Interlude–Ramona Part Two

“What’s going on over there, Paul?” the voice on the radio called out. The voice had been asking about the misplaced mayor for several hours, but now it asked only about the loud booming in the distance and the commotion of crowds.

Paul, who stood and watched, did not know what was going on. He was merely going about his day when, for no particular reason, he ran across the Centennial Celebration at high speed, pushed the festivity goers out of his way, and stood at the edge of a large circle of people who were focused solely on a ranting, screaming woman who called herself Lillian Geist.

But that wasn’t possible. The Geists were dead. After the death of Jedediah Geist the day before, all of them were gone.

Lillian, Lillian, he thought. Which one was that? Oh, right, the beauty queen. The one who had broken her opponent’s leg in order to get the crown. How was he supposed to know if this really was her? She was wearing a mask of some kind, maybe prosthetics. It wasn’t easy to keep the peace on the anniversary with all of the costumes.

Paul needed to step up and bring calm and order to the situation.

Except he didn’t.

But why not? Was he scared? No, no, that didn’t work. Paul was a larger guy. He wouldn’t be afraid. Maybe he was just assessing the situation. Yes, that could be it—no need to rush things. The woman did not appear to be in danger or have any wounds to be attended to. He could merely assess the situation and stay where he was. At some point, though, he would have to step forward and get things under control. He held one hand on his pistol and the other on his radio, ready for action.

He never actually did intervene. There was no telling why. In some strange way, he felt he was on his mark, right where he was supposed to be.

Even as the young woman next to the alleged Lillian Geist pleaded with the crowd to help, Paul never left his mark.

An explosion in the distance. No, not an explosion. It was the sound of a large structure breaking all at once.

Paul turned to see what it was.

“Oh, god,” he said into his radio, the first thing he had said into it since running over here.

The Ferris wheel broke loose.

At that moment, everyone in the park started to panic. The concerned citizens and looky-loos lost all interest in that desperate woman who called herself Lillian Geist, all of them, except for the young woman with the red streak in her hair.

Officer Paul stood his ground. He found himself yelling at people not to panic and to proceed in an orderly fashion toward the exit as the Ferris wheel started to roll freely into other park rides, knocking them loose from their fastenings and causing them to collapse.

The people, of course, ignored his warnings. They ran and pushed and shoved without a care for the safety of those around them. Mothers took their children into their arms and ran, leaving strollers and purses behind. Teenagers temporarily left their rebellious phases and cried for help as they were pushed against guard rails and all manner of obstacles.

Still, Paul, having found the place he was meant to stand, held his ground, waving people around as needed. Paul was a large man, after all, and his blue uniform was visible. He eventually managed to bring some semblance of order to the egress, as much as could be allowed.

The woman, Lillian, still lay collapsed on the ground. The young woman, whose name he didn’t know, tried to help her against the advice of her sister and bandmate. Paul didn’t know how those people were related to her, of course. Paul was a local policeman, but he didn’t know everyone.

He only knew what he needed to know, and right now, he didn’t have reason or explanation to know that Phoebe and Tony were desperately trying to get the nameless woman away from Lillian Geist. Those thoughts slid through his mind without making purchase.

Eventually, the crowds cleared, and Paul could see one of the many things that people were running from.

It was a man.

Was.

Paul froze, not because some cosmic script had told him to. He was actually that afraid of what he was looking at.

The man was even bigger than Paul. He was well-built, and he was rebuilt with rusting metal that must have been poured onto his skin while still molten. The metal enveloped his torso and arms, creating jagged teeth that cut and poked the man as he walked.

The left half of the man’s face was burnt or gone, one of the first casualties of whatever accident had befallen him. Metal held firm to the man’s empty left eye socket and cheekbones. It engrossed and encased his jaw on that side of his face.

Paul feared for his life and the lives of those around him.

Still, he did not leave his mark.

“Sir,” he said, “I’m going to have to ask you to put down the metal strut.”

Was it a strut? Paul couldn’t be sure. It looked like… It looked like it had come right off of the Ferris wheel. The color of the metal, the shape… But that wasn’t possible because this metal was rusted to a sharp point. The Ferris wheel had looked practically new.

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The man did not answer.

Paul looked in the distance and saw a trail of bloody corpses. He had not noticed how they had gotten there in the commotion, but he knew enough now. Blood dripped from the man’s makeshift weapon.

“I need backup near the haunted house and the funnel cake kiosk on the west end,” he said.

And that was the last thing he ever said.

On the script, he was supposed to cry for his wife, but as the jagged, rusty piece of metal pierced his torso under his ribcage and exited up near his collarbone, he didn’t say anything at all.

His last thoughts were of his wife, though. And, in the mess that was his dying lamentations, he wondered to himself for the last time but not the first, “Why did I even come here?”

~-~

Ramona tried to peel the poor woman off the ground, but the woman wasn’t helping at all. She had given up.

“Have I seen him before?” Lillian asked, dazed. “No, but surely I’ve felt him. Can you feel the sinking feeling?”

Ramona paused her efforts to help the woman and considered this. She looked back at the man covered in rusted metal and realized she felt a sinking feeling as if there was no hope.

“You’re just scared,” she lied. “We’re going to be okay. We’ll get you—”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the police officer get skewered by the strange man.

She screamed.

“Let’s go,” Phoebe said, “We can go now, I promise.”

“Shh,” Tony scolded Phoebe, who had said too much.

Unlike the ill-fated Officer Paul, they knew exactly why they were standing in those very spots.

Ramona relented.

She couldn’t get Lillian off the ground. The woman was heavier than she looked.

What was Ramona supposed to do?

She decided to stand and make a run for it, but as she tried, the strap around her neck held firm. Lillian was holding onto her guitar bag.

“Let go!” Phoebe screamed at Lillian.

Lillian didn’t let go. Instead, as Ramona tried to free herself from the grasp of the woman, Lillian looked her in the eye and said, “Maybe this is the only way out.”