A Long Walk Up the Waterslide

TWELVE F- WORDS, TWENTY OR THIRTY SHITS…

Karen felt the rush of wind over her head and dived for cover.

Joe Graham crawled toward her.

Polly stood in the middle of the plaza, asking, “What the hell is this?”

Hathaway ran.

Harold looked at Joey and said, “Get outta here, Joey.”

“The hell difference it makes?” Joey asked. “If Carmine wants me

…”

“A day at a time, huh?” Harold said. “Go on… before I don’t have an excuse not to whack you.”

Another rifle shot went off.

“You’re okay, Harold,” Joey said.

“Long life, boss.”

Joey Beans ran for the relative safety of the putt-putt golf course.

The second shot went off as Neal pulled back on Overtime’s arm and tried to haul him out of the starting chamber. Overtime rammed the stock back and hit Neal on the collarbone. Neal kept his grip on Overtime’s arm, braced his feet against the side of the slide, and jerked. He reached his left hand around, grabbed the killer under the chin, and pulled.

Overtime pushed his rifle hand out and probed with the barrel until he felt it touch a body.

Neal felt the barrel against him, rolled back, and pulled the man onto the slide with him as the gun went off. He was lying sideways across the slide now, with his feet braced on the edge and Overtime lying on top of him.

Neal felt as if he was drowning. Jets of water were shooting into his face and he couldn’t get his head up high enough to get a real breath. Add exhaustion, terror, and the thought that a bullet was going to blow his head off any second and it was not a happy situation.

Then why are you holding on? he asked himself.

He was considering this question when Overtime’s elbow crashed into his rib cage and he let go.

He felt the killer slide away from him as he dug his feet back into the side, reached over his head, and gripped the edge.

This isn’t as bad as the Newport Bridge, Overtime thought as he careened down the long straightaway.

Problem: Escape.

Analysis: You’re moving at high speed away from your adversaries. You still have your weapon. You can still make it out of here.

Solution: Go with the flow.

Overtime lay back to increase his speed, slid around the double corkscrew, built up tremendous velocity on the next straightaway, and flew around the first high bank. The problem came when his two hundred pounds hit the next bank a little roughly and one of Joey’s cheap sections gave way and he crashed through it like a rocket and was launched fifty feet into the warm Texas sky.

Witnesses later said that his screams were truly unsettling.

The water in the pool below got pretty hard when he hit it at the speed he was going, so he was probably already pretty banged up when the current sucked his unconscious body into the tube, plummeted him thirty feet, and shot him out like a bullet into the final pool.

There were no flotation devices, lifeguards, or emergency personnel there to meet him. There was no water, either-just the rock-hard pool bottom, a busted canvas bag, and some sand-so the twenty foot high-speed dash headfirst into the concrete is what killed him.

“Was that the man who shot Mr. Withers?” Charles asked Polly a few minutes later as they looked into the dry pool.

Polly looked at Overtime’s shattered remains and said, “Hard to tell.”

Joe Graham held on to Karen as she crawled out and grabbed Neal’s hand, but they couldn’t get enough leverage to pull him out.

“Mmmmmmm,” Watanabe said behind the duct tape.

“What’s he saying?” Graham asked.

“He’s probably telling you to shut it off!” Neal hollered. “In any case, shut it off!!”

“Oh.” Graham found the switch and the flow of water stopped.

Graham yanked the tape off Watanabe’s mouth.

Karen pulled Neal up.

“Ready to go home?” Neal huffed.

“I think so,” answered Karen.

“I am,” Neal said.

“By the way, I forgot to tell you that you’re fired,” Graham said.

“That’s good,” Neal answered as he put his arm around Karen. “That’s very good, Dad.”

Then he and Karen walked down the water slide.