Though no one on the construction crew knew it, the first one to ride O’Grady’s Wild Flume Chase was Grakk — a 4-pound, jet-black raven. I watched from a distance as he landed on the padded seat, pecked around for a few moments as the hollowed-out log made its way to the top of the first huge hill. He settled into a corner of the seat and looked up, down, left and right, ensuring he was in the best possible spot.

The crossbar was in the upright position. There’d been no one to pull it down for him, and even if there were, a bird would be shooed away and certainly not allowed to enjoy itself on one of the park’s biggest rides. These were only test runs of the logs themselves. They’d been running continuously for the past half hour so the engineers below could inspect everything about the ride while it was in motion. The engineers were all in white hardhats, some in groups, some alone, and they spread themselves underneath the chutes and curves and drops, taking notes and visually inspecting every inch of steel that stretched up into the sky. It was close to opening day, and there could be no mistakes. There would be no mistakes. The residents of Copper Summit at least deserved that.

The log reached the top of the flume, and I could barely see the raven against the black vinyl seat. But his feathers reflected the sunlight as he turned his head, with a bright, turquoise prism of color. His eye sparkled and he flapped his wings as the log descended into its first drop.

“Grakk! Grakkgrakkgrakk…”

I could hear his exclamation from a few hundred yards away. I didn’t know if he was prepared for it or not. He did seem surprised. 

My name is Beckett Buckleberry, and I’m the town’s only black cat detective. From what I hear, there is a dog of some type that takes cases occasionally, but he works on the streets and doesn’t have a home office. Unprofessional, and a bit tasteless, if you ask me.

I was on a hill overlooking the final days of construction of Copper Summit Station — the state’s largest theme park. When the town of Copper Summit came into a very large sum of money, many months ago, it was decided that building a state-of-the-art theme park within a few miles of town would not only encourage more tourism but would be a great source of employment and entertainment for the entire community. And so far, it had been. With the creation of Copper Summit Station, Courtland County had brought in people from all over the country, and even some from overseas. Businesses boomed. Restaurants were suddenly filled. Vacation rentals were booked a year out. Property values rose. People were happy.

Grakk cackled as his log whipped around a tight curve. He could see the drop in the distance, and he hopped from one foot to the next. 

O’Grady’s Wild Flume Chase was the only double-flume ride in existence. The tracks ran parallel to each other. Which meant, depending on the position and weight of the people in each log, a different outcome would occur every single time. If you happened to be on the winning flume you were given a ticket for a free drink anywhere in the park. It was an extremely inexpensive investment and was expected to be a huge hit.

Grakk squawked again as the log barrelled down a steeper ten yard long drop, with a small splash. He ruffled his feathers and stamped his feet on the soft seat cushion. The big drop was next.

“So how does everything look, Inspector?” I turned my head. It was Tabitha, the Copper Summit Police Department cat. And my girlfriend. She was right on time for our impromptu picnic. She pawed her way toward me, through the fresh grass, looking out over the ridge.

“Everything is amazing… I mean… look!” I spread my arm out into the air. It was something out of a kid’s dream. There were acres and acres of rides — rollercoasters, a Ferris wheel, a 330-foot lookout tower, massive buildings that housed dark rides and shows, sound stages, water rides, and kids rides throughout the park. There were shooting galleries and shops that sold cowboy hats and six-shooters, ice cream stands and an Old West town at the entrance that had hourly shoot-outs between valiant sheriffs and masked robbers. And in the center of it all was Fort Independence, a forty- foot tall, two-story wooden citadel made of huge Eastern red cedar timbers, pointed on the ends. It was impressive even from hundreds of yards away. I couldn’t imagine how big it would look from inside the park. On each corner of the old fort were American flags with 36 stars each — the number of states that existed by the end of the Civil War. From there, guests could disperse to all the different areas of Copper Summit Station.

Fort Independence housed a grand western-themed restaurant in the glass-covered atrium called The Outpost, as well as several shops along the edges and a walk-through exhibit of the history of this area of North Carolina. There was a massive 3D model of the park on display as well, so families could plan their day, or just gaze in amazement at the park’s undertaking.

“Tabs. Watch.” I pointed to Grakk, and it took her a moment to focus in on what she was seeing.

“Is that…” she started.

“It is.”

Grakk’s log paused at the top of the long drop, and he cawed out. I knew Grakk. He was excited.

As the log finally tipped, the raven let out a long screech as it rushed down the flume, gaining speed until it smashed into the water below, a geyser of water rising thirty feet into the air. We could hear Grakk’s cawing over the explosion of water, and heard something else as well — the caws of a thousand crows surrounding us, cheering Grakk on, laughing and chirping at his courage and daring. Grakk flew off into the air, through the droplets of water that continued to rain all around him...