The Worst Summer of My Life

Then It Gets Worse

When you're about to die, you're supposed to see your life flash before your eyes. I waited to see a montage of all the failures I'd racked up in my short time on earth, but instead, I heard a song. Specifically, Careless Whisper. The Envoys slowed their pace towards me and collectively turned towards the sound, hissing and gurgling. I realized I wasn't imagining it. Stacy. Stacy, that beautiful, insane kid - she'd climbed on top of an overturned golf cart to belt out George Michael like our lives depended on it, which was fitting, because they did. Cal was halfway to the Log Flume, and I aimed to meet him there. Stacy started playing Pied Piper to the horrors of the universe, leading them back towards the promenade with the aid of an iconic love song. Girl had some lungs on her to be able to speed walk and drown out the awful gnashing of those things in one go. I prayed she would be okay.

Cal stood beside an overturned Humvee, motioning me to hurry up. The soldiers nowhere in sight, I resigned to the likelihood that they'd been dragged off by some Envoys. He pulled a crate out of the back and heaved it across the dirt, the gears of another insane plan turning behind his eyes. I needed to sit. So I did. "What," I sucked in air. I was not built for that much running. "Did you find now?" I panted. Tried to breathe slower. Made a conscious effort to be calm. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse. My heart slammed into my rib cage like it was trying to escape.

"A box of grenades," He breathed. He went back into the vehicle to rummage some more. "And all these rounds!" Cal dragged another crate out.

"With no guns?" I focused on trying not to pass out.

"Imagine we just pile it all in the crate and Stacy leads the envoys through it. We toss a grenade at it and," He pantomimed an explosion, complete with sound effects. "All those bullets make for extra shrapnel, right?"

"Not risking her," I wheezed, still struggling to keep a steady breath. Cal found my logic reasonable, but still went to work piling belts of ammunition and loose bullets into the mess. My head lolled to the side. I weakly observed the scene: The Scourge, fallen to its many knees, struggling to regain its purchase. The anguished cries of a dying God filled the air, stirring the Envoys into a frenzy. The fading melody of Careless Whisper served as a comforting reminder that Stacy was still alive, still fleeing. Would The Scourge's death trigger a cascade failure in his Envoys? Would she be safe? Would he bleed out in time? He lurched sideways, head nearly colliding with what was left of the Silver Bullet's tracks, and my own insane plan sprang to mind.

The Silver Bullet was a Dive Coaster that boasted 120MPH speeds. A Dive Coaster is a roller coaster that uses a near-90 degree drop as its momentum generator. Quite the rush. It was Fun Land's star attraction. Beneath its twists, turns, and loops, a beautiful man-made lake full of Koi served as scenery for the ride. The park had six roller coasters in total, but The Silver Bullet always had the longest lines. The coaster was sleek, chromed, and the front car was - you guessed it - shaped like a bullet. As luck would have it, only the ass-end of the track had been destroyed. "Hey Cal." I said, pointing feebly at the Bullet. "What if we put the crate in the front seat. And sent it right into his fuckin' head." I was so exhausted.

I turned to him. Dude looked like a kid at Christmas. I feared this day awakened something destructive within my friend, and he would go on to misuse many fireworks until he ran out of fingers. If we survived, I would be sure to keep an eye on him around the Fourth of July. "I feel like it'd be enough force. Yeah, yeah," He nodded. "It would hit him and just blow up. Sandy, you're a genius." He pulled me to my feet. "Get the other end. Come on."

I slipped my fingers through the handle on my end and forced my legs to cooperate. We scurried across the empty lot, toting what felt like a hundred and fifty pounds of military grade chaos. As we approached the coaster, the distant Careless Whisper stopped. Suddenly. We paused for only a moment before rushing to the front car of The Silver Bullet. The crate wouldn't fit, so we very, very carefully began to unload the contents into the leg room of the front seat. It filled up nicely, but a concern presented itself. "What if it falls out on the dive?"