B.A.S.E. Camp by Rob Childs Read Free Book Online Page B

get enough of it,’ Adam said. ‘He’s hooked on the stuff.’
    â€˜Well, it
is
meant to be addictive. Where is your fat friend, anyway?’
    â€˜Probably goin’ round the tables, helpin’ himself to any leftovers,’ Adam chuckled.
    Gareth kept on with the questioning. ‘It can’t be just the juice, though,’ he said. ‘What other kind of
help
do you lot have at the Centre?’
    Jacko didn’t see the need to hide anything. ‘They gave me an injection at Easter,’ he said. ‘It’s supposed to help muscle growth and increase power. Seems to work, anyway. I’m loads fitter and faster than I used to be.’
    â€˜Doesn’t it wear off after a while?’
    â€˜Don’t think so – not for years. The muscles just keep on getting stronger.’
    Eddie nodded, satisfied that his suspicions about Young Taffy had been confirmed. ‘Explains how YT could run so quickly after 800 metres.’
    Jacko grinned. ‘Well, he
is
something of a special case of course. Y’know, with him being a clone, like.’
    â€˜Yeah, I still don’t really get that business,’ said Adam. ‘Is that kid just another version of Taffy Jones?’
    â€˜Not
just
another version. T3 is a sort of souped-up version – a de-luxe model, if you like. He’s not even dyslexic.’
    Eddie was startled by that fact, as much as by the use of the T3 code name for Young Taffy.
    â€˜There’s no cross for T3 on the island,’ he said, staring at Jacko. ‘Are the others for Taffy’s clones that didn’t survive?’
    Jacko shrugged but made no effort to deny it.
    â€˜I once read a science-fiction story about this kind of thing,’ said Gareth. ‘Scientists messed around with a cloned baby’s genes and created a monster.’
    â€˜Well, it’s science
fact
now. It’s called genetic engineering,’ Jacko told them. ‘YT isn’t a monster, but he sure is superhuman!’
    Munday
    Felte good to be back in traning today. I do’nt know how far we ran but even I was a bit tried by the end. Coach told us we’ll be haveing midweek races agenst some kids from a club in towne. Hope thay give us some good…
    Eddie was going to use the word competition but realised that he had no idea how to spell it. He decided to write contests instead.
    â€¦kontestes
.
    He put down his pen and closed his training diary with relief. He always found writing more tiring than running. He was also relieved – and surprised – that his gatecrashing of the raceseemed to have gone unpunished. His humiliation on the track still rankled, but at least he had run some of that disappointment out of his system today.
    Adam had not yet started his daily diary and his glass of juice remained untouched. He was still brooding over what Jacko had told them about Young Taffy – and the long-lasting effects of the injection to improve physical performance.
    â€˜Can’t be
that
bad for you,’ he mused, doodling on a piece of paper. ‘I mean, Jacko seems OK…’
    â€˜Fancy yourself as a bit of an artist, do you?’
    Adam jolted upright and realised that Blondie was peering over his shoulder at the design of an interwoven letter and number on the paper.
    â€˜Sorry, Coach,’ he mumbled. ‘Er… just thinkin’ what to put, like…’
    â€˜Looks like a T and a 3,’ Blondie said, raising his eyebrows. ‘What do they stand for?’
    Adam gave a shrug. ‘Don’t really know, Coach. Just doodlin’…’
    â€˜Right, well I suggest we get rid of that, Fox,’ he said, tearing the paper into shreds. ‘We don’t want other people wondering what they might mean, do we?’
    â€˜No, Coach,’ Adam agreed reluctantly.
    Gareth had been watching this little drama from across the table. ‘Guess he didn’t think much of your artwork,