I should have guessed that a fifteen-year-old would despise anything not stuffed with E-numbers and MSG.
“Oh gross,” he whinged. “I want proper food.”
Proper food, it turned out, was burger and fries which we found at one of the smaller concession stands. At least it was warmer sitting out there at the benches provided. You just had to fend off the bold sidlings of the local scavenging bird population. If you chewed with your mouth open they’d practically have your food straight off your tongue. Trey was in constant danger of losing his lunch.
The kid shovelled down his meal doused in ketchup to equal proportions, pushing the lettuce and tomato garnish to the side of his plate like he’d found a slug in it.
Still, it was nice to sit down somewhere that didn’t try to buck you out of your seat. Even in the shade of an awning the day had a bottomless warmth to it that permeated right down to your bones. I’d just spent a cold winter being reminded about all the bones of mine I’d previously broken. Being here was a luxury, I told myself, regardless of having to look after an obnoxious oik like Trey.
The kid finished his burger, slurped the last of his drink up through the straw and got to his feet, dragging the crumpled park map out of his pocket.
“We gotta go ride Demon next,” he decided.
Great. Now we have fear and indigestion, too.
I got up and took my time over collecting the debris of our meal and sliding it into one of the nearby bins, trying to give my food some time to go down before I had to stomach another vomit-inducing piece of so-called entertainment. I’d never been on a rollercoaster of any description before today. If, when this assignment in Florida was over I never got on another as long as I lived, it would still be too soon.
Nevertheless, it went with the territory. When I’d agreed to an alternative career in close protection, to become a bodyguard, I’d agreed to take discomfort along with reward and danger.
Just my luck that I’d got landed with Trey.
***
The Demon coaster was across the other side of the park. Scarlet-painted bits of its twisted superstructure were visible over the tops of the trees as we drew nearer. It looked immense and tangled, with no obvious sense of direction. Signs we passed informed us that Demon was newer, higher, and faster than anything we’d ridden so far. I was amazed Trey hadn’t headed straight for it, and said so.
He shrugged. “It’s a steelie,” he said, dismissive.
“A what?”
“A steel coaster, not a wooden one. They’re OK, I s’pose, but woodies rule. They’re, like, awesome.”
I tried not to think about the ride quality of something that didn’t live up to the bone-shaker we’d spent half the morning on.
The queue line for Demon was certainly no shorter. We weaved our way in guided by a maze of stainless steel barriers. If you touched them your hands came away sticky with the sweat from a thousand nervous palms. I’m not sure mine were any drier.
As we moved deeper in we came to a split in the path, manned by a young attendant who only had a couple of years on Trey at most.
“Singles to your left,” he said as we approached.
Trey started to go left. I caught his arm.
“Hang on a moment, what does that mean?”
He tried to shake me loose. “If you go in the singles line it means you get on the ride faster ‘cos they use you to, like, fill up the empty seats.”
“No way,” I muttered, steering him off to the right. “We’d rather go on together, thanks,” I told the attendant, who shrugged and pointed us wordlessly in the other direction, his attention already lost.
As we joined the end of the long, shuffling line Trey was back to sulking again. “Oh man,” he complained, “anyone would think you were my mother.”
I didn’t know what had happened to Mrs Pelzner. She could have been off visiting her folks, spending her divorce settlement, or dead. It was difficult to respond to Trey’s jibe without knowing which, so I let it pass.
“Look, Trey,” I said, making a valiant stab at tolerance again. “The company your dad works for has hired me to keep you safe. It’s hard enough doing that on a bloody rollercoaster to begin with, but there’s no way I can do my job if we don’t stick together. You don’t have to like it,” I added, as he opened his mouth to protest, “but that’s the way it is, so learn to live with it.”
Yeah, right, his expression said, but he didn’t speak to me again as we shuffled our way to the front of the queue line.
I had to admit, privately, that the singles route did seem to be moving much faster. I swear I saw one kid go round twice in the time it took us to get there.
I even saw the good-looking guy again who’d been in the wooden coaster gift store. I only spotted him because one of the attendants held the car back while she made him take off his hat and sunglasses. So this one really was going to turn you upside down and shake the change out of your pockets.
The guy was a little sheepish to be singled out for censure. He looked around as though hoping no-one else had noticed. And when it was uncovered like that I couldn’t help getting the feeling that I knew his face from somewhere.
I only had a moment’s glimpse before the car was released and clanked its way up the first lift hill. After what seemed like an eternity, the clanking stopped, there was a pause, and then the usual screaming started.
They were running two sets of cars on this ride, so it wasn’t long before the last run was in and emptying. I was worrying too much about what was coming next to bother racking my memory for where I might possibly have known the Oakley guy from. As the attendant checked the overhead harness was down securely over my shoulders and buckled to the seat between my legs, I had other things to occupy my mind.
I was in for a big surprise.
After the woodies that had been my introduction to coasters, the steelie was a revelation. It was blisteringly quick, yes, but it was smooth the way a sports bike ridden hard on an open road is smooth. It inverted us so many times I lost all comprehension of which way was ground and which was sky, but for the first time I began to see what all the fuss was about.
“Now that,” I said when it was over, “is more like it!”
Trey immediately lost all interest in further turns on Demon. He hurried out along the ride exit, his amusement now blighted by my unexpected pleasure. I realised belatedly that all I would have had to do to curtail my earlier torment would have been to make a show of enjoying it. At that moment I could cheerfully have strangled him.
I went after the kid, determined not to scurry to match his petulant pace. Outside I spotted him over by some shops, perched on a low concrete wall with his arms folded and shoulders hunched. He was too cross even to put on an act in front of the two teenage girls who were sitting next to him. As I walked across the open area between us, I saw the guy from the coaster again out of the corner of my eye, now back in his Oakleys and his Yankees cap.
And something about the predatory way he moved sent the hairs rising on the back of my neck in a way no rollercoaster, however scary, would ever be able to do.
He was already closer to Trey than I was and moving closer still, focused on him, intent. His shirt was hanging loose outside his chinos but his right hand was stealing underneath the hem, going for something that was concealed at his waistband. Something I couldn’t see, but could certainly guess at.
I broke into a run, using my arms to pump up instant speed like a sprinter leaving the blocks. At the last moment Trey became aware of my full-pelt charge and looked up, startled out of his surly guise. Oakley man was watching his expression. He started to twist, head turning.