The Bridge to Never Land by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson Page A

His face was expressionless; his eyes were vacant, dominated by huge black pupils.
    “What are you doing?” said Sarah. Aidan moved next to her.
    The doorman said nothing.
    The door closed behind them.
    “This is our room,” said Sarah. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
    The doorman took a step toward them.
    Aidan gripped the butter knife. Sarah took a step back and opened the door. “Please leave right now,” she said, gesturing toward the hallway.
    Another step. The doorman was a yard away from them, next to the desk lamp. Aidan looked down and gasped.
    “Sarah,” he hissed. “He doesn’t have a shadow.”
    Sarah would have screamed, but she never had a chance. The doorman, moving with impossible quickness, leaped forward and shoved her out into the hall. He then seized Aidan before he had time to react and shoved him out after her.
    Aidan stabbed the butter knife into the closing crack
and blocked the door from shutting completely. He leaned against the door, trying to force it open, but the doorman had his full weight against it.
    “Help me!” Aidan shouted.
    “We need to get somebody up here fast,” said Sarah. She looked around frantically, then spotted a fire alarm a few yards away. She ran to it, opened the cover plate, and yanked the lever down. Instantly, a blinding white light flashed overhead and a very loud, very annoying alarm began sounding.

    Downstairs, Tom was just raising his steaming coffee cup to his lips, anticipating the first sip, when he heard the alarm. All around the dining room, guests looked up from their breakfasts. A hotel employee trotted past the entrance, then another. A voice coming from the direction of the reception desk called out, “Fifth floor.”
    Tom and Natalie exchanged looks.
    Oh, no…

    “S…a…r…a…h!” Aidan shouted.
    She ran for the door, leaped in the air, and kicked it hard with her karate-trained right foot. The doorman was thrown back onto the floor, banging his head hard on the corner of the desk as he went down. He lay on the floor, apparently stunned, moaning.
    Aidan ran past him to the bed. “Grab it!” he shouted to Sarah, at the same time yanking the bedspread off the bed and onto the fallen doorman. The doorman, recovering, kicked at it to get it off, but was tangled just long enough for Sarah to reach for the box behind the television and make for the door, Aidan a step behind her. Sarah shoved the box into her backpack.
    A few yards down the hallway they nearly ran into two men in gray suits, one with a walkie-talkie—hotel security.
    “Excuse me!” Aidan said. “One of your doormen pulled the fire alarm and then barged into our room!”
    At that moment, the doorman appeared at the doorway. His dead, coal-black eyes met Sarah’s for a moment, then aimed at her backpack.
    “There he is!” Sarah shouted, pointing. The doorman turned away and began walking quickly toward the stairs at the far end of the corridor.
    “Hey, you! Stop!” shouted the man with the walkietalkie.
    The doorman, not looking back, started running. The two security men started after him, but the doorman had a big lead and his pursuers were slowed by hotel guests responding to the alarm, pouring from their rooms into the corridor.
    “They’re not gonna catch him,” said Aidan.
    “Come on,” said Sarah. “We’ll take the elevator.”
    They reached the elevators and joined a crowd of people pushing their way on. Although hotel guests were not supposed to use the elevators in case of a fire, no one was obeying the rule.
    “What are we doing?” whispered Aidan.
    “Following him,” she whispered.
    “Why?”
    “To see where he goes. I want to know who’s after us.”
    “I’m not sure I do,” said Aidan. The doors opened in the lobby; Sarah pushed her way out, with Aidan behind.
    “There!” she said.
    The doorman, in a crowd, was walking briskly, purposefully, not looking back. Most of the hotel guests were outside now in a milling throng of