Moments earlier, the ball had been sitting at street level. Underneath, a large metal latch held it to the base platform. The ride’s operator worked controls that turned gears on the tips of the towers, stretching the elastic cords to the max. Then he hit the button, releasing the latch and firing the catapult.
The kids went vertical, zero to 120 miles per hour in under three seconds. They pulled six Gs before the ball reached its apex high above the city and the cords stretched the other way, jerking them back down. The bungees stretched almost to the ground, launching them again, this time slightly less high. Then down again. Up again, tumbling randomly, students shrieking all the way. Down, up, down, each time dissipating energy, now slowly arcing over at the peaks.
In less than two minutes, it was over. The ball sagged motionless thirty feet from the ground, and the operator reversed his controls. The towers let out line, lowering the kids the rest of the way. They climbed from the ball, dizzy and sick. “That ruled!”
The students left through a safety gate and past a sign-THE R OCKET L AUNCH-where Serge waited impatiently, waving cash. “Ooooooh! Me, me, me! I’m next!”
The operator led Serge and Coleman onto the platform and pointed at a pair of plastic bowls. “Empty your pockets and take off anything loose. Sunglasses, hats, that thing on your ear.”
Serge’s wallet, cell phone and keys went in one bowl. Coleman filled the other with a bottle cap, M &Ms and twigs.
The operator looked at Serge’s left hand. “You can’t take the camcorder.”
“It’s all right,” said Serge. “I’m filming the most shocking documentary ever made.”
“No, I mean there’s no way you’ll be able to hang on to it. You’re going to snap pretty hard the first way up.”
“But I’m recapturing state pride.”
The operator pointed at the restraint bar. “We got a tiny camera mounted toward the seats. You can buy a souvenir DVD afterward if you want.”
“What a deal!”
The pair climbed into the ball, and the operator strapped them in. Then he left the platform, positioning himself behind the control panel. Gears stretched cords again.
Serge grabbed handles on the front of the massive, padded harness pressed against his chest. “Coleman, what an excellent idea! I’ve seen these all over Florida-here, Kissimmee, Daytona Beach-but I was always in too much of a rush.”
“Knew you couldn’t resist.” Coleman wiggled against the restraint to reach a hip pocket. “Always talking about going into space.”
“This is like the Gemini missions. They were the best! Capsules held two astronauts, just like us.” Serge bobbed enthusiastically in his seat and stared at the heavens. “Also, Gemini was the fastest manned flights off the pad, using converted Titan intercontinental ballistic missiles. Until the ride’s over, call me Wally Schirra.” He turned his head sideways toward the unseen operator. “Can you give us a countdown?”
“You want a countdown?”
“And call me Wally.”
“Wally?”
“Thanks. Means the world.”
“Whatever…”
Elastic cords finished stretching.
“Ten… nine…”
Coleman finally achieved success with his hip pocket.
“Coleman!” said Serge. “You were supposed to put everything in the plastic bowl!”
“… six… five…”
“There’s no way he was getting my flask. Plus I wanted a swig for the ride.” He unscrewed the top.
Serge faced forward and gripped the handles harder. “Houston, we have a problem.”
“… two… one… liftoff!”
The latch released.
The pair went screaming into the sky.
In mere seconds they reached the top, hundreds of feet above the strip. Then a hard yank from the cords.
“My flask!” Coleman watched it quickly sail high into the blue yonder until it disappeared.
The guys bounced up and down for another ninety seconds, until the operator reeled them in.
The harnesses unlocked. Serge jumped from the ball and snatched his wallet from a plastic bowl. “I absolutely must have the DVD.”
NEW HAMPSHIRE
Agents rushed into the office of the student paper. A morgue. One lone kid in sweats, staying behind to wrap up a three-part series on the education budget.
A badge. “Seen Andy McKenna?”
The student shrugged.
“Know where he might be?”
“Try the dorm?”
Agents ran into the cafeteria. Only two students, both female. Then rounds of all the popular study areas and TV lounges, giving themselves a full self-guided tour of the evacuated campus.
“Let’s check the dorm again.”
They met the agent they’d left behind in the room in case the sophomore returned.
“I take it he hasn’t come back.”
“You mean you didn’t find him?”
“Great.”
“Sir…” The agent gestured at the trashed interior. Papers, CDs, candy wrappers everywhere. Underwear and pizza boxes on the floor. “Looks like someone ransacked.”
“It’s a college student’s room,” said Oswalt. “They all look like this. Mine was worse.”
“I got a weird feeling something’s not kosher.”
“How’s that?”
“Can’t quite put my finger on it. The room just seems light, like stuff’s missing.”
“Anything more specific?”
“Not really.”
Another agent: “Maybe ring his cell again?”
Oswalt flipped open his phone, hit buttons and placed it to his ear. A faint, muffled musical tone came from somewhere in the room.
The agents listened and walked silently, trying to home in on the source. Four of them ended up in a circle, staring at the floor. One reached down and lifted a pizza box. The tone got louder.
“At least we found his phone.”
“I’m not laughing,” said Oswalt. “Let’s go…”
They stepped into the hall. A solitary student walked by with a watering can and containers of fish and bird food.
“Excuse me.” The badge again. “What’s your name?”
“Jason Lavine.”
“You know Andy McKenna?”
He nodded.
“Know where he is?”
He shook his head.
“Any chance he left campus?”
“No… Definitely not.”
“How are you so positive?”
The student pointed into the room with a canister of pellets. “He’s got an aquarium.”
“So?”
“I make a fortune staying behind during spring break, feeding pets. And watering plants-but those are just the girls’ rooms.”
“How does that mean he couldn’t have left?”
The student looked through the open door at guppies. “He didn’t pay me.”
Oswalt sighed.
“Can I go now?”
The agent answered with an offhand wave.
The team trotted down the dorm’s front steps again.
Snowing harder.
Oswalt put his hands in his pockets and stared across the barren commons. “Where can he be?”
MEANWHILE…
Johnny Vegas accelerated his pace up the sidewalk toward his hotel.
“In some kind of a rush?” joked Carrie, clutching his arm harder. A couple of times she reached back and squeezed his ass. He attributed it to the fact she was already halfway in the bag. His kind of girl.
They reached the edge of a parking lot. “Here we are!”
Carrie got on her tiptoes and whispered something in his ear.
Johnny coughed and pounded his chest. “Holy God!” he thought. “She wants to do that” He closed his eyes and mentally pumped a fist in the air: “Yes! I’ve finally done it! Nothing can go wrong now!”
He opened his eyes and began leading her toward the lobby doors.
Suddenly, Johnny felt his arm released. He looked left.
No Carrie.
He looked down. There she was. Lying unconscious on the pavement with a nasty forehead gash. Next to a dented flask.