Tim's dumb luck struck again. He'd made it this long by staying out of sight and only coming to town when he absolutely had to. But it seemed that every time he did he ran into living people. Living people that wanted to either take what he had or to take his life. Which only confirmed his previous belief that people were mostly bad and only acted nice from fear of retribution. Before that meant being arrested and locked away. But now people ran like packs of dogs and only avoiding the dead. The ones still living seemed to only want to cause more death and destruction. To hurt others because of how they themselves had been hurt. So he kept to the shaddows when he came to town. He parked his truck on the outskirts of town. People seemed to avoid the outskirts for some reason, and snuck through buildings and homes in an attempt to stay out of sight. It worked perfectly thus far. He'd already been in the store when he heard something scurrying through the window. Unsure who or what came in he snuck silently behind the counter in the pharmacy and waited.
It wasn't that Tim was unable to defend himself. It wasn't that he was scared of conflict. But rather that over time he realized expending time and energy in a fight only lessened his chance at surviving. He could have easily subdued the woman and stayed hidden from those he saw come in after her. He could have easily cut the four men down and perhaps made a new friend but didn't want to risk injury. So instead he stayed behind the counter, crouched down low, his
bow in hand with attached ten arrow quiverand arrow knocked. Waiting for them to finish with her and to go on about their day. But as one of the men began to whip her with his belt Tim decided to take action.
He'd run into these men before. And they were a particular nasty group. Though previous encounters with Tim had depleted their numbers. He thought he knew their ringleader. A trucker from before everything went to shit, Tim used to have coffee with him in a diner just up the road. Theyd talked and became pseudo friends on their many encounters. But friendships went out the window when this sickness spread and decimated the world's population. The first time Tim saw them after the government fell he was relieved. But instead of a firm handshake and kind words the men met him with violence. He killed two of them that day. And a third on their next encounter. With any luck this would be their last meeting.
It wasn't that Tim was a bad man. Before the spores were released and people started to turn he had been a farmer. And a military man before that. He had never been arrested. Never even so much as a speeding ticket was issued to the monster of a man that slowly stood from behind the counter only a dozen feet behind the men that were abusing the young woman. He was simply a man that was born to survive. He was a man that thrived in every environment he found himself in. Regardless of its toxicity.
It wasn't as if he wanted the woman for himself. Though being able to take comfort in her did appeal to him. That however hadn't yet entered his mind. He really didn't know why he decided to take action. He could easily remain hidden and simply wait until theyd had their fun. But action was what his mind had settled on. Wether it was because he disagreed with what they were doing or because he wanted her for himself. He wasn't sure. All he knew was he needed to act, and that they needed to die.
Tim had just came to nearly his full height when he setteled the twenty yard pin on the top of the man's shoulders when he released the bowstring. Unlike when he was hunting deer or pig he did not use the thumb release. It was an easy shot. Not even ten yards. Knocking an arrow and firing was much faster but less accurate without it. Though accuracy didn't matter much at this short of a distance.
Before the first arrow impacted Tim already had another knocked and drawn. As he took his first step he loosed a second arrow aimed at another man who stood sideways, likely in an attempt to find the unusual sound of the bowstring loosing an arrow. Tim aimed just below the second man's ear and sent it toward him.
Both arrows found their mark while Tim drew a hatchet from his belt and charged toward the remaining men. The first impacted the base of the ringleaders skull and protruded from his open mouth. The sharp field point pierced the bone easily and not a moment too soon as he had just about pressed his maleness between the bound woman's cheeks. He fell into a heap on the attractive young woman's back. Dead where he laid. The second man fell dead just as Tim swung the hatchet at a third man's head.
It all seemed to happen so slowly. Almost like time stood still for Tim. The element of surprise and Tim's violence of action gave him an eternity to do what he's steeled himself to do. The sudden sound of his two compatriots dying caused the third man to turn just in time to see the incoming hatchet and the massive hand that held it. He tried to move, tried to shirk away. But it was too late. All his movement did was cause Tim's blow to connect with his neck instead of his head. The sharp blade cut through the soft skin of his neck and tore through muscle and sniew. Tim had every bit of strength he had dedicated to the blow. He knew from dealing with the eaters how hard it was to cut through the skull. So when the sharp hatchet connected with the soft skin and muscle of his neck it nearly took his head off. It severed an artery and blood splurted through the air and sprayed the side of Tim's face. Finally the hatchet stopped just after it severed the man's spine. But because of the depth of the cut and the sudden dead weight falling to the ground Tim lost his grip and with it the hatchet.
The fourth man turned in shock and tried to run. But Tim was already on him. His free right hand reached out and grabbed the skinny short man by the hair. To the casual observer he may have looked like a giant crashing through a forest of flesh. A man who seemed more comfortable during the height of Rome in a colosseum swinging a sword or ax for the entertainment of Cesar. But he was just a man who had enough of the neighborhood bully.
Tim easily took the thin man off his feet and sent him careening into the table that held the bound woman. He tried to plead. To beg for Tim to stop. But Tim's mind was blank. His hulking physique was in attack mode and wasn't going to stop until he destroyed the entirety of the four men that set out to beat and rape the young woman. As blood dropped off his face and through his thick dark beard Tim lifted his heavy work boot and brought it down on the fourth man's head. A sick wet thud filled his ears while he crushed the man's skull. Blood and greymatter shot from the open cracks in the man's skull and peppered Tim's blue jeans and square toed workboots.
Then there was silence. Complete and utter silence in the wake of the violent acts he committed followed by a wet sound as he pulled his bloody wood handled hatchet from the man's neck and then a thud after he pulled the ringleader's corpse from where it has fallen on the nude woman.
Tim towered over her bound body for several long moments as the fire slowly extinguished in his dark chocolate brown eyes. He was a mountain of a man. Well over six and a half feet tall and ruggedly muscular. No. His body was not cut and chiseled like some model. But rather largely built with a barrel chest and tree trunks for legs. Dwarfing the other men hed just sent to whatever afterlife existed he stood there staring down at the attractive young woman who was now also covered in the blood of her attackers. His own white shirt was covered in the crimson liquid from the grotesque slaughter.
After several long seconds he frowned and began to untie her. Once she was free he ripped a leather jacket off the ringleader's body and offered it to her. "Come on." He said in a deep gravely voice. "Let's get you some clothes and get the fuck out of here." Tim wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. Or what he was going to do with her. He did well by himself. He enjoyed his solitude. But the sudden prospect of having someone to talk to appealed to him. So while he pulled his arrows and their sharp field points from the two dead men he continued to speak. "I'm Tim." Figuring that last names really didn't matter. "Your screaming probably got someone's attention. So I reckon we don't have long."
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