The News Silenced Across the World

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Timm finds that in the current world, no where is safe, no matter the time.

Chapter 5 (v.1) - A Den of Thieves

Submitted: September 02, 2019

Reads: 10

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Submitted: September 02, 2019



Not a creature was in motion, and not even a snore could be heard through the residential section of the church. Of course, the daylight, outside, marked active hours on the clock.  With an alarm clock setup in the bedroom reading 5:00 pm, one would expect rush hour traffic to be clogging up the streets. Some of those drivers might return for a nap, but they would be active enough to have a plan obtaining dinner within the hour.

However, this evening wasn’t very active for Timm Mayrose. Restricting his food consumption left Timm drained of energy during the day. Then his air conditioning shut off hours quarter past three. Timm didn’t think about it at the time, having all his lights off already, but the whole church was without power. The building became warmer, and the desire for sleep flipped on a switch that sent him zombie-walking to bed.

Not a single snore escaped Timm’s mouth once he went down. His sleep endured like a phone endures a charge after the battery is dead. An observer could easily think the phone charger dead because the phone doesn’t have enough juice to post the battery level before it begins charging. In this state, every movement of Timm’s body was minimal. His chest rose and fell like sand eroding from a beach. The rest of his body was still as a stiff. Any thoughts of dinner, he had, drifted out of his mind. When five o’clock finally came, he looked to be a man who had thrown in the towel to sleep another eight hours.

He probably would have too, but a wakeup call came at six in the form of a generator cranking to life. 6:00 read Timm’s alarm clock as his eyes opened begging for either silence or coffee. After a minute of crossing fingers for the first option to answer his wish, the need for coffee subsided and he got up to investigate instead. Timm noticed air conditioning working again when his shirt became chilly against his skin. Sweat had covered him while he slept and now he felt light-headed. Changing clothes, Timm decided to investigate the kitchen first and get himself a glass of water while he was at it.

His eye’s fluttered on the way, distracting Timm from noticing that the kitchen lights were already on. He swiftly stepped through the doorway, grabbed a clean glass, and started the filling his cup from the sink when he noticed the other person in the room.

First came a gulp as a low viscosity fluid drained into the man’s throat. Then the man spoke, “Timm what ya do da –wineee!!!” These words were marked with a hint of disdain that blended with the alcohol scented stench of his clothes. “All I…” He blinked, puzzled for a moment. “All I found isss…da sacrament stuff…”

Power generator mystery solved.

Father Duke!” Scolding him, Timm dropped his glass in the sink. It cracked under the weight of the added water, but, as the glass wobbled around, no water leaked from it.

Duke Hikaru, the priest of St. Thomas Moore’s parish which stood deep in the down town area, had been rumored to have a lavish lifestyle for quite some time. This had earned him the nickname of “St. Thomas Moore’s Pharisee” by his peers, but Duke had a powerful presence that resonated with his parishioners.

“Hand that over!” Timm moved to snatch away the glass cruet holding the wine as Duke looked to take another swig. Timm’s hand touched the glass and then it was swatted away in a single motion that concluded with the glass container slamming against Timm’s head. The blow, shattering the cruet and releasing its contents, knocked him to the ground. Timm’s lightheadedness soon grew into an aching dizziness.

Nooo…” Duke’s precious wine stained the back of Timm’s shirt and various sections of his pants that contacted the puddle, now running along the floor.

Timm moaned.

Duke knelt down, trying to scoop the wine up with his hands. The motion drew blood as glass fragments cut his skin. He felt a sharp pain, and then his hands retreated to his forehead. “Look—you ma’e me dooo…”

Head rocking back and forth, Duke stood up to continue his search. He left every cabinet drawer and door, that he touched, wide open. Then his eyes lit up with a new idea. “Gottah try da tabernacle…”

“Rotten excuse of a priest!” Timm spat out as he massaged his head. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps carrying Duke outside the room. Meanwhile, Timm tried to push himself up off the floor. He got up to his knees, and then he lifted one up when all color left his vision. His eyes bobbled around detecting nothing but copy-paper white light flowing at him. Timm stretched his arms in front of him and caught hold of a counter top. He pulled himself up to it and leaned his upper torso over the cool wood surface.

Out the door leading to the altar, Duke’s loud fumbling with his keys carried down to Timm’s ears. Suddenly, something louder overpowered it. This louder sound came from the back of the church. BOOM! A pair of French doors clattered against the floor, and more visitors entered the church.

Timm bobbed his hands around the counter until they banged against the sink. He jammed a finger a little harder than he intended and winched at the pain. Then he turned the water on and gradually moved his face toward it. First, Timm wet his lips, gradually taking in some of the water. It barely quenched his thirst before he moved his head to have the water run over where Duke had struck him earlier.

“What you got to offer you fat bastard?” asked a man with a deep, eerie voice.

Duke couldn’t find the words he needed in the presence of this frightening stranger.

“A regular talkative Nancy, ain’t he?” came a younger man’s voice. Or more of a boy’s voice—sixteen… The boy swung what, Timm would later come to find out. was an axe. The outdoor tool, turned weapon, hit its mark.

Duke collapsed to the floor howling like a mad man.

“Disgusting,” commented a woman. “I thought you could cut through a limb with a single swing…”

“Well, he ain’t solid like a tree…” replied the boy.

Timm gradually moved his head back, getting himself a mouthful of water in the process. His vision started to come back as he gulped it down.

“Ok old man, speak my language,” the man prodded Duke with his foot. “This wealthy church of yours have anything special behind door number one?” His voice seemed to point in Timm’s direction as the man continued to speak. “Must be some sort of booze the way he wears it like a cologne…”

Timm trembled in anticipation. He knew that he needed to do something, but life was progressing faster than he was accustomed to. Meanwhile the footsteps brought the intruders closer. Turning around, Timm found a closet. He rush to open it and then a Styrofoam box with a target rolled out of messily stuffed space.

The intruders were at the door.

Timm grabbed the target as if it might shield from danger, and then he stepped on top of sleeping bags and various camping gear. Of course, the only thing it might save him from would be arrows, as it was designed for just that purpose. Suddenly, the door to the altar area creaked open and Timm shuttered at the sound.

Doctor!” cried Duke. “Som’n fix me!”

The door paused as the deepest voice spoke. “Rosie, will you put the man out of his misery? I’m mighty tired of that voice of his.”

Timm reached a hand from under the target, and pulled the door shut just before the other two intruders entered the kitchen area. The last thing Timm saw, before the closet trapped him inside total darkness, were the holes running through the bull’s eye section of the target. His eyes clamped shut at the thought of it.

KAPOW! The gunshot echoed throughout the whole church.

Timm laid down the target as he began to feel around for other things that could be of use to him. A tent bad didn’t excite him too much. Quality stakes might have been worth it if he didn’t have to unzip the bag that carried everything. Zippers aren’t quiet. Then there were the sleeping bags. Perhaps he could hide with one covering him, but that wouldn’t help much. Anyone that opened the door would likely think such sleeping gear, standing tall like a tree trunk, odd. Only one thing came to mind as being of use to him in that closet, but: could he find it?

“Look’s like he’s picked this place clean to the bone,” commented the axe carrier.

The deeper voice chuckled. “Or maybe he got started else where and now he can’t remember where he keeps it at home… Let’s check in that closet over there.”

The shuffling of shoes drew closer. Timm finally felt what he was looking for pushed up against a corner of the closet. Seconds later, the door pulled open. “Looks like we got some…” started the youngest of the crew.

Timm didn’t even open his eyes before he took action. He had an arrow knocked back on his bow. Pulling the string back, took the entire width of the closest. Then his ears guided him to his target. What came next, Timm expected to be too much for his eyes to see.

The arrow flew through the axe boy’s mouth and found the deep voiced intruder behind him, taking the second man’s eye. The boy, in front, squealed at the pain, but the thought of a whole clean through the back of his head seemed to worry him more. Timm opened his eyes to find those terror filled eyes looking back at him. Backing up in shock, the two injured intruders tripped over each other and collapsed against the floor.

Standing still, Timm dropped the bow. His eyes tracked the source of newfound guilt.

The last of the intruders didn’t care about his remorse. She raised her pistol without another thought and emptied her clip. One bullet struck Timm in the chest. Another caught him in the shoulder. The first two bullets through him into the wall, and then he fell to floor before the last shot was fired.


© Copyright 2019 Forrest Obzerveer. All rights reserved.


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