Kingdom Keepers III(94)

“Bad news!” he said.

Finn battled the forces and managed to turn his head around to see an empty car gaining on them. If the excess speed didn’t throw their car off the track, then a collision would take care of them. It was the perfect Overtaker move: the wreck would be blamed on two “vandals” who had broken into the park, switched on the ride, and then been hit and killed by an empty car. No one to blame but the boys themselves. He could almost hear Maleficent laughing. None of them had ever talked about it, but they all believed that should their DHIs ever be killed outright, their sleeping selves would be locked in the Syndrome forever. They would never awaken.

“We’ve got major problems!” Finn hollered to be heard over the roar of the ride.

“You think?” Philby roared back at him.

Philby had his string of shoes ready. Strung together, the four running shoes looked like an awkward kite tail or string of dead fish. They looked like something invented just to pass the time, with one lace tied to the next in a daisy chain.

Finn felt like challenging Philby, like holding his feet to the fire and asking why now, of all times, the guy was stringing shoes together. But he knew better. Philby was a man of purpose. Everything he did seemed calculated, a means to an end; if anything, the guy didn’t loosen up enough. So if Philby wanted to tie a bunch of shoes together while going in excess of ninety miles per hour, riding in a car about to jump the track and kill Finn along with him, then so be it: tie away.

“Here’s…the…deal,” Philby said, each word an effort to produce because of the surprising amount of pressure imposed upon his chest by the g-force. “When I say now we’re going to jump. We’re going off your side, over the rail, and then hold on tight. We’re too high up—and probably over concrete—to let ourselves fall. So we’re going to hang from the outside of the retaining wall. The safety wall. Okay? But listen, we have to get over the wall. It’s going to be messy.”

“Messy? You think I can time a jump going a hundred miles per hour?” Finn gasped.

“We won’t be going a hundred,” Philby said. “Hang on tight…”

Finn made the mistake of looking back: the empty test car was bearing down on them. It was either going to collide and throw them from the car, or bump their car off the track. What was Philby thinking?

Philby flung the string of shoes over the windshield toward the vehicle’s right front panel.

“What the—?” Finn said.

“The emergency stop,” Philby said. “That’s why we’ve got to hold on tight.”

Finn understood then: leave it to Philby to figure this out. He hunkered down and braced himself, knees thrust forward into the melted dash. He recalled all the times his parents had chided him about wearing seat belts, but that wasn’t an option now, the seat belts were no longer functioning thanks to the excessive heat.

Philby launched his kite tail a second time. The lead shoe slapped the side of the car, just missing the large red plastic emergency stop button.

“Close!” he shouted. He had meant Philby’s attempt, but he noticed that the word applied to the trailing car as well: they were about to be rear-ended.

Philby wound up the chain of shoes and launched it again. Finn’s running shoe slapped the side of the car, but missed the button again.

Wham! The empty car smashed into the back bumper. The boys whipped forward and Finn nearly left the moving car. He pulled himself back inside.

Philby tried a different technique. He swung hard and got the string of shoes going over his head in a circle, like a cowboy’s lasso, like a helicopter blade. The car bumped them from behind again, and then backed off as if it had a mind of its own.

Finn saw what was happening: the trailing car’s rear tires smoked as it took aim to knock them from the track.

Philby propped himself up with just his left hand holding the dash, dropping his right and lowering the circle of shoes with the deftness of a golf pro. Finn’s running shoe smashed into the red button and the car’s brakes screeched. Finn reached out and grabbed Philby by the belt as Philby lifted off his feet, both hands over his head, ready to fly to his death. Finn held on with all his strength. The test car screamed, shuddered, and slowed.

Behind them, the empty car, its tires smoking, barreled toward them, a collision imminent.

“Now!” Philby shouted.

Finn jumped from the moving car. His chest hit the sheet-metal retaining wall, and he turned, his fingers seeking purchase. He caught hold, stopped himself, and then let go, dropping another three feet. He snagged hold of the lip of the ride at track level, his feet dangling twenty feet above the plaza below.