Hideaway

Tod would be feeling confident— the worst is behind us —and easier to catch by surprise. The approach to the killing ground was announced by one of the most unusual tricks in the ride, a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn at high speed, with the cars on their sides all the way around. When they finished that circle and leveled out once more, they would immediately enter a series of six hills, all low but packed close together, so the train would move like an inchworm on drugs, pulling itself up-down-up-down-up-down-up-down toward the last set of swinging doors, which would admit them to the cavernous boarding and disembarkation chamber where they had begun.
    The train began to tilt.
    They entered the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn.
    The train was on its side.
    Tod tried to remain rigid, but he sagged a little against Jeremy, who was on the inside of the car when it curved to the right. The old rocket jockey was whooping like an air-raid siren, doing his best to hype himself and get the most out of the ride, now that the worst was behind them.
    An-tic-i-paa-aa-tion.
    Jeremy estimated they were a third of the way around the circle.… halfway around … two-thirds.…
    The track leveled out. The train stopped fighting gravity.
    With a suddenness that almost took Jeremy's breath away, the train hit the first of the six hills and shot upward.
    He let go of the lap bar with his right hand, the one farthest from Tod.
    The train swooped down.
    He made a fist of his right hand.
    And almost as soon as the train dropped, it swooped upward again toward the crown of the second hill.
    Jeremy swung his fist in a roundhouse blow, trusting instinct to find Tod's face.
    The train dropped.
    His fist hit home, smashing Tod hard in the face, and he felt the boy's nose split.
    The train shot upward again, with Tod screaming, though no one would hear anything special about it among the screams of all the other passengers.
    Just for a split second, Tod would probably think he'd smacked into the overhang where, in legend, a boy had been decapitated. He would let go of the lap bar in panic. At least that was what Jeremy hoped, so as soon as he hit the old rocket jockey, when the train started to drop down the third hill, Jeremy let go of the lap bar, too, and threw himself against his best friend, grabbing him, lifting and shoving, hard as he could. He felt Tod trying to get a fistful of his hair, but he shook his head furiously and shoved harder, took a kick on the hip—
    —the train shot up the fourth hill—
    —Tod went over the edge, out into the darkness, away from the car, as if he had dropped into deep space. Jeremy started to topple with him, grabbed frantically for the lap bar in the seamless blackness, found it, held on—
    —down, the train swooped down the fourth hill—
    —Jeremy thought he heard one last scream from Tod and then a solid thunk! as he hit the tunnel wall and bounced back onto the tracks in the wake of the train, although it might have been imagination—
    —up, the train shot up the fifth hill with a rollicking motion that made Jeremy want to whoop his cookies—
    —Tod was either dead back there in the darkness or stunned, half-conscious, trying to get to his feet—
    —down the fifth hill, and Jeremy was whipped back and forth, almost lost his grip on the bar, then was soaring again, up the sixth and final hill—
    —and if he wasn't dead back there, Tod was maybe just beginning to realize that another train was coming—
    —down, down the sixth hill and onto the last straightaway.
    As soon as he knew he was on stable ground, Jeremy scrambled back across the restraint bar and wriggled under it, first his left leg, then his right leg.
    The last set of doors was rushing toward them in the dark. Beyond would be light, the main cavern, and attendants who would see that he had been daredevil riding.
    He squirmed frantically to pass his hips through the gap between the back of the seat and the lap bar. Not too difficult, really. It was easier to slip under the bar than it had been to get out from beneath its protective grip.
    They hit the swinging doors— wham! —and coasted at a steadily declining speed toward the disembarkation platform, a hundred feet this side of the gates through which they had entered the roller coaster. People were jammed on the boarding platform, and a lot of them were looking back at the train as it came out of the tunnel mouth. For a moment Jeremy expected them to