Unlucky Charms (The Cold Cereal Saga) Read Free Page A

Scott whispered.
    “Prob’ly not.”
    “Um, sir?” A Freeman addressed the tall figure in white. “This isn’t safe here—please step away.”
    Just then the Hare Krishna’s two suitcases unzipped and released a brown-skinned boy and a pale and dainty little girl. And the tall figure threw off his robe and stick-on topknot to reveal a blockheaded monster of a former librarian. Nearby people gasped, and a family of four burst into applause.
    “It’s the bigfoot!” cried one of the Freemen, turning from Biggs to Emily. “And the girl!”
    “And the boy!” said Erno. “Who’s also super scary!” But it wasn’t clear that anyone was paying attention.
    They had every reason to fear Emily, who actually had turned a woman into a donkey a couple of months back. But she couldn’t control that sort of thing, so when Merle began wanding people to sleep and Biggs starting lifting Freemen over his head, she and Erno just joined Scott on the fringes and tried to stay out of the way. Ordinary people all around the hall screamed or called for the police. The room was clearing fast. Mick leaned over Scott’s shoulder.
    “I should get in there,” he said. “Start punchin’ kneecaps.”
    “Maybe we should stay together.”
    “When I thought about all this going down, I imagined us doing something useful,” said Erno.
    “Can you remember what it was?” asked Scott.
    Erno chewed his lip. “It was always kind of hazy.”
    More and more Freemen. The crew from the parking garage had found their way to ground level and entered baggage claim from the outside. Biggs was surrounded but still fighting. Merle was essentially hiding behind a small pile of Freemen and shaking his Slumbro beside his ear.
    “That can’t be a good sign,” Scott muttered.
    “Some of ’em have guns,” said Mick. “Why aren’t they usin’ ’em?”
    “Was that Mick talking just now?” Emily asked.
    “You could hear him? You’re getting better.”
    “Yeah, but I couldn’t understand him. It just sounded like a little mosquito.”
    “No, that’s right,” said Erno. “That’s what he sounds like.”
    “Shut it, lad.”
    “Mick was wondering why they weren’t using their guns,” said Scott.
    “They’re going to,” Emily said. “Now that all the real people are gone. Watch.”
    Baggage claim had emptied out. The luggage carousels were choking on unclaimed bags. Freemen glanced about—no witnesses now.
    “I better put a scare into them,” Emily said.
    “What, you?” said Erno. “What can you do?”
    “Please. You know I’ve been studying pop culture,” said Emily.
    “Is that what you call watching a lot of TV?”
    Erno and Emily hadn’t been allowed television or movies growing up, so lately Emily had been making up for lost time. “I’ve been catching up on all the horror movies from the last thirty years, and apparently there’s nothing scarier than a little girl acting spooky.”
    “Puppets,” suggested Scott.
    “Okay, yes. Puppets or a little girl acting spooky. Bonus if she’s wearing a pretty party dress. Which I am .”
    “I don’t understand,” said Erno.
    “ What if I talk like thiiiiis ,” she sang.
    “Geez. Yeah, do that.”
    Emily stepped forward, slowly, but jerking now and then as if she herself were a puppet guided by an unsteady hand. Freemen turned and noticed. With a blank face and dead eyes, she raised her arms and slowly sang “Pop Goes the Weasel” in a ghostly voice.
    “Oh no ,” a man whispered. Freemen started backing away.
    “Look out, something bad’s gonna happen! Like in that movie with the puppet.”
    “She turned someone into an owl !” said another.
    “That’s the wizard’s owl. It was always an owl.”
    Meanwhile, Emily exhausted “Pop Goes the Weasel” and started in on the national anthem.
    Merle made his way over to Scott.
    “Slumbro’s on the fritz. It isn’t holding a charge anymore.”
    “Does it need a new battery?”
    “Hope not. They haven’t been