“Hold on!” he yelled. “I’m coming?—”
The rocket blasted off again.
What the heck was that thing? It was red, had an open-cockpit type of seating area like one would find on a small, single-person plane. It had wheels and some sort of motor, because it was loud, but Briggs couldn’t see if it was concealed in the front or the back.
It had a lot of power too! Someone had souped that thing up.
Briggs figured he knew who, but that wasn’t important right now. He just needed to catch up and help the Little before someone was seriously hurt!
“Oh shit!” the Little screamed.
The rocket had cut across the street, bounded the right curb, and was now tearing through a yard.
Andtearingwas the right word. Upon reaching it, Briggs could see deep ruts torn into the otherwise pristine lot. Dirt and bits of grass trailed the rocket like falling confetti.
A man had come out the front door of the mansion the yard belonged to, shaking his fist angrily and yelling words one probably shouldn’t yell. Though Briggs figured he’d be irritated too, if it was his yard being torn to smithereens by some weird runaway rocket.
Of course, Briggs’s yard wasn’t in front of a giant mansion like this. His place was a bit more… humble.
No massive house. No expensive car parked out front. And no Olympic-size pool in the backyard.
That’s it! A pool! These houses always have pools!
It was Hollywood, after all.
A quick glance told him there was no fence.Perfect!
“Go toward the backyard!” he yelled.
Looking over her shoulder, the cute but terrified Little said, “Huh?”
Briggs pointed toward the side of the house. “Go to the back! If there’s a pool, aim for it!”
A look of understanding appeared in the woman’s eyes before she returned her gaze ahead of her. It was a good thing she did too, because she almost put the nose of the rocket in the tall row of hedges that separated this property from the next.
Two ruts continued to appear behind the rocket as it zipped the wide alley formed by those giant hedges and the mansion. Oh man, Briggs thought as he ran behind it, there was going to be a lot of cleanup after this was all over.
The rocket disappeared around the house to the right. A moment later, Briggs went the same way and was relieved to see that indeed there was a pool.
Water splashed a few feet into the air before falling back down, some of it splatting loudly on the concrete as the rocket hit the clear blue surface.
It instantly began to sink.
“Crap!” Briggs yelled again.
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside even as he was already diving in.
Suddenly, the world was wavy and washed in blue as he descended to the deepest part of the massive pool. Chlorine stung his eyes. The rocket—softened by the watery haze—was a muted version of itself, its red not quite as blaring as it finished sinking and bounced on the pool floor.
The woman was moving her arms frantically, but she stopped when she realized Briggs was there.
He unfastened the seatbelt, took hold of her, and felt like Aquaman as he swam up, holding her arm and guiding her toward the fresh air. They broke the surface a second later and gasped for precious oxygen.
“Are you okay?” he asked, once they’d both recovered.
“Yeah. Thanks to you!” she cried.
He got out first and then helped her, water falling off their clothes, sounding like rain hitting the concrete for a moment.