The Millionaires

“You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t-”

“… which brings us to DACS Central – the brain of the entire body,” a cheerful voice a

Gallo ducks his arm behind his back to hide the gun. The group presses forward, shifting their necks to get a look inside. As they pour in, a heavy woman in a pink shorts outfit and a matching pink sun-visor cuts in front of me, Gillian, and Charlie, and – without even knowing it – leads the whole crowd directly between us and Gallo.

“I’m sorry – were we interrupting?” the sandy blond asks in perfect tour-guide tone.

“Yes. You are,” Gallo rifles back. He glares at us through the still moving crowd. He’s ready to pull his gun, but he has to know what’ll happen if he does.

“Hey, now,” the guide teases as we step back. “Guests around…”

“Get the fuck outta my face,” Gallo says, pushing him aside. He tries to rush toward us, but the crowd’s too thick.

Charlie eyes the door. Any second now, DeSanctis is going to realize there’s nothing in those cases…

Go, I nod to him. Charlie takes off.

“Don’t move!” Gallo shouts, lifting his gun.

That’s all it takes.

“Gun!” a woman screams. The crowd ruptures – everyone’s shoving and shouting. The stampede’s on. We fly for the door as the entire frenzied crowd follows.

A shot explodes as we hit the threshold. The glass door shatters, scattering shards of glass across the floor. Plowing forward, Charlie zigs and fights his way through the chaos of screaming tourists. Behind me, Gillian’s tucked down and holding on to the back of my shirt. No one’s hit. The room empties into the hallway – and the yelling echoes through the concrete tu

“Keep going!” I shout, shoving Charlie in the back. We bottle-rocket out of the crowd and race up the neck of the tu

His face says it all. Lose her.

What?

Lose her! he insists.

She lets go of my shirt and starts ru

“Let’s just get out of here,” I tell him.

Charlie clamps his jaw and kicks in the speed. As we launch ourselves up the tu

“Stay… with me,” he says, cutting between Pocahontas and a Dracula from the Haunted Mansion.

“Up the stairs!” Gillian calls out as the doors whiz by on both sides of the hallway.

But Charlie just keeps ru

“Now…!” Charlie says, making a sharp right into a short corridor. At the end, he rips open the metal utility door and holds it open for us. Inside, yellow-painted stairs head straight up. I dart in first, followed by Gillian. Charlie’s in the rear. I bound up the stairs two at a time, spiraling toward the top. Gillian’s doing her best, but she’s not as fast.

“Move!” Charlie barks. Squeezing past her, he scrambles upward, putting himself between me and Gillian. He touches my shoulder and nudges me forward.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I tell him.

At the top of the landing, both of us stop at a closed metal door. Our breathing’s heavy. Charlie’s is heavier than mine. It’s been almost three days since he’s had his medication.

“Are you sure you’re-”

“I’m fine,” he insists. But as I put a hand on the metal bar that’ll open the stairwell door, he says two words that, as long as I’ve known him, have never left his lips.

“Be careful.”

I nod – and with a soft push – inch the door open. Thanks to all the twists and turns of the tu

Frankenstein-walking with my arms straight out, I reach the wood paneling and feel my way down to the doorknob. A twist leads us to the next room, which is just as dark. This time, though, there’s someone in the-

BAM!

A gunshot roars and I duck down as fast as I can. Behind me, there’s a thud against the floor. I spin around and reach out – but I can’t find Charlie.

74

“C’mon – let’s go!” Joey shouted as she punched her horn, honking wildly at the blue Lincoln Town Car with the “GRNDPA7” personalized license plate. Trapped in the enormous line of rental cars and overstocked minivans that were slowly filing into the Walt Disney World parking lot, Joey was ready to rip the steering wheel from the dashboard. “Yes – you! Pump the gas and pull your rolling boat into Dopey 110! Just follow the other cars! Dopey 110!”

“Are you not enjoying your Disney experience?” Noreen asked in her ear.

“Finally!” Joey a

“All vehicles to the left, ma’am,” he called out as nice as possible.

Joey stopped short, refusing to turn. “I need to get to the front gate!” she called out.

“All vehicles to the left,” he repeated.

Joey still didn’t move. “Didn’t you hear what I-?”

Within seconds, two other employees approached her window. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

“I need to get to the front gate. Now!”

“Y’know our trams run every few minutes…” the shorter employee pointed out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the other employee added. “But unless you have a handicapped sticker, you’ll have to park right here like everyone el-”

Joey pulled her dad’s badge and rammed it in his face. “You know what this means, Walt? It means I’m not parking in Dopey 110!”

Silently, the two employees backed away from the car and motioned for the man in the yellow vest to step aside. Without a word, Joey slammed the gas and sped for the front gates of the Magic Kingdom.