Late Summer Thunder, Page 3
J. Jacen De La Garza
welcoming the burn like an old friend. The wind extinguished the flame and pulled the blue smoke tendrils of the little match’s life along with it. Today’s storm was still miles out, but that night they were right in the middle of it.
Back Then
The patio at the pool was covered by corrugated metal. It wasn’t the best place to be during a thunderstorm, a fact not lost on Sam but it didn’t seem they were going to be leaving anytime soon so he tried to relax. The snare drum raindrops on the metal roof steadily evolved into a barrage of bullets fired from the clouds. The lightning and thunder, shells fired from some far off celestial artillery
“Why should I even care about her Sam? Why?”
The sudden burst snapped Sam out of his rain induced lull.
“She…when dad died she died too. Not right after, but you weren’t there man. You didn’t see her change like that. My mom was a fucking junkie man, a fucking drugged up…” The shouted, and sobbed words poured painfully from his friend. “My mom you hear me, my mother turned into this. When she.” Tony stopped his thought mid sentence.
Sam straightened up, he didn’t catch it at first, but he replayed what was said and he thought he heard Tony say his mom WAS a junkie, but shouldn’t he have said she IS a junkie, the way one references the living?
Tony sensed Sam make the connection and put the gun back under his chin. Tony was receding like the tide, and Bully was rearing his ugly fish-eyed head again.
“What Sammy? You think it, right? My best friend right?” asked Tony through that same Cheshire grin but this time it was twisted and pained. To Sam it was teetering on the brink of frightening.
“You think I did it? You? My best friend, you think I did it? You think I killed her?”
Tony explained what brought him there that night.
It wasn’t at all what Sam had expected.
How Tony Arrived at the Pool
After feasting on Whataburger and dropping Sam off at home (minus his bike), Tony reluctantly turned toward home. That weekend he would have the house to himself for at least a couple of days while his parents binged for the weekend. He realized he was mistaken when he turned the corner onto his street. He saw his mom’s car in the driveway, passenger and driver side doors ajar, and as he pulled into the driveway he heard the engine running.
Mr. Sosa, the neighbor, was on his porch in his boxers and a robe. He shook his head disapprovingly as Tony got closer.
“They are fighting pretty bad, I was going to call the police but…”
“That’s okay Mr. Sosa I’ll take it from here, I think I hear your wife calling you.” Tony smiled awkwardly and tried to lend some sense of normalcy to the scene. It was a scene becoming increasingly common and steadily more violent.
They both flinched as something heavy and fast moving crashed inside the house.
The last time Tony ever opened the front door of the home his mother and father bought the month he was born, he found Marcos on top of his mother strangling her. He saw her eyes roll back and her tongue slowly protrude further and further from her blue lips. Tony lunged and knocked Marcos off her. She gasped and choked swears at Marcos, not for nearly killing her but for not having enough money to finance their weekend binge. Tony stared at her in disbelief, he didn’t see Marcos shaking off the hit and get to his feet.
Marcos was not a small man, about six foot and two-fifty, he used his full heft when he shoved Tony into the wall. He then went back to throttle his victim again. Tony had seen this type of behavior from the adults in his life before, but this time it was a bit more vicious. This time it was just a bit too much and this time something inside Tony snapped.
He ran out to the truck and grabbed the Colt. He hesitated a moment and admired the density and weight of the gun had in his hand.
It felt good.
He turned and walked into the house through the wide open front door. Marcos had resumed the beating but this time he was expecting Tony. He released the woman and came straight for him. Marcos knew his stepson wouldn’t pull the trigger, Tony knew it too. He intended to chamber a round dramatically to get him to stop and at least think about what was happening but before he could, Marcos knocked the gun from his hand. They both watched it sail behind the couch and hit the floor. It skidded heavily on the linoleum and into an unseen corner of the kitchen. Tony turned to look back at Marcos but instead of seeing his stepfather he saw the dull green luster of an immense marble ashtray coming to kiss him on the temple.
God he hated that they smoked in the house.
A flash of red, then white and Tony fell to the floor.
Deep and dizzying throbbing brought Tony back to reality. It was in his head, a strong rhythmic thud that slowly came to life in a mash up of pain, haze and nausea. He sat up blinking and his hand went instinctively to his head.
Damn.
There was a knot the size of a golf ball on his temple and it hurt bad. His senses returned and he realized the thudding in his head wasn’t the only one he heard. He looked around and surmised it was coming from the bathroom. He made his way to his feet. There in the corner the .45 lay where it had come to rest. He picked it up almost blacking out by bending down, only the pounding in his head kept him anchored to reality.
He walked down an orange strip of filthy shag carpet lining the hallway to the bathroom. All the while the sound grew louder, and more ominous, echoing in the small house. Tony pushed the door open with the barrel of the gun.
Aggressive and unrelenting realization spread over his body like fever.
Marcos was slamming Margo’s head into the bottom of the tub. Tony’s first inclination was to stop him, until he saw that Marcos had been here for a while, and he’d been busy. Blood was everywhere, it streamed down the shower wall, it pooled underneath her, Marcos was covered in it. His mother lie dead in a bath tub beaten to death by a man she chose to fill the void left by a husband God had taken from her and there was nothing he could do, he was too late. Tony looked away from the horror. He looked anywhere, at the floor, at the toilet and then at his hands and then at the gun, it was instinctive, he knew then what had to be done.
Tony moved without effort almost floating.
Without any conscious thought, the muscles in his legs pushed and pulled his body into the room. Taut bundles of red fiber brought the bones of his arm up and tensed the muscle of his trigger finger. Marcos, with a stupid look of surprise and fear turned and opened his mouth to scream but before he could Tony jammed the cold steel weapon into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
The Colt barked hot fire and lead justice into the head of that man.
A tepid and bloody spray blossomed on the white tile of the shower, a second coat of red on the already gruesome scene. Some of what had previously been Marcos’ brain splattered, soft and warm, on Tony’s face.
The pace of Tony’s breathing leveled out. He rubbed his fingers down his swollen brow then down his cheek. He looked at the remnants of brain and bone, rolling the little bits and pieces between his thumb and forefinger. It was done.
No going back.
********
The lightning and peal of thunder were simultaneous; the ground shook under the billowing, raucous midnight sky as clouds heaved and swirled; reaching into the night. It was coming down hard and fast and the lower lying areas near the horseshoe pits and the big BBQ smoker were flooding, the pool appeared to boil in the downpour. It had been raining like this for over an hour. Behind them the sound of something massive and heavy slammed into metal and it groaned under the strain. Sam jumped up to see what it was then looked back at his friend.
“Will you be okay?” he asked.
“I’m good as I can be, go see what it was, Sammy.” Tony never looked up as he spoke.
The monolithic trunk of an oak tree had washed down the creek and slammed into the barrier of the low water crossing on the opposite side of Sunshine Drive. The guardrail gave way and it barreled into the rail on the
other side, the tree trunk now blocked the road. The orange glow of the arc sodium street light reflected in the churning, foamy storm water. It rose around the log causing an immense wave to form in front of it. The old oak must have fallen into the creek before and the night’s rain broke it loose from its temporary resting place sending it downstream. Lee’s Creek was usually dry but even after a little rain it would swell and overtake the street creating a very dangerous situation. A black Impala came down the road and stopped to judge the severity of the condition. The road was impassable and Sam heard the transmission clunk into reverse illuminating the rain slicked street with backup lights. The long black car idled into the driveway of the pool that was situated just before the low water crossing and turned around in search of an alternate route.
Sam turned to report what he had seen when the sky went painfully white and immediately an otherworldly green as transformers blew simultaneously around the neighborhood. He covered his ears as the thunder exploded through the night. The orange street light went dark and all was quiet save the roar of the water around the oak tree that blocked the street and the constant pounding of the rain.
In the street the guardrail buckled under the weight of oak and water. The tree trunk was free to travel down the creek clearing the street.
The headlights of another car played through the honeysuckle that hid the pool from view as it
Back Then
The patio at the pool was covered by corrugated metal. It wasn’t the best place to be during a thunderstorm, a fact not lost on Sam but it didn’t seem they were going to be leaving anytime soon so he tried to relax. The snare drum raindrops on the metal roof steadily evolved into a barrage of bullets fired from the clouds. The lightning and thunder, shells fired from some far off celestial artillery
“Why should I even care about her Sam? Why?”
The sudden burst snapped Sam out of his rain induced lull.
“She…when dad died she died too. Not right after, but you weren’t there man. You didn’t see her change like that. My mom was a fucking junkie man, a fucking drugged up…” The shouted, and sobbed words poured painfully from his friend. “My mom you hear me, my mother turned into this. When she.” Tony stopped his thought mid sentence.
Sam straightened up, he didn’t catch it at first, but he replayed what was said and he thought he heard Tony say his mom WAS a junkie, but shouldn’t he have said she IS a junkie, the way one references the living?
Tony sensed Sam make the connection and put the gun back under his chin. Tony was receding like the tide, and Bully was rearing his ugly fish-eyed head again.
“What Sammy? You think it, right? My best friend right?” asked Tony through that same Cheshire grin but this time it was twisted and pained. To Sam it was teetering on the brink of frightening.
“You think I did it? You? My best friend, you think I did it? You think I killed her?”
Tony explained what brought him there that night.
It wasn’t at all what Sam had expected.
How Tony Arrived at the Pool
After feasting on Whataburger and dropping Sam off at home (minus his bike), Tony reluctantly turned toward home. That weekend he would have the house to himself for at least a couple of days while his parents binged for the weekend. He realized he was mistaken when he turned the corner onto his street. He saw his mom’s car in the driveway, passenger and driver side doors ajar, and as he pulled into the driveway he heard the engine running.
Mr. Sosa, the neighbor, was on his porch in his boxers and a robe. He shook his head disapprovingly as Tony got closer.
“They are fighting pretty bad, I was going to call the police but…”
“That’s okay Mr. Sosa I’ll take it from here, I think I hear your wife calling you.” Tony smiled awkwardly and tried to lend some sense of normalcy to the scene. It was a scene becoming increasingly common and steadily more violent.
They both flinched as something heavy and fast moving crashed inside the house.
The last time Tony ever opened the front door of the home his mother and father bought the month he was born, he found Marcos on top of his mother strangling her. He saw her eyes roll back and her tongue slowly protrude further and further from her blue lips. Tony lunged and knocked Marcos off her. She gasped and choked swears at Marcos, not for nearly killing her but for not having enough money to finance their weekend binge. Tony stared at her in disbelief, he didn’t see Marcos shaking off the hit and get to his feet.
Marcos was not a small man, about six foot and two-fifty, he used his full heft when he shoved Tony into the wall. He then went back to throttle his victim again. Tony had seen this type of behavior from the adults in his life before, but this time it was a bit more vicious. This time it was just a bit too much and this time something inside Tony snapped.
He ran out to the truck and grabbed the Colt. He hesitated a moment and admired the density and weight of the gun had in his hand.
It felt good.
He turned and walked into the house through the wide open front door. Marcos had resumed the beating but this time he was expecting Tony. He released the woman and came straight for him. Marcos knew his stepson wouldn’t pull the trigger, Tony knew it too. He intended to chamber a round dramatically to get him to stop and at least think about what was happening but before he could, Marcos knocked the gun from his hand. They both watched it sail behind the couch and hit the floor. It skidded heavily on the linoleum and into an unseen corner of the kitchen. Tony turned to look back at Marcos but instead of seeing his stepfather he saw the dull green luster of an immense marble ashtray coming to kiss him on the temple.
God he hated that they smoked in the house.
A flash of red, then white and Tony fell to the floor.
Deep and dizzying throbbing brought Tony back to reality. It was in his head, a strong rhythmic thud that slowly came to life in a mash up of pain, haze and nausea. He sat up blinking and his hand went instinctively to his head.
Damn.
There was a knot the size of a golf ball on his temple and it hurt bad. His senses returned and he realized the thudding in his head wasn’t the only one he heard. He looked around and surmised it was coming from the bathroom. He made his way to his feet. There in the corner the .45 lay where it had come to rest. He picked it up almost blacking out by bending down, only the pounding in his head kept him anchored to reality.
He walked down an orange strip of filthy shag carpet lining the hallway to the bathroom. All the while the sound grew louder, and more ominous, echoing in the small house. Tony pushed the door open with the barrel of the gun.
Aggressive and unrelenting realization spread over his body like fever.
Marcos was slamming Margo’s head into the bottom of the tub. Tony’s first inclination was to stop him, until he saw that Marcos had been here for a while, and he’d been busy. Blood was everywhere, it streamed down the shower wall, it pooled underneath her, Marcos was covered in it. His mother lie dead in a bath tub beaten to death by a man she chose to fill the void left by a husband God had taken from her and there was nothing he could do, he was too late. Tony looked away from the horror. He looked anywhere, at the floor, at the toilet and then at his hands and then at the gun, it was instinctive, he knew then what had to be done.
Tony moved without effort almost floating.
Without any conscious thought, the muscles in his legs pushed and pulled his body into the room. Taut bundles of red fiber brought the bones of his arm up and tensed the muscle of his trigger finger. Marcos, with a stupid look of surprise and fear turned and opened his mouth to scream but before he could Tony jammed the cold steel weapon into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
The Colt barked hot fire and lead justice into the head of that man.
A tepid and bloody spray blossomed on the white tile of the shower, a second coat of red on the already gruesome scene. Some of what had previously been Marcos’ brain splattered, soft and warm, on Tony’s face.
The pace of Tony’s breathing leveled out. He rubbed his fingers down his swollen brow then down his cheek. He looked at the remnants of brain and bone, rolling the little bits and pieces between his thumb and forefinger. It was done.
No going back.
********
The lightning and peal of thunder were simultaneous; the ground shook under the billowing, raucous midnight sky as clouds heaved and swirled; reaching into the night. It was coming down hard and fast and the lower lying areas near the horseshoe pits and the big BBQ smoker were flooding, the pool appeared to boil in the downpour. It had been raining like this for over an hour. Behind them the sound of something massive and heavy slammed into metal and it groaned under the strain. Sam jumped up to see what it was then looked back at his friend.
“Will you be okay?” he asked.
“I’m good as I can be, go see what it was, Sammy.” Tony never looked up as he spoke.
The monolithic trunk of an oak tree had washed down the creek and slammed into the barrier of the low water crossing on the opposite side of Sunshine Drive. The guardrail gave way and it barreled into the rail on the
other side, the tree trunk now blocked the road. The orange glow of the arc sodium street light reflected in the churning, foamy storm water. It rose around the log causing an immense wave to form in front of it. The old oak must have fallen into the creek before and the night’s rain broke it loose from its temporary resting place sending it downstream. Lee’s Creek was usually dry but even after a little rain it would swell and overtake the street creating a very dangerous situation. A black Impala came down the road and stopped to judge the severity of the condition. The road was impassable and Sam heard the transmission clunk into reverse illuminating the rain slicked street with backup lights. The long black car idled into the driveway of the pool that was situated just before the low water crossing and turned around in search of an alternate route.
Sam turned to report what he had seen when the sky went painfully white and immediately an otherworldly green as transformers blew simultaneously around the neighborhood. He covered his ears as the thunder exploded through the night. The orange street light went dark and all was quiet save the roar of the water around the oak tree that blocked the street and the constant pounding of the rain.
In the street the guardrail buckled under the weight of oak and water. The tree trunk was free to travel down the creek clearing the street.
The headlights of another car played through the honeysuckle that hid the pool from view as it
