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I had to.

What if I stopped the conveyor?

Unbaked pies trundled by me in an orderly line. Multiple wheels pushed along the rubber belt. If I interrupted the belt here, would the whole thing shut down?

There wasn’t time to get it wrong.

I climbed over the barrier, stumbled against the conveyor, knocking several pies to the floor, and grabbed the rubber belt, digging my nails in to anchor up. I planted my feet, and heaved against the machines. Gears ground. Metal screeched. No human could do this. They’d get chewed up. But Zee was busy with the general and Reynard was out cold. Nobody would know . . .

Motors chugged—clanging, juddering. Smoke rose from the wheels. The smell of hot rubber filled the air. I couldn’t let go, couldn’t look. Had to stop the belt. It whined, and the rubber smoked, getting hotter.

The belt snapped.

I flew backward, accompanied by several pies, and sprawled on the floor. Pies splatted around me.

“My pies!” the general wailed.

The masher still pounded.

I’d only stopped one side of the belt. On the other side, it still fed Victor toward his death.

I’d failed.

“Zee! Help Victor!”

Zee saw me, then swung his gaze down the line, and spotted Reynard. His wings flung out, he sprang into the air, then shot like an arrow toward Reynard—inches from the hammering metal plate.

Now—It had to be now!

He dove.

Hands grabbed my face from behind, yanking me backwards into broad, meaty arms. The general smelled like hot pies, and crushed me in his arms. “Hm, you squish good, human.”

His fingers groped over my mask. Then one big fat finger slid over the mask’s mouth hole. I bit down, hard. The general bellowed, and shoved me away, through the rail, snapping it. But it did break some of my fall.

I spun, panting.

He clutched his hand. Blood dribbled from his finger, raining red blotches onto the dusty floor.

“You’re pie meat, human!” He stomped forward, stumpy wings spread as far as they’d go. That wasn’t a look of friendly discussion. He meant to kill me.

I raised my hands and backed away. “Maybe we can talk about this?”

“You bit my finger.”

“Well, you had hold of my face, so . . .”

“Adam, run!” Zee yelled.

The general came closer. I couldn’t take my eyes off him to see if Zee had Reynard, but he had to, didn’t he? I backed up some more, inching closer to the loud slamming sounds of the masher. Its noise thumped so loudly that my ribs jumped.

“Humans in pies.” The general leered. “My next business venture.”

“I don’t think it will catch on.”

“What?!” he grunted, struggling to hear over the masher’s slamming.

“Bad idea!” I yelled.