turned as I thought about what those saves might cost. Ugh.
“I’m counting it as zero saves unless you escape that,” she said, stabbing one well-manicured finger at the passenger window.
I looked toward where she was pointing. I shouldn’t have, but I was a sucker. Still, there was something about a giant parade float of Peppa Pig barreling toward us that made me doubt my sanity. Even worse, bloody carnations trailed behind it, reminding me of a macabre flower girl at a wedding. Yeah, there was no way this was going to end well.
Gunmen stood all over the float, pointing an impressive variety of assault rifles at our suddenly inadequate seeming van. As I opened my mouth to protest the absurdity of the situation, bullets slammed into the van’s side panel, punching through the steel and bouncing around inside like angry hornets. Sunlight streamed through the holes in the side as Ramon stomped his foot down on the accelerator, sending us lurching forward.
“Well, you don’t see that every day,” Ramon replied just before a bullet smacked into the side of his head and bounced off with the hard twang of metal on metal. “Goddammit.”
“Well, Mac, if you have any mojo left, now would be the time,” Maya said, scrunching herself in the foot space in front of her seat as the float swung widely off the main street, slammed partially into a light pole that ripped off Peppa’s ear, and came barreling toward us.
“Seriously?” I asked as flowers streamed off Peppa’s face, and I realized I could see what looked like a fucking missile launcher inside. The mechanism inside the float groaned. Hydraulic presses moved and gears spun, pushing the tip of the missile through Peppa’s open mouth. In moments, it’d be aimed at us, and because I had no desire to be here when that happened, a sudden, stupid idea popped into my head.
“We’re definitely up to three saves,” Ramon said, taking a hard right onto a crowded street filled with fruit stands and people hocking piñatas stuffed with candy instead of death. Ramon leaned on the horn, causing it to blast God Only Knows by the Beach Boys at the people in front of us while throwing the van into reverse and stomping on the accelerator in an effort to get us out of here.
The people in front of us glanced up and mostly ignored us. I say mostly because a kid started sprinting toward our van with an armful of chiclets. Yeah, this was going to end horribly. So what did I do? I proceeded with my Really Bad Mac Brennan Plan ™.
As the float came skidding into view in a hail of pink and white carnations, I threw open the VW bus’s back door and called upon my magic. I’m not sure why, but as I did it, Sabotage by the Beastie Boys started playing in my head.
“Ignis!” I cried at the top of my lungs. Crimson Hellfire sprang to life in the palm of my hand as the inside of the van filled with scarlet light. I reared back in my best Randy Johnson imitation and hurled my magical fireball straight at the scud missile angling toward us.
Unfortunately, I didn’t quite see the aftermath because I was too busy jerking the door shut and flinging myself toward my companions while calling up every last ounce of power I could. My tattoos went radioactive as I landed hard on Jack’s chest. I scrambled forward, grabbing Maya’s and Ramon’s shoulders and hanging on for dear life.
“Tueri—” my cry was cut off as an explosion unlike anything I’d ever seen before sent the van flying in a burst of flame and shrapnel. As my own special brand of flame leapt out of me and spilled the entire inside of the van, a wave of heat washed over me, searing my nerves and making my vision splinter into fragments of shattered stained glass.
My head smacked into the ceiling as the VW lifted into the air and tumbled end over end in a wash of fire and debris. I slammed into the front seat as I struggled to keep the inside of the van from being melted into slag along with the molten windows
“I’m counting it as zero saves unless you escape that,” she said, stabbing one well-manicured finger at the passenger window.
I looked toward where she was pointing. I shouldn’t have, but I was a sucker. Still, there was something about a giant parade float of Peppa Pig barreling toward us that made me doubt my sanity. Even worse, bloody carnations trailed behind it, reminding me of a macabre flower girl at a wedding. Yeah, there was no way this was going to end well.
Gunmen stood all over the float, pointing an impressive variety of assault rifles at our suddenly inadequate seeming van. As I opened my mouth to protest the absurdity of the situation, bullets slammed into the van’s side panel, punching through the steel and bouncing around inside like angry hornets. Sunlight streamed through the holes in the side as Ramon stomped his foot down on the accelerator, sending us lurching forward.
“Well, you don’t see that every day,” Ramon replied just before a bullet smacked into the side of his head and bounced off with the hard twang of metal on metal. “Goddammit.”
“Well, Mac, if you have any mojo left, now would be the time,” Maya said, scrunching herself in the foot space in front of her seat as the float swung widely off the main street, slammed partially into a light pole that ripped off Peppa’s ear, and came barreling toward us.
“Seriously?” I asked as flowers streamed off Peppa’s face, and I realized I could see what looked like a fucking missile launcher inside. The mechanism inside the float groaned. Hydraulic presses moved and gears spun, pushing the tip of the missile through Peppa’s open mouth. In moments, it’d be aimed at us, and because I had no desire to be here when that happened, a sudden, stupid idea popped into my head.
“We’re definitely up to three saves,” Ramon said, taking a hard right onto a crowded street filled with fruit stands and people hocking piñatas stuffed with candy instead of death. Ramon leaned on the horn, causing it to blast God Only Knows by the Beach Boys at the people in front of us while throwing the van into reverse and stomping on the accelerator in an effort to get us out of here.
The people in front of us glanced up and mostly ignored us. I say mostly because a kid started sprinting toward our van with an armful of chiclets. Yeah, this was going to end horribly. So what did I do? I proceeded with my Really Bad Mac Brennan Plan ™.
As the float came skidding into view in a hail of pink and white carnations, I threw open the VW bus’s back door and called upon my magic. I’m not sure why, but as I did it, Sabotage by the Beastie Boys started playing in my head.
“Ignis!” I cried at the top of my lungs. Crimson Hellfire sprang to life in the palm of my hand as the inside of the van filled with scarlet light. I reared back in my best Randy Johnson imitation and hurled my magical fireball straight at the scud missile angling toward us.
Unfortunately, I didn’t quite see the aftermath because I was too busy jerking the door shut and flinging myself toward my companions while calling up every last ounce of power I could. My tattoos went radioactive as I landed hard on Jack’s chest. I scrambled forward, grabbing Maya’s and Ramon’s shoulders and hanging on for dear life.
“Tueri—” my cry was cut off as an explosion unlike anything I’d ever seen before sent the van flying in a burst of flame and shrapnel. As my own special brand of flame leapt out of me and spilled the entire inside of the van, a wave of heat washed over me, searing my nerves and making my vision splinter into fragments of shattered stained glass.
My head smacked into the ceiling as the VW lifted into the air and tumbled end over end in a wash of fire and debris. I slammed into the front seat as I struggled to keep the inside of the van from being melted into slag along with the molten windows
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