Feeding Frenzy Read online

  She didn’t even say guys. Hello? Had I gone invisible?

  “Good question,” said Frank. At least he’d stopped um-ing and uh-ing. “My brother and I were trying to see if we could make it all the way down the row of balconies without—”

  “Breaking your necks?” S.C. interrupted.

  “Yeah.” Frank smiled again. “It’s a guy kind of thing.”

  “So I couldn’t understand?” asked S.C. The accent was killing me. It sounded like cotton candy tastes. Ms. Whitman, my English teacher, would be proud of that metaphor.

  Frank here. She’d be proud if you realized that it’s a simile.

  Out. My section.

  Anyway, Frank managed to answer S.C., even though he is an idiot around girls. “Probably not,” he said. “We didn’t mean to scare you or anything. We were just going to go right by. But my brother accidentally took out your plant.”

  S.C. glanced over at it. “I think it’ll live. I hope you do. Go ahead with your balcony thing.” She waved as Frank and I trotted in front of her and swung off her railing.

  When we got to the balcony under ours, I stood up on the railing. With my arms stretched over my head, I could just grab the edge of our balcony floor with my fingers. I hoped aerobic exercise really was the way to prep for an eating competition, because I was definitely getting me some as I pulled myself up until I could brace my toes on the balcony too. Then I climbed over.

  “Home at last!” I exclaimed as I collapsed on the nearest lounge chair. I stared at Frank as he made his landing. “I just don’t get what’s so special about you,” I said.

  “What?” Frank grabbed a half-empty soda and took a long drink.

  “I mean, why do girls always stare at you when I’m standing right there?” I complained. “Maybe it’s because I’m so good-looking I intimidate them. Yeah, I can see that. I’m all blond and everything. And everyone knows girls prefer blondes. They probably feel more comfortable with you, because they don’t think somebody like you—a more ordinary guy—will reject them.”

  “Is it possible for you to stop thinking about girls until we find the killer who is on the loose?” Frank asked. “I could hardly get you to focus on looking for our suspects in those video clips.”

  I leaped to my feet as if I’d been electrocuted and rushed inside. I powered up the laptop.

  “Are you working?” Frank asked me from the doorway. “I can’t believe it. I don’t think you’ve ever in your life actually listened to me. At least not so fast.”

  I got to YouTube, found one of the clips we’d watched earlier, and clicked it. Where was she? Where was she?

  There!

  I hit pause. “Look at that girl!” I ordered Frank.

  “What did I just say about the girl thing?” he asked.

  “Look at her!” I tapped the screen.

  “We discussed her before—her long hair, and her long legs, and the almost certainty of … A tattoo on the stomach.” There it was. The lightbulb slowly flickering to life over his head.

  “It’s her, right?” I asked. “I know it was dark, but it’s gotta be her. Long blond hair. The legs. The dark spot on her stomach I thought was a tat and the bumblebee tattoo are in exactly the same place.”

  “I think we have a new suspect,” Frank told me. “You rock!”

  “Let’s go talk to her.” I stood up and we hurried out of the room. We took the stairs down to the sixteenth floor. Neither of us wanted to bother waiting for the elevator.

  “It should be room 1609,” Frank said as we walked down the hall. “Her balcony was right next to Douglas’s.”

  “This is it, then.” I knocked on the door. No one answered, but I heard soft shuffling sounds inside. I knocked again.

  “Keep your pants on,” a familiar voice called. A familiar voice that so didn’t remind me of sweet cotton candy. “I’m coming.”

  More shuffling. Then the door swung open. Angie stood there, her hair wrapped in a towel. Her face looked even blotchier than usual. “Sorry. I was in the shower. Obviously.” She swept her hand down, indicating her floor-length robe. “What’s up? Did the time change for dinner?”

  “Hey, Angie. Actually, we wanted to talk to, I guess it would be your roommate,” I said.

  “What roommate?” she asked.

  Frank and I exchanged a confused glance. “We met a girl earlier today,” I explained. “Blond. About as tall as you. Kinda thin. Southern accent. Frank immediately got a big crush on her. He thought she told him this was her room.”

  “Well, she must have wanted to ditch him, because I’m the only one in here,” said Angie.

  I slapped Frank on the shoulder. “Frank, dude, that’s cruel and unusual.” I looked back over at Angie. “Have you seen a blond girl like that anywhere around? Maybe Frank just heard her wrong and she lives in one of the rooms right near you.”

  “I don’t really stalk my neighbors,” Angie said. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you—”

  Before she could finish, a scream cut through the hallway. Long, and loud, and terrified.

  9

  Strike Position

  “It’s coming from down there!” I yelled. I took off down the hall, Joe and Angie right behind me.

  The scream came again. The sound made the hair on my arms stand up.

  “I think that’s Vern!” Angie exclaimed. “That’s his room right there! With the door partway open.”

  “Slow down. Don’t just run in,” I ordered. “We don’t know what’s in there.” The door was ajar. I pushed it a little wider. I heard Angie suck in her breath as she saw what was inside.

  Vern sat motionless on the bed. A rattlesnake lay less than two feet away from him.

  Cautiously I moved into the room, looking for a weapon. I grabbed the only thing I saw that might work—the lamp off the dresser.

  The snake gave a rattle of warning at the motion. It curled the bottom half of its body into a defensive coil and raised the rest of its body into the air.

  “Don’t,” Vern said, his voice tight. “If you get close enough to hit it, it could bite you.” He gave a laugh that was on the edge of crying. “Or me.”

  “He’s right, Frank. They’re supposed to be able to strike as far as half their body length,” Joe agreed. “I’ll go find something we can use.” He disappeared out the door.

  “Okay, let’s all just stay very still,” I said. “It’s probably more scared of us than we are of it. Let’s not give it any reason to freak out.”

  Vern gave a fractional nod.

  I kept my eyes on the snake. It seemed like every nerve in the rattler’s body was focused on Vern.

  I flexed my fingers on the base of the lamp. How long should I wait without taking any action? I’d told Vern and Angie that we shouldn’t give the snake a reason to freak out. The thing was, it already looked freaked. It was holding its body in strike position. It was giving warning rattles.

  When it moved to strike, it would be too late to do anything. It would happen way too fast for us to even see it. Forget about stop it.

  I heard footsteps in the hall, then Joe crept back into the room, Douglas with him. Joe held a large garbage can. Slowly, he raised it in the air, then glanced over at me. I nodded. I thought it might work. It was our best chance.

  In one fast movement, Joe stepped forward and brought the can down over the snake. I heard it strike the plastic. Its fangs would have gone into Joe’s calf if the garbage can hadn’t been between them.

  Vern scrambled off the bed and backed up until he hit the sliding door across the room. Joe stayed where he was, with both hands firmly on the top of the can. We could hear the snake whipping around underneath it, tail rattling.

  “I’ll call the front desk,” Angie said. She inched around Joe, heading for the phone. The can jerked, and she pressed her hands over his, her head tight against his arm.

  “I’m okay,” Joe told her. “Go phone.” Angie slowly released her hands and continued to the nightsta
nd.

  “How did it get all the way up here?” Vern asked. “It’s the sixteenth floor.”

  “It would have needed help,” muttered Douglas.

  “Help like the shark had help attacking Jordan,” Joe suggested.

  I tried to take in everyone’s reaction at once. Everyone was looking down at the garbage can. Everyone looked scared.

  Angie rejoined the group. “They’re sending somebody up right now,” she said. “I think Mr. P. should get some serious bucks taken off his bill.”

  “It’s not the hotel’s fault if somebody brought the snake in,” Vern said.

  “I didn’t even think of that. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. After Jordan almost got chomped on. And David …” Angie let her words trail off. She chewed hard on her watermelon and peppermint gum.

  “I’m dropping out of the competition,” Vern announced.

  Before anyone could say anything, the elevator pinged and the sound of many feet came rushing down the hall. “You say you have a rattler trapped under there?” the first security guard asked when they got to the door.

  “Definitely,” Joe answered, still keeping both hands on the garbage can.

  “I’ll take that over,” another guard said. He put his hands next to Joe’s, and Joe stepped back. “We have Wildlife Services on the way.”

  “We need you kids to clear out of here now,” the first guard said. “Go down to the pool or the café until we get things under control.”

  We headed out into the hall. “You’re really dropping out of the contest?” Douglas asked. He was talking to Vern but looking at the floor.

  “I think this is a conversation we should be having with everyone in the group,” said Angie. “Let’s get Kyle and Jordan.”

  Ten minutes later we were sitting at a big table poolside. Tiki torches flickered around us. Vern finished filling in Kyle and Jordan on what had happened to him. “That’s why I think I’m going to drop out of the competition. We’ve got one guy dead. And we’ve got two guys who almost died. Me and Jordan.”

  “The way I figure it, I’ve survived the worst,” Jordan said. “Thanks to Frank and Joe, I didn’t end up shark chow. I’m not quitting now. If I did, they might not let me stay for the Super Bowl, and my life’s not worth living if I don’t see the Super Bowl live once.”

  “I’m not quitting,” Kyle spat out. “You know how much I gave up for this?” The torches threw shadows over his face, making him look like a stranger. “My girlfriend dumped me because I wasn’t spending enough time with her. I gave up chess, even though I’ve competed in national tournaments. I haven’t even watched any of the new season of Lost. I am absolutely not quitting. You all quit if you want. It’s not like any of you are going to win anyway.”

  “So you care because you want to win? That’s it?” Angie asked.

  “What do you mean, that’s it?” demanded Kyle.

  “I mean, is that the only reason you care? Just so you’ll be number one or whatever?”

  “I trained for—”

  “I get that. What you don’t get is what I’m asking.” Angie shoved her glasses higher on her nose and snapped her gum. “Look, I want to win, because I want the money. I want to go to NYU film school. My parents won’t pay. They’ll only pay if I go to college for something so-called practical. This is my shot to do what I want with my life. Do you get the difference? I’m talking about my life. I’m not quitting.”

  “Me either,” Douglas said. He didn’t give his reasons. But Joe and I already knew what they were. The journal had been way too clear.

  “We’re not quitters,” Joe said for both of us.

  “Are you idiots, then?” Vern demanded, flipping his bangs out of his face. “Are you all idiots? You can’t win if you’re dead. You can’t go to film school if you’re dead. You can’t do anything if you’re dead.” He stood up so fast he knocked his chair over.

  “Look, the contest is almost here. We’re less than a day away,” Angie said. “There’s not much time for whoever’s doing this garbage to do anything else.” She got to her feet. “So what I’m going to do is go to my room. I’m eating dinner from room service. I’m going to stay in my room and away from all of you—because, sorry to say it, it seems like one of you is completely psycho and trying to kill the rest of us.”

  She turned around and started to walk away. “See you at the competition,” she added over her shoulder.

  Vern stared after her, then shook his head. “If you’re all staying in, I guess I’m staying in too. Why should I be the only sane one?” He gave a shaky smile. “Besides, I’ve already had my turn. Maybe whoever’s doing this will come after one of you next.”

  10

  Crazy and Insane

  “What do you think? Will the killer make a play for somebody else before the competition?” I asked Frank. We were still sitting by the pool. Everyone else had gone up to their rooms. They’d all decided that Angie had the right idea to just lay low.

  “Whoever the killer is, they’re feeling desperate,” Frank answered. “They tried to kill two people in less than a day. That’s incredibly risky.”

  “I guess we can take Vern off our suspect list now that he’s been a victim. At least as long as we’re assuming the same person who killed David is also responsible for the attacks on Jordan and Vern,” I said.

  “I think we should keep that as our theory for now,” Frank agreed. “So, yeah, Jordan and Vern are off our list unless something changes.”

  “So who is still on?” It helped to think out loud.

  “Kyle and Douglas, even though we didn’t find any evidence against them in their rooms,” said Frank.

  “Kyle has even more invested in the competition than we thought. Can you believe he lost his girlfriend over the amount of time he spent training?” I shook my head. “Actually, I can totally believe it,” I said, answering my own question. “What I really meant was—isn’t it insane that he was willing to lose his girlfriend over his crazy training routine?”

  “Crazy and insane. Those are both words that could describe our killer, don’t you think?” Frank asked. “Someone who is willing to take multiple lives to win a contest. A hot dog eating contest.”

  “Except we have to remember it’s not necessarily just about winning the contest. It’s about what winning the contest can bring. Like what Angie was saying. For her it’s a chance to go to film school.”

  “That’s still not a good reason to murder people,” Frank protested.

  “I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying it’s not just about wanting to be the one who eats the most hot dogs,” I told him. “Like Douglas. He clearly feels like he’s not worth anything if he can’t get some kind of trophy. He has this twisted idea that his parents will care more about him if he wins tomorrow.”

  “True.” Frank stretched his arms up over his head. “So Kyle, Douglas, and Angie all have big reasons for wanting to win. How do we narrow that list down?”

  “There’s also the cute blond girl who’s in the hotel and was at the competition when David was killed,” I reminded him.

  “I’m trying to make the list shorter, not longer,” Frank complained. “But we definitely can’t forget about her.”

  “At this point, I think it would be hard to get Angie out of her room for long enough to do a search. And we don’t know which room the Mystery Girl is in,” I said. I tapped my forehead with my fingers. Sometimes that jars ideas loose.

  “That tapping thing never works,” Frank told me.

  “You don’t know that.” I kept tapping.

  “Yeah, I do. Because I’ve seen you tapping. And then I’ve seen the lack of ideas that follows.”

  “Maybe the ideas do follow. Maybe they just don’t follow at the speed you expect them to. Since you don’t have a little surveillance camera in my brain, you can’t be sure.” I kept tapping, even though it was making my forehead sore and I wanted to stop. Sometimes a big brother with his big-brother attitude
can do that to you.

  “Surveillance camera,” Frank repeated. He jumped up. “There isn’t one in your head, but they are all over this hotel. We need to see what they got of the hall outside Vern’s room.”

  “Right! Because that snake didn’t wiggle up sixteen floors by itself. And it wasn’t tall enough to reach the buttons on the elevator.” I stood up too. “One problem. Hotel security isn’t just going to hand over the tape to two kids.”

  “Tape. Who are you, Dad?” Frank asked. “This hotel is part of an exclusive top-of-the-line chain. All their security stuff has to be stored on a hard drive. And I’m betting that the files are also all sent to a main office.”

  “Got it,” I said. I grabbed my cell and punched in Vijay Patel’s number. Vijay is with ATAC too. He’s working at getting undercover assignments, but for right now, he handles various kinds of backup. Like delivering “game cartridges.” and hacking.

  “Vij,” I said when he picked up. “Frank and I need some info that is probably out in the ethernet between two branches of the Coconut Oasis Hotel chain.”

  “When is somebody going to come up with something challenging for me to do?” he complained.

  “I wish somebody would,” I answered. “I think you have a little too much time for Christmas shopping.”

  I had a pretty good idea who thought those Underoos were funny.

  “Hey, I don’t do Christmas. I’m a Hindu. Born in India and everything,” Vijay reminded me. But I could hear in his voice that he was trying not to crack up. I could also hear that he was already clacking away at his computer keyboard.

  “He’s on it,” I told Frank. “What’s the plan?” I asked Vijay.

  “I’m just going to run a few remote exploits until I’m allowed unauthorized data access and the Coconut website starts telling me all kinds of secrets it shouldn’t,” Vijay said.

  “What kind of exploits?” I’d been wanting to take one of ATAC’s extensive hacking training sessions. But with school and missions, there hadn’t been time.