scrambled eggs off his plastic tray and placed them symmetrically on the table, banana pointing north, yogurt positioned at ten oâclock next to the plate. Morgan, who hadnât bothered to remove his plate from the tray, was already digging into his stack of pancakes drowned with syrup. For a skinny kid, he sure could put away the pancakes.
Olivia sipped her coffee, then gave him a forced smile. âMorgan, I woke up last night thinking about something you said earlier. It was about the pellets and the shotguns. How do you know so much about this?â
âI told you, my friend, Snipe. Heâs the one who introduced me to Splatterfest II,â Morgan answered around a mouthful of pancake. âThat game is serious eye candy, with the most fluid graphics in the world of CGI. Itâs been around for a while, but in this new version the texture quality is better, the frame rate has been upped, and the integration between real-time polygons and CGI is awesome. I admit, you could maybe say the designers programmed elements from the entire RPG genre, but it still has plenty of new stuff, too.â
Jack hadnât a clue what all that meant, but he didnât want to seem stupid in front of Morgan. âRPG?â he asked hesitantly. âRed, purple, green? I thoughtâuhâarenât images made from RGB? Red, green, blue?â
Morgan stopped chewing to give Jack a pitying look. âRPG means ârole-playing game.ââ
âI knew that,â Jack said quickly.
Olivia carefully set down her mug. âBack to my shotgun question; did you learn about pellets from this Splatterfest game?â
âNah. Splatterfestâs all high-tech weaponry. I guess I learned the low-tech stuff from following the Predator Hunt. Snipeâs into that real big.â
âPredator Hunt?â
âYou havenât heard of it? I thought you were an animal guru. The hunt is like Splatterfest, only the targets are real critters. Too grim for me, but Snipeâs a follower.â
Olivia took a breath and released it between her teeth. âMorgan, I have a favor to ask,â she said. âI need you to contact your friend Spike.â
âSnipe,â Morgan answered.
âRight. Snipe. Could you reach Snipe for me? Iâm trying to unravel the pellet mystery, specifically how theyâre used in shotgun shells, but none of the park people hunt. Would Snipe discuss it, do you think?â
âIf I tell him to.â Morgan dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. âWhat would be even better is getting you right on the hunt Web site. Snipe showed it to me. Start there.â
âThank you, Morgan.â
âNot a problem. Iâd like to point out that no matter what people say, everyone eventually comes to the geeks. We rule.â
Back at the motel, it took Morgan only a moment to tap into the Predator Hunt Web site, while Steven, Ashley, Olivia and Jack crowded around to watch.
âHere it is,â Morgan announced, triumphant. The blue screen announced, in big, bold letters,
ANNUAL VARMINT HUNT.
CASH-FOR-CARCASSES CONTEST.
KILL A BUNCH OF PREDATORS AND HELP WILDLIFE.
FIRST PRIZE $50,000.
Beneath these words were pictures of a fox, a coyote, a bobcat, and a mountain lion.
Next to the pictures of the animals was a list of points: 100 for killing a mountain lion; 50 for a bobcat; 25 for a coyote; and 10 for a fox. Printed instructions said hunters were supposed to shoot as many of these creatures as they could within a 24-hour period, then bring the dead animals to a checkpoint, where the bodies could be counted. The huntersâ scores would be verified, with prizes awarded to those with the highest scores.
âI canât believe this,â Olivia cried, turning bright red with anger. âThis is not huntingâitâs murder! What kind of friends do you have, Morgan?â
âTake it easy,â Steven told her.
âYou say Snipe