The Worst Summer of My Life

Everything Goes Tits Up

Arcade Alley was crawling with Envoys. After coming all this way, fighting all that hell, we were going to have to backtrack and try to leave through one of the park's service entrances. The defeated faces of my friends were very relatable. The wind out of my sails completely, I did my best to kick a breeze up. "Hey, look though. Those creepy fuckin things are really preoccupied with that book. All we have to do is give the big guy a wide berth. And we're good." I did a good job making something impossible sound easy. Too bad they still weren't buying it.

We took our time preparing to leave. I finished cleaning myself up the best I could, slicking water through my hair and watching all the red circle the drain. I wrung it out and tied it back, feeling cleaner. Except for my shirt. The blood started to crust and chafe against me, and I couldn't stand it. Cal helped me lift the trash bin so moving it wouldn't make noise. I peeked out the door. The coast was clear. Trusty bashing case in hand, I led the way, making a pit stop at the souvenir stand to steal and change into a clean shirt behind the counter. Feeling much better, I continued the path. We hid behind the larger booths as we went every time any errant noise came our way. It was slow going, but we managed to avoid more Envoys.

Slowly but surely, we sneaked around other side of Arcade Alley to cut through the water park. Without Envoys to worry about, we could move faster, but we were still nervous about making too much noise. The army called in a second wave of air units - this time, some kind of jet - firing missiles across the broad hide of Mr. World Eater. Uncountable arms tried and failed to bitch slap the pilots down. Something that big was not built for speed; at least not enough speed to compete with a fighter jet. We used the deafening sounds to mask our own, taking the opportunity to sprint instead of jog. Before long, we could see the promenade clearly.

We passed one of the downed helicopters, which Cal investigated curiously. "Maybe there's a gun in here," He thought aloud. I didn't want to linger too long, but having more firepower than a jazz instrument and a hatchet would be nice, so I let him look.

He came back with an unexploded rocket.

"Oh my god, no, put it back, what if it goes off?" I backed way away from him while he tried to interrupt my panic.

"No, hear me out," He said.

"Dude, no!" Gavin agreed with me. Stacy echoed his sentiments.

"He's standing above the Skyshot." Cal said flatly. "Right above it. What do you think a rocket to the gut would do to him?"

I took a breath to argue against the idea, but paused. Most animals, even the armored ones, had soft underbellies. The Scourage could bleed. He was flesh and blood. Animal? Debatable. Killable? Most likely. Maybe that meant he had a weak spot. Maybe. I shook my head anyway. "No. Okay, it's a good idea. But what's to stop him from just reaching down with all those creepy arms and ripping you in half?"

Cal thumped his chest. "I run a four minute mile. He's slow as shit." My heart fluttered with anxiety. Teenagers never think they can die.

"Do you even know how to operate the ride? And what if it's broken?" Alice challenged.

He made a face. "Can't see it perfectly from here. But where's the harm in hanging on to this until we know for sure? Also, I operated rides for two years before switching to food services. I can get it running. Park still has power."

I squinted. "Was that legal? You were sixteen then, right?"

"Yes, actually, though it feels like it shouldn't be." Cal said cheerfully. "Gonna pay off real good now, though, right?" He turned back to us. "We have to go around that way anyway. The Skyshot takes forty seconds to prime. I can do this."