Koontz, Dean R. - Hideaway

by Hideaway(Lit)

  just knock it off lets have some laughs and be happy with that.

  Okay?

  But he did not say anything of the sort because, of course, good players

  in lite never admitted that they knew it was all just a game.

  If you let the other players see you didn't care about the rules and

  regulations, they wouldn't let you play. Go to Jail. Go directly to

  Jail. Don't pass Go. Don't have any fun.

  By seven o'clock that evening, after they had eaten enough junk food to

  produce radically interesting vomit if they really did decide to puke on

  anyone, Jeremy was so tired of the rocket jockey crap and so irritated

  by Tod's friendship rap, that he couldn't wait for ten o'clock to roll

  around and Mrs. Ledderbeck to pull up to the gate in her station wagon.

  They were on the Millipede, blasting through one of the pitch-black

  sections of the ride, when Tod made one too many references to the two

  best rocket jockeys in the universe, and Jeremy decided to kill him.

  The instant the thought flashed through his mind, he knew he had to

  murder his "best friend." It felt so right. If life was a game with a

  zillion-page book of rules, it wasn't going to be a whole hell of a lot

  of fun-unless you found ways to break the rules and still be allowed to

  play. Any game was a bore if you played by the rules-Monopoly, 500

  rummy, baseball. But if you stole bases, filched cards without getting

  caught, or changed the numbers on the dice when the other guy was

  distracted, a dull game could be a kick.

  And in the game of life, getting away with murder was the biggest kick

  of all.

  When the Millipede shrieked to a halt at the debarkation platform,

  Jeremy said, "Let's do it again."

  "Sure," Tod said.

  They hurried along the exit corridor, in a rush to get outside and into

  line again. The park had filled up during the day, and the wait to

  board any ride was now at least twenty minutes.

  When they came out of the Millipede pavillion, the sky was black in the

  east, deep blue overhead, and orange in the west. Twilight came sooner

  and lasted longer at Fantasy World than in the western part of the

  county, because between the park and the distant sea rose ranks of high,

  sun-swallowing hills. Those ridges were now black silhouettes against

  the orange heavens, like Halloween decorations out of season.

  Fantasy World had taken on a new, manic quality with the approach of

  night. Christmas-style lights outlined the rides and buildings. White

  twinkle lights lent a festive sparkle to all the trees, while a pair of

  unsynchronized spotlights swooped back and forth across the snow-covered

  peak of the manmade Big Foot Mountain. On every side neon glowed in all

  the hues that neon offered, and out on Mars Island, bursts of brightly

  colored laser beams shot randomly into the darkening sky as if fending

  off a spaceship attack. Scented with popcorn and roasted peanuts, a

  warm breeze snapped garlands of pennants overhead.

  Music of every period and type leaked out of the pavilions, and

  rock-'n'-roll boomed from the open air dance floor at the south end of

  the park, and from somewhere else came the bouncy strains of Big Band

  swing. People laughed and chattered excitedly, and on the thrill rides

  they were screaming, screaming.

  "Evil this time," Jeremy said as he and Tod sprinted to the end of the

  Millipede boarding line.

  "Yeah," Tod said. The Millipede was essentially an indoor roller

  coaster, like Space Mountain at Disneyland, except instead of shooting

  up and down and around one huge room, it whipped through a long series

  of tunnels, some lit and some not. The lap bar, meant to restrain the

  rider's lap, was tight enough to be safe, but if a kid was slim and

  agile, he could contort himself in such a way as to squeeze out from

  under it, scramble over it, and stand in the leg well. Then he could

  lean against the lap bar and grip it behind his back or hook his arms

  around it-riding daredevil.

  It was a stupid and dangerous thing to do, which Jeremy and Tod knew.

  But they had done it a couple of times anyway, not only on the Millipede

  but on other rides in other parks. Kidding pumped up the excitement

  level at least a thousand percent, even in pitch tunnels where it was

  impossible to see what was coming next "Rocket jockeys!"

  Tod said when they were halfway through the line.

  He insisted on giving Jeremy a low five and then a high five, though

  they looked like a couple of asshole kids. "No rocket jockey is afraid

  of daredeviling the Millipede, right?"

  "Right," Jeremy said as they inched through the main doors and entered

  the pavilion. Shrill screams echoed to them from the riders on the cars

  that shot away into the tunnel ahead According to legend (as kids'

  legends went at every amusement park with a similar ride, a boy had been

  killed riding daredevil on the Millipede because he'd been too tall. The

  ceiling of the tunnel was high in all lighted stretches, but they said

  it dropped low at one spot in a darkened passage-maybe because

  airconditioning pipes through at that point, maybe because the epa made

  the contractor put in another support that hadn't been planned for,

  maybe because the architect was a no-brain.

  Anyway, this tall kid, sag up, smacked his head into the low part of the

  ceiling, never even saw it coming, It instantly pulverized his face,

  decapitated him. All the unsuspecting bozos riding behind him were

  splattered with blood and brains and broken teeth.

  Jeremy didn't believe it for a minute. Fantasy World hadn't been built

  by guys with horse turds for brains. They had to have figured kids

  would find a way to get out from under the lap bars, because nothing was

  entirely kid-proof, and they would have kept the ceiling high all the

  way through.

  Legend also had it that the low overhang was still somewhere in one of

  the dark sections of the tunnel, with bloodstains and flecks of dried

  brains on and expectations. Something about being securely in the

  middle of the tunnel, which was total cow flop.

  For anybody riding daredevil, standing up, the real danger was that he

  would fall out of the car when it whipped around a sharp turn or

  accelerated Unexpectedly. Jeremy figured there were six or eight

  particularly radical curves on the Millipede course where Tod Ledderbeck

  might easily topple out of the car with only minimal assistance.

  The line moved slowly forward.

  Jeremy was not impatient or afraid. As they drew closer to the boarding

  gates, he became more excited but also more confident. His hands were

  not trembling. He had no butterflies in his belly. He just wanted to

  do it.

  The boarding chamber for the ride was constructed to resemble a cavern

  with immense stalactites and stalagmites. Strange benighted creatures

  swam in the murky depths of green pools, and albino mutant crabs prowled

  the shores, reaching up with huge wicked claws toward the people on the

  boarding platform, snapping at them but not quite long-armed enough to

  snare any dinner.

 
; Each train had six cars, and each car carried two people. The cars were

  painted like segments of a Millipede; the first had a big insect head

  with moving jaws and multifaceted black eyes, not a cartoon but a really

  fierce monster face; the one at the back boasted a curved stinger that

  looked more like part of a scorpion than the ass of a Millipede. Two

  trains were boarding at any one time, the second behind the first, and

  they shot off into the tunnel with only a few seconds between them

  because the whole operation was computer-controled, eliminating any

  danger that one train would crash into the back of another.

  Jeremy and Tod were among the twelve customers that the attendant sent

  to the first train.

  Tod wanted the front car, but they didn't get it. That was the best

  position from which to ride daredevil because everything would happen to

  them first: every Plunge into darkness, every squirt of cold steam from

  the wall vents, every explosion through swinging doors into whirling

  lights.

  Besides, part of the fun of riding daredevil was showing off, and the

  front car provided a perfect platform for exhibitionism, with the

  occupants of the last five cars as a captive audience in the lighted

  stretches.

  With the first car claimed, they raced for the sixth. Being the last to

  experience every plunge and twist of the track was next-best to being

  first, because the squeals of the riders ahead of you raised your

  adrenaline level train just didn't go with daredevil riding.

  The lap bars descended automatically when all twelve people were aboard

  An attendant came along the platform, visually inspecting to be sure all

  of the restraints had locked into place.

  Jeremy was relieved they had not gotten the front car, where they would

  have had ten witnesses behind them. In the tomb-dark confines of the

  unlit sections of tunnel, he wouldn't be able to see his own hand an

  inch in front of his face, so it wasn't likely that anyone would be able

  to see him push Tod out of the car. But this was a big-time violation

  of the rules, and he didn't want to take any chances. Now, potential

  witnesses were all safely in front of them, staring straight ahead; in

  fact they could not easily glance back, since every seat had a high back

  to prevent whiplash.

  When the attendant finished checking the lap bars, he and signaled the

  operator, who was seated at an instrument panel on a rock formation to

  the right of the tunnel entrance.

  "Here we go," Tod said.

  "Here we go," Jeremy agreed.

  "Rocket jockeys!" Tod shouted.

  Jeremy gritted his teeth.

  "Rocket jockeys!" Tod repeated.

  What the hell. One more time wouldn't hurt. Jeremy yelled: "Rocket

  jockeys!"

  The train did not pull away from the boarding station with the jerky

  uncertainty of most roller coasters. A tremendous blast of compressed

  air shot it forward at high speed, like a bullet out of a barrel, with a

  whoosh!

  that almost hurt the ears. They were pinned against their seats as they

  flashed past the operator and into the black mouth of the tunnel.

  Total darkness.

  He was only twelve then. He had not died. He had not been to Hell.

  He had not come back. He was as blind in darkness as anyone else, as

  Tod.

  Then they slammed through swinging doors and up a long incline of

  well-lit track, moving fast at first but gradually slowing to a crawl.

  On both sides they were menaced by pale white slugs as big as men, which

  reared up and shrieked at them through round mouths full of teeth that

  whirled like the blades in a garbage disposal. The ascent was six or

  seven stories, at a steep angle, and other mechanical monsters gibbered,

  hooted, snarled, and squealed at the train; all of them were pale and

  slimy, with either glowing eyes or blind black eyes, the kind of

  critters you might think would live miles below the surface of the

  earth-if you didn't know any science at all.

  That initial slope was where daredevils had to take their stand.

  Though a couple of other inclines marked the course of the Millipede, no

  other section of the track provided a sufficiently extended period of

  calm in which to execute a safe escape from the lap bar.

  Jeremy contorted himself, wriggling up against the back of the seat,

  inching over the lap bar, but at first Tod did not move. "Come on,

  dickhead, you've gotta be in position before we get to the top."

  Tod looked troubled. "If they catch us, they'll kick us out of the

  park-"

  "They won't catch us." at the far end of the ride, the train would coast

  along a final stretch of dark tunnel, giving riders a chance to calm

  down. In those last few seconds, before they returned to the fake

  cavern from which they had started, it was just possible for a kid to

  scramble back over the lap bar and shoehorn himself into his seat.

  Jeremy knew he could do it: he was not worried about getting caught. Tod

  didn't have to worry about getting under the lap bar again, either,

  because by then Tod would be dead; he wouldn't have to worry about

  anything ever.

  "I don't want to be kicked out for daredeviling," Tod said as the train

  approached the halfway point on the long, long initial incline. "It's

  been a neat day, and we still have a couple hours before Mom comes for

  us."

  Mutant albino rats chattered at them from the fake rock ledges on both

  sides as Jeremy said, "Okay, so be a dorkless wonder." He continued to

  extricate from the lap bar.

  "I'm no dorkless wonder," Tod said defensively.

  "Sure, sure."

  "I'm not."

  "Maybe when school starts again in September, you'll be able to get into

  the Young Homemakers Club, learn how to cook, knit nice little doilies,

  do flower arranging."

  "You're a jerkoff, you know that?" o, you've broken my heart now,"

  Jeremy said as he extracted both of his legs from the well under the lap

  bar and crouched on the seat. "You girls sure know how to hurt a guy's

  feelings."

  "Creepaaoid."

  The train strained up the slope with the hard clicking and clattering so

  sacred to roller coasters that the sound alone could make the heart pump

  faster and the stomach flutter.

  Jeremy scrambled over the lap bar and stood in the well in front of it,

  facing forward. He looked over his shoulder at Tod, who sat scowling

  behind the restraint. He didn't care that much if Tod joined him or

  not.

  He had already decided to kill the boy, and if he didn't have a chance

  to do it at Fantasy World on Tod's twelfth birthday, he would do it

  somewhere else, sooner or later. Just thinking about doing it was a lot

  of fun.

  Like that song said in the television commercial where the Heinz ketchup

  was so thick it took what seemed like hours coming out of the bottle:

  An-tic-ipaaa-aa-tion. Having to wait a few days or even weeks to get

  another good chance to kill Tod would only make the killing that much

  more fun. So he didn't rag Tod any more, just looked at him scornfully
.

  An-tic- i-paaa-aa--tion.

  "I'm not afraid," Tod insisted.

  "Yeah."

  "I just don't want to spoil the day."

  "Sure."

  "Creepazoid," Tod said again.

  Jeremy said, "Rocket jockey, my ass."

  That insult had a powerful effect. Tod was so sold on his own

  friendship con that he could actually be stung by the implication that

  he didn't know how a real friend was supposed to behave. The expression

  on his broad and open face revealed not only a world of hurt but a

  surprising desperation that startled Jeremy. Maybe Tod did understand

  what life was all about, that it was nothing but a brutal game with

  every player concentrated on the purely selfish goal of coming out a

  winner, and maybe old Tod was rattled by that, scared by it, and was

  holding on to one last hope, to the idea of friendship. If the game

  could be played with a partner or two, if it was really everyone else in

  the world against your own little team, that was tolerable, better than

  everyone in the world against just you. Tod Ledderbeck and his good

  buddy Jeremy against the rest of humanity was even sort of romantic and

  adventurous, but Tod Ledderbeck alone obviously made his bowels quiver.

  Sitting behind the lap bar, Tod first looked stricken, then resolute.

  Indecision gave way to action, and Tod moved fast, wriggling furiously

  against the restraint.