Galaxy X Read online

  “Sweet,” Joe was saying to Cody. “We should start out at the Diamond Dragon—that’s this huge vert ramp that looks totally off the hook. Then after that . . .”

  I zoned out as I followed the two of them. As cool as it was to meet Cody, I couldn’t really get into it like Joe was. It was bad enough knowing someone was sabotaging the park with a couple of dozen celebrities there. What would happen when the gates opened to the public in a few days and there were hundreds of innocent people in danger? True, no one had been badly injured yet, but that seemed more luck than anything else.

  Or was it? If McKenzie and Smith really are behind the mischief, it makes sense that they wouldn’t want anyone to actually get killed, I thought. They both seem pretty ruthless, but they’re not stupid. Then again, if it’s not them, who knows what could happen?

  As we wandered from one half-pipe to the next throughout the park, I was itching to go over our suspect list with Joe. But he showed no sign of wanting to stop playing tour guide anytime soon. I had to settle for running over the list in my head. It was pretty sparse. Basically just Smith, McKenzie himself, or some combination of the two. Or possibly those protesters, though I still couldn’t imagine how any of them could have gained the access they’d need to pull off some of these stunts.

  Or it could be someone we haven’t hit on yet, I thought grimly. We really don’t have much to go on other than some words on a computer screen.

  After about half an hour of trailing around after Joe and his new BFF, I thought about splitting off and going to see if the engineers had figured out anything back at the Saloon. Maybe that would give us some new clues. . . .

  “Check it out,” Joe was saying to Cody as they reached yet another skating fixture. “This one looks like an amazing—”

  “Hey!” a shout interrupted him. “Have you seen my father?”

  I turned and saw Nick racing toward us. He looked ashen faced and upset.

  “Not for a while,” I said. “Why? Did, um . . .” I shot a quick glance at Cody, not sure how much to say in front of him. “Did something, uh, happen?”

  “I can’t believe he’s not answering his stupid phone!” Nick ranted instead of answering. “He goes around with that thing glued to his ear, and the one time it’s really urgent he won’t answer my calls or texts or—”

  “Nick. Chill.” Joe grabbed him by the shoulders. “Take a breath, dude.” He glanced over at Cody. “Check it out—it’s Cody Zane. How cool is that?”

  Nick shook him off. “Whatever,” he snapped. “I need to find my father. Now.”

  The look in his eyes sent a chill down my spine. “Hey, Nick, what’s this about?” I asked.

  “Come here.” Nick grabbed me and dragged me away from Joe and Cody. His fingers dug into my arm so hard it hurt.

  “What is it?” I asked when we were around the corner behind a snack bar. I shook off his iron grip. “Has there been more sabotage?”

  “Worse than that.” Nick swallowed hard. “Mr. Smith is dead!”

  High Stakes

  “Hey!” I blurted out when Frank suddenly reappeared and grabbed me by the arm.

  “Could you excuse us for a sec?” Frank said to Cody. “Something just came up.”

  “No problem, dude,” Cody said. “I could use a power up anyway. Catch you later!”

  Did I mention Cody is awesome? Most of the celebs at the GX opening looked shorter or older or just less interesting in person. But Cody actually looked even cooler than he did in skate magazines or on TV. He was super-nice and down-to-earth, too, just like he came across in interviews.

  “What’s the big idea?” I complained as Frank dragged me around behind a snack bar called the Phat Shack. Nick was standing there, leaning against the snowboard-covered wall and looking totally wiped out and weird. “I was just getting ready to show Cody the—”

  “Forget about Cody for a minute,” Frank interrupted, looking grim. “Smith is dead.”

  “What?” I immediately forgot everything else. “Smith? You mean Jack Smith, as in McKenzie’s partner?”

  “That’s the one.” Nick’s voice was shaky as he answered. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Frank and I followed Nick off toward Mount McKenzie. A crowd was gathered near the edge of the wave pool that lapped at the base of the Summit. That was the name of this really serious climbing wall that made up most of the sheer southeastern face of the man-made mountain.

  When we got closer, we saw Smith. He was lying on the path in a puddle of water. His face was gray. I’d seen that look before. Usually on corpses.

  Several paramedics were working on him. But I could tell they were giving up hope. The celebrities and media types gathered around didn’t seem to realize it, though.

  “Is he okay?” a well-known reality TV star called out, sounding hysterical. “Come on, bro. He’s okay, right?”

  The head paramedic sat back on his heels and wiped his brow. “Sorry,” he said. “He’s gone.”

  “Whoa,” Frank murmured. “Looks like this mission just got a whole lot more serious.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed. I glanced at Nick. “So you never reached your dad?”

  Nick shook his head. He appeared to be in shock. A lot of people get like that when they see their first dead body.

  “I’ll try him again.” Frank pulled out his cell. He dialed and put it to his ear. “Oh—Mr. McKenzie?” he said a second later. “Hello, sir. I’m afraid there’s some bad news. . . .”

  That was weird. It sounded as if McKenzie had picked up on the first ring. So why had Nick had so much trouble reaching him?

  I glanced at Nick. He was scowling at Frank. Was he wondering the same thing? Or was he angry because he realized this made him look kind of suspicious?

  Filing those thoughts away to think about later, I stepped toward the onlookers. “What happened?” I asked.

  “It was so weird,” an actor replied in a shaky voice. “He just, like, fell!”

  Frank glanced from Smith’s body to the wave pool. “You mean he fell into the water?”

  “Yeah,” another young celebrity put in. “From the climbing wall.”

  “Huh?” Now I was getting confused. “Wait, you mean Mr. Smith was climbing the Summit?”

  “Is that his name?” This time the speaker was the lead singer of Mr. Nice Guyz, Bret Johnston. He shrugged, making a pouty little expression that probably drove the girls wild but in my opinion made him look kind of dorky. “Yeah. Kirk here dared him to do it.”

  “Don’t blame me, man!” The actor who’d spoken first backed away, looking nervous. “It was a joke. I didn’t think he’d actually go for it! Anyway, Sanchez dared him too!” He pointed to another actor.

  “I did not!” Sanchez protested.

  “Did too,” Bret said. “I heard you. You called him a creaky old fogey.”

  They all started to argue after that. But Frank and I were getting the gist of what had really happened. It sounded as if some of the young celebrities had taunted the “old fogey” into giving the climbing wall a whirl. He’d finally given in, probably in the interest of public relations. Smith wasn’t exactly the freewheeling X-Gamer type or anything, but he’d appeared to be pretty fit for his age. In other words, perfectly capable of climbing that wall even if he didn’t enjoy it much. And it sounded like he’d done fine until he was about halfway up.

  “Then he just, like, lost his grip or something,” Kirk explained with a shudder.

  “Yeah,” Bret agreed. “It was like he just fell straight backward. Totally weird.”

  “Maybe he had a heart attack!” said Sanchez hopefully. “That would mean it wasn’t our fault.”

  Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s not your fault either way,” he said. “Smith was a grown man. He chose to make that climb. He could’ve refused if he didn’t think he could handle it.” He squinted up at the climbing wall. “But listen, the wave pool is supposed to be a safety feature. A fall from that height in
to the water shouldn’t have been enough to kill him.”

  An actor whose name I didn’t know shook his head. “That’s what we thought.”

  “Yeah. We were all laughing and cheering and stuff,” Sanchez said with a guilty grimace. “That’s why it took us a minute to notice he wasn’t coming up.”

  Bret shrugged. “Guess he couldn’t swim.” He pointed to another member of the group, a well-known Olympic swimmer. “Gold Medal here dove in and pulled him out, but by then it was, you know . . .” He nodded toward the body, which the paramedics had just covered with a sheet. “Too late.”

  Just then McKenzie arrived with several security guards in tow. He spoke quietly with the paramedics, then turned to the rest of us.

  “I’m very sorry about this,” he said. “I regret that you had to witness this tragic accident, and I truly hope it won’t mar your enjoyment of Galaxy X.”

  Was it my imagination? Or had his eyes lingered accusingly on Frank and me as he looked around?

  McKenzie went on to invite everyone over to the arcade for complimentary pizza and the chance to win a jet ski in a video game contest. That seemed to cheer up the celebrities a little, though a few of them still looked upset as they hurried past Smith’s covered body. Soon the only ones left on the scene were McKenzie, Nick, the paramedics, and the dead guy. And Frank and me, of course.

  “Did you two witness this?” McKenzie snapped at us.

  “I did,” Nick put in. “And I think—”

  “Hush, son. I’m talking to Frank and his brother now,” McKenzie cut him off. Then he stabbed a finger toward Smith. “Was this more sabotage?” he asked us.

  “We’re not sure, sir,” Frank said. “It does seem suspicious that Mr. Smith wasn’t able to survive that kind of fall with the pool as a safety feature.”

  McKenzie shrugged. “Nothing suspicious about that. Smith couldn’t swim a stroke. Practically fainted every time he had to cross water to get to this island.” He gave that humorless laugh of his.

  “Well, then I suppose it might just be an unfortunate accident,” Frank said. “We’ll investigate and let you know what we find.”

  “Good.” McKenzie seemed satisfied with that. “Glad to know you’re on the job, Frank.” His gaze wandered briefly toward me. “Er, and you too,” he added. “In any case, I’d better get over to the arcade and do some damage control.” He hurried off without another glance at us—or Smith’s body.

  “What a nice, sympathetic guy,” I said sarcastically as soon as he was out of earshot. Then I realized Nick was still standing there. “Oops,” I added. “Uh, sorry, bro. I just meant—”

  Nick didn’t seem to be listening. “Listen,” he said urgently. “Mr. Smith didn’t just, like, lose his grip or something. This wasn’t just an accident. I saw the whole thing—that handhold came loose!”

  Bad Blood

  “Are you sure?” I asked Nick.

  “Pretty sure.” Nick looked momentarily uncertain. “I mean, I heard him yell, and then he started to fall, and something popped out of the wall and fell right beside him. It was hard to see because the sun was in my eyes, but . . .”

  “Thanks, Nick,” said Joe. “We’ll check it out.”

  “Whatever.” Nick watched as the paramedics loaded Smith’s body onto a gurney. “You might want to mention it to my father, anyway. He’s way more likely to listen if it comes from anyone except me.” He scowled and stalked off.

  Wow. The guy really had some issues with his father. Then again, based on the way McKenzie treated him, maybe he had a right to.

  Joe and I couldn’t exactly go wading into the wave pool to search for that handhold while the paramedics were still there. Not without blowing our cover, anyway. In fact, a couple of the security guards were already giving us suspicious looks.

  “Come on,” I said. “Maybe we should make like radio contest winners for a while. We can come back once these guys clear out.”

  Joe caught on right away. “Let’s go on that,” he suggested, pointing. “Looks like it’ll give us a chance to talk in private. Plus it looks really cool.”

  He was pointing to a ride sticking up over the top of the demolition derby attraction nearby. It was called the Mineshaft, and it was one of those free-fall rides. The difference was that this one started high above the ground but kept dropping you deep under the ground. Then it spun you around upside down for a while. Or something. I hadn’t paid that much attention when we’d passed it earlier.

  “Okay,” I said. It seemed as good a way as any to get some private space to discuss the mission.

  A few minutes later we were strapped into our own private capsule. It was shaped like an actual old-fashioned mine cart. Compared to all the high-tech steel and polymers throughout GX, its wooden seat and sides felt a little rickety. I hoped that was just part of the effect. There were actually four seats in each cart, but luckily, we had our cart to ourselves.

  “I guess this crosses Smith off our suspect list,” I said as the ride creaked into motion, lifting us slowly upward.

  “Yeah. Unless this really was an accident,” Joe pointed out with a wry smile. “If nothing else happens, we’ll know it was him.”

  “Doubtful.” I shook my head. “It also doesn’t seem too likely that McKenzie was behind this either.”

  “Huh? How do you figure? Those two weren’t exactly getting along like best buds from what I could tell. What if Smith was, like, threatening to expose some financial shenanigans or something and McKenzie decided to bump him off?”

  “Doesn’t make sense.” By now our cart had climbed high enough to give us a view of Mount McKenzie and the climbing wall. “How could he possibly know Smith would be the one to hit that bad handhold? You heard those guys—they dared him into it. If they hadn’t, it probably would’ve been one of them who fell.”

  “True,” Joe agreed. “So maybe McKenzie wasn’t after Smith at all. Anyone else would’ve fallen, but also probably would’ve been able to swim. So then we’d have yet another close call. I don’t see how this lets McKenzie off the hook at all.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Unless you just don’t want to think he’s the culprit because he’s your number one fan?”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” I frowned at him. “I just don’t think he has a strong enough motive. He’s getting plenty of free publicity already. Why would he take that kind of risk for a little more?”

  “I don’t know. Element of danger?” Joe shrugged. “I mean, that’s what Skater Hater and the rest are complaining about, right? That GX basically defangs their beloved extreme sports. The fun without the risk. Skate culture you buy at the mall. That kind of thing.”

  Despite his words, I could tell he wasn’t sold on the McKenzie thing anymore. He had a strange look in his eye. I was pretty sure it was thoughtfulness. Yeah. For Joe, that qualifies as a strange look.

  “What?” I asked as the ride continued to rumble upward.

  “I was thinking about something earlier,” he said. “What about Nick?”

  “What about him? You think he could have something to do with this?”

  “Maybe. It’s way obvious that he and his dad aren’t that close.” Joe glanced at me. “What if this is his, you know, cry for attention?”

  “Interesting theory.” We were almost at the top of the ride by now. That gave us a panoramic view of at least half the park, including the main gates. As I glanced that way, something caught my eye. “Hey, check it out,” I said, pointing. “Is that smoke coming from outside?”

  “Where?” Joe asked. “I don’t—AIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

  At that moment the floor dropped out from under us. Or at least that’s how it felt. The ride plunged us down, down, down, so fast I couldn’t breathe for a second.

  “Ahhhhh!” I yelled as we crashed through a ground-level trapdoor into total darkness and fell some more—and then shot suddenly sideways along a wildly twisty shaft with flashing lights and echoing screams bouncing off the walls. I had to admit, it was awe
some!

  Still, by the time we emerged from the ride, we were all business again. “Are you sure you saw smoke outside?” asked Joe.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Not a lot, but it was definitely there.”

  Just then we heard someone calling our names. Nick. He was stripped down to a pair of shorts and some flip-flops, and his hair was wet.

  “I found it!” he called breathlessly, hurrying up to us. “See?”

  He held something up—a blobby piece of plastic about the size of a donut. “What is it?” Joe asked, sounding distracted.

  “The climbing handhold!” Nick said impatiently. “I went in and found it. I told you I saw it fall!”

  My heart sank. This meant one of two things. Either Nick was telling the truth, and he really had found a key piece of evidence, or he’d made up that story for reasons of his own and was now trying to fake said evidence. The trouble was, we really had no way of knowing which. I wished we’d stuck around until the paramedics were gone so we could have searched for that handhold ourselves. But it was too late now.

  “That’s great,” I said to Nick. “Why don’t you go show your dad? Um, we need to check out another lead right now.”

  “Yeah. See you,” Joe added. Then we hurried off.

  I sneaked a peek back over my shoulder. Nick didn’t look happy. “Uh-oh,” I murmured to Joe. “He probably thinks we’re blowing him off just like his dad always does.”

  “Well, we kind of are,” Joe said. “But forget him. Let’s get out to the main gate.”

  When we arrived, we soon realized what was causing the smoke I’d seen. One of the protesters was burning a GX poster. Namely, the old man with the cane we’d seen before. The poster was throwing up a decent amount of black smoke as it sizzled on the pavement. A local cop was standing by, keeping an eye on things but not interfering.

  There weren’t as many protesters as there had been the day before. The hippie couple was gone, along with several others. Most of those who were left were sitting around on the curb drinking coffee and chatting with one another. The only one who still seemed worked up was the old guy burning the poster.