Dark Ride (2 page)

“The teens prove clever avoiding the beast.
One false move and they would have been its feast.
To survive in the story, their wits must be keen,
For in this wood there's far worse yet unseen.”

Chapter 1

It's a cool July morning. The fog lifts over the town, and the sun hides behind the haze. Slowly, the streets of Cassidy Falls come to life. A newspaper delivery boy wheels his bike along the quiet streets and flings newspapers at dew-covered targets. Men and women in business attire clasp cups of coffee as they shuffle lazily to their high-priced SUV's. The mammoth vehicles grunt and whirl to life.

In his suburban house at 1223 Crockett Way, Jack Braddock's alarm clock goes off. Reading the numbers in red, he slaps the snooze bar and turns over, thinking another ten minutes of sleep will not delay him. But, after three more minutes of tossing and turning, he lumbers out of bed like a zombie. His eyes are caked with sleep, and he presses his index fingers into their corners, rubbing the dried substance from his eyes and massaging them to prepare for another day. Looking out his second story window, Jack peers into the summer sky to check for rain, then down into his neighborhood, scanning the lawn to see if paperboy has come.
Not yet, good
, he says to himself, hoping to get downstairs in time to witness the entertaining morning ritual.

Opening the door to his room, he almost runs head first into his sister, Blair, who is standing at the door. It startles him, and he wonders,
What is she doing up so early?
She has an intense glower on her face. Jack knows this look well. Evidently, he has made her mad yet again. She is two years older and will be a junior at James K. Polk High School in the fall. She is popular and snooty, and their relationship is more than tumultuous. In fact, it is downright hostile. She has something to say, but Jack fears that listening to her may prevent him from getting outside to witness the morning spectacle.

“What were you doing in my room last night?” she asks. Jack knows that in her mind an intrusion is a capital offense with the only suitable punishment being death by some ancient Chinese torture.

“Uh…nothing.”

“I saw you. My room is off limits to losers, and you are a loser.”

“Maybe you were dreaming.”

“Wide awake. Nice try.”

“Was anything missing?”

“No.”

“Was anything moved?”

Blair thinks a moment. “Not that I noticed.”

“Don't you think if I was in your room, or even within ten feet of your room, I would have done something to annoy you? You know, like, take something or move something? Maybe?”

Jack knows it is a convincing argument, but she's not letting him off the hook that easily. “I better not find anything missing. And if my iPod playlist has been altered in any way, I know where you sleep.”

She storms off, but before she gets too far, Jack stops her with, “Oh and, be sure to tell Colton Spurlock hello when you meet him at the mall later tonight.”

With the mention of the boy's name, Blair's face turns red.

Gotcha
, thinks Jack.

He had learned through his vigil outside her door that Blair, unbeknownst to her parents, was planning on meeting the boy at the mall. His parents did not like Colton.

“Stay out of my room. Stay out of my way. And stay out of the air I breathe.”

“Okay, logically, how am I supposed to do that? The air you breathe? Really?”

“And if mom or dad find out I was talking to Colton, I'll know who told them.”

“It's not like they can't just log on and check the cell—”

“I mean it, you little brat. Off limits! And if they hear about me and Colton, I've been reading up on Chinese bamboo torture.”

“Umm, don't you gotta have bamboo for that to—”

“Mom? I need to get some bamboo for a school project. Can we get some today?”

A sweet voice from downstairs floats up, “Sure thing, dear.”

Blair sasses a smile, cinches her robe tighter, and storms off.

Jack just shakes his head. He waits for the slam of her door that he knows is coming.

Slam
! Jack smiles to himself. If Blair is one thing, she is predictable, a fact he can always count on—and take advantage of. He checks a clock on the wall and thinks, “Oh, no. I'm gonna miss it.”

Jack launches himself down the steps as fast as his morning legs can take him. He eyes the front door, ignoring his father, who is already watching the morning news in the living room. Bursting out the door, Jack waits at the end of the drive, spying eagerly at the yard of his neighbor Mr. Lambert.
No paper
, he contemplates.
Just in time!
Okay Lambert, where are you hiding today?
Scanning his neighbor's driveway, he finds Ronald Lambert dressed in work clothes and crouching behind a large Ford truck,
one of those four-door, jacked-up monsters that makes more noise than a dump truck. From his vantage point, he sees Teddy Zuckerman peddle down the street launching papers to the right and left. Jack watches as the boy slows for his approach in front of the Lambert's.

From behind his hiding spot, Lambert runs out from his cover and says, “Don't you dare, boy….” But it is too late. Zuckerman is good. He is already hurling the paper with the precision of a professional quarterback. The package lands perfectly on top of the cab of the behemoth truck. Zuckerman waves at Jack as he peddles forward, and Jack grins as Teddy tosses a copy of the
Cassidy Falls Herald
to his feet. Jack steals a glance at the undersized Lambert, who is jumping up and down muttering inappropriate words. He's trying to fetch the paper from its perch, which is just out of his reach.

Jack knows he shouldn't laugh, but he can't resist. Every morning for the past three months, Teddy Zuckerman has launched newspapers in hard-to-reach places. Jack is a fan of a well-played prank, and watching this prank always starts his day off right. Pulling the paper from its plastic sheath and loosening the rubber band, Jack walks back into his two-story domicile ready to comb the headlines and catch the scores of last night's hockey game. As he closes the door, he notices that Mr. Lambert, who has grabbed a broomstick, seems to be attempting to play hockey as he tries to free his newspaper. Jack chuckles at the spectacle of the portly man hiking himself on his tip toes, and then losing his balance a couple of times before finally knocking the paper to the asphalt driveway. Giving one last look behind him at Mr. Lambert, he walks into his house.

Jack turns back toward his house as he unwraps the paper and glances at the top headline:
“End of the Story for Storybook Hollow.
”
He freezes.

Chapter 2

It's been two hours since Jack read the haunting words. Sitting on the corner of his bed, he reads the article again for perhaps the fiftieth time.

End of the Story for Storybook Hollow

The last few words reverberate in Jack's mind. Swiping his falling bangs from the corner of his left eye, Jack blinks back tears that have been waiting to gush out for the last two hours. Storybook Hollow had been his palace, his escape, and the home of his fondest memories. He thought that maybe if he just read the article one more time he would see that it was just a hoax.

“Jack!” his father yells from downstairs. “Where is the paper?”

The thundering voice of his father wakes Jack from his self-induced stupor.

“I have to leave for work soon, and I want to see if the letter I wrote made the editorials.”

Readying himself to reveal the horrible news to the rest of the family, Jack slowly descends down the steps.

The Braddock family mornings were always the same. His mom, Brenna, would scrap together some breakfast for his dad, but the kids were forced to scavenge for themselves. This suited Jack just fine. He simply raided the pantry, looking for the white powdered doughnuts his mom always said were bad for him but bought anyway because he asked her to.

“So what's the game plan for today?” his mother cheerily calls to him. “Another day of fun at the pool? It's the last days of summer. You should take advantage of them.”

Jack does not respond.

His father, Wallace Braddock, proud partner of Gaylord and Braddock Accounting, waits in anticipation. Grabbing the paper from Jack, he greedily he scans the editorial page.

“Here it is! They printed another one of my letters.”

His father's obsession with writing letters to the local paper has gotten out of hand. The letter writing has become a badge of pride to Wallace and a bane to Brenna. He reads it aloud as if the family has actually never heard it, forgetting he read it to them at least five times before he sent it off.

Ignoring the victorious dramatic reading of her husband, his mother can see that Jack is in a daze and asks, “Jack, are you okay?”

“Brenna here is the best line,” Wallace says then continues reading, “'It seems to at least this citizen that their relentless pursuit of speeding fines keeps them from doing more important things like keeping the citizens of Cassidy Falls safe.'” Wallace looks over to his wife. Scanning her face looking for praise, he is sorely disappointed by her lack of adulation.

“Wallace, hush. Jack, what is wrong with you? I thought you were meeting the boys at the pool?”

With the scolding fresh in his mind, Wallace Braddock finally looks at his son and sees the boy's dropping demeanor. For all of the good intentions of Wallace Braddock, he is a businessman through and through. There have been one too many days when Wallace has simply ignored the kids.

From the corner of Jack's eye, he sees Blair turn her attention away from some reality show and focus on him.

“They're closing Storybook Hollow.”

Not missing a beat, his dad isn't surprised at all and says, “'Bout time.”

“Wallace.” His mother attempts to redirect her husband.

“Well, look at it this way, son, that area of town was really going downhill fast.”

Again Brenna rebuffs, “Wallace, really?”

“What?”

She gestures to Jack, who is on the verge of tears. Her eyes shoot daggers at Wallace, and the man retreats into his letter to the editor.

Jack is aware of the conflict. His mother has been on his dad's case for years. He overhears her in quiet conversations with his dad at night, saying things like, “You have other responsibilities, Wallace,” and, “The kids really need their father right now.” The pleas are always met with his father's irritated retorts, such as, “I do the best I can, Brenna. When are you going to appreciate the fact that my work is what keeps food on the table?” For years the cycle has continued behind closed doors. Now it is happening right in front of Jack's eyes. Dad is thinking about his business and his letters, and mom is irritated.

His mother turns to Jack. “I'm sorry, dear. Those things tend to happen, though. Part of growing up.”

“But they're gonna build a mall on top of it.”

This has Blair's full attention. “A mall? Sweet! Think we'll get an Abercrombie and Fitch?”

Brenna begins to play referee. “We can't afford that place, sweetie. Not many people around here can.”

Pouting, Blair says, “I can browse.”

“Nobody cares that a local icon is going to be bulldozed?” Jack angrily scolds his family.

Brenna finally stops what she's doing, goes over to Jack, and as tenderly as she can, responds, “What can we do?”

Out of the side of his mouth, Wallace offers, “I can write a letter.”

“Dear?” instructs Brenna, which is code for Wallace to shut up.

Jack considers a moment, then states, “I want to go. Tonight or tomorrow.”

“Not by yourself,” Brenna advises.

“Then you or dad can take me.” Jack includes his mother because he's being nice. The whole family knows that Brenna, after having had a bad experience with Blackbeard's Pirate Ship as well as a bad funnel cake a few years ago, proclaimed she would never set foot near the park again. So, all eyes turn to Wallace.

“Oh no. The only night we have free this week is Friday. And that's game night.”

“Dad, come on. How many more game nights at the Zuckerman's are you gonna have versus how many more times can I go to the park?”

Wallace Braddock stares back at his son. “Let's don't get overdramatic, Jack. Talking to me like that is not going to get you anywhere.”

“Wallace, Jack is very upset. Perhaps you could make up for some lack of sensitivity by overlooking his tone just this once?”

Jack can see that his mother is on his side. He looks at the businessman, clad in suit and tie, to see if her persuasion is registering.

“Okay Jack, I'll take you tomorrow night.”

It is a victory, but Jack is still in mourning and too upset to even acknowledge his father's acquiescence. He gives a nod to his mother, who came through for him, and simply turns and walks back up the stairs. A bittersweet victory. He would go to the park tomorrow. One last glorious night at the Hollow.