Jurassic Mayhem
Fiction by Emily Legault
Where the Goldenrod Grows by Elijah Costes
The salty smell of popcorn and French fries wafted through the entire first floor of the movie theatre and into the arcade. Ellie and Jake stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces lit up by the glowing screen of “DINOHuntersTM: Jurassic Mayhem.” Their shiny green Jeep was tucked in the corner, past the rows of blinking, clacking games, angry buzzers, and young voices ringing out.
“Watch out! On your left!” Jake shouted, leaning into the game as though he himself could dodge the velociraptor on screen.
He nudged Ellie. He seemed bigger than most kids their age, his shoulder higher than hers. He straightened and readjusted his blue gun. Ellie laughed, finger flying over the trigger button, her red gun feeling heavy in her grasp. The spiral cord connecting their guns to the centre console was a constant reminder of their shared mission.
It hadn’t been easy, at first. Ellie was firing into a cluster of velociraptors charging at them, and in the panic of trying to hit them all at once, she had missed her mark. The screen flashed red with claw marks that nearly shredded them.
“Why’d you do that? Get em!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Ellie had snapped, frustration bubbling in her chest.
Jake gave her a look that sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. “You’re wasting the tokens.”
“They’re my tokens,” she shot back. She couldn’t understand why he was so upset. It wasn’t like she’d meant to screw up. The game was hard. Boys usually had video games to practice at home, too.
He finally said, quieter than before: “Just... aim for the head next time. I’ll take out the ones on the right for you.”
Ellie had felt a lump form in her throat but nodded quickly, determined not to mess it up again. Her fingers moved faster, more controlled, and the game finally gave them some room to breathe.
“Six seconds!” he said.
“Five now!” she said.
Leaning in too, she watched her crosshairs slice across the screen. Ellie prayed the timer wouldn’t hit zero. With perfect timing, her hit landed, taking down a charging dinosaur before it reached them. As the next level loaded in, she tightened her blonde pigtails, grinning wide, hopefully earning his approval.
Level after level, battling wave after wave of dinosaurs, the arcade became a distant hum. They were brave explorers deep in the jungle, the air thick with humidity. Hot, yellow sunlight reflected off the car. Their reckless Jeep driver sent them lurching forward, almost sending their helmets rolling in the mud. Ellie squinted. To the towering carnivores, they probably looked like a green beetle skittering across a log.
Ellie didn't blame them for being so violent. She would be protective of her home, too. If she felt like she had a home, that is. The East Coast ideal of a little cute house on a little cute street with a screen door on the porch was as out of reach as the Cretaceous period. Every time her parents made her move, it was the same routine: new bedroom, new bus stop, new school, no friends. With Jake, it was so easy. Just five minutes with no parents’ jobs uprooting her world, forcing her next evolution. The dinosaurs stomping after them ignited the little thrill that only came from sharing something awesome with a friend.
Had they only met an hour ago? After exiting the darkened theatre, Ellie had chugged the end of her strawberry soda. This was the only arcade time she got. They had each run over like the game was calling just to them. The on-screen archeologist delivering the parameters for the special mission hadn’t hurt, either. They were both reaching for a plastic gun when they had noticed that someone else might be taking a turn.
“I can go after,” he had said, one foot on the metal frame, one on solid ground.
“Well, I’d need a player two,” she had said.
“I’m Jake.”
She had started slotting in the required tokens. “Ellie.”
Now, they had blasted their way to the game’s final level. The roar sounded closer than ever, like a lion and a construction crane had a baby. A giant T. rex stomped its way toward them. The screen shook. The rumble of the plastic guns numbed their hands. It felt like all eleven years of Ellie’s existence had led to this very moment, this triumph. Then came a call from the edge of the arcade, slicing like a machete through the thick underbrush.
“Jake! Time to go!”
Jake’s shoulders sagged, and he looked over at Ellie. Bold red letters on the screen read “Continue?” with a timer counting down from thirty. She shot him a pleading look, as if sheer willpower could keep him there. She wanted to tell him to run, or to hide deep in the Jurassic jungle, to prolong his parents dragging him away, but they weren’t little kids.
It wasn’t fair. They were just figuring out the game—the rhythm of it all. Jake was already shifting, like the world was pulling him away, his eyes distant, his body turning toward the door. She was alone, left to find her footing amidst something new, again.
“Just… just a few more minutes?” Ellie said, her voice hopeful.
His mom called out again, firmer this time. His baby brother was making squirming noises. Ellie remembered that at her old school, someone’s mom picked them up with a baby who made those noises—the ones followed by ear-splitting wailing. Jake grunted and docked the blue gun, the clatter breaking the spell they’d been under. Ellie tried to smile, to bestow a better feeling on him than she felt, but there was a weight in her chest, something heavier than the red gun in her small hands.
“See you some other time?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure if it was a question or just a hope she had to say out loud.
Jake gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah. Maybe.”
They both knew how big the world was, that finding each other again would probably be as unlikely as winning this final level solo. He gave her a small wave. The popcorn and mini M&M’s in Ellie’s stomach weren’t sitting so well anymore. Jake walked away, his mom’s hand on his shoulder, and the sounds of the arcade faded back in.
Ellie looked back at the screen where the T. rex loomed and the “Player 2” prompt blinked. Her eyes blurred, the game’s colours smudging together, and her mouth felt dry as she choked down her frustration. She took a shaky breath and gave the gun a squeeze, as if maybe, if she kept playing, he would be right back at her side.
Emily Legault (she/her) is a creative and professional writing student at Concordia University. Her work has appeared in Scribbles, and she hopes to share her writing with a vaster audience. Soon to graduate, she plans to feed her passion for children's literature, theatre, editing, hysterical absurdity, and, of course, redundancies.