Kingdom Keepers III(80)
A nasal voice replied. “Roger that, John. I see that here, too. I’ll sync aroma effect two with the flyover and we’ll go again.”
“Will wait for your say-so.”
Willa glanced over at Jess to see how she was doing. Her eyes went wide.
Jess might have been doing fine, but her hair had cascaded over her head and a barrette on the side was slowly creeping down her hair, drawn by gravity.
If Willa called out to Jess, she might be heard. If she reached over and touched her Jess might jerk, and if she did the barrette was going to fall. It slipped another inch, and judging by her expression, this time Jess felt it, and knew she didn’t dare move.
Willa stretched to try to reach the barrette, but came up several inches short. Letting go of her leg to do so, she allowed it briefly to hang down. She strained against the safety belt, trying to buy herself the precious few inches needed. As she did Jess moved, however slightly, and the barrette slid down the remainder of her hair and went airborne like a small black moth—with rhinestones.
Willa swiped the air and missed the barrette. Instinctively, her leg kicked out to stop it. It was a soccer move, like trapping and balancing a ball on top of your foot. The barrette now lay atop Willa’s Converse sneaker, perched there. If she moved her leg in the slightest, it was going to slip off.
More walkie-talkie chatter. Willa was too consumed with the balancing act to pay attention. But when the words rang out, “Good to go in thirty seconds,” she knew she had trouble. She bent and lifted her knee, trying to bring the barrette high enough that either she or Jess could grab it. But in the process, it slipped from her shoe and her reflex was to kick straight out. It was a perfect kick, connecting with the barrette. She sent it flying toward the screen. It careened off a piece of the steel superstructure and into the set of seats suspended a row in front of them.
It disappeared. Though loose, it had not fallen to the floor.
The theater went dark and the flight started again. This time the ride might have been even more exciting since she knew at least some of what to expect, but Willa’s full concentration was on the row of seats ahead of them and the unseen hair clip.
As they dove down toward Coney Island, the smell of hot dogs filled the air.
“Yes!” she heard the man shout. “That’s better.”
They buzzed a windsurfer and water sprayed in their faces. There was no music now, just the light sound of wind.
Clack! An abrupt, brittle sound.
“Full stop!” the man shouted.
The music and film stopped and the cars descended. As Willa approached the poured-concrete floor she spotted Jess’s barrette on the floor, up near the front of the three rows of seats.
She tried her seat belt.
Locked!
Tried it again.
Locked!
The row of seats hit bottom and came to a full stop.
The seat belt released.
She tapped Jess on the forearm and Jess released her seat belt as well.
They had to get away from that hair clip. They couldn’t make for the entrance as they’d step right into view of the man and Rachel. Willa took Jess by the hand, crouched, and made a mad dash for the far wall and the staircase she’d spotted. Reaching the end of the line of machinery, she paused, holding Jess back. It had to be timed exactly right.
The man walked past the first row, no doubt searching for the source of the unfamiliar sound. His eyes would be trained on the floor.
Three, two…
She raced across the open space, Jess right behind her, and reached the staircase. She pulled them flat against the wall, wishing now, more than ever, that she’d perfected the art of all-clear.
“It’s a hair thing-a-ma-bobby,” the man called out. “Someone lost it and it chooses now to fall off. Can you believe that dumb luck? Stopped the whole test for a freaking hair clip. Okay! Let’s run it again.”
Willa pointed up the stairs to a red-and-white exit sign. She turned an imaginary crank by the side of her head, signaling Jess they would make their move when the film ran again.
“Thirty seconds!” Rachel called out.
Jess nodded back at Willa, looking terrified, and sick to death with guilt.
“You okay?” Willa asked.
Jess squinted and put her hand to head. “No,” she said in a forced whisper. “I keep seeing something.”
“As in—?”
“Yes. Like my dreams. Like that. And the thing is: I’ve seen it before in other dreams. Recently. Like in the past couple of days. Rectangles. Buttons, maybe. A TV, I think. And I’ve seen it twice tonight: the same pattern. It’s always the same pattern.”
“Buttons? Like the kind you sew on?”
“The kind you push.”
“Mission Space.”