Part 22 (2/2)

He's gonna make this wave his own; The Cowabunga, he'll ride home.”

Roger looked up at the wall of water. It was everywhere. The wave-to-end-all-waves rushed relentlessly forward, like Niagara Falls on wheels, leaving Roger small and pitiful before a curtain of water that was about to cover the world.

But wait! High up on that never-ending wave, did Roger see a patch of blue sky? Yes, the wave seemed to be breaking in half, the ramparts opening to allow Roger a chance to enter-to surf on in. And he was sure it was the song that had done it.

Now, though, how did he catch the wave and ride it? It only took him a second to decide-there was really no choice, after all-he would have to let the song do that as well. He stood on his board and screamed out another verse as the wave thundered to either side of him.

”Come on Roger, let's hear a shout, 'Cause he's one surfer that won't wipe out! Yeah, he's a fellow who'll be your fave, 'Cause here he goes to catch that wave!”

It wasn't great poetry, but it worked. He could feel the water swell underneath the board, lifting him up higher and higher on the face of the great wave.

He saw a flash of flesh color from the corner of his eye. Roger risked a glance behind.

It was the fellow they called the Mad Mumbler, balanced on his board, riding in Roger's wake-and he wasn't singing at all. Roger was impressed. That fellow could really surf!

Together, they reached the heights of the Cowabunga-munga. Roger broke through the spray and out of the great wave's shadow, into the sunlight high above the world.

Seagulls circled nearby, cheering him on with their cries. He was surfing with all the aplomb of Frankie Avalon! He couldn't believe it.

That's when one of his feet slipped. He fell to one knee.

Roger managed to crush the small seed that wanted to blossom into panic inside his chest. Panic was the very thing he could not do. He had had a moment of doubt, and it had almost broken the concentration he had built through song. He had to believe in what he was doing. It was crucial to his survival in the Cineverse!

Besides, he had other problems. He may have conquered the wave for the moment, but there was still the bomb. His other foot slipped ever so slightly as he thought about the red board beneath him, the one equipped with enough explosives to blow him up ten times over if he had too great an impact in the pounding surf, or-if he managed to stay alive that long-until the timer ran out! The villains had obviously considered everything-everything, that is, save Roger's penchant for song!

He glanced down at the timer, and saw there was only a minute left. This was it, then, his moment of musical truth. But he had to make sure no last-minute doubts crept in about his surfing. It wouldn't do him any good to defuse the bomb if he wiped out in the process. If he was to survive, that new verse would have to be a masterpiece of concentration and balance. He had to defuse the bomb while rea.s.serting his surfing prowess.

Slowly, but careful to maintain that all-important surfing beat, Roger began again: ”Now, some folks think Roger's a fool, Want him to lose this surfing duel!

But the bomb's a dud, it just can't last; It's Roger who's a surfing blast!”

He risked a glance down at his surfboard. The clock stopped. The wires sprang free and spiraled off into the foam The watertight tape loosened, and the dynamite was instantly sodden with salt.w.a.ter. The plastic explosive slipped beneath the sea. The song had worked, and Roger's conveyance had gone from bomb to board.

He tossed in another verse for good measure:”Hey this guy is really neat; He rides the waves with both his feet.

No one beats him on his turf!

So come on Roger, surf surf surf!”

Yeah! Roger laughed. He was really moving now. Wind in his hair, spray in his face.

One man against the elements, surfing his way to glory. That was the way it was supposed to be! He heard faint cheers from the beach ahead. The Cowabunga-munga had brought him considerably closer to his hero-wors.h.i.+pping throng. The surfers on sh.o.r.e had been transformed from flyspecks to fairly good-sized ants. Roger even thought he could recognize some of them as they rightfully cheered him in his great deed. That tall blond woman in the s.h.i.+ning evening dress-that was Delores!

Delores?

Wait a minute. He was no surfer fighting against the elements. The only great deed he was involved in was staying alive. He was buying into this whole surfing world again-this time a victim of his own surfing songs! Roger had to be careful. The use of power in the Cineverse seemed to be a tricky thing. One way or another, the more you invested in a world, the more you became a part of that place's reality.

A wave washed across his feet. Roger almost fell off the surfboard. Now he wasn't being positive enough! The demon doubt had almost done him in again.

”Turf, surf, wave, fave!” Roger chanted, feeling stronger with every rhyme. Somehow he regained his balance. Just as Doc walked a thin line between helpless sobriety and incapacitated inebriation if he wished to act at all, so Roger had to believe exactly enough to beat the wave without getting sucked into the surfer mystique.

”Neat, feet, last, blast!” he chanted. Yeah, he was surfing now! But he was Roger, from Earth, who had spent most of his adult life in public relations, who just happened to be surfing atop the biggest killer groovy monster wave that had ever existed!

He caught a familiar flash of color out of that same eye-corner. The Mumbler was getting closer. A moment later, he didn't even have to turn his head to see his rival surfer. The Mumbler, hunched forward on his board, was pa.s.sing Roger by!

Roger told himself it didn't matter. He wasn't going to buy into this surfing duel stuff, anyway. So the Mumbler reached the beach first-so what?

”Beach, reach,” Roger mumbled distractedly. ”Duel, fool.”

The Mumbler would reach the beach first? That would never do. It was only now that Roger realized how meaningless his life had been until this moment. Winning was everything! He would be the hero of the beach, his greatest triumph ever!

He had to keep up that surfing! And even more than before, he had to do it with music!

This time, when Roger started to sing, the wave seemed somehow quieter, as if out of respect.

”The Mad Mumbler better watch his skin, 'Cause this boy knows he's here to win.

Roger proves he ain't no faddy, He'll blow away this here ho-daddy!”

They could hear him on the beach! He could see them clapping along! He laughed as the Cowabunga-munga produced a special swell just beneath his board, propelling him swiftly past the leather-suited surfer. Without a song, the Mad Mumbler didn't have a chance!

Roger sang another verse to complete the musical justice: ”Roger's really goin' for that ride; The Cowabunga-munga's on his side!

Now we know that revenge is sweet, And Roger, he wins by twenty feet!”

Roger's board glided onto the beach a goodly distance before the Mumbler as the Cowabunga-munga retreated out to sea.

The surfers converged on him as he stepped from his board. Bix Bale and the Belltones led with a furious surfing beat as the song went on forever: ”Oh, Roger's proved that he's the best; He pa.s.sed the Cowabunga test; That guy can surf on anything; Yeah, he's now the surfer king!”

The surfers lifted Roger onto their shoulders and propelled him into the crowd. He saw the Mumbler surf safely into sh.o.r.e as he was raised aloft. Even the leather-suited challenger cheered Roger-in his usual indistinct fas.h.i.+on-as the celebration really began.

Roger looked down on the adoring ma.s.ses beneath him. He was king of the surfers.

Everyone was dancing. Roger's life was fulfilled.

Among those who danced by were people Roger recognized: Zabana, Prince of the Jungle; Officer O'Clanrahan; Dwight the Wonder Dog.

People who did more than surf.

There were other things to life besides surfing?

Roger felt himself distancing himself from those ever-present guitar chords as he shook off the surfing spell once more. The music could no longer hold him as he watched a conga line of Doctor Dread, Menge the Merciless, and Professor Peril.

Every one he recognized reminded him there was more at stake here than winning a surfing duel! He had to win the entire Cineverse!”Hey!” everybody shouted. Bif BOOM bif BOOM boom boom boom de boom, the drums replied.

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