29 Joyland

Chapter 29 JOYLAND Coke couldn't sleep. He lay in bed thinking about his next twenty-four hours. 2 PM TOMORROW LAND OF JOY. Something was going to happen at Joyland Amusement Park. In all probability, he would have to confront Doominator, Dr. Warsaw's robot clone. It tried to kill him and Pep at the Mars factory, and it was sure to try again. How do you kill a robot before it kills you? Robots don't bleed. They don't have a heart that can stop beating or a brain that can stop firing neurons. Doominator was more like a computer than like a human being. But computers break down, Coke thought. Maybe he could disable it. Make it crash. Doominator said it had twelve miles of wiring

inside it. That gave Coke an idea. Quietly, he got up from the bed, grabbed his wallet, tiptoed out of the room, and took the stairs down to the front desk of the hotel. Nobody was standing there in the middle of the night, but after a minute or so, a lady with tired eyes came out of the back room. "May I help you?" she asked. "Do you have a pair of wire cutters I could borrow?" Coke asked. "Wire cutters? Hmmm, I don't know." She was used to guests requesting toothbrushes or other toiletries they had forgotten to pack in their luggage. But nobody had ever asked for wire cutters before. She rooted around in the drawers and a closet for a few minutes, and then, miraculously, she found what she was looking for. "Do you mind my asking what you're planning to do with wire cutters?" she asked, before handing over the tool, which looked like

a thick pair of scissors. "Yeah, I'm planning to cut some wires," Coke replied. "How much do I owe you?" "Well, I've been working here for ten years," the lady said, "and I've never had to use this thing once. Take it. Be careful. It's sharp." Coke slipped two dollars onto the counter anyway and thanked the lady. He would be able to sleep now, knowing he had a weapon he could use against Doominator. In the morning, their parents dragged—I mean took—the twins to the Buddy Holly Center in downtown Lubbock. It's a small museum honoring the rock and roll pioneer whose short career ended when he died in a 1959 plane crash. There was a film about Holly, lots of photos, clothes, and even his trademark glasses, which were recovered from the crash site in Iowa. But the kids found it hard to pay much attention. Partly it was because Buddy Holly's

music was from a different era. But mostly it was because they were nervous about what was going to happen in a few short hours. Two o'clock. That's what the final cipher said—2 PM TOMORROW LAND OF JOY. After lunch at the Cast Iron Grill, Dr. McDonald drove a couple of miles to Lubbock's Mackenzie State Park, where Joyland is located. As Dr. McDonald parked the car, Pep was visibly nervous, even trembling. "What's the plan?" she whispered to her brother. "We're walking into a trap. We don't even have any weapons this time." Technically, that was true. When they confronted Evil Elvis at Graceland, they had a backpack stuffed with fireworks. Ultimately, that proved to be the undoing of Evil Elvis. "Check this out," Coke said, pulling the wire cutters halfway out of his pocket. "One snip and Doominator is finished." "Where'd you get that?" Pep asked. "The front desk of the hotel," Coke replied.

"I gave the lady two bucks for it." "But how are you going to get to the wires?" "Simple. I just have to break the skin and start cutting." "Ugh, gross." "Doominator's made of metal, remember?" Coke said. "It's not like I'll be cutting into flesh and bone. It can't feel pain." Pep didn't have a lot of confidence in her brother's plan. So many things could go wrong. Maybe, if we're lucky, she thought, Mya and Bones will be there as backup. She remembered the last thing Mya said to her at the chocolate factory—"We will watch out for you, always." Even so, Pep wished she had a weapon, like a Frisbee grenade. She would be able to fling it at Doominator and take the robot out from a distance. It was one thirty when the McDonalds paid their admission and walked through the Joyland entrance gate. Getting there early was good, both twins thought. They could keep an eye out

for the bowler dudes, Mrs. Higgins, and, of course, a robot named Doominator that looked strikingly like Dr. Warsaw. Joyland doesn't pretend to be in a class with Six Flags, Cedar Point, Disney World, or any of the other giant amusement parks. It's smaller, more intimate, sort of retro. The best part is, the lines are shorter. You spend more time on the rides than you do waiting to get on the rides. It was Texas hot, close to a hundred degrees. Nozzles were scattered around to spray mists of cold water on people. Dr. McDonald closed his eyes for a moment to take in the clatter of the roller coasters and the aroma of cotton candy and fried dough. It brought back memories of his boyhood. The family stopped in front of a map of Joyland. Even though the park was small, there were more than thirty rides and attractions. Everyone agreed it would be best to get an overview by taking Skyride, a ski-lift-style dangling cable car ride that runs the length of