Fang looked blank. “Guess I missed that lesson in Max’s Home School.” He took my hand. “Come on!”
We strolled in easily across the dizzyingly patterned carpet. Barbie doll women with trays of drinks were zipping around helping to get people loopy so they’d spend more money. Even without a drop of alcohol, it took about two seconds for me to become seized with a very unnatural need to gamble.
Fang leaned close and whispered, “Don’t freak out, but there are cameras in the ceiling every couple feet.” Ordinarily, that fact would guarantee I’d break out in paranoid hives. “And notice the guys in dark suits standing around watching everyone? Don’t worry. They’re just looking for cheaters.”
“Cheaters? us?” I smiled. “I guess we’re safe.”
The flock had always looked a little older than our biological ages — guess that came from being evolutionary wonders. But I was surprised that people didn’t boot us out immediately. Imagine money being more important than law enforcement!
We got a bunch of quarters and parked ourselves in front of a Treasure Island slot machine. I fed a quarter into the slot and pulled the arm. The wheels spun fast, eventually stopping with cherries, a weight, and the number seven.
My eyes narrowed and I pushed another quarter in.
Another miss.
“That machine took my money!” I said. “I must have revenge! Fang, get on that machine next to me,” I ordered, spilling half of my quarters into a separate plastic bucket for him. “This could take a while.”
And so our hypnotic rally began. Seriously, those spinning wheels can really send you into the zone. I guess that’s the point.
Maybe that explains why it only took about fifteen minutes for the machine to start messing with me.
’Cause instead of cherries, bars, and numbers, I saw a cartoony wolf face pop up.
Then another.
Then another. Jackpot?
“Jackpot, Max!” I heard the voice of Dr. Gunther-Hagen come from behind me.
50
I WHIRLED AROUND and saw no one. No psychotic mad scientists, anyway.
“Jackpot, Max! Jackpot!” It was Fang, and he was giggling hysterically.
For those of you just joining us, Fang doesn’t giggle. Especially hysterically.
So for a second, this seemed like one of the weirder dreams of recent days, until Fang clutched my shoulders and started shaking me. “Check it out, Max!”
The jangling sound of metal coins rushing out of Fang’s machine suddenly entered my consciousness. Fang had morphed into a wide-eyed maniac scrambling to scoop all of the change into his cup, then mine. “Get another cup!” he ordered, and I grabbed two more that had been orphaned nearby.
While Fang focused on the money, I did a 360 and started to sweat. Downside of a jackpot? People notice you. And in our case, it wasn’t all pat-on-the-back, “Oh, congratulations! How wonderful for you!” More like “Who the hell are you and could you even possibly be eighteen years old?”
As I saw figures moving toward us, I had a vision of troops inside the Trojan Horse flattening their enemy as they swarmed out. “Outta here now, Fang!” I said in my most don’t-even-think-of-arguing-with-me voice.
Clutching four heaping cups of coins, we booked it into a glass elevator that delivered us gamblin’ fools down, down, down the leg of the Trojan Horse to ground level.
“Remind me never to go to a place called the Trojan Horse again,” I said.
“What’re you talking about? It was good luck,” Fang countered.
“Not exactly,” I said, as the glass door slid open and Dr. Hoonie-Goonie was standing there to greet us.
51
DID I WHIRL INSTANTLY, fists clenched, legs tensing for battle? Or did I stay calm, act casual, and walk right on by the doc as if I hadn’t even seen him?
You guessed it — neither. Instead, I dropped one of my cups of coins. Easily a couple hundred dollars. Fang seemed more upset by the spillage than by the looming threat of evil.