Masters of Disaster Read online

  “Wait a minute.” Reed shook his head as Henry’s idea continued to slowly sink in. “Are we absolutely positive that driving a bike off a roof is the best way to break a record?”

  “Yep, off that roof.” Henry pointed at the Batsons’ house and nodded approvingly. The house was three stories high with a sharply peaked roof and reminded Reed of a castle. An ugly old castle where bad things happened to boys who let themselves get talked into doing stupid things just to get their stupid name in a stupid record book.

  Henry pulled the key out of his pocket and led Reed and Riley to the back door. Reed’s knees were trembling so hard that Henry and Riley had to carry his bike up the stairs while he remained glued to the kitchen floor. They left the bike near the window in the attic and jogged back downstairs to pry Reed’s hands off the back door. While Henry pushed and Riley pulled the rigid Reed up the stairs, Henry chatted encouragingly to Reed. “C’mon, open your eyes. Just one more flight. You can do this. Let go of the railing. Look—almost there. It’s going to be a piece of cake, you’ll see. I can’t feel my arm because you’re holding on so tight you’re cutting off the circulation. It’ll be over so fast you’ll want to do it again. Trust me, buddy.”

  It took some convincing to keep Reed moving, but there was no need to use a tranquilizer gun and throw him over their shoulders (even though Henry had that option in his plans, just in case). They finally got Reed up to the Batsons’ roof and shoved him out the window. Riley stood next to him, holding a handful of Reed’s shirt so he wouldn’t make a run for it or fall, while Henry ran downstairs and carried the boxes from the red wagon upstairs.

  Reed refused to open his eyes, much less help, so Henry and Riley had to dress him. Henry had raided his garage of every piece of athletic protection his father, a PE instructor, had collected over the years. They forced the football pads over Reed’s head and tied the laces snug across his chest. Henry wedged a mouth guard between Reed’s clenched teeth as Riley strapped soccer shin pads on Reed’s lower legs. They threw a quick game of scissors/paper/rock to figure out who had to shove the cup down the front of Reed’s football pants.

  After Henry and Riley had dressed Reed in all the protective gear they had, they sat him on his bike, slapped a hockey goalie’s helmet on and adjusted the band on the goggles. Reed started to scream when Henry tried to tie the bandana around his eyes, so, sadly, they decided against adding the blindfold to the stunt. It was okay, though, Henry figured, because Reed had his eyes shut tight. Riley, who had a first-aid kit poking out of his backpack because he believed in always being prepared, began wrapping Reed’s hands to the handlebars with an Ace bandage.

  “Let’s do this!” Henry slapped Reed’s back.

  “No. I really don’t want to. You know, all things considered. It’s a whole lot of altitude.”

  “Reed,” Riley said. “You’re forgetting it will be your name in the record book. You’re the one who will be famous. You’re the one who’ll have all the girls thinking you’re really cool.”

  “Well, when you put it that way … But still, it’s a heck of a long way down and I think—”

  “Go!” Henry shoved Reed from behind.

  The bike tottered from the impact, and for a second, Henry thought Reed would skid down the roof on his side, thereby ruining the entire project. But Reed’s instincts for self-preservation kicked in—he regained his balance and righted the bike as momentum took over and he began hurtling down the roof.

  Riley noted the time and wrote it down.

  At the instant Reed hit the bottom edge of the roof he was moving at something approaching terminal velocity, which Henry had researched and discovered was about 120 miles an hour for a falling body. The bearings on the bike were nearly smoking. At this point, Henry was glad he’d abandoned the idea of shaving Reed’s head and greasing it with petroleum jelly to reduce friction. It probably wouldn’t have increased the speed much, and Reed would have objected more. Henry glanced down at his list and made an X through VASELINE ON BALD HEAD.

  Reed flew off the roof and seemed to hover in midair for an astonishingly long time, even though Riley only counted to two-Mississippi in his head. Reed’s eyes were still screwed shut, so he didn’t see Henry grinning and flashing him a thumbs-up, or Riley, who was wishing he’d brought his video camera.

  “Noooooooooooooooooooooo!” Reed howled as he dropped out of sight.

  Five Mississippies later, as Henry and Riley were scrambling to the edge of the roof to look down over the yard, Reed reappeared in front of them, much higher than the edge of the roof.

  Amazingly, Reed had hit the diving board perfectly in the center, and the force of the impact had snap-propelled him and the bike back up in the air. (“About,” Riley wrote later in his project summary, “like someone flicking a booger off a finger.”)

  Reed dropped like a stone before Henry or Riley could say anything, and they saw him plummet toward the ground for the second time. This time they heard the scream as he dropped: “Call 9-1-1!”

  Although the first landing was picture perfect, on the next bounce Reed was leaning slightly to his left and the bike shot out sideways due to the force and angle of the impact. He’d have fallen off the bike if not for the Ace bandage binding him to the handlebars. The bike skidded on the diving board and ricocheted off at a forty-five-degree angle, aiming Reed at the back alley. The speed was more than Henry had ever hoped for.

  Reed flew headfirst into a collection of plastic garbage cans, dragging the bike behind him, crashing through two trash bags full of used disposable diapers.

  Which didn’t slow him down at all.

  Reed seemed to pick up speed as he hit almost everything else along the side of the Batsons’ alley for the next half block. He hammered two more garbage cans, avoided mowing down Mrs. Hooperman’s cockapoo by a good four and a half inches, and after a carom off the Kleins’ garage, exploded into a classic parabolic projectile curve, during which he did one full and complete, perfect forward somersault, before coming to rest sitting against a rusted-out Chevy half-ton truck, a disposable diaper covering his head and face.

  In a voice muffled by the diaper and its contents, most of which was oozing down his neck, he called out to Henry and Riley: “Man, that would have been soooo bad without a helmet.”

  “You know, Riley, I don’t think the extreme bike people are going to acknowledge the record without objective witnesses or some kind of photograph or video proof,” Henry said as they climbed back up the roof to the window. “Video! I should have thought of that before Reed took off on the bike. Plus, we’d have to be able to prove the actual height Reed achieved, even though I’m dead certain it was way over the forty-seven feet I estimated.”

  “Don’t feel bad, Henry,” Riley said. “Look at this as a test run for future events—now we know we need cameras to document and authenticate what we do. But I bet we can get the plans for the house at the county assessor’s office and determine the exact height of the roof anyway.”

  “I think,” Henry mused aloud as they headed down the stairs and out the back door, “that given the height of the first bounce and even allowing for the fact that the back tire slipped the second time, torquing the landing, and despite the fact that we can’t prove we broke a record, the project was a complete success.”

  “Yep,” Riley answered as he cut the Ace bandage and released Reed from the bike.

  They pulled Reed away from the scattered garbage.

  “Amazing, man, you were brilliant,” Henry said.

  “Bad break to have nailed those diapers, buddy,” Riley said to Reed. Then he turned to Henry. “I’m going to need your plans, Henry, for my report.”

  “Sure thing.” Henry nodded. “Let’s hose Reed off—I forgot that the Batsons have a new baby—and go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “How’d I do?” Reed asked. Even though his hands had been freed, he made no move to take the diaper off his face. “Did we get the record? It felt like we
got the record. I mean, it’s all a blur, and while I don’t mean to complain, I can’t see anything, and I was just wondering if that was a side effect of the altitude, like when you get dizzy when you go skiing in Colorado.”

  Henry gently pulled the diaper off Reed’s head. “Yeah, Reed, you shattered that record all over the place. Good job, buddy. You were beyond awesome—that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, and you handled the whole thing like a professional stuntman or daredevil. Seems like maybe you were born for adventure.”

  “You know, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Right after my life flashed before my eyes and just before everything started smelling like doody. Why does everything smell like doody?” Reed looked at their leader.

  “That,” Henry said, “is the smell of victory. The Wonderful Smell of Victory.”

  3

  Wildlife in the Woods

  “All right, men, here’s the next plan.” Henry reached into his locker after third period and pulled out a yellow legal pad. He cleared his throat and started reading to Reed and Riley.

  “Because it’s Friday, we head for the bush directly after school this afternoon and we don’t come back until Sunday—two days living by our wits. We don’t bring anything but the clothes we’re wearing—no food, no matches, no shelter: nothing. I found the perfect spot on the map, it’s in the woods by where the railroad bridge crosses the river. It’s totally deserted.”

  “Today? Like in four hours when school gets out?” Reed, who had been leaning against the wall, slipped to a sitting position on the floor.

  Henry nodded. “Spontaneity. Adds excitement to the event.”

  Reed shook his head. “I still smell doody from the bike jump last week. It’s like it’s in my pores.”

  “Maybe you still smell it, but you don’t reek—that fifteenth shower, I think, did the trick—so that means we’re ready for the second plan. Plus, this may well be the Greatest Idea a Young Male Has Ever Conceived and Executed since great ideas started to be kept track of.”

  Riley was only half listening as he mentally tabulated the essentials he had in his backpack—his first-aid kit, seven dollars and eighty-nine cents in loose change, a ball of twine, a Swiss Army knife, a roll of duct tape, a small radio, his old walkie-talkies, extra batteries and his last will and testament. He hadn’t known of Henry’s camping trip, of course; this was standard gear he never left the house without because he believed in always being prepared. For any eventuality.

  “Here’s the plan,” Henry said. “We head into the bush down on the river, and for two days we make shelter, we find food, we live as one with the great outdoors, just like our pioneer, um, what’s that word? Forefathers. Is this a great idea or what?”

  “Wait, wait.” Reed tried once more. “How about if the idea of wilderness is more like camping in the backyard? And it’s okay to go inside and watch TV, eat Twinkies, use the bathroom? Maybe even sleep in the house when it gets dark and cold or the bugs come out? That seems more ‘us’ than the woods and no-supplies thing.”

  “What sounds like you, sissy boys, is going shopping at the mall with my little sister for training bras and lip gloss.” Dwight Hauser had been lurking around the corner, eavesdropping. He had three of his mindless goons with him.

  “Hello, Dwight,” Henry said. “Listening in on other people’s conversations again? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “You mean like you guys? Playing camp in the woods? You’ll last twelve minutes before Reed here pees himself and Riley walks into a tree because he’s got his head stuck in a book. Dweebs and brainiacs and whatever it is you are, Mosley, can’t handle the outdoors.”

  “Thanks for your feedback, Hauser—we needed the input of a moron. Run along now and take your sycophants with you. That means ‘brainless followers,’ by the way,” Riley said, leading Reed and Henry down the hall and out the door.

  “Nice one, Riley. You have the greatest vocabulary,” Henry said.

  “Did you see how confused they looked when Riley called them sicko-whatsits?” Reed was practically bouncing with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like that since first grade when Dwight told me the paste pot was full of cake frosting. I’ll show him I can camp outside. What do you think, Riley?”

  “I want to see what happens. I’m in.”

  “It’s unanimous!” Henry beamed. “We’ll head to the woods immediately after school. The great thing is—no preparation necessary. This is probably the easiest plan I’ve ever come up with. Oh, wait! Reed, call home and tell your folks you’re sleeping at Riley’s. Riley, tell your folks you’re staying at my place. And I’ll tell my parents I’m at Reed’s.”

  Reed and Riley both nodded; Reed’s house was so full of girls he wouldn’t be missed, and although Riley was an only child, his parents were always happy when he was out with his friends instead of sitting in his room with a book. Henry’s parents breathed a little easier and slept a little deeper when they didn’t have to worry about what plans he was concocting under their roof—ever since the vinegar and baking soda incident in the garage that had forced Henry’s parents to call the police hazmat teams and park their cars in the driveway for a whole summer.

  Henry smiled through the rest of his classes, daydreaming about campfires, and lean-tos made of sticks and leaves and dried mud. Reed went to the restroom twelve times and wondered: Could you possibly get frostbite in May? Riley spent the afternoon free period in the library researching native nuts and berries that were safe to eat and brushing up on his recognition of poison oak and poison ivy.

  They met up under the flagpole after the final bell rang and started walking toward the edge of town. No one talked very much. Gradually the residential neighborhoods turned into run-down industrial complexes, and then they found the rail yard. After checking his map, Henry pointed them toward a rail line that ran away into the woods.

  “Why is it so dark? Is it always so dark in the wilderness?” Reed said as the sun started to dip below the horizon. He stumbled on a rock, a root or a poisonous snake. He wasn’t sure which. Just in case, he jumped about six feet straight up. “I’ve never seen so much darkness, even when I close my eyes at night. But that’s probably because Amy, my second-littlest sister, is so afraid of the dark that we leave the bathroom light on. And the light in the hall. And the one on the stairway. So it’s never, you know, ever really dark at my house.”

  “You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” Riley said.

  “It took a lot longer to get here than I thought,” Henry finally admitted. “But anyone can set up a camp in the daylight with gear; it’s really something to be out here with nothing in the dark. We need to find a campsite quick, though, before things start to go wrong. Not that I think they will, of course. I have a gut feeling that everything is going to work out for us this weekend.”

  There was an enormous splash followed by a sputtering scream, then a gurgle and the sound of a bunch of brush breaking and, finally, a thump as if something large and wet had dropped from a great height into thick mud.

  “I found the river,” Reed called.

  “Good,” Henry said. “Now we know we aren’t going to die of thirst.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the most sanitary suggestion,” Riley pointed out. “Do you know what Connor Howes did in this river after he drank eighteen sodas during the Scout camp-out last year?”

  “Too late,” Reed said from the darkness. “I’ve already swallowed about a gallon. So I don’t want to hear any more about Connor and the river of pee.”

  “Oh, come on, men,” Henry said. “This isn’t so rough. It’s not like there are bears and moose and mosquitoes and other things that want to eat us. We’re out here in the tame woods where nothing can go wro—”

  He was interrupted by a deep, coughing, gacking, growly sound that seemed to shake the leaves on the trees.

  Even Henry was silent. Then Reed, who had squelched back to his friends by following the sound of Henry’s voi
ce, leaned in and whispered, “What was that?”

  “Probably some kind of night bird. Yeah. I saw a video where night birds sounded just exactly like that. So I’ll bet that was it, then. A night bird. Just a bird. A small, vegetarian bird who won’t swoop too close to us or rake us with her talons or carry us back to the nest in her beak to feed, alive and squirming, to her babies.”

  There was a second coughing growl, much closer, and within an instant, an insane laugh.

  “I smell doody again,” Reed said. “Brand-new, though, and right behind me. Like it’s following me.”

  They heard another frightening laugh, followed by a bone-rattling howl. A high-pitched shriek made them jump and then a cataclysmic whoosh roared through the darkness as something huge splashed in the river.

  At this precise instant, Riley decided to pull out the small penlight he had taped to his leg for emergencies. It wasn’t that he was afraid, although he worried that certain of his bodily functions were coming close to being uncontrollable; rather, he just wanted to know why night birds would seem so (a) loud, (b) big and (c) plentiful. In some measure he would, for the rest of his life and especially during REM sleep after he’d had too much sugar or caffeine, regret this decision.

  He turned the light on and the three boys found themselves looking at a full-size Bengal tiger. Standing 3.6 feet away.

  Riley flicked the light off.

  He counted to three, took a deep breath, prayed for a night bird and turned the light back on.

  The tiger stood motionless for a moment before opening his mouth and baring teeth that looked a yard long.

  Before Reed could even whimper, something waist high and covered with stinking hair poked him in the back, whuffled a loud chuckling sound, grabbed him by the seat of the pants and headed off through the undergrowth, dragging him along by his back pocket.

  “Call 9-1-1!”

  Riley and Henry couldn’t even turn to watch Reed disappear into the brush. They stood frozen, staring at the tiger. He stared back at them.