Pockets looked at the navigation charts. “Captain, we have a problem. The boy’s mother left an AirTag in his shoe. There are three Dollywood security helicopters on our tail, and one of them has a magnet the size of a Hot Rod coaster car.”
“Right, then,” she said, raising a voice like gravel and honey. “All hands, battle stations. Mimsy, you got the drop zone?” sky pirates pigeon forge
Croaker, above, fired the net-launcher. A massive cargo net tangled the first wave of bumper cars, sending them spinning into a kettle corn stand. Pockets looked at the navigation charts
“He’s just a kid,” Elara said. “He’ll think it’s a show.” There are three Dollywood security helicopters on our
“And the Great Smoky Mountain Wheel itself?” asked a grizzled old gunner named Croaker, patting a net-launcher modified with a leaf-blower motor.
“Captain,” Pockets hissed, pointing at the Great Smoky Mountain Wheel. A cabin near the top had stopped. Inside, a little boy with a blue mohawk was pointing directly at them. His mother was on her phone.
A teenage girl with goggles strapped over a face full of freckles popped up from behind a crate of rope. “The Paula Deen’s Lumberjack Feud show, Captain. Just like you said. They’re mid-show—loud sawdust explosions, crowds distracted. We swoop in, grapple the Wheel, grab the payroll delivery from the Alcatraz East ticket office, and ghost.”