Warehouse Rumble Page 8

  “We can make a human chain,” Joe said. “We can pull her up.”

  Reluctantly, Jay pried one arm loose and grabbed Frank’s hand.

  “Don’t let go,” Frank cautioned.

  “Don’t you let go,” Jay shot back, his voice shaking.

  Joe grabbed on to Frank’s other hand, and the two of them edged toward Missy. They flattened themselves on the catwalk as much as they could, hoping that spreading out their weight might slow the bridge’s collapse.

  He stretched his hand as far as he could, but Joe still couldn’t reach Missy.

  “Don’t let me die!” she cried.

  “We won’t,” Joe said, trying to sound more sure of himself than he felt. He twisted around and extended his legs toward her. The extra length brought his feet well within her reach. “Grab hold and climb up!”

  What remained of the bridge shook as Missy edged forward and grasped Joe’s shoe and then his pant leg.

  “Hurry up!” Jay called. He was sweating almost as much as Missy; his eyes darted around frantically. “This isn’t gonna hold much longer!”

  “I’m trying!” Missy shrieked back. She had climbed far enough now that Joe could reach down and grab her hand. He pulled her upward, and she scampered over the brothers and past Jay. As she did, she knocked the Hardys’ cell phone from Frank’s back pocket. It tumbled down, smashed on a metal strut, and splashed into the mock-toxic water.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!” Jay shouted as the brothers pulled themselves back up. He almost seemed ready to drop them, but Frank clung tightly to his hand.

  As soon as Frank and Joe reached him, Jay turned, scrambled across the bridge, and headed down the nearby stairway. The catwalk shook as he went, swaying to either side. Frank and Joe nearly toppled off. Both got a good look at the bubbling green water in the pool below them.

  “Anybody up for a high dive?” Joe asked.

  “And join our cell phone?” Frank replied. “No thanks.”

  The bridge creaked, shuddered, and lurched down another few feet, making the angle of their climb even steeper. A camerawoman suddenly appeared at the far end of the span and tossed a rope down to them.

  Frank and Joe grabbed it and quickly ascended. “Thanks,” they both said as they left the bridge behind.

  “We’re not down yet,” the woman replied. She turned and descended the stairs as quickly as possible, the brothers close on her heels. As they all reached the ground floor, the bridge gave a final groan, and the part the Hardys had been climbing on only moments before crashed into the pool. Yellow-green water sprayed high into the air.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Ms. Kendall called as she dashed onto the set.

  “Something’s wrong with my arm,” Missy said. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked like she was in considerable pain.

  Ms. Kendall motioned to a paramedic who had followed her into the room. Apparently, after the recent trouble, the production now felt it wise to have medical personnel on the set at all times.

  “She probably shouldn’t stay in the game,” the medic said after examining Missy for a few minutes.

  “We ought to sue you!” Jay said.

  “We’ll see she’s taken care of,” Ms. Kendall replied. Seeing that this didn’t calm Jay any, she added, “And we’ll make sure you can continue in the game if you want to.”

  “You bet I’ll continue!” Jay said. He glared at Joe and Frank. “You Hardys attract trouble like a magnet.” He and the medic took Missy away from the game set so she could get further treatment.

  “Don’t say thanks for saving her life,” Joe muttered.

  Ms. Kendall looked up at the damaged section of catwalk. It angled down into the pool like an immense, metal-mesh slide. She frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said. “We ran the same exact event across that same section of bridge yesterday. There were no indications of any problems then.”

  “Maybe the connecting bolts wore out over the course of the game,” Joe suggested.

  “Metal fatigue makes sense,” Frank said. “This whole place is pretty rusty.” Something in the elder Hardy’s brown eyes told Joe that Frank didn’t believe the theory he was espousing.

  Joe nodded, though. “Yeah. Metal fatigue.” They could discuss the other possibilities later.

  Just then, Ward Willingham burst onto the set. “Not more trouble!” he moaned.

  Ms. Kendall didn’t say anything. She just pointed to the broken catwalk.

  Willingham took off his dark glasses and slapped his head. “Two broken game sets?” he said. “How long will it take to clean this up?”

  “I don’t know if we can clean . . . ,” Ms. Kendall began—but when she saw Stacia Allen and her cameraman lurking nearby, she suddenly stopped talking.

  Willingham followed Ms. Kendall’s gaze and spotted Ms. Allen as well. He stormed in her direction, shaking his fist. “You’ve got a lot of gall prowling around here after the stunt you pulled on your broadcast last night.”

  Ms. Allen tried to look innocent but didn’t do a very good job. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I’ve been abiding by our agreement.”

  “Maybe by the words,” Willingham growled, “but not the spirit. I didn’t authorize you to film that ring. And I certainly didn’t authorize you running pictures of it on your show.”

  “That ring wasn’t part of the game prizes,” Ms. Allen replied. “It was news. So I was within my rights to run a story about it.”

  “Are they talking about the ring Daphne found?” Joe whispered to Frank. Frank shrugged.

  “How did you know it wasn’t part of the game treasure?” Willingham asked. “You never asked any of my people about it.”

  “I have my sources,” Ms. Allen said smugly.

  “You knew I was saving that discovery for a surprise in my own broadcast,” Willingham said. “I want you out of here, now!”

  “Maybe my lawyers should call your lawyers,” Ms. Allen replied.

  Julie Kendall stepped in front of the Hardys, blocking their view of the ongoing argument. “Well,” she said, “I certainly don’t think you boys need to hang around here just to listen to Ms. Allen and Mr. Willingham. Why don’t you head to the refreshment area? I’ll make sure someone comes and talks to you about your next event.”

  The brothers left. When they got to the break area they found Chet and Daphne already there.

  “Waiting for your next event?” Frank asked.

  “Nah,” Chet replied. “We aced ours. We’re on to our next round. How about you guys?”

  “Cancelled again,” Joe said, “on account of sabotage.” He and Frank quickly explained what had happened, and the argument between Willingham and Stacia Allen that had ensued.

  “Where did that news vulture get pictures of my ring?” Daphne asked, clearly annoyed.

  Chet shrugged. “She’s had plenty of opportunities since you found it. And she’s pretty clever.”

  “That and a good zoom lens will get you almost anything,” Joe added.

  “Anything except scruples,” Frank noted. “I suppose it’s possible her crew might have planted the ring in the first place, just to stir things up.”

  “Or maybe it was lost by whoever’s causing all this trouble on the set,” Joe suggested. “I don’t believe that metal fatigue caused that catwalk to break any more than you do.”

  “Sabotage seems more likely,” Frank admitted. “I’m sure the crew checked the whole walkway for safety before they started running events on it. It’s unlikely they’d miss something that would cause the bridge to collapse.”

  “Well, the problem didn’t cause much of a stir in the rest of the sets,” Daphne said. “We didn’t even hear about it.”

  “The show must go on,” said Chet.

  “Not for us, it won’t,” Frank said. “Not unless we actually get to finish some of our contests.”

  “They can’t cut you from the rumble because of bad luck,” Daphne said. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

&
nbsp; “Hey, we’re talking about television here,” Joe said. “Fair doesn’t enter into it.”

  “I’m sure they’re getting some great footage out of your events,” Chet said.

  Joe arched one eyebrow. “Maybe good enough footage to inspire sabotage?”

  “Could be,” Frank replied. “That’s a mighty risky strategy, though. Getting caught would be a sure way to get sued.”

  A few minutes later Ms. Kendall showed up and took the Hardys to another alternate event. It was a relay race across the broken pylons on one of the old docks behind the warehouse. The Hardys darted easily across the concrete platforms; their competitors, though, ended up falling into the bay. After helping fish out the losers, the brothers headed for lunch in the break area.

  In order to keep film rolling, Willingham had brought in catered food. This allowed him to pick up the pace on events and make up for lost time. Chet and Daphne must have eaten already and moved on to their next event, because the Hardys didn’t see their friends in the area.

  The mood of the contestants who were having lunch, though, was tense. Many fidgeted nervously as they ate. The Hardys spotted Jay and Missy standing at the back of the line that wound toward the food table. Missy’s heavily bandaged left arm was in a sling. The two of them scowled at the brothers as the Hardys joined the end of the line.

  Just as they lined up, someone bumped into Joe from behind. “Hey! Watch it!” said a gruff voice.

  Joe spun and found himself nose-to-nose with Todd Sabatine. The big teen’s ankle was still wrapped in an Ace bandage, and he was using a cane to help himself get around. Lily came to her brother’s side as Todd glared at Joe.

  “Sorry,” Joe said. “I didn’t see you.”

  “You should be more careful,” Lily chided. “My brother’s not very mobile.” Her new partner, Bo, kept an eye on all of them from a table nearby.

  “I said I was sorry,” Joe repeated, fighting down a twinge of anger.

  Jay, who was directly in front of Joe, nudged the younger Hardy. “Yeah, Hardy,” Jay said, “watch it!”

  Joe was about to say something when Jay suddenly pointed at the floor. “What’s that?!” he asked in a very loud voice.

  Everyone in the area turned and looked. On the floor, near Todd’s feet, was an orange prescription bottle.

  Joe stooped down, picked it up, and read the label. “It’s Mr. Willingham’s missing sleeping pills,” he announced. He held the bottle out toward the Sabatines. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “You’re not going to pin this on us!” Todd said. “You probably planted it there!”

  Without warning, Todd lunged at Joe.

  12 Tossed Out

  * * *

  Todd’s sudden tackle caught the Hardys completely off guard. Before Frank could react, Joe and Todd crashed to the floor.

  The two of them rolled around on the old wooden planking for a few moments, each trying to get the advantage on the other. Joe had quite a bit of wrestling experience, but Todd was bigger and heavier than the younger Hardy. As Todd attempted to put Joe into an armlock, Frank grabbed Todd’s shirt and tried to pull him away.

  Most of the other people in the area stood and watched, a mixture of surprise and anxiety on their faces. Missy and Jay cheered the fight on.

  Several members of the staff stepped in to help just as Frank wrestled Todd off of Joe. Working together, they managed to separate the two teens.

  “What in the world is going on here?” boomed Ward Willingham.

  “We found your prescription, Mr. Willingham,” Joe said angrily, “lying on the floor next to him!” He pointed accusingly at Todd.

  “It’s a setup!” Todd shot back. “Those two have been near the scene of every accident on this set. They’re the ones behind all this trouble!”

  “That’s a lie,” Frank said.

  “Now look,” Willingham said, raising his voice even more, “things have been tense on the set and we’ve had some problems, but anyone who wants to stay in the competition must stay focused.” As he turned toward Todd he found Stacia Allen and her cameraman in the way. He scowled and stepped around them.

  “Mr. Sabatine, I’m sympathetic to your wanting to cheer your sister on,” Willingham said. “However, I think it’s best if we close the competition to spectators at this point.”

  “But that’s not fair!” Lily protested.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s my decision.” Willingham looked at Missy. “Sorry, Ms. Gates. The policy applies to you, too.”

  Missy stopped picking her teeth with her one good hand and sneered at him. “Typical,” she said. She stood and headed for the door.

  Jay went with her. “You haven’t heard the last of this,” he called. “I’ll be back!”

  Willingham let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead.

  Stacia Allen stepped up and thrust her microphone in his face. “How does this latest setback make you feel?” she asked.

  “It makes me feel,” Willingham said slowly, “like I’ve had more than enough of your intrusions.” He signaled to a couple of security guards standing nearby. “Take Ms. Allen and her crew out of here.”

  The guards stepped forward and began escorting the WSDS team from the building. “You can’t throw me out!” Ms. Allen called back over her shoulder. “We have free press in this country! We—” The slam of the warehouse door cut off the rest of her words.

  Willingham smiled slightly. “Right now,” he said wryly, “we have freedom from the press. At least on my set.” He turned back to the rest of the assembled cast and crew.

  “Now, if we can avoid any more outbreaks of . . . enthusiasm,” he said, glancing warningly at the Hardys, “maybe we can get back to work. Please finish up your lunches and then move on to your next assignments. I want to thank you again for sticking with us through all of the tough spots.” He turned and went off to discuss something with Ms. Kendall.

  Lily glared at the Hardys, then escorted her brother to the door. Willingham’s security guards kept their distance but watched carefully as Todd left. Missy followed him out.

  “Do you think Todd dropped those pills?” Frank asked.

  “He was right next to them,” Joe said. “But Jay was pretty close too. Maybe they fell out of Todd’s pocket, or maybe Jay planted them, or maybe someone was trying to use sleeping pills to knock out the competition again.”

  “Todd’s not in the game, though,” Frank said. “So if someone dropped those pills on purpose, the target had to be either Jay, Bo—he was pretty close by too—or us.”

  “We don’t have a lot of friends on this set,” Joe admitted, “aside from Daphne and Chet. Taking us out would make things easier for some of the other players.”

  Frank nodded. “And there have been a lot of accidents during events we’ve been at. Even Todd noticed that.”

  “Let’s not get too paranoid,” Joe said. “Scuttling this whole show seems a better motive for the trouble than removing a few contestants.”

  “That depends on the prize, I suppose,” Frank responded. “Of course, only Willingham and his staff know what the final treasure is. All we’ve seen so far is some golden keys.”

  “Yeah,” said Joe. “And we know that Daphne’s ring wasn’t a part of whatever Willingham has stashed.”

  “So Todd, Bo, or Jay could have been setting us up, or any one of them could have been setting up any one of the others,” Frank concluded.

  “Or it could be someone we’re not even considering,” Joe added. “In any case, I doubt that the prescription has just been lying on the floor for the last day, waiting for someone to find it.”

  Frank laughed. “Yeah. I think we can rule that out.”

  The competitions continued after lunch. The number of contestants in Warehouse Rumble was shrinking, due to elimination during the game and some contestants choosing to drop out because of the continuing accidents. As semifinals drew near, the competition became even more fierce.

  The new a
lliance of Lily and Bo only grew stronger. Amazingly, Jay—playing solo—squeaked through his afternoon challenge. Chet and Daphne also survived—though barely.

  “Chet fell in the water, but I managed to cross the finish line before anyone from the other team did,” Daphne confided to Frank and Joe.

  Chet smiled sheepishly and toweled the water from his hair. “Hey, I said I had catlike reflexes—not catlike balance.”

  The Hardys’ afternoon challenge involved retrieving clues from a course using remote-control cars and then using them to solve a puzzle. The bodies of the cars had been modified so that each resembled a giant insect. The effect was fairly comical, though the brothers admitted that it might look good on TV.

  “If this show doesn’t become a hit as is, maybe they can spin it off as Battle Bugs or something,” Joe joked between rounds as technicians serviced the bug-cars.

  “‘The mutant mania of the future that everyone with three eyes is talking about,’” suggested Chet. He and Daphne had come to watch the Hardys’ event, since their own had already finished. “‘Go buggy or bug off!’”

  “You could have been an ad writer, Chet,” Frank said.

  “I may be,” Chet replied. “After Daphne and I win this competition, of course.”

  “Of course,” Daphne said with a smile.

  “Unless we beat you to it,” Joe said.

  “Of course,” added Frank.

  Once the technicians had finished preparing the remote-controlled mutants, he and Joe returned to the contest. They managed to squeak out a win, though their opponents nearly completed the puzzle first. Fortunately the Hardys’ competitors misread a critical clue, and the brothers surged ahead of them at the last minute.

  As Frank, Joe, and their friends headed to check on their next challenges, they heard one of the technicians say, “Great TV.”

  “Yeah,” Chet said. “You guys did good.”

  Frank nodded wearily. “I’m beginning to feel it, though.”

  “With the obstacles we’ve had,” Joe said, “I feel like we’ve done twice the number of games as everyone else.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.