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.

Chapter 50

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.

Chapter 51

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?