Meet Me On The Midway. Amie Denman

not terrifying enough for teenagers or thrill-seekers. To make it more interesting, the ride had been enclosed about a decade ago. The coaster now had strobe lights and special effects, making it feel like a rocketing ride through the blackness of space.

      Everything about the ride was dark. Even the queue lines snaking back and forth inside the large steel structure had limited light.

      Scott reached the entrance to the ride first and paused to talk to the operator guarding the turnstile and checking the heights of hopeful kids. Evie saw the summer worker gesture inside and explain something to Scott. He raced ahead into the building and Evie followed, willing her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.

      Her breath came in jagged gasps, and she was glad she didn’t have to carry the large first-aid bag Scott had with him. She wondered what went through his mind on the way to an emergency.

      They wound through the queue lines, bumping against the silver rails and jostling people. Evie wished someone had thought to turn on the emergency lighting. Searching in the dark in a crowded venue for a person having a heart attack was torture. Minutes could mean the difference between life and death. Why had no one turned on the lights?

      She shouted to the worker at the door to hit the emergency lights, but it was noisy and the girl didn’t hear. Evie considered running back and doing it herself, but she didn’t want to leave Scott alone to face whatever they found. She squinted her eyes and tried to focus.

      “Where is he?” Scott said aloud. “Fire department!” he shouted. “Anyone know who called us?”

      A summer worker ran from the other direction and met them under a replica of a planet.

      “I called it in,” the kid said. “A man was clutching his chest and gasping, his wife was crying. But they disappeared. I swear.”

      Evie felt sorry for the teenager. He was clearly shocked by what he’d seen.

      “Why didn’t you stay with them?” Scott growled. The employee shrank back, looking desperately around, holding up his phone with the flashlight app.

      A little boy who appeared to be about ten stepped out of the line, tugged at Evie’s arm and pointed. “I know where they went,” he said. “I saw some people go through there.” He gestured toward an emergency exit that would open onto the beach side of the structure if her orientation wasn’t a complete disaster.

      Without hesitation, Scott climbed over the silver rail and headed for the emergency exit. Evie stayed right behind him, clambering through the waiting guests, cell phone in hand, wishing she knew what awaited them on the other side of the door.

      Scott burst outside with Evie at his heels. The bright sunshine reflecting off the sand and water blinded them temporarily. Scott was the first to recover. He whirled and dropped to his knees next to the man on the ground.

      Evie gasped. The man was about fifty years old. Overweight but not obese. Ghastly gray. Sweating. Clutching his chest. A woman sat on the ground next to him, sobbing. Two pre-teen children stood behind their mother, their faces tearstained and panicked.

      Scott zipped open his bag and pulled out oxygen tubing. He turned briefly and handed his radio to Evie. “Call it in, give our exact location and get me an ambulance. Now.”

      She dropped her cell phone and took the radio. With trembling fingers, she pressed the button on the side. In all her years at Starlight Point, she’d never had to use a radio in an emergency.

      “Dispatch, this is Evie Hamilton.”

      “Go ahead, Evie,” a woman said. Evie knew the voice. Louise Higgins had worked dispatch at Starlight Point for years. There was curiosity in her familiar voice.

      “I need an ambulance on the beach side of the Space Race.”

      “Is this the same call, the possible MI?” the dispatcher asked.

      “Yes. Definitely an MI. Beach side emergency exit. Space Race.” Repeating the exact location made her feel better. As if it could bring help faster.

      And they needed it.

      The man was apologizing, clutching the hands of his wife and kids and telling them he was sorry for every unkind word he’d ever said.

      He clearly believed he was dying.

      “Tell them to drive the ambulance right down the midway,” Evie told the dispatcher. “Whatever it takes.”