Ryan Thomas - The Summer I Died

“I’m fine!” I managed to yell around my gag. “But she’s burning to death. He lit the stove. We’ve got to stop it.”

We both struggled against our chains but to no avail. She was starting to bleed from her back, frantically trying to scoot away from the heat. The chains were just loose enough that she managed to open a small gap about a centimeter wide between her and the hot iron wall of the stove, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. The heat melted away her skin like candle wax. Desperately she kicked and rocked, but still her flesh singed. Blood fizzled as it ran down the stove and pooled beneath her. A gooey cream-colored substance joined the mix; either skin or fat, I didn’t know which.

The screaming was unlike anything I’d ever heard. It was guttural. It raked my bones. She spasmed, shook, saw us watching her die; she shrieked at us. The ax swung about as she flailed, and the handle banged against the wall, keeping time to this hellish nightmare. A nightmare so unreal I couldn’t look away.

Neither could Tooth. He was watching with tears streaming down his cheeks, his puffy eyes beginning to slit open just a little. The smell of charred flesh was so awful it made me want to stop breathing, but the rag was so full in my mouth that if I didn’t try to use my nose I would die. Which meant I was forced to smell her body cooking. Tooth started screaming. I started screaming.

We all screamed. We all flailed. We were in Hell.

Then one of the chains gave. I couldn’t believe it. It just went slack. Skinny Man must have left a kink in it which she pulled loose. Not missing a beat, Tooth was yelling at her to move, quickly, to pull at the chain. I doubt she heard him but her gyrating, twisting body instinctively tugged away and pulled free from the slack. She slithered out from her binds, leaving a sickening trail of melted flesh and blood on the floor like snail mucus. Tooth was screaming at her, “Get up! Get up and untie us!”

But she wasn’t listening; she was out of her mind in pain. She flopped on the ground like a wind-up toy that had fallen over, her feet kicking slowly, and lay with her back against the wall so I couldn’t see what damage had been done. Tooth kept yelling through his swollen, purple face. I couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t getting up, and I fucking hated her for it.

“C’mon! Bitch, move!” I screamed.

Unbelievable, this was our chance to escape and it wasn’t going to happen because this poor woman, who by all rights should have been dead by now, who was suffering beyond all human endurance, wouldn’t listen to us. Still, I pleaded because what option did we have? “Get up! Please get up! Please, please, please!”

I kept chanting the “get up” mantra for several minutes before I heard Tooth’s voice. “Enough, Roger. Enough.” He must have been saying it for a while because he was very calm, and the room was hot as a car engine fresh from a circuit race. I got the feeling I’d been yelling for longer than I realized. “Enough. She’s dead.”

She was motionless, that was for sure. Her eyes were closed. Blood coated the entire floor; I looked down and saw I was standing in it. “She’s not dead,” I replied. “Look, her chest is moving.”

Like a light breeze, her chest moved up and down. You had to look hard to see it but it was happening.

“Holy shit. How can she take that much abuse and not die?”

“I want to go home,” I said, my adrenaline finally seeping away.

“I think my jaw is broken. Oh, man, it fucking hurts.”

“He’s going to kill us. We’re going to die and he’s going to torture us and kill us. Oh God, I don’t want to die.”

“Listen, my car is still parked out there. Someone will see it and call the cops if we can just last-”

“Lot of good that’ll do. We’ll be dead by then or at least wish we were.”

He hung his head down and sighed.

“We should have gone shooting at the other place.”

That pissed me off. Was he blaming me for this? I never expected this to happen. Hell, he was the freak with the arsenal. We’d never have been out here if he hadn’t gone Rambo while I was at college. “Fuck you, Tooth. Why did you have to be a hero? Why did you need to find this woman? What did you have to go and shoot the dog for?”

“Because it was trying to eat me. Fuck, Roger, I’m not blaming you.”

On the floor, our burnt cellmate started groaning. She actually sat up and rubbed her head.

“Easy,” I said. “Can you hear us?”

She looked up at me and I felt a renewed sense of hope. Maybe she could get us out of here after all. Maybe I’d shit gold bricks and marry Nicole Kidman, but still. . maybe. She looked like a giant slab of half-cooked bacon covered in ketchup, and I couldn’t believe I was even looking at her without puking. With a bewildered expression on her blood-soaked face, she put a hand in the gooey skin-fat-blood mixture around her ass and sat still. Her shirt, now burned away in back, hung loose around her.

“What’s your name?” Tooth asked her.

Her eyes drifted over to him and her mouth muscles attempted to form words but nothing came out.

“You need medical attention,” he said.

Medical attention? Shit, she needed a priest.

“If you can unchain us we can get you to a hospital,” Tooth continued. “Can you move?”

Her answer consisted of spit dribbling down her chin and some feeble rocking. It was hard to tell if she was trying to stand up or if she was just having a breakdown. It was an infuriating moment and I kept thinking she was trying to help us but somehow I knew she wasn’t going to do jack shit but sit and die slowly.

Then, like an infant, she struggled to her feet and stood, teetering. My heart leapt. Was she going to free us? Were we saved after all? Wonder Woman had nothing on this lady. This was the strongest female I had ever seen. She took a step toward us and wobbled.

“That’s it,” Tooth cooed. “You can do it.”

That’s when the door flew open and Skinny Man stepped into the room waving a shovel in his hand. It was a satanic stage entrance, our screams providing the background music. He ran in and kicked her in the stomach, shattering our hopes, and from the sound of it, some of her ribs as well. She landed in the goo and lay still. Then he hefted the shovel and turned his attention to us.

“This is for Sundance,” he sneered, and swung the shovel into Tooth’s thigh.

The blade slipped right through the flesh and bit into the bone, sticking there with a clunk. Tooth let loose with a scream that was pure blood and hatred. Dizziness washed over me, steering me toward a fainting spell, but I remained conscious somehow. Skinny Man left the shovel protruding from Tooth’s thigh and went and dragged the woman to the center of the floor in front of us.

“Now,” he said. “We’re gonna play a little game. It’s called-” And he started to sing. “The arm bone’s connected to the shoulder bone. The leg bone’s connected to the hip bone.” He flipped her onto her stomach and exposed a back so grotesque, so extensively burned, I couldn’t tell where the muscle ended and the skin began. Her entire lower-middle half glistened with third degree burns, and there was a small glint of white bone visible through it all. And the blood: so much of it I felt like I was looking through rose-tinted glasses.

“The hip bone’s connected to the-will you stop screaming?” he said to Tooth.

But Tooth had gone from screaming to blathering. It was an angry, cursing nonsense filled with a lot of “kill you” and “fucking die” phrases. Blood trickled from the shovel blade and ran down his leg and soaked into his white sock. I prayed it hadn’t hit the artery, but until it was pulled out we wouldn’t know for sure. Now neither of us could run.