The sound of knees dropping to soft soil rings in Jack’s ears suddenly, and he turns around to watch a cascade of gold heads dropping to the ground and knocking against the sand. Bits of golden shell fly out from the broken balls, and a flood of golden gleam spills out, clinking, a tiny sea of thick metal disks.
“What the hell is that? Did they just die? Their heads just fractured on the sand and spilled out coins like those little candy eggs!” Grey whimpers, scrubbing his hair and dropping to his knees as well, his fingers scrabbling in the coins.
“They did. I think I know that kid. Gonna try to catch him.”
Jack spins and runs backward for a moment, tripping over some coins as he skids along the sand and lands on his butt a few times, dragging himself across the hard-to sprint landscape toward the falling shadow of the boy.
The child shoots down at an angle, just before Jack reaches the main pile of coins spewed by the Geldorachts’ broken heads, pitching a splash of coins out over their kneeling bodies and clocking his brains.