Jigsaw World by JD Lovil Page A

the
ignition, starting the engine of the RV. A loud bang at the door
was the instant result, the noise a good five times as loud as the
previous ones.
    Tom rolled down his driver’s side window, and
looked down the camper to where four juvenile boys where whacking
away at the door with tire irons and a two by four piece of lumber.
Tom leaned out of the window, and carefully sighted down the RV at
the four with the pistol. He squeezed the trigger twice and watched
in satisfaction as one of the boys dropped to the ground. The other
boys seemed to be only peripherally aware of the death of their
friend, or perhaps they were unconcerned. Tom emptied the rest of
the clip into their midst, bringing down two more of the boys, and
motivating the final boy to leave.
    Tom put the RV into gear and gunned the
engine. As the boy ran past the front of the RV, Tom popped the
clutch, causing the big vehicle to surge forward and over the final
boy. Feeling the satisfying bump of the boy’s body under the
vehicle, Tom grinned and drove the vehicle to the exit road of the
rest stop and out.
    George seemed a little disturbed by recent
actions, though not nearly as much so as Tom feared. Whatever
mental trouble George had with it, he shook it off rapidly, and the
RV made its way back onto the interstate and aimed itself at the
big unknown town of Elkskull.
     
     
    ******
     
     

6 Summoning the Great Old
One

    Tom eased the RV into a parking space beside
the Walmart. George, Bailey and Tom tumbled out of the vehicle, and
stretched their legs in the short walk to the entrance. At the
door, Tom was dismayed to see a closed sign, and a couple of
employees talking to each other behind the locked door while
ignoring the trio.
    “ Welcome to the beautiful Texas
city of Elkskull!” George proclaimed. “Where even 24 hour Walmart
Superstores close at sundown.” The three of them turned around and
started back to the RV.
    They got back to the vehicle, and resumed
their seats. “Let’s go down the road a ways, and find someplace to
camp out for the night.” Tom said. With all in general agreement,
in five minutes they were bumping down a side road the promised to
lead them to a secluded spot. Bailey began to stare out of the
window with excited anticipation.
    The RV turned a corner while topping a small
hill and the vista before the travelers was that of an ocean
tossing seaweeds and hapless shell fish upon the shore of its cold
body of water. Several sea gulls wheeled and screeched in the
background. The air was filled with the smell of cold salt water, a
scent like rotting fruit and the unmistakable smell of
fish.
    “ Someone misplaced the Atlantic
ocean. It should be almost two thousand miles to the east of us,
and from the feel of things, maybe 1500 miles north of that.” Tom
said. “Any ideas?”
    “ Just another mutation of the real
world by these ‘events’.” George said. “This sure looks like the
Northern Atlantic shore. So it is three thousand miles or so out of
pocket. It is just par for the course on a trip where the roads are
three times too long.”
    Bailey had taken the opportunity to
investigate the terminal beaching of several aquatic life forms,
including one crab that was far too diffident about making its way
back into the surf after being beached by the tide. A chorus of
happy barks and wagging tail signaled that the dog was content with
the current location.
    Looking about, the rocky beach and the moonlit
scene of the out of place ocean promised to be a comfortable
camping location. The RV would be the backdrop and resource center
for the campers, and a small manipulation of rock positions was
sufficient to create a fire circle, and with a moment’s work, they
had a campfire setting the ambiance.
    Bailey started to bring Tom and George things;
He brought shells, and he brought sticks, he brought rocks, and one
time, he brought a finger. Tom was hard-put to solve the mystery of
that last item. He finally decided