but I wasnât going to find out by letting myself get dragged off to who-knows-where by a couple of Frankenstein-looking thugs. It had to be on my terms. So I took off.
Trouble was, I had no idea where I was going. The arcade was big and loud, but it wasnât very crowded. I couldnât lose myself among the people. Especially since I was wearing abright-freakinâ-red shirt that made me stand out like a tomato in a bowl of blueberries. My best shot was to get out of the arcade. At least that was my hope. I had no idea what I would find outside, either. We could have been in the middle of a desert. But I knew that if I stayed inside Iâd be caught for sure. Outside was better. Or so I hoped.
I dodged around a couple of game machines, ducked low, reversed my direction, and walked calmly the other way. I didnât want to draw attention to myself and alert the goons who were chasing me. It didnât work. It was the red shirt. Many of the people in the arcade ran up to me, and with the same look of desperation that the bald guy had, they pawed at me while asking, âWhen do you compete? How good are you? What is your event? Please, tell me!â
I gave up trying to be inconspicuous and took off running. I glanced back to see if the dado dudes were following. They were. Their dead doll eyes were locked on me as they stormed their way through the arcade. People had to get out of their way or risk getting run down. Who were these guys? At least my misdirection bought me a little space. I had a few seconds to find the exit before theyâd catch up. But the main floor of the arcade was huge and I had no idea which way was out. All I could do was run, and hope. I blasted through the rows of machines like a running back dodging tacklers. The strange electronic music offered an odd accompaniment to the chase. As I ran along, people would see me and start applauding, as if I were running a race. I wanted to shout out âShhhh!â but figured that would have been a waste of breath. It was clear that I wasnât going to make a quiet exit; all I could hope to do was make a fast one. But after running for about a minute, snaking through the arcade to ditch the dados, I still hadnât found the exit.
The thought hit me that there might not be any exits, andthat Quillan was all one giant arcade. Iâm not sure if that would be a dream come true . . . or a nightmare. Right then it felt more like a nightmare. I was getting a stitch in my side and had to stop to catch my breath. I ducked behind a tall game and gulped air. Thatâs when I saw it. It was nothing more than a thin shaft of white light on the floor, but it stood out amid the brightly colored flashing strobes. Daylight. I knew I had to be near a door. Or a window. It didnât matter, whatever it was, I was going through it. I ran for the light, and after ducking past two more rows of games, I saw it: double glass doors leading to the outside and safety.
I was only a few yards from . . . what? I wasnât sure. But I had to get there. As I ran for freedom, I saw something else that I knew would help my escape. Next to the door was a long row of hooks with jackets hanging on them. My first thought was that these people were pretty trusting to leave their jackets where anybody could steal them. My second thought was that I had to steal one. Iâm not a thief, but this was an emergency. If I was going to blend into this territory, I couldnât go around wearing a uniform that made me stick out like some kind of rock star. So I swiped one of the hanging jackets that looked to be my size, though the fit really didnât matter. All it had to do was cover up the red shirt. Note to self: Return the jacket if you get the chance. Like I said, Iâm not a thief. But this was an emergency.
As I put the jacket on, still headed for the door, I glanced back into the arcade. The police thugs were gaining fast. I had
Trouble was, I had no idea where I was going. The arcade was big and loud, but it wasnât very crowded. I couldnât lose myself among the people. Especially since I was wearing abright-freakinâ-red shirt that made me stand out like a tomato in a bowl of blueberries. My best shot was to get out of the arcade. At least that was my hope. I had no idea what I would find outside, either. We could have been in the middle of a desert. But I knew that if I stayed inside Iâd be caught for sure. Outside was better. Or so I hoped.
I dodged around a couple of game machines, ducked low, reversed my direction, and walked calmly the other way. I didnât want to draw attention to myself and alert the goons who were chasing me. It didnât work. It was the red shirt. Many of the people in the arcade ran up to me, and with the same look of desperation that the bald guy had, they pawed at me while asking, âWhen do you compete? How good are you? What is your event? Please, tell me!â
I gave up trying to be inconspicuous and took off running. I glanced back to see if the dado dudes were following. They were. Their dead doll eyes were locked on me as they stormed their way through the arcade. People had to get out of their way or risk getting run down. Who were these guys? At least my misdirection bought me a little space. I had a few seconds to find the exit before theyâd catch up. But the main floor of the arcade was huge and I had no idea which way was out. All I could do was run, and hope. I blasted through the rows of machines like a running back dodging tacklers. The strange electronic music offered an odd accompaniment to the chase. As I ran along, people would see me and start applauding, as if I were running a race. I wanted to shout out âShhhh!â but figured that would have been a waste of breath. It was clear that I wasnât going to make a quiet exit; all I could hope to do was make a fast one. But after running for about a minute, snaking through the arcade to ditch the dados, I still hadnât found the exit.
The thought hit me that there might not be any exits, andthat Quillan was all one giant arcade. Iâm not sure if that would be a dream come true . . . or a nightmare. Right then it felt more like a nightmare. I was getting a stitch in my side and had to stop to catch my breath. I ducked behind a tall game and gulped air. Thatâs when I saw it. It was nothing more than a thin shaft of white light on the floor, but it stood out amid the brightly colored flashing strobes. Daylight. I knew I had to be near a door. Or a window. It didnât matter, whatever it was, I was going through it. I ran for the light, and after ducking past two more rows of games, I saw it: double glass doors leading to the outside and safety.
I was only a few yards from . . . what? I wasnât sure. But I had to get there. As I ran for freedom, I saw something else that I knew would help my escape. Next to the door was a long row of hooks with jackets hanging on them. My first thought was that these people were pretty trusting to leave their jackets where anybody could steal them. My second thought was that I had to steal one. Iâm not a thief, but this was an emergency. If I was going to blend into this territory, I couldnât go around wearing a uniform that made me stick out like some kind of rock star. So I swiped one of the hanging jackets that looked to be my size, though the fit really didnât matter. All it had to do was cover up the red shirt. Note to self: Return the jacket if you get the chance. Like I said, Iâm not a thief. But this was an emergency.
As I put the jacket on, still headed for the door, I glanced back into the arcade. The police thugs were gaining fast. I had
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