The Genius Files #4 (23 page)

The robot was unresponsive. Not only had its hard drive been demagnetized, but having been soaked in water, it was completely lifeless.

“I spent
millions
creating you in my image,” Dr. Warsaw yelled, beating on the robot's chest with his fists. “You were supposed to do what I could not. And now this. Why do my underlings always fail me? Why? I hate you! I hate myself!”

T
o passersby, it looked like Dr. Warsaw was giving CPR to revive a drowning man. Somebody must have dialed 911, because in seconds an ambulance and a police car were on the scene. Dr. Warsaw argued with the cops until they finally threw him into the squad car. The twins watched as it drove away.

The Skyride was nearing the end of its journey over Joyland.

“I just realized something,” Pep said. “That's the third person we killed this summer.”

“That one doesn't count,” Coke replied. “It was a
robot. You can't kill a robot. And besides, Doominator had it coming. They
all
did.”

“I guess you're right,” his sister replied.

After Pep got over the shock of what had just happened, a smile slowly crept to her face as she realized how her life had suddenly changed. Doominator was dead, or irreparably damaged, anyway. Mrs. Higgins and the bowler dudes were still out there somewhere, but they didn't seem like such a threat anymore. And Dr. Warsaw was in police custody. The twins' long nightmare had come to an end.

And so had Skyride. At the bottom, Coke and Pep's parents were waiting for them. During the ride, they hadn't turned around to see what was going on in the chair behind them, so they had no idea that their children very nearly just died.

“Wasn't that fun?” asked Mrs. McDonald.

Coke and Pep looked at each other.

“Yeah!” they said simultaneously.

With Dr. Warsaw and his clone out of the way, the twins could cut loose. Joyland lived up to its name. Coke and Pep went on every ride in the park, even the kiddie rides. They had a fantastic time. Their parents had not seen such big smiles on their faces in a long, long time.

Finally, an announcement came over a loudspeaker
saying the park would close in thirty minutes.

“Let's blow this pop stand,” Coke said.

As they got back on the road, everyone agreed that Texas was
amazing
. They had seen and done so many cool things. Mrs. McDonald, of course, made it a point to mention all the cool places they
hadn't
visited yet: Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo. The statue of a pig on wheels in Abilene. The Texas Surf Museum in Corpus Christi. The National Museum of Funeral History in Houston. The World's Largest Strawberry in Poteet. And they never made it to Hidalgo, the Killer Bee Capital of the World.

The McDonalds could have spent the entire summer in Texas. But it felt like the time was right to move on.

Heading west on Route 114 out of Lubbock, they soon passed through the appropriately named town of Levelland. Less than an hour later, this sign appeared at the side of the road:

“Woo-hoo!”
Coke hollered. “Hey, did you guys know that New Mexico has more cattle than human beings?”

“Nobody cares, doofus,” Pep said.

“The cows care,” Coke replied. “Too bad they can't vote. They would take over.”

Mrs. McDonald ceremoniously dropped her Texas guidebook into the trash bag and cracked open her brand-new copy of
New Mexico Off the Beaten Path.

New Mexico is an amazing state with deep caves, red mountains, and thousand-year-old Indian villages. But right here it looked a lot like West Texas. Hot. Flat. Dry. Barren. As the McDonalds drove west on Route 380, there were no towns for seventy miles. Just nothingness. There was something peaceful about it.

Mrs. McDonald was a little worried. It was getting late, and they would need a place to stay for the night. It didn't look like there would be many motels out in the wilderness.

Shortly after they saw a sign for the Bitter Lake National Wildlife Refuge, evidence of civilization started to appear. Soon they were rolling into Roswell, otherwise known as the Dairy Capital of the World.

It was obvious. The town smelled like cows.

But you, reader, are probably aware that Roswell, New Mexico, is much more famous for something else—UFOs.

In the summer of 1947, the story goes, something fell out of the sky near Roswell. The Army said it was an experimental high-altitude balloon. But a lot of people insisted it was an extraterrestrial spacecraft. Not only that, but they said that some alien pilots were found inside the UFO, and the U.S. government performed medical experiments on them.

Whether or not aliens visited Roswell in 1947, the town hasn't been reluctant to take advantage of the controversy. As the McDonald family drove downtown through North Main Street, they passed three blocks crammed with alien-themed gift shops and attractions. Tourists were walking around wearing T-shirts with
WE PROBE IN PEACE
printed on them. The local Arby's has a sign that says
ALIENS
WELCOME
. Streetlights are in the shape of alien heads. Even the McDonald's is shaped like a flying saucer.

“This place is cheesetastic!” Coke proclaimed.

“Cheesetastic?” asked Mrs. McDonald.

“Fantastically cheesy,” Coke translated.

The International UFO Museum and Research Center had already closed for the day. Too bad. They have a model UFO, a film of the “official” autopsy of the alien bodies after the 1947 crash, and a prop alien-corpse dummy.

The Alien Zone was closed too. For a few dollars, you can go inside and take pictures of yourself next
to alien mannequins sitting at a bar, in a jail, in an outhouse, and at an alien autopsy scene.

“What a load of baloney,” Dr. McDonald said as he drove past a street sign that said
UFO PARKING ONLY
.

“Oh, I don't know, honey,” Mrs. McDonald said. “There are literally billions of planets in the universe. Who's to say for sure that ours is the only one that has intelligent life on it?”

“I am,” Dr. McDonald said firmly.

“Lots of people say they've seen UFOs, Dad,” Pep said. “Some of them even claim to have been abducted by aliens.”

“Lunatics and nut jobs,” her father replied. “Those crackpots are always drunk, by themselves, and out in the middle of nowhere when they spot UFOs. If aliens are so intelligent, they'd come to New York City
or Los Angeles. Why don't they land on the White House lawn and introduce themselves?”

“Because we'd hit them with nuclear bombs and blow them to smithereens,” Coke replied.

“I'll believe in UFOs when I see one with my own eyes,” Dr. McDonald said.

Mrs. McDonald did a search for motels in Roswell, and there were plenty to choose from. She booked a room at the Best Western El Rancho Palacio, which was right up the street from Alien Zone.

“Check it out!” Coke said when the family walked around the back to their room. “They have a Ping-Pong table!”

It was an old wooden table that was out on the grass and unprotected against the elements. The edges had been chipped by frustrated players, but the table looked usable. Their parents said it was okay for the kids to play Ping-Pong while they themselves settled into their room. Coke grabbed paddles and Pep found a few balls in a trunk filled with board games and playing cards.

“Okay, volley for serve,” Coke said.

Neither of the twins was great at Ping-Pong, but both were decent, and they were evenly matched. Soon the little ball was zipping back and forth across the table. The score was 8–7 when Coke slammed a shot that she couldn't reach to his sister's backhand
side. As Pep went to chase down the ball, she heard something—a strange humming sound in the distance. She stopped to listen.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear
what
?”

“That sound,” Pep said. “It was humming or vibrating or something.”

“Probably an air conditioner,” Coke said. “My serve.”

“It came from over there,” Pep said, pointing to the trees behind the motel. “Come on, follow me.”

It was that strange time of day when it was starting to get dark on the ground but clouds could still be seen hanging in the sun's fading light. Still holding her paddle, Pep wandered toward the trees where she had heard the humming noise.

All was quiet except for a rustling in the trees. And then, suddenly, there was a louder vibration. Coke and Pep turned their heads to the left just in time to see this:

And then it was out of sight.

“Did you see
that
?” Coke asked. “What
was
it?”

“You think it was a—”

Pep never finished the sentence. Two powerful bluish beams of something—light? photons? energy?—came down from the sky directly overhead like spotlights, illuminating and enveloping the twins. When Coke and Pep tried to step away from the beams, something prevented them from moving their legs. They closed their eyes to shield them from the blinding light, but they could still see it through their eyelids. Pep reached out instinctively to take her brother's hand.

That's when their feet lifted up off the ground.

Wait! What? Did Coke and Pep just get abducted by aliens? I sure didn't see
that
coming. What happens now? Are they going to get sucked up into the alien spacecraft? What happens when their parents find they are missing? Will the twins be taken to the aliens' planet? What will the aliens do to them? Will Coke and Pep ever return to Earth? The answer is . . .

You'll just have to wait for
The Genius Files #5
to find out.

I'll tell you one thing, though. It's going to be a wild ride.