License to Thrill (20 page)

“Don't do that, Bridge,” Dr. McDonald told her. “If you go to sleep you may never wake up.”

“I don't
want
to wake up,” she replied wearily. “I just want to sleep.”

As the afternoon wore on, the heat sapped what little strength was left in the McDonalds. They say Death Valley is so hot in the summer that you can fry an egg on a rock. That is, of course, if you had an egg. The McDonalds had nothing to eat, nothing to drink, and nowhere to go. A sense of gloom came over the family. Mrs. McDonald closed her eyes.

“I can't believe it,” Pep mumbled. “After everything that's happened to us on our trip,
this
is how we're going to die.”

“What do you mean?” her father asked. “What
else
happened to you on the trip?”

“What else?” Coke said, almost in a whisper now because his throat was so dry. “Remember when we went to that french fry demonstration at the first McDonald's in Illinois?”

“Yeah.”

“That kid who looked like Archie from the comics tried to kill us by throwing us into boiling oil.”

His father looked at him, incredulous.

“And remember the time we went to that amusement park in Ohio?” asked Pep.

“Yeah.”

“We were kidnapped on a roller coaster, tied up in a Mister Softee truck, and nearly frozen to death in ice cream.”

“We were trapped in a recording studio at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and forced to listen to heavy metal music so loud our heads almost exploded,” Coke told his father.

“We were kidnapped at the Museum of American History,” recalled Pep, “and locked in vapor cabinets in Hot Springs, Arkansas.”

“In Dallas, I was run over by two guys on motorcycles at the exact spot where President Kennedy was shot,” Coke said.

“Our bowling shoes were poisoned at the Bowling Hall of Fame,” said Pep, “and we were swarmed by flying bats under that bridge in Austin, Texas . . .”

“You mean to tell me that all those things actually
happened
to you?” Dr. McDonald asked. “Are you sure you're not hallucinating from the heat?”

“We're sure,” Coke replied. “We've been trying to
tell you about this stuff the whole trip. You wouldn't believe us.”

“I thought you were just joking.”

“It all happened, Dad,” Pep said, “and lots more stuff happened, too. I'm too tired to go into it all.”

“Wow,” Dr. McDonald said. “You're blowing my mind. Why did those people do all those horrible things to you?”

“It's a long story,” Coke said. “It doesn't matter now, Dad. It's all over.”

Dr. McDonald sobbed, putting an arm around each of his children.

“I'm a terrible father,” he said.

“No, Dad, you're great,” Pep said.

“You're the best father in the world,” Coke assured him.

“I just want you kids to know that your mother and I
really
tried to make this a special family vacation for you,” Dr. McDonald told them. “All I can say is I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you told us about all those things. I love you kids more than anything in the world.”

“We love you, too, Dad,” the twins replied, sobbing along with their father.

Having made their peace with each other, one by one the McDonalds dropped off to sleep, leaning
against the car and each other.

They would have stayed asleep, too, if not for the sound of an engine in the distance.

“What's that?” Dr. McDonald asked, shaking himself awake and struggling to his feet. “Is that a car?”

Coke and Pep stood up, too. There was
something
moving in the distance. But the view was fuzzy from the heat on the horizon.

“It may be a mirage,” Coke said. “That's what happens when people get stranded in the desert without water. They start seeing things that aren't there. It's wishful thinking.”

“It
is
a car!” Pep shouted, somehow managing to jump up and down with whatever energy she had left. “We're saved!”

An old blue minivan came into view and rolled to a stop next to them. There were peace signs painted on the side. The driver rolled down the window.

It was Mrs. Higgins.

O
f
all
the people in the world who could have driven down this particular desolate road at this particular moment in time, why did it
have
to be Mrs. Audrey Higgins?

She had set the twins' school on fire—while they were in it. She had chased them through The House on the Rock in Wisconsin. She had unleashed an angry mob of baseball fans on them in Illinois, blasted their eardrums at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Ohio, and poisoned their bowling shoes in Texas. She had changed personalities numerous times, and
most recently showed up as a kindly psychic named Aurora Moonbeam in Arizona. And now she was the only thing between the McDonald family and death at Death Valley.

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Higgins hollered. “Are you folks okay?”

Coke, Pep, and their father staggered toward the minivan like zombies in a horror movie. They could barely speak. Mrs. McDonald was still sitting on the ground, leaning against the Ferrari. She was too weak to stand.

At first, the twins didn't recognize Mrs. Higgins, who was wearing a sunhat and dark glasses, like any sensible person should while traveling through the desert.

She grabbed a jug of water from her minivan and started filling plastic cups. Coke, Pep, and Dr. McDonald guzzled gratefully and accepted seconds.

“Just let me die here,” Mrs. McDonald mumbled, her eyes still closed. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Mrs. Higgins poured water on Mrs. McDonald's head and forced her to drink. As a health teacher, she had extensive experience in first aid, and knew exactly what to do in situations of dehydration and heat stroke. Once the water touched her lips, Mrs. McDonald was revived somewhat and drank heartily, like the others.

“Let me pay you,” said Dr. McDonald, who was regaining his faculties. “I want to give you some money. . . .”

He fumbled with his wallet, but she pushed it away.

“Don't be silly,” Mrs. Higgins told him. “You don't recognize me, do you? We met at the Bauxite Museum in Arkansas.”

“Of course!” said Dr. McDonald. “You're the health teacher from school! It is so nice to see you again. What are you doing in this godforsaken place?”

“I'm on my way home, just like you,” Mrs. Higgins replied. “I got an email the other day. Construction at the new school is underway and they offered me my old job back.”

Coke and Pep looked at each other. They were hanging back, not sure if it would be wise to become involved with Mrs. Higgins again. Her blind love of Dr. Warsaw had caused her to do terrible things. But other times it appeared that she'd changed her ways. You never knew what you were going to get with her.

Dr. McDonald helped his wife to her feet and walked her around the area to get her blood pumping again. That left the twins alone with Mrs. Higgins, who handed each of them a protein bar from her purse. Ravenous, they tore off the wrappers and wolfed them down.

“Hop in!” she said, “I'll give you folks a lift back home.”

“Why are you being so nice to us?” Pep asked her. “You tried to kill us over and over again.”

“I told you, I changed,” Mrs. Higgins replied. “I
mean
it this time. When I finally realized that Dr. Warsaw would never love me, I decided to let go of him. I became a new woman. Even the worst people in the world are capable of changing, you know.”

“Even Dr. Warsaw?” Pep asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “But I fear that Herman is only going to change for the worse. He is mentally ill.”

The twins were still wary about getting into a car with this woman, who had exhibited psychotic behavior herself just days earlier.

“Fine,” said Mrs. Higgins cheerfully. “You can stay here if you'd like. The sun will be setting soon, and that will cool things off a bit. But then, of course, that's when the coyotes and mountain lions come out.”

Coke and Pep climbed into the car, taking the third row of seats. Mrs. Higgins helped Dr. McDonald transfer their luggage from the Ferrari into the minivan.

As the parents climbed into the second row of seats, Dr. McDonald hesitated.

“What about the Ferrari?” he asked.

“Forget the Ferrari, Ben!” Mrs. McDonald shouted
hoarsely. “We can deal with it later. Let's get out of here.”

Mrs. Higgins started up the minivan and turned the air-conditioning up full blast. As the cool air blew over them, the McDonalds gave a collective sigh of relief.

“We can't thank you enough,” Mrs. McDonald said. “You saved our lives.”

“I can't believe you folks came to Death Valley with no water and no food,” Mrs. Higgins said. “And it looks like you got a nasty sunburn there, Dr. McDonald. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn't,” he replied.

T
he drive from Death Valley to San Francisco was one of the longest stretches of the whole trip. Several national forests sit right in the middle, so it's necessary to drive a big loop around them. They would pass through Red Rock Canyon State Park and Bakersfield before connecting up with I-5, which goes almost directly to San Francisco. The trip would be over 500 miles.

Dr. McDonald was exhausted, but fortunately he didn't have to do the driving. Mrs. Higgins was happy to chauffeur, and the McDonalds insisted on paying
for gas and tolls. One by one the family dropped off to sleep. It had been a long, hard day.

Coke, Pep, and their parents slept the whole night until they were jostled awake at sunrise when the minivan was bumping over the hills and streets of San Francisco. As they drove down the Embarcadero on the waterfront, they caught their first familiar glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, six miles away. It is considered to be one of the most beautiful bridges in the world.

“We're almost home!” Pep said, stretching.

“Did you sleep well?” Mrs. Higgins asked. “You folks were
out
.”

“Like a baby,” said Dr. McDonald.

Mrs. McDonald noticed a California guidebook on
the floor between the two front seats.

“May I look at this?” she asked.

“Of course,” Mrs. Higgins replied.

“We're not stopping
anywhere
, Bridge,” said Dr. McDonald sternly. “Don't even
think
about it. No more museums. No more halls of fame. No more roadside tourist traps. We're going straight home now.”

“I just want to see what it says about the Golden Gate,” said Mrs. McDonald. “I've driven over this bridge so many times, but I really don't know much about it.”

In fact, the McDonalds had driven over
the Golden Gate Bridge at the start of their trip five weeks earlier. Mrs. McDonald leafed through the guidebook until she found the section about the bridge.

“Let's see. It says here that the Golden Gate opened on May 28, 1937 . . .”

“Nobody cares, Mom,” Pep shouted from the back.

“Wait a minute,” Coke said to his sister. “Did she say May 28, 1937? Open your notepad!”

Pep pulled out her notepad and flipped to the page where she had written all the ciphers.

“That's the first cipher!” Pep whispered excitedly to her brother. “Maybe May 28, 1937, doesn't have anything to do with Volkswagen at all! Maybe it's just a coincidence that the company started the same day the Golden Gate Bridge opened!”

“What else does that guidebook say about the bridge, Mom?” Coke asked.

“Let me see . . . ,” Mrs. McDonald said. “Oh, this is interesting. It tells the exact longitude and latitude for the bridge. It's north 37 degrees, 49 minutes, and 8 seconds. And it's west 122 degrees, 28 minutes, and 40.5 seconds.”

“That
is
interesting,” said Mrs. Higgins.

Coke and Pep looked at each other. Then they looked at the notepad.

“The second cipher!” Pep said. “The minutes and seconds didn't refer to a
time
! They referred to a
location
! The location of the Golden Gate Bridge!”

“Listen to this,” Mrs. McDonald went on. “It says here that they are constantly repainting the bridge. The paint is supplied by Sherwin Williams.”

“I used their paint on the garage last year,” Dr. McDonald said. “Does it mention what color they use? The bridge isn't gold. It's more like a reddish orange.”

“It says the color code is SW 6328,” said Mrs. McDonald. “It's called ‘Fireweed.'”