The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

“On the count of three,” Jazz said, gripping Hondo with one arm.

“Forget the count!” I hollered. “Let’s get out of here.”

The wind groaned angrily. Trees bent and writhed. Then a massive black hole opened in the sky, sucking everything into it. Even the oxygen. Flaco circled back, closer and closer to the edge. He was only three feet away.

“Let’s fly!” Brooks shouted.

Easy for her to say. She was part hawk!

“Two,” Jazz shouted.

Wait—what happened to one?

I imagined myself as the jaguar, with the power of those muscular back legs. Flaco was close enough that it wouldn’t take much of a leap. I could do this.

“Three.”

We launched ourselves into the air. I used my one good leg, thrusting myself with all I had. At the last second a gust of wind jerked the glider to the right. I came up short, barely latching onto the side rail. Everyone was tucked safely in the flying go-kart/whatever. And me? I was dangling off the side.

Brooks leaned over the edge. “Zane! What’re you doing?”

“Oh, you know… just enjoying the view.”

Don’t let go, I told myself. Don’t let go.

“Take my hand!”

I was scared to, I admit it. But I couldn’t hang on to the

side of this thing for long. With a deep breath, I reached up and grabbed hold of her hand. She hauled me into the glider, where I clung to the seat for dear life.

“No time to be a thrill-seeker,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah…” I groaned. “Thrill.”

“You okay?” Jazz called from the front seat. Hondo was still sagging over his shoulder.

I nodded, trying to get control of my breathing.

“Good driving, eh?” Flaco said. Who knew skeletons could beam with pride?

The engine whirred as we burst through a sheet of cold silver light, leaving the broken imitation world behind. It was like passing through a waterfall without the water.

We sailed high above Santa Monica. Over traffic-packed streets lit up with red taillights. A dark-haired woman was pushing a stroller below, and she walked with a small skip in her step. Like my mom. I wondered if she was back home yet. What had she said to Hurakan to get him to help me? Had she always known where to find him? I needed to sleep so I could talk to Ms. Cab and ask her to check on my mom. Then I realized… the eyeball was in my backpack, which was still at Jazz’s.

“Where are we going?” I shouted. “To your place?”

“Not safe there,” Jazz hollered back.

“I need my eyeball!” I screamed, immediately realizing how stupid that sounded.

“Woo-hoo!” Brooks leaned halfway out of the glider. “Faster!”

Flaco obliged, and I felt sick as I gripped the edge of my seat.

The salt air was my first clue we were headed back to the beach. When we got closer to the sand, I thought we’d land, but Flaco kept on going, right over the water, farther and farther toward the dark horizon. Brooks wasn’t leaning out anymore.

Brooks tapped Jazz on the shoulder. “What… what are we doing here?”