Timtown Read online

  “You’re not much on guts, are you, Timmy boy?” He turned to Cyclops. “Do you think it’s because his girl won’t give him any?”

  “Could be,” said Cyclops.

  Tony walked to the other side of the room, reached down and pulled one of the women up by the rope around her neck. She was just a girl. Her face was bruised, her hair dirty and matted, and her naked body covered with dirt. As Tim looked at her blank face, he gasped in horror. It was Ann! His mind reeled as he started to pick himself up, but Cyclops drove him back to the floor with his foot. Tony was holding Ann up with the rope around her neck, and Tim could see she was choking.

  Tony motioned to Cyclops. “Take Timmy’s pack off. I want him to be comfortable. He won’t learn anything if he can’t concentrate.”

  Cyclops pulled the pack off Tim’s back and shoved it at him roughly.

  “Hey, Timmy, you know I’m getting kind of tired of your girl. She just isn’t that much fun anymore. At first, she was pretty feisty, but she’s getting to be a bore. Hey, why don’t I fuck her like the dog she is?” Tony was laughing all through his comments.

  Tony beckoned to Cyclops, who took the rope around Ann’s neck and pulled her down. She sank to the ground, but Cyclops pulled her up, until she was on her hands and knees. Tony pulled at his pants until they came down, all the while tormenting Tim. “Hey, kid, this is the way it’s done. The only way to be a man is to make them kneel.”

  Both Tony and Cyclops howled with delight.

  Cyclops had his head thrown back and his mouth open with laughter when the bullet from Tim’s pistol struck his jaw, snapping his head around. The second bullet hit Tony in the back of the shoulder, knocking him forward. He shrieked with pain and surprise.

  Tim got up and stood over Tony, with the pistol pointed at his face. Tony was pleading, and Tim was about to pull the trigger, but something made him stop.

  I’m not a killer. Let someone else deal with him.

  He had to pick Ann up because she had remained kneeling during the gun shots. He looked into her eyes, but she didn’t seem to recognize him. For the second time since the disaster, he cried. His grief was cut short by the cries of the other hostages. He untied the remaining women. There were four of them, or rather three—one was just a girl, even younger than Ann. One of the women then turned to help the others.

  Tim took a shirt from his pack and stuffed it into the wound on Tony’s back. Tony was in a great deal of pain, and Tim was not the least bit gentle. The leadership quality had quickly disappeared from Tony, just like when Stan had kicked his ass.

  Two of the women approached Tony with vengeance on their minds. One of them picked up the shotgun and aimed it at Tony, but Tim intervened. Tony was grateful and didn’t hesitate to show it. Tim checked on the Cyclops, but there was no need because the first shot had killed him.

  Tony was crawling toward the door and trying to find some sympathy from anyone who would listen. Tim walked to the door to block his path.

  “Hey, Tim, god it hurts! Please help me. I didn’t mean it. You just don’t understand. Nobody’s ever liked me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please help me,” Tony blubbered.

  “You are a disgusting piece of shit, Tony. Now shut your goddamn mouth. I don’t want to hear any more out of you,” Tim snarled at him.

  “Please, Tim, you’ve got to help me!”

  The statement infuriated Tim. He felt his anger rising. “Shut the fuck up, Tony. I’m warning you,” he said, taking the pistol out of his pocket.

  “Somebody help me! I don’t want to die! Pleeaase!” howled Tony.

  “You’re a coward, Tony,” Tim said, as he raised the pistol and pointed it at him. “If I hear one more word out—”

  “Oh man, don’t kill me,” Tony sobbed. “Oh, please. You can’t do this, you can’t do this, please.” Tony’s voice trailed off as he looked at the pistol in Tim’s hand. He was begging silently, looking Tim straight in the eyes. “Don’t, don’t,” he sobbed quietly.

  “Shit, you’re not worth the bullet,” Tim said as he lowered the gun. “Just a piece of garbage.”

  Ann was still incoherent. Attempts by Tim and one of the women had no effect on her. The woman explained that Tony had unleashed his fury primarily on Ann. The two men had abused the other women, but Ann had been their main target. She introduced herself as Dr. Susan Whitcomb and said Ann’s horrors went even deeper. A young boy had been brought to the house with Ann. The woman was sure it was Ann’s brother, and the description she gave Tim confirmed it was Sammy. Tony and the Cyclops had killed the boy—in front of Ann—for fun.

  “She deserves justice,” said the woman. She took the shotgun and checked the chamber to see if it had a shell. Satisfied it would fire, she walked over to Ann. She pushed her up into a sitting position and placed the shotgun against her shoulder. The woman grasped Ann’s right hand and moved it up to the trigger guard. Helping Ann hold the gun, the woman then swiveled Ann around so the shotgun was pointed at Tony.

  Tony’s face went blank. The woman worked one of Ann’s fingers into the trigger guard and pulled. The blast in the small room was deafening. The woman and Ann were knocked backward, and Tony died.

  Tim cradled Ann, and after a few moments, she began to whimper. The whimper grew to a sob, then the sob to a body-racking cry. Her emotions spilled out, released by violence as harsh as the violence that had held her prisoner.

  One of the hostages returned with an Army patrol. It seemed that Tony’s reign of terror hadn’t gone unnoticed. The lieutenant in charge said there were numerous outlaw groups operating in the quake area. Considering the absence of any real law looting and crime were to be expected, but some of the atrocities committed were unimaginable.

  The lieutenant had radioed for air evacuation, and shortly they would be transported to an aid station.

  *

  Tim argued and pleaded with the soldiers to let him stay, but it seemed that a person of his age had no right to choose where he wanted to be. The young were considered helpless and therefore must be protected. That was the lieutenant’s explanation anyway.

  *

  Tim had no option but to run off. He ran about half a mile from the choppers. He had nothing to carry and soon outdistanced the two soldiers sent after him. They didn’t seem to have their hearts in the chase and soon gave up. Tim went a little farther and then sat down watching the choppers being loaded.

  After all the personnel and equipment were aboard and as the turbine engines wound up, Tim felt a terrible loneliness grip him.

  “I wonder if I’ll ever see Ann again?” he said softly.

  The engines were at full pitch when the lieutenant appeared at the door of the lead machine. He jumped to the ground and pulled Tim’s packs and a duffel bag with him. He carried the bags about thirty feet from the helo and laid them on the ground. He waved to Tim, then walked back to the helicopter and jumped in. The two ships lifted into the air in a cloud of dust.

  “Good luck to us both my friend,” Tim said quietly as he started toward his things. As he went to the packs he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do next. The lieutenant had called it straight when he said it was crazy to want to stay because there was nothing left there.

  Tim inspected his packs. Nothing was missing. Even the pistol was there. A small note said, “Take care, you fool!” The Army had donated a medical kit, a water purifying kit, and some rations. Tim sorted through the things and removed what he didn’t need to lighten his load.

  It’s funny, two days ago I was miserable because of Mom’s plight and Arty’s worsening health. At the time, I could not have imagined things could get any worse. What a surprise I’ve gotten! The world I’ve known is in shambles. My mother is gone, and Ann? It scares me to think about her and what she must have gone through. The brutality that’s been inflicted on her. The dead look in her eyes. I wonder if I’ve lost my best friend too.

  The soldiers had found some bodies a short distance from the bu
ilding at the commune. Ann’s mother and brother were among them. Tim was constantly fighting the rage that was smoldering inside. He was mad that Tony was dead because he wanted to punish him over and over. As intense as the hatred was Tim realized he needed to squash it. There were things he had to do and he would have time to think about the past later.

  It would be a long, difficult trip to the Walls and the sun would be setting soon so he decided to make his way back to his house. After his experience with Tony, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The world around him was hostile and dangerous, at best.

  Chapter 4

  The Fool

  Tim woke up as the first light of morning seeped into the house. He made breakfast over a small fire in the ruined fireplace, then set about preparing for the trip to the Walls. He still hadn’t explained to himself the reason for going there. It was like he was being compelled. He had first thought about going there after seeing the blue light the morning after the quake. Since then, It is just something I have to do. It’s that simple.

  He discarded all his clothes except for an extra pair of sneakers, an extra shirt, and a pair of pants because it never got cold this time of year. He packed a hunting knife, binoculars, camera, radio, medical kit, food and water. The pistol went into his pocket with the extra ammunition. This time he would take the pellet rifle because it was silent and powerful.

  “You see, Deputy, I’m learning,” he said as a tribute to the dog. Tim had searched for the body of the dog the night before, but it was gone.

  *

  Tim started toward the mountains. He had traveled two hundred yards up the cove from the edge of town when he stopped for a rest at the top of a tilted rock slab. His pack was heavy and the going was difficult. Before the quake, walking this area was easy. The once smooth riverbed was now a twisted, tangled mess. Pieces of bedrock thrust up at all angles. In some places he had to climb or descend twenty feet or more.

  As he sat quenching his thirst, he surveyed the town below with the binoculars. He was looking at the upper part of the town, and when he came to Ann’s house he stopped for a moment. It stood out because it was in better shape than the rest in the immediate area. How ironic! An earthquake wrecks everything in sight except your house, then a sicko like Tony spoils it by slaughtering your family. Tim had stopped at Ann’s house on the way up and found the bodies of her father and her other brother. He had to assume Tony was responsible.

  Tim’s hometown was nestled up in a cove with mountains on three sides. There were two roads in and out of town, and from where Tim sat he could see that fissures had severed both of them. Bulldozers were working on one of the roads and before long they would have it open. A large aid station had been set up past where any traffic could go, and many helicopters were busying back-and-forth.

  As he swung the binoculars back up the cove he surveyed the rest of the town. It looked like little piles of pickup sticks with burned out patches everywhere. At the end of town, closest to him, he spotted a group of people milling in and out of the crumpled homes. Tim moved the binoculars from person to person until he stopped on one particular man. The man was watching Tim with his own binoculars. Tim felt his blood go cold. Some of the people were armed, and others appeared to be guarded like hostages. Tim slid down from his exposed position to one that left only his head showing and continued watching the group. There was no doubt that three of the group were being forced about by a man and a woman with guns. The slaves were weighed down with booty the others were collecting from the deserted houses.

  The man with the binoculars motioned to one of his party who walked over to him. The first man traded his glasses for a rifle from the second man. The first man pointed the rifle up at Tim who immediately ducked down behind the rocks. A loud snap came from just above Tim’s head. It was a sonic boom from a bullet traveling far above the speed of sound. A second later he heard the boom from the rifle below.

  “I don’t believe this shit!” Tim yelled.

  He remained hidden for a few moments, but curiosity got the better of him. He slowly edged to the top of the rock to peer over. He was cautious as his eyes reached the top of the rock he was behind. He moved his head a little higher and looked over. Just as he visually located the shooter, another bullet struck the rock not more than two feet to the left of his face. He jumped reactively to the side and down.

  “You Son of a bitch!” Tim screamed at the top of his voice. “What are you trying to do, asshole?” He yelled so loud he hurt his throat.

  Snap! A third bullet passed over his head and Tim realized that swearing at this guy was going to serve no purpose. Either was sticking his head over the rocks again, especially in the same spot. He grabbed his stuff and moved to the left, protected from below by the rocks. After traveling for a few hundred feet he carefully selected a spot that seemed safe and searched for the people below. He couldn’t see a trace of anyone, but there were many places to get lost in the jumbled terrain.

  *

  Tim traveled for two more hours and made it to the bottom of the mountain where the river left the canyons above and began its gentler flow down the cove. Ahead and above the climb began. He found a comfortable spot that was concealed and searched for the madmen below. Again there was no sign of them so he hoped they had lost interest. Since the shooting incident he had been moving away from anything that might be valuable to these scavengers.

  After resting and eating, he was about to move when he thought he heard a voice. It seemed to have come from a fairly short distance, but with the terrain all tossed and tumbled it was hard to tell distance or direction. As he prepared to move again he heard the voice. This time he was sure. A moment later he heard some rocks falling and some swearing.

  Whoever it is, they are close. . .damn close.

  He pulled out the pellet rifle and the pistol, and pressed himself in between two rocks.

  Why did they follow me, or did they? It could just be a coincidence or maybe some other people. Maybe a friendly face. I could use a friend about now.

  From his hiding place in the rocks Tim watched and waited. Under no circumstances was he going to drop his guard. It was a damn good time to be cautious. Tony had caught him by surprise, but nobody else would because Tim prided himself with being fairly intelligent.

  A man appeared from between some rocks below about one hundred feet away. He was armed with an M-16. Tim recognized it immediately. The man was dressed in Army fatigues, but he didn’t look like a soldier because his hair was long and stringy, and he looked scummy. The man moved among the rocks, alternately looking down to the ground and then up and all around.

  The Son of a bitch is tracking me.

  Tim realized the man was following the trail he had so carelessly left and it would lead him right to the spot where he was hiding. Tim had to make a quick decision because he didn’t stand a chance if he waited too long. This man was definitely not a friend. He was too close for him to make a break because an M-16 is effective. To surrender was out of the question. This man had not followed him all this way just to say hello.

  Tim’s pellet rifle fired using compressed air. It had a hand pump and the more pumps you gave it the more powerful it became. He pumped it ten times—the maximum allowed according to the instructions—then gave it one more for good measure. Tim had put holes through both sides of a paint can with the gun so he was confident it would do some damage if he hit a good spot.

  The man was now fifty feet from Tim. Tim took aim, but hesitated. What if he missed? He had only one shot and then he would have to reload and re-pump the gun.

  That won’t work too well.

  The man had stopped climbing and was searching around. Tim felt for the pistol. He didn’t want to use it because it was far too loud, and he assumed the man had friends close by, but if he had to, he would. He continued to sight the man, but he just couldn’t shoot.

  What gives me the right? Maybe this guy isn’t here to harm me? I can’t shoot him without being sure.
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  The man turned toward Tim. Something was hanging from his belt. As the man came closer, Tim kept him in the sight of the rifle and alternately looked to the man’s belt. He couldn’t identify the articles hanging there, but they looked like a string of dried apricots.

  Apricots? It struck home immediately. No, they’re ears. The S.O.B. is collecting ears. That’s why he’s following me. He wants my ears.

  Tim took careful aim. He had no choice now. He fired the pellet rifle and quickly grabbed for the pistol, but in his haste he lost his footing on the rocks and slid down a bit, losing sight of his target.

  Oh shit, he thought, as he lay there motionless. He wasn’t sure if he had hit the guy. Terror gripped him. At any moment the M-16 could come pointing over the rocks, and he would be done for. He pointed the pistol out in front of himself and waited. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

  A minute passed and nothing happened. It was the hardest thing he had ever done—to sit and wait. The decision to move was no easier. He was so scared he couldn’t breathe. He moved to the side and up. He wasn’t going to appear exactly where he had been before. He was learning.

  He found two large rocks that were leaning together, but had a small opening in between them. He looked through the opening, cautiously. He had to move slightly to the side to finally see the man. He was in the same spot as when Tim had fired at him, but was on his knees holding his throat with both hands. Blood oozed out between his fingers. The M-16 lay on the ground ten feet in front of him.

  Tim scrambled around the rocks and approached the man. He held the pistol out in front, pointed at the center of the man’s body. Without taking his eyes off him, Tim crouched down and retrieved the M-16.

  There was pain in the man’s eyes. He worked his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim felt shame for doing this, but he realized he didn’t have any other choice. His mind flashed back to Cyclops, the first man he had killed, and to Tony, who he had seriously wounded. He felt anguish. I have no right to hurt people this way. How can I live with this blood on my hands?

  He was about to put the pistol down when his eyes dropped to the man’s belt. There were at least twenty ears hanging there. This man was a monster, the Cyclops had been a monster, and Tony had been a monster. He knew he had shot these men because he wanted to live and they had wanted to kill him. It was that simple. It is my right as a survivor to do what I must to stay alive.