He set the rope and can to one side and as he did a wonderfully unpleasant thought came to his mind.

  He checked back on the monster still unconscious on the ground and then turned to the woman again. She was now trying to quietly back away, doing her best not to make a sound. The man walked right at the woman with resolve inside he wasn’t sure was his own. He stopped about fifteen feet from her and pulled his pistol again, the woman not taking her eyes off of it. He fired one shot into the air with an indifferent manner the man had never known before. Afterwards he spoke with a chillingly calm, and to him no longer recognizable voice. “I won’t tell you again. Move from that spot and see what happens.”