Page 62 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

62

Descent

S adie

I look at the line one more time and realize this just might work. Well, who knows if it will work? It’s the only idea either of us has.

“See that line?” I point to the thick black wire tied securely to a metal pole as big around as a dinner plate. The wire slants down the hill we’re on and terminates at the exterior wall of the hotel.

Twelve is bright. I didn’t need to explain the whole thing. He catches up with me instantly.

“First, we have to figure out if it will electrocute us,” I say, not sure how to do that. “Then we have to see if it will hold our weight. Then we’ll have to ride down it.”

“Ride?”

I have no clue until I take a minute to think. “We’re going to take off all our clothes, tie them together, toss them over the line and glide on down.”

“Good thinking,” he says as he removes his boots, ties the laces together, and lays them over the limb we’re sitting on. After taking off his pack and handing it to me, he hits the autozip on his pants and begins to strip.

Maybe the terror has warped my brain, or maybe it was already warped before my abduction. Whatever the cause, instead of worrying about the myriad details of our hasty, harebrained plan, or how we’re going to stop the T-Rexes from snatching us out of the air as we sail past them, I’m fascinated by Twelve.

What is it about him that makes him so riveting? Well, Sadie, could it be the perfect body? No, not perfect. What’s a word better than perfect? One thing’s for certain, there isn’t a man on Earth who sports that many muscles—with the added bonus of being covered by plush fur with glowing blue patches.

And his canine features, instead of being a turnoff, are so sexy. Maybe it’s that I’ve never seen anything like him.

Whatever the reasons, I can’t take my eyes off him as he bends with perfect balance to shuck his clothes.

He’s wearing a loincloth. What’s sexier than a clothed Anubis? Anubis in a freaking loincloth. My mind, normally facile and able to absorb large amounts of information at one time, is only capable of holding two words: Perfect Ass.

Look. At. That. A body like that should be illegal. If he were on Earth, there would be twenty-car pileups wherever he walked. He’d have to wear a burka to avoid being a menace to society. My mouth is dry as dust because I’m aroused just looking at him.

Did I just visualize a walking, talking Egyptian God strolling down a sidewalk on Earth causing chaos because of his perfect physique? When did he stop being an alien and start being a person to me? I give my head a mental shake.

I order my brain back online when he takes off at a run toward the end of the branch we’re on, his jeans draped over his shoulders.

Within a few leaps from branch to branch, he’s climbed higher into the canopy to be on a limb near the wire.

On his way, he snagged some large leaves that remind me of elephant ears, then clenched them in his canine jaws. Now near the wire, he holds the pole with one hand and tosses the leaves at the wire one at a time. Nothing goes poof.

It’s only now I remember the whole bird-on-a-wire phenomenon. As a kid, it fascinated me. My dad tried to explain that the birds would have to touch two wires at a time in order to be electrocuted. I shrug. I guess I still don’t understand it. What I do know is that it’s not going to fry us.

Step two was to see if the thing will hold our weight. If the hotel is any indication, this whole amusement park is antique. Who knows how strong the poles or the wires are?

Without pausing, Twelve removes the jeans from around his neck, tosses them over the line so the crotch rides the wire and the two legs hang on either side of it. He grabs each leg and glides until he’s even with me. After releasing one hand, he drops to a branch with his jeans in the other hand, slings them around his neck, and then leaps tree to tree until he’s back at my side.

Wow! I close my gaping mouth.

“I figured we’d do some discussing. You’d tell me I was crazy, and we’d come up with another idea,” I admit. “I didn’t think you’d take off like that.”

“It was a brilliant idea, Sadie. And it will work.” He puts his pack on his front, his tied boots through the straps, dips his knees, and says, “Climb on.”

What have we got to lose? If we don’t act fast, it’s going to be 7:57 and our lives are going to expire.

A moment later, I’m clinging to his back and he’s tree-hopping up the slope to the pole.

When we finally reach the branch nearest the pole, he says, “We have a small problem.” Both of the two drones that have been following us since we descended into the canyon edge closer to hear what the problem is. 1213 holds up the pants he used to glide down the wire.

There’s a black-edged hole in the crotch. A friction burn.

“They almost burned through from just my short ride. We have to travel five times farther and faster to reach the canyon floor.”

I initially thought we’d come down separately. For the first time today, he wouldn’t have to carry me. I did almost this very thing as my job when I worked for the Cirque. I could finally pull my own weight. Obviously, that’s not going to happen. We get one ride and one ride only.

“Okay,” I say as a plan comes together in my mind. “I’ll ride on your back and we’re going to use everything we’ve got to reinforce your pants.”

“Yes.”

Without even having to discuss it, we work together to make something we can glide down on. I kick off my shoes, shimmy out of my jeans and we slide them into his so the jeans are double thickness. My shirt comes off next as he pulls his out of his pack so we can stuff the shirts inside the double-thickness of jeans, threading them from one leg to the other.

Before he bends to stuff the shirts through the jeans, he stands, paralyzed, ogling me. No. Ogling is the wrong word. There’s nothing pervy about the way he’s looking at me.

He’s dumbstruck, mesmerized. Maybe it’s how people look at the Mona Lisa or Statue of David for the first time. Like it’s the most beautiful, amazing work of art they’ve ever seen.

I wasn’t much more covered than this when I worked at the Cirque. My blue lamé halter is similar to some of the costumes I wore. It’s Twelve’s obvious interest that throws me off balance.

I force my attention back to my task and with a shake of his head, so does he. The thickness of our getaway vehicle is now two jeans and two shirts, but his short ride did such damage to his jeans I don’t think this is going to work. I picture burning through the material when we’re still so high up we die in a fall, or perhaps when we’re almost all the way down so we land at the dinosaurs’ feet like a special delivery from Door-to-Door Eats.

We tear through our backpacks, looking for anything else. The remains of my blue dress, which I used for a nightgown—was it less than a day ago—is stuffed into the pants, and then not one but both of the thin silver blankets.

They may only be the thickness of a piece of paper, but they evidently work to shelter people from the elements. Hopefully, they’ll protect us as we zipline down. We thread them through our jeans, which are now stuffed so full they’d make a good scarecrow bottom on Halloween.

Twelve gestures through the foliage, but it’s so thick, I can’t see what he’s trying to show me. He tugs me so close our cheeks touch. Now I see where he’s pointing.

There aren’t any poles between this one in the trees and where the wire attaches to the hotel. The line gradually slants toward the exterior wall until the last hundred feet, then it’s a steep decline. When we reach the hotel, there’s a twenty-foot drop to the ground at the end. If we don’t jump off in time, we’ll wind up slamming into the wall and be smashed to smithereens like the roadrunner in those old cartoons. If that happens, unlike the indomitable coyote, we won’t be bouncing back to compete another day.

“We’ve got to drop off before we reach the hotel, just before the decline increases. They said there is an invisible forcefield that will stop the animals, but we don’t know where it is. Even though there are giant lizards nearby we’ll have to take our chances. It will be certain death if we slam into the wall, because we’re going to be descending too fast. When I say drop, I want you to drop, then roll to cushion your fall. It’s what you did in your job, right?”

I didn’t think he got the concept of a somersault when I was explaining it, but I guess he did.

“Stop, drop, and roll, then no matter what happens, I want you to run to the door. Understand?”

I nod.

“Tell me. Say it. Say, no matter what happens.”

“No matter what happens, I somersault and make a run for it,” I echo, although I don’t know why he’s pressing me.

I’m beginning to understand how this male thinks. He’s going to make sure I land safely. Then what? He’ll distract the dinosaurs to keep them away from me?

“Weren’t you the one who just reminded me that if one of us dies, we both die? Don’t be a hero, Twelve. You promise me,” I pause for effect, “we both hit the ground, roll, then run.”

“All right.” He nods.

We put our footwear back on.

I stuff my nearly empty backpack into his, slip it onto my back, then jump onto his back. We didn’t even consider using our packs for this. They’re made out of lightweight parachute fabric that would have disintegrated in five feet.

He snugs me close as I wrap my arms and legs around him, then I tighten my grip. His tail wraps tightly around my waist, anchoring me to him.

“Ready?” he asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply.

He tosses one pant leg over the wire, then, using his claws, gets a death grip on the bottom of both legs.

“Somersault and run,” he reminds me ferociously, then heaves us away from the pole.

I went ziplining with my folks when they took me to Costa Rica during high school. I was harnessed into rigging that had been safety-inspected, as mandated by the government. That was fun.

This is not.

Within seconds, I can smell material burning. I’m afraid to look up and see how much—or how little—of our jeans contraption still exists. I can’t continue to ignore their deterioration, however, when we hit the last barrier of our gliding apparatus, because the metal of the blankets is creating sparks against the metal wire and they’re flying behind us as we travel at a great rate of speed.

Everything is going so fast it’s a blur, but as we clear the trees and cross the open area thick with giant predators, I think I see the dinosaurs running away. The sparks must have freaked them out. I’m not imagining it. Their heavy footsteps pound as they run away.

I was so busy gaping in shock at the fleeing dinos behind us, I didn’t see Twelve release what’s left of the pants and take us in for a landing.

“Somersault,” he commands as his tail releases me. Without hesitation, I let go of him and tuck my head into a tumble position. We both hit the ground, do two rolls in perfect synch, then rise to our feet as if we’d practiced for weeks and were going for Olympic Gold.

The moment we’re standing, he shouts, “Run, Sadie!”

I don’t need to be told twice. I take off straight toward the hotel’s front door. A flock of menacing black birds is between me and my destination. I don’t miss a beat as I scream at the top of my lungs, wave my arms like a crazy person, and keep running.

They scatter, flapping their wings and screeching with ear-piercing noises.

I hurry up the steps and wonder if we made it on time. Please, dear God, don’t let us be late. The door can’t be locked. That wouldn’t be fair.

I grip the doorknob and pull. It doesn’t open.