The Worst Summer of My Life

God Damn It, Kyle

"Stacy!" I called. We rushed down Arcade Alley. We hadn't seen her double back, so we were hoping to find her hiding in a game booth. "Stacy! Where are you?"

I wasn't sure if she could hear us over the sirens and chaos all over the park. Gunshots rang out somewhere off towards the Log Flume, which made me hope Kyle actually made it and the military were on their way to help him banish The Scourge. Or maybe some park attendees were packing heat. Either way, I hoped more Envoys were dying, because fuck those things, they still haunt my nightmares. Without the book attracting them, we could at least relax a little and search thoroughly. We checked Arcade Alley, booth by booth. Cal did a lap around the indoor arcade while the rest of us looked for Stacy in the rigged carnival game stands. No luck. Worried, I jogged ahead, and found someone. Kyle. That bastard. Dragging his foot sideways, limping with all his might - not that far from the gate, actually. Maybe a hundred yards to go. I sighed and picked up the pace. I hated him for a lot of things, and I'd never admit it to him, but he made the right call. May as well help him.

"Wait up, dickhead," I called, gaining on him.

Before he could turn, a writhing mass of arms and torsos skittered out from between the Test Your Strength Bell and a popcorn stand. I don't even know if it had a head. A visceral reaction stopped me in my tracks as a fifty foot human centipede that was strangely less traumatizing than the film glided towards Kyle at incredible speed, gliding across the pavement on a wave of enthusiastic applause. There was nothing I could do. It grabbed his hurt ankle with several hands and dragged him violently across the asphalt as he clawed uselessly. Kyle held the book fruitlessly instead of freeing a hand to try and fight it off, crying out for help I could not give. It gripped him everywhere with so many hands until he was in a position it felt happy with. Kyle screamed as it gave him the most unwanted hug in the universe, closing dozens of arms around his body as it rose up like a cobra. Tighter and tighter, his shrieking muffled and then abruptly stopped, punctuated by a spray of blood between its folded limbs. It released his mangled, unrecognizable corpse and curled around it contentedly. The book. That goddamn book. Embedded in his broken body like a gem in a ring, acting as a beacon to every Envoy in the park.

A string of expletives flew out of me. Now we had two problems. He got his just desserts, but at everyone's expense. Even if we could read the banishment spell, it was unreachable. The others caught up to me, and I ushered them between two booths on the off chance that thing wanted another snuggle. We crouched and hurried away, dearly hoping it would not seek us out. We ducked into one of the many public bathrooms. I dragged the heavy metal trash bin in front of the door. We huddled at the back, trying to quiet our breathing, when I heard someone sniffling in a stall. "Stacy?" I whispered.

"Kasey?!" a voice responded.

"Stacy!"

The handicap stall door flung open. She went to throw her arms around me and stifled a scream. Oh, right. I forgot I was covered in blood. And mystery chunks. I gave her some space while the others expressed their relief that she was still alive, and she started crying and apologizing. "I'm sorry I ran," She whispered. "I...those things, I can't handle that, they're too-"

"No, we know." Cal said, drawing her in for a comfort hug. He was the least gore-splattered of us all. "You'll be okay. You don't have to fight. We got you covered. Just don't run off again, okay?" I smiled at him, being all Big Brother. Stacy acted younger than she was a lot of the time. She lived a sheltered, comfortable life. She was afraid of moths. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head over those Cronenberg horrors roaming around outside. Maybe she could tag along with me to therapy. She was so small, so innocent; I really wanted to make sure she made it home. I wanted to reach into her brain and make her forget all of this. Watching her cry in Cal's arms just made me angrier at Kyle and his lackeys. How dare he die horribly and rob me of the satisfaction of making him pay for all this?