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How will you protect your loved ones in the event of the eventful?” he asks.
I’ve got my eyes on the cops. They’re biking away. Yes!
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Junior. Junior Webster.”
“Really? ’Cause I think you’re Cameron Smith and you’re in some deep trouble.” He grabs my wrist in an iron-tight grip. His baseball cap reads UNITED SNOW GLOBE WHOLESALERS. “This is Employee number four fifty-seven calling base,” he says into a walkie-talkie. “Terror suspect in custody. Got the other two in my sights. Request backup. Over.”
A muffled voice worthy of a drive-thru window answers him.
“Roger that. Let’s go get your friends,” he says, yanking my arm up and behind my back.
“Please,” I say, swallowing hard. “You’re making a big mistake. I’ve been trying to save the world—you guys included!”
He angles for some cuffs. “Just hold still.”
I didn’t come this far to go back now with some armchair vigilante who spends his days stocking snow globe emporiums. “You’re not my daddy!” I shout. “I won’t get in your van! You’re not my daddy!”
“What?” he says.
“Hey! Leave that kid alone!” In the parking lot, a hulking tattooed biker gets off his motorcycle and rolls up his sleeves.
“This is a terrorist!” Employee #457 shouts back.
“Don’t make me come kick your ass!”
Employee #457’s grip goes a little slack, and I take this opportunity to break for the beach.
“Hey! Hey!” The vigilante walkie-talkies for immediate backup.
Gonzo’s stretched out, relaxing in the sand. He sees me hauling ass toward him. “Gonzo—the water! Get to the water!”
“Dude!” Gonzo shouts, pointing. I chance a glance behind me and count two more guys in baseball caps and sunglasses running toward us. Then three and four. Five big guys in mirrored sunglasses and United Snow Globe Wholesalers hats.
“Shit,” I mutter. Behind us is only ocean. And what would we swim to?
“Okay. Evasive maneuver,” I say, eyes searching. “Gonz, you break left for the taco shack. I’ll duck right and try to make it to the pier. And Balder—”
He stands firm in the sand. “I stay right here to wait for Ringhorn.”
“But Balder—”
“I shall wait!” he insists. “Those men cannot harm me. I shall be a worthy distraction. Do what you must and leave me to it.”
“All right,” I say. “Two … three … go!”
Gonzo and I run in opposite directions. With a war cry, Balder advances on the snow globers, wielding that piece of driftwood like the badass warrior he is inside. One guy’s coming after me full speed.
My legs and lungs burn, and I stumble. I try to get back up, but I’m having a hard time. My E-ticket meter’s nearly blank—there’s just a tiny shred of Tomorrowland hanging on.
“Cameron!” Dulcie’s here, reaching out. “Hold on!”
I grab her hand and we’re flying over the beach. I wrap my legs around her. “Whoa!”
Dulcie turns my face to hers. “Just don’t look down and don’t let go.”
“Trust me. I will not do either of those things.”
