A Game Called Chaos (10 page)

“I found out why Sullivan's Point isn't on any map,” he said. “It's a ghost town. The economy of the place collapsed fifteen years ago, and everybody moved away.”

“There's at least one person still living there,” Joe said. “Two, I hope.”

“I hope so, too,” Chelsea added, chiming in over the speakerphone. “We still need that game, or Viking is sunk. But I hope Royal's okay, too.
He's not as bad as people have been painting him.”

“One more thing,” Phil said. “In the last two years, a corporation has bought up all the available land in the town. Care to guess which corporation?”

“On a wild hunch, I'd have to say Cross Enterprises,” Frank said.

“Bingo,” Phil agreed. “Guys, be careful.”

“We will be,” Frank assured him.

• • •

As they neared the outskirts of Benson, Frank and Joe stopped for gas and to confirm their directions to Sullivan's Point.

“Good thing you stopped by,” said the grizzled gas station attendant. “There's a bridge on this road that washed out last winter. You'll have to take the mountain road into town. Don't know why you'd want to go, though. Nobody there but ghosts and crazy people.”

“We're looking for someone,” said Joe. “Maybe you've seen her. Her name's Regina Cross.”

“Oh yeah,” the old man said, “I know her—athletic blond, good looking, always wears sunglasses. Didn't mean what I said about her being crazy. She's just a bit . . . eccentric. She brings her SUV into town every month or so to pick up gas and supplies. Haven't seen her for a while, though.”

The man scratched his head, “Funny thing,” he said. “You're the second people asking after Regina and Sullivan's Point in the last couple weeks.”

“Who else was asking?” Joe asked.

“Didn't catch his name,” the man said. “Drove a big blue car. He was in an awful hurry, pretty rude, too. Seemed to think he owned the world.”

Frank and Joe looked at each other. “Royal,” they said simultaneously.

The Hardys piled back into the van and followed the directions the old man had given them. A few miles out of town they passed an abandoned amusement park: “Lincoln Park—Home of the Terrifying Giganto.” The head was broken off the Giganto sign, so the Hardys couldn't tell what kind of a hairy monster Giganto had been. The skeleton of a roller coaster decorated the far skyline.

“Nice place for picking up spare parts,” Frank noted.

“You mean like the ones the police found in the wreck of Royal's car,” Joe said. “I bet if we checked, we'd find out Cross Enterprises owns what's left of that park.”

Soon after that, the land around them rose and the brothers found themselves driving through thickly wooded hills. The condition of the road
deteriorated quickly, until the “highway” was little more than a dirt road.

“Guess ghosts don't pay enough taxes to get good roadwork done,” Joe said.

In a short time they topped a hill and gazed down into Sullivan's Point. Anne Sakai's hometown was a spooky place, full of rapidly decaying century-old buildings. The sun was sinking behind the hills as the Hardys drove into town, and late-afternoon shadows crept through the town's deserted streets.

Joe turned from the abandoned church nearby to gaze at a dilapidated mansion on the far side of town. “Nice place for a horror movie,” he said.

“There's a light in that mansion,” Frank said. “Top window. Do you see it?”

Joe nodded. “There's always a light on over at the Frankenstein place. Think she knows we're coming?”

“She might,” Frank said. “We'll have to watch ourselves.”

As he said it, the sky above them suddenly grew dark. Hordes of huge black bats began streaming out of the bell tower of the old church. The creatures wheeled and gyrated in the sky, gathering like a huge swarm of hornets.

A few bats broke off from the group and hurled themselves at the Hardys' van. Frank cut the
wheel just in time to avoid having a bat splatter on the windshield.

But instead of splattering, the bat exploded in a ball of orange-yellow fire as it hit the ground.

At the sound of the explosion, the rest of the bats turned toward the Hardys' van and dove straight toward it.

“Exploding bats!” Joe cried.

“I see them, I see them,” Frank said as he twisted the steering wheel to avoid the first wave of the attacking creatures.

The bats whirled around the van, chittering and screeching. Most of them flitted away at the last moment, but a few came straight in, like kamikaze bombers.

Frank tried to avoid the squadron, but the rough condition of the road made it difficult. When he cut the wheel one way, the ruts in the road would take his tires in another direction. Several of the exploding bats hit the sides of the van, but they did no significant damage.

Frank cut the wheel and a bat caught the edge
of the windshield, skitted down the side window, and exploded. The blast cracked one of the van's rear windows.

“Yow! That was too close,” said Joe.

“How about coming up with a plan while I drive,” Frank said, tense concentration filling his voice. Joe could see beads of sweat running down his brother's forehead. Frank's face was set in a grim, determined-looking mask.

“Do we still have that fishing net?” Joe asked.

“Maybe under the backseat,” Frank said. “Be careful.”

Joe unbuckled himself and moved toward the back of the van. It was like trying to walk on a ship during a storm, and Joe had to clutch the backs of the seats to keep his balance.

Suddenly a huge explosion made the van lurch wildly.

“Hang on!” Frank shouted. “I think they got the tires!”

Joe grabbed the nearest seat belt, wrapped it around his wrist, and hung on for dear life.

Frank fought for control of the van, but something more than the tires had gone. The bats continued to scream around the van, obscuring his vision. Occasionally, one exploded in a puff of flame and black smoke.

Suddenly a huge oak tree loomed out of the cloud of bats. Frank turned left with all his might.
The van skidded, and hit the tree with its side. Every loose object in the van flew into the air at the impact. The van swerved the other way, almost tipping over. Finally it lurched into a ditch and came to a stop.

Frank shook his head to clear it. “Joe! Are you all right?”

“I've been better.” Joe's voice came from under a seat that had shaken loose in the crash.

Another explosion rocked the van.

“We're sitting ducks here,” Frank said. “Come on.”

He unbuckled himself, scrambled to the back, and helped Joe up. They tried the van's sliding door, but the impact with the oak tree had jammed it shut. As they moved back to the front of the car, an explosion shattered the rear window inward.

“You know,” Joe said, “before this, I always liked bats.”

“Looks like they don't like you,” Frank said.

The passenger door had been ruined as well, so they gathered at the driver's side exit.

“When we get out, head for the woods,” Frank said. “I'm betting that mechanical bats won't be able to deal with trees.”

“Let's hope you're right,” Joe said. He pushed open the door, and the two of them scrambled for the woods. Fortunately, their car had crashed just scant yards from good tree cover.

Dodging a few dive-bombers, they made it into the forest without further injury. An exploding bat hit a tree near them as they scrambled deeper into the brambles and trees.

“Looks like your plan worked,” Joe said as he watched the swarm of bats wheel around the van. Several other bat bombers came at them, but they exploded harmlessly after hitting the trees between the van and the Hardys.

“Out of ammo,” Joe said.

“Let's hope,” said Frank.

“Think it's safe to go back to the van?” Joe asked.

“Looks like,” Frank said. “Let's be careful, though.”

The Hardys cautiously left the edge of the woods and went back to their wrecked vehicle.

“I guess we'll be looking for another way home,” Joe said. “So much for our safe driver discount.”

“Smashed,” said Frank, who was walking around the van, making sure the damage was as bad as he thought.

“So, where do we go from here?” Joe asked.

“I'd say we don't have much choice but to carry out our original plan and go back to the mansion—on foot. Let's see what we can salvage.”

Fortunately, the Hardys' backpacks had survived the accident largely unscathed. But before
they could rummage further, a growl from the nearby woods caught their attention.

“Don't look now,” Joe said, “but Fuzzy's back.”

Sure enough, the gray form of the wolf-dog loped out of the underbrush near the van. His fangs were bared and a murderous glint lit his yellow eyes. The brothers could hear a faint birdlike whistling as Scavenger approached: Regina Cross giving long-distance orders to her pet.

“Shoo, Scavenger! Shoo!” Joe said, waving his backpack at the animal.

“That didn't work with the spider, Joe. Why do you think it's going to work with Scavenger?”

“We didn't know the spider's name,” Joe said. “And it was mechanical, besides.”

“Somehow, I don't think being on a first-name basis is going to help,” Frank said. “Come on, we don't want him to trap us in the van.”

The woods they had crashed into were on the outskirts of Sullivan's Point. Nearby, several small outbuildings loomed out of the late afternoon shadows, and beyond them, the main buildings and weed-dotted streets of the town.

At first the Hardys backed slowly away from Scavenger. The wolf-dog ambled patiently forward, as if waiting for a signal to attack.

When they neared the first buildings, Frank looked at Joe and gave his brother a silent nod. Instantly, the siblings split and ran in opposite directions;
Joe for the main street, Frank for the alley running in back of the nearby buildings.

With a growl, Scavenger leapt after Frank. Frank had been on the track team in school, but he knew he couldn't outdistance a wolf for long. His only chance lay in losing the wolf in the streets of Sullivan's Point.

The growling grew louder and Frank risked a glance back. Scavenger had closed the gap between them. A nearby rain barrel gave Frank the chance he needed. Lashing out with his foot as he ran, Frank kicked the barrel into the wolf's path.

The move caught Scavenger by surprise. The barrel hit the animal and tripped him up. He yelped and Frank opened the distance between them.

Frank knew that Joe would be looking for a way to get them out of their predicament, and he hoped that he'd bought his brother enough time to come up with something good.

But when he turned into an alley, his heart sank. In front of him, a wall of boards rose to a height of ten feet. The alley was a dead end.

Knowing he didn't have time to turn back, Frank sprinted toward the fence and jumped. The skills he'd learned on Bayport High's basketball team served him well, and he easily caught the top edge with his fingers. He began to pull himself up just as Scavenger rounded the corner.

The wolf leapt at Frank as he bellied up over the top of the wall. The animal gnashed his teeth and growled; Frank could feel Scavenger's hot breath on his heels. Then the elder Hardy was over the wall and out of harm's way.

He met up with Joe on the other side.

“Lose him?” Joe asked.

Frank shook his head. “Not for long.”

“Okay,” Joe said, “follow me. I scoped the place out while the wolf chased you.” He led Frank into the first floor of a nearby abandoned shop. The sign out front read, Denning & Hayday, Fine Reading. Inside the bookshop was filled with huge, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all empty. A winding wooden stairway led to a second floor balcony in the back of the store. A skylight above the balcony provided the store with ample light, even in the late afternoon.

A rolling ladder leaned against the long bookshelf to the right of the doorway. It was tall enough to reach the upper bookshelves.

“Frank,” Joe said, “block the stairway with one of those bookcases, then hustle up to the second floor and get ready to leave by the skylight.”

“What are you going to do?”

Joe smiled. “See if this wolf is smart enough to open a door.”

Frank did as he was told, hiking up to the second floor and pushing a big oak table under the
skylight. Joe rolled the ladder toward the front of the store and then took up a position beside the open door. He didn't have to wait long.

Just a minute later Scavenger came bounding down the street, following Frank's scent.

“Hey, hairy! In here!” Joe called.

The wolf turned on a dime and bolted toward the doorway. As he did, Joe scurried up to the top of the ladder.

Scavenger entered the bookshop. As he did, Joe kicked the door with his toe; it slammed shut behind the wolf and locked automatically, just as Joe had planned. Scavenger snarled at Joe and tried to jump up the ladder, but the younger Hardy remained just out of the wolf's reach.

Joe held on to the ladder with both hands, put his feet against the wall above the door, and shoved with all his might. The ladder shot down the wall of bookshelves, stopping only when it hit the balcony railing. Joe hopped off onto the second floor.

Enraged, Scavenger raced for the second floor. But the bookshelves that Frank had toppled at the bottom of the stairs were too high; the wolf couldn't jump over them.

“Great work, Joe!” Frank said as he helped his brother scramble up the table and out of the skylight. Soon, they were on the roof of the building and climbing down a fire escape to street level.

“That ought to hold him,” Joe said. “Unless he decides to go through the plate-glass window in the front of the store.”