1642734778_punk-57-pdf

to see what lies beyond in the vast amusement park, but all I can make out
are dark doorways, dozens of corners, and sidewalks that go on and on. The
wind that courses through the broken windows sounds like whispers.
Too many nooks and crannies. Too many hiding places.
I pull up the sleeves of my hoodie, all of a sudden not feeling so cold.
Why the hell are we here?
Looking to my right, I notice a black Ford Raptor sitting under a cover
of trees on the edge of the parking lot, and the windows are blacked out. Is
someone inside?
A shiver runs up my spine, and I rub my arms.
Maybe one of Trey’s or J.D.’s friends brought their own car tonight.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” a voice calls out, imitating an owl. I tear my eyes
away from the Raptor, and we all look up in the direction of the noise.
“Oh, my God!” Lyla bursts out, laughing. “You guys are crazy!”
I shake my head as Ten and Lyla hoot and holler, running toward the
Ferris wheel just inside the gate. Scaling the grungy yellow poles about fifty
feet above us, between the cars of the old ride, is Lyla’s boyfriend, J.D., and
his buddy, Bryce.
“Come on,” Lyla says, climbing over the guard rail toward the Ferris
wheel. “Let’s go see.”
“See what?” I ask. “Rides that don’t run?”
She races off, ignoring me, and Ten laughs.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me away from the ride.
I follow him as we head deeper into the park, both of us wandering
down the wide lanes that were once packed with crowds of people. I look
left and right, equal parts fascinated and creeped out.
Doors hang off hinges, creaking in the breeze, and moonlight glimmers
off the glass lying on the ground beneath broken windows. The wind blows