Dark Ride (4 page)

Chapter 7

The Braddocks' kitchen counter has seen better days. Large clunks of peanut butter and jelly are smattered here and there, along with an empty milk jug, a half-full bag of chips, and some bills and coupons messily stacked next to Brenna's purse. Jack walks into the living room with his recently constructed sandwich to see if anything good is on TV, simply looking for a way to kill time until 6 p.m. when his dad takes him to the park. Jack considers laying on the couch to doze off. He had not gotten much sleep last night due to envisioning exactly how he would pull off grabbing his prop from inside the Dark Ride.

Flopping down on the couch, he tries to catch up on some sleep, but, once again, thoughts of how to get the prop disturb him. His target would be a small golden statue inside one of the first few rooms that make up the Enchanted Forrest. Within the ride, there are several rooms that revolve around the fairy tale of “Jack and the Beanstalk,” the old familiar story where the character Jack climbs a beanstalk, enters a giant's castle, and steals a goose that lays golden eggs to help his family out of poverty. Obviously, by sharing his name with the hero of the tale, Jack thought there would be no more appropriate keepsake than a small golden statue of a goose that the ride displays in the “Giant's Room.” The statue rests on a fireplace. The major problem would be getting out of the small moving vehicle in order to snatch the item. He had to figure out some way.
The statue is just too perfect
, Jack reasons
.
Just like his namesake, Jack would take the golden goose.

His plan to sprawl out on the couch and take a nap is futile. He cannot sleep while wrestling with the problem. Jack contemplates,
How can I get out of the train to get the goose
?
Will I be able to leave the ride and hop back on before it gets away from me?

Just then Blair waltzes into the room, phone to her ear, as always. “I know they are just obnoxious sometimes, no all the time…one day he will get what he deserves…that will be too sweet.”

Jack is curious as to whom his sister is speaking, but decides to ignore her. Flipping on the TV, a commercial for Titus Chick, Mason's dad, is on.

“That was Denise,” Blair says. His sister reaches down and grabs the remote, flipping off the TV.

“Who's Denise?”

“Can it, egghead—you know exactly who Denise is.”

“No, I don't.”

“Uh, yes you do. She happens to be the lifeguard your little friend soaked yesterday afternoon with his little cannonball routine.”

“And this matters to me because?”

“You tell that brat that next time Denise will have him expelled from the pool—for good.”

“She can't do that. Besides, she's a lifeguard.” He repeats the word slowly for emphasis, “Lifeguard. Isn't she supposed to get wet? I say occupational hazard.”

“Oh, you guys think you're so cute. You know, your little pranks are going to catch up with you one day. What if Denise was mad enough to call her boyfriend, who's on the wrestling team, by the way? She could simply say one word like, ‘sick 'em,' and Mason would be begging for mercy.”

“'Sick 'em' is actually two words.”

“Oh, you are really smug, aren't you?”

“What are you gonna do, have Colton Spurlock beat me up? Maybe you guys can talk about that at the mall tonight. You can arrange your hit then.”

Jack could see Blair reaching her breaking point. And like all good younger siblings who smell blood, Jack goes in for the kill. “Maybe mom and dad would be interested to know Colton is on your speed dial. I think
that information would intrigue them since you were forbidden to date him.”

“You little!” Blair's face twists into an angry snarl.

Evasive maneuvers are required. The sandwich drops to the floor, and Jack leaps off the couch and heads for the stairs. Turning to gauge the distance between him and Blair, he realizes that her arm is coming forward with an object in it. Jack ducks as the phone whistles through the air.

Crash
! The projectile smashes into a family portrait hanging above the piano.

Both siblings look at the portrait in horror.

The picture is one of those false illusions. All four of them dressed in khaki pants and white button downs sitting on the beach. It's their mom's favorite thing in the entire house. She paid a photographer loads of money while the family was on vacation to come and snap the photo. Jack always gets a kick out of how happy and peaceful they all look. Mere seconds before the photo was taken, Jack had been arguing with Blair, and their mom had been riding Wallace about taking a call from work on the beach.

A thorough investigation reveals a small chip in the glass.

“Now you're in for it, Blair. Looks like someone is going to get grounded.”

“Mom will never notice. You better keep this quiet.”

“Oh, mom won't notice, huh?”

“No, she won't unless some useless little brat tattle-tells.”

The insult inspires Jack to push on. “So mom won't notice what you did, huh?”

The sinister idea just pops into his head. Jack bends down and lifts the phone to the picture. With a quick forward motion he slams the instrument hard against the crack.

A thin trial of shattered glass stretches out from the original crack like a spider web.

“I think she'll notice now. Looks like someone is in big trouble.”

“You…you!” Blair screams.

Blair's scream is so loud that Brenna Braddock is called away from folding clothes upstairs. The familiar footsteps patter down the carpeted steps.

“What in the world are you two fighting about now?”

Neither Blair nor Jack makes a move.

Brenna scans the room. “My picture!” Her face shows a look of total despair.

“Blair did it, mom. She got so angry, she threw her phone at me.”

“No, he did it. Mom, he took my phone and slammed it into the picture!”

“Enough!”

The ferocity of his mother's voice sends a cold chill up Jack's spine. He realizes this is serious
.
The look, the tone—they were reserved for capital offenses.

“I have had it up to here with your antics, both of you. Where did I go so wrong that my two children treat each other like this?” She pauses, red-faced, to think. “You're both grounded for at least a week.”

“But mom, it was all Blair's fault.”

“I don't care whose fault it was. One week—no TV, no movies, no car, no anything! You will be in your rooms, unless you're doing chores. The chores will commence tomorrow morning.”

“Mom, I was going to the mall tonight.”

“No, ma'am, you will be staying right here.”

Blair storms up the steps.
SLAM
!

Jack is in total shock. He wonders,
What about tonight
? His little stunt has completely backfired. He thinks,
She cannot mean this.
Time for some smooth talk.
“Mom, I'm sorry about what happened. It just got out of control.”

He waits a second and then risks it.

“Can I still go to the park tonight? I mean, it's closing and all.”

“Jack, you're not talking your way out of this one. You should have thought about the consequences when you and your sister decided to destroy my picture.”

“But, mom!”

“Not another word, Jack. I hate that I have to do this, but you and Blair have to learn to coexist.” Jack's world has just caved in. “One week,” his mom says, and then, after pausing thoughtfully, “and no park tonight.”

Chapter 8

With mallet in hand, Clyde examines his latest handy work. He has just placed a “Park Closing” sign up in front of the main ticket gate, another painful reminder that he only has two more days on the job. He notices a slick black, top-of-the-line BMW pull into the parking space reserved for Howard Snodgrass.

“The boss is here,” Gwen announces gloomily, holding the season pass sign that she just took down.

Oh brother, here we go
, Clyde says to himself as he takes a deep breath and prepares for the impending conversation.

The stout man struggles against his own girth to pry himself out of the front seat. Finally freed, Howard Snodgrass slams the door and ambles towards Clyde and Gwen, obviously irritated.

“So what's this about a wolf being gone? And why, pray tell, did I have to come all the way down here to see about it?”

“All the way down here: meant five minutes.

Gwen clears her throat and says, “Mr. Snodgrass, I thought—”

Clyde cuts her off, thinking,
No need for the kid to get involved
, and says, “Looks like we had some vandals last night.” He turns and nods to Gwen. “Mr. Snodgrass, I thought you needed to see for yourself.” Even though Clyde is 20 years Snodgrass's senior, Howard makes everyone address him as mister. Clyde often wonders if Mrs. Snodgrass had to, too.

“So. You've dealt with vandals before, Clyde. Just do your job.”

Clyde's job description never included night watchman. Those guys had been let go years ago, after the park's financial trouble had started. Still, Clyde had dealt with lots of things that were not his job. At this point, Clyde decides not to mention the incident with the music from the night before. He is already trying to suppress the memory, and it wouldn't really matter. Snodgrass will ignore him.

“Actually, Mr. Snodgrass, I was the one—”

Clyde cuts her off again. “I did not want to bother you, sir, but the fact is that the wolf is a major part of the Enchanted Forrest. The park guests will be upset if it's not there.”

“Oh, horse hockey. We only have two miserable days left in this miserable little park. Who cares if someone stole a wolf statue? They could steal the roller coaster and I would not care at this point. Now, explain to me why I was called down here?”

Again, Gwen continues, trying to take the bullet, “Sir, in orientation—.”

Again, Clyde interrupts her to cover. “I thought since you were the operations manager you would be concerned, that's all.” Her intentions are noble, but he's not letting her fall on the sword.

“So what am I supposed to do? Call the cops?”

“Well, maybe.”

“Clyde, we are not about to call the police down here about some stupid little prop. Do you have any idea what kind of paper work I would
have to fill out? Plus, don't the police have something better to do than worry about this kind of garbage?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Good. Now go back and do all those important things that you maintenance people do like pick up some trash or fiddle with your thumbs. I'm going home. And, Clyde?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, this park is done. Consider this your two-day notice.”

“You were right,” Gwen declares as Snodgrass ambles back toward the parking lot. “Thanks for covering for me.”

“Don't mention it.” Clyde peers at the backside of the departing Snodgrass. It takes all of Clyde's reserve not to tackle the man right then and there. He stews,
His flippant attitude about the closing is one thing. What does he have to worry about? After all, his rich daddy, Art Snodgrass, CEO of Newcastle, Inc., will probably give him some cushy job. But the fact that he does not even care enough to step in and at least check out the disappearance is revolting.
Howard Snodgrass has never cared about the park or its guests, and that, at least to Clyde, is a major reason the park is closing.

Chapter 9

“You have got to be kidding, Jack.” Mason says. His irritation coming through the phone is more than justifiable. “This just won't do—no, not at all. We're leaving in like an hour.”

“I know, I know. But I'm really up the creek here. Look, I blew it this time. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?”

“Jack, what about our plan? The three of us, taking a keepsake from the Enchanted Forrest. There has to be a way you can get out of this.”

“Dude, I'm stuck here. I'm just as hacked as you are. You two will just have to go without me. Other than sneaking out tonight, I really have no other options. My mom is not going to give.”

“That's a good idea!”

“What?”

“Sneak out.”

“Oh…I don't know, Mason. I'm already in the doghouse.”

“But it's our last night at the park—your park.”

“Sneaking out? That's about as bad as it gets. If I get caught, I may be grounded forever.”

“Don't get caught. Jack, how late do your parents stay out at the Zuckerman's?”

“Oh, I don't know, around 10, but sometimes later.”

“Okay, that's it. We simply get you home by 9:30.”

“My folks leave around 5. How am I supposed to get over to the park? I can't ride my bike—that would take over an hour.”

“Look I will come to your house around 5:15. I'll call Scotty and tell him we are coming to his house to hitch a ride. We can ride our bikes over there in less than ten minutes. The Carnahans will have no clue you're sneaking out. It's perfect.”

Jack thinks,
You do want this really bad. It's worth the risk.

A feeble,“Okay,” escapes from Jack's mouth before he can second-guess the heavy decision.

“Good, Jack, see you then. You won't regret this.”

He's right,
Jack says to himself,
Everything will work out fine…I hope.

For the next hour, Jack whirls about his room in quiet preparation. In order for this to go smoothly, he has to account for Blair. She would be lurking around the house, and if she got the slightest notion of his plan, he would be busted.

Years ago, there had been no sibling rivalry. There are scrapbooks filled with happy pictures that bare proof. One shows Blair, age five, holding little Jack. Another is a shot of them as small children with paint-covered faces, grinning at the camera. And another has Blair, age nine, and Jack, age seven, standing in three inches of snow, proud of a four-foot snowman built with themselves. But those photos, those happy memories, are mere shadows of the past. The rivalry and hostility began the instant Blair turned 12.

It was an elaborate party. Wallace and Brenna had gone all-out with cake, balloons, family, and friends, all filling the Braddock living room. Brenna had even given Blair a new white dress to wear to the party. It was exactly what Blair wanted, a tribute to her. Blair no longer saw herself as a little girl, and this marked the culmination of her transition out of childhood with a towering birthday cake celebrating the coming of age of one soon to be crowned princess.

For his part, Jack wanted to do something special as well. He was a prankster, of course, and a trip to the novelty store had provided him with trick candles, ones that would re-light after being blown out over and over again. Jack beamed with pride as he relished in the joke. He thought it would be perfect and that everyone would love it. On the day of the party, he had taken every precaution to make sure no one saw him replace the ordinary candles with the trick ones. During the celebration, Jack watched from a distance, simply awaiting the cake and his moment. His eyes followed the cake as it was brought from the kitchen. Blair stood at the end of a table, flanked by an assortment of 12-year-old girls and one boy, her current “boyfriend,” a blonde-haired kid named Grayson. This was her day, and she glowed with pride. The white cake was lowered to the table, and the guests began to sing. Twelve candles were lit. They sparked and flared to life.

Jack eased forward to get a good view. Before blowing them out, Blair thanked everyone in a diva-like salute. Jack could hardly contain his excitement. Then Blair began to blow out the candles. With a rather ladylike gust of wind, she puffed several times, and the candles went dead. Jack starred, anticipating what was to come next. The candles, one by one, sparked back to life. A few laughs rippled through the mass of guests. Blair looked slightly embarrassed and repeated her dainty gusts. The scene repeated itself. Jack could not contain his own pride. He wanted everyone to know this was his joke.

“Gotcha good, Blair,” he announced.

After few more laughs, Jack looked for approval, but he was disappointed. The girl made an unfamiliar face, one of anger and irritation. She was determined not to allow the prank to spoil her party. She climbed up on a chair, hovering over the cake itself. Forgetting her ladylike charms, she sucked in lungs full of air and blew down upon the cake candles. Her face showed determination; this time she would win. But as she blew out the wind in her cheeks, her right arm gave way. Her entire body lost balance and she collapsed head first into the cake. Her dress was ruined, her cake was ruined, and, by all accounts, her perfect day was ruined as well.

Jack was punished for the prank, even though he said, “But I didn't mean for that to happen.”

His mother was furious and responded, “But it did.”

It was that event that marked the change in their relationship. Blair never got over the embarrassment of that day. It was supposed to have been the greatest day of her life. For his part, Jack had never gotten over being punished for the good-natured prank. It made little difference that it was one isolated incident up to that point. From that moment on, the sibling rivalry had begun, and since then, things between Blair and Jack have never been the same. No matter how small the offense, the slightest argument would turn into a global conflict. Now, Blair saw Jack as her irritating little brother, and she took joy in getting him in trouble. In Jack's eyes, Blair was his nosy older sister, so tonight, as he prepared to sneak out of the house, he would have to watch out for her.

He and Mason had carefully talked over the plan. The review had taken quite some time from start to finish, but Jack felt ready. He pulls out the fire escape ladder from underneath his bed. He had never used it, so he familiarizes himself with how it works. There will only be a few minutes between the moment his parents leave and when Mason shows up to aid in his escape. He looks at the backpack in the corner. It is the perfect vessel for stashing the golden goose. He grabs an old red-hooded sweatshirt from his drawer and places it inside his backpack along with a T-shirt. He always packs an extra shirt just in case he gets wet on one of the water rides. Finally, He snags a pack of Twizzlers, his favorite candy, from the nightstand and then stands, scanning the room for anything else he might want or need.

From underneath a pile of socks, hastily placed in the corner of his closet, he removes a small plastic hippo. The container bought at the Louisville Zoo when he was six has faithfully served as his piggy bank. He pulls out a wadded up $20 bill and three fives.

A knock on his door causes him to quickly sling the bank back in the closet.

“Who is it?”

“It's mom, I'm coming in.”

The ladder!
remembers Jack.

With cat-like agility, Jack leaps over to the ladder and kicks it under the bed. He then assumes the proper hurt-slash-penitent look of sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at a spot on the wall, looking completely bored with a little bit of “my cat just died” thrown in.

His mom walks into the room with a casserole dish in her hands.

The smell of his mother's tuna casserole fills the room. Ugh, Jack says to himself. The vile concoction has made Jack sick more than once.

“Jack, your father and I are leaving.”

Jack can see the outline of his father coming up from behind his mom.

“Jack, I simply want you to do the right thing. Today you made a bad choice and that has to be addressed.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“There are still consequences, Jack. You know that.”

In another desperate plea, Jack says, “But I'm being punished for something Blair did. She started the whole—”

“I don't want to hear it, Jack. The decision is made.” Brenna chews on her lip a moment, trying to figure out how to soften things. She goes with, “I love you, Jack. I want you to learn to be the man your father and I hope you'll be, okay? And that's not someone who antagonizes others.”

The feelings of guilt wash over Jack. His mom had played the “I love you” card. He reprimands himself for even thinking about sneaking out and surmises,
I can't do that now.
Somehow moms know exactly when to say those three little words. Jack is convinced that his mom has been a part of some underground secret mother society where she worked on using guilt as a weapon.

“Jack,” his father interjects. “This kind of behavior is not acceptable. I hope you take the hurt of tonight and channel it into improved behavior. You have so much potential. We need to see a drastic change for the better soon. ” It is a typical Wallace Braddock moment. He speaks to Jack like an employee he is threatening with a pink slip.

Brenna steps in front of Wallace, a gesture to show that he isn't speaking for the both of them, and says, “We'll be back before 10. Just…make wise decisions, okay?”

Before she exits, she leans over and kisses him on the forehead. “Bye, Jack, don't stay up too late. I have a list of chores we need to tackle first thing in the morning.”

Exiting, his father nods to him and closes the door.

The guilt settles somewhere in Jack's head and seers his conscience. There is no way he can sneak out now. Locking the door behind his parents, Jack grabs the backpack, unzips the bag, and pulls out the contents.

After a few moments, he hears the front door close and his father's Toyota Camry start. He sulks over to retrieve the plastic hippo when he hears an odd sound.

Ping
,
ping
.

The sharp noise is coming from the window. Jack takes four steps and looks through the pane. The car is gone. He scans the yard…nothing. Then, another
ping
. Looking straight down below him he sees Mason hidden amongst the shrubbery and dressed head to toe in black. Something large is draped over his shoulder.

Jack can't believe this.
He's here already?
he thinks.
How can I tell Mason I'm not going through with this?

Jack lifts the window. “Mason, the coast is clear. You can get out of our bushes.”

Before leaving his hiding spot, Mason gives a comical exaggerated glance to his right, then to his left. He slings whatever is draped over his shoulder to the lawn and then dives from the brush and rolls into the lawn. He looks around again, and in a loud whisper, he calls up to Jack, “Okay, Braddock, the great escape begins now.”

Oh man,
thinks Jack,
better just say it.
He explains,
“
Uh…Mason, I'm not going.”

“What?”

“I said I'm not going.”

“Why, what's gotten into you?”

“Well, I….” Jack thinks,
I can't tell him my mom said “
I love you.” I would never hear the end of that. Think fast.
He says,
“
Uh, I've got homework.” Immediately, he tells himself,
Oh no, no, no that's not good.

“
You've got homework, Jack? It's summer! Are you kidding me?”

“
Uh, yes—I mean no—I've got homework—like, work to do at home
.
”

“
Jack, you're chickening out.”

“
No, I'm not. Just got a lot of chores.”

“
Jack, we only have fifteen minutes to get over to the Carnahans'. Need I remind you that tonight is the last night we will ever be able to go to the park? We have plans, awesome plans. You're not going to let me down, are you?”

Oh brother,
thinks Jack,
Now Mason has played the “let me down card.” What am I going to do?
Jack stares down at Mason and realizes,
This will be my last chance. Mason has gone to a lot of trouble.

Jack nods at his friend and removes the escape ladder from its resting place. The ladder latches to the window frame easily and chain link steps flow down to the ground. Mason grabs the thing from the lawn and struggles up the ladder.

At the window, Mason slings the large item from his back. To Jack's astonishment, he sees that it's a dummy dressed in a green T-shirt and jeans. The head is made out of a volleyball, complete with a brown wig.

Knowing that secrecy is the upmost priority, in a whispered hush Jack asks the obvious, “What are we gonna do with that?”

A whispering Mason responds, “We're going to place this thing in the bed. Just in case your sister comes into the room. It took me three hours to make it this afternoon. I stuffed it with grass cuttings.”

“You're gonna put your backyard in my bed?”

“Yeah. But it doesn't look like my backyard.” Mason sidles up next to the dummy and smiles as if Jack's got a camera.

“Fine.”

“What was that all about anyways? You were backing out.”

“No, my parents really gave me a bunch of stuff to do.”

He didn't mention that his mother had prepared the list for tomorrow. Mason seems appeased but leery. Shrugging off the uncomfortable moment, the two friends finagle the dummy in the bed.

“What made you think of this?”

“Jack, this is not my first escape. This Chuck is just the latest of many.”

“It has a name?”

“Of course, it's Charles Coltraine Higgenbotham. Chuck, for short.”

“I don't care.”

Mason covers the dummy's ears and says, “You'll hurt his feelings.” He spies a tinge of reluctance on Jack's part. “Come on, always works for me.”