Chapter 7

Chapter Seven I'm itchy. Anxious. Straight-up squirrelly. See, the first thing I learned after the Monster Apocalypse began is that you need to keep busy. Otherwise, you go crazy-pants. So... I make a decision: I'm getting my Helidrone back from Big Al's Junk Palace. I tell my buds, and they're totally on board with journeying to Big Al's, even if it's for different reasons...

Big Al's Junk Palace will have the long-range signal-boosting antenna. We need to complete the radio. The radio is the key to getting in touch with the rest of humanity. And I need a new lead pipe for monster bashing. "Getting inside Big Al's will not be easy," Quint says. "We must perform reconnaissance from an elevated position to analyze all possible points of entry. A roof near Big Al's would be best." I lean forward. "A roof, eh? Sounds to me like it's time for a game of... THE STREETS ARE LAVA!" "Yes! Yes! Yes!" June screams. "Capital idea, Jack!" Quint adds.

Okay, so... The Streets Are Lava is basically the best game ever. It's super simple, and you probably kinda know what the deal is. When you play at home, it's called The Floor Is Lava. You move around the house making tough leaps and grabs, while trying not to touch the ground. It's like, "Oh, Bill (or whatever your buddy's name is—if it's Bill, even better), jump from the coffee table to the couch, but don't touch the floor!" The game always ends with your mom's favorite vase shattering and everyone getting grounded for the weekend. But see, our version is post-apocalyptic—so it's more adventurous and more dangerous, and no one ever gets grounded! The goal of the game is: GET AS FAR ACROSS OUR CRUMBLING TOWN AS POSSIBLE WITHOUT TOUCHING THE STREET. It's crazy fun and we also discover all sorts of supplies and loot while playing. One game led us to a fancy-pants country club where we found an automatic tennis-ball-firing thing. We pushed the BallBlaster 2000 straight back home because, I

mean—an automatic tennis-ball-firing thing? That's obviously fantastic fun. I tighten my laces and get ready to head out. "I'll grab my tools!" Dirk says. "I'll grab my backpack!" June says. "I'll pack a picnic lunch!" Quint says. See what I mean? How could I let all this come to an end? We start downtown, moving from one store rooftop to the next. Then we hit the houses, where

it's roof to patio to tree. Then we're scaling a fire escape to the top of the 7-Eleven. We've come to the 7-Eleven before, but we've never figured out how to get beyond it without breaking the rules of The Streets Are Lava. But now we have to figure it out so we can get to the Burger King that overlooks Big Al's. (And we have to stick to the rules. I will not disrespect the game by dismissing the rules all willy-nilly.) Dirk slips off his backpack. "Whatcha got there, Dirk?" I ask. He grins. "Cowboy stuff. Like in the movies." Dirk has weird taste in movies. Also, he gets on these kicks where he'll only watch one kind of movie, nonstop. First it was only WWE wrestling specials. Then it was only arm-wrestling movies— and there's only like two movies with armwrestling-centric plots, so that got old quick. His latest kick is old Wild West Westerns. And I dig that, because my buddies and I are basically modern-day cowboys. We roam the land and battle wild enemies and don't shower very often.

Anyway, Dirk's fully obsessed with anything Wild West–y—including cowboy skills... I'm gonna lasso that streetlamp Like Indiana Jones. No, like a cowboy. The rope makes a whift, whift, whift sound as Dirk whirls then hurls the lasso. And he nails it, first try! "Told ya," he says, with a proud grin. "I'm all cowboy." He spits on his hands, rubs his palms together, grins 'cause he knows that looks cool, and then grabs the rope and leaps...