EXTREME DANGER
by
PiperMerlyn
Chapter 11
The Chapters
Joe
We headed back to the stadium as fast as we could go. The Big Air Games were being held in one of the four stadiums in South Philadelphia. Luckily, because we’d gotten such an early start, we made it in record time, despite the heavy traffic. The stadium complex was a total zoo.
A giant banner greeted us at the entrance: The City of Philadelphia is Proud to Welcome The Big Air Games. Hundreds of extreme sports fans were lined up at the gates. Parents with binoculars and kids with skateboards wandered through an obstacle course of food stands and souvenir tables. Some of the sports gear companies were even giving away free hats and T-shirts. I couldn’t resist getting one of each.
Frank slapped my shoulder and pointed toward a couple of TV News vans. Some men were unloading equipment in front of a large tent. A sign read, Press Registration.
Frank tugged the press passes out of a pocket. We’d stashed our own clothes in the backpacks. He held them up. “We can use these and skip all the lines.”
We steered our motorcycles toward the press tent and parked them next to one of the vans and shed the helmets. “Okay, remember, reporters for Shredder magazine,” Frank whispered in my ear.
“Frank! Joe! What are you doing here?”
I didn’t quite sigh. We should have known Maxwell Monroe would be here too. He waved us over toward the registration desk. We held up our badges to a tall woman who wrote down our ID numbers and said hello to Max.
He frowned at us. “I should have known. Cagey, asking a lot of questions, not sharing.” He shook his head and sighed. “I should have guessed you two were reporters. So you ready for big trouble at the Big Air Games?” He looked us over and grinned. “That’s one way to get into the inner circle. Don’t think it’d work with me though.”
Before he could say another word, Frank tugged on my arm. “Let’s go, Joe. Let’s try to get some pregame interviews.”
Max leaned forward. “Let me give you two a bit of advice though,” he said in a low voice. “Whatever happens out there, you don’t want to be standing in the line of fire.” He straightened up and waved. “Catch you later,” Max yelled after us.
Once we were out of earshot, I glanced at Frank. “Frank..”
“He’s a reporter, of course he’s looking for sensationalism. Come on.”
The opening ceremonies were about to start. Frank and I found a good spot with a clear view of the field. A slender man dressed in faded khaki shorts and an orange T-shirt walked onto center stage. The crowd went ballistic and a second later, I realized why. “Frank,” I said, nudging him.
“What?”
“Do you know who that is?”
“Am I supposed to?” Frank gazed over at the man.
The man smiled and said, “And without further ado, I am honored to introduce you to the extreme sports athletes of the Big Air Games.”
Frank gave me a look. “Don’t you have his videogame?”
I grinned, still staring at the greatest skateboarder ever. A cute girl joined him on the stage and let out a rebel yell. I know my mouth fell open. “Frank, that’s her. She’s the only girl on Tony Hawk’s videogame.”
“Calm down, little bro.” Frank just shook his head.
The field exploded with activity. A heavy-metal band ripped out the opening chords of a pulse-pounding song. Fireworks burst from a cannon. Hundreds of athletes swarmed across the field.
I found myself trying to look everywhere at once. Inline skaters circled the track. Skateboarders zoomed up and down the long rows of half-pipes. A small army of motocross bikers hurled full-speed into the killer curve of the Monster Loop – up, around and down – in rapid-fire succession.
I grabbed Frank’s shoulder. “Look! There’s Jenna!” She was easy to spot with her hot-pink skateboard.
“And there’s Eddie Mundy,” said Frank. “In the red bandana.”
“We should keep an eye on him.”
Suddenly, all activity in the field screeched to a halt. The athletes lined up, standing straight and tall, as the band launched into an electric-guitar version of the national anthem.
“Let the games begin,” a voice announced at the end of the song. Some of the athletes started to leave the field.
“Well, well, well, check out the posers.”
It was Eddie Mundy. The cocky skateboarder walked toward us with a big sneer on his face. He gave us a once-over and shook his head. “I’m diggin’ the new duds, but you still look like a pair of preppy boys. Give it up, dudes. The new look’s not fooling anyone.”
We moved to walk past him but Eddie threw his arms across our shoulders. “Look, guys, I know who you are. Really.”
I gave him a hard look. “What are you talking about?”
“There you go, with the questions again,” said Eddie. He sighed. “Those questions are getting you both in a lot of trouble.” He gripped our shoulders. “So drop it. Leave. Now.” He let go and walked away.
I watched him for a minute, wondering what he was trying to tell us. I turned to Frank. “You think he’s GR SK8R?”
“Joe?”
We both turned to see Jenna running up to us. She stared at me and cautiously ran her hands over the spikes. “Nice. I like. Extreme Hardys.” She grinned and gave me a hug. “So Holly and Weird helped you out?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Hey, where’s your skateboard?”
“In the dugout. Why?”
“You probably should keep it close. Check the trucks, the wheels, deck. Make sure no one’s messed with it.”
Jenna nodded, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off back to the dugout. Frank grabbed my arm and steered us back towards the press registration tent. “I think we shouldn’t leave our bikes alone either.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “So...you’re saying I had a good idea?”
He rolled his eyes and kept walking. I grinned. “Just because you don’t say it out loud, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” I followed him back to where our motorcycles were parked.
Our ‘cycles appeared to be okay, but Frank insisted we inspect them carefully. I knelt beside the bike, checking brake lines, the gas tank and any vulnerable part of the bike. “Everything checks out.”
“Check again.” He looked over at me. “People know we’ve been asking questions. We’ve had people warning us off.”
I nodded and checked again. Once Frank was satisfied with the inspections, we jumped on our ‘cycles and revved the engines. We took off, riding slowly along the perimeter of the stadium.
We needed to warn all the extreme sports athletes to protect their gear, not to leave it unattended. As we approached the motocross zone, I couldn’t stop staring at the Monster Loop rising in the distance. The highest point of the curve must have been fifty feet high but as we got closer, it seemed more like a hundred. How could anyone get up enough momentum to ride the entire loop without falling?
The sound of engines made me look around. There were six motocross bikers lining up, getting ready to tackle the Monster Loop. Frank and I pulled up on the sidelines and parked our motorcycles. We jumped off and ran toward the motocross bikers.
One of the event directors, a tall black-haired man stopped us. “Hold it right there, boys. Everyone has to stay back until the stunts are completed.”
Frank tried to explain. He told the event director about the possibility of sabotage and asked if the bikers kept a close eye on their bikes.
“Don’t worry, we’re taking care of everything,” the man assured him. “With Mr. X on the loose, everybody is taking more precautions. We’ve got more security, more safety inspectors, more emergency medical teams...you name it.”
I looked around and saw all the security guards walking along the sidelines – and an ambulance waiting near the Monster Loop. It didn’t make me feel any better. I’d seen more than enough medical emergencies in the past two days.
Frank finally gave up trying to get past the event director. He came over and stood next to me, gazing up at the Monster Loop, and shaking his head. “That thing is scary.”
“Totally.”
The motocross bikers were all revved up and ready to roll. Then a man waved a flag and they were off. The bikers tore up the dirt as they headed for the first series of ramps. Up and over, up and over, the roaring machines sailed through the air, then plunged down to earth, wheels spinning faster with every jump.
The six bikers skidded and swerved past us, making the wind whip at us and the dust fly. Hurtling toward an even bigger ramp, they picked up speed, hit the curve and shot into the air again, even higher than before.
Finally the bikers were making their final round—their last chance to build up momentum for the big finish...the Monster Loop. Faster and faster, they flew around the track with their engines roaring.
That’s when I noticed it. One of the biker’s wheels was wobbling. “Frank!” I yelled over the noise. “Look at number four’s front wheel.”
We watched helplessly as the biker headed straight for the Monster Loop. “Stop! No!” We both screamed it even though we knew the noise was too loud.
One, two, three of the motocross bikers hit the loop, rising up – thirty, forty, fifty feet in the air – one after the other. Up, up and over. Biker number four was right on their heels. The guy must have noticed that his front wheel was wobbling but it was too late to stop. He hit the curve and rose straight up, his whole bike shaking. Higher and higher, he went, until he was nearly upside down at the top of the curve.
“He’s not going to make it,” Frank said hoarsely. “He’s going to fall.”
But he didn’t fall. The bike completed the upper part of the arch, then plunged its way downward. Then the front wheel snapped off. The front of the bike started grinding into the metal edge of the loop, sparks flying everywhere. The biker tried to lean back – but then the whole bike went tumbling forward, somersaulting down, falling and falling.
Finally biker number four slid to a stop at the bottom of the Monster Loop. The last two bikers managed to swerve out of his way. I took a deep breath, willing the paramedics to go check the biker out. But then number four’s bike burst into flames.
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The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.