Chapter 12

chapter twelve We're not even five minutes into this thing, but I feel like I've already won because this is SO gonna cheer up Dirk. But also, we're gonna win for real, in a legit victory way! See, we have an advantage: my encyclopedic knowledge of video games! I know the best way to win a Battle Royale melee is to: 1. Find a vehicle. 2. Cruise around in that vehicle, avoiding other players, until you find a loot crate. 3. Take your loot crate gear and hide out in a safe location while the other players battle it out! When there's nearly no one left, you simply— 4. SWOOP IN FOR ULTIMATE VICTORY!

I'm trying to explain that to Dirk when suddenly, zipping past the mouth of the alley ahead of us is Skaelka. And what the huh—she already completed Step 1. I crane my neck, looking up at her ridonculous monster vehicle. She's inside the rusted husk of a 1980s Snatcher convertible. But that car frame is, in fact, the shell of a sort of other-dimensional hermit crab. It is— —The Carapace—

Skaelka's partnered with Globlet, a creature that resembles a tiny, very huggable wad of gum. Skaelka and Globlet must have already found a loot crate, because they've got two massive Goo-Slime weapons pointed at us. "Hello, human Sullivan," Skaelka says with a grin. I'm staring down the barrel of a Goo- Slime Blast Attacker.

I gulp. Oh man, we cannot get knocked out of the game this early—I haven't had a chance to get heart-to-heart honest with Dirk yet. Thankfully, at that very second, two more monsters come screaming down the street. They're riding souped-up, motorized scooters— and they unload on Skaelka and Globlet. Skaelka ducks. Globlet dodges. The slime assault misses. "Jack, you are lucky this time," Skaelka says. Then she turns the Carapace around, charging toward her enemies. Phew. OK. Vehicle time. We need our own. And I need answers from my buddy. "So, Dirk...." I say as we duck-and-run our way across Wakefield. "You've been acting all sorts of sad and weird. You wanna, like, talk about it? Chit-chat?" Dirk doesn't even respond. "See, if you're feeling down," I continue, "sometimes it helps to talk to buds about your feelings—"

"STOP!" Dirk roars, snapping. "Dude, I'm trying to play this real-life video game. Remember—your idea. And if you'd pay attention, you'd hear what I hear." I pause and listen. "The sounds of romance?" "No, dude. A BoomKart engine." I listen harder. He's right! I spot it: across the street, inside the SunOil gas station, is an idling BoomKart. "PERFECT! Finding a vehicle is Step 1 in winning a battle royale. C'mon!" The gas station's window is long gone. I try to do an action hero hop through, but I fall and land on my nose. Dirk simply struts through the front door like a normal human. He glares at me. Crud. Don't need grumpy Dirk glares. The whole point of Battle Royale is for Dirk to have some fun. And if he's staring daggers at me—then he's having less than fun. "Look, bro," he says, pointing. "Found one of your lame treasure chests."

"Not a treasure chest," I say. "LOOT. CRATE." While I hop into the BoomKart, Dirk opens the crate. He finds something sweet. Goo-Mallet. This'll do nicely, Dude. BoomKart Time. Also, maybe now. Do you wanna talk about your feelings? "Mallet now, feelings later," Dirk grunts as he climbs onto the back of the BoomKart. "Hang on tight!" I say, hitting the gas, bursting through the door, and speeding outside. "Now we just avoid everyone else while they take each other out. Then: VICTORY!"