“Captain,” Pockets hissed, pointing at the Great Smoky Mountain Wheel. A cabin near the top had stopped. Inside, a little boy with a blue mohawk was pointing directly at them. His mother was on her phone.
Inside the cargo hold, the boy—whose name was Theo—sat cross-legged on a pile of rope, eating a bag of stolen fudge. sky pirates pigeon forge
That’s when the first alarm blared.
From the helm, a lanky man named Pockets squinted through a brass spyglass covered in duct tape. “Captain, we got a Dollywood tram full of tourists at ten o’clock. A Baptist convention at the LeConte Center at two. And dead ahead… the Island.” “Captain,” Pockets hissed, pointing at the Great Smoky