added. “In any case, I doubt that the prescription has just been lying on the floor for the last day, waiting for someone to find it.”
Frank laughed. “Yeah. I think we can rule that out.”
The competitions continued after lunch. The number of contestants in Warehouse Rumble was shrinking, due to elimination during the game and some contestants choosing to drop out because of the continuing accidents. As semifinals drew near, the competition became even more fierce.
The new alliance of Lily and Bo only grew stronger. Amazingly, Jay—playing solo—squeaked through his afternoon challenge. Chet and Daphne also survived—though barely.
“Chet fell in the water, but I managed to cross the finish line before anyone from the other team did,” Daphne confided to Frank and Joe.
Chet smiled sheepishly and toweled the water from his hair. “Hey, I said I had catlike reflexes—not catlike balance.”
The Hardys’ afternoon challenge involved retrieving clues from a course using remote-control cars and then using them to solve a puzzle. The bodies ofthe cars had been modified so that each resembled a giant insect. The effect was fairly comical, though the brothers admitted that it might look good on TV.
“If this show doesn’t become a hit as is, maybe they can spin it off as Battle Bugs or something,” Joe joked between rounds as technicians serviced the bug-cars.
“‘The mutant mania of the future that everyone with three eyes is talking about,’” suggested Chet. He and Daphne had come to watch the Hardys’ event, since their own had already finished. “‘Go buggy or bug off!’”
“You could have been an ad writer, Chet,” Frank said.
“I may be,” Chet replied. “After Daphne and I win this competition, of course.”
“Of course,” Daphne said with a smile.
“Unless we beat you to it,” Joe said.
“Of course,” added Frank.
Once the technicians had finished preparing the remote-controlled mutants, he and Joe returned to the contest. They managed to squeak out a win, though their opponents nearly completed the puzzle first. Fortunately the Hardys’ competitors misread a critical clue, and the brothers surged ahead of them at the last minute.
As Frank, Joe, and their friends headed to check on their next challenges, they heard one of the technicians say, “Great TV.”
“Yeah,” Chet said. “You guys did good.”
Frank nodded wearily. “I’m beginning to feel it, though.”
“With the obstacles we’ve had,” Joe said, “I feel like we’ve done twice the number of games as everyone else.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Look at these two,” Daphne said. “You’d think they’d just run a mile.”
“Five miles,” Chet said.
“Brain work can work up a sweat too,” Frank said.
“Time to refuel, I think,” said Joe.
Within a few minutes they’d reached the refreshment area. The brothers felt relieved that most of the other contestants looked just as bushed as they did. Lily and Bo seemed equally tired. Jay looked utterly exhausted.
“Too worn out to hassle us, I hope,” Joe said.
As the four friends sat down in folding chairs on one side of the break area, the warehouse doors suddenly opened and Con Riley walked in. He was followed by a small contingent of police officers, and a slender older woman with silver hair twisted up into a bun.
“Where is it?” the woman whispered harshly to Riley. “Do you know who has it?”
“Take it easy, Ms. Forbeck,” Con Riley replied. “We have protocols to follow.”
In the wake of the police came Stacia Allen and her cameraman, camera rolling and microphone ready.
Spotting the reporters, Ward Willingham moved to cut them off. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Ms. Allen is no longer welcome on my set. Officer, would you please ask her to leave?” The producer was clearly struggling to keep his temper under control.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Willingham,” Con Riley
Frank laughed. “Yeah. I think we can rule that out.”
The competitions continued after lunch. The number of contestants in Warehouse Rumble was shrinking, due to elimination during the game and some contestants choosing to drop out because of the continuing accidents. As semifinals drew near, the competition became even more fierce.
The new alliance of Lily and Bo only grew stronger. Amazingly, Jay—playing solo—squeaked through his afternoon challenge. Chet and Daphne also survived—though barely.
“Chet fell in the water, but I managed to cross the finish line before anyone from the other team did,” Daphne confided to Frank and Joe.
Chet smiled sheepishly and toweled the water from his hair. “Hey, I said I had catlike reflexes—not catlike balance.”
The Hardys’ afternoon challenge involved retrieving clues from a course using remote-control cars and then using them to solve a puzzle. The bodies ofthe cars had been modified so that each resembled a giant insect. The effect was fairly comical, though the brothers admitted that it might look good on TV.
“If this show doesn’t become a hit as is, maybe they can spin it off as Battle Bugs or something,” Joe joked between rounds as technicians serviced the bug-cars.
“‘The mutant mania of the future that everyone with three eyes is talking about,’” suggested Chet. He and Daphne had come to watch the Hardys’ event, since their own had already finished. “‘Go buggy or bug off!’”
“You could have been an ad writer, Chet,” Frank said.
“I may be,” Chet replied. “After Daphne and I win this competition, of course.”
“Of course,” Daphne said with a smile.
“Unless we beat you to it,” Joe said.
“Of course,” added Frank.
Once the technicians had finished preparing the remote-controlled mutants, he and Joe returned to the contest. They managed to squeak out a win, though their opponents nearly completed the puzzle first. Fortunately the Hardys’ competitors misread a critical clue, and the brothers surged ahead of them at the last minute.
As Frank, Joe, and their friends headed to check on their next challenges, they heard one of the technicians say, “Great TV.”
“Yeah,” Chet said. “You guys did good.”
Frank nodded wearily. “I’m beginning to feel it, though.”
“With the obstacles we’ve had,” Joe said, “I feel like we’ve done twice the number of games as everyone else.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Look at these two,” Daphne said. “You’d think they’d just run a mile.”
“Five miles,” Chet said.
“Brain work can work up a sweat too,” Frank said.
“Time to refuel, I think,” said Joe.
Within a few minutes they’d reached the refreshment area. The brothers felt relieved that most of the other contestants looked just as bushed as they did. Lily and Bo seemed equally tired. Jay looked utterly exhausted.
“Too worn out to hassle us, I hope,” Joe said.
As the four friends sat down in folding chairs on one side of the break area, the warehouse doors suddenly opened and Con Riley walked in. He was followed by a small contingent of police officers, and a slender older woman with silver hair twisted up into a bun.
“Where is it?” the woman whispered harshly to Riley. “Do you know who has it?”
“Take it easy, Ms. Forbeck,” Con Riley replied. “We have protocols to follow.”
In the wake of the police came Stacia Allen and her cameraman, camera rolling and microphone ready.
Spotting the reporters, Ward Willingham moved to cut them off. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Ms. Allen is no longer welcome on my set. Officer, would you please ask her to leave?” The producer was clearly struggling to keep his temper under control.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Willingham,” Con Riley
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