Free Nice Day to Die by Cameron Jace Page A

Timmy is happy.
    I land over Leo’s lap. Leo pushes the gas pedal to the maximum as the bus explodes. The heat of the explosion burns the back of my neck. A couple of the outranked on the jeep fall to the ground. Leo is a mess, looking like he’s come out of a coal mine. The air against our faces cools us a little while we’re speeding up. I look back over Leo’s shoulder. There is a huge irregular foam of black smoke reaching up for the sky behind us. This looks worse than in the movies. This isn’t a game. This is war.
    “Boom!” Timmy celebrates. “I love explosions.”
    Slowly, a bus appears out of the smoke behind us. Okay. They made it too. We have about ten teenagers on the Jeep. With that bus, I guess maybe twenty or so others made it. Did anyone else survive?
    Did all those other kids just die? Is this mass murder or what? All in the name of the Burning Man.
    The floating smoke starts to clear away slowly. I see glimpses of the scene behind us. I close my eyes immediately. It’s unbelievable. Is this what my brother watches on TV and loves so much?
    I hear the sound of motorcycles approaching from behind the smoke. I wait until whatever is behind the smoke shows through.
    It’s not motorcycles. These are like skateboards floating above the ground, with some kind of fire engine underneath every board. Riding them the calm tattooed guys from the  other bus. Riding on the flying boards, they are smirking at us.
    Who are they? Are they trained for this?
    “Hoverboardz,” Roger This says. So he made it after all in the same Jeep? “Awesome!” he says as if this is virtual reality. Somehow, this death game doesn’t bother him at all.
    I don’t want to be sitting on Leo’s lap, so I crawl over to the passenger seat, sharing it with two other boys, but on no one’s lap. The boys keep staring at my ripped dress though. What’s wrong with these boys? Doesn’t anyone here get it that we’re about to die?
    Leo smirks in the mirror, lips sealed as usual.
    “Well. Well. Well,” says Timmy. “We have about a hundred survivors. That’s a lot, and that’s fun. I see that none of them are following the rules though , should we blow’em up, do you think?”
    “What does he mean?” I ask around me. Everyone is perplexed. What are we doing wrong?
    It suddenly hits me. I press the red button on my iAm and scream:
    “I. AM. ALIVE.”
    Everyone in the Jeep says it after me, “I am alive.”
    I hear those in the other surviving bus saying it too.
    The tattoo gang with the Hoverboardz push the button on their iAms. They say “I am alive” in a tone suggesting they are confident and sarcastic, as if they’re used to all this killing. Who are they?
    A number of voices from other places we don’t see say they’re alive too. It means there are more survivors. I am glad.
    To tell the truth, screaming “I am alive” after such an experience is such an ecstatic feeling. I haven’t felt this sense of victory before.
    I guess this is what Roger This meant. We’re all teens, trying to be adults. We still love to play. If we play and don’t think about dying, we might make it.
    “That’s the spirit.” Timmy is pleased. “You are alive indeed.” He stops, his eyes closer to the screen, “But for how long, Monsteritas?”
    “Yeah. For how long?” a fat boy yells from the audience, with a mouthful of junk food.
    “But wait a minute,” says Timmy. “Someone didn’t say it.”
    Immediately, I look at Leo. He looks back at me. I wonder what keeps him so tight-lipped. I reach for his face and try to force his lips open. He resists and pulls away. It’s like trying to squeeze juice from a stone.
    “Come on, man,” a boy says from the Jeep. “You are the hero. Don’t give up on us. By the way, is Chuck Norris your uncle or something?”
    Leo is speechless. There is a glowing in the corner of his eyes, that golden shade I saw earlier.
    I want to tell them that he is not going to open up for whatever