Chapter 7

Mrs. Jist proceeded towards the hall of bells.

She made an important—and exciting assembly, hoping to scare the children.

Heading towards the hall of bells, she was gazing at students murmuring.

Immediately, the students went quiet as she tapped the microphone.

She smiled, looking at the scared faces of the students.

"Well, today I'm being nice to you all," she said, staring weirdly at the students.

She continued, "Two of the children have escaped from this orphanage."

Voices sprouted up into gossip.

But then, in a quick of a snap the crowd became silent. "Today, we have decided to have no school tomorrow."

Expecting the crowd to cheer, she was merely pleased with the silence of the kids.

"You're dismissed."

The students shuffled against each other, as Mrs. Jist started returning back to her office.

The bullets were puncturing the paint of the jetski relentlessly.

"Why is no one taking them down!" Kirk screamed in his walkie talkie.

Bumble, in annoyance, answered, "Because you are not up against them!"

Kirk fleetingly looked at Bumble.

"They don't have weapons so just shoot their vehicle down."

Kirk smiled.

"Thank you second-in command," he said with a big grin.

Splashh*

The boat reached over the section near where the two friends were at.

Apprehensively, Peter looked back, seeing something he normally wouldn't see.

"Kirk?"

Micah looked back now, almost speechless from seeing him.

What was he doing here?

"Hello, you little pints!" Kirk bellowed, as their jetski almost touched the back.

Micah immediately turned the jet ski to the side, to keep them off their tail. He now switched to the third gear, and the jetski went faster.

Bumble did the same, leading the jetski to softly bump on their steering nozzle.

*Bomp* "Ah!" Peter shrieked, almost losing grip on Micah's stomach.

"Hang on!" Micah shouted, feeling the slip from his belly.

"Just keep bumping them!" Kirk shouted excitedly. Bumble did so, bumping into the back of the boat again.

*Splishhhh*

This time, the hit caused the jetski to drift over to a 360 move.

Peter, seeing the bullets fly past him, bent backwards—dodging the flying killers.

The jetski returned to its normal posture, but it was now more risky.

"We need to catch up more on them," Kirk said to Bumble.

"I actually agree for once!"

He turned his boat to the next lane, somehow now side by side of the boat.

"Remember me!" Kirk clamored.

Yes, they did—and they were most skeptical of it. "Go away!" Peter shouted.

Kirk shook his head.

"Ain't gonna leave that easy!"

Suddenly, their boat was moving towards Peter's side.

"Move!" Peter shrieked, as their boat moved the same direction as Kirk's.

It was almost like a race, except it was more dangerous than usual.

"We need to escape from them," Peter said to Micah. Micah trepitatedly responded, "You don't think?"

Kirk was now only inches away from their boat. Slowly, Bumble raised something that almost made him faint.

*Click*

The muzzle faced directly at his face so close that if it was shot, it would obliterate him.

"Stop the jetski, and I won't shoot," he said, with a smile that almost struck harder.

Peter's face was trembling.

His teeth were chattering.

And his grip on Micah was almost non-existent.

He looked back at Peter, seeing the gun faced at him.

He needed to do something.

In a matter of anger and force, he pushed his leg off from the step.

Ka-pak*

Ultimately, Bumble was kicked in the face, releasing himself from the jetski.

Suddenly, he fell over into the water, leading the boat out of control.

Kirk found himself swinging around until he planted into the water.

splash*

Peter, not sure of what just happened, smiled in rejoice.

Then, he felt his eyes closing slowly and slowly, until he could only see darkness.

Which meant, his grip was officially off.

Micah quickly looked back in horror, quickly grabbing him in the wrist.

He scolded himself quietly, hoping to see escape soon. But, on the horizon he saw a big orange sun.

They were almost out!

He now switched the gear, now making the draft lean over.

He tried to keep on, so that he wasn't going to lean over the handle.

But, he was almost there!

He kept pushing harder and harder.

His hands started burning in pain, while also trying to keep Peter on the boat.

"Come on—" he grunted in pain. "Keep going!"

He felt like his hands were disconnecting with his joints.

He closed his eyes hoping to feel a bump of land, to where he could lay.

Then, boom*

He felt a wave of sand splash onto his face. He felt himself shake until he felt a hard surface pound on his face.

Crash*

He suddenly could discern himself, flying off the jetski, and landing with a thrash.

He could only feel pain on his hand and head, trying to open his eyes.

But, his eyes weren't budging, then—he didn't feel alive anymore.