Death Wind

by William Bell

  Taking a smaller board from the rack in the van, he walked over to the big cement square. The Freestyle part of the meet was about to start. Allie followed him after carefully locking the van.

  She couldn’t believe what Razz could do. He swerved, danced, spun in circles, did handstands—all on that little board. There were no ramps in this competition—just the flat cement square. Razz made the Pogo and the Finger Flip look easy. The crowd yelled and cheered through his act so loudly that she could hardly hear the music. Allie caught sight of Slammer on the sidelines, waiting for his turn. He was scowling.

  Razz won the Freestyle and Slammer came second.

  After lunch, Allie got a good seat in the stands for the Half-Pipe competition. This was the most exciting part, and the most dangerous. Razz was winning the meet, but he and Slammer were close in points, so if Slammer made a really good showing on the half-pipe and if Razz messed up, Slammer could win overall.

  Allie’s seat was right above the rail, in the center of the half-pipe. When the skateboarders came up the side of the half-pipe and grabbed air, they’d be right in front of her.

  The first few guys weren’t very good. They didn’t grab much air and she could see the fear in their eyes as they flew into the air in front of her. Not that she blamed them. This was scary stuff! One poor guy, dressed in a clown suit, missed the coping trying to do a hand-plant. He flipped into the air, then dropped back to the half-pipe, tumbling down the sides like a broken doll. The guy lay at the bottom, without moving. They took him away on a stretcher. Allie could see a little pool of blood where the kid had been lying.

  Next came Razz. He was directly across from her on the other side of the half-pipe. The crowd was dead quiet, waiting for him. He took his time, strapping on the helmet, adjusting his pads. Then he did something amazing. He leaped into the air! At the highest point of his jump, he slapped his board under his feet and dropped like a stone onto the half-pipe. The wheels on the board began to sing. Razz crossed the bottom of the half-pipe, rolled up the wall in front of Allie and flew high into the air.

  “Oooooooooo!” was the sound the crowd made. Allie looked at Razz’s face as he flew past her. She could tell he saw nothing except the picture in his mind of what he was going to do next. He spun in the air and dropped past her again.

  Razz did his 360 Hand-Plants, Rocket Airs and McTwists like no one else. He was smooth. But he was also daring. The crowd never stopped oooo-ing and ahhhh-ing until he was finished. He rose up the half-pipe across from Allie, flew into the air. He landed on his feet with his board in his hand. Then he smiled and bowed, holding his board across his chest so everyone could see RAZZ written across the graphics.

  Everybody in the stands knew that Razz had the meet in the bag now.

  Slammer was next. He started safely, like the other skateboarders had. He swept up the half-pipe in front of Allie, grabbed some air, turned and dropped back down. He came back. This time he looked straight at her and, as he passed, sent a big gob of spit sailing at her. It splattered onto the bench beside her.

  Then Slammer turned and dropped back. The next time he came past, he was sneering again. Allie gave him the finger. A look of surprise twisted his face into hatred.

  When Slammer turned in the air, his timing was off. He dropped onto the coping. With a crack like a whip, his board snapped clean in half. The crowd gasped as he fell down the half-pipe and tumbled to a heap at the bottom. The two halves of his board clattered down beside him.

  After a few seconds, he struggled to his feet. He looked back up at Allie, his face dark with hate.

  Chapter Four

  That night there was a dance to wind up the skateboarding meet. It was held in a community center nearby. Razz asked Allie to go with him and she said yes. I’ve got nothing better to do except worry, she thought.

  The center was packed with kids when Allie and Razz arrived. There were banners and posters all over the walls, advertising skateboards and gear. At one end of the room a few kids were doing a Freestyle demonstration on a wooden platform. The music was so loud Allie thought the roof would fall in.

  Allie danced with Razz a few times. He was good. She danced with a few other guys, too. But she was nervous and kept looking around for Slammer. Maybe he’ll turn up and give me a hard time, she thought.

  At about nine o’clock Razz said to her, “Brainy, I’ve gotta go phone my sponsor. They wanted me to tell them how I did today. I’ll be right back.”

  Allie sat down on one of the metal chairs, sipping a Diet Pepsi, thinking about her parents. Maybe she had made up her mind too fast. Maybe she shouldn’t have left home after all. What was she going to do when Razz’s tour was over? She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t thought things out too well.

  “Did the big shot leave you all alone?” a voice asked.

  She knew the voice without looking up. It was Slammer.

  He was dressed in black—black leather pants and cycle jacket. The light shining on his white hair made him look like a ghost. Standing with him were two other guys.

  Slammer leaned over and hissed, “I’d have won today if it wasn’t for you, bitch.”

  Allie could smell the beer on his breath. She didn’t answer, knowing that what he said was a lie. She decided to get up and walk away. Slammer roughly shoved her back into the chair.

  “Get lost,” she said, wishing she felt as brave as she sounded.

  “For a good-lookin’ chick she’s got an ugly mouth on her,” said Slammer. One of the guys behind him, a tall blond kid, laughed.

  Allie crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

  “Come on with us,” Slammer sneered, “and we’ll show you how to party.”

  Allie was scared. She looked around, but there was no one near her. All the kids on the dance floor had their minds on other things.

  Slammer reached down and grabbed her arm, squeezing hard. He pulled her to her feet. The two goons moved in and the three of them surrounded her. Someone grabbed her other arm and yanked it behind her back. She twisted and struggled. She heard her shirt rip as a jab of pain shot into her shoulder.

  “Let me go, you losers!” she yelled. But the music was so loud her voice was lost. Slammer and the two goons hustled her out the back doors of the community center. Allie shot a frantic look back over her shoulder. Just as the door slammed behind her, it flew open again. It was Razz, and he looked mad.

  Slammer and the other goon let go of Allie and she stepped to the side. Slammer had his knife out—the one he had used to do the job on the van. He and the other goons separated so they could come at Razz from two sides. They paid no more attention to Allie.

  “Come on, scum,” hissed Slammer. “Let’s get it on.”

  “Drop the knife, hot dog,” Razz said. “Let’s see if you can fight without a blade in your hand.”

  Slammer looked around, then folded the knife and put it into his jacket pocket. He grinned.

  It was dark behind the community center and there was no one around. The cold wind whipped Allie’s hair in her face. All she could do was watch as Razz and Slammer took off their jackets.

  They began to circle, each fighter bent over a little, looking for an opening. Slammer struck first, aiming a kick at Razz’s stomach. Razz stepped back and caught Slammer’s foot. He twisted it and Slammer fell to the dirt. Razz waited for him to get up again.

  Allie could see the hate in Slammer’s eyes. Razz looked calm, but he had the same look of concentration he showed when he was up on the half-pipe. Slammer threw a punch. Razz ducked and the punch whacked his shoulder. He stepped forward and shoved Slammer away from him.

  Again, Razz stood and waited for him. Slammer looked really mean now. He isn’t looking too good in front of his friends, Allie thought.

  Fast as a snake, Slammer bent down, grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it into Razz’s face. Razz threw his hands up. Slammer lunged forward, driving his head into Razz’s chest. The two of them went down, grunting, a
nd rolled in the dirt. Fists flew. Legs jerked and kicked. Finally Razz broke loose and got to his feet, blood trickling from his nose. He wiped it away and waited for Slammer to get up.

  When Slammer was on his feet, panting, Razz stepped into him and punched him just below the ribs. Allie could hear the air whoosh out of Slammer’s lungs. With a loud grunt, Slammer dropped to his knees.

  “Want some help, Slammer?” said the blond goon. He doesn’t sound too hot on the idea, thought Allie.

  “No, man. Stay out of it,” Slammer wheezed.

  Razz said, very calmly, “Had enough?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you and your friends leave Brainy alone, all right.”

  Slammer looked up at her and pasted on a weak smile. “Yeah, all right.”

  “O.K., suppose you guys split.”

  The goons left, two of them helping Slammer. He wasn’t walking too straight.

  Later, Allie and Razz were in the van, sipping sodas and listening to the radio.

  “How come Slammer hates you so much?” she asked him.

  “Because I’m champion and I beat him all the time. And because of the sponsors. They pay me a lot more. That’s why he wants to win so much. He’ll earn twice as much money.”

  “Razz, you didn’t really fight him hard. I mean, you just kept pushing him away and ducking his punches. A couple of times you really could have finished him.”

  Razz tipped up his drink, slurping down the last drops. Then he tucked it into the little bag hanging from the dash. “I don’t like fighting, Allie. It doesn’t solve anything.”

  “Anyway, thanks,” she said to him.

  “No probs, Brainy. Now, let’s check the gear. We gotta roll tonight.”

  “Where to?” she asked.

  “Back home. My sponsor wants to set up a TV interview on the cable station in Barrie. And get this—they want me and Slammer on the same program! What a drag. Now we gotta backtrack.”

  Backtrack? Allie didn’t like this news one bit. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. But she wasn’t ready to face her parents yet—she knew that much. The last thing she wanted was to go back home.

  “No, Razz, I can’t go back!” she said.

  “Relax, Brainy. We’ll go back. You can wait in the van while I do the taping, and we’ll be out of there in a couple of hours. We’ll leave now, stop along the way and get some sleep, and be there in lots of time for me to clean up.”

  “But—”

  “We gotta go,” Razz cut in.

  “O.K., O.K.,” she said angrily. What choice do I have? she thought.

  Chapter Five

  Razz drove for a couple of hours, dipping red twisters into the peanut butter jar before he chomped on them. The night was dark and rainy, with high winds that shook the van.

  Allie sat with her feet up on the dash and tried to listen to the music. Her mind was a mess. She was mad at Razz for heading back home, and she was thinking about her parents a lot. And she was worried about the four red circles—especially the one on her calendar. She was still overdue.

  Every once in awhile Razz would tell an elephant joke. “Hey, Brainy! How many elephants can you get into a compact car?”

  “Who cares, Razz?”

  “I thought you were Alison the A student. Come on, how many?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Four—two in the front and two in the back!” Razz would laugh like a crazy man.

  Allie would groan, but laugh anyway. Sometimes Razz could act pretty strange, but he had always been able to kid her out of a bad mood.

  Finally, Razz pulled off the highway onto a gravel side road and parked the van. “Time to catch a few winks, Brainy. I’m whacked. This has been one long day.”

  Razz pushed a button and his window rolled down. Rain blew into the van.

  “Guess I’ll have to sleep in here tonight. O.K.?” The window rolled up, shutting out the rain.

  “No probs, Razz. I’ll curl up in this seat.”

  “No, you take the mattress.”

  “I don’t want the mattress!” she snapped. What’s wrong with me? she thought. I’m starting to sound like my mother

  “O.K., Brainy. Whatever.”

  Allie knew that some of her friends wouldn’t have stayed up front while Razz slept alone on the mattress. But no way was she moving. She’d had enough of that stuff to last a long time.

  Razz set the alarm on the dash clock and climbed in back. He tossed Allie’s sleeping bag up to her and turned out the lights. Allie adjusted the bucket seat and tried to get comfortable.

  For a long time she couldn’t sleep. She stared at the soft blue clock-light and listened to the rain beat against the windows and drum on the roof. She had the strangest feeling that something was wrong at home. She was worried about her parents. They must be sick with worry, too, she thought. They must be wondering where I am.

  Should I go back? What would that solve if I did? Nothing, that’s what. And what happens if I really am pregnant? I couldn’t go home, then.

  Allie had been pushing that thought away all day. With the excitement of the skateboard competition and the problem with Slammer it had been easy not to think of—that. But now the thought pushed into her mind, and it made her afraid.

  It took her a long time to get to sleep.

  In the morning the storm was worse. Thunderclaps slammed the dark sky above them as Razz struggled to hold the van steady in the high wind. The lightning was wicked. The wipers flapped like crazy and still it seemed like the van was driving underwater.

  After an hour, Allie’s thoughts were interrupted by Razz.

  “What the—” he exclaimed.

  Allie stared ahead into the rain. Off to the right, she saw red lights flashing. Razz slowed the van and crept toward the lights.

  “It’s a pickup, with its nose in the ditch,” he said. Then he pulled the van onto the shoulder of the highway. They could see a white truck, with a black stripe along the side from headlights to tailgate.

  “Hey, that’s Slammer’s rig,” Razz said.

  He rammed the shift into Park and opened the door. Rain blew in as he climbed down, slamming the door behind him.

  A few minutes later, two shapes floated out of the rain and came toward the van. They disappeared and the back doors opened. A suitcase was tossed in. Razz and Slammer climbed in and Razz crawled forward into the driver’s seat. His clothes were soaked. Slammer looked awful. He was drenched, and his white hair was plastered to his head.

  A drowned rat, thought Allie. That’s what he looks like

  Slammer looked up at her and grinned. Then he blew her a kiss. She remembered what Razz had said about fighting, so instead of giving him the finger, she smiled as hard as she could. Then she turned around just as Razz pulled the van onto the highway.

  “What did you pick him up for?” she demanded.

  “What could I do, Brainy? He went off the road in the dark and smashed his rad.”

  “You could have left him there,” she answered.

  “But we gotta do that stupid TV show.”

  “Come on back here, Sweet Marie,” Slammer sneered. “This mattress is real soft.”

  Allie stared straight ahead. “Take a hike, loser,” she mumbled.

  “Hey, gimme a break, you two,” Razz snapped. “It’s hard enough driving without a fight in the van!”

  Finally they were on the 400 again, heading north. The traffic was moving slowly because of the heavy rain. Allie tried to get a weather report on the radio, but all she heard was static. The lightning was too close.

  When they got near Barrie, the rain stopped but the wind was worse. Razz was having a hard time holding the van on the road. Allie could see the muscles of his arms bulging as he fought the wheel.

  “Hey, Brainy. How many elephants does it take to drive a van through a hurricane?”

  By the time they reached the ramp to Essa Road, Razz was creeping along, far below the speed limit. He turned off the
highway onto the exit ramp.

  Allie peered through the windshield. Past the Holiday Inn, over the hill, was her house. Wonder if they found my note yet, she thought.

  Razz stopped the van on the gravel shoulder. Then the engine died.

  “Hey, look!” he exclaimed.

  Slammer scrambled forward and knelt behind the engine cover. “Looks bad,” he said, his voice shaky.

  Ahead of them, to the northwest, the sky was weird. It was a dark purple-gray with a sickening yellow streak across it. The sky was quickly getting darker as the yellow faded. Soon, it was like dusk—but it was only ten o’clock in the morning.

  “Look!” Razz said, and pointed to a black cloud up the highway. It seemed to be moving. It wobbled and shifted. Then Allie could see what looked like a crooked black finger coming out of the cloud and reaching down toward the ground.

  The cloud was moving! It grew larger and larger. The roaring wind was punching the van like giant fists. Dirt from the shoulder of the exit ramp swirled into the air.

  “Look,” Allie said. “Are those birds flying around in that black cloud?”

  “I don’t—oh, no, no!”

  “Razz! What’s the matter?”

  “Those aren’t birds, they’re—they’re boards or something!”

  The black finger was moving through the fields beside the highway, coming right towards them. Allie squinted, trying to figure out what she was seeing.

  Then she knew.

  In the black cloud, just above the finger, she saw boards and trees and huge, twisted sheets of metal spinning! The finger moved along the edge of the highway, sucking up dirt and gravel and spewing it into the air. It came to a car stopped on the shoulder. Dirt and stones swirled around the car as the whirlwind touched it. The car almost disappeared from sight.

  Allie didn’t believe what she saw next. The car flipped into the air and landed on its roof, like a toy.

  “Razz!” she screamed. “It’s coming towards us! Get going! Drive!”

  Razz frantically twisted the key. The engine wheezed and groaned and died again.