Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

“Winston Churchhill,” he said. “Have you gone
daft?”
“What’s the capital of Burma?”
“Lord, I’ve no idea. Rangoon.”
“Good! When’s your birthday?”
“Will you quit shouting and let me bleed in peace!”
It didn’t take long to cross the short distance
between the wreck and the lighthouse. As Bronwyn
shouldered our shield and climbed onto the rocks,
Golan fired a few more shots, and their impact threw
her off balance. As we cowered behind her, she
wobbled and nearly slipped backward off the rocks,
which between her weight and the door’s would’ve
crushed us all. Emma planted her hands on the small
of Bronwyn’s back and pushed, and finally both
Bronwyn and the door tottered forward onto dry land.
We scrambled after her in a pack, shivering in the
crisp night air.
Fifty yards across at its widest, the lighthouse rocks
were technically a tiny island. At the lighthouse’s
rusted base were a dozen stone steps leading to an
open door, where Golan stood with his pistol aimed
squarely in our direction.
I risked a peek through the porthole. He held a
small cage in one hand, and inside were two flapping
birds mashed so close together I could hardly tell one
from the other.
A shot whizzed past and I ducked.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot them both!” Golan
shouted, rattling the cage.
“He’s lying,” I said. “He needs them.”
“You don’t know that,” said Emma. “He’s a
madman, after all.”
“Well we can’t just do nothing.”
“Rush him!” Bronwyn said. “He won’t know what to
do. But if it’s going to work we’ve got to go NOW!”
And before we had a chance to weigh in, Bronwyn