Flash Master 005: "What Ever Happened to Summerville Part 4

What Ever Happened to Summerville Part IV - “Dinner with Mr. Mayor”

Mayor Campbell mopped his round face with a handkerchief and looked out the small,
half submerged windows of his basement. It was hot down there and he had stripped to
his tee-shirt though he still had on his suspenders, slacks and dress shoes. He checked
that the shotgun he was carrying was loaded for about the thousandth time and renewed
his pacing from the steam furnace to the wringer washing machine and back. There was
something crazy going on in town. He didn’t know what. There were reports of fires
and murders and some sort of monsters. He hadn’t believed the any of it, least of all the
bit about monsters until Sheriff Nelson had called saying he’d seen one in person. That
was six hours ago. No one had heard from Nelson since, although there had been a
report his squad car was driving itself around downtown trying to run people over.

The door to the basement opened and he turned quickly, pointing his shotgun up the
steps. His wife was standing at the top. She was pleasant looking and fiftyish wearing
a, very typical for her, floral print dress.

“Henry. Are you going to stay down there all night?”

He lowered the gun half-disgustedly. “Burnadette, I told you. The city is under attack.
We’re safer down here.”

“Oh,” she asked interestedly. “Is it the commies?”

“No.” He growled around his jowls. “It’s some kind of demon monster things. Will
you please close that door?”

Burnadette stood at the top of the stairs unmoving. “You’re going to miss Ed Sullivan.”
She said finally.

“I don’t give a damn about Ed Sullivan!” Henry bellowed.

Burnadette put her hand on her hip and sighed. “Well fine then. Shall I bring you
dinner down there?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Bunadette turned on her heel and walked out, closing the door.

Henry paced some more. Why wouldn’t anyone call? Wasn’t he the mayor? Wasn’t he
supposed to be in the middle of things?

His musings were interrupted when the window behind him crashed open. He whirled
and found a tall, gray demon had appeared. It seemed much too large to have come
through the tiny window but there it was. While Henry gaped at it, the monster took the
shotgun from him and broke it, casually, in half. Henry noticed that, while scaled, the
beast had a series of round scars that ran across its chest and up one wing.

“Good evening.” The creature said, slurring very slightly because of its great number of
teeth. “I’m Grvix. I take it that you are the mayor?”

Henry stood for a second with several of his chins wagging freely. “Um. No. I’m not
the mayor. I’m...uh...the butcher.”

“Really.” Grvix said, raising an eyebrow in a way that looked uncannily like a snake
rising to strike. “I have it from several sources that the mayor lives here.”

“Oh, well. I’m just here delivering meat.”

“That’s too bad.” Grvix said, examining the room. “I’ve been locked in a crypt for the
last several centuries, you understand.”

Henry nodded as if this were perfectly understandable.

“So I’m a little out of touch. But I think it is probably still the best policy to kill the
leaders first. Don’t you agree?”

Henry made a complex set of hand gestures that seemed to indicate that he felt killing
leaders was a mixed bag at best.

Before the conversation could go any further the basement door opened and Burnadette
came down the stairs carrying a tray with a plate and a bottle of beer on it. “Oh,” she
said when she saw Grvix. “I didn’t know Henry was expecting a guest.”

Henry made another set of hand gestures that may have been recommending Burnadette
learn how to fly or that she herself was a bat. He also turned a sort of purple color.

“I’m Burnadette.” Burnadette said, putting the tray on a side table and offering her
hand to Grvix.

Henry made an “Ulp!” noise and shut his eyes but Grvix just shook her hand with his
claw. “Grvix at your service.”

“Grvix? That’s an interesting name. Is it European?”

Grvix looked at Henry who was holding his breath and gesturing toward the foot of the
stairs with a little shooing gesture.

“Why yes.” Grvix went on. “It was given to me by the mad wizard Halgan a millenia
ago in what is now Romania.”

“Oh that’s nice.” Burnadette nodded to Henry as if he might agree. Henry didn’t nod.
His head did wobble in a dangerous ‘I might just fall right off’ sort of way. “And what
are you doing in Summerville?”

“I’m going to destroy it.” Grvix said, matter of factly.

Burnadette pursed her lips and thought this over. “Well, we’re having pot roast. Would
you like some?”

Henry made a sound as if he’d sprung a small leak.

Grvix smiled a smile that wasn’t too convincing because his teeth got in the way of his
lips. “Yes, thank you.”

Burnadette turned and was going back up the stairs when Grvix stopped her. “Oh
Madam Mayor?”

Burnadette turned. “Yes?”

“It was lovely meeting you.”

“Well, thanks and same to you.” Burnadette was gone upstairs.

Grvix turned to Henry. “Lovely woman.” He said.

Henry swallowed hard. “But not too bright.”

Grvix laughed lightly.

A few minutes later Burnadette came back downstairs carrying another tray. Grvix was
gone and Henry was slumped over the washing machine.

“Oh Henry.” She complained. “That’s full of clean clothes. Don’t bleed in there.”

Flash Master 002: "Fog"

James and Annette Burgess were not speaking to each other as they rode along through the thick fog.

James drummed his fingers on the leather wrapped steering wheel in a manner more or less designed to annoy Annette. They were on their way home from a dinner party and, as usual James had refused to leave until Annette was furious.

For Annette’s part, she was stretched across the cream colored, leather seat looking uncomfortable and clutching at her purse. Jim’s little chat was going to going to cost them twenty dollars with the baby sitter and the sitter had been threatening to quit if

they didn’t start showing up on time.

Outside the yellow Crown Victoria, the white walled tires crunched their way down wet, fog shrouded streets. The fog was thick and still, rolling in off the bay with a sound like a muted stereo.

The windshield wipers clacked back and forth intermittently. Jim stopped his drumming to flip on his blinker. The fog was so thick that the air on the front left of the car lit up yellow but the road wasn’t revealed. A white wooden sign, barely visible,

indicated they were turning onto Bay Shore Drive. For once, Bay Shore Drive really led down along the shore of the bay. In better weather it was a beautiful ride with the beach on the right and a gently sloping cliff face on the left.

They had been driving down Bay Shore for about three minutes when the car ground to a halt.

“What happened?” Annette asked, sitting up.

“I don’t know.” Jim turned the ignition but the car was already running. He stepped on the gas. The car moved forward a few feet but then stopped again after a quick squealing of tires.

“Did we hit something?” Annette asked, peering into the fog over the dashboard.

“I don’t think so. Wait here.” Jim stepped out of the car leaving the door open so that the dome lights would be on and inadvertently giving free reign to the bonger that bonged whenever the door was open.

He noticed immediately that the front end of the car was set much lower than the rear.  As he moved toward the front, he found he was moving through fog so thick it was heavy and hard to push through. Just as he was reaching the front of the car, struggling

against the weight of the fog, the grill popped out of the Crown Victoria and clattered to the ground. A second later the right head light shattered.

“Holy...” Jim turned and practically swam back to the car door as the shocks groaned and the front end of the car settled toward the ground.

“What is it?” Annette asked as he dove back into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know Anne, some kind of fog.” Jim answered, slamming the car into reverse and mashing the gas pedal.

“Fog?” Anne asked as the rear wheels whined on the pavement.

Jim threw his door open again and watched his rear tires spin helplessly under the weight on the front end. “Yeah. It’s some kind of super dense fog or something.” The left headlight shattered leaving them with only the running lights in front. “Come on,

we’ve got to get out of here.” He grabbed his briefcase out of the back seat and climbed back out into the night. The fog had grown so thick that it pushed his head and shoulders down making him walk like a hunchback.

“Jim. I am not getting out of this car until you explain to me just what the hell is going on.”

The paint on the hood was flying off in spidery lines as the metal was pressed down into the underlying supports. The left front tire popped.

Jim stuck his head back in the door. The bonger was still bonging. “For the love of God Anne, just get out of the car.”

“Jim, I am...” The windshield shattered showering Anne with glass and the dashboard collapsed pinning her legs. She screamed hysterically.

“Hold on honey.” Jim shuffled around the back end of the car under the oppressive weight. He found his wife’s door had popped open but that she was stuck firmly in her seat.

“Oh Jim.” She cried. “It hurts. Get me out of here Jim.”

“O.K. honey, just hold on.” He said, but before he could do anything, the entire roof of the car collapsed down on Anne who screamed briefly and then fell silent. 


Looking down on the destroyed roof of his car, he could see the outline of Anne’s head and shoulder’s pressed into the metal.

“Oh, lord. Oh, lord.” He mumbled, shuffling back away from the car. The weight was so massive and the air so hard to breath that all he could think was to get away. Within seconds he was lost in the fog with only the bonging of the door to give him any sense

of direction. He tried to move away from it.

In a few seconds, he fell off the road and found himself at the opening to a culvert. He slid into it feet first and found that ridiculously, he still had his brief case with him.

“I’m going to be O.K..” He mumbled to himself. “It’s just some freaky fog. It’s not like it’s looking for me or anything. Right? Right.”

He realized suddenly that he couldn’t hear the car bonging anymore. Looking up, he saw that the entry to the culvert had been obscured by the fog. Looking over his shoulder the far end was out of sight as well. The culvert was slowly filling with a very

thick fog.