This is a robbery?

I’m so confused I momentarily forget to be scared.

Why would this orc decide to mug me? Do they even use dollars on the world he’s secretly from? Isn’t Chester—or whoever—paying him to kill me? Maybe the pay isn’t so good?

Or is he saying this because of Maya’s presence? Maybe he would’ve just killed me, but because of a witness, he’s trying to make my murder look like a mugging gone wrong. Perhaps whoever hired these orcs to kill me told them to make my death look like an accident—hence the whole pushing me into the harbor (though the rescue doesn’t add up), throwing a brick at my head, trying to ram a car into me…

If this theory is true, I have to make sure this mugging goes as smoothly as muggings can go and—

“I said, ‘Give me your money,’” he snarls and gestures with his cannon-like gun.

“I have to put my hand back into the bag to get my wallet,” I tell him, doing my best to not sound challenging.

His brows furrow for a moment. “Do it slowly.”

I get inside the bag and curse myself for taking out those bullets again. If the gun was loaded, I could’ve risked shooting him through the bag. As is, I grab my wallet and slowly take it out.

At one point in my life, I had fantasized about getting mugged—though not exactly like this.

Tommy Wonder, one of the greatest magicians, has a routine called the Ring, the Watch, and the Wallet. In that effect, he tells a story about how he was mugged, and as he speaks, he removes the watch from his wrist, the ring from his finger, and the money from his wallet—and puts it all into an envelope. Then he shows the envelope empty and everything returned to its original place.

I fantasized about doing something like that if I were ever mugged myself, but such an effect requires preparation. I also didn’t anticipate how scary a real mugging would be—though I guess this mugging isn’t real, because as I established earlier, it makes no sense for an orc to rob me.

“Not that slowly,” the orc says after he gets tired of the glacial movement of my wallet-clutching hand.

I rush to get the wallet out and open it.

Crap.

Why did I bring so much cash with me today?

Taking out the entire four hundred and sixty-five dollars, I hand them to the “mugger.”

He stuffs the cash into his pocket and looks at Maya, as though noticing her for the first time. His forehead furrows in the orc equivalent of a thoughtful expression. The mental gymnastics he’s doing must be strenuous because he’s almost sweating with the effort.

“You there.” He points his weapon at trembling Maya. “Give me your money too.”

“Oh, come on,” I can’t help blurting out. “Chester isn’t paying you to mess with her.”

The gun points back at my head, and the look of complete incomprehension on the orc’s face makes me wonder if Chester isn’t behind all this after all. It’s either that, or this orc is a surprisingly good actor.

“What did you just say?” He stares at me threateningly as Maya shrinks back against one of the seats.

I keep my mouth shut, and he turns to her again, prodding her shoulder with his gun.

“Your money, I said,” he snarls as she whimpers.

“Hey, leave her alone!” I can’t watch this for a second longer. “You were hired to bother me, not her.”

This time, my words seem to light up a big, green lightbulb above his head. “What?” he growls and advances toward me. “Say that again.”

Self-preservation kicks in, and I instinctively back away.

The orc leaps for me with a speed that’s shocking for his size.

In a split second, he grabs my upper arm, his huge paw nearly crushing my shoulder socket.

Damn, he’s strong. My shoulder feels like someone stuck me into a hydraulic press.

“Let her go!” Maya screams hysterically. “Here is all my money.”

I open my eyes. When did I close them?

Maya is holding out a little pink wallet and a few scrunched-up dollar bills.

The orc lets go of my arm and snatches the cash, his sausage-like fingers looking like a CGI effect next to Maya’s tiny palm.

“Close your eyes and count to a thousand out loud,” he orders, his gun pointing first at me, then at Maya, then back again.

“Please don’t kill us,” Maya whispers, her eyes closed so tightly her whole face twists with the effort.

“Shut it,” he barks.

I close my eyes, my whole body numb.

Here comes the Cognizant afterlife.

In a final spurt of defiance, I manage to say, “If you kill us, Nero will make a Shrek kebob out of you.”

Technically, Shrek is an ogre, not an orc, and I have no idea if Nero would be upset by my demise at all, but it’s a pleasant fantasy.

“Count, or I will shoot,” the orc growls.

“One,” I say, my voice shaking.