Clash of the Worlds. Ned Vizzini

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      Officer Boyce grabbed his radio.

      “Dispatch!” he screamed. “Where is my backup? The giant, he … he just … oh my God, it was horrible! He just ate two small kids! In one bite! Like popcorn! Please get me backup!”

      On cue, several patrol cars pulled up alongside him. Four officers jumped out and gaped at the massive giant standing in the San Francisco Bay. The sound of an approaching helicopter whirred in the distance.

      “At first we thought this was a joke, Boyce,” his sergeant said. “But strange things have been happening everywhere! First, there were reports of a real yeti getting killed in Santa Rosa. And now this …”

      “He just ate two kids,” Officer Boyce mumbled, still in shock.

      “What are we waiting for then?” the sergeant growled. “Let’s take him down!”

      All five of the SFPD officers drew their weapons and began shooting at a confused and panicked Fat Jagger. The bullets tore into his skin, not causing any real damage but still causing him to wince in pain.

      Fat Jagger swatted his huge hands around his head like he was shooing away a swarm of gnats as more cops and a SWAT van pulled up to the wharf. They were armed with even heavier artillery. The sound of the police chopper drew closer.

      Cordelia and Eleanor sloshed around inside Fat Jagger’s mouth, his thick saliva was warm and gooey, but actually provided pretty decent cushioning to the constant movement of his head as the bullets pelted him on the outside. It felt like a bulletproof hot tub in desperate need of a whole dump truck of Listerine mouthwash.

      They realised rather quickly that Fat Jagger had put them in his mouth to protect them.

      “They’re killing him!” Eleanor shouted.

      “Not yet,” Cordelia said. “But eventually they’ll bring more weapons … bigger weapons … and he may not be able to survive that.”

      “We can’t let that happen!” Eleanor said as the sound of a police helicopter whirled around Fat Jagger’s head.

      “This is the San Francisco Police Department,” a voice echoed through a megaphone. “Surrender yourself immediately, or we will begin using heavier force. We will not hesitate to take you down.”

      “Deal, this is horrible,” Eleanor said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We have to stop this!”

      Her sister was right. Cordelia needed to do something.

      “Fat Jagger,” Cordelia shouted. “Can you hear us?”

      They were suddenly swept off their feet by sloshing saliva as Fat Jagger nodded his head up and down. They heard the sound of machine-gun fire outside and Fat Jagger winced in pain, sending them sprawling on to his slick tongue yet again.

      “We need to get to Brendan!” Cordelia shouted, hoping that her brother had actually managed to summon the Storm King. It was their only chance now. “He can help us! Understand?”

      Fat Jagger nodded again.

      “Good!” Cordelia shouted. “Now take a deep breath and dive! Dive back into the water where they can’t shoot you or find you! Swim along the huge red bridge towards the shore on the other side. Then I’ll tell you how to find Brendan!”

      Fat Jagger nodded one last time and then suddenly Cordelia and Eleanor felt their stomachs drop as Jagger dived deep into the San Francisco Bay, essentially becoming a living submarine. The two girls hung on to Fat Jagger’s huge molars for dear life as the colossus made a break for the Golden Gate Bridge.