The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [171]
Pushing off his back leg and throwing all his weight into it, Charlie swung for the bleachers. Like an ancient mace on a metal chain, the fifteen-pound head tore through the air. There was a loud pop as it bashed into Gillian’s ear. The graphite head cracked on impact, sending a lightning-shaped fissure across Pluto’s eyes—and sending Gillian straight to the floor. She crash-landed on the concrete, right at Charlie’s feet. This time, she didn’t get up. But as Charlie finally took a breath, he felt a familiar ripple inside his chest. Lurching forward, he let go of the leather strap. He had to. He couldn’t hold on. Pluto’s head thunked on the ground, and Charlie staggered sideways as a needle of pain stabbed him through the heart.
He crashed into a clothing rack, knocking another set of costumes to the ground. His heart bubbled and thumped. It felt like there was a bag of worms twisting inside his chest. Please… not now… he begged. Turning to run for Oliver, he gripped the costume racks and fought his way down the aisle, past the wooden folding-screen. The worms multiplied, clamping around his windpipe.
“Hhhh—” A sharp wheeze climbed through his throat. “Hhhhh—” Charlie gasped for air as his heartbeat quickened, then started pounding. Faster and faster, it was a drumroll inside his chest. He shut his eyes… felt for his pulse… God… it was at full gallop…
“O-Ollie…” he called out as his voice cracked. “Ollie!” Stumbling back along the main hallway, he crashed through the utility closet, set his shaking hand on the doorknob, and tugged the door open. All he had to do was step through. He held on to the wall and tried to pull himself forward. It seemed so close, but it somehow kept moving away… He felt his neck soaking. The worms squirmed, digging and squeezing like a fist around his heart. Charlie tried to breathe, but nothing came in. Through the doorway, Oliver and Shep were fighting. Shep! Now he knew it was a dream. Still, as Charlie looked on… Ollie… Ollie was winning. The tears flooded his eyes as Shep and Ollie both disappeared. You got ’em, bro… The fist tightened, gripping his heart. His whole face clenched to fight the pressure. It was about to pop. And then… as he sagged to his knees… it did.
“Ollie…” he stuttered with one last wheeze. He tried to add a goodbye—but as his face hit concrete—it never came.
87
Oliver, I’m not asking you again,” Shep warns. “Where the hell’s my money?” Staggering backwards from his most recent punch, I move away from the floats and toward the side wall.
Behind me, I’m all out of running space. Tripping through the minefield of hula-hoops, ringmaster hats, and dozens of other random props that’re piled along the floor, I frantically search for something… anything… I can use as a weapon. The only thing close is an ornate candelabra—but when I pick it up, it weighs less than a pound—all Styrofoam. I almost forgot. Disney World.
Rushing straight at me, Shep rumbles through the piles of props and grabs me by the lapels. “Last chance,” he warns, his hot breath smothering my face. “Where. Is. My. Money?”
My head’s ringing like a firehouse. I can barely move it side to side. “Drop dead, dickhead. You’re never getting a dime.”
Enraged, he flings me backwards toward an enormous rocking horse. My head bangs back against the wooden saddle, but Shep doesn’t let go. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Drop… dead.”
Spinning me around, he sends me face-first toward an oversized jack-in-the-box. My face pancakes against the front of it, and the sickening crunch tells me my nose is broken. “Wanna try that again?” Shep asks, now holding the back of my neck.
I look up at him with one good eye. My voice barely comes out. “D-Drop…”
Snarling like an animal, he whips me around and hurls me toward a rolling popcorn cart. I thrust my hands out to protect my face, but I’m moving too fast. I smash through the glass, and as it shatters everywhere, my hands are sliced by the shards. Crashing on my stomach inside the cart, I notice a triangular, stray fragment