The car where the man and girl sat was red.
It was parked at the only open bar around for twenty miles, and looked out over a small corner of quaint shops and restaurants. In fact, the entire New England town was quaint and small, but still, it managed to be busy around 7:30. People bustled in and out of stores, looking like commandos on a mission. They barely spoke to each other, and yet, sounds emerged from all over: Laughing, coughing, small talk in countless places. People with big lives, and people who lived simple and happy- they all congregated on this spot every Friday night to meet and have a good time.
The girl sat next to the man on his old Chrysler Intrepid, watching the hubbub. They spoke often, creating a small atmosphere of solidarity in the midst of the impersonal noise. Four men watched them from afar, but the two sat, facing the crowd, ignoring their stares.
“Look at that one! He’s carrying four mugs and already looks too drunk to stand!”
“I bet he’ll drop it in a second-”
“No! He made it!” The man laughed, holding his knees and rocking back on the hood.
“Look at her! She’s got three men listening to her.”
“Can you hear what she’s saying?”
“No, but it’s probably good, because they don’t notice the guy taking their stuff behind them.” The girl giggled, and looked at the man. “You’re not laughing! I love it when you laugh.”
“Well, I remembered something, and got all serious again. I’m sorry.”
“Dad…”
“Never mind, sweetie. Look at that one!” He pointed to the door of the Pizza and Sandwiches, which opened to allow a stumbling man, with a woman on his arm, to emerge. He swayed on his heels, and almost fell over. “It’s the mayor!” The man said, squinting.
His daughter gasped, and looked at the woman. “And his wife. Are they both drunk?”
“Looks like it. Watch…he’s going to say something to the crowd.”
The mayor managed to walk over to the crowd at the bar, and sat his wife down on a bench. He then lifted a foot onto the seat and hauled himself up, holding onto a lightpost for support. The bench was situated on the edge of a square, where most of the revelers sat, drinking and getting louder with each glass. The outdoor bar had moved in a month ago, and obviously hadn’t lost its originality for people. The mayor grabbed an empty glass and smashed it on the ground. At the same time, he yelled, “Quiet! I’m gonna speak!”
Most eyes turned and mouths ceased moving. Those who didn’t stop were soon shushed by others around them.
The mayor lifted his hands to his head, and then blinked. A woman laughed suddenly. He nodded to her. “Ma’am.” She giggled. “I’m standing here tonight to wish you all a very happy Midsummer’s Eve!” The crowd cheered, and the mayor grinned like a tomcat. Those who had hats threw them in the air, and then scrambled backwards to find them on the ground or in another’s hand.
The man on the car whispered to his daughter. “Don’t say anything, sweetie. Okay? I’ll talk to him if I have to.”
The mayor continued. “As you all know, the two people on the car behind me are being held for disturbing the peace.” The crowd murmured, glaring at the pair seated, legs crossed, on the hood. “So, in order to please all of you, and to carry on an age-long tradition, I’ll be handing over their punishment to you.”
They went wild then, cheering and laughing and knocking each other down, on their way towards the car. The four men who were stationed behind the prisoners grabbed the pair off the hood. The father lost his balance and fell across one of the thugs. He saw a holster, grabbed it, and smashed the big man in the face with it. Yanking the gun out, he stood quickly and ran to the other side of the vehicle, cocking back and aiming at the two big men gripping his daughter.
“Drop her now.”
They dropped her, and then reached for their guns. He shot them both; one in the arm, and the other in the chest. Down they went, and he grabbed his daughter and pulled her back.
All this happened while the feverish crowd was running towards the Intrepid. When both men fell with bullet holes in them, they stopped, and a hush fell over them. The remaining thug stood from where he was hiding and ran. The mayor was the only bold one, and stepped past the crowd and yelled at the man, backing up with gun pointed, holding his daughter behind him.
“What are you doing, James? How could you ruin a holiday like this?”
James walked backwards as he answered. “This isn’t a holiday! This is a cultish religion! It’s sick! And I won’t be a part of it! Now stay away, or I’ll keep shooting!”
Two shots rang out, and James fell, clutching his side. A young man, sober enough to aim, had taken one of the wounded henchmen’s pistols and lined up. Now he joined the rest of the crowd as they rushed the man and his daughter in the street. The daughter screamed and tried to run. James continued to shoot into the mob until his clip ran out, making six more fall either wounded or dead, but still they came on, yelling like crazed savages.
They grabbed them both, and carried them towards the car. A few rolled it out into the street, while the rest opened the doors and locked them inside, smashing the locks and breaking the handles. One man poured lighter fluid on the carpet, then beckoned the mayor. Drunk as he was, the mayor walked as straight as any sober man, taking out his lighter as he went. Without hesitation, he lit the fluid in the car, and slammed the door. James’s daughter, sobbing in the backseat over her father, began to scream, but no one heard her through the windows and over the chanting as the crowd stood, faces lit by the flames, worshiping their beastly gods.
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