The Summer I Died

by Ryan C. Thomas

  Quickly, we worked the rags back into our mouths and pretended they were still tight even though they hung a little loose at the back of our necks. A second later the door swung open and our captor sauntered in, rolling my dice in his hand. He carried a black duffel bag in the other. He was clothed in the shirt and pants he’d had on earlier, but the cap was gone. Butch was at his heels, like a piece of shit-stained toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

  “Hi, boys. Butch and me were just discussing something upstairs,” he said. “He’s real upset about Sundance and I’m not sure how to console him. Not like I’m a fucking grief counselor or something. I tried to tell him that Sundance is playing in Heaven, having a grand ol’ time, but he don’t believe me. When he gets this way there’s no talking to him. So I asked what I could do to make him feel better and he said he wanted to come play with you, maybe get his mind off things. Personally, I think it’d be kind of therapeutic for him, don’t you agree? Hell, what could I do?”

  Skinny Man had this sort of dazed look in his eyes, the kind of look you see on people who don’t sleep much. He probably stayed up all night talking to the mice in the walls. While it wasn’t funny the way he talked to Butch, I thought it was funny that he had named both animals after two outlaws that arguably died at the end of the movie. Was that fate working for us?

  Skinny Man played with the dice like he was rubbing his own balls, rolling them over one another. He put the duffel bag on the ground and stared at my chest for a moment, mulling something over.

  “Silver Surfer,” he said. “I know that. Used to read that when I was younger. Metal man from outer space imprisoned on Earth, helping mankind fight against the evil of the universe. Boy, that was the kind of hero I loved when I was a kid. That was the kind of thing made you want to do good in school, and bring flowers home to your mama. You ever bring flowers home to your mama?”

  I didn’t respond. He grabbed my throat and squeezed hard until it felt like the front on my neck was touching the back. Tears fell from my eyes and through them I could see Tooth watching intently.

  “Politeness is a virtue. Answer the question or I’ll go get your mama and bring her back here and we can have a family discussion.”

  I cried, “No!”

  Skinny Man liked that; he smiled and let go of my throat. Air rushed into my lungs and I immediately started coughing. “Answer the question. Did you ever bring your mama flowers?”

  I faked a muffled yes because I didn’t want him to know we’d loosened our gags.

  “Son, I’m not stupid. I know that gag has been out of your mouth. You think I was born yesterday? Normally, I got some duct tape lying about but somebody thought it would be funny to bury it, and all I had left was these old rags I used to clean up somebody’s piss.”

  Each time he said “somebody” he looked at Butch.

  “Anyway, you don’t need to answer. I can tell you were a good boy. You were never in trouble. Must have been a straight-A student, apple of your mama’s eye.”

  I didn’t like the way he used the past tense when referring to me. It was not a good sign. He ripped the gag clean off of me and threw it on the floor.

  “But you did break one law: trespassing. Why did you trespass on my property?

  “Because we heard a woman screaming.” My voice was shaky and unsure.

  “Because you wanted to be a hero like Silver Surfer here. But there are no heroes in this world, my friend, only winners and losers, the strong and weak, the chosen and unchosen. Trust me, I know. Ain’t that right, Butch, we know all about that kind of thing. And we know what happens to little boys that break the rules, don’t we? They become the property of the demolition crew. You ever see a building get torn down? They smash that big ol’ wrecking ball into it and kapow! the wall crumbles and falls to the ground. Too brutish, I tell ya. Some poor soul took the time to make that building, took care to place each brick just right, gave a piece of himself in the process. Yet every time, they just bash that ball into it. We’re not like that though, are we? No sir, we’re a different kind of demolition crew. Someone took the time to make you, and we’re gonna take the same kind of care and passion in unmaking you. . my little rule breakers. But this is neither here nor there. Butch wants to play, so we’re gonna play.”

  He put the dice in his pocket, opened the duffel bag and reached inside. He pulled out a length of razor wire and two heavy work gloves. I went flaccid, as if my bones had been turned into wet noodles. Tooth thrust his gag out and yelled, “Fight me, fight me man to man!”

  Skinny Man put the gloves on, took hold of the wire, and whipped Tooth across the face with it. It made a sound like someone undoing their zipper. Little pearls of blood splashed against the side of my head, some of it flying into my ear and lodging in the ear canal. No sooner had he hit Tooth than Tooth picked his head back up and looked right at him, stubborn as ever. His right cheek was slashed open in three places. The bruises inflicted yesterday, which had since filled with puss, were pumping out all sorts of blackish fluids.

  That’s when Skinny Man thrust the razor wire into Tooth’s mouth and tied it around the back of his head. The razors sliced off part of Tooth’s bottom lip, which fell to the floor. Butch ran over and snatched it up, bobbing his head up and down as he ate it. Tooth screamed. But he stopped quickly, realizing that any movement of his jaw would cut him. It was too late though, the razors cut into the corners of his mouth, and within seconds had sliced them open to his cheeks. The blood ran in rivulets.

  I realized I was trying to scream but wasn’t making any noise. It’s funny how they say your voice can be a weapon, but when you’re dead fucking scared, and could probably use it, it takes a hike. Didn’t matter how horrified I was-my throat wouldn’t respond to the image in front of me.

  “That’ll shut you up,” Skinny Man said. “I warned you, didn’t I!” He stepped back and admired his handiwork, nodding acceptance. “Okay, enough bullshit. It’s time to play.” He took the dice out of his pockets and held them down to Butch, who sniffed them eagerly. “Blow on ’em for me, honey.” He thought that was something awful funny and broke into that cackling laugh again. He rolled a six.

  “This just ain’t your day is it, Mervyn.”

  Tooth was beside himself, his slashed face swollen, his charred, cut lips transforming him into something entirely alien. This was not the Tooth I knew. This was biology at its basest, and lacerated skin was only the beginning. All around where his cheek was slashed, bone and sinew peeked out.

  Skinny Man took up the duffel bag again and pulled out a butcher’s knife.

  “No,” I begged. “Please. Please, leave us alone. We didn’t mean to trespass, we didn’t know. We never meant to do anything wrong.”

  “It’s a little late for apologies, don’t you think?”

  He reached out and undid Tooth pants.

  “Wait,” I said. “Wait. I’ve got money, I’ve got lots of money.”

  Skinny Man spun to me and put the knife to my eye, pushed the point into my flesh just under my lower eyelashes, but not enough to pierce anything. “You speak again, I cut your sister’s throat. You all wanted to interrupt my last game, be superheroes, so now you got to take her spot. Fair is fair. Now where was I?”

  He pulled down Tooth’s pants and tore off his boxer shorts. Tooth’s dick had shrunk in fear and his scrotum was as tight against his groin as a walnut.

  Skinny Man went dazed again, started touching himself as he looked at Tooth’s genitals. He started to dance a bit, rubbing himself harder and harder. Then he licked his lips and looked at Butch, who was licking his own chops.

  “Who’s hungry?” he asked. Butch barked.

  Skinny Man lunged, grabbed Tooth’s dick, and sliced it off.

  Tooth screamed, the razors opening his cheeks back to his ears. His bowels let loose and evacuated all over the floor, piss spraying out like it was coming from a showerhead.

  From the back room Jamie screamed and I followed her lead.
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br />   Skinny Man took the wormish body part and tossed it into Butch’s dog dish. The dog walked over and sniffed it and sank his teeth into it, bit it in half and swallowed the pieces. Once again, this was followed by a quick repair job from the blazing shovel, which Skinny Man pressed against Tooth’s stumped, bloody groin. Smoke rose as the hair and flesh fused shut.

  Tooth passed out.

  Skinny Man put the shovel back in the stove and shot me a smile. “Back in a bit,” he said.

  CHAPTER 16

  The collar around Tooth’s neck caught him as he fainted and swung him side to side, slowly. I thought for sure his neck would break, but his chin was taking most of his weight. He was alive, though I wasn’t sure how long that would last. His naked lower half was bubbled with third degree burns, and fluids were leaking out like lava from a cracked volcano wall.

  Upstairs, Skinny Man was stomping around and talking loudly to someone, no doubt Butch. It sounded like they were arguing about something: a day of the week, laundry, other nonsense that meant nothing-or everything-depending on how you looked at it. This went on for several minutes and then I heard the door to the driveway open and Skinny Man go out, slamming it behind him. Faintly, I heard a car motor start and fade into the distance.

  We were alone.

  If we didn’t get out now we might not ever. “Help! Anyone! Help us!” I yelled. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone for and I had to try the obvious. “Please, somebody, help me!” I waited and tried again, but still got no response.

  “Tooth,” I said, “You’ve got to stand up. The chain is going to choke you.”

  He didn’t respond, just hung there with his eyes closed, his feet dragging through his own feces. He looked like a monster, an unrecognizable mass of contusions. The razor wire had done its job and I imagined you could flip his head open and use his skull as a bowl.

  I pulled on the chains again, hoping they might have loosened in the past few hours, but my wishful thinking was squashed like a bug; the chains were fortified links of imprisonment. Tooth was onto something before, about figuring out how to get Skinny Man while still in our binds, and right before he came downstairs, Tooth had that proverbial lightbulb over his head. Unfortunately, I hadn’t the faintest idea what he had thought of.

  I had to think, and I had to do it outside the box. Tooth had tried to yank his wrist through the cuffs, ripped a chunk of skin off, and beamed. But I knew he’d never get his hand through in one piece. What was his plan?

  I was wracking my brain when I heard the car return, tires crunching on the gravel driveway. Shit, that was fast. Or was it? Time didn’t measure the same to me anymore; the seconds lasted hours and the hours blurred into a single frozen moment. The driveway door opened and keys jingled down the stairs, stopped behind the sunset photo. For a brief moment Skinny Man just stood there, listening. There was nothing to hear though-Tooth was out, Jamie was crying softly and incoherently, and I was quietly listening. What was he hoping to hear? Us making plans? Then it dawned on me: he was just playing around. Coming down the stairs as loud as he did, he knew I must have heard him. Like the incident with the gun, he was just messing with my head.

  Sure enough, the door unlocked and Skinny Man came back into the room carrying a brand new roll of duct tape in his hands. Butch followed him in and went and sat by his dishes.

  “Should have done this first I guess,” he said. “Some people just love to say ‘I told you so.’”

  He tore off a piece and slammed it over Tooth’s mouth, covering the razor wire. The blood, saliva and pus made the tape slick and he had to put a few pieces on, wrapping it around the entire head before it would stick. He did me next, pressing it against my face so tight I thought my head would cave in. Having to breathe solely through my nose accentuated the stench of the room, which was beyond anything I’d ever dreamt possible. Dead fish in a hot trunk would have smelled better. Next, he disappeared into the back room and muffled Jamie’s cries. When he came out he put his hands on his hips and stared at Butch.

  “Are you satisfied now?”

  The dog sat like a bump on a log, obviously aware that his master’s brains were made of diarrhea. But Skinny Man gave a little chuckle, and for the first time I thought maybe he was just messing with us. Maybe the whole talking-to-the-dog thing was a ruse in case we escaped. I tried to remember if Son of Sam had pleaded insanity, but I couldn’t recall.

  He came over and picked Tooth’s Red Sox cap off the floor, brushed it off and put it back on Tooth’s head. “Should’ve known you was a Red Sox fan. Never met an asshole that wasn’t. Hear tell that Red Sox fans are the most loyal fans around, but if you ask me, anyone who roots for these losers year after year after year, that ain’t loyalty, that’s just plain ignorance.”

  Tooth made a little snuffle and blinked his eyes. I prayed for him to wake up, at least so he wouldn’t choke. But then I thought better he choke than get butchered any more. God, was I really giving in?

  Blood was seeping out around the tape on Tooth’s face and running down his chin. It reminded me of a movie I’d seen, Force Ten From Navarone, where Harrison Ford and Robert Shaw were trying to blow up a dam. When they blew the dynamite, little cracks zig-zagged along the dam wall. The water trickled out slowly at first and they thought they’d failed the mission, but slowly the cracks widened until the whole dam broke apart and fell into the river. I almost expected Tooth’s head to do that now, just crumble apart and spill his brains down his shoulders. But Skinny Man must have seen the same movie, because he took out a pocket knife and poked a hole through the tape into Tooth’s mouth, letting the blood run out and pool on the floor.

  Butch was on it like a fly on shit, licking it up as it fell. “Leave it.” Skinny Man kicked at him and reluctantly the dog went back and lay near his dishes.

  “Okay then,” he said. “I think it’s time to play another game. How about that, Butch, you wanna play some more?”

  The dog looked up, tilted his head, gave a little wag of his stubby tail. He looked unsure whether he’d get a treat or a kick in the ribs.

  “Who’s feeling lucky? Will it be asshole number one, wearing the hat of a loser team made of midgets and niggers? Or will it be asshole number two, who rubs his nub to pictures of Wonder Woman because he’s too much of a nerd to get laid? Or perhaps,” he smiled, licked his forefinger and stuck it in the air, “asshole number three. A sweet young hole if there ever was one.”

  I hated him talking about Jamie, but I forced myself to remain calm, to figure out what Tooth had hit on. It was difficult to ignore Skinny Man as he rolled the dice about and tossed them on the floor. I didn’t look at the numbers, didn’t look to see the expression on his face. I had to think. What had Tooth been doing when he’d tried to pull his hand through the cuffs? I tried to pull my hand through but my wrist wouldn’t fit, and I ended up opening the cut that was there already a little more.

  “Eleven. Boy, I am one lucky motherfucker, ain’t I, Butch? Got to hand it to fate, I tell ya.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding when I heard it wasn’t my number.

  Then the ritual began, the dancing, the fondling, the dog barking. I fought to control my mind, to focus on the chains, on escaping. But as he undulated in front of me, taking off his clothes, I found it harder and harder to concentrate until, inevitably, I started crying again. He danced right up to me, all the tattoos following his lead, his own little tribe of headhunters. When he was completely naked he went into the room with Jamie.

  She started screaming when he opened the door, though her voice was muffled from the tape. It wasn’t long before I heard a clink of metal and Skinny Man’s heaving grunt as he lifted something heavy. Whatever it was smashed against the ground and reverberated off the walls, sent chills down my spine and stood my hairs on end. Jamie pierced my ears with an unholy wail that lasted until her breath gave out.

  I started shaking like I was freezing, but it wasn’t from any cold
. I think I might have been going into shock, but I couldn’t be sure. I wanted to tell Jamie to shut up. I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I wanted to be in California, by the waves and smoking fresh dope.

  She filled her lungs again and let loose with the same excruciating cry, and I couldn’t take it. This wasn’t happening. I was asleep, and any moment now I would wake up.

  He came out of the room, blood smeared like war paint on his face and chest, carrying a large ax that looked like it had just been used to serve several pieces of cherry pie. Chunks of red flesh slid down the blade and plopped on the ground. Butch ran over, snorting like a wild boar, and sucked in the meat. Skinny Man rolled the largest piece of flesh up and down his stomach, then down to his erect prick where he rolled it up under his balls. I turned away, nauseated. I didn’t want to know what it was, it didn’t matter anymore. The daydream was safer, so I went back to the West Coast. But even then he wouldn’t leave me alone, came out of nowhere and stood next to me on the beach.

  So I took a walk toward a public park to watch the children playing. I saw Jamie and myself running away from our father who was busy chasing us, making his silly faces. My mother was sitting on a checkered blanket, laughing and taking pictures. Jamie tried to dodge my father and twisted her ankle, crashing to the grass with tears in her eyes. I stopped running and stood next to her, just looking at her puffy face as she cried. My father scooped her up and carried her to the blanket and kissed her on the forehead. My mother rubbed her ankle and made more funny faces until she laughed. Nobody seemed to know I existed at that moment so I sat in the dirt and played with some ants, wondering why this little girl had stolen my parents from me.

  Why that particular memory resurfaced is beyond me, but it calmed me down. I think I was trying to tell myself something, find reason for being where I was. It was a peculiar memory to dwell on, watching myself give in to jealousy. But perhaps it was not the resentment that was the focus, but something else. The picture from that day hung on the wall in our family room, though it was taken in the field behind the elementary school near our home and not in California. And though I had never paid much attention to it growing up, it always reminded me of the blandness of my upbringing. We weren’t a family of stature, or adventure, we were just your typical normal, no-flair unit. But we were a caring family, always there for each other when it mattered most, even if we couldn’t stand to be in the same room with one another half the time.