“Easy!” Maybeck pulled Finn against the wall. Through the lounge windows that looked out onto the pavilion’s dark lower level, lit only by the dim glow of exit signs, the boys could see two jesters and a crash-test dummy. They appeared to be searching the various scenes and attractions.
The crash-test dummy turned and raised its head toward the lounge. It lifted its robotic arm and pointed.
“Wayne must still be in the building.”
“Forget about him, would you?” Maybeck said. “Right now, we’ve got to get out of here. And we’ve got to make sure Charlene and Philby make it too.”
He pushed the phone’s direct-connect button. “Philby?”
“Here.”
“We’ve got—”
“Trouble. I know. I’m watching everyone. I heard Willa just now. Charlene’s at the front door, pinned there by the lions. Willa’s right: the snake’s at the back exit. That dummy—there are two of them, actually—looks like he’s headed for the stairs. I cut the lights. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“Direct us?” Finn asked, leaning toward Maybeck’s phone. “Can you get us out of here?”
“There are a lot of cameras, to be sure. But it’s not like I can see everywhere.”
“How many exits are there?” Finn asked.
“Twelve,” came Philby’s answer immediately.
“And they only have two blocked?” Maybeck said. “So what’s the big deal?”
“The pavilion is closed. Remember?” Philby said. “The other exits are locked—not electronically, but with actual keys. Front and back are the only ways out. The sunroom windows are locked as well. That stopped Charlene.”
“Roach motel,” Maybeck said.
Finn knew he was right: the Overtakers had let them in, but were now blocking their way out. The situation had every appearance of having been a trap from the start.
“Did you see where they took Wayne?” Finn asked Philby. Maybeck grimaced; he didn’t want Finn hung up on rescuing the old man.
“Never saw him,” Philby reported. “Not in any of the cameras.”
“Then he’s probably still on this floor somewhere,” Finn said to Maybeck. “We can find him and get him.”
“Leave it alone, Whitman. He was bait. That’s all. We need to get out of here.” To the phone he said, “Any ideas, genius?”
“Yeah, but you won’t like it,” Philby replied.
“How do you know?” Maybeck barked into the phone. “Let’s hear it.”
“Because it involves heights.”
Maybeck’s shoulders slumped. To Finn he said, “How did I know he was going to say that?”
Philby told them his plan.
37
CHARLENE HAD MONITORED the direct-connect call between Maybeck and Philby. She cut in.
“Philby, I could use a little help here,” she said. “The door is locked behind me.”
The stone lions were advancing one heavy step at a time, making the path shake.
With each step, Charlene had backed up until her spine was pressed against the pavilion’s front-door glass. The four trolls had collected on the other side of the door but obviously had no intention of becoming involved with the lions, even if, theoretically, they were on the same team.
“Philby?” she repeated.
Charlene considered running for it. Being made of stone, the lions were moving sluggishly. But maybe their slow movement was nothing more than them stalking her. She had three cats and loved to watch them stalk their toys, or a lizard in the backyard, or a seagull. She loved the controlled complexity of the hunt, the cats’ unwavering focus and fierce concentration. She saw that same look now in the gray stone eyes of the lions. She was willing to bet that they could move very fast if need be, and had no desire to test her theory.
“Okay,” Philby said after an exasperatingly long pause. “I’ve got it. My theory is—”
“Lose the theory,” she said.
The lions were less than fifteen feet away and moving steadily toward her.
“Now would be a good time to actually do something,” she added. “As in…right now. This very second.”
Right on cue, the lawn sprinklers erupted, spewing cold water. There were spray nozzles edging the entry path, as well as circular sprinklers out in the lawn. Thankfully, none of them was perfectly set, meaning that all the planters, the grass, and the entry path were suddenly wet and getting wetter.
The lions moved away from the edges of the path and bumped into each other, frantic to avoid the spray. Cats hate water!
Charlene vaulted over the green metal fence and took off running, keeping herself in the thick of the spray. She heard a collision as one of the lions attempted to charge her but struck the fencing, denting it. It whined as it was hit by the water.