Thrill Ride

by Franklin W. Dixon

“You were not,” Frank argued. “You wanted to go on the covered water slides.”

  The tall girl—Renee—raised her eyebrows. “Those things are terrifying. You couldn’t pay me to go on one of those. Let’s go to the river, Lisa.”

  They walked off toward the Roundabout River, and I glared at Frank.

  “What?” he said.

  See? He’s completely clueless.

  “Nothing. Let’s go to the covered slides,” I grumbled. If we couldn’t hang out with the cute girls, we might as well have fun.

  The line for the Wormhole was kind of long, but I figured it was worth the wait to go on the biggest, twistiest covered slide in the park. The Wormhole was a supersteep one-person water slide with a black metal roof covering the whole thing. I couldn’t even see where the slide ended, but I figured it shot you out over a deep pool somewhere else in the park. Most covered slides spit you out about ten feet above the water. So after a terrifying ride down a pitch-black slide, you get to have a little free fall to thrill you at the end.

  “I love water parks,” I said.

  “I know,” Frank replied. “You love them so much you don’t even care that we’ve been on line for a half hour already.”

  “We’re almost there,” I said. “We’re on the stairs now.” Everybody knows once you’re on the stairs up to the high platform of the slide, you’re in the home stretch.

  Even so, we waited for another fifteen minutes.

  “You’re gonna thank me for this,” I promised Frank. “The information map said that the Wormhole slide changes direction three times while you’re in the tube.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s amazing,” I said. “You’re completely enclosed in the metal slide, you’ve got water running down your back, you can’t see where you’re going … you’re totally at the mercy of the Wormhole.”

  “As long as it’s wet, I’ll be happy,” Frank said. “It’s way too hot out.”

  Finally we got to the top. From here I could see out over almost the whole park, with its wave pool and whitewater rafting creeks and the Roundabout River encircling all the other rides. The Wormhole was just a big black tube, a circular opening maybe three feet wide with only blackness inside.

  I watched the kids in front of me as they disappeared into the tube one by one. The park worker at the ride instructed them to grab onto the top of the tube, stick their feet into it, and let go. As soon as they did, the force of the water rushing down the tube pulled them inside. They vanished into the blackness almost immediately.

  The park worker waited for a minute or so and then let the next person on. I knew you couldn’t have two people in the tube at once, so the whole ride probably only lasted for a minute. But so what? It would be worth it.

  I was next in line. I was so pumped. “Can I go in headfirst?” I asked the worker.

  He just laughed. “No. Trust me, it’ll be scary enough feet first.”

  “I hope so.” I glanced at Frank. “See you on the other side!” Then I grabbed onto the top of the tube, stuck my feet into the Wormhole, and let go.

  The water was freezing! It pulled me along so fast that before I knew it, the light from the entrance was gone and I was in total darkness, whipping along superfast. I could barely even tell where the top of the tube was—I didn’t have time to think about anything.

  Suddenly my feet hit a wall and my whole body jerked to the right.

  I gasped in surprise. But before I could even catch my breath, my feet hit another wall. I jerked left.

  And kept speeding downhill. There was one more turn to go … but when would it happen?

  Just when I thought I couldn’t fall any farther, my feet hit the wall again. I slid right around the turn.

  My feet hit another wall. And stopped.

  The sudden stop brought the weight of my whole body down onto my ankles. My knees buckled, and I started to fall. But the tube was so narrow that my knees hit one wall and my back hit the other. I stayed there, crouched, for a couple of seconds, just trying to catch my breath.

  What was going on?

  Keep calm, I told myself. That was the first rule of dealing with a crisis—every member of ATAC had it drummed into their heads. Take stock of your surroundings, then figure it out from there.

  I was standing on a blockage in the tube. There were only supposed to be three turns, and I’d gone through all three. So this must be the bottom of the tube. But it was blocked.

  I pushed down with my toes, then slid my feet around, trying to figure out what was blocking the tube. It was something smooth and flat that felt a little bit like the rubber they use to make trampolines.

  Okay, that’s not helpful, I thought. I tried to figure out some other details.

  I wasn’t standing straight up, as far as I could tell in the dark. The whole tunnel seemed to be at an angle so that I leaned more to the left than the right.

  The tunnel was narrow—only one arm span across.

  It was pitch black.

  And water was pouring down on my head.

  Uh-oh, I thought. Water ran down the length of the whole tunnel. And if the bottom was blocked, that meant the water couldn’t escape. It would start to build up into a pool at the bottom.

  I lifted one foot. Sure enough, the water had formed a puddle on top of the blockage. It was up above my ankle already, and rising fast.

  I had to get rid of the blockage—fast—before the water backed up even further.

  I stomped down as hard as I could. It didn’t move. I braced my arms against the wall of the tunnel and stomped down with both feet at once. It still didn’t budge. I tried a few more times. Nothing.

  A sound came from the tunnel above me. Sort of a whooping yell.

  My blood ran cold.

  Frank!

  The worker at the top had waited for a minute, then let Frank into the tube. Any second now, he was going to land on top of me!

  It’s okay, I thought. Maybe the impact will knock this blockage loose.

  I flattened myself against the side of the tunnel and braced for the hit.

  Frank’s feet walloped me in the shoulder, and he crumpled on top of me, pushing me back down to my knees. The water sloshed up into my mouth.

  “Hey!” Frank yelled.

  I pushed at him. “Get off of me!”

  He pushed against the side of the tunnel and scooted up enough for me to stand again. “What’s going on?” he called down.

  “The bottom of the tube is blocked,” I said. “I can’t push it loose. Even the weight of two of us didn’t knock it free.”

  “That’s bad,” Frank said. “There’s water coming down.”

  “I know.”

  “The water will fill the tube and we’ll drown,” Frank said.

  “I know,” I repeated. “We have to find a way out. Fast, before someone else comes down.”

  “They put up a chain behind me so the workers could change shifts,” Frank said. “No one else will be down for at least a few minutes.”

  “Good. Then no one else is in danger,” I said. “But we’re still in deep trouble.”

  “If we can’t go down, then we have to go back up,” Frank called.

  “How can we climb all the way back up?” I asked. “This thing is really steep. And what about all those turns?”

  “I can reach the first turn from here,” Frank said. “I’m gonna pull myself up over it.”

  The darkness was so total that I couldn’t see him at all. But I felt the weight that had been pressing down on me ease as he pulled himself up.

  The water had reached my waist now. I had to start climbing. But how? Every time I tried to push off the wall, my foot slipped against the smooth metal. The water made everything slick.

  “I need a little help!” I called.

  My brother’s hand smacked me in the face.

  “Sorry!” he said. “Grab on.”

  I grabbed onto his wrist. I figured he must be lying on his stomach above the turn. He pul
led me up out of the water. I felt the tube change directions. Up here we could crawl forward, but the water rushing down made it difficult. In front of me, Frank lost his balance and was swept back down the tube.

  “Look out!” he yelled.

  I swiveled around and pushed my feet against the wall opposite me. This way I could block his path and keep him from falling back down to the bottom of the tube.

  Oof! He slammed into me.

  “I think I get to go first from now on,” I complained. “That’s twice I’ve had to break your fall.”

  “Joe, the water’s up over the turn already,” Frank said. “It’s rising fast.”

  “Let’s get going.” I led the way, crawling along the tube until I reached the next turn. “These two turns were really close together,” I called back to Frank. “Maybe we can put our feet on the first turn and then pull ourselves up on the next one.”

  “Yeah,” Frank’s voice reached me through the darkness. “But then the tube goes straight up for at least thirty feet. How are we gonna climb that?”

  I pulled myself up onto the next turn. Extending my arms over my head, I felt the final turn of the tunnel. I dragged myself up until I could look straight up the rest of the tunnel. Up above—way up above—I spotted a tiny circle of light. “I can see the top!” I yelled.

  “How can we get there?” Frank yelled back.

  I took a deep breath and tried to assess the situation calmly, the way Dad always did. We had a narrow space, and an almost vertical climb. What should we do?

  It hit me like a bolt of lightning.

  “It’s a chimney!” I called.

  “What?”

  “Like in rock climbing, when there’s a crack in the rockface big enough to climb in. We can use our hands and feet to brace ourselves against the wall and inch our way up.”

  “Got it!” Frank called. “But we have to go fast. The water is rising.”

  I pulled myself the rest of the way up into the tunnel and stuck my foot against the wall, about knee-high. I leaned across and pushed both hands against the same wall. Then I bent my knee and lifted my other foot. I pressed that foot against the wall under my butt. I was suspended in the tunnel, holding myself up between my arms and legs. Pushing hard against both walls, I straightened my back leg and lifted my body as far as I could. Now that my bottom leg was straight, I bent the other one and stuck it against the wall in front of me at knee-height. I took a split second to rest, then did the whole thing again.

  Slowly I inched up the tube. I heard Frank doing the same thing below me.

  My arms and legs were aching with the effort, and my lungs were working overtime. But I kept my eyes on the little circle of light above. I tried to ignore the water pouring down on top of me. It made the tunnel slippery, so I had to push hard against the walls to avoid sliding down.

  Finally I reached the top. The sunlight dazzled my eyes for a few seconds, so I stayed put in the tunnel to let my sight adjust.

  “Hurry up, Joe!” Frank called from below. “The water’s up to my legs.”

  With a final exertion, I pushed my back hard against the wall and moved one of my arms up to grab the top of the tunnel. I held on tight and pulled myself up and over the top. Then I collapsed on the platform and tried to catch my breath.

  “Dude!” cried the park worker standing two feet away. I heard gasps from the people at the front of the line.

  “My brother’s in there,” I said.

  The worker rushed over to the tube and pulled Frank out. He dropped down next to me on the metal platform. “My biceps are aching,” he muttered.

  “Where did you dudes come from?” the worker demanded. “You’re not supposed to climb back up the slide.”

  “The bottom is blocked,” Frank said. “Don’t let anyone else go in. We almost drowned.”

  The worker stared at us in shock for a moment, then looked back into the tunnel. When he saw the water almost to the top, he yanked the walkie-talkie from his belt and got help.

  The people standing in line were evacuated from the platform and the stairway, and someone at the bottom of the slide removed the blockage. By that time Frank and I had recovered enough to talk to the Splash World security guard who’d come to take our statement.

  “What was over the bottom of the slide?” I asked.

  The guard was a middle-aged woman with a long blond braid down her back. She looked embarrassed. “Someone put the cover on,” she admitted. “When the ride is closed, we put rubber covers on the top and bottom of the tunnel. To keep the raccoons out and make sure the slide doesn’t get all mucked up with falling leaves and stuff.”

  “You mean somebody purposely closed off the end of the slide while people were going down it?” Frank asked. “We could’ve been killed. You’re just lucky it was us and not some ten-year-old kids.”

  “I know.” The guard frowned. “The story I’m getting is that the worker at the bottom thought the Wormhole was already closed for the shift change. He didn’t think anyone else was coming down, so he put the cover on.”

  “Do they usually cover the slide during a shift change?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “But it was this guy’s first day on the job. He says he got confused. Needless to say, he’s been fired.”

  Frank and I exchanged a look. Had this worker really just made a mistake? Or was he trying to hurt us on purpose?

  “Is the worker still here?” Frank asked.

  The guard shook her head. “We had him escorted off the premises. Splash World takes safety violations very seriously—”

  “Thanks, but we’ve heard this speech today already,” I interrupted her. “Can you tell us the guy’s name?”

  “Marc Krakowski,” she said.

  Frank wrote the name in his notebook, and we made our way down the long staircase.

  “It’s too bad we can’t talk to the worker who did this,” Frank said. “I’d like to know if he’s connected to Uncle Bernie’s Fun Park in any way.”

  “We’ll have to go back to Uncle Bernie’s to find out,” I said. “But first I could use a nice, boring ride on the Roundabout River.”

  We snagged some inner tubes and plopped ourselves in the slowly moving water. “Now this is the way to relax after some chimney-climbing,” I joked. “What a workout!”

  “We’ve got a problem,” Frank said. “We have no idea who’s been sabotaging the rides at Uncle Bernie’s—and maybe here, too. There’s no way we’ll be able to solve this thing and get back home today.”

  “Let’s call Dad and tell him we’re gonna crash up here,” I suggested. “We passed at least five motels on the way to Uncle Bernie’s.”

  After we got off the ride and changed back into regular clothes, we headed back out to our bikes.

  It was quieter in the parking lot. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed home.

  Luckily, Dad answered the phone. If it had been Mom or Aunt Trudy, I would have had to lie. And I hated lying to them.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said.

  “Joe. Are you boys all right?” Dad sounded worried.

  “We’re fine.” I glanced at Frank and he shook his head. I knew what he meant: Don’t tell Dad about our near-death experience in the Wormhole. The last thing we wanted was to freak out our father. Besides, we were fine. We’d gotten out of the scrape like we always do.

  “No problems,” I said into the phone.

  “Where are you?” Dad asked.

  “Still up in Massachusetts,” I said. “We’re at an amusement park.”

  “I see.” Dad doesn’t say much, but then he doesn’t have to. I could tell by his tone of voice that he knew we weren’t here for fun. He never asks for details about our ATAC missions. But he always knows when we’re on ATAC business.

  “The thing is, we kind of lost track of time,” I said. “We won’t be able to make it all the way home tonight.”

  “Hmph,” Dad said. “You’re sure everything’s okay?”

  “Yeah,�
� I said. “We just need a little more time. We thought we’d stay in a motel up here.”

  “All right,” Dad replied. “I’ll tell your mother she can expect you home tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said.

  “Be careful, Joe,” he told me. “Call if you need anything.”

  “We will. Bye.”

  I hung up and turned to Frank. “Well?” Frank asked.

  “He’s not happy,” I sighed. “But he knows how it is on ATAC business. We’ll get some sleep tonight. And then tomorrow we’ll finish the mission and be home by dinnertime.”

  “Are you gonna eat those pancakes?” Joe asked me the next morning at breakfast.

  I was busy staring out the window of the diner, thinking about the situation at Uncle Bernie’s Fun Park. Joe reached across the table, ready to grab my last two pancakes with his fork.

  I pulled my plate away.

  “There are two suspects left who we haven’t actually met and questioned yet,” I said.

  “You’re doing work over breakfast?” Joe groaned. “Okay, so we have Big Jim, and John Richardson, and both Bernies. Who else? What about that big guy, Jonesy? He really hates Uncle Bernie.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I was talking about Uncle Bernie’s ex-wife, Karen,” I said. “Remember, Little Bernie said she’d get half the money if the park was sold.”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t think so. She wouldn’t put her own son in danger. Little Bernie almost got hit by the Doom Rider cave-in, and somebody may have tried to poison him yesterday. It’s hard to believe his mom could be involved in any of that.”

  I agreed with him. Even Little Bernie had said his mother wouldn’t do anything like sabotage the rides. “Okay, so we cross her off the suspect list for now. That leaves one person. The kid from Little Bernie’s school.”

  “The one who got rowdy at the park until Little Bernie threw him out,” Joe said. “What was his name?”

  I checked my notebook. “Chris Oberlander.”

  Joe glanced around the diner. “Pay phone,” he said, pointing. “I bet there’s a local phone book.”

  We headed over to the phone and grabbed the book from the counter underneath. Joe flipped through to the O section. “There are two Oberlanders in Holyoke,” he reported.