It wasn’t until he heard his mother’s voice that he mentally snapped back into the dim room, with its striped carpet and air that smelled of fresh sheets and disinfectant. Morgan seemed startled as well, nearly knocking the laptop onto the floor.
“Morgan! What are you doing with my laptop?”
“I—I’m showing Jack some totally crackin’ graphics,” Morgan answered. “I just hooked it up, and here we are. Your man Jack seems to like it.”
That was true. Jack had never before seen anything like the dazzling display before him, but he sensed that now was not the time to admit this to his mother.
“What has he been playing?” The question was directed at Jack. Sensing no way out except to lie, which he wasn’t about to do, he muttered, “Splatterfest II.”
“Splatterfest II.” Olivia nodded, her mouth set hard. “Jack, you know how I feel about these kinds of games.”
“Yeah, but the thing is Morgan and his friend Dragon were already really far in this one, and Morgan wanted to show me—”
Waving her hand to silence him, she said coldly, “Morgan, would you please unhook my laptop and get it back into my room? Just to be perfectly clear, I don’t want you exposing my kids to games like that.”
“You afraid of a few pixels, Mrs. Landon?” Even though Morgan’s voice stayed calm, it had a challenge to it.
Olivia answered slowly, spacing every word. “I despise the way they turn violence and death into entertainment. I’ve read that some gamers begin to act out the violence in real life.”
“Is that a fact?” Morgan answered, leaning back into his seat and cocking his head. “Death, in and of itself, can be pretty interesting, don’t you think, Mrs. Landon? People have always been fascinated by the macabre, and so am I. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to kill somebody. At least,” he said, smiling slowly, “not yet.”
That’s when Jack heard the shift in his mother’s voice. It became as detached and arid as a dried leaf floating on the wind. “An interesting point of view, Morgan.
I’d love to discuss it, but right now I’m on my way to park headquarters. The rest of you get dressed and go to the cafeteria for breakfast. I’ll meet you there in an hour. And Jack, I intend to speak to you later.”
“This cafeteria’s like the United Nations,” Jack said as he picked up a plastic tray and slid it along the metal rails. “Listen to all those different languages. People must come here from all over the world.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.” Morgan eyed a giggling group of Japanese girls ahead of him in the line. “Man, do I wish I could speak Japanese.”
“Sure, Morgan,” Jack joked. “And I know what you’d talk to them about—Pokémon, Japanimation, and Quake Three.”
“I have a few other topics of conversation,” he replied, smoothing the wrinkles out of his T-shirt. “Watch and learn.”
The girls, who looked as though they were in their mid-teens, seemed to be subtly checking out Morgan and Jack. Olivia, Steven, and Ashley were in a separate breakfast line, one that featured more healthy food. Since Jack had already been through the healthy line, he just followed Morgan as he piled his plate with waffles and pancakes, first smothering the top with whipped butter followed by an oozing layer of syrup. Very quickly the girls dismissed Jack as too young, but one of them smiled at Morgan. “How you doing?” he asked, thrusting out his chin and then raising his hand in a friendly gesture that knocked a glass of orange juice all over his tray.
The Japanese girls were really giggling now, but softly, as though they didn’t want to embarrass Morgan even more. “Smooth, Morgan,” Jack snickered.
“Yeah, well.” Pushing his dark hair from his forehead, he muttered, “Relationships with women are highly overrated.”
“As if you would know,” Ashley quipped, joining them from behind. Sliding her tray behind Jack’s, she grabbed a chocolate milk and placed it next to her cereal bowl, watching with interest as the Japanese girls slid their trays up to the cashier and paid, speaking in halting English. Since there was a group of them, Jack figured it would take a while.
Morgan gave Ashley a withering look. “It just so happens I do know. It may surprise you to find out that I was voted Homecoming King in my high school.”
“Sure you were.” She rolled her eyes at Jack.
“It’s true. Of course, I hacked into the school’s computer and rigged the results. But I officially won.”
“You went to the dance as Homecoming King?” Jack asked. He couldn’t believe what Morgan was saying.
“No, actually I stayed home and missed all the excitement. Heard about it, though.” He took a step closer to the register. “My one regret is that I didn’t see Queenie’s face when the big moment came. I guess she curled up when my name was read out—she thought she’d actually have to dance with me. When they finally figured I was a no-show, some Neanderthal got crowned as king instead. Yeah,” he said, nodding smugly, “that was one of my better hacker stings.”
“You ruined Homecoming?”
Shrugging, Morgan said, “I added a bit of color to the proceedings.”
“No. You broke into a computer and changed the results so the Homecoming Queen got to stand there, all by herself, while you stayed at home and laughed at her. How could you be so mean?” Ashley asked fiercely. The Japanese girls were gone now, but Ashley didn’t move and neither did Morgan. “I bet she spent a ton of money on her dress, getting her hair done and makeup, and then you just messed it up!”
“I believe in payback,” he said, his voice suddenly low. “She was vicious to me, and she got what she deserved. Those who don’t want retribution better stay out of my way.”
“So you always have to win, right?”
“Yeah,” Morgan replied. “Always.”
The two of them stood toe to toe, Ashley’s eyes burning into Morgan’s cool ones while the line of customers behind them swelled to four-deep. Why couldn’t they get along, even for five minutes? Jack thought wearily. The lady running the cash register waved them forward.
“Come on, guys, you’re holding things up.” Jack tried to nudge his sister toward the cash register.
“Jack, what he did—”
“I know, but it’s over, and it’s not worth fighting about, especially not here.”
“Why are you always on Morgan’s side?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes you are. Don’t you see what he’s doing?”
“What am I doing, Ashley?” Morgan loomed over her, his pale face expressionless. “Why don’t you tell me?”
A customer, a small, mousy-looking man with a dingy mustache scurried by, while a woman with skin as dark as coffee murmured, “Excuse me,” and pushed around them.
“Just forget it,” Ashley said finally. “I’m done.” Without another word she shoved her tray toward the register, but at the last minute she turned and said, “I know what you are, Morgan. You can play your game with my dad and Jack, but you don’t fool my mom. And you don’t fool me.”
Smiling slowly, Morgan said, “Then let the games begin.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Back stiff as a board, Ashley made her way around the tables to where her parents sat, while Jack paid for his and Morgan’s breakfast. As Morgan followed Jack through the clutter of chairs and chatting tourists, both of them held their trays high to avoid knocking anyone on the head.
“You know, your sister is extremely touchy,” Morgan told Jack.
“Nah, Ashley’s cool.”
“Then why do I get the same feeling from her that I did from the kids in Dry Creek, namely that everything I say is wrong? I don’t understand the reason my words always land me in a pile knee-deep. Hold on a second.” He stopped between two tables, resting his tray on a bony hip. “What she said back there—is it true? Are you on my side?”
Jack thought he knew what Morgan was asking, but this didn’t seem the place to go into it. The cafeteria was crowded and noisy, his food was getting cold, and anyway, how wa
s he supposed to answer a question like that? Even if he’d known how, he didn’t want to. “Let’s go,” was all he said.
Steven and Olivia had settled in next to a group of older women who seemed in good spirits for so early in the morning, laughing and chattering between swigs of coffee. At 8:30 a.m., the cafeteria’s noise level kept escalating with the sound of rattling silverware, sputtering coffee urns, ringing cash registers and banging trays. Above the mechanical clatter, tourists of many colors and styles of dress called out to each other in half a dozen different languages.
“We saved you a place,” Steven called out, patting the Formica tabletop. After they had settled into their seats, Jack took his yogurt, banana, and scrambled eggs off his plastic tray and placed them symmetrically on the table, banana pointing north, yogurt positioned at ten o’clock next to the plate. Morgan, who hadn’t bothered to remove his plate from the tray, was already digging into his stack of pancakes drowned with syrup. For a skinny kid, he sure could put away the pancakes.
Olivia sipped her coffee, then gave him a forced smile. “Morgan, I woke up last night thinking about something you said earlier. It was about the pellets and the shotguns. How do you know so much about this?”
“I told you, my friend, Snipe. He’s the one who introduced me to Splatterfest II,” Morgan answered around a mouthful of pancake. “That game is serious eye candy, with the most fluid graphics in the world of CGI. It’s been around for a while, but in this new version the texture quality is better, the frame rate has been upped, and the integration between real-time polygons and CGI is awesome. I admit, you could maybe say the designers programmed elements from the entire RPG genre, but it still has plenty of new stuff, too.”
Jack hadn’t a clue what all that meant, but he didn’t want to seem stupid in front of Morgan. “RPG?” he asked hesitantly. “Red, purple, green? I thought—uh—aren’t images made from RGB? Red, green, blue?”
Morgan stopped chewing to give Jack a pitying look. “RPG means ‘role-playing game.’”
“I knew that,” Jack said quickly.
Olivia carefully set down her mug. “Back to my shotgun question; did you learn about pellets from this Splatterfest game?”
“Nah. Splatterfest’s all high-tech weaponry. I guess I learned the low-tech stuff from following the Predator Hunt. Snipe’s into that real big.”
“Predator Hunt?”
“You haven’t heard of it? I thought you were an animal guru. The hunt is like Splatterfest, only the targets are real critters. Too grim for me, but Snipe’s a follower.”
Olivia took a breath and released it between her teeth. “Morgan, I have a favor to ask,” she said. “I need you to contact your friend Spike.”
“Snipe,” Morgan answered.
“Right. Snipe. Could you reach Snipe for me? I’m trying to unravel the pellet mystery, specifically how they’re used in shotgun shells, but none of the park people hunt. Would Snipe discuss it, do you think?”
“If I tell him to.” Morgan dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “What would be even better is getting you right on the hunt Web site. Snipe showed it to me. Start there.”
“Thank you, Morgan.”
“Not a problem. I’d like to point out that no matter what people say, everyone eventually comes to the geeks. We rule.”
Back at the motel, it took Morgan only a moment to tap into the Predator Hunt Web site, while Steven, Ashley, Olivia and Jack crowded around to watch.
“Here it is,” Morgan announced, triumphant. The blue screen announced, in big, bold letters,
ANNUAL VARMINT HUNT.
CASH-FOR-CARCASSES CONTEST.
KILL A BUNCH OF PREDATORS AND HELP WILDLIFE.
FIRST PRIZE $50,000.
Beneath these words were pictures of a fox, a coyote, a bobcat, and a mountain lion.
Next to the pictures of the animals was a list of points: 100 for killing a mountain lion; 50 for a bobcat; 25 for a coyote; and 10 for a fox. Printed instructions said hunters were supposed to shoot as many of these creatures as they could within a 24-hour period, then bring the dead animals to a checkpoint, where the bodies could be counted. The hunters’ scores would be verified, with prizes awarded to those with the highest scores.
“I can’t believe this,” Olivia cried, turning bright red with anger. “This is not hunting—it’s murder! What kind of friends do you have, Morgan?”
“Take it easy,” Steven told her.
“You say Snipe participates in this free-for-all?”
“Yeah. The contest is legal. Any hunter with a license can take part. He’s got a license. He says they do it all over the country.” Morgan shifted uneasily. He was not enjoying this conversation.
“A license to pile up carcasses for a reward? Hunting laws were created with the idea that when you kill game, you use the meat. This—this is—body-count killing. It’s slaughter, not hunting,” Olivia declared. “Unethical in the extreme.”
“Snipe sees it differently. And I don’t want you talking to him if you’re going to go ballistic about the hunt,” Morgan insisted.
“That’s the point. This isn’t a hunt—” Olivia sputtered to a stop and then began again, “Take a look at the pictures on this screen.” She tapped her index finger on each face as she spoke. “A fox. A bobcat. A mountain lion, for heaven’s sake. Whoever made the decision that these were varmints? The word ‘varmints’ is supposed to mean ‘useless predators.’”
“This is so gross,” Ashley said, glaring at Morgan.
“Hey everybody, let’s take it down a notch,” Steven broke in. “Morgan isn’t the one participating in the hunt. He’s trying to help us get information. We’ll get to Snipe’s Web site and see what we can learn about the guns. Morgan, do you have his Web address?”
“Yeah, sure. It’ll just take a second to bring it up,” Morgan said, looking relieved to have an excuse to get away from the Predator Hunt page. After he punched in a string of numbers and letters, a jagged mountain peak appeared, followed by an animated hunter with a spitting automatic gun. It hit a target that blew apart into a thousand blood-red pieces.
“Snipe’s always been into cool graphics,” Morgan said sheepishly. “I have to warn you, he talks a lot about the government and conspiracies, but that’s just his politics. He’s good at gaming.”
“Yes, he seems to have a lot of opinions about a lot of things,” Steven agreed, inspecting the screen.
“When are you going to write your question about the pellets?” Jack asked, pressing to get a better look. Beneath bold headlines Snipe had written blocks of text, but Jack couldn’t get close enough to read it. Steven’s and Olivia’s heads were in the way.
“This is quite a Web site,” Steven murmured. “He talks about the predator hunt here, and there’s a list of preferred guns…then all kinds of….” Steven’s voice trailed off. Blue backlight turned his skin gray as he scrolled through graphics and other blocks of text, moving from one line to the next.
“Do you see that?” Olivia’s face suddenly hardened. She looked at Steven, whose own jaw had set. “Are you reading what I’m reading?”
Nodding tersely, Steven answered, “I see it.”
“See what?” Jack asked, trying to get a look. Whatever it was, his parents hid it as they moved closer together. Olivia looked as though an ice storm was raging behind her eyes, Morgan kept rubbing his chin with the tips of his fingers, and Ashley had turned deathly quiet.
“Jack, I’d like you and Ashley to go into the other room,” Olivia ordered. “Right now. Morgan, stay here.”
“What’d I do?”
“I think you know,” Steven answered.
“Can’t I stay and—” Jack began, but when he saw his mother’s face, his voice dried up in his throat. “Come on, Ashley,” he said quickly, retreating through the door.
The moment the door shut a flood of muffled words erupted from the other side. Jack couldn’t understand them, but he didn’t have to. His mother
was angrier than she had ever been with Morgan, that much was certain. His father, who had usually been so quick to defend, now accused him, his deep voice rising and falling between Olivia’s staccato outbursts.
“What the heck is going on?” Jack whispered to Ashley, not so much to keep from being overheard but to keep from missing any possible bit of conversation he might decipher from the next room.
“I don’t know for sure. I just—I saw my name.”
Jack felt his heart pump faster. “Where?”
“On that Web site. I’m pretty sure that Snipe guy wrote something bad about me. It was under a headline that said, ‘Government Injustice.’”
“That can’t be right—Snipe doesn’t even know you.”
“Morgan does. I think he sent one of those flame things to Snipe, and Snipe posted it.”
“Morgan wouldn’t do that! When could he have—no way, Ashley!” Jack shook his head hard, more for himself than for his sister. He pressed his ear against the door, but the sound was still too muffled for him to make out individual words. Ashley stomped over to him, her hands on her hips and her head high.
“Of course Morgan would never dream of doing the same thing to me that he did to everyone in Dry Creek! You always think the best of him.”
“No, you always think the worst of him! Look, he’s weird, but he wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Wanna bet? I’ll crack open the door, and then we’ll find out if I’m right.”
“You mean eavesdrop?”
“Duh! Don’t you want to know the real story and not some lie Morgan tells you? You do what you want. I’m listening.”
With that, Ashley put her hand on the knob and turned it so slowly it was barely perceptible. She opened the door cautiously, creating a space less than an inch wide. It made all the difference, like turning up the volume on the television. Jack could suddenly understand every word spoken in the next room.
Over the Edge Page 4
