Candy Shop War (37 page)

Jogging along Winding Way, Nate went over his plan in his mind. It had not taken him long to determine that soliciting help from Mr. Stott was his best option. Nate had betrayed the old magician by turning to John Dart, but Mr. Stott still didn’t want Mrs. White to get the treasure, and he had a vehicle. So, hopefully, after Nate brought him up to speed, all would be forgiven and they could chase down Gary Haag together. Even if it meant Mr. Stott ended up drinking water from the Fountain of Youth, that would be preferable to empowering Mrs. White. Unfortunately, Nate had left the cell phone in the Buick, or he could simply have telephoned.

Nate had considered using a Moon Rock to reach Mr. Stott’s house faster, but in broad daylight he felt he would be too conspicuous. Not everyone in town was consuming white fudge. Besides, leaping with a Moon Rock wasn’t that much faster than running. Thankfully, most of the way to Mr. Stott’s place was downhill.

Sucking on the Ironhide, trotting under the hot sun, Nate was bulletproof, but he was sweaty. He panted and rubbed the stitch in his side, wishing for a stick of Summer’s gum.

Eventually Nate diverged from Winding Way into Mr. Stott’s neighborhood. He noticed some kids around his age walking home from school, and felt a little jealous. He longed to be equally oblivious to magic candy and magicians and engineered apprentices. Of course, all he had to do was go home and devour a box of white fudge!

Which was not an option. He had to save Trevor. He had to save Summer and John. At least he had to try. Before long somebody would probably have to save him. He wondered if Pigeon needed to be saved.

Nate slowed to a walk for a block, then picked up the pace again. He turned onto Limerick Court, sprinting past the last few houses. His chest was heaving when he reached Mr. Stott’s house.

Mr. Stott opened the door before he knocked. “Come in,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Nate panted, entering. “I was worried you might be off driving your route.”

“I stuck around, hoping to hear from you,” Mr. Stott said, fingering one of the black stripes in his beard. “I tried to contact you this morning, but the phone was off.”

“I lost the phone,” Nate said. “I lost a lot of things. We had the
Stargazer,
but Mrs. White recruited bullies from our school who tailed us to the library. We got the ship past them, and I was running it here using Peak Performance gum, but as you know, I saw the fat guy full of jelly waiting near your house in ambush. His name is Mauricio. So I took the ship home, planning to bring it here in the morning, but the wooden Indian from the candy shop came and stole it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Stott said, his gaze steady.

“It gets worse. This guy named John Dart was my substitute teacher today.”

The name
John Dart
gave Mr. Stott a start. “John Dart? Here in town?”

“He told us you guys are after a drink from the Fountain of Youth and that he had to stop you. He seemed honest, and filled in a lot of blanks, so we decided to help him. He kidnapped Eric, one of the bullies, and found out that the treasure room is under Mt. Diablo Elementary.”

“Under the school?” Mr. Stott said. “Two Haags work at your school! One of them, Gary, is from the line that has been here in town since the old days. He was on my short list of suspects.”

“Gary was the guy,” Nate confirmed. “Summer and I went to his house with John to pick him up, but Mauricio and the dude with the birthmark beat us there. I barely got away, and they captured John and Summer. They missed nabbing Gary, but they know where he was going. Have you heard of Haags named Burt and Starla?”

Mr. Stott nodded. “They live a ways outside of town. We better get going. Run and say hello to the Flatman, and I’ll meet you in the garage.” He shook his keys and walked toward the door in his kitchen.

Nate hurried down the hall and peeked into the Flatman’s room, feeling unsure what to say to the odd creature. “Hi, Flatman. Mr. Stott is taking me in his truck to chase some guy. I’ll see you soon.”

The Flatman’s fins fluttered.

Nate ran to the garage, joining Mr. Stott in the truck. Mr. Stott hit the gas, leaving the garage door open as they rumbled onto Limerick Court.

“The Flatman told me you were coming and that you would need a ride,” Mr. Stott said. “That’s why I was ready and waiting.”

“I just told him you were taking me in your truck,” Nate said.

“Which is probably what he saw.”

“The birthmark guy is powerful,” Nate warned. “John called him a Fuse. He made the grass turn huge and tangle us up.”

“Nobody wants to contend with a Fuse,” Mr. Stott said. “But Belinda has the map and knows where to find the key. This could be our last opportunity to derail her.”

“I’m with you,” Nate said. “This might be my only chance to save my friends.”

“Burt and Starla live off the beaten path,” Mr. Stott said. “Do you have much candy left?”

“A little,” Nate said. “My second-to-last Ironhide faded to nothing while we were talking in your house. I have one left. They’ve been lifesavers.”

“I wish I had more candy to offer you,” Mr. Stott said. “Our best chance will be to beat Mrs. White’s thugs to Burt and Starla’s.”

“We might make it,” Nate said. “I came straight to you. It seemed like the others were taking John and Summer back to the candy shop.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

They drove out of town on Main Street, and then turned on Gold Coast Drive. The road wove among golden-brown hills and oak-filled valleys. Sprigs of wildflowers blossomed among the brush. Nate was impressed that on some stretches, Mr. Stott got the old truck up to over sixty miles per hour.

About ten minutes into the drive, a dirt road marked Orchard Lane branched off from Gold Coast Drive. “This is our last turn,” Mr. Stott said. At first, the dirt road was flat and drivable, but the further they meandered into the hills, the more rutted the road became, and soon they were jouncing along at fifteen miles per hour.

“We getting close?” Nate asked.

Mr. Stott glanced at his odometer. “A few more miles,” he said.

Nate repeatedly checked the big side mirrors, watching the empty road behind them, worried that their enemies could overtake them at any moment. The ice cream truck often slowed to less than ten miles per hour.

They were traversing a field where an old wooden bridge spanned a dry creekbed. Tall golden brush thrived everywhere, along with old oaks and a few huge bushes.

Off to one side of the road, a black Hummer pulled out of hiding from behind a screen of shrubs.

“Oh, no,” Mr. Stott said.

The Hummer raced toward them, gaining speed as it bounced through the brush. Mr. Stott tried to accelerate, but the road was particularly rutted, and he almost overturned the top-heavy truck. Rocks scraped against the undercarriage. “What do we do?” Nate asked.

“Ironhide,” Mr. Stott said.

Nate fished out his last Ironhide and put it in his mouth. It became evident that the Hummer meant to broadside them. Mr. Stott swerved off the road and accelerated, trying to avoid the collision, but the Hummer rammed into the side of the Candy Wagon near the rear. The truck spun and flipped upside down. Dreamlike and slow after the initial jolt, the inverted ice cream truck rocked and slammed down on its side.

Nate felt the sensation of rolling and whipping around violently, but his seatbelt held him in place and he experienced no pain. Mr. Stott also had his seatbelt on, but blood trickled down his forehead from where he had bashed the side window. The old magician looked dazed.

The Hummer raced off, spewing up dust on the dirt road. The impact had to have damaged it, but Nate could see only the back of the vehicle as he stared at it sideways through the starred glass of the front windshield. The passenger window was facing the sky. Mr. Stott’s side of the truck was against the ground.

“Drove into a trap,” Mr. Stott mumbled. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together, grunting. “There. Changed the gasoline . . . into water. So we won’t explode.”

“Are you okay?” Nate asked.

“Could have used an Ironhide,” he smiled. “Not that it would have reinforced these old bones. I’m unwell.”

“Can I do something?” Nate said.

“If I leave the vehicle, I’ll die,” Mr. Stott said. “My age will catch up with me. Let’s see.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together again. Blood drizzled down into his beard. He bared his teeth, groaning, and suddenly changed into a coyote, a transition that occurred in a blink.

“Mr. Stott?” Nate asked.

“That’s a bit more comfortable,” the coyote said in Mr. Stott’s voice. “I may be able to travel temporarily like this if it becomes life or death. But I can’t change myself back. I’ll require assistance. If I leave the truck in this state, in time my awareness will depart and I’ll grow feral.”

“What do I do?” Nate asked.

“I’d say this qualifies as a dire situation,” the coyote said.

“The Grains of Time?”

“Might as well give it a shot. Now or never.”

“You said blue first, then red, then yellow?”

“In rapid succession,” the coyote said. “Past, future, and present.”

“How long will I have?” Nate asked. “It won’t do much good to go back in time if I’m stuck in a field in the middle of nowhere!”

“You’ll go back a week or two for about an hour, forward a day or two for about an hour, and then you’ll have about an hour with an advantage in the present,” Mr. Stott said. “Your body won’t travel through time. Nobody knows how to send matter across that gulf. But we can send a mind. You will find yourself occupying a vacant mind in the past, and a vacant mind in the future. The minds you occupy will have no idea you were there, no memory of what you did.”

“Will it be somebody nearby?” Nate asked.

“The nearest ideal candidate,” Mr. Stott said. “Colson remains the closest town. You’ll probably end up there. Use your minutes wisely.”

“What should I do?” Nate asked.

“All you can. You’ll find you can’t change the past—at least, I’ve never heard of anyone succeeding. Everything you do ends up being something that already happened. You’ll see.”

“So I can’t do anything?”

“You can do a lot. Just because it already happened doesn’t mean what you accomplished didn’t matter. I’ll confuse you more if I keep talking. Go back and do all you can in the time you have.”

“What about the future?” Nate asked.

“You can change the future, but not while you’re there. None of it has happened yet, you’ll be visiting a possibility. Scour the future for information. The future you will experience is the future without you in it. You see, your mind travels into the future, leaving your body vacant, meaning you weren’t a participant in how things turned out. Once you return to the present, you can try to make things work out differently. Never an easy task.”

“What advantage will I have in the present?” Nate asked.

“Three selves,” the Stott coyote said. “You’ll return to this location, and for an hour or so, you will manifest as three people. All of them will be equally you. Everything will be copied, even your clothes and the items you carry. When time runs out, however far apart your three selves have traveled, you’ll be drawn back together at a central point. You won’t materialize in solid rock or anything, or up in the air, but the spell will reunite you as close as possible to the midpoint of the space separating the three selves.”

“You’re frying my brain,” Nate said. “When time runs out, all my selves will teleport back to a central spot and I’ll be one person again?”

“Yes, but you can’t take anything with you that you didn’t have when you split into three,” Mr. Stott said. “I’ll explain more when the time comes. For now, you better get going.”

“Okay,” Nate said, unscrewing the top of the hourglass.

“You’ll want to spit out your Ironhide,” the coyote cautioned. “Never a good idea to mix candy. Sometimes it’s harmless, but it can be lethal.”

Nate removed the Ironhide from his mouth. “I can’t save it? It’s my last one.”

“Doesn’t work that way. Taking it out undoes the spell. Make this count.”

Nate tossed aside the Ironhide and raised the hourglass. “Down the hatch.” He dumped the blue sand into his mouth. Instantly he felt like the truck was spinning, and he swooned. He experienced a brief sensation of floating, and then soared.

*****

The next thing Nate knew, he was lying in an alley, opening his eyes. It was daytime. He sat up. His clothes were dirty and stank. He had a foul taste in his mouth. Rubbing his jaw, he found it stubbly, a sensation he had never experienced. He was a grown man!

Nate stood up, much taller than he had ever been. He felt unsteady, as if the wooziness from the blue sand were persisting. His head throbbed.

Stumbling out of the alley, Nate found himself next to the bar and grill on Main Street. The sun seemed brighter than usual. He stepped into the eatery.

“What time is it?” Nate called. He sounded like a grown-up!

“Almost three,” a voice called back.