Timtown



  Timtown

  Copyright 1991 Ron Zastre

  Timtown

  Foreword

  Man has a long and exciting history, but in relation to the span of time it is miniscule. The future holds all the possibilities for our species. Today, we are on the verge of the greatest exploration ever undertaken by our civilization. We have left the bounds of our planet to begin the search of the stars.

  Scattered among the galaxies are trillions of suns like ours. A fair percentage would likely have Earth like planets revolving about them. The miracle of intelligent life on Earth most certainly cannot be a single incident. To believe that we are unique is just a grand ego-trip.

  Now, imagine a sun like ours, born a million years before ours was. Now, look at our progress in space already. In another two hundred years we will have reached all the planets in our own solar system, and in a thousand we will be headed to the stars. In a mere five thousand we will be deep into the cosmos. What will our potential for travel be, in say twenty, thirty-thousand years? Remember that sun that is a million years older than ours. What then if it has a planet just like Earth revolving around it?

  A few years ago, writers used alien beings and or settings from Mars, Venus, etc., to create their fantasies. Our technology has advanced to the point where we have taken a close look at these neighbors, and the possibility of intelligent life there is diminishing. Now we realize that our ability to go beyond these close planets is possible. Just because we don’t find what we are looking for over the first hill means nothing. Once we crossed that first hill, we then knew we could cross others. It’s just a matter of searching all the hills.

  It’s great to be alive in this fantastic age of accelerated learning, but our lives are too short. I wish to be around when we do travel to the stars, but it is not possible so I will have to be content to imagine such adventures.

  Timtown

  Introduction

  In a high planetary orbit, the deep space probe makes its final calculations that will take it and its cargo away from the blue green planet.

  Its cargo is a product of both the planet below and the technology that created the probe.

  The time is short, in seconds the engines will start and the probe will leave the planet’s fringes and head into the vastness of space on its mission.

  The mission is the cargo. The cargo is the probe’s only occupant. The occupant is a terrible mistake, he does not belong and he must go.

  The probe will use a simple ion propulsion system to move it a safe distance from the inhabited planet. When it is far enough away to insure that no damage will occur to the planet’s fragile ecosystem, the warp drive will engage and within two minutes the probe will be out racing light itself. It will continue to accelerate to many times the speed of light, and will travel for many centuries before it will allow the occupant to assume control. Records of its course, speed, and departure will not be recorded in its memory banks so it will never be able to return to the planet again. Thus the planet will never have to fear the occupant again.

  Chapter 1

  Still a kid

  The Quad-racer whistled down the dry, rock-strewn riverbed, the young rider expertly directing the machine between the many rocks and scattered bushes. The high-pitched buzz of the engine echoed off the tall, rocky hills and cliffs that dictated the path the river must follow. The machine had been a Christmas present for Tim Randell. Since then, he had been able to spend extended periods of time exploring the mountains he was now leaving behind. He never got tired of exploring the barren, rocky canyons and the hard-to-climb peaks. They held a strange attraction for him. Old Indian legends told of some ancient taboos concerning this part of the range, but over the years even the Indians had forgotten the reasons for their superstitions.

  *

  As the bike brought him closer to town, his mood slowly darkened. He wondered if all fifteen-year-olds hated to go home. He flashed back to the wonderful days when his family had been together and happy.

  I’ll never forget the days in Wisconsin, he thought, when Mom and Dad were together, and my big brother Arty was a healthy, fun-loving guy. Arty, how proud I was of him, tall and strong in his uniform. I used to brag about him constantly. Arty was going to fly to glory, driving the enemy into submission with his screaming jet fighter, but now he’s lying in a VA hospital, kept alive by machines.

  The setting sun started to touch the mountains out to the West as he raced from the desert into town. It’s going to be a great evening. Spring is making the nights warm again. He hit the first street, accelerated the Quad full out.

  Tim braked the four-wheeler hard, barking the tires as he reached his driveway. He made a tight, sliding, ninety-degree turn, pulled a wheelie, and stopped inches from his garage door. Satisfied, he opened the door and parked his four-wheeler inside, but hesitated entering the house. He knew it would be no different in there than it had been for some time now. His mother would be lying on the couch in an alcoholic stupor. He walked back to the open door and stood watching the sky change colors to the West, as the sun moved farther and farther below the mountains.

  He spotted a girl, a couple of blocks away, walking up the street toward him. It was his best friend, Ann. She was a couple of months younger than him, tall and gangly, with pretty green eyes and medium-length blond hair. Tim’s mom said she would be a real beauty someday. Tim waved to her and waited.

  Tim liked Ann. She was the first friend he made when they moved to Mountain Cove. It was a pleasure to have her as a companion. She was someone who loved to explore like he did. Someone who was a day dreamer like he was. Someone he could always talk to, about anything, whether they agreed or not and laughter was always possible between them.

  “Hey, darling,” Tim called, as she approached the end of his driveway.

  “How was the trip?” Ann asked as she walked toward him.

  “Great. I went all the way up the East Branch and then over to Salt Valley. Part of me felt like I wanted to just keep on going.”

  “That wouldn’t solve anything, would it?” Ann said.

  “Hell, I don’t know. I can’t see how I can do any good here.”

  “Come on Tim, your mother needs you. There’s no one else she can count on. You know that,” Ann said as she headed into the garage.

  “Count on me for what? Shit, I doubt if she even knows who I am anymore.” Tim started into the house opening the door to the kitchen for Ann.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s just really hard for her that Arty might be dying. She went through a lot for you guys.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I wish that damn doctor would have just kept his mouth shut and—”

  “And what?” Ann exclaimed, interrupting. “Oh, by the way Mrs. Randell, Arty died a while back, but I thought it would be best if I didn’t say anything to upset you.”

  “Okay, okay, I get your point. It’s just Mom wasn’t doing too bad until he called and warned us what to expect.”

  “I take it she isn’t any better then?” Ann said as they went into the kitchen.

  “Look for yourself,” he said and headed for his bedroom.

  *

  He stood looking in the mirror. He was trying to formulate the problem he was facing and sometimes looking at himself in the mirror made him think better. For a moment, he scrutinized his features. He had light brown, thick hair. His light brown eyes were okay, but he didn’t have dark, full eyelashes like Ann. He watched his nose as he rotated his head. It wasn’t too big, just sharp. His mouth was kind of thin, but he had a great smile and a strong chin. Generally, his features and that he was six feet tall and fairly muscular were all satisfactory to him. He was a guy so he didn’t have to be too particular. Anyway, that’s what Ann was always telling him. Despite how close t
hey were, he still didn’t really trust her at times. She might be putting him on or she might not.

  “Did you notice the dogs barking?” Ann asked, walking in.

  “What dogs? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know, I was just wondering. My brother’s dog has been yapping all day, and my dad is getting pissed. Brillo Pad has been acting up too, prancing around, pawing the ground like crazy. I called the vet and he said not to worry. If she was sick, she wouldn’t be so hyped up, she’d be laying down.”

  “Your horse has always been tough to handle. That’s why I gave her the name.”

  “And she thanks you, I’m sure. What’s weird, though, is the vet has had a lot of calls today. Everyone’s animals are spooked, but he can’t think of anything that would cause it.”

  “They’ve spent too much time around people, and they’re finally cracking,” Tim said.

  “Oh, ha ha, and how long are you going to continue to admire yourself? I’m sick of looking at you already. I think I’ll cook something and see if your mom will eat.”

  “Yeah, go ahead. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but you’re welcome to try.”

  Tim picked up the picture of Arty he kept on his dresser. It was taken just after his brother left flight school. Arty was handsome, his features smooth and rounded, whereas Tim’s were sharper. Arty was, at the time, about the same height Tim was now, but a few pounds heavier. That was the strange part. The last time Tim had seen his big brother—before the crash—Arty towered over him. Tim was only nine and Arty was already full-grown. After that, as Tim grew, Arty was mostly flat on his back. For a while Arty was able to sit in a wheelchair, but even then his withered body needed to be strapped in and it gave him the appearance of an elf. The last four or five years, Tim could easily pick him up and carry him.

  After they moved to California things got better for a while. Arty came to live with them, accepting his situation with grace and dignity. It was a full-time job for his mother, but Arty made it worth it. He was cheerful and his voice was loving and reassuring. He had learned to make the most of his situation. His useless body didn’t interfere with his brilliant mind, but eventually it started to weaken and a year ago Arty had to return to the hospital. Now he was staying alive only with mechanical assistance and that would soon end according to the doctors.

  Tim decided to quit torturing himself. He put the picture down and headed for the shower. When he stepped back out of his bathroom, Ann was just returning to the bedroom.

  “I got her to eat a tiny bit, but that’s about it. She’s really out of it, Tim. You’ve got to do something.”

  “What? You give me a good suggestion and I’ll hop right to it. Believe me, I will.”

  “I don’t know, but there has to be some relatives, somebody.”

  “Mom’s family is all dead, and I have no idea where Dad or anybody from his side is.”

  “You never told me why he ran out on you guys.”

  “I don’t remember too much. I was really young when Arty left. I know my dad was really proud of Arty, and I guess a little jealous.”

  “Why was he jealous?”

  “Oh, that was something my mother used to kid him about. I guess he was a pilot and flew a bomber. It flew really slow compared to Arty’s jet. Anyway, one thing I do remember was Dad telling Mom not to worry because the U.S. Navy was so powerful that nothing would happen to Arty. She was really worried when Arty left, but my dad just kept guaranteeing her he would come back okay.

  “I sure remember the day the two men in uniforms came though, it was horrible. My dad wasn’t at home, and my mom wouldn’t go to the door, so I had to. They said that they had a message from Arty so I didn’t think anything was wrong. Those poor guys, they had to go into my mother’s bedroom. She was sitting in the corner, frozen stiff, crying. I didn’t know why she was so scared, but she knew something was wrong. At first I didn’t know what was happening, but the way my mother was acting, it made me get scared. When my father came home he told me Arty’s plane had been shot down and Arty was hurt really bad. My mom was screaming at him, saying it was his fault for letting Arty go in the first place. He left the house and came back a couple of times that evening, but she kept screaming at him. When I got up the next morning, he was gone. That’s the last time I ever saw him.”

  “It sounds like your mom kind of overreacted.”

  “I guess, but I still think he shouldn’t have just run away. We needed him more than ever and he just took off. It was too much for Mom to handle all by herself. Look what’s happened to her. My mom’s tried so hard. You know the double shock of Arty and then Dad was really tough on her in the beginning, but she took it in stride and was there for Arty and me. When Arty was living with us she was happy. You remember that?”

  “Oh, yeah, your mom’s sweet. She’s so much stronger than mine. She’d never let my dad push her around like my mom does.”

  “I knew she was lonely though,” said Tim. “I used to hear her crying at night sometimes, but she always toughed it out. It’s just since Arty had to go back that she’s been acting this way. I always figured she’d be okay, she’d snap out of it, but since the doctor told her that Arty was slipping away, I don’t think she cares anymore.”

  “Well, tomorrow we’ll do something!” stated Ann.

  “Yeah, tomorrow’s always a better day, isn’t it?” Tim sneered.

  “Hey! Look, jerk, tomorrow is the day we have to do something, otherwise you’re going to lose her.”

  “I still have no idea what we can do though,” Tim said in anguish.

  “I don’t know either, but we will get some help for her.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but let’s get going. I don’t want to think about this anymore today, okay?” Tim said.

  As they were leaving the room he glanced over to his desk. Tears came to his eyes.

  “Why the hell do I keep that damn thing?”

  “What thing?”

  “That thing, the reminder.” Tim pointed at the model of the F-14 Tomcat his father built when Arty was on the carrier. So many times Tim had wanted to smash it, but it remained on his desk undamaged.

  “Why the hell hadn’t Arty’s F-14 been so tough?” Tim asked as he turned and walked out of the room.

  *

  Tim and Ann had made plans to meet some friends farther down in the cove. On the two-mile trip down the hill they continually commented on the fact that all the dogs in town were barking.

  When they arrived at their destination, one of their friends, Paul was struggling with his German shepherd. The dog was pulling on its leash to the point of choking itself and no amount of action from Paul could calm it.

  “Paul!” shouted Tim. “Can’t you keep that dog quiet? He’s got all the others going nuts.”

  “He must smell poon-tang and wants to get loose,” replied Paul.

  “I hope he can handle it by instinct. If he needs your advice, he’ll get no sat—is—fac—tion!” Tim said, mimicking The Rolling Stones.

  “I get no rest, man, no rest at all,” Paul shot back.

  “You get nowhere is what I hear,” giggled Ann. “Man, what is with the goddamn dogs?”

  “Got me,” Tim said. “Maybe the coyotes are around tonight? They like to upset the peace and tranquility every chance they get.”

  *

  Tim and Ann crossed the street to the park to get away from the commotion that started when Paul’s dog attacked a girl’s dog.

  “Until tonight that shepherd was the friendliest of dogs,” Tim said to Ann as they sat on one of the park tables.

  “I saw the Deputy today,” Tim commented.

  “Where? It’s been a while since he’s been around,” Ann replied.

  “Coming out of the Walls.”

  Ann shuddered. “It figures that creepy dog would be in that creepy place.”

  “Just because your horse won’t go in there doesn’t make it creepy.”

  �
��Hey, Brillo is still better than Mechanimal.

  Mechanimal was the term she used for Tim’s Quad-racer. Their argument was as follows: the horse didn’t break down, but the Quad-racer didn’t poop all over, gas was cheaper than hay and the machine was faster, but the horse could go more places, et cetera.

  “Yeah, but that horse hates me,” declared Tim.

  “Yeah, well, you don’t complain too much when you climb on behind me because the bike can’t go any farther,” Ann finally added.

  “But the stupid horse wouldn’t go into the Walls,” countered Tim.

  “Stupid? My dear, she’s just smart,” Ann said. “That place is spooky, even the dogs don’t like it in there, except for weirdo Deputy that is.”

  The Walls, as Tim had named the place was a deep canyon cut down through the lower mountains by running water. Heavy rains would soak the mountains above and as the water poured down on its way to the valley below it cut through a ridge, sculpting the Walls. They rose vertically to a hundred feet in some places. The bottom had small pools full of sand and many rock waterfalls that the moving water had shaped over hundreds of thousands of years. The canyon was dry most of the time, but during periods of rain it would fill with rushing water. It was about two miles up the riverbed from the town. It was a cool, quiet, beautiful place. Large pieces of the rock walls had split and fallen making the terrain jumbled and chaotic for its entire three hundred yard length. From the pools you had to look straight up to see the sky.

  Tim would've spend more time there, but the animals made such a fuss about going into the canyon it made Ann nervous. Tim had to admit that he had been slightly apprehensive once or twice. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had the feeling the rocks were listening to him.

  Of course, I’m just being silly, he had told himself.

  Deputy Dog was the exception of the animals. He would eagerly accompany them into the Walls. The Deputy, as Ann called him, was a stray that had been around for a few years. He was a strange dog because he didn’t bark and he didn’t beg. When Arty was living with them, the Deputy would sit out on the back patio with Arty. After Arty left, Tim would often see him around his house, but the Deputy was coaxed in only once. He sniffed around, went into each room briefly, then went back out the front door and left. Tim tried many times after that, but the dog would never enter again.