THE BEATLES WARRIORS hunched over around me, neck-deep into planning our next hit.
"...then Luke will flank it by the left, while I flank it by the right. Rupert will distract it from the front and I'll — "
Interruptions!
"Why me?" Rupert demanded. "Why do I have to be face-to-face with the monster? The leader faces the hardest task."
"I never said I was the leader." Although I was smiling inwardly that the snaggletooth acknowledged me so. "I only said, follow my lead."
"What's the difference?"
"Lots."
"Like?"
"Both of you, stop," Luke ordered. "Let's get through with the plan over again."
"Are you sure about that?" Lucy queried.
"Of course," Luke said. "Why do you ask?"
"Behind us." Lucy said.
For a massive beetle, although lumbering, it moved with the stealth of a samurai ghost ninja. Read that again.
For the second time the same day, it towered over us and snapped its mandibles. The twins and I evaded the attack. Not Super Klutzy Rupert though.
The tip of the mouthpart nipped at Rupert's leg, digging into a leg of his pants. He tried to pull away, but the grip was tight.
"I'm not losing a leg to you, Shieldhead." He cried in pain.
"Bend your back," I ordered, sprinting across the yard.
He wanted to protest but he stooped, flattening his wide back. My legs planted on a stepladder named Rupert.
"Rise," my voice commanded above him.
Rupert vibrated under me, resisting the urge to argue again. As he rose, he acted like a spring, shooting my voice straight into the air, with the rest of me, of course — except for my helmet, which fell off. (That Norse god I told you about must be annoyed that I didn't offer a sacrifice for dressing-up as Thor. Rude.)
As I reached zero gravity, I stretched my arm forward and arched my back like a diver. Then I propelled myself forward, performing an Artemis-worthy frontflip.
"Whoa! What an acrobat!" Luke and Lucy clapped in amazement, entranced by my sinuous aerial movements.
Gravity began to act in earnest after the flip. I overstayed my welcome with my sky gee, Zeus: I tried performing another flip and landed chest-first on the hard back of the beetle. The impact knocked the wind out of me. (I think I'm now officially zeusophobia.)
Lucy giggled.
For a microsecond, I didn't move. My grip on the saxophone loosened and the instrument slid down the curvy back of the beetle. It landed with a dull thunk. Then, I also began sliding down. Fast.
When I fully regained consciousness, I figured I was still sliding. Lucky for me, my hammer was clutched in my other hand. I striked the creature's chitinous Kevlar, hoping to penetrate and create myself a handhole. My hope was shattered, unlike the beetle shell which remained intact. The hammerhead bounced off, inches away from hitting my nose on the rebound. It flew over my head and fell.
"What the — !" Somebody exclaimed below me.
I didn't know who. I didn't listen to the rest. I was still falling. I hastily unhooked my wrench.
I had a few milliseconds to sneak a peek of the scene below me. My deduction after that? I calculated my fall to end somewhat fatal if not lethal — both an undesirable fate.
I hated heights. I abhor the funny falling feeling. With that, I closed my eyes and prayed in silence: If this was a nightmare, may I wake up. Now!
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