Ryan Thomas - The Summer I Died

“That’s it,” the skinhead yelled as he adjusted the ring on his hand for optimal stamping, “we’re all going outside.”

Tooth snapped his arm back, fist balled into a battering ram, and I shoved my foot forward. Lightning Bolt Head stumbled as his leg gave out, and in that instant Tooth hit him square in the face. The force of the blow slammed his head back into mine and split my lip. A flash of white erupted under my eyelids and I felt myself falling. Then everything kind of exploded, as if a pack of wolves had been released into a hen house. Fists came from every direction, combat boots flashed at eye level. Yelling and screaming and bottles breaking. Grunts and gouts of blood spitting through the air. Taking advantage of my new position on the ground, I began crawling toward the door over shards of green and brown bottle. I was inches away from salvation when a dozen hands reached down and yanked me up and I knew, without a doubt, that I was a dead man. I pissed myself.

The next thing I saw was a golf club slicing the air and bodies flying this way and that. Whoosh! I ducked a swing that would have made a hole-in-one in my cheek and came up to find Tooth in front of me. His face was awash in blood and his bridge had been punched out.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” I yelled.

“Holdth on, I woft my tees.”

We bent down as skinheads careened around us, bleeding and moaning. Cheers went up from the other patrons, whose expectations had been generously fulfilled. I found his bridge under a barstool, covered in a glob of ichor that reminded me of a stewed tomato. I thrust it in his hand and nearly retched as he shoved it in his mouth. He yanked me up and we bolted out the front door and sped away.

And that was how my last trip to O’Conner’s had ended.

As I looked at the encroaching grayness crawling toward us over the mountains, I passed the joint back to Tooth and thought, no, I’m not particularly interested in going to O’Conner’s tonight. I told this to Tooth.

“You’re afraid those skinhead jerkoffs will be there,” he said. “Man, when are you gonna get a backbone?”

“I have a backbone, and it’s straight and in one piece. I kind of like it that way.”

“You kind of make me sick sometimes.”

I wasn’t expecting that. But then again, he was drunk and he was unpredictable when drunk. I didn’t take his bait though; if he wanted to give me shit about not wanting to fight he could work it into the conversation on his own.

Man, he was pissing me off.

“You never take any chances,” he continued. “How long are you gonna stay in this hick town, doing nothing but reading comic books? When was the last time you got laid?”

“I get laid.”

“No, you don’t. Shit, you must pull your dick as often as I take a drink.”

“I’d have my dick in my hand right now if that were the case.”

“Man, don’t you feel suffocated here?”

“The university isn’t like that, there’s opportunity, cool people. You’d know that if you came to visit.”

“There’s no point. All college girls want to do is talk about how they’re going to be lawyers and doctors. None of them want to rape me like a bitch in heat, like the Internet says.”

“It’s not like that. Mostly they’re all hippies, listen to reggae music, hang out and let their leg hair grow. And they’re so sheltered, like they all grew up in communes. These girls came in my dorm room one night while I was watching Evil Dead and they asked what it was. Can you believe that? They’d never seen Evil Dead . I just laughed.”

“You elitist jackass. You should have fucked them.”

“Who said I didn’t?” I replied, annoyed at his lack of faith in me. Though the truth was they had walked into my room by mistake and asked the one question and left. I didn’t know too many girls, at least ones I could relate to. There was one girl living in a room down the hall who was very cute, small nose, short brown hair, had a picture of Ewan McGregor on her door in his Obi Wan Kenobi costume. I liked her, and we’d talked briefly, but I learned she had a boyfriend and not a very nice one at that. She left soon after anyway. Tooth was right-I pulled my dick a lot.

“Fuck, I need to get laid,” he said. “It’s been over two weeks.”

“Who did you get with?” I asked.

He took another pull on the joint and handed it to me. His eyes were red and clouded, and I doubted he could drive anymore, which meant I had better start sobering up or we’d be camping in the mountains like a couple of cro-mags.

“Michelle Murphy.”

“Bullshit,” I yelled. I handed the joint back to him and blew smoke in his face. Michelle Murphy had been every boy’s dream back in high school, the kind of girl you would have given all your paper route money for, the kind of girl you jerked off to on a nightly basis. She was also the kind that made a big deal about her faith and her virginity, which made her all the more desirable.

“Yup. I was at O’Conner’s and she came in with some dude. I hadn’t seen her since high school so I asked what she’d been up to. I don’t remember what she said but her breath could have sterilized the bottom of my shoe. That girl can drink. She starts rubbing on me and telling me she always thought I was a cool guy, which is horseshit, but I didn’t care. Anyway, she grabs my dick and says to follow her home. I said, ‘Who’s this yahoo?’ pointing to the guy she was with. She said, ‘Boston, meet New Hampshire.’ Then she leaned in real close, put her lips on my ear and said, ‘He was round one, you’re round two.’ So I went home with her and damn, that little girl is all grown up I tell you. I thought it was a little weird how the guy sat in the corner and watched, but hey, it didn’t affect my performance none.”

I pitched a rock into the abyss of trees and stood up. “You’re a fucking liar,” I said. “I’m starving, let’s go to Bobtail and grab a burger.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You think what you want, all I know is the devil’s gonna high five me when we meet. Aw, fuck it, a burger sounds good.”

We walked back down the path, which was now so thick with mosquitoes it was like walking through a stinging fog. Tooth put the gun back in the car.

And that was when we heard the scream.

It was a woman. It was desperate. And it came from all around. We stopped moving and scanned the treetops like a couple of dogs sniffing out a trashcan. It sounded as if it came from everywhere at once, and even shifting our focus about we still couldn’t place the location. Then it stopped, the echo died away and all was silent again. Tentatively, the cicadas took up their buzzing once more; the ancient tree limbs went back to creaking like haunted house doors. A few mosquitoes tried to nest in my ear and I batted them away.

“Okay then,” Tooth said, and started to get in the car.

The scream came again, its urgency plain as day, and I knew somebody was hurt or at least needed some big time assistance. The hairs on my forearms stood on end, something that hadn’t happened to me in a while.

“What the fuck is that?” Tooth asked. A sudden fear wrinkled into his brow.

“I don’t know,” I replied, my heart beginning to race. “Sounds like it’s coming from over there but I can’t be sure. Wait, did you hear that?”

But before he could answer, the scream came again, and this time there was an unmistakable plea for help. But it was all run together so it sounded like “helpmepleasehelpme!” Then it stopped and we stood still, not knowing what to do, Tooth with his hand on the car door, me looking into the woods, my stoned brain replaying scenes from slasher films. The forest was on mute, every creature silent in the face of the unknown.