Page 64 of The Space Between Heartbeats
I swallow hard and make a mental note of where it’s parked. We’ll have to get his keys while we’re here also.
There’s a few news vans scattered throughout the lot. Not as many as there probably were two days ago, but enough to piss me off. A few people with cameras are stationed near the entrance, waiting like vultures.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“We can avoid them,” Sawyer says. “We’ll just walk up and pay like normal visitors. Keep our heads down.”
Helen parks near the entrance, but before we get out, she takes Sawyer’s hand. “You don’t have to do this. We can call the park. Have them mail your things.”
“That’ll take too long.” Sawyer squeezes her mom’s hand. “I’ll be okay. Knox is with me.”
Helen looks at me through the rearview mirror. There’s a mix of disdain and pleading in her eyes as she blinks back tears.
“Take care of her.”
“I will.”
We get out and Helen drives away quickly, like she can’t stand to be here another second. I don’t blame her. The place looks wrong. Too cheerful. Too normal. Like it’s completely ignoring the carnage that just happened.
Sawyer and I stand on the sidewalk, staring at the entrance.
“I can’t believe they’re open,” she says, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“Un-fucking-believable.” I watch a group of teenagers walk right by us, laughing as they head to the ticket counter.
“They must have only closed Velocity.”
I glance in that direction, but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t know.”
We walk toward the entrance and get our answer. There’s a sign:Velocityis temporarily closed for inspection. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Inconvenience.
Like it’s a fucking broken water fountain.
“This is insane,” I say.
Sawyer stares at the sign for another moment before sniffing and looking away. “Let’s just get this over with.”
We buy tickets at the window, the employee doesn’t even look at us twice, and walk through the turnstiles. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
The park is full of people. Families eating funnel cake. Kids screaming on the carousel. Normal. Everything is so fucking normal.
“I can’t believe they’re just...operating like nothing happened,” she whispers.
“Money.” It comes out harsh because I don’t have an ounce of care in my soul for assholes like these park owners. “Why close the whole park when you can just close one ride and keep the revenue coming in?”
She shakes her head. “That’s disgusting.”
We hurry past a news crew, cameras out, interviewing a staff member.
“Is it just me, or is the park even busier than usual?” Sawyer asks, taking in the long lines at the rides around us and the packed game booths.
I scoff, seeing exactly what she sees. “People are fucking sick…morbid curiosity, probably.”
The closer we get to Velocity, the stronger my pulse pounds. I hate that this place has become something of my nightmares, obscuring all the amazing memories I’ve made here.
Up ahead, I spot a group of teenagers clustered around the caution tape, phones out, recording. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it as they point at the ride, doing that thing where they talk to their cameras like they’re fucking news anchors.
