because the whole operation was computer-controled, eliminating any
danger that one train would crash into the back of another.
Jeremy and Tod were among the twelve customers that the attendant sent
to the first train.
Tod wanted the front car, but they didn’t get it. That was the best
position from which to ride daredevil because everything would happen to
them first: every Plunge into darkness, every squirt of cold steam from
the wall vents, every explosion through swinging doors into whirling
lights.
Besides, part of the fun of riding daredevil was showing off, and the
front car provided a perfect platform for exhibitionism, with the
occupants of the last five cars as a captive audience in the lighted
stretches.
With the first car claimed, they raced for the sixth. Being the last to
experience every plunge and twist of the track was next-best to being
first, because the squeals of the riders ahead of you raised your
adrenaline level train just didn’t go with daredevil riding.
The lap bars descended automatically when all twelve people were aboard
An attendant came along the platform, visually inspecting to be sure all
of the restraints had locked into place.
Jeremy was relieved they had not gotten the front car, where they would
have had ten witnesses behind them. In the tomb-dark confines of the
unlit sections of tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to see his own hand an
inch in front of his face, so it wasn’t likely that anyone would be able
to see him push Tod out of the car. But this was a big-time violation
of the rules, and he didn’t want to take any chances. Now, potential
witnesses were all safely in front of them, staring straight ahead; in
fact they could not easily glance back, since every seat had a high back
to prevent whiplash.
When the attendant finished checking the lap bars, he and signaled the
operator, who was seated at an instrument panel on a rock formation to
the right of the tunnel entrance.
“Here we go,” Tod said.
“Here we go,” Jeremy agreed.
“Rocket jockeys!” Tod shouted.
Jeremy gritted his teeth.
“Rocket jockeys!” Tod repeated.
What the hell. One more time wouldn’t hurt. Jeremy yelled: “Rocket
jockeys!”
The train did not pull away from the boarding station with the jerky
uncertainty of most roller coasters. A tremendous blast of compressed
air shot it forward at high speed, like a bullet out of a barrel, with a
whoosh!
that almost hurt the ears. They were pinned against their seats as they
flashed past the operator and into the black mouth of the tunnel.
Total darkness.
He was only twelve then. He had not died. He had not been to Hell.
He had not come back. He was as blind in darkness as anyone else, as
Tod.
Then they slammed through swinging doors and up a long incline of
well-lit track, moving fast at first but gradually slowing to a crawl.
On both sides they were menaced by pale white slugs as big as men, which
reared up and shrieked at them through round mouths full of teeth that
whirled like the blades in a garbage disposal. The ascent was six or
seven stories, at a steep angle, and other mechanical monsters gibbered,
hooted, snarled, and squealed at the train; all of them were pale and
slimy, with either glowing eyes or blind black eyes, the kind of
critters you might think would live miles below the surface of the
earth-if you didn’t know any science at all.
That initial slope was where daredevils had to take their stand.
Though a couple of other inclines marked the course of the Millipede, no
other section of the track provided a sufficiently extended period of
calm in which to execute a safe escape from the lap bar.
Jeremy contorted himself, wriggling up against the back of the seat,
inching over the lap bar, but at first Tod did not move. “Come on,
dickhead, you’ve gotta be in position before we get to the top.”
Tod looked troubled. “If they catch us, they’ll kick us out of the
park-”
“They won’t catch us.” at the far end of the ride, the train would coast