The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [156]
“Charlie… wait…!” I call out.
He doesn’t even turn around. I take off after him, but he’s already four families in front of us. Jumping up for a better view, I follow his blond hair as it swerves through the crowd. As he passes the Country Bear Jamboree, he glances back to make sure I’m with him, but the more I try to catch up, the further Gillian falls behind. Straddling between them, I try my best to keep it even, but sooner or later one has to give.
I look over my shoulder at Gillian, who’s finally finding some speed. “C’mon!” I call out, waving her forward. Cutting past a family with their stroller, I start to accelerate. But as I scope ahead to find Charlie, he’s nowhere in sight. I crane my neck and scan the heads of the crowd, hunting for his blond hair. It’s not there. I check again. Nothing. I don’t care how mad he was; there’s no way he’d leave without me.
Feeling that twitch in my stomach from when we got separated before, I punch the panic button and race forward. “Excuse me… coming through…” I call to the crowd as I angle and shove between them. As Gillian catches up, I’m still searching the swarm of heads for Charlie’s hair color. The short-haired blond with the J. Crew–preppy family… the messy strawberry blond with the Louisiana State baseball hat… even the dyed blond with the visible black roots. I check each one. He’s got to be here somewhere. Across the street, a ten-year-old boy shoots a cork popgun straight at his sister’s face. Behind me, two kids chase each other with purple cotton-candy-colored tongues. Next to me, a boy cries and his father threatens to take him home. “Yankee Doodle” blares from the speakers in the lampposts. I can barely think straight. Gillian reaches out to hold my hand. I don’t want it right now. Up ahead, the street bears to the left. I’m running out of space. I give it one last shot.
“Charlie!” I shout.
Twenty feet in front of me, a familiar blond mop-top juts out from behind the coonskin cap kiosk. Charlie! “Charlie!” I call out, waving both hands over my head.
Get down! he motions, patting the air, palms downward.
What’re you—?
Get down! Now!
He looks back across the street and I follow his gaze—through the mob—on the far corner of the Pecos Bill Cafe. I spot the two dark suits that stand out amidst the Mickey Mouse T-shirt crowd. And then they spot me.
Gallo’s eyes narrow into a jet black glare. Shoving his way between a young couple, he plows into the crowd. DeSanctis is right behind him.
76
You had to yell, didn’t you?” Charlie asks as Gillian and I blow past the kiosk.
“Me? I wasn’t the one who—” I cut myself off and focus back on Gallo. Across the street, he’s fighting through the heart of the throng. And we’re almost out of running room. In front of us, the road dead-ends at a waist-high swinging wooden gate. On our left, Gallo pushes even closer.
“Down here,” Gillian says, pointing to the right.
Charlie shakes his head. It doesn’t matter if it’s the best path; he’s not giving her the chance. With a sharp tug, he pulls open the wooden gate and runs up what looks like the incline of an asphalt driveway. He’s headed straight for a green wooden wall that surrounds the whole park. It has to be at least eight feet high. There’s no way we’re climbing over this one.
“Is he nuts?” Gillian asks.
“Charlie… stop!” I shout, chasing after him. “It’s a dead end!” As he clears the highest point of the driveway, the road slopes down toward the green wall. From where I’m running—just inside the gate—he’s got nowhere to go. “Get out of there!” I yell. Charlie keeps going.
But as I hit the peak of the driveway, I finally see what’s got his attention. I didn’t notice it at first—the