Previously on RUNNER RAMIREZ & THE RACETRACK FROM HELL…
Posing as a couple of Frankie Sanchez’s goons, Runner and Fairweather plant a little explosive at the large Florida horsetrack with the hopes that its owner, Clyde Bohannon, would call for a meeting. They further hoped Bohannon would have his summoner bring forth Azrael to exact his vengeance. When that exact event came into being the boys had to be ready to stop the summoner and his demon once and for all.
And now…
Runner Ramirez & the Racetrack from Hell
By Tyler Tarlton
Chapter 11
I wanted to watch but I had my own battle to wage. I shifted my attention back to the table. I saw Clyde raise one hand in the direction of the possessed man. He cracked his knuckles and moved forward.
Frankie knew something was up as soon as Clyde's men backed away from the table. He yelled for his guys to move but it was too late. With supernatural speed the possessed man slammed into the closest guy as he drew his gun. The contact discharged the firearm and sent the man flying. Then all hell broke loose. And I mean that somewhat literally.
This was my cue. I felt the heat build within and I charged from my position. As I ran through the woods I saw Clyde's thugs retreat to a safe spot to watch the chaos. I'd have to keep an eye on them; I didn't think they would enter the fray but my appearance would be unexpected and could trigger itchy fingers. Demon power couldn't really stop a bullet.
I focused back near the table and saw a pile of thugs atop the possessed man. He roared and threw them in all directions. One flew toward me; I caught him in mid-stride and tossed him back into the possessed man. They both toppled to the ground. I kept running and reached the possessed man as he shoved the thug aside and stood. I let loose with a haymaker. The punch connected and managed to send the man to the ground. He did not seem damaged in any way however. The man popped right back to his feet and smiled. We squared off; as we did he looked me up and down.
"You're one of us..." he growled. "Who are you?"
I did not answer but waited for my 'friend' to tell me what to do. It was a tricky subject; there’s no way we could destroy Azrael, just send him back to hell. There he could report on whom he had encountered. That was dangerous to my 'friend', and me, as it could point those hunting him in the right direction. Then again, demons fought each other all the time, there was nothing to point to my 'friend' as a runaway in this instance. But as a precaution, the shocks down my back indicated that I stay silent on the matter.
"They call me Runner," I finally said. "And guess what? I'm your end..."
Most people would say that intentionally antagonizing a demon would not be a good idea, cheesy as the line may be. And those people would be right. Oh well. The man, or more accurately, Azrael, growled and charged.
As I mention before my 'friend' can give me extraordinary amounts of strength and speed, but it is but a fraction of that possible for a fully possessed man. That meant I had to rely on my mind and technique more than anything else. Fortunately, demons are more anger and rage then mind.
The fight started off as a loop of him making wild punches in my direction as I dodged them. About once each cycle I managed to slip inside with a good body blow. It did little more than serve to make him madder, however. I didn't really have to hurt him or even win the fight, just distract him and then get him in position for Fairweather to do his thing.
I ducked under another punch and managed to grab a chair knocked over earlier. I slammed it into Azrael's face (I'm just going to call him that for now since that's pretty much who the guy is at this point). He stumbled to the side; I followed with another chair hit and then a hard kick that sent him over the table. I had a short reprieve, so I spun to see Clyde's guys pulling him toward their cars. The look in his eye was one of pending doom; he knew the demon was his meal ticket with all his promises going up in flames. I swung my gaze to the Summoner's cabin but did not see him or Fairweather. I hoped the kid was still alive.
My popped a dozen times as Azrael slammed into me from behind. He drove me to the ground and unleashed several hard blows to the back of my head. A reward for taking me eye off a demon. It didn't hurt in the moment, but boy would it hurt later. By the fourth punch I was starting to get a little foggy. I had to get out of there and fast.
I waited for him to cock back for another blow and rolled to my left. As I did, I swung my right fist in a wide arc which allowed the back of it to connect with Azrael's face. Right after I pulled my leg and dropped the heal of my boot on the same spot. A loud, satisfying crunch gave me a brief smile.
I could not rest, however. With the heat in my body growing even hotter I flipped to my feet and launched a knee into Azrael's face. As soon as he hit the ground I dropped atop him, first with both knees to the chest and then with a series of blows. Had to keep him unfocused and off-balance. I hit him with a particularly hard right when he roared and pushed upward with both hands. I flew back and up, all the way to the cabin, crashing into it. Had I been closer I would've gone right through the wall. I let out a breath and stood. Despite the help, I was getting pretty worn out. I could feel the added strength starting to drain as well. I looked up to see Azrael sauntering over. Neither Clyde nor any other thug was in sight.
"Such weakness..." he snarled. "Why inhabit a body if you don't control it?"
I had no answer, so I stayed silent.
"Get him stationary," I heard Fairweather say from somewhere behind the wall at my back. "I'll need 20 seconds."
The kid had survived. I was impressed. Of course he probably didn't realize how long 20 seconds could last while tangling with a demon. I now had to figure out how to incapacitate a possessed man for all of that time. My mind raced as I looked around.
There wasn't much in the area aside from the torches, the broken table, and the chairs, none of which would do me any good. The demon was getting closer when a glint of metal through the trees to my right caught my attention. I felt warmth in my face as my vision sharpened. I looked like...an anchor. Beyond appeared to be various piece of a boat. We were near a swamp, so such a sight was common. And just happened to represent my one and only chance. My 'friend' recognized this as well and poured energy into my legs. I took off at a dead sprint, flying past the startled Azrael.
"Think you can outrun me??" he yelled as he took off after me in pursuit.
I ran with all I had and then some. As I drew closer the anchor came more sharply into view. It was BIG. Not sure how one of that size got into a swamp but right now that didn't matter. It was going to take a lot to do what I had in mind. The thing sat wedged between two trees angled a slight bit away from me. I increased my speed and now felt a hotter heat in my upper body. I felt like a Greek god.
But Azrael was gaining. I could almost feel his breath on my neck. I got within a few feet of the two trees and leaped like an Olympic long jumper. My legs connected with both trees and I let my knees fold to absorb my momentum. I then grabbed the anchor and pulled as I pushed back off the trunks with all my might. The chunk of metal broke free and went backwards. I arched my spine and brought the anchor up and above my head. Which put it right into the path of the onrushing Azrael. The anchor connected with tremendous impact against the possessed man's head, knocking him to the ground. The blow would've killed him instantly had he not been possessed. The man might still die once the demon left him however.
I hit the ground as well. I quickly rolled onto my stomach and saw that the possessed man was conscious but was very dazed with little movement. I knew that wouldn't last long.
"Fairweather!!" I yelled as I grabbed the anchor and shoved the narrower end between Azrael's legs, using the hooks to pin him down. "You better hurry!"
A second later Fairweather slid to a stop beside me. He already had his crucifix in one hand and a Bible in the other.
"Whoa!" he said, eyes wide. "How-"
"No time! Do it!!"
With a nod he stepped over the possessed man and extended the cross. He recited a string of Latin phrases in a surprisingly steady and strong voice. I guessed that he was getting help from a much different friend. As he started the third phrase the possessed man began to shake. The anchor flew past me and Fairweather, its force knocking both of us to the ground. Ol' Azrael was fighting back.
It's all come down to this! One more chapter to go! Will Runner and Fairweather survive the day? Join us next week for chapter 12 and our thrilling conclusion!