The RV traveled down the highway for three hours. The sun began to dip lower, turning the sky a deep orange color.
Ben watched the trees go by. His legs felt cramped in the small seat. He shifted his weight, the vinyl material of the chair sticking to the back of his thighs. Every time he moved, the seat made a loud PEELING sound.
"Are we there yet?" Ben asked.
"Five more minutes," Max said.
"You said that twenty minutes ago!" Gwen yelled. She slammed her book shut. "The AC in this thing is barely working. I can feel a layer of grease forming on my forehead."
"Character building, Gwen! That's what summer is about!" Max laughed.
The Rustbucket turned off the main road and onto a gravel path.
The stones kicked up under the tires, hitting the undercarriage.
The van swayed as it navigated the uneven ground. They passed a sign that read:
CAMP PEEWEE - WATCH FOR BEARS.
A man in a stained tank top stood by a small tent near the entrance. He was holding a beer can and staring at a flat tire on his truck.
"FUCKING PIECE OF JUNK!" the man screamed. He kicked the tire.
THUD
His foot bounced off the rubber, sending him stumbling backward into a bush.
"Well, he looks like a helpful guy," Ben muttered.
Max pulled the RV into a secluded clearing surrounded by towering pine trees. The air here was cooler, smelling of pine needles and damp earth. He turned the key in the ignition.
The engine died with a final shudder. Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the sound of crickets beginning their nightly song.
"Alright, kids! Set up shop!" Max climbed out of the van. His boots hit the dirt with a heavy THUD.
Ben stepped out onto the grass. He stretched his arms over his head, his spine making a series of dry POPS.
He looked at the torn collar of his shirt and then at Gwen, who was struggling to lug a heavy cooler out of the side door.
Her face was turning a bright shade of pink from the exertion.
"Are you going to stand there like a statue of a moron, or are you going to help?" Gwen grunted.
She lost her grip on the plastic handle.
CRASH!
The cooler hit the ground, spilling a bag of ice and several vacuum-sealed pouches of green slime onto the dirt.
"Nice one, Doofus," Ben remarked, but he didn't move. He leaned against the side of the RV, picking a piece of dried school-bus gum off the sole of his sneaker.
"Maybe if you spent less time reading and more time lifting something heavier than a bookmark, you wouldn't be such a klutz."
Gwen's eyes narrowed into slits. She marched over to Ben and shoved her index finger hard into the center of his chest. "And maybe if you had more than two brain cells fighting for third place, you'd realize that we're in the middle of nowhere and I'm the only one who knows how to use the first-aid kit when you inevitably trip over your own feet."
"Back off!" Ben swiped her hand away. "I'm going for a walk. I need to get away from the smell of those sea-slug guts and your ego."
Max popped the trunk of the RV, causing a cloud of dust to billow out.
PUFF.
He started humming a tuneless melody while pulling out a rusted folding table. "Don't go too far, Ben! The woods are thick this time of year. You might get turned around and end up as a snack for a black bear! They love the taste of city kids!"
"I'll be fine, Grandpa! It's just trees!" Ben turned his back on them.
"If you get eaten, I'm taking your Sumo Slammer cards!" Gwen yelled after him. She picked up a handful of melting ice and chucked it at the back of his head.
SPLAT.
The freezing water soaked into the back of Ben's shirt. He jumped, his shoulders hitting his ears as the cold liquid ran down his spine.
"YOU WITCH!" Ben spun around, his face twisting into a mask of pure rage. He reached for a rock, but Gwen had already ducked back inside the RV, slamming the metal door behind her.
CLANG!
"Ben, focus on the nature! Deep breaths!" Max called out. He was currently struggling to unfold the table, accidentally pinching his thumb in the metal hinge. "OW! MOTHER—"
Max bit his lip, his face turning a deep crimson as he shook his hand violently.
Ben ignored them both. He stomped away from the yellow light of the Rustbucket.
His shoes crushed dry leaves and snapped small twigs.
CRACK. CRUNCH.
He pushed past a low-hanging branch, the needles scratching a thin red line across his left cheek.
He reached a small ridge overlooking a valley. He sat down on a flat rock. The stone was cold and rough, the granite texture biting into the skin of his palms.
He looked up at the stars, his chest still heaving from the argument.
Suddenly, a streak of light appeared in the sky.
It wasn't a slow-moving star. It was a bright, neon-green blur that tore through the atmosphere, trailing a wake of white-hot sparks.
WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The sound grew louder, a high-pitched whistle that made the fluid in Ben's inner ear vibrate.
The light grew larger, turning the surrounding pine needles a sickly, radioactive shade of emerald.
"What the...?"
The object changed direction mid-air. It headed straight for the ridge.
Ben jumped to his feet. His pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black.
He turned to run, but the air pressure around him suddenly spiked, popping his ears.
BOOM!
A massive explosion of dirt and fire erupted fifty yards away.
The force of the impact hit Ben like a physical fist. He flew backward, his back slamming into a thick oak tree.
THUMP.
The air left his lungs in a single, jagged wheeze. His vision swam with black dots as he slumped to the damp forest floor.
In the distance, Gwen's voice drifted through the trees, sharp and mocking. "Ben? Was that you, you idiot? What did you blow up now?"
Ben didn't answer. He rolled onto his stomach, coughing as the smell of scorched earth filled his nostrils.
He looked toward the impact site. A deep, perfectly circular crater smoked in the center of the clearing.
At the bottom of the pit, something metallic reflected the moonlight.
Ben stood up. His knees shook, the muscles twitching uncontrollably. He wiped a streak of black soot off his forearm and began to walk toward the edge of the smoking hole.