Timothy 02: Tim2 (22 page)

Although, I did have a moment of humor when I thought about a zombie Kobiyashi with a pallet full of humans as he devoured them in record time. I’d pay to see that. I meandered for well on three or four hours, if the movement of the sun was any indication. And I had to pat myself on the back when I realized I was exiting the woods not more than a tenth of a mile or so from where I had entered. I was happy in the thought of getting back into my ride and on to my reunion.

“What do we have here?” I asked the day as I came out into the clear and was now looking at the turned over truck.

I stopped and watched as a big man dressed in typical lumberjack attire was either looking for supplies to steal or admiring my handiwork. I could hear him yelling clear as a bell from where I stood. I would have gone up and introduced myself if not for the hunting rifle in his hand. I wasn’t pleased at all with the scope he had mounted on it either. The man turned away from the truck, looked up towards the heavens and then down to the ground. He followed something to the edge of the road and then even went a few more yards more or less, following the trail Ned and I had made.

Woodsman?
I thought. His clothes certainly lent credence to that. For maybe the first time since I’d been on this adventure, I felt exposed. The man whistled; I watched as a large hound jumped down from a pick-up truck I had not noticed before. The man also signaled back to the truck. Two more men came out, each a bit smaller than the original man, but by ounces.

“Well ain’t this a pickle,” I said.

I really wanted to blend into the background. But that was really tough to do as a six foot three inch man clad in a clown suit covered with blood, gore, and an alternate face. At least I could rest assured that he would not be able to see my altered teeth. I thought about turning and heading back in to the woods, but at this point I was fairly confident that any movement on my part would get noticed. And like a sixth sense, the man’s head shot up and he was looking right at me.

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.

I put my hands up, somewhat to tell him I wasn’t a threat and somewhat to shield my face from his high-powered scope as he put the optics up to his eye.

“Did you see what happened here? Where’s the other boy?”

I started backing up.

“Don’t you move!” he shouted.

“Fuck this.” I turned and ran.

A shot blistered through the air sending up bits of dirt from next to my feet.
Warning shot
, I thought as I kept going. Son of a bitch, if I had been ten minutes later getting out of the woods I would have missed him completely, probably would have never even known they were looking for me or Dead Ned. The next round spun me down as it slammed into the right side of my back. I could feel the broken ribs shifting as I stood and started to run again.

“I shot him,” the man was telling his passengers.

“Want me to kill him, got a head shot all lined up.”

“No, he’s got some explaining to do,” the original man said.

“Shuffling like a zombie, what’s he going to tell you?”

“Ever seen a zombie run from a meal?” the first man asked.

“I reckon you’re right, I’d still rather drill the fucker than go chasing him.”

“It’ll be fun. Let’s get some more equipment.”

I was back into the woods a good twenty feet, enough to be hidden, but not enough that I couldn’t see the men. They were returning to the truck; I hoped that they were leaving. And I even thought that might be the case, that maybe the first man thought better of chasing a bloody clown into the woods (dual meaning if you say that last sentence in a proper British accent, it becomes more of an expletive). I held onto that thought right up until the driver pulled a chainsaw out of the bed of his truck. It didn’t seem all that intimidating until he started it up. He lifted it up over his head and revved it a few times. If I hadn’t already crapped out the trio of would-be pirates, I just might have soiled my pants.

“Coming for you clown!” he shouted between revs. “Go, Bowser,” he said to his dog. The dog started barking wildly and was making a direct line for my present location.

“This cannot be fucking happening, I’m the damn king of the hill,” I said even as I stood and began to move deeper into the cover. The barking was growing closer as was the engine noise of the chainsaw.
Fucking wonderful
, I thought as I was flat out running,
I piss off a Kenyan lumberjack, what are the odds?

Hugh was busy doing his best to mend my wound, but my constant motion was frustrating to him. “Stay, heal, eat.” His words of wisdom
were about as useful as a football at a Star Trek convention. (It’ll come, think about it for a second.)

“Hugh, this is one time we can’t stay, those men will kill us.”

“Men are food.”

“Most times, buddy, not this one though.”

The dog was close and I turned to confront him. He stopped about ten feet shy of me and just kept barking. I lost precious moments wondering what he was doing. Then I figured it out; he wasn’t an attack dog, he was merely marking my location until the cavalry came in.

“Shit.” I was going to let him come in, maybe get a bite or two on me and then snap his neck, and then I was going to return the biting favor – probably in spades. I didn’t want to shoot him because it would give that element of surprise away but there was no way I was going to be able to elude my furry tail. The dog stopped barking as it stared down the barrel of my revolver. I can imagine it wasn’t so used to this end of the dirty stick. I was going to take its head off and then I had a better idea. I shot him low in the leg, close to his paw. He whined and fell over. His pitiful requests for help were giving me a headache.

I moved in closer and was going to finish the job by eating his lungs out when I heard the rapidly approaching chainsaw. The man seemed to have another gear.

“Dammit,” I said as I looked up and turned, running in the direction I had been going.

I could only hope the dog was a beloved family pet and that they would take the time to bring him out and get him help, thus allowing me time to get away. A gunshot let me know in no uncertain terms where the dog stood. The hunt continued; at best I had only bought myself a minute. Had I known they were going to put him down, I would have taken a few bites.

I only needed a few short hours to elude them and then the tide would turn back to my advantage as the night took hold. “A few short hours,” I echoed as a branch tore at my pants.

This wasn’t good; I was leaving markers every so often, almost like a damned survey team. I could only hope Chainsaw man thought this was TOO easy, and maybe slow up thinking I was laying a trap. 

“Hey, you run pretty good for a fat boy!” his voice sounded out, in the woods it was difficult to tell from which angle.

I was thinking I could say the same to him considering he wasn’t so svelte his damn-self.

“Clown, I’m going to carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey. That was my best dog you killed!”

Well, technically you killed him, and why are you more upset about the dog then those people?
I kept my thoughts to myself.

“He’s close, Olaf.”

The words shook me. I heard them in a conversational tone. Even with my zombified hearing, they were close. And to be honest, the name Olaf wasn’t sitting well either. The only Olafs I’d ever heard of were Vikings, and who the hell wants to fight a Viking?

“Fan out, ten yards no more, we stay in sight all the time,” Olaf told him.

The chainsaw was in a low idle; it still sounded menacing enough though. The sun was on the decline, but my allotted time was slipping faster. I had to move. My ribs were nearly healed and unfortunately Hugh had to do his repair job while we were on the move. The bones were sticking out grotesquely on that side enough so that it appeared like I was making shelving for a personal pantry. Great idea in concept.

How ironic would it be if I found an old farm house to seek shelter in while the humans tried to kill me? It may have sounded humorous if I wasn’t fighting for my life. The only benefit I had from them splitting up was that they were advancing slower. They weren’t making up chunks of ground anymore. We were pretty much staying even with each other – this favored me as well. If my left ankle still worked properly, I could have actually pulled away. Every step I took put one more grain of sand on my side of the scale and took one from theirs. They’d pay for putting me through this, for making me feel weak…yes, they’d pay. I just had to figure out how to collect on the debt.

“Olaf, Olaf,” the man repeated.

“What?” he asked over the buzz of his saw.

“We’re losing light. These woods are going to be pitch black soon.”

“That’s why we brought flashlights,” Olaf responded.

“Shit,” I said softly, hadn’t thought about that; at least they weren’t those damned night vision goggles.

“He’s not going to be able to move in the dark without giving himself away. Let’s build a fire and we’ll go after him first thing in the morning.”

“He’s close, Sven, I can just about smell him.”

Are you fucking kidding me? I’m being chased by the Swedish Marines
.

“We start a fire, eat a little food, post a guard…and then kill him.”

“Not before I take my measure from him,” Olaf said angrily.

“Of course,” Sven responded.

I ducked down quickly. It was a ruse. While I was listening to the two men discuss their plans the third had snuck up on me. The distinct clicking of a hammer being pulled back and the cold steel of a rifle against my temple the first and only clues I needed to realize I’d been caught.

“Don’t move…don’t even raise your hands. I’d shoot you now and be done with it but Olaf wants to
talk
,” he said gibingly. “Got him!” the man shouted, never taking his eyes from me or his finger off the trigger.

I heard the other two men making their way quickly through the brush. I felt a flood of adrenaline as Hugh and I weighed our options. Well…while I weighed our options, Hugh kept gnashing his teeth, which wasn’t going to do us any favors.

Hugh, I’m going to need our mouth back if you want any hope of me getting us out of this mess
.

“Wow, I knew you were ugly, but I had no idea,” Olaf said as he got close, though, I noticed not too close. “What’s the matter with your mouth?”

“Man asked you a question,” the one with the gun said, pushing my head with the barrel.

I wrested control from Hugh. “Sorry, it does that when I’m nervous.”

The barrel from the gun moved from my head as the man to my side was surprised.

“It fucking talked,” he said, obviously shocked.

“Please,” I stood, “I don’t know what happened to your friends.” I raised my hands over my head.

“Jürgen, grab the gun,” Olaf told the man that had caught me.

“Olaf, I don’t know what this thing is, but it isn’t human. Look at its face. Let’s just kill it,” Sven said, standing to the right and back a bit from Olaf.

Jürgen wrenched the gun from my hand.

“Why’d you run?” Olaf asked me.

“That seems to be the norm these days. Three armed men--I was attempting to preserve my life,” I told him, trying to keep my mouth as small as possible.

“What’s with the clown get up?” he asked.

“I was caught at a kids party when it turned to shit and I haven’t had a chance to change.”

“Parents hire you? How pissed off at their kids are they? Fuck, man, I’ve been to war and I haven’t seen anything that scares me as much as you,” he added. No one laughed at his quip; to say it was a tense moment was a vast understatement.

“I was in a car accident, burned really badly. The clown make-up usually hides most of the damage.”

“Doubtful,” he said, shining a brilliant beam of a flashlight into my face.

“For the love of God, Olaf, turn off the light. He’s hideous,” Sven said. Jürgen backed up another step when he got a clearer picture.

“In a sec. Open your mouth, freak.”

I pretended not to hear his request as I looked around.

The revving of the chainsaw brought my attention back. “Pull your motherfucking lips back or I’m going to severe that ugly head of yours from your starchy body.

Nothing in his words led me to believe it to be an idle threat. I did as he said. “Sweet mother of mercy,” He intoned. “What are you?”

“Please I’m just trying to survive like you are.”

“I don’t believe that for one second. Got an alternate explanation?”

“They attacked me first…I ended it.” My options were limited so I went with the blunt approach.

“I fucking told Jordie that raiding bullshit was going to get him killed. Idiot brother of mine wouldn’t listen. Said it was easier to take from others than trying to scavenge. He always was a dumb shit, but I loved my nephews.” He took a hand off the chain guard and wiped it across his face. “We were supposed to meet up this morning, when he didn’t show, I figured the worst. And still that didn’t touch on what I did come across.”