A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World by Rachel Cantor Page B

It’s Mom! MOM! he shouted in a voice so loud it set bells and sirens off in Leonard’s head, and made the room tremble—then Felix was off, running from the room, Leonard after him, Sally grabbing her clutchbag.
    Code yellow! she shouted to Peter as they made for the stairs.
Don’t you hate that?
    When they got outside they saw something they couldn’t possibly have imagined: everything—every person, every breeze, every insect, even the flame in the tree—had come to a stop, everything but the three of them, and what looked like Carol’s red afro escaping around a corner. A policeman’s justice stick was frozen in the air, his face a grimace, a Whig’s fist wasimmobilized two centimeters from a neo-Maoist kidney, and so on. Leonard stopped short, and then Sally, but Felix kept running toward the spot where he’d seen his mother. When he saw she was gone, he reluctantly returned.
    What did you do? Sally asked him.
    She’s alright, Leonard said, taking Felix’s hand. Your mom always is.
    I want to go home, the boy whispered.
    What did you do? Sally said.
    It’s hard to explain, Felix said. Can we go now, Leonard?
    You’ve done that before? Leonard asked.
    Only once. When the kids were about to throw me onto the municipal compost heap—
    Don’t you hate that? Sally said.
    You too? Leonard asked.
    It happens to all people of substance and quality, she explained, also taking Felix’s hand. But you can’t go home now, I’m sorry.
    No, really, Leonard said, I think we should.
    Did the policeman ID spray your mom?
    Yes, Felix said.
    Then he’ll know who she is, right? She won’t be able to go home; maybe they’ll want you guys as witnesses. You don’t want to have to admit that you saw her here, right? How long will this last?
    Not sure, Felix said. Ten minutes? My health meter has to calm down first.
    Let’s do what we can while we’re waiting, Sally said. Leonard, you grab the justice sticks, Felix, you bring that hose to that flaming tree, and I’ll move people out of the way of somefists. When I blow my whistle, we meet back at the shining sun, alright?
    She blew her whistle once for good measure and they were off.
A Baconian safehouse
    When they reassembled, Sally explained that they would have to go to a Baconian safehouse for a while, till things calmed down. She ran upstairs to leave a message for Peter, who she correctly guessed was also frozen. Which meant uncle and nephew got to watch as the rioters came back to life, slowly, as if drugged. Some swung softly at the air, falling off balance to the ground; policemen looked vaguely for their justice sticks; musicians made halfhearted tweets on their instruments; food chain representatives began groggily to stumble toward the periphery of the Walking Grounds.
    It’s funny, Felix said. Like a cartoon.
    Except it’s not, Leonard said. Look: some people aren’t getting up. They could be seriously hurt.
    Felix hung his head.
    Not to worry, little chappie, Leonard said, mussing Felix’s afro. I don’t know how you did it, but you saved your mom, and lots of other people besides. You’re a hero!
    I am, aren’t I! Felix said, and Sally was back with her black leather clutchbag.
    Come on, she said. The library’s about to go into lockdown. I got out just in time.
    And Peter?
    He’s barricaded himself with the Voynich. He’ll guard it with his life.
    Sally flagged a wagonette and gave the driver complicated directions for a part of town Leonard didn’t know. The driver offered to read their palms or call up spirits of the dead, but they were tired, and low on lucre.
    Another time, perhaps, Sally said politely, and took the driver’s card. All wagonette drivers were mediums, she explained. Leonard and Felix hadn’t known that: they’d never ridden in a wagonette. Dime a dozen, she whispered, but helpful in an