WE START ELBOWING our way through the crowd, but we can’t move fast enough. We’re dodging and weaving, going two steps sideways for every one step forward. People are crammed tight all around us, excited and happy. They have no idea.
“Go back!” Lamont is yelling. “Stay away from the tents! It’s a trap!”
Nobody believes him. They think he’s just another anti-government crackpot. They all keep moving forward, like robots.
“Have a Most Beautiful Day!” somebody shouts back, and a bunch of other people pick it up like a chant.
“Most Beautiful Day! Most Beautiful Day! Most Beautiful Day!”
I feel like screaming back at them, but I know it won’t do any good.
“We have to get to the mansion!” Lamont shouts back over his shoulder to me and Margo. “We have to move faster!”
“Look!” yells Margo. “Over there!”
Across the street, a big black cargo truck is sitting with its engine running.
I’ve never driven a truck before, but so what? This week has been filled with firsts. I squeeze through the crowd and hop onto the running board. The driver is leaning back in his seat, half asleep. I pull open the door. The driver looks up and starts to shoo me away.
“Scram!” he says.
“Get out,” I say.
He slides out of his seat with a big fat grunt. As soon as his feet hit the sidewalk, I jump up into the cab.
“Stand there and stay quiet,” I tell him.
Lamont and Margo slide in on the passenger’s side. I hit the horn and press the gas pedal. The crowd clears a path ahead of me—but not fast enough. We were better off walking.
“Too crowded!” says Margo. “Take Park!”
I hook a hard right and feel a rear tire bounce over the curb. The whole truck rattles and creaks. On Park Avenue, there’s a wide center meridian for people to walk on, so the street is mostly clear. I hit the gas.
“Goddamn him!” Lamont is muttering to himself. “We have to stop him!” I’ve never heard Lamont like this. Even in bad situations, he mostly keeps his thoughts inside. But now he’s mad, pumping himself up for a fight—the biggest fight of his life. I can feel it.
By Fifty-Second Street, the speedometer is touching fifty. Buildings and people are flying by. I’m dodging other vehicles left and right. Just as I start to make the turn onto Fifty-Seventh, a TinGrin steps out into the middle of the crosswalk ahead of me, waving his hands over his head. Could be a security stop, or maybe he just wants me to quit driving like a maniac. I know I could talk my way out of an ID check, but the hell with it. No time. I don’t slow down. I speed up.
“Hold on!” I shout.
Margo and Lamont brace themselves against the dashboard. I swerve around the TinGrin at the last second. Miss him by an inch. Lucky him. Lamont’s shoulder rocks against me as I crank the wheel, but his eyes stare straight ahead. He’s still muttering.
“Ten thousand years,” he’s saying. “That’s how long he’s been planning this. A hundred goddamned centuries!”
Lamont sounds possessed, and I don’t blame him. But if he’s scared, he’s not showing it. That’s okay. I’m scared enough for both of us. All three of us.
I pull over about a block from the mansion. As soon as I kill the engine, Lamont stops muttering and takes charge. He looks me in the eye.
“Stay focused. Stay calm. Don’t stretch it,” he says.
I feel the vibration that tells me he’s turning invisible—to everybody but me. I close my eyes and focus. I feel the warm wave wash through me. A second later, I’m invisible too.
We all step out of the truck and look up the street at the mansion. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m invisible, I can feel stuff I don’t usually feel. Energy. Vibrations. Sixth sense. I don’t know what to call it, but I feel it now from the mansion, even from a block away. Something dark. Something twisted. Then, out of nowhere, a voice comes into my head. It’s the voice from the radio show. It always sounded kind of silly to me before.
“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?”
It doesn’t feel so silly right now.