126-Racing to Disaster by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-07T15:15:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Tracking the Saboteur

"Whoa!" Frank cried out. He wrapped his fingers around the brakes and squeezed as if his life depended upon it - which it did!

The trail dead-ended in a clearing. Just beyond was the edge of the mountain. Frank felt his tires searching for a grip. He was close enough to the cliff to see that the fall would kill him.

"Eyahh!" he yelled. He gripped the brakes so hard he thought his fingers would fall off. The bike went into a skid and he struggled to keep it upright beneath him. Finally, his heart pounding, he felt the bike right itself and come to a stop. When his feet were back on solid ground, his hands started shaking, and he tried not to think about how close he'd come to a disastrous end. Instead, he turned the bike around as quickly as possible.

Just then several other racers barreled down the trail, nearly crashing into him.

"Stop," Frank cried, waving his hands. "It's a dead end!"

Two competitors plowed off the trail, narrowly avoiding Frank and the cliff. Another rider managed to brake in time, but the rider behind him crashed into the first one. They both went flying.

"What happened?" one of the racers asked Frank, removing his goggles.

"I'm not sure," said Frank. "But I'm going to find out." He got back on his bike and barreled back down the trail to where he'd taken the wrong turn. Just as he got there, Frank saw a lone figure with his hands on the trail marker, a bike nearby.

"Hey!" Frank called out. "What are you doing?"

The racer spotted Frank and hopped back on his bike, but not before Frank got a good enough look at him to realize the guy had dark curly hair. And he was wearing Rich Alexander's trademark neon blue and green goggles! Even though his helmet didn't have the distinctive Apex logo, Frank was sure - from the build and the hair - that the racer was Alexander.

"Hold it right there!" Frank shouted.

But Alexander wasn't sticking around to answer any questions. He tore off through the woods to the left, leaving Frank in the dust.

"You're not getting away this easily," Frank said through gritted teeth.

Alexander had gone off trail, and Frank struggled to keep up with him as Alexander led him deeper into the woods. Pine branches slapped at his face, the forest bumped beneath him. Up ahead, Alexander, a much better rider, was getting farther and farther away.

Finally, after a steep descent, Frank came to a ravine. "How on earth?" he wondered aloud. There didn't seem to be any way to cross the fast-moving water except to carry the bike on his shoulders and wade through.

Frank hoisted his bike on his shoulder and stepped into the river. The shock of cold water made him cringe. Soon he was up to his waist, but he pressed on. The moment he was on the other side of the ravine, Frank hopped back on his bike and started to climb up the other side.

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