The Damned Summer (The Ruin Trilogy)

by Weaver, Scott

  Jake and Johnny also watched the metal ball fly off.

  “Fuck!” Johnny yelled. “My car better be okay!”

  The rain still came down like a waterfall, but the twister seemed to be long gone. Its path of destruction however, was still having repercussions.

  Several power lines had been knocked down and were dancing like crazed snakes on the carnival grounds. More than one person felt their deadly bite over the next few moments. The base of the tilt-o-whirl had been damaged severely, leaning it at a forty-five degree angle. It suddenly gave, falling over and crushing to death four more people.

  “Now that’s what I call a broadside!” a voice exclaimed from behind Frank.

  Frank didn’t need to look behind to see who it was. “You didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “No,” the demon replied as he held out his hand to help Frank up. “That would be your boss that called this order.”

  Frank ignored the hand. “This was a natural occurrence of the weather, nothing more.” He got back on his feet, then nearly fell again when his bad knee almost gave out.

  “Yeah, yeah, the big guy works in mysterious ways, right.”

  “The big guy didn’t have anything to do with this,” Frank growled. “It’s just a bad storm.” Rain pelted his forehead like gravel.

  “Whatever, he’s your boss, I’m sure you know him better than me. But, you can’t disagree on the simple fact that this works better for me than for you.”

  “You’re wrong, people rise to the challenge at times like these.”

  “Oh sure, brief moments of heroics in times of tragedy are common among people, but you know what happens when tragedy stays around for more than five minutes, don’t you?”

  Frank just stared at the demon, trying not to let the rain force him to blink.

  “People show their true nature at times like these,” the demon said with a smile. “Chaos always turns people into selfish beasts, you can’t deny that.”

  “I won’t deny it, I’ll disprove it,” Frank said as he turned and walked away.

  “Whoo-hooh, doggie,” the demon called from behind. “The gauntlet has been thrown down, let’s get it on, Franky!”

  Lloyd growled quietly as they walked off.

  “I know,” Frank answered. “He’s just trying to get us worked up, trying to get us off the trail of what we really need to do.”

  A woman cried out from Frank’s left. He looked over and saw her leg was pinned under the Tilt-O-Wheel, surely broken.

  “Hold on, miss,” he yelled through the rain. “I’m coming.” He investigated her pinned leg and quickly knew he could not free her. He grabbed her hand. “I’m going to go get help.”

  She clutched his fingers “Don’t leave me!”

  He gripped her hand tighter. “I’m going to need help to free you, but my dog will stay with you.”

  The woman glanced at Lloyd, who tentatively stepped forward.

  “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  The woman nodded, holding her hand out to Lloyd, who gently licked her fingers.

  Frank moved off without another word, glancing at the smiling demon as he went.

  “It took less than a minute to prove you wrong,” he said with a laugh. “This night just keeps getting better and better!”

  Chapter 17 Wicked Aftermath

  Kara was the only person that night that was actually thankful of the rain. It washed away the mud and scum almost as well as a shower. She looked up at the sky as tears mixed with raindrops.

  “Johnny?” she called out to the darkness. There was no answer, and she was both relieved and scared at the same time.

  It was at this time that the twister hit the carnival. Kara was at a safe distance, watching the wind funnel knocking over the tilt-a-wheel, and crumpling up the Ferris wheel and kicking it out into the parking lot like a giant metallic soccer ball.

  “Holy shit!” she screamed as the rain came down in large, angry drops.

  “Ain’t nothin’ holy about it, baby!” a voice said from behind her.

  She turned and saw the demon. He looked the same as all the other times he had shown up so far today, except he let her see his real eyes.

  She screamed and threw her face into the mud. “Bad trip, bad trip!”

  He crouched down in front of her, stroking her hair, “Oh you poor little slut, the trip hasn’t even started yet.”

  Jake and Johnny hauled ass towards the parking lot. Jake caught a glimpse of Sarah just as they reached the car.

  “Sarah!” he yelled through the rain. “Over here!”

  “Have you seen my parents?” she asked, reaching him.

  “No, we just got out here. Are you okay?”

  She pushed her hair out of her face. “They were out here when the tornado hit. I have to find them!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll help you. C’mon, Johnny.”

  “Fuck that, man! I’m outta here!” Johnny replied, opening the car door.

  “Bullshit!” Jake said, grabbing Johnny’s arm and pulling him out of the car. “You’re not leaving until we find everybody, you got it, mother-fucker?”

  Johnny pulled his arm away. “Fuck you, man!”

  Jake punched him in the side of the face with a right hook, knocking Johnny right to his knees.

  “Cock-sucker,” Jake yelled, kicking him into the mud. “I’m so sick of your bullshit.”

  He grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go.” And they ran off into the storm.

  Johnny picked himself up out of the mud. With his left hand he pulled out his flask of whiskey and took a deep drink. With his right hand he pulled his switchblade, clicking it open. “I’ll show you, asshole,” he whispered, walking after them.

  Frank had found four people willing to help him free the trapped woman. After a few moments they got her loose and Frank and Lloyd were back on track.

  “Where did he go?” Frank asked, looking around.

  Lloyd answered with a bark as he saw the demon leading a girl into the parking lot.

  “Let’s go,” Frank replied.

  Needless to say, Lloyd covered the distance between them much quicker than Frank.

  “Shit!” the demon growled as the small dog came down on him like a lion. “Get the fucking car unlocked!” He commanded as the dog ripped into his leg.

  Kara held up the keyless entry to her blurred eyes and finally figured out which button to push. With a beep the doors unlocked and the demon threw open the door, pushed the girl in and jumped behind the wheel. Lloyd went right into the car with them, dangerously close to clamping down its jaws on the fiend's throat.

  “Get this fucking thing off me!” The demon screamed at Kara as he tried to get the dog away from his face.

  Kara replied by puking all over the floorboard of the car.

  “Fucking lost cause,” the demon growled, climbing out of the car. Lloyd continued to chew on his arm.

  Frank came around the car just in time to see the demon get back on his feet and get loose of Lloyd. Frank looked in the car at the young lady, half passed out in the front seat.

  “Did we interrupt your plans?” Frank asked.

  “Minor setback,” the demon replied. “That bitch ain’t nothing,” and then his form folded off into the darkness.

  Frank took a moment to let Kara finish emptying her stomach. “Are you going to be alright?” He asked.

  She looked at him with mascara stained eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

  He laid his hand on her scraped, dirty knee. “I’m a friend, I want to protect you from the monster that brought you here.”

  She started to cry, “This is the worst fucking night of my life.”

  “I know, dear,” he replied, patting her knee. “I’m so sorry for whatever has happened to you tonight.”

  She made eye contact with him again. “I really liked him.” Tears traced black lines down her face like poisoned tar.

  Frank hoped she wasn’t talking about the demon, but h
ad no time to council her. “Where was it you were going?”

  “The Simmons farm,” she replied with a sniffle.

  Frank looked to Lloyd, “Margaret.”

  Lloyd nodded his head with a quick sneeze.

  Frank squeezed Kara’s hand. “Sit tight honey, we’ll take it from here.”

  She replied with convulsions as she went into toxic shock.

  “Damn,” Frank whispered as the demon’s words echoed through his head, telling him he would have to abandon someone in order to achieve his own goals.

  Lloyd gave a sharp bark, drawing Frank’s eyes. The dog and the man looked at one another.

  “The Greater Good.” The Canine’s eyes bored into the Homo Sapiens’s.

  “Not good enough,” Frank replied as he looked around. “We’ve never played by the demons rules before, we’re not starting to now.”

  The cut on Johnny’s lip burned as he took a long sip of the tequila from his flask. He hissed and then giggled slightly from the pain, scrapping his thumb across his mouth. He looked down at his hand that now had a red racing stripe of blood leaking down his fingers.

  “Pussy hit me with a cheap shot,” he whispered as the rain started to dilute the blood. He brought the redness to his mouth and sucked it back into his system.

  He licked his throbbing mouth. “Not too bad of a whiskey chaser,” he said.

  Confusion suddenly hit his clouded brain. He looked down at the silver flask that was supposed to have whiskey in it, but he swore he just tasted tequila in his last swallow. He took another deep drink.

  The spicy liquor brought back his memory. “That fuckin’ carny,” he thought with a nod. “He must a given me a refill. What a dumbass.” He put the flask away, and got out the switchblade.

  People were all over the place, running, crying, pleading for help. Back in the park the tilt-a-whirl finally went down the rest of the way with a metal crunch, making the screams increase, as people scattered like scared rats.

  Johnny started to giggle as he watched the people run from falling steel, and then he saw a middle aged woman, fleeing from the ride, flailing her arms as she ran, screaming at the top of her lungs: “OhmyGodohmyGod!”

  His giggling turned to belly laughter, as he stumbled back up against his car. “You only see this kind of shit on You Tube.” he thought to himself.

  He watched her cartoon ass run right out of the park and into a large puddle that an electrical wire was dancing in. She quickly joined in her own dance and the noise she was making now was even funnier than before.

  “Oh shit!” Johnny said as he started laughing even harder, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

  She crumbled to the ground in silence, but was still convulsing.

  Johnny pointed at her. “Look! Now she’s break dancing!” He wiped the tears from his eyes as he kept laughing.

  A concerned man suddenly ran up to Johnny. “Are you alright son?” He saw him wiping his eyes, but not the knife in his hand.

  The laughter stopped as Johnny slammed the switchblade into the man’s stomach. “I’m doin’ a hell of a lot better than you, dumb-shit.”

  The man crumbled to the mud with a gasp. Johnny helped him on his way down, as he pushed him off his knife and walked away.

  “Fuckin’ twister ain’t the only one that can raise some hell in this shit-bird town,” he said, looking around for Jake. “Where’d you go, ya pussy?”

  The rain and lack of electricity made it impossible to make out where Jake and his bitch had gone. He let out a sigh, hungry to kill his friend, but unwilling to actually put any effort into trying to find him. Work sucked.

  “Shit,” he said, pulling out his flask. He looked down at the guy he stabbed in the mud. He wasn’t moving or moaning anymore, the fucking pussy.

  The last sip of tequila trickled down his throat as he tipped the metal bottle all the way up.

  “Double-shit!” He growled, throwing the empty flask into the mud. He still had plenty of weed, but he didn’t want weed, he wanted some fucking alcohol.

  A smile cracked his bloody lip. “Momma Simmons got plenty a hooch ta share, and when sonny boy comes home,” he looked down at the knife. “I’ll have something to share with him.”

  He climbed into the old mustang. Fired it up and threw it in gear. Mud flew into the air as the old tires tried to get traction.

  “C’mon on, ya fuck!” He yelled, throwing it in reverse. The car lurched backwards, bumping into the dead man’s skull, sinking it deeper into the earth.

  He threw it back into drive and hammered it. The tire spun for a moment as it ate away at skin and hair and then magically gripped, pushing the car forward, slowly but surely.

  “Oh yeah, baby!” He cheered as his car fishtailed its way out of the parking lot. A long trail of mud flew up behind him, nearly burying the dead man that had stopped to see if Johnny needed any help.

  Frank saw an ambulance pulling into the parking lot. “Hey! Over here!” He waved his hands.

  The paramedics climbed out of their vehicle and made their way to him.

  “She’s having seizures,” Frank explained. “I think an overdose of some kind.”

  An annoyed sigh escaped one of their lips, but they went forward and started working on her. “Please move back sir.”

  Frank did as he was told, stumbling back through the dark mud, Lloyd was right by his side.

  “We’ve got to get out to that farm,” Frank said. “We need a vehicle.” He looked back at the EMT workers and the unconscious girl. He had no idea where her keys were, and even if he did, the ambulance would be in the way of getting the car out.

  “The Indian,” He said. “I can get out there on the bike.”

  Lloyd sat down, looking at him with folded ears.

  “There is no way I’d be able to take you with me.”

  Now the dog looked away, blowing air out of his nose.

  Frank turned back behind him, pointing out towards the Simmons farm. “If you cut through the fields, it shouldn’t be more than a couple miles. With the way you can move, you’ll probably get there just a couple of minutes after me…”

  Lloyd shot past him like a bullet, already on his way to the farm.

  Frank smiled. “Lassie ain’t got shit on you, boy.” He quickly made his way back to his garage. “That damn bike better start this time.”

  Lloyd hauled ass down the dark street towards the muddy field. He was going down a street that had been in the direct path of the tornado. Houses to either side of him where one of three things: piles of shredded lumber, completely untouched or twisted and chewed on like a giant land shark had mauled it. The dog didn’t really notice; he was focused on the Simmon’s farm. That’s where he wanted to be right now. Right now. Right now.

  He could hear the vehicle coming up behind him, but it was still a ways away, so he paid it little heed.

  The man that was behind the old truck had been out at his friend’s house drinking all day. He had drove right through the storm, missing the tornado by about 4 miles, completely oblivious of it. His stereo was blaring out an old song from a long dead nineties metal band called Atomic Slaughter from his ancient tape deck.

  “Ain’t that fuckin’ late,” he mumbled, noticing all the lights being out. He glanced at the radio clock, which read 11:45. He gave a slight nod of his head. He had to be at work at 6:30 tomorrow, he still had time to have a couple more beers when he got home before he had to crash.

  He chuckled to himself as he put a cigarette in his mouth and started clicking his lighter for a spark. His windows were wide-open, killing the flame before it really began.

  “Damn it!” he cursed as his teeth clamped down on the cancer stick. The car lighter hadn’t worked for close to twelve years now. The truck swerved back and forth as he paid more attention to his smoke than the road. The meandering headlights sweepted across Lloyd as he made his way down the street, as the truck got closer to him.

  The drunk didn’t notice the dog, but he did
notice one of the houses that had been turned into kindling.

  “Shiiit,” he replied, as the cigarette fell from his mouth. “What the fuck?”

  The car drove past, but he kept looking at the woodpile, craning his neck as he looked through the back window. The unattended vehicle veered to the right, directly towards Lloyd.

  The dog sensed the danger, glancing behind, it saw the truck coming down on him, so he dodged to the left.

  The destroyed house was nearly out of sight for the drunk so he turned back around, noticing he was about to go off the road and hit a tree.

  “Shit!” He screamed as he over steered back to the left, directly toward Lloyd.

  When an automobile is flying towards someone, with moments left before impact, it’s very difficult to keep calm, much less make a smart calculated decision on what to do in order to survive.

  Many would argue that making a logical choice that required analysis would be beyond a simple canine. Of course most people had no idea there were dogs like Lloyd.

  Whether it was raw instinct, higher brain power or just stupid luck, was unknown, but Lloyd hopped to the right and laid down. The tires roared past him by less than two inches, the frame of the truck about half an inch above him.

  The old vehicle screeched to a halt as it hit a telephone pole with a glassy crunch. The drunk’s head hit the steering wheel and stayed there. Atomic Slaughter rocked on through the speakers about being hungry and wanting their bitch to feed them. The jarring impact knocked loose a power line. The black line of electric death fell towards the ground like a discarded evil serpent.

  Lloyd was up and moving as soon as the truck was past him. Back on the trail, focused once again on the Simmon’s farm. He didn’t see the line falling towards him, but he sure could hear it.

  It sounded like meat sizzling on a pan, but just a little different, and there was no good smell. The only thing his nose was picking up was burnt rubber, and there was nothing good about that unnatural smell.

  It was right above him! Coming down like angry, noisy rain. He cut to the right, just as the live wire hit the wet pavement.