The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (25 page)

“After midnight.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll come down.”

Summer nodded and walked carefully away from the window, shingles groaning and splitting under her augmented weight. She jumped off the roof and plummeted out of sight.

Nate changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then added a light jacket. He put on his shoes and glided out the window and down to Summer.

“What happened to Trevor?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Summer said. “We were out at some trailer park getting the map to the Protector, which turned out to be a little round rock called the guidestone.”

“Okay.”

“Trevor had the stone,” she said. “He almost beat us singlehandedly, even though his teammates messed up. But I guess he ran at his top speed for too long and wiped himself out. We didn’t get much chance to talk. Anyhow, we got the stone back from him. Both clubs had gone to the trailer park in cars. We had flipped the Racers’ car upside down to mess them up, but then we flipped it back once we had the guidestone, so the driver could take them home. The car was busted up, but it still worked.”

“Then what?”

“One of the Racers tried to steal the guidestone back, but Roman held tight, and she hurt her wrist. By the end, Paige had a sprained wrist and Claire had injured her leg pretty bad. It took the fight out of them. They went back in their car. But Trevor refused. He just took off into a field.”

“Probably smart,” Nate said. “Pigeon disappeared after his club lost.”

“Right,” Summer said. “But Trevor still hasn’t shown up at his house.”

“Wait, when did you guys turn in the guidestone?”

“Around eight o’clock. Afterward, I kept looking for Trevor. I just came here from his house. I’m worried he won’t ever show up. And I’m worried that we’re getting too deep into this without solving anything. I keep waiting for a chance to sneak into the secret parts of Arcadeland, and that chance keeps not coming. We lost Pigeon. We’re no closer to finding John. We can’t let Jonas White get Uweya.”

Nate patted her shoulder. “Maybe we should go talk farther away. I don’t want to wake up my parents.”

She looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“What?”

“Our parents are all zombified. It’s just like with Mrs. White. They can’t get enough of that nacho cheese. He’s been targeting them with taco carts—Arcadeland Taco Fiesta. My dad brought some of their food home tonight.”

Nate thought about it. He’d been generally avoiding his family, partly because he’d been busy at the training center, and partly because he didn’t want them placing limits on his excursions. Nobody had raised a complaint about the long hours he’d been away. When he had spoken with them, they had been calm and easygoing. “I should have known,” he said.

“He’s had my dad in a daze for a couple of days,” Summer said. “Just one more reason we need to take him down.”

Nate nodded. “You want to go look for Trevor? Or should we wait at his house? How far away were you?”

“It was a pretty far drive,” Summer said. “Almost an hour. But as a Racer, he should have been back by now. I think we should talk to Mr. Stott.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ve gotten out of touch with him. So, you guys are going to be Racer Tanks?”

“Huh? Because we earned the racecar stamp?”

Nate held out his hand. “They have a lady who can blend two stamps so they work together. We’re all Jet Subs now. I can hardly imagine going up against Racer Tanks.”

Summer raised her eyebrows. “Don’t let my teammates get ahold of you. They play rough.”

“I believe you.”

“Will they be able to blend all four stamps?” Summer wondered.

“The lady told us she could barely handle two,” Nate replied. “I guess that’s the limit. You’ll find out about it when you go in to refresh your stamp.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Summer said. “Did you and Lindy meet with the Battiatos?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “There’s no news on Pigeon. Nothing new at all, really.”

They walked to the candy shop and went to the back door. A light was on, so Nate knocked gently. Mr. Stott answered a moment later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in one hand, eyes anxious as he glanced beyond them into the night. “Come inside,” he urged. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Mr. Stott closed the door behind them.

“We’re worried about Trevor,” Summer said.

Mr. Stott raised the mug. “I’m less worried now.”

“He’s here?” Nate asked.

Mr. Stott motioned with the mug for them to follow him. He led them up to the apartment, where Lindy greeted them. “This is turning into a party,” she said.

“Where’s Trevor?” Summer asked.

“He’s in my sanctum,” Mr. Stott said.

“Your sanctum?” Nate asked.

“The heart of my lair,” Mr. Stott explained. “The most protected space. Magically, it’s cut off from the rest of the universe. He may have to stay put for a while.”

“Jonas White shouldn’t be able to reach him there,” Lindy added. “Even the simulacrum shouldn’t work.”

“Shouldn’t or can’t?” Nate checked.

Mr. Stott rubbed the side of his beard. “It would require a massive amount of skill and energy to overwhelm the barriers that protect my sanctum, but it is possible.”

“Can we see him?” Summer asked.

“Sure,” Mr. Stott said. He led them down a short hall to a modest room. Trevor sat on the edge of a futon.

“Hey, guys,” Trevor said, brightening as Nate and Summer entered. “You’re up late.”

“How long have you been here?” Summer asked.

Trevor glanced over at a clock. “About four hours.”

“You got here quickly,” Summer said. “You ran?”

“Part of the way,” Trevor said. “Not a lot. I took it easy at first. I needed some time to recover from pushing too hard back at the trailer park. Once I was feeling good, I used my speed to sneak into the back of a pickup truck.”

“Couldn’t you have just run the whole way?” Nate asked.

“In theory, I guess,” Trevor said. “But even though to you guys I go super fast, to me I’m still moving at my normal speed. A long run is still tiring and boring. We must have been at least thirty miles from here. That’s a long way to jog.”

“So you used your speed to secretly hitch rides,” Summer said.

“Pretty much,” Trevor said. “Then I bailed when the cars went the wrong way. If I use my top speed, I’m faster than cars on the freeway. But I can only keep it up in short bursts, or it wipes me out.”

“He took a risk,” Mr. Stott said. “Until Trevor reached this sanctum, Jonas might have used the simulacrum to harm him at any time. Apparently Jonas didn’t figure out that Trevor was on the run until after he found sanctuary here.”

“So now he has to stay?” Nate asked.

“Or he risks magical retaliation,” Mr. Stott said. “To exit this sanctum would leave him exposed.”

“I’m worried that I’ll get the rest of you in trouble,” Trevor said. “If they track me here, it’ll mean problems for Mr. Stott. And Jonas knows I was involved with Nate, Lindy, and Summer. He’ll be watching all of us more carefully.”

“It’s a risk I’m happy to take,” Mr. Stott said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nate said. “I’d much rather take a little more heat than have you vanish like Pigeon.”

“I worry about Pigeon too,” Trevor said with frustration. “If I had let myself get caught, maybe I could have found him and helped him.”

“More likely you’d just be in the same trouble as him,” Lindy said.

“I’m worried about how far Jonas is getting in this search for Uweya,” Summer said. “I helped take a map from a family that has guarded it for a long time. They seemed really worried about what would happen if Jonas found Uweya.”

“I haven’t been able to learn much about Uweya,” Mr. Stott said. “I’ve consulted all of my usual resources, but there is almost no information about what it does or how it can be found. Jonas must have gone to great lengths to learn anything about it.”

“I felt bad about taking the Gate from the Hermit,” Nate said. “If all of this adds up to Jonas getting Uweya, I think we’re doomed.”

“What’s your next mission?” Mr. Stott asked.

“Probably to get the Protector,” Summer said. “The map we got will supposedly lead us to it.”

“What is the Protector?” Mr. Stott inquired.

“I don’t really know,” Summer said.

“They’ll tell us more when we get the mission,” Nate guessed.

“Only two clubs left,” Mr. Stott mused. “That would lead me to assume you are approaching the end of the treasure hunt.”

“It feels that way,” Summer said. “As far as we know, the next challenge after getting the Protector could be to find Uweya.”

“Or you might just be gathering the tools Jonas needs,” Mr. Stott speculated. “He may not involve the clubs in retrieving the actual prize.”

“We need to start fighting back before it’s too late,” Nate said. “But how? With those wax statues, Jonas can take us down whenever he wants!”

“Watch for opportunities,” Mr. Stott advised. “I’m working on a project that might be of service. I just hope I can finish it in time.”

“New candy?” Nate said hopefully.

Mr. Stott nodded. “Something that might help you get around without Jonas using the simulacra against you.”

“Has the Flatman seen anything useful?” Nate wondered, referring to the mutant that Mr. Stott kept floating in a shallow aquarium of formaldehyde. The Flatman had offered some useful predictions back when they were dealing with Belinda White.

“He has been silent of late,” Mr. Stott said. “His activity has always been unpredictable. For now, your best bet is to keep playing along. I’ll keep working on my new treat. But stay vigilant! Remember the Battiatos if you need backup. We need to find John and Mozag. And, at all cost, we need to keep Jonas White from obtaining Uweya.”

*****

Pigeon leapt to his feet when his cell door opened. Cleon looked in, wearing a red vest over a white shirt. “You want that shower?”

Pigeon had not yet left his cell. Living underground without windows, he found it tricky to judge how much time had passed. He estimated it had been more than a day. Whenever a meal was brought he asked for a shower. Until now, his keepers had not acknowledged his requests.

“Really?” Pigeon asked.

Cleon hooked a thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. “Nobody likes a smelly kid.”

“Great,” Pigeon said, wishing he felt less flustered by the opportunity. He was no fan of Cleon, but it was refreshing to see a familiar face. Pigeon had no prior association with either of the men who had brought his meals. “Do I have to wear handcuffs?”

Cleon chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. Come on.”

Pigeon walked out of the cell. So far, anxiety had been the worst part of his incarceration. The cell stayed at a livable temperature, the cot was reasonably comfortable, and the food tasted all right. Nothing was great, but nothing was horrible.

His biggest frustration had come from his inability to accomplish anything. He had hoped that becoming a prisoner might give him access to useful secrets, but so far all he had managed to do was sleep, eat, pace, and stew.

Cleon escorted him down the hall. Pigeon appreciated his ability to move his gaze around rather than having it fixed. He could not help noticing how far the hall extended in both directions, and how many cell doors it contained.

“Big prison,” Pigeon said conversationally.

“Yeah,” Cleon replied.

“Do you guys keep a lot of people here?”

“Not many,” Cleon replied. “The boss doesn’t do things halfway. There are whole wings that I doubt we’ll ever use.”

They turned a corner and Cleon led Pigeon to an unmarked door. “You’ll have the whole place to yourself. I’ll wait out here. I don’t have all day. Make it snappy.”

“I’ll hurry,” Pigeon promised. “Do I just put my same clothes back on?”

“For now, yeah,” Cleon said. “We’ll look into finding something else.”

Pigeon passed through the door into a large locker room. Long fluorescent lights cast an even radiance onto the tile floor. He found soap, shampoo, conditioner, and a folded towel on a bench between rows of lockers. Proceeding to a large communal shower, Pigeon chose a nozzle and turned on the water. He checked the temperature with his hand and adjusted the knobs a couple of times, then stepped into the spray.

Despite the wide, eerily empty room and the guard waiting outside to return him to his cell, Pigeon felt his body relax as warm water gushed over him. With a small sniff, he tried to breathe the water and immediately began coughing. The sub stamp had worn off.

After a few moments wallowing in the relaxing sensation, he remembered his promise to Cleon and grabbed the soap. Pigeon hummed as he washed. Then he started singing. The echo off the bare walls helped his voice sound better than usual. He started getting into it, loudly singing the national anthem, until he imagined Cleon laughing at him out in the hall. Hopefully the door would serve to muffle his voice, but Pigeon decided not to take any chances.

When he finished, Pigeon shut off the water and grabbed his towel. The air felt cooler after the warm spray, so he hurried and pulled on his clothes while he was still too wet, causing his shirt and pants to stick uncomfortably to his skin. Once he was presentable, Pigeon exited the locker room to find Cleon waiting.

“How fast do you think you were?” Cleon asked.

“Pretty fast,” Pigeon said.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep until you serenaded me,” Cleon said.

“I liked the echo,” Pigeon explained.

“I could tell,” Cleon chuckled. “Let’s get you back to that comfy cell. I bet you’ve got an echo in there, too. Have you tried it out?”

“I’m never singing again,” Pigeon said, his cheeks hot.

“Don’t squander your talent,” Cleon said. “I think you’ve got a future! Next time you shower, I just might charge admission. Maybe we’ll play a ball game afterward. Come on.”

They began to retrace their steps to Pigeon’s cell. When they reached Pigeon’s hall, loud footfalls sounded behind them. Pigeon and Cleon turned at the same time.

A man charged down the hall toward them. A large man, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. His shoes slapped the floor unapologetically. An unbuttoned overcoat flapped behind him like a cape. The man was not wearing his customary fedora, but it was definitely John Dart.