The simulator shuddered. The smell of an electrical short—like the air before a storm—continued to flood the cabin. Their screams were lost amid the groan and complaint of the failing mechanics.
The car reached the end of the track and flew off into space.
Amanda thrust her arms toward the overhead door, but this time like she was lifting an incredibly heavy set of gym weights. Going for an Olympic record.
“STEADY!” Finn shouted, as the car tilted down, now plummeting into the depths of the rock canyon.
The hatch door rumbled and bent, bulged and shuddered, the seal cracking open, first a fraction of an inch, then wider.
“MORE!!!!” Finn said, as the ground—a rock bottom, like a dry riverbed—rushed toward them at over three hundred miles per hour.
The cry of the metal hatch now overpowered any other sound. Amanda’s face was scarlet and sweaty, her arm muscles bulging as her bones seemed to bend to breaking.
The sheet metal tore at the location of both pneumatic hook locks that secured the hatch.
Two inches…three…
The lid blew open.
The ride shut down. Smoke coiled from motors and servos.
A group of Cast Members rushed inside, aiming fire extinguishers that belched a yellow foam.
Finn and Amanda hung against the chest restraints as the simulator rotated forward ninety degrees, facing the ground. It made it hard to see what was going on. Some guy was shouting a bunch of orders.
Finn heard Megan say, “Are you okay? We’re getting you out! Hang on, you’re almost out.”
The chest restraints released without notice. Finn and Amanda fell, crashing into the flat-panel display and cracking its safety glass. Finn helped Amanda up, and Megan offered them her hand. They climbed out.
“Wow,” Finn said, “that’s incredibly lifelike.”
Amanda played along. “Must be expensive if they do that every time.”
They exited from the smoke and chaos. Charlene stood there, her full attention on their joined hands. Finn hadn’t even realized that he and Amanda were holding hands. He let go a little abruptly.
Charlene leaned in to examine the twisted wreckage. Smoke and steam and the gas from the fire extinguishers commingled. She fanned it away from her face.
“What happened in there?” she asked.
Amanda said, “I think next time I’ll design my own ride.”
“You don’t think I had something to do with that…that…” Charlene stammered, “…with whatever happened in there, do you?”
“You mean just because you talked us into coming here in the first place and you designed our roller coaster? Now, why would I think that?” Amanda said.
“Finn?” Charlene pleaded.
“You gave us the card, Charlie,” he said, using a nickname for her only he used. “You designed the ride.” And Maleficent’s locked in a jail cell, he felt like adding. Use of her nickname was an attempt at intimacy, to remind her that he still considered her a close friend, despite what had happened. But it backfired. Amanda heard him and clearly resented it.
“Really?” Amanda said to him. “You’re going to sweet-talk her after she almost killed us?” She stormed off down the exit stairs.
“Amanda! Wait!” Finn called after her.
“I promise you,” Charlene said, “I didn’t do anything! I had nothing to do with this. It wasn’t me!”
They’d been close friends for more than two years. Finn said, “Listen, do I want to think you sabotaged the simulator? Come on!” But she’d designed the ride, he reminded himself.
Finn couldn’t let Amanda get away. He hurried out after her. Charlene followed at a run.
The building seemed more crowded. He recognized nearly everyone—even though there were four hundred kids in his grade.
“KK rules!” he called back to Charlene. His team had long since agreed that when in the Parks no one flew solo. The Overtakers took advantage of Keepers off on their own. In pairs or teams their chances for survival increased.
Finn shoved his way through the crowd, catching only fleeting glimpses of the back of Amanda’s head. She was wasting no time trying to get out of there. She disappeared down the staircase—much too far ahead to hear him calling after her.
Charlene closed in from behind him.
He glanced over the rail, looking down, hoping to catch a glimpse of Amanda as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
His breath caught.
Not possible.
Snow White’s Evil Queen stood amid a torrent of admirers, all begging for autographs. But the Evil Queen wasn’t looking at her fans; she was locked onto Finn like a laser-guided missile.
He jumped back from the rail, out of the way of her gaze. A shudder of terror flooded him. If it was a legitimate Cast Member, fine. But if it was an Overtaker—if it was the real Evil Queen—then she could throw spells, conjure curses, mix potions to transfigure herself into an ugly old peddler offering a poisoned apple. In short, she was nothing to mess with.