“They are like colorful stars,” Loor said. “What could they be?”
This was good. She was calming down.
“I have no idea,” I said. “They don’t look dangerous—”
Suddenly there was an eruption in the water a few feet from us. Exploding up from below came the lights that had severed our line. But now we saw them for what they really were.
They were vehicles.
All five shot up from underwater and flew into the air. They looked to me like bright, colorful motorcycles without wheels. Each had a rider wearing a helmet. They were crouched down low like jockeys behind a conelike windshield. They were hauling, too. The vehicles flew out of the water and continued up toward the floating globes. These things not only traveled underwater, they could fly! All five riders charged in a pack toward a bright orange globe. They sped past it, turned sharply around it, and shot ahead toward the next one.
“They’re racing!” I exclaimed. “Those globes mark the racecourse!”
The five racers flew away from us, speeding from globe to globe. They all then turned together and dove back toward the water. A second later all five hit the surface and disappeared below like a pack of hungry seagulls hunting for fish.
“How cool is that!” I exclaimed. “This is a racecourse!”
“Pendragon,” Loor said calmly, “I still can’t swim.”
Oh, right. We had to get out of the water. I took another look around and was relieved to see another spiral staircase rising out of the water only a few yards away. A few quick strokes and I had towed Loor to the stairs. We both clung to them, happy to have solid footing again. While we sat catching our breaths, we watched as the racers erupted from the water once again, shot into the sky, and charged far off into the distance. Whoever these racers were, they were good, and they had the coolest vehicles I had ever seen.
“Are you okay?” I asked Loor.
Loor nodded and said, “We must continue up.”
I gazed up the staircase to see that it disappeared into blackness.
“Man,” I said. “This guy Zetlin is a piece of work.”
This time I took the lead and hurried up the stairs. As we rose up, we kept watching the racers zip around the globes, plunge into the water, then fly up again and back onto the airborne course. It looked like a lot of fun.
When we arrived at the ceiling, I was relieved to see this next opening wasn’t water. Instead, the staircase rose up through a large, white circle.
Loor said, “How can this be? We are no longer wet.”
Sure enough, our jumpsuits and our hair were completely dry. I was beyond questioning anything that happened. If we were suddenly, magically dry, so be it. Whatever. As it turned out, it was a good thing because when I reached out to the edge of the circle to touch the white band, I was surprised to feel that it was cold.
“It’s snow!” I announced.
Sure enough, I was able to dig my hand into the white edge of the circle and come back with a handful of ice crystals.
“Now what?” was all I could say.
I continued up the last few steps and arrived at a small, snow cave. It was like standing up inside an igloo. It was chilly, too. Good thing we were dry.
“I guess that’s the way,” I said, pointing to the opening to the cave.
Neither of us had any idea what to expect outside, but we had to brave it. So the two of us walked toward the light and out of the cave. The small cavern took a turn, and as soon as we both rounded it, we were blinded by an incredibly intense, white light. After having been in the dark of the jungle and the watery racecourse, all we could do was cover our eyes and wait until they adjusted to this new environment. It took a few seconds, but when we lowered our hands, we were met with yet another incredible sight.
It looked like Antarctica.
Not that I’ve ever been to Antarctica, but if I had, I’m sure it would look like this. Everything was white, which explained why we were having trouble seeing. The sky was bright white too. Again, we may have been inside a building, but this time we were enveloped in such blindingly bright light that we couldn’t see walls or a ceiling.
As my eyes grew more accustomed to the light, I began to make out more detail. It seemed like we were standing on a vast field of ice. It wasn’t all flat, though. There were huge mounds of craggy ice that formed hills and valleys all around us.
“This Dr. Zetlin has a very strange imagination,” Loor said.
Before I could agree, we heard excited shouting.
“Whooo! Yeah! Eehaaaaa!”
It sounded like a bunch of guys having an adrenaline rush. A second later five figures appeared on top of one of the icy mounds. They shot over the top, got some serious air, and then landed on the slope and slid down on what looked like snowboards. They weren’t like Second Earth snowboards though. These things were round and black. They were about the size of a garbage can lid and curved up at the rim. The riders’ feet were attached in the middle somehow. Man, they were good. As they sped down the slope, they did three-sixties and dodged around one another and basically looked like a stunt team. They all wore the familiar green jumpsuits, but with black helmets that covered most of their heads and faces.
Loor and I watched in awe as the five riders sped toward us. I wasn’t sure if we should run, or hold our ground. I started to back away, but Loor stopped me.
“No,” she said. “We cannot show fear.”
Easy for her to say. But I stayed where I was.
A second later Loor and I were hit with a spray of snow as the snow riders dug in and stopped directly in front of us. It was a totally awkward moment. The five helmeted riders stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at us through dark, tinted goggles. Nobody said anything. Finally I figured it was time to cut to the chase.
“We’re looking for Dr. Zetlin,” I said.
The five riders looked to one another and started to laugh. I didn’t expect that. Then again, I’m not sure what I expected. Finally one of them got control of himself enough to step forward.
“You can’t just show up and see the Z,” he said.
“It’s very important,” I said, feeling kind of lame. “He’ll want to see us.”
I had no idea how to sum up quickly why we had to see Dr. Zetlin. They didn’t seem like the kind of guys who would stand still for a long-winded explanation. Or care.
“Do you know where he is?” Loor asked.
Another rider walked up to her and said, “Sure, but if you want to see him, you’ve got to play first.”
“Play?” I asked. “Play what?”
“Slickshot!” another rider shouted.
“Yeah! Slickshot!” the others chimed in.
The riders then quickly released their boots from their snow disks, tossed them aside, and started to skate across the ice. It seemed impossible because they moved like they had ice skates on, but they didn’t. They were sliding along with only their boot bottoms touching the surface. The first rider then skated back to us and stopped right in front of me.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “One of you races slickshot with us. You don’t have to win, just finish.”
“What kind of race is it?” I asked.
The guy pointed out across the ice to the other racers who were skating along.
“It’s a skating race,” he explained. “There’s a course over the ice marked by red arrows. We all skate the course together, first one back here wins.”
“And all we have to do is finish?” I asked.
“It’s not that easy,” the rider explained. “There are five checkpoints. The first one has a tower with six red balls in it. One for each racer. You have to pick up a ball, then skate forward and drop it in a basket before skating to the next checkpoint. That one has six balls too. But the third checkpoint has only five balls. If you’re the last one there, you’re done. The next one has five balls too, but the final checkpoint has only four.”
“So six start the race and only four
finish,” I said.
“Exactly,” the guy said. “Finish the race and you can meet the Z.”
“We are not here to play games,” Loor said firmly.
“Too bad,” the rider said with a shrug. “We are.”
With that he turned and started to skate away.
“Wait!” I shouted. “I’ll give it a shot. But I don’t get how you guys are skating without skates.”
The racer skated over to the mouth of the cave. Next to the opening was something we hadn’t seen when we arrived. It was a rack full of the same black helmets like the racers wore. Next to it was a wire bin with close to forty red balls about the size of a grapefruit. I guessed those were the kind of balls that would be at the checkpoints. The guy picked up one of the helmets and skated back to us.
“Attach these to your shoes,” he said while reaching into the helmet. He pulled out two wire frames that looked as if they would fit onto the sole of a shoe. Each one had two yellow pads, one for the front of the foot, one for the back. He then added, “Get used to them. We’ll go set up the course.”
He skated away to join the other racers.
“Maybe I should be the one to race,” Loor said.
“Do you know how to skate?” I asked.
Loor looked down. She didn’t like to admit defeat.
“I do,” I said. “Let me try these things out.”
The wires attached easily to the soles of my boots. One end clamped over my toe, the other attached over my heel. But I didn’t understand how they could work like ice skates, until I put my feet down and pushed off.
“Whoa!” I shouted as I slid across the ice.
The pads must have been made of a superslick material, because I glided over the ice as easily as if I had on hockey skates. It took me all of thirty seconds to get the feel of these things and found they were even easier to control than skates. I played a couple of years of junior hockey, so I was pretty confident on the ice. With these slick pads, I found that I could turn, stop, cut, and skate backward better than at home. My confidence was building.
But we faced a tough decision. Between the two of us, Loor was the athlete. But if she couldn’t skate like me, it didn’t matter how strong she was. She’d never make it to the first checkpoint.
“I think I should be the one to race,” I said to Loor.
Loor nodded. She knew I was right. “Why must we play games?” she snapped. “We are on a serious mission. It should not be decided by a childish competition.”
“I know,” I said. “But let’s do it their way. If I finish, then we’ll get to Zetlin.”
“And if you don’t?” she asked.
I didn’t have an answer to that.
The five racers then skated right up to us and stopped in a group. “Ready?” the one who gave me the helmet asked.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound like a winner. “Any other rules I should know about?”
The racers laughed again. I hated that.
“Absolutely,” the first racer said. “The main rule is: Anything goes. Finish any way you can.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. But this was their game; I wasn’t going to start arguing the finer points of slickshot. The five racers pushed off toward the starting line. I was about to follow when Loor touched my shoulder. She didn’t say anything; she simply looked into my eyes. I think she was trying to give me some of her strength and confidence. My knees went weak. In that moment I was more worried about letting her down than finding Dr. Zetlin. She gave me a wink and let me go.
I pushed off while putting on my helmet and fitting the goggles over my eyes. I never wanted to win anything more in my life. For her, for me, and even for Aja. I realized that the fate of Veelox might very well be decided on this icy racecourse.
How wrong was that?
The five racers stood shoulder to shoulder at a tall, red post. “This is the start and finish,” the first racer explained. He then pointed out the course. “The first checkpoint is dead ahead.”
I looked across the flat expanse to a wall of ice that rose up in the distance. There I saw a red arrow painted on the face, pointing left.
“Just follow the arrows,” the rider said. “You can’t miss them. Get to the checkpoint, pick up a ball and drop it in the basket. If you miss one ball, you’re out. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said.
My heart started to pump faster. This was suddenly looking like a bad idea. I had no clue as to how good these guys were. It’s not like they looked like pro speed skaters or anything. Just the opposite. They were all my size. But this was their home ice. I’ll bet they raced this course all the time. This was insane. But I was in it now. All I could hope was that I’d hold on long enough to stay in the race.
“On my go,” the first racer said.
All six of us crouched down, ready to spring forward.
“One, two, go!”
What happened to three? This was a bad start. I was already a second behind and the race had barely begun. All I could do was push off and try to catch up, pumping my legs and swinging my arms for momentum. I was surprised to see that these guys didn’t leave me in the dust. Or maybe I should say leave me in the frost. Not only did I keep up with them, I quickly made up the ground I had lost with the bad start. I was still last, but my confidence zoomed. Maybe I had a chance after all.
We quickly arrived at the first arrow and made the turn toward the checkpoint. I made the turn easily, crossing my feet over and trying not to lose too much speed. Up ahead I saw a rack with six of the grapefruit-size red balls. The five other racers quickly snatched one apiece while barely slowing down. I was last, but right there with them.
That is, until the fifth racer knocked the last ball off the rack. The red ball hit the ice and rolled away. I had to come to a full stop to pick it up. No way that was an accident. I guess when they said that “anything goes,” they meant it. I realized there was more to worry about than just keeping pace. These guys cheated.
I snatched up the ball and took off again. A few yards ahead was a steel basket with the first five balls that the other racers had already dumped. I dropped mine off and dug in to catch up.
The other racers were skating easily. None of them looked as if they wanted the lead. That was fine with me. As long as they all were being cautious, I could keep up. This part of the course was a wide-open expanse of ice. I didn’t even look for any red arrows, all I did was follow the guys in front of me.
But it got frustrating because they were all skating in one line, shoulder to shoulder. I had no hope of getting around them. I skated up behind the group, but when I put on some speed to go around, the whole group moved in front of me, blocking the way. I’d try to skate the other way, and they’d all move as one in the other direction to block me again. I was beginning to think this wasn’t so much about somebody winning, as about making sure I would lose. As long as they kept me back like this, I would always be the last one to reach the rack of balls.
That would be bad news at checkpoint #3.
We quickly approached the second checkpoint. Like precision pilots the five racers smoothly moved into a single line, with me last, again. But this time I made sure to be close enough behind the fifth racer so he couldn’t try anything cute with the sixth ball.
He didn’t try. All six of us picked up a red ball and dumped it into the steel basket beyond the rack. This time, I was right there with them. But I was still in sixth place. Not good enough. I had to make a move.
The course then slid into a narrow canyon of ice. The walls rose up steeply on either side. There was maybe five feet between the walls where we were skating. It was so narrow, we had to skate single file. There was no way I could make up any ground.
I was in trouble. The next checkpoint only had five balls. If we stayed this way, I’d be gone. I tried to move up on the fifth racer, but it was like these guys had eyes in their butts. The whole line slid over in front of me. It was so frustrating! I was fast enough to
keep up with them, but didn’t have the experience to do anything else.
We were closing in on the third checkpoint. I had to make some kind of move or the race would be over. An idea came to me that was either brilliant or totally whacked. Chances were good if I tried it, I’d crash and burn. But I didn’t see any other way. I looked ahead at the ice walls to either side of us. I needed a little luck, and got it. Ahead to my right I saw a spot that was a little less steep than the rest. There wasn’t time to think. I had to go for it.
I made a quick move to my left and sure enough, the whole line of racers slid in that direction to block me. But then I shot to my right and skated toward the wall of ice. The slope was forgiving enough that I didn’t slam into it. Instead I skated a few feet up onto the wall, forcing my chattering legs to hold firm. I then pivoted my body back left and shot for the center. The momentum from being up on the wall gave me just enough extra speed for a slingshot between the fourth and fifth skater. It was a NASCAR move all the way, and it worked.
The fifth guy couldn’t believe it. My surprise move threw off his rhythm and he nearly fell. By then we were at the checkpoint rack of balls. The fifth, and last, was mine. I scooped it up and jammed it into the basket. I was still alive.
The next section of the race was hairy. We shot out of the ice canyon and the course again moved left. I now realized we were moving in a big loop, counterclockwise, back to the starting line. The racers ahead of me broke out of formation. A second later, I saw why.
The expanse of ice before us was littered with boulder-size chunks of ice. There was no straight path through. It was an obstacle course. Blasting through at full speed would be suicide. We had to back off the speed, get more control, and dodge the boulders. For me it was a relief, because I was getting tired. I’d bet anything that these guys were in better shape than I was. My only advantage was that I had so much at stake, I couldn’t lose. I was racing on adrenaline.
All five of us took a different route. It was tricky, not only because I had to get through as fast as possible, but now that I wasn’t following anybody, I had to keep an eye out for the red arrows that marked the course.