sort of a “let’s gussy up this car wreck” kind of way. It’s Disney World meets the seedy underbelly of America. But with more liquor and people smoking. A grown-up amusement park.
“I’m dying to go to a casino,” I confessed to Fang.
“We’ll have to throw ourselves three more birthday parties first,” he said. “It’s illegal – we’re underage.”
“So when has that ever stopped us?” I stared at him. “That’s just a way to make sure crazy kids don’t spend all their parents’ money. We’re not crazy, and we don’t have any parents’ money. Just our own hard-earned cash from all those CSM air shows we did.”
“Which has gotta be running low about now. You really want to risk losing it?”
“Don’t get all grown-up on me. This is, like, our
“There,” Fang declared, pointing to a building in the shape of a… horse? It definitely topped the Bizarre-o-Meter of novelty architecture. “The Trojan Horse.”
Suddenly I was having second thoughts. “Wasn’t that, like, a giant sculpture that was full of enemy soldiers or something? Back in the old days?”
Fang looked blank. “Guess I missed that lesson in Max’s Home School.” He took my hand. “Come on!”
We strolled in easily across the dizzyingly patterned carpet. Barbie doll women with trays of drinks were zipping around helping to get people loopy so they’d spend more money. Even without a drop of alcohol, it took about two seconds for me to become seized with a very unnatural need to gamble.
Fang leaned close and whispered, “Don’t freak out, but there are cameras in the ceiling every couple feet.” Ordinarily, that fact would guarantee I’d break out in paranoid hives. “And notice the guys in dark suits standing around watching everyone? Don’t worry. They’re just looking for cheaters.”
“Cheaters? us?” I smiled. “I guess we’re safe.”
The flock had always looked a little older than our biological ages – guess that came from being evolutionary wonders. But I was surprised that people didn’t boot us out immediately. Imagine money being more important than law enforcement!
We got a bunch of quarters and parked ourselves in front of a Treasure Island slot machine. I fed a quarter into the slot and pulled the arm. The wheels spun fast, eventually stopping with cherries, a weight, and the number seven.
My eyes narrowed and I pushed another quarter in.
Another miss.
“That machine took my money!” I said. “I must have revenge! Fang, get on that machine next to me,” I ordered, spilling half of my quarters into a separate plastic bucket for him. “This could take a while.”
And so our hypnotic rally began. Seriously, those spinning wheels can really send you into the zone. I guess that’s the point.
Maybe that explains why it only took about fifteen minutes for the machine to start messing with me.
’Cause instead of cherries, bars, and numbers, I saw a cartoony wolf face pop up.
Then another.
Then another. Jackpot?
“Jackpot, Max!” I heard the voice of Dr. Gunther-Hagen come from behind me.
50
I WHIRLED AROUND and saw no one. No psychotic mad scientists, anyway.
“Jackpot, Max! Jackpot!” It was Fang, and he was giggling hysterically.
For those of you just joining us, Fang doesn’t giggle. Especially
So for a second, this seemed like one of the weirder dreams of recent days, until Fang clutched my shoulders and started shaking me. “Check it out, Max!”
The jangling sound of metal coins rushing out of Fang’s machine suddenly entered my consciousness. Fang had morphed into a wide-eyed maniac scrambling to scoop all of the change into his cup, then mine. “Get another cup!” he ordered, and I grabbed two more that had been orphaned nearby.
While Fang focused on the money, I did a 360 and started to sweat. Downside of a jackpot? People notice you. And in our case, it wasn’t all pat-on-the-back, “Oh, congratulations! How wonderful for you!” More like “Who the hell are you and could you even possibly be eighteen years old?”
As I saw figures moving toward us, I had a vision of troops inside the Trojan Horse flattening their enemy as they swarmed out. “Outta here
Clutching four heaping cups of coins, we booked it into a glass elevator that delivered us gamblin’ fools down, down, down the leg of the Trojan Horse to ground level.
“Remind me never to go to a place called the Trojan Horse again,” I said.
“What’re you talking about? It was good luck,” Fang countered.
“Not exactly,” I said, as the glass door slid open and Dr. Hoonie-Goonie was standing there to greet us.
51
DID I WHIRL INSTANTLY, fists clenched, legs tensing for battle? Or did I stay calm, act casual, and walk right on by the doc as if I hadn’t even seen him?
You guessed it – neither. Instead, I dropped one of my cups of coins. Easily a couple hundred dollars. Fang seemed more upset by the spillage than by the looming threat of evil.
“Hello, Max, Fang,” said Dr. Gunther-Hagen, smiling as he watched Fang scramble to recover his winnings. “Strange seeing you here. I didn’t think you were the gambling types.”
“We’re not,” I said. “Fang, leave that money for some poor soul who really needs it,” I said, all Mother Teresa again. Except I didn’t leave my cups of cash behind.
I stepped out of the elevator, squinting in the bright light. “Why are you here?” See, this is where my lack of social graces comes in handy. I don’t waste time and energy on thinking of what the nice thing to do is.
Dr. Hans’s eyebrows rose. “I’m here for a professional convention, being held at one of the resorts. But why are you here? Where’s the rest of the flock?”
“At Ripley’s,” I said. “So, what, you saw us and decided to just pop in, say hi?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Hans pleasantly. “Is Dylan with you? How is he progressing?”
“Dandy!” I lied again. “We left him over at one of the craps tables. That way.” I pointed back to the elevator. “I’m sure he can’t wait to see you!”
“We have to go,” said Fang, putting his hand on my arm.
“Wait, please,” said Dr. Hans. “I’m happy to have run into you. I wanted to reiterate what I said in Africa. And I wanted to make sure you received my offer for Iggy. Is it not compelling? You could give him the gift of sight, in return for a little cooperation. You could be invaluable to my project because – well, you’re a miracle, really.”
Gosh, a miracle! It had been ages since someone called me that. Actually, no one had ever called me that.
“You planning to turn Max into another one of your
Dr. G-H looked around, as if realizing what a public place this was. He gestured us over toward some isolated benches in the entry plaza. “The apocalypse is coming. You’ve been on a mission to save the world. Do you understand how you’re supposed to do that?”
Okay, the details on that had been sketchy, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“By having you chop off one of my wings to see if it grows back? I don’t think so.”
He went on. “Max, I promise you will remain intact. My research will help current humans adapt, so they can live in the radically different environment we’ll all be facing. We estimate that more than half the world’s population will simply disappear; I’ve found a way to keep some people alive long enough to ensure that the human race isn’t extinguished entirely.” His voice was pleading, his face earnest.
“You’re a prince,” I said. “But I gave you my answer back in Africa.”
He paused a second, then continued. “I anticipate people will be scared and worried. Most of them won’t understand what I hope to accomplish. But if you were my spokesperson, demonstrating that being different can be wonderful and even necessary, then I could get many, many more people to understand and accept my program.”
Who did this guy think he was? The world’s savior? Was that position even open? And what did he want me to be? A walking, talking, flying commercial?
“It seems like a worthy cause,” I said. I felt Fang’s muscles tense. “Tell you what – I’ll go ahead and jump on this crazy bandwagon. Count me in.”
Dr. Hans’s eyes widened and a smile lit his face. “Max, that’s wonderf -”
“My price is a million dollars.” I know. I’m bad.
“My dear” – he glanced with amusement at my and Fang’s hoard of coins – “I do believe you just said you didn’t need any money.”
“I said we weren’t gambling types. I’m all about serious business, Doc. And I’m telling you that a million dollars is what it will take for me to even consider this gig.”
I could see the wheels turning in his head. I bet those hamsters were tired.
“I could do a million dollars,” he said slowly, nodding.
Oh, I forgot – the guy was a billionaire arts patron and he owned a bunch of huge pharma companies that bankrolled all his plans.
“I meant a million dollars a day,” I revised. Don’t ever say I’m not a tough negotiator.
“This isn’t a joke, Max,” he said coldly. “You might think carefully about what you say to me. You’ve already lied to me once today. I know the flock isn’t with you. I also know Dylan isn’t either, even though he
I stood my ground. “You evil scientists are all the same – evil. Count me out.”
Fang and I brushed past Dr. God and walked quickly but smoothly to the exit. It was barely noon, and I’d already made a huge enemy.
Dang, I’m good.
52
