Countdown to Danger: Shockwave

by Jack Heath

  “No!” you yell. “He knew about the bomb! He risked all of our lives!”

  But Pigeon keeps running towards Harrison.

  “What are you talking about?” Neil demands.

  “Pigeon!” you scream. But it’s too late. The fire swarms in, trapping Pigeon. She vanishes into the glare.

  The flames lick closer to the railing. Soon you’ll be roasted.

  “Climb down!” you shout.

  You, Shelley and Neil all scramble down the cliffs. It’s hard to spot the handholds in the dying light. The wooden railing is already smouldering.

  At one point you reach down for a foothold that isn’t there.

  “Argh!” You slip, and fall …

  But only half a metre. You catch an outcrop of stone in one hand and dangle there like a flag on a still day.

  “You OK?” Neil yells.

  You grab the outcrop with your other hand and haul yourself up. “We need to find another way down.”

  A rumbling sound is building. At first you think it’s the fire, but then you realize it’s something worse.

  You turn to see that the ocean has receded — and now it’s coming back. A massive wave is growing on the horizon, hurtling faster and faster towards the shore.

  The explosion has triggered a tsunami. A million megalitres of water are about to smash the three of you against the cliffs.

  “Go back up!” you scream. “Quick!”

  The others scramble back up the rock face. But going up is harder than going down. You’re falling behind.

  You risk a glance over your shoulder and realize that the wave is almost upon you.

  “Noooo!” you scream, as the black water rises up to claim you—

  Your head hits the stone and the world vanishes.

  THE END.

  Click here to go back and try again!

  03:51

  Wondering if you’re totally crazy, you tie a loose knot in the rope and run towards the rampaging crocodile.

  The monster slows down, confused. Before it has time to wonder why its prey isn’t fleeing in terror, you wrap the loop of rope around its snout and cinch the knot tight.

  The crocodile hisses, sounding like a busted truck tire as it fights to break the restraints. But it can’t. The rope is strong, and the croc is surprisingly weak. The muscles that shut the croc’s jaws must be much more powerful than the muscles that open them. As long as this rope is wrapped around the creature’s giant head, it can’t bite you.

  The croc swipes at you with a giant paw. You barely get out of the way in time — the claws leave deep gouges in your wetsuit. Rather than chasing you, the crocodile shakes its head vigorously, trying to dislodge the rope.

  “Quick!” Harrison yells. “Jump!”

  While the croc is distracted, you sprint for the ditch. It’s too deep for the crocodile to easily crawl across. But is it also too wide for you to leap over?

  Hiss. The crocodile is chasing you again. It has fought its way out of the loop. You run as fast as you can and hurl yourself across the small ravine—

  But it’s too wide, you’re not going to make it—

  And then Harrison grabs your outstretched hand and hauls you up on the other side.

  You both collapse to the ground, breathing heavily. The croc prowls back and forth on the other side of the ditch, looking for a way across. Bits of rope hang from its teeth.

  “Let’s go,” Harrison yells. You run up the hill together, out of the big croc’s sight.

  “How did you know that would work?” Harrison asks, panting.

  “I didn’t,” you say.

  Boom!

  The explosion knocks you both down. It’s like someone hit a timpani drum with a sledgehammer right behind your head. The sky goes black with flying debris. Only the thick canopy of leaves above stops you from being buried under a cloud of dust.

  You’d forgotten all about the bomb. Lucky you travelled so far from the camp site, or you and Harrison might have been vaporized. Fortunately, the lookout is even farther away — your friends should be OK.

  “Thanks,” you say. “You saved my life.”

  Harrison looks oddly guilty. “You saved mine,” he says. “Now come on. Let’s get to the car.”

  As you trudge through the mess of pebbles and ash that now cover the forest floor, you wonder if your parents will ever let you go to camp again.

  00:00

  You survived! There are twelve other ways to escape the danger — try to find them all!

  Click here to try again.

  05:49

  Heart pounding, you scoop up the bomb — it’s surprisingly light for something so powerful — and sprint out of the cave. The seconds blink away on the timer.

  01:50, 01:49, 01:48 …

  No sign of Harrison in the forest. You must have guessed correctly — he knew about the bomb, and now he’s as far away from the blast radius as he can get. At the lookout with the other kids, probably.

  With half as much explosive, you guess the explosion will be only half as big. But half the size of a stadium is still huge. You need to find a wide, flat area, with no trees or rocks to get picked up and thrown about.

  Suddenly you know the perfect place. But will you make it in time?

  You sprint back along the trail, away from the camp. You pass the place where you left Harrison and take a fork to the left, racing past the spot where Stacey was attacked by the two giant goons. You keep glancing down at the timer and almost trip over your fallen surfboard.

  00:59, 00:58 …

  Finally you’re at the beach. There’s still no one around. You dash down the sand to the black ocean. Your feet kick up salty spray as you reach the shallows and keep going until you’re waist deep in the cold waves. Then you hurl the bomb as far as you can.

  Maybe the water will destroy the electronics and stop the explosive charge from detonating. Or maybe it will set the bomb off early. You don’t wait around to find out. Before the bomb even hits the water you’re already running in the opposite direction, back to the shore.

  Your feet drag in the undertow. It’s like one of those nightmares where a monster is behind you and your legs won’t move fast enough to outrun it.

  Soon you hit the shore. You could run back up to the trees, but if the bomb goes off before you get there, you’ll be fried. Maybe you should dig a trench for cover instead.

  If you dig a hole in the sand to protect yourself from the blast, click here.

  If you keep running to the tree line, click here.

  11:03

  Stacey’s already running into the trees, back towards the beach. You chase after her. Even with her limp, it’s hard to keep up.

  “What about the bomb?” you say. “What about my friends?”

  “I can’t make it to the caves in time to defuse the bomb,” she says. “How close are the police helicopters?”

  You look up. “I have no idea.”

  “OK,” Stacey says, and you realize she’s talking on the stolen phone. “I need one team to evacuate the campers, the other to defuse the bomb. I’m headed back to the oil rig to grab the ringleader.”

  She hangs up without saying goodbye.

  “I don’t know how to pilot a hovercraft,” you say, breathing hard.

  “It’s fairly straightforward,” she says. “And I can’t leave you here. If they don’t defuse the bomb in time …”

  She leaves the sentence hanging. There’s a sinking feeling. You had thought this was all over — that the good guys had won.

  “If you have a hovercraft,” you ask, “why were you in a wrecked speedboat?”

  “I don’t have one. Those guys did.” Stacey jerks a thumb back over her shoulder.

  You emerge onto the beach. Stacey runs over to the mountain of sand you saw earlier — the one you thought had once been a big sandcastle. She clears away some of the sand, revealing a plastic tarpaulin just beneath the surface.

  “They left it here when they came over to plant
the bombs,” Stacey says. “The sand was supposed to hide it from thermal cameras and satellites. I just hope the keys are in it. Give me a hand, will you?”

  You run over and grab the tarp.

  “On three,” Stacey says. “One, two, three!”

  You both pull the tarpaulin. It slides off, revealing a two-person hovercraft. Sand cascades over your bare feet.

  Stacey jumps in. “Come on!”

  You hesitate. The craft doesn’t look as futuristic as you expected. It looks like an oversized bumper car with two big fans bolted to the back, protected by metal grilles. A rubber skirt hangs around the edge.

  “Hurry up.” Stacey grabs the key in the ignition and twists. The fans roar to life. The rubber skirt inflates. You climb into the hovercraft just in time. It starts to slide down the beach like a puck on an air-hockey table.

  “Hold them steady!” Stacey gestures at the fans. “You’re steering.”

  You grab the swivelling bar attached to the fans. The word TILLER is engraved on it. “What will you be doing?”

  The hovercraft reaches the water and glides right over it, bouncing on the gentle swells. Stacey grabs a harpoon gun from the floor of the vessel and starts reeling in the cable. “Don’t worry about me. The rig’s that way.” She points slightly to your right.

  You yank the tiller sideways. The big fans swivel. The hovercraft cruises around in a slow orbit, engine whining.

  When the hovercraft rolls out from between the cliffs that surround the beach, the oil platform comes into view on the horizon. It looks like an enormous table, hovering above the ocean on four fat legs. Brightly coloured shipping containers surround a watchtower on top. A crusty pipe sticks straight down into the ocean, sucking up oil from beneath the seabed.

  “What’s the plan when we get there?” you ask.

  “You’re staying here. I’m going up there to arrest the people in charge before they get airlifted out. A police helicopter will arrive for backup in ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “Won’t the bad guys see us coming?”

  “They’ve already seen us coming,” Stacey says.

  Something splashes into the water next to the hovercraft. A split second later you hear the pop of a gunshot.

  “They’re shooting at us!” you cry.

  “Yes. I suggest you keep your head down.”

  Stacey doesn’t heed her own advice. She remains upright at the bow like a figurehead of a mermaid on a ship, the harpoon gun balanced on her shoulder.

  You stay low, cowering behind the rim of the hull. The hovercraft has almost reached the looming rig.

  Another splash. Something hits the rubber skirt. You peep over the side to look. A syringe is sticking out of the skirt, its feather-like tailpiece quivering in the wind.

  “They’re using poison darts!” you say.

  “Ballistic tranquilizer,” Stacey corrects. “Enough to knock out a hippo. If one of those syringes hits you, you’ll be dead before you feel the sting.”

  “Why do they have that?!”

  The hovercraft drifts into the shadow of the platform. Stacey crosses the hull to shut down the fans, leaving the craft floating between the gigantic concrete pilings. She aims the harpoon gun straight up and pulls the trigger.

  Pow! The spear explodes out of the barrel. The reel whirs like a rattlesnake as the cable unspools. The harpoon punctures the underside of the platform with a distant thunk.

  “Stay here,” Stacey says. She hooks the gun on to the tiller, grabs the cable and starts climbing up to the platform. It’s at least fifteen metres, but she gets to the top in less than thirty seconds.

  “When will you be back?” you hiss.

  “Soon.” She opens a hidden hatch and scrambles up out of sight. The hatch falls closed after her.

  You look around at the choppy water. The people on the rig know the hovercraft is down here. What if they open the hatch and start shooting at you? Maybe you should climb up there too.

  If you climb up after Stacey, click here.

  If you stay in the hovercraft, click here.

  18:50

  “Hey! Where have you been?”

  You look up from the storage box. Harrison, the camp leader, storms towards you. He’s a stout man with hairy arms and a farmer’s tan. This is his first camp — there was a different leader when you came last year.

  “Mr. Michaels!” you shout. Harrison told everyone they could call him by his first name, but the adrenaline has made you forget.

  He turns his faded blue eyes on you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he growls. “What were you thinking, just wandering off?”

  You don’t know why he’s angry. It’s only a couple of minutes’ walk to the beach, and kids are constantly wandering there and back again. But you don’t have time to get defensive.

  “There’s a bomb near the camp!” you say.

  Harrison’s eyes go wide. The colour drains from his face. “What?”

  “A government agent showed up looking for it. We have to …”

  If you say, “… find the bomb and disarm it!” click here.

  If you say, “… get everyone as far away as possible!” click here.

  02:42

  The world ends right behind you. There’s a blinding flash of light, and a mighty blast of energy slams into your back, lifting you off your feet and throwing you forwards. You just have time to cover your face with your arms before you crash into the nearest tree.

  Smash! You cry out as you hit the trunk with bone-shattering force. But there’s no time to even feel the pain as a wall of fire and debris swarms in to consume you.

  THE END.

  Click here to go back and try again!

  CAN YOU SURVIVE THE BULLET TRAIN DISASTER?

  Get ready for another COUNTDOWN TO DANGER …

  30 MINUTES.

  30 PATHS.

  EVEN MORE DANGER!

  Print ISBN: 978-1-4431-5774-2

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-4431-5775-9

  Scholastic Canada Ltd.

  604 King Street West, Toronto, Ontario M5V 1E1, Canada

  Scholastic Inc.

  557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012, USA

  Scholastic Australia Pty Limited

  PO Box 579, Gosford, NSW 2250, Australia

  Scholastic New Zealand Limited

  Private Bag 94407, Botany, Manukau 2163, New Zealand

  Scholastic Children’s Books

  Euston House, 24 Eversholt Street, London NW1 1DB, UK

  www.scholastic.ca

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Heath, Jack, 1986-, author

  Shockwave / Jack Heath

  (Countdown to danger)

  Previously published: Lindfield, NSW : Scholastic Australia, 2016.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4431-5776-6 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-4431-5777-3 (html)

  1. Plot-your-own stories. I. Title.

  PZ7.H35Sho 2017 j813’.6 C2016-905909-X

  C2016-905910-3

  First published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited, 2016.

  This edition published by Scholastic Canada Ltd., 2017.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Jack Heath.

  Illustration and design copyright © 2016 by Scholastic Australia.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Steve Wells Designs.

  Additional illustrations: Big surfing ocean wave © Willyam Bradberry | Shutterstock.com; Water splashing © Alex Staroseltsev | Shutterstock.com; Water splashing, drops of ocean water © Maksym Poriechkin | Shutterstock.com; Explosion background © Jiri Vaclavek | Shutterstock.com; Surfboarding silhouette © ZiaMary | Shutterstock.com; Great White Shark © Catmando | Shutterstock.com; Storm seascape © Andrey Yurlov | Shutterstock.com; Water and sunset split by waterline © Willyam Bradberry | Shutterstock.com; Realistic fiery explosion © ARENA Creative | Shutterstock.com; Flame border © Natutik | Shutterstock.com; Grunge border © Rochakred | Dreamstime.com; D
igital timer © milmirko | iStockphoto.com; Digital clock © Samarskaya | iStockphoto.com.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read this e-book on-screen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Scholastic Canada Ltd., 604 King Street West, Toronto, Ontario M5V 1E1, Canada.

  First e-book edition: April 2017