25 Going for a Ride

Chapter 25 GOING FOR A RIDE Coke felt himself being carried down a flight of stairs, out a door, around a corner, and then up another flight of stairs. "Help!" he could hear his sister shouting. But her voice was muffled, as she, too, was wrapped tightly inside a heavy blanket. Finally, both twins were unwrapped so they could see their kidnappers. "Bowler dudes!" Pep shouted. "Not again!" "At your service," said the bowler dude with the mustache. "At your service," repeated the clean-shaven bowler dude. "I said that already." "And I said it again." "Shut up."

"You shut up." Aside from the arguing bowler dudes, it was an empty room. There were no windows, and there was just one door. One way out, and the bowler dudes were blocking it. "What are you going to do to us now?" Coke asked defiantly. "You'll find out," the clean-shaven bowler dude said, snickering. With that, both bowler dudes left the room, locking the door behind them. Pep let out the best scream she could muster, but the room was soundproof, of course. Coke looked around for an escape route. There were no vents in the floor, walls, or ceiling. He reached for the cell phone in his back pocket. It was gone. Pep's had been taken away too. When a half hour had passed and the twins hadn't come out of the Museum of the Weird, their parents went inside to get them. Coke and

Pep, of course, were no longer there. "Have you seen two kids?" Dr. McDonald asked the lady behind the ticket booth. "A boy and a girl? Twins? They're thirteen." "Yeah, I think I saw them in here earlier," the lady replied. "Maybe fifteen minutes ago. They must have left." Dr. and Mrs. McDonald rushed outside and looked up and down the busy street. There were a lot of kids milling around. But not their kids. Reader, as a young person, you can't imagine the feeling that comes over parents when they're out in a public place and their children suddenly are not where they expect them to be. In a matter of seconds, the parents will go from calm and relaxed to believing they will never see their children again. Dr. McDonald dialed the cell phone numbers for Coke and Pep. No answer. Now the McDonalds were getting frantic. The next call was to the police.

The twins were locked in a room just a few blocks away, but there was no way of knowing that. There was nothing for them to do either. Hours passed. At some point, the door flew open and one of the bowler dudes slid in a tray with two burritos on it. Then the door slammed shut again. Other than that, there was no communication. The twins lost track of time. "Why do you think they're holding us here?" Pep asked her brother. "If they wanted to do something to us, they could have done it already." "It's almost like they're waiting for something," Coke replied. They were. The nice detective at the police station helped Mrs. McDonald file a missing persons report. The police would comb the city looking for the twins, she explained calmly. Kids get reported missing all the time. More often than not, they stray a hundred yards from their parents or wander off in search of ice cream. On the very

rare occasion, a kid is kidnapped. But all threats must be taken seriously. Just before dusk, the door abruptly opened again and both of the bowler dudes came into the room. It was almost a relief for the kids to see human beings, even if it had to be those human beings. The mustachioed one was carrying two rags and some thick rope. He proceeded to tie the twins' hands behind their backs and blindfold them. "Get your paws off of me!" Coke shouted, trying to karate-kick the clean-shaven bowler dude. He knocked the bowler hat off the dude's head but didn't inflict any damage. The big man was not amused. He picked up Coke and hoisted him over his shoulder. His brother did the same to Pep. "Where are you taking us?" she demanded. "Leave us alone!" "You're going for a ride," the clean-shaven bowler dude said. "Kids like rides, don't you?"

The twins couldn't see where they were being taken, but they could tell they were carried downstairs and thrown roughly into a van. The ride was short, less than five minutes. They couldn't have traveled even a mile. Coke spent the time trying to free his hands behind his back, but the rope was expertly tied. The van came to a stop. The doors opened. The bowler dudes weren't talking. Coke and Pep felt themselves being picked up and carried a short distance. It was quieter here. The sounds of the city were more distant. They felt themselves being lowered carefully onto something. It was wobbly, not a solid surface. There was the sound of water underneath. "I think we're in a boat," Coke said. "A little boat." "And I'd advise you not to try anything stupid, like jumping out of it," one of the bowler dudes said. "It's really hard to swim with your hands tied behind your back."