License to Thrill (18 page)

The screen of the slot machine had four squares on it. They spun vertically for a few seconds, and then stopped. Whether you won or lost depended on how many of the squares matched up.

When the squares stopped spinning, this is what was on the screen. . . .

“Isn't it supposed to be pictures of cherries and fruit and stuff like that?” Pep asked.

She looked at the screens of the slot machines on
either side. None of them had numbers.

No coins slid out on the tray at the bottom, but a few seconds later, a card slid out. It was the size of a business card. In fact, it
was
a business card. Pep gasped when she saw what was printed on it. . . .

DR. HERMAN WARSAW
INVENTOR/CONSULTANT/GENIUS

On the back of the card, handwritten in pencil, were five words. . . .

This is the last one

“That means 8980 is a cipher!” Pep shouted. “And it's the
last
one!”

The twins never made it to the pool. They went back to the room to try to figure out what it all meant.

CIPHER #1: MAY 28, 1937, VOLKSWAGEN IS FOUNDED

CIPHER #2: 49:08. 28:40.5

CIPHER #3: FIREWEED

CIPHER #4: BULLARD

CIPHER #5: 8980

It still didn't make sense. But very soon, it would.

“Y
ou kids missed all the
fun
!” Mrs. McDonald gushed when she got back to the hotel room.

She and Dr. McDonald proceeded to regale Coke and Pep with stories of their adventures visiting many of the oddball museums and attractions Las Vegas had to offer. Her only regret, she said, was that the Liberace Museum had closed several years earlier.

“So what did you two do while we were out?” asked Dr. McDonald.

“Nothing.”

Everybody got a good night's sleep, and after
checking out of the hotel in the morning, the family stuffed themselves at one of the many all-you-can-eat breakfast buffets found on the Strip.

Mrs. McDonald started grabbing snacks to munch on in the car, but the rest of the family convinced her that would be unethical—if not illegal—so she put everything back.

“It's all-you-can-
eat
, Mom,” Pep scolded her. “Not all-you-can-stuff-in-your-purse.”

Everybody had gorged themselves. It was hard to imagine being hungry after a Las Vegas buffet.

“I don't want to eat again for the rest of my life,” Coke said, rubbing his belly.

There are only a few roads heading west out of Las Vegas. Dr. McDonald pulled the Ferrari onto I-15, also known as the Mojave Freeway. In just twenty minutes, the bright lights and glitz of Las Vegas were completely gone and the hot, flat, wide-open spaces of arid Nevada were back. One couldn't help but wonder why human beings had chosen to build a strange playground in the middle of the desert for people to lose their money on slot machines and roulette wheels.

“I have an announcement to make,” Dr. McDonald
said shortly after leaving the city limits of Las Vegas.

“Uh-oh,” thought both twins. When their father had an announcement to make, it was usually not good news.

“I slept on it,” their father continued, “and after going to the Atomic Testing Museum yesterday, I've decided
not
to write that Trinity novel we talked about.”

“Why not, Dad?” Pep asked. “That would have been a cool story.”

“There are dozens of books about the first atomic test,” he explained. “The world doesn't need another one. I want to write something
totally
original.”

“Dad, you should write a novel about a guy who can't come up with an idea for a novel to write,” Coke suggested.

“It's been done.”

“So what are you going to write about, Dad?” Pep asked.

“I don't know,” Dr. McDonald replied. “I'll come up with something.”

Pep opened her notepad and turned to the page with the five ciphers they had received. She focused on the fifth one. It would be the last one, according to Dr. Warsaw's card.

8980

Numbers were harder to figure out than letters, Pep always found. And four digits didn't give her much to work with. It was obviously a very short message. The Internet wasn't much help. Pep borrowed her mother's laptop and searched for “8980,” but all that came up were a bunch of street addresses and model numbers for various products.

After staring at her notepad for a long time, Pep closed it with a sigh. She could work on it again later.

Everyone had settled in for a long drive, but just an hour and a half after leaving Las Vegas, this sign appeared at the side of the road. . . .

As if on cue, the whole family spontaneously burst into that old song—
“Cal-i-forn-ia here I come, right back where I started from . . .”

Everyone stopped right there, because nobody knew the next line of the song.

“Woo-hoo!” Coke shouted. “We're home, baby!”

Well, not exactly
home
. California is a big,
long
state. If you were to drive from the top to the bottom, it would be about eight hundred miles.

However, if they kept driving without a stop, the McDonalds could be home that very same day. It's only about three hours from the state line to Los Angeles, and after that it's a five-hour straight shot up I-5 to San Francisco. But just knowing that they were finally back in the state of California again made everyone
feel
like they were home.

When you think of Southern California, you probably think of the glamour of Los Angeles—beautiful movie stars, spectacular mansions, swimming pools, and crowded freeways. But here, right near the Nevada border, there was none of that. This part of California is desert, and some of the most unforgiving desolation in the world. If not for the water and electricity supplied by Hoover Dam, parts of Southern California would be virtually uninhabitable.

Mrs. McDonald dropped her Nevada guidebook in the trash. She didn't have one for California. Who buys a guidebook to their own state? She did, however, open her laptop so she could go on the internet
and see if the family would be passing by anything she could use in
Amazing but True
.

“Hey, guess what?” she said. “The world's largest thermometer is in Baker, California!”

Dr. McDonald rolled his eyes.

“Bridge,” he said delicately, “yesterday we went to the Houdini Museum, the Mob Museum, and the fake Statue of Liberty. How about we take a break today? Is it
really
crucially important for you to see the world's largest thermometer?”

“Yes!”

Dr. McDonald gritted his teeth and sighed. Once again, he knew he was going to be the one to give in. He had to. It was
Amazing but True
that paid for the whole vacation. That silly website earned a ridiculous amount of money. It was only fair for Mrs. McDonald to decide where they would go on the trip. This was another reason why he wanted to write a novel. If he could get on the bestseller list, he would be a more equal partner when it came to making these kinds of decisions.

“Oh, come on, Ben,” Mrs. McDonald said, more sweetly. “The world's largest thermometer is right on our way. We don't even have to get off the road.”

That was true. Less than 50 miles from the California state line, they reached the little town of Baker,
punctuated by gas stations and fast food joints.

“There it is!” Pep shouted, pointing at the distant structure sticking up out of the ground.

The world's largest thermometer is hard to miss. You can see it for miles around.

“Pull over, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald suddenly shouted. The thermometer was still several blocks away.

“What? Did I hit something?” Dr. McDonald yelled as he slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road into a parking lot.

He hadn't hit anything. But he had almost driven right past Baker, California's,
other
claim to fame, the Alien Fresh Jerky store!

“We've
got
to stop here,” said Mrs. McDonald.

It was irresistible. On the outside of Alien Fresh Jerky was a fake flying saucer and an alien sitting on top of a sign and waving a cowboy hat. On the inside was a mechanical alien fortune-teller, alien mugs, refrigerator magnets, and similar knickknacks. That, and “the best jerky in the universe,” of course.

“I wonder if Moe, Larry, and Curly have been here,” Pep whispered to her brother.

“They probably
own
the joint,” Coke whispered back.

Nobody was hungry after their big breakfast, but Mrs. McDonald bought a few strips of beef, gator, and turkey jerky for souvenirs. She took some notes and photos for
Amazing but True
, and then it was back in the Ferrari to drive to the giant thermometer, just past some palm trees down the road.

“So this is it, eh?” asked Dr. McDonald as he got out of the car.

The world's largest thermometer was, to be honest, a bit of a disappointment. Admittedly, it
is
large—134 feet tall and 76,812 pounds. But it isn't really a working thermometer. It's just a sign made to
look like
a thermometer.

“Man, it's hot out here,” Pep said, wiping her forehead.

“Yeah,” Coke replied, “too bad there isn't a thermometer around so we can know the temperature.”

“Very funny,” Mrs. McDonald said as she dutifully took photos and notes. The fans of
Amazing but True
would appreciate the world's largest thermometer, even if it wasn't a working thermometer.

Dr. McDonald noticed the words at the bottom of the thermometer, and they prompted him to pull out his road atlas.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “Did you know that Death Valley is less than two hours from here?”

“So?” Pep asked.