by Dan Gutman
“What else does it say in there, Mom?” Pep asked.
“Well, it says that Lubbock, Texas, is the economic, education, and health care hub of a multicounty region called the South Plain,” she told them. “It’s known as Hub City.”
Coke and Pep’s eyes opened wider.
“Lubbock is Hub City?” Coke asked.
“It also says that Lubbock was named after Thomas S. Lubbock,” continued Mrs. McDonald, “who was a former Texas Ranger and Confederate officer—”
“He was a Texas Ranger?” Pep asked, slapping her head. “What else does it say?”
“Let’s see,” said Mrs. McDonald. “Lubbock was the birthplace of early rock and roll star Buddy Holly, who created such memorable tunes as ‘That’ll Be the Day’ and ‘Peggy Sue’ with the group he led, the Crickets.”
“The Crickets?” shouted Coke.
“He was the Cricket Master!” Pep said.
“Hmm, this is interesting,” Mrs. McDonald went on. “You’ll never believe what they have on the campus of Texas Tech University in Lubbock.”
“A piece of the Blarney Stone?” Coke and Pep asked simultaneously.
“How did you know?”
“It was a lucky guess,” the twins replied.
“Does it say anything about Lubbock being a Land of Joy?” asked Pep.
“Land of Joy . . . Land of Joy . . . ,” Mrs. McDonald mumbled as she paged through her guidebook. “No, but there is an amusement park in Lubbock.”
“What’s it called?” the twins asked.
“Joyland.”
“Joyland!” Pep shouted. “That’s Land of Joy!”
“We need to go there!” Coke shouted. “Tomorrow, at two o’clock.”
“Why so specific?” asked Dr. McDonald.
“Please? Please? Please? Please?”
Dr. McDonald pulled off the road at the exit and spotted a sign for the Days Inn Lubbock South.
Chapter 29
JOYLAND
Coke couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed thinking about his next twenty-four hours.
2 PM TOMORROW LAND OF JOY. Something was going to happen at Joyland Amusement Park. In all probability, he would have to confront Doominator, Dr. Warsaw’s robot clone. It tried to kill him and Pep at the Mars factory, and it was sure to try again.
How do you kill a robot before it kills you? Robots don’t bleed. They don’t have a heart that can stop beating or a brain that can stop firing neurons. Doominator was more like a computer than like a human being.
But computers break down, Coke thought. Maybe he could disable it. Make it crash. Doominator said it had twelve miles of wiring inside it.
That gave Coke an idea.
Quietly, he got up from the bed, grabbed his wallet, tiptoed out of the room, and took the stairs down to the front desk of the hotel. Nobody was standing there in the middle of the night, but after a minute or so, a lady with tired eyes came out of the back room.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Do you have a pair of wire cutters I could borrow?” Coke asked.
“Wire cutters? Hmmm, I don’t know.”
She was used to guests requesting toothbrushes or other toiletries they had forgotten to pack in their luggage. But nobody had ever asked for wire cutters before.
She rooted around in the drawers and a closet for a few minutes, and then, miraculously, she found what she was looking for.
“Do you mind my asking what you’re planning to do with wire cutters?” she asked, before handing over the tool, which looked like a thick pair of scissors.
“Yeah, I’m planning to cut some wires,” Coke replied. “How much do I owe you?”
“Well, I’ve been working here for ten years,” the lady said, “and I’ve never had to use this thing once. Take it. Be careful. It’s sharp.”
Coke slipped two dollars onto the counter anyway and thanked the lady. He would be able to sleep now, knowing he had a weapon he could use against Doominator.
In the morning, their parents dragged—I mean took—the twins to the Buddy Holly Center in downtown Lubbock. It’s a small museum honoring the rock and roll pioneer whose short career ended when he died in a 1959 plane crash. There was a film about Holly, lots of photos, clothes, and even his trademark glasses, which were recovered from the crash site in Iowa.
But the kids found it hard to pay much attention. Partly it was because Buddy Holly’s music was from a different era. But mostly it was because they were nervous about what was going to happen in a few short hours.
Two o’clock. That’s what the final cipher said—2 PM TOMORROW LAND OF JOY.
After lunch at the Cast Iron Grill, Dr. McDonald drove a couple of miles to Lubbock’s Mackenzie State Park, where Joyland is located. As Dr. McDonald parked the car, Pep was visibly nervous, even trembling.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered to her brother. “We’re walking into a trap. We don’t even have any weapons this time.”
Technically, that was true. When they confronted Evil Elvis at Graceland, they had a backpack stuffed with fireworks. Ultimately, that proved to be the undoing of Evil Elvis.
“Check this out,” Coke said, pulling the wire cutters halfway out of his pocket. “One snip and Doominator is finished.”
“Where’d you get that?” Pep asked.
“The front desk of the hotel,” Coke replied. “I gave the lady two bucks for it.”
“But how are you going to get to the wires?”
“Simple. I just have to break the skin and start cutting.”
“Ugh, gross.”
“Doominator’s made of metal, remember?” Coke said. “It’s not like I’ll be cutting into flesh and bone. It can’t feel pain.”
Pep didn’t have a lot of confidence in her brother’s plan. So many things could go wrong. Maybe, if we’re lucky, she thought, Mya and Bones will be there as backup. She remembered the last thing Mya said to her at the chocolate factory—“We will watch out for you, always.”
Even so, Pep wished she had a weapon, like a Frisbee grenade. She would be able to fling it at Doominator and take the robot out from a distance.
It was one thirty when the McDonalds paid their admission and walked through the Joyland entrance gate. Getting there early was good, both twins thought. They could keep an eye out for the bowler dudes, Mrs. Higgins, and, of course, a robot named Doominator that looked strikingly like Dr. Warsaw.
Joyland doesn’t pretend to be in a class with Six Flags, Cedar Point, Disney World, or any of the other giant amusement parks. It’s smaller, more intimate, sort of retro. The best part is, the lines are shorter. You spend more time on the rides than you do waiting to get on the rides.
It was Texas hot, close to a hundred degrees. Nozzles were scattered around to spray mists of cold water on people. Dr. McDonald closed his eyes for a moment to take in the clatter of the roller coasters and the aroma of cotton candy and fried dough. It brought back memories of his boyhood.
The family stopped in front of a map of Joyland. Even though the park was small, there were more than thirty rides and attractions. Everyone agreed it would be best to get an overview by taking Skyride, a ski-lift-style dangling cable car ride that runs the length of the park and provides a panoramic view from above.
Each chair holds just three passengers, so Dr. and Mrs. McDonald got on first and instructed the twins to get on the next chair. That was fine with Coke and Pep. They had work to do. They hopped on the next chair, and it slowly climbed to treetop level.
Below, they could see all of Joyland—the old-time carousel, the bumper cars, the Santa Fe Chief train ride. The chairlift slowly soared past Dare Devil Drop, Galaxi Coaster, Paratrooper, and the other thrill rides. The water rides—Big Splash Water Slide and the Vortex Water Coaster—were up ahead.
Coke’s and Pep’s feet dangled from the chair, and it looked as though they could step on the little people walking below. Carefully, they scanned the grounds on both sides looking for Doominator.
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Little did they know that Doominator was above them.
Ten minutes earlier, the nimble robot had climbed a ladder to the top of the Skyride and waited for Coke and Pep’s chair to pass underneath the little platform it was perched on. When the chair did, the robot pounced.
“Looking for me?” it said as it dropped onto the seat between the twins and clamped a steely arm around each one’s shoulders. “Don’t scream, or I’ll snap both your necks like a couple of toothpicks.”
It wouldn’t have mattered if they had screamed. The sound of people screaming on the nearby roller coasters would have drowned them out.
“Ahhh—” Pep said before a cold, metallic hand covered her face.
“You kids were pretty lucky getting out of the Snickers machine in Waco,” Doominator said. “This time you won’t be so fortunate. I’m going to get rid of you two once and for all.”
“Wh-what are you going to do to us?” Coke asked, petrified.
“Oh, nothing fancy,” the robot replied. “When we get over some nice hard asphalt, I’m going to throw you out of here. Depending on which body part hits the ground first, you’ll probably be dead upon impact.”
“You’ll never get away with this!” Pep said.
She looked urgently at her brother. Coke was struggling to get his hand into his pocket to pull out the wire cutters.
“It will look like an accident,” Doominator said casually. “People will say a couple of foolish kids were horsing around on the chairlift and fell off. Happens every day.”
“Coke, do something!” Pep shouted.
At last, her brother was able to get the wire cutters out of his pocket. He wrapped his fist around the tool and jammed it into Doominator’s thigh as hard as he could.
There was just one problem. The wire cutter didn’t pierce the “skin.”
Doominator, a sly grin on its face, looked up at Coke. The robot roughly snatched the wire cutter out of the boy’s hand.
“Are you joking, with this toy?” Doominator said. “My body is made of iron, sonny. You think you’re going to hurt me with that? All you did was ruin my new pants.”
Doominator flung the wire cutter away and grabbed Coke by the throat.
“Okay, now it’s time for you to die,” it said.
“I’m sorry I ruined your pants!” Coke pleaded as he wrestled with the robot. “Stop! Don’t! Please! I’m begging you!”
Pep started hitting Doominator, but it was no use. If only she had a weapon, something, anything she could use. Pep reached into her pocket and pulled out the first thing she touched—a refrigerator magnet in the shape of Oklahoma. It slipped out of her hand and landed on Doominator’s left cheek, where it stuck.
“What’s that?” the robot asked, waving its arms in front of its face.
“Get another one, Pep!” Coke shouted. “Quick!”
Pep reached into her pocket and pulled out her refrigerator magnet that was shaped like Arkansas. She put it on Doominator’s other cheek. The robot appeared disoriented.
“Got any more?” Coke asked urgently.
Pep emptied her pockets of all the refrigerator magnets she had and stuck them on every exposed body part on Doominator she could find.
“I don’t care about my pants,” Doominator said. “I don’t care about my pants. I don’t care about my pants. I don’t care about my pants. . . .”
“What’s happening?” Pep asked.
“You know how they say you shouldn’t use magnets around your computer?” Coke said. “Doominator’s like a computer! The refrigerator magnets are damaging its internal hard drive! I think it’s gonna crash!”
There was a strange look on Doominator’s face. Its mouth opened and closed rapidly, like a set of fake chattering teeth. Its left eye was blinking out of sync with its right eye. Its ears were twitching. It appeared to be having a seizure.
“Rewriting the bits . . . drive is polarized . . .,” Doominator said, slurring its words. “Data . . . is . . . corrupted . . . circuit board is unreadable . . . must reformat . . .”
That was the last thing the robot said. A moment later, its body convulsed and slipped off the chairlift. Coke and Pep leaned over to watch it tumble down and land with a splash in the Wild River Log Flume.
Doominator was, in a matter of speaking, dead.
The twins were about to look up, but at that moment they both noticed a man limp over to the edge of the log flume. He was dressed exactly like Doominator.
“It’s Dr. Warsaw!” Pep shouted. “The real one!”
They watched as Dr. Warsaw pulled Doominator’s body out of the water and threw it roughly on the ground. Then he started shouting at it.
“I knew you would fail again, you incompetent nincompoop!” Dr. Warsaw hollered at Doominator. “I knew you were going to fail at the chocolate factory, so I gave you a second chance to take care of them here. And you failed me again!”
The robot was unresponsive. Not only had its hard drive been demagnetized, but having been soaked in water, it was completely lifeless.
“I spent millions creating you in my image,” Dr. Warsaw yelled, beating on the robot’s chest with his fists. “You were supposed to do what I could not. And now this. Why do my underlings always fail me? Why? I hate you! I hate myself!”
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Lubbock TX.
In the B box, type Roswell NM.
Click Get Directions.
Chapter 30
THE END OF A NIGHTMARE
To passersby, it looked like Dr. Warsaw was giving CPR to revive a drowning man. Somebody must have dialed 911, because in seconds an ambulance and a police car were on the scene. Dr. Warsaw argued with the cops until they finally threw him into the squad car. The twins watched as it drove away.
The Skyride was nearing the end of its journey over Joyland.
“I just realized something,” Pep said. “That’s the third person we killed this summer.”
“That one doesn’t count,” Coke replied. “It was a robot. You can’t kill a robot. And besides, Doominator had it coming. They all did.”
“I guess you’re right,” his sister replied.
After Pep got over the shock of what had just happened, a smile slowly crept to her face as she realized how her life had suddenly changed. Doominator was dead, or irreparably damaged, anyway. Mrs. Higgins and the bowler dudes were still out there somewhere, but they didn’t seem like such a threat anymore. And Dr. Warsaw was in police custody. The twins’ long nightmare had come to an end.
And so had Skyride. At the bottom, Coke and Pep’s parents were waiting for them. During the ride, they hadn’t turned around to see what was going on in the chair behind them, so they had no idea that their children very nearly just died.
“Wasn’t that fun?” asked Mrs. McDonald.
Coke and Pep looked at each other.
“Yeah!” they said simultaneously.
With Dr. Warsaw and his clone out of the way, the twins could cut loose. Joyland lived up to its name. Coke and Pep went on every ride in the park, even the kiddie rides. They had a fantastic time. Their parents had not seen such big smiles on their faces in a long, long time.
Finally, an announcement came over a loudspeaker saying the park would close in thirty minutes.
“Let’s blow this pop stand,” Coke said.
As they got back on the road, everyone agreed that Texas was amazing. They had seen and done so many cool things. Mrs. McDonald, of course, made it a point to mention all the cool places they hadn’t visited yet: Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo. The statue of a pig on wheels in Abilene. The Texas Surf Museum in Corpus Christi. The National Museum of Funeral History in Houston. The World’s Largest Strawberry in Poteet. And they never made it to Hidalgo, the Killer Bee Capital of the World.
The McDonalds could have spent the entire summer in Texas. But it felt like the time was right to move on.
Heading west on Route 114 out of Lubbock, they soon passed through the appropriately named town of Levelland. Less than an hour later, this sign appeared at the side of the road:
“Woo-hoo!” Coke hollered. “Hey, did you guys know that New Mexico has more cattle than human beings?”
“Nobody cares, doofus,” Pep said.
“The cows care,” Coke replied. “Too bad they can’t vote. They would take over.”
Mrs. McDonald ceremoniously dropped her Texas guidebook into the trash bag and cracked open her brand-new copy of New Mexico Off the Beaten Path.
New Mexico is an amazing state with deep caves, red mountains, and thousand-year-old Indian villages. But right here it looked a lot like West Texas. Hot. Flat. Dry. Barren. As the McDonalds drove west on Route 380, there were no towns for seventy miles. Just nothingness. There was something peaceful about it.
Mrs. McDonald was a little worried. It was getting late, and they would need a place to stay for the night. It didn’t look like there would be many motels out in the wilderness.
Shortly after they saw a sign for the Bitter Lake National Wildlife Refuge, evidence of civilization started to appear. Soon they were rolling into Roswell, otherwise known as the Dairy Capital of the World.
It was obvious. The town smelled like cows.
But you, reader, are probably aware that Roswell, New Mexico, is much more famous for something else—UFOs.
In the summer of 1947, the story goes, something fell out of the sky near Roswell. The Army said it was an experimental high-altitude balloon. But a lot of people insisted it was an extraterrestrial spacecraft. Not only that, but they said that some alien pilots were found inside the UFO, and the U.S. government performed medical experiments on them.
Whether or not aliens visited Roswell in 1947, the town hasn’t been reluctant to take advantage of the controversy. As the McDonald family drove downtown through North Main Street, they passed three blocks crammed with alien-themed gift shops and attractions. Tourists were walking around wearing T-shirts with WE PROBE IN PEACE printed on them. The local Arby’s has a sign that says ALIENS WELCOME. Streetlights are in the shape of alien heads. Even the McDonald’s is shaped like a flying saucer.
