It began with a sound.
Not a scream.
Not a splash.
But a low hum, like electricity crawling under skin, like a chorus of wires tightening beneath the world.
Mark stood in the middle of the park, but something was wrong. The colors around him deepened, oversaturated—too sharp, like glass cutouts. The sun pulsed above like a blinking eye, and the air grew still, suffocating.
People laughed. Somewhere, a child screamed—not in fear, but joy. Lifeguards blew whistles, speakers played upbeat music, but the noise around him blurred, warping like melting cassette tape.
Then the countdown began.
10...
The ground trembled. Just slightly. No one noticed.
A maintenance worker on the roof of The Vortex yelled something into a walkie-talkie. A spark danced across a fuse box near the base of the ride.
9...
Jamie sat near the splash zone, filming herself on her phone. Her reflection in the screen was… wrong. Her face twisted, blood pouring from her mouth silently, then it glitched back to normal.
8...
The lightning struck. A clear bolt from a cloudless sky. It hit the ride's central tower, exploding the fuse box in a shower of sparks and smoke. The metal superstructure groaned like it was alive—and in pain.
7...
Water cannons along the Lazy Rapids malfunctioned, blasting like geysers. A child was flung against the rocks. Another slid under a tube and didn't surface.
6...
One of the main support arms of The Vortex snapped. The riders inside screamed, their bodies flung like dolls. A teenage boy slammed into a concrete wall, his limbs bent the wrong way. The fiberglass tube peeled open mid-slide, sending three girls spiraling through the air—one lands headfirst into the deck, skull cracking like a dropped watermelon.
5...
Mark turned to run, but the ground beneath the wave pool split open. A massive vibration sent a tidal wave surging over the edge, water mixed with blood and broken pool toys. Brooke was dragged under, her leg caught in a filter grate. The suction yanked her down with unnatural force—her body twisted, spine snapping as the water turned red.
4...
Leah screamed. Not in fear—to warn them. She clutched her sketchbook, its pages flapping violently in the wind, soaked in ink and blood. A metal pole, dislodged from a collapsing umbrella stand, flew like a javelin and pierced her side. She crumpled with a whisper, eyes wide and still alive as she bled out in the wave pool's foam.
3...
Devin tried to climb the safety gate to escape the chaos, but the electrical panel shorted. He fell backward onto a cracked tile, and the water—charged with current—electrocuted him violently. His screams bubbled in his throat before his body went still, smoke rising from his limbs.
2...
Tanya tried to help Jamie up from the slippery platform, but a falling lifeguard chair slammed into her, snapping her neck instantly. Her body folded against the concrete like a rag doll. Jamie cried out—but the speaker above her exploded, spraying her with shards of hot plastic and wire. She stumbled backward and fell—straight onto the jagged remains of a broken beach sign, impaled through the stomach.
1...
Chris grabbed Mark's arm. "We have to go! Come on, man!" But then the massive slide's remains buckled and collapsed behind them. A metal beam sliced Chris across the face, nearly severing his head. He fell to his knees, twitching.
0.
And then the pump room—deep beneath the park—detonated.
A monstrous tremor shook the ground. Pipes burst like arteries. Metal and water screamed upward in a geyser of death. The floor beneath Mark cracked open. Fire licked the sky.
He fell.
Into darkness.
He landed hard. Limbs shattered. Breath gone. Blood in his mouth. He couldn't move. Couldn't scream. All he saw above was chaos: the skeletal remains of slides, mangled bodies hanging from twisted rails, water raining red from the heavens.
And then—*
He saw himself.
Lying still.
Broken.
Dead.
And then it all went silent.
The sun stopped blinking.
The colors faded.
The wind disappeared.
Even the blood slowed in mid-air.
Everything froze.
Except for the figure standing beside him. Unmoving. Faceless. Dressed like a lifeguard—but with skin stretched too tight, like wet cloth on bone. A whistle hung from its neck. No eyes. No mouth.
Only a presence. Watching.
Death… had arrived.
And Mark knew—this was only the beginning.