The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe Page 26

  “Do we follow him?” Trevor asked.

  “I don’t know,” Victor said. “I doubt he was running to Mozag.”

  “We know they have at least one other ComKin,” Trevor said.

  “Katie Sung,” Victor agreed, retrieving his tranquilizer pistol. He started reloading it. “This guy dodged a few darts, but I hit him a few times, too. He should have been out cold. He must have some kind of immunity. Or maybe Jonas White was somehow using a simulacrum to give him a boost.”

  Victor started running down the hall in the direction Todd had fled. Trevor ran along beside him.

  “Where are we going?” Trevor asked.

  “Not sure,” Victor replied. “But I don’t want to hold still and let them bring the fight to us.”

  Reaching an intersection, Victor turned left. Trevor rounded the corner a pace or two behind, letting Victor lead.

  From up ahead, Trevor heard a strange clattering, like lumber being poured from a dump truck. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t know,” Victor replied, not breaking stride.

  Though nothing was visible down the hall, the clacking tumult drew nearer. Then a strange monstrosity bounded around the corner and came galloping toward them. Fashioned from wood, wires, and steel cables, the jumbled construct had no clear form. Considerably larger than a bear, it alternated between running on five and six legs, depending how it tilted. The overall impression was that a bizarre piece of modern art built from scrap wood had savagely come to life.

  “Don’t back down,” Victor growled. “We have to fight our way through it.”

  Trevor roared and increased to his full speed. The living lumber pile loomed larger than him, but a lot of it was empty space, and much of the wood looked rotted. Trevor bet that he had more mass.

  The wooden monstrosity charged equally hard. They were playing chicken, and the enemy showed no sign of relenting. The gap between them closed quickly. Roaring and lunging, Trevor collided with the fearless construct. Wood snapped as Trevor collapsed the front end of the creature. The shock of impact sent Trevor reeling, and he and the construct tumbled end over end. Wires and cables tangled his limbs as Trevor thrashed against moving wooden segments. The more Trevor fought, the more the construct wrapped around him, caging him in wood and wires, tightening its hold rather than trading blows. His thick hide and fur protected him from feeling severe pain, but it was very frustrating to be so strong and yet feel so constrained.

  Trevor could hear Victor beating against the wood. Trevor craned to see what was happening. The monstrosity shoved Victor with a wooden limb, sending the large investigator rolling to the floor.

  “Go!” Trevor called. “We have each other tied up! This is your chance! Find Mozag.”

  Victor regained his feet. “I’ll return for you.” Then he dashed away.

  *****

  Pigeon watched as John Dart opened the door and collected four mosquitoes. Sirens continued to wail. John shut the door quickly and rushed the mosquitoes over to the kitchen table, where Mozag spread his hands over them, eyes closed. One of the little bugs twitched.

  “Victor,” he said. “And a big bear.”

  Another mosquito fluttered.

  “Nothing of interest.”

  A third bug spasmed.

  Mozag opened his eyes. “Jonas sent his ungainly monstrosity to deal with the intruders. His sanctum is momentarily unguarded.”

  John Dart strode to the counter. He grabbed a pair of locators Mozag had devised, then rushed to the door. Pigeon followed.

  “Stay with Mozag,” John ordered as he opened the door.

  “Don’t activate the locators until you’re inside the sanctum,” Mozag warned, not for the first time. “Because of his simulcratic connections, his sanctum is imperfect. But the locators will work better if you smuggle them in while dormant.”

  “I’ll wait until after I cross the threshold,” John said.

  “Let me come!” Pigeon demanded. “You might need help! What if you get pinned down? While you fight them off, I can find the Source!”

  “Too dangerous,” John said. “Jonas White will probably kill us when he finds out we’ve left our sanctum.”

  “Not if we get the Source,” Pigeon said.

  “Take him,” Mozag said. “This may be our only shot. Hurry.”

  John tossed one of the locators to Pigeon, who dropped it but retrieved it quickly. John was already out the door. Pigeon hurried to catch up. Out in the hall, John raced ahead, lengthening his lead with every stride. Pigeon resisted calling to him to slow down. He knew that speed was essential. The commotion from the intrusion and the resultant alarm might temporarily prevent Jonas from realizing Pigeon and John had abandoned their sanctuary. But as soon as Jonas became aware, he could turn both of them into living statues—or worse.

  John disappeared around a corner. Pigeon ran his fastest, worried about not getting to the corner in time to see John’s next turn. When Pigeon reached the corner, he saw John racing down the hall. A man lay on the ground in the distance. When John reached the fallen figure, he paused, searching his pockets, giving Pigeon a chance to gain ground.

  “Sure you want to stay with me, Pigeon?” John asked without looking up.

  “I’m sure,” Pigeon said.

  “Ah-ha!”

  “What?” Pigeon asked.

  “Access card,” John said, holding up what looked like a credit card. “This is Conner Grady, one of Jonas White’s most trusted bodyguards.”

  “I’m coming,” Pigeon said resolutely. He wanted to help John. He also wanted to run back to Mozag. He definitely didn’t want the wax figure used against him. But if this escape failed, would they get another chance? If they had to take down Jonas White now or never, shouldn’t he lend his help, even if he was underqualified?

  “I can’t protect you,” John said. “I have to reach the Source at all cost. I have to find it and destroy it.”

  “I won’t do any good back with Mozag,” Pigeon said.

  John started running again, crouching to pick up a baseball bat near a doorway. “Try to stay with me.”

  At the next intersection John kept running straight. Looking down the hall as he crossed it, Pigeon saw a bear tangled in some sort of trap made of wood and wire. The shaggy animal was wrestling fiercely, making the trap flop and writhe, the wood clattering and splitting.

  Once again, John turned a small lead into a long one. Panting heavily, Pigeon tried to ignore the sharp pain in his side. Up ahead, John turned a corner. Pigeon tucked his head and kept pumping his arms and legs. Despite his best efforts, he could not stay at a full sprint.

  Pigeon made it past the corner in time to see John disappearing around another one. He hustled, worried about losing him. When he rounded the next corner, he found John receding down a long hall.

  Breathing hard, Pigeon kept running, motivated by thoughts of running into enemies without John to help him. John turned again. It took Pigeon more than thirty paces to reach that intersection. When he got there, Pigeon found John standing before a large

  iron door at the end of the hall, looking back over his shoulder.

  As soon as Pigeon came into view, John swiped the card he had taken from the unconscious bodyguard. Then he hauled open the door.

  Pigeon glanced down at the locator in his hand. It looked suspiciously like a plastic Easter egg. But Mozag had explained that the tiny bubbles inside would work like Finder’s Dust. The bubbles would remain inert until activated by contact with oxygen. Once active, the bubbles would be drawn to the most potent source of magical power in the area. If the bubbles were activated before entering Jonas White’s sanctum, they could lose potency upon crossing the threshold.

  “John Dart!” a strident voice warned, and Katie Sung sprang into view, wearing a black turtleneck and gray slacks. Through the doorway, beyond John and Katie, Pigeon saw a multitude of wax figures.

  Katie blocked John from progressing into the room. For a moment they faced each
other motionlessly. Then Katie pounced. John raised his bat to block her punch, and her fist broke it in half. Ducking, Katie spun and delivered a low, sweeping kick with impossible speed. John’s feet were whipped out from under him so hard that he landed almost upside down.

  Pigeon charged through the doorway and crushed the eggshell in his hand. Tiny bubbles floated free, no larger than peas. The air in the sanctum was much cooler than the air out in the corridor. Pigeon recognized many of the wax figures—he saw himself, his friends, and also figures of Katie, Cleon, Todd, and some of the other henchmen. Jonas White stood at the far side of the room. He looked enraged by the intrusion.

  From his position on the ground, John kicked at Katie’s legs, but she nimbly sprang away. He started to rise.

  Katie pointed to Pigeon. “It’s our lost Sub!”

  “I can see,” Jonas White said as he toddled toward a life-sized wax replica of John Dart. “Jeanine, if you will.”

  A slight, youngish girl whom Pigeon had never noticed before stepped forward, palms facing him. Suddenly Pigeon was falling upward. Desperately twisting to avoid smashing his head, Pigeon slammed sideways against the ceiling; then gravity went back to normal, and he fell to the floor, landing hard, the breath crushed out of him.

  John Dart was back on his feet. Jeanine held her palm toward him. John flipped as he fell upward, landing in a crouch on the ceiling, then flipped again, landing smoothly on the floor.

  Scowling, Jeanine extended both palms at John. He hunched as if under the weight of an invisible burden. He took a couple of shaky steps to one side, his knees quivering unsteadily. “She’s a Crusher,” John panted. “Very rare. Can manipulate gravitational fields.”

  John fell upward again, landing roughly against the ceiling. When he dropped back to the ground, he hit hard.

  Pigeon looked to where his bubbles were collecting against a jade urn upon a recessed shelf on the far side of the room. There appeared to be more bubbles than had come from his egg, which led him to conclude John must have released his bubbles as well.

  Jonas White reached the wax figure of John Dart and inserted a needle at the back of the neck. John instantly went rigid.

  Katie Sung relaxed, turning her attention to Pigeon. “You sided with the wrong team,” she said.

  Victor Battiato burst into the room and skidded to a halt. “What the devil?” he asked, taking in the scene.

  “The urn is his power source,” Pigeon blurted, pointing. “The green one in the niche. We’re up against a ComKin and a Crusher.”

  Victor aimed his tranquilizer pistol but fell upward before he fired. He smacked against the ceiling on his side. As he dropped back toward the floor, Katie interrupted his fall with a brutal flying kick that made him land in a painful tumble. His pistol clattered to the floor.

  The bear Pigeon had glimpsed earlier loped into the room, its shaggy fur matted in some places, ruffled in others. Katie dove to recover the tranquilizer pistol. She rapidly unloaded the gun into the bear.

  The bulky bear staggered. “Uh-oh,” it said in a very humanlike voice.

  “The urn in the niche,” Victor urged, rising and pointing.

  Katie attacked, kicking the bear in the side hard enough to knock it over. After skidding to a stop, the bear flew up to the ceiling, then flopped back to the floor.

  Pigeon crawled toward the urn. Everybody seemed distracted by the fight. He worried that if he got up and ran he might draw attention. He was getting close. Behind him, Victor was fighting Katie. The bear no longer moved. Jeanine sat down, rubbing her temples, her brow glistening with perspiration.

  Slowly but steadily, Pigeon kept crawling. He was almost there. The jade urn was less than five yards away. He rose to his feet and charged. His body abruptly went rigid and he fell onto his side, landing just shy of the niche. As he went down, out of the corner of his eye, Pigeon glimpsed Jonas White near a wax figure of an eleven-year-old boy in a black leather jacket.

  Trapped on his side, Pigeon couldn’t move his eyes. He couldn’t move his lips. He found himself staring at the paralyzed form of John Dart. Behind John, Katie had subdued Victor Battiato.

  The attempt to destroy the Source was over. They had failed. Immobilized and utterly helpless, Pigeon dreaded what might come next.

  Chapter Twenty

  Desperate Measures

  A hundred feet above Arcadeland, Nate pulled up beside Lindy. As they hovered together in the darkness, a lone car motored along the dark street. A few other vehicles hibernated in the parking lot below.

  They had not caught up with Chris and Risa on the way back from the bay. Nate assumed the other Jets had been flying at full throttle to ensure the Protector would make it back safely.

  “See any Tanks?” Nate asked.

  “All clear,” Lindy confirmed, eyes sweeping the area. “Chris and Risa are waiting for us inside, just beyond the main doors. I would guess they only beat us here by a minute or two. They’re with Katie Sung and Cleon.”

  “Can you see anyone else?”

  “No. Some people are probably in the basement or the other rooms and halls that I can’t perceive.”

  “Chris and Risa have the Protector? We won?”

  “Right.”

  Nate sighed. Jonas White now had everything he needed to go after Uweya. If he and Lindy wanted to trip him up, they needed to act now. Nate worried that he might have already waited too long.

  “We need to start putting up more of a fight,” Nate said. “We keep waiting for the right opportunity, and it never comes. Jonas has what he wanted. He might send us to go after Uweya, and then again he might not. What if he quits using us? What if he tries to keep us here?”

  “You think he might send his own people after Uweya?”

  “Maybe,” Nate said. “Or he might hold us here until he sends us. He’s so close to winning, he won’t want to risk blowing it. We can’t get stuck here. Jonas has already proven that he doesn’t mind making kids disappear. I should probably take off. I need to try to get a plan together. We’re the last line of defense.”

  “Should I come with you?” Lindy asked.

  Nate hesitated, trying to think through the best strategy. “Somebody should stay at Arcadeland,” he decided. “There’s a chance Jonas will go after Uweya right away. Just like we can’t afford to get trapped at Arcadeland, we also can’t afford to leave Jonas or the other Jets alone.”

  “How do I explain your absence?”

  “Tell him I got hurt,” Nate suggested, his mind racing to find better excuses. “Tell him I was stressed that we almost drowned Roman. Tell him I wanted to see Mr. Stott about it.”

  “What if he sends us after Uweya while you’re gone?”

  “Break your button,” Nate said. “We’ll need all the help we can get. Try to convince Chris and Risa to help us. Jonas has the Gate and the Protector. We can’t let them get used.”

  “What are you going to do? Are you really going to Mr. Stott?”

  “I’ll go there first,” Nate said. “That will help your story check out. Hopefully Mr. Stott can help me get rid of this tracking bracelet. I really can use whatever advice I can get. Once we make a plan, I’ll do whatever it takes. Maybe I’ll end up attacking Arcadeland with the Battiatos. If so, we’ll probably be glad to have you inside. Stay ready to help.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not ditching you,” Nate pledged. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

  “It’s all right,” Lindy assured him, trying to fake a brave smile. “I get it. We need to take action, and we can’t leave Arcadeland unwatched. I agree. One of us should stay and one should go. I’ll do what I can until you come with the cavalry.”

  “I should get out of here.”

  “Go,” she urged. “We’re out of time. You’re right—it’s now or never.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  Nate flew away.

  As he cruised at his top speed, buildings and streets stre
aked by beneath him, and cool air washed over him. It didn’t take long to reach the Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe. Landing in the back, Nate rapped on the door. After a prolonged pause, he knocked again. The door opened a moment later.

  “Come inside,” Mr. Stott said, alert eyes gazing beyond Nate into the night.

  Nate entered hastily. “We got the Protector,” he said. “It’s the last thing Jonas White needs to go after Uweya.”

  “You delivered it to him?” Mr. Stott exclaimed.

  “The other Jets handed it over, along with Lindy. I wasn’t sure what else to do. Jonas has simulacra of us, and the Tanks could track us. If we had tried to run, we wouldn’t have made it far. I guess the next step will be to track down the Battiatos.”

  “They’ve already been here,” Mr. Stott said. “Ziggy is upstairs taking refuge in my sanctum. Trevor and Victor went after Pigeon and Mozag a few hours ago.”

  “What?” Nate cried. “How’d it go?”

  “Not well,” Mr. Stott grumbled. “John Dart and Pigeon got out of their cells and tried to help, but they were captured along with Victor and Trevor.”

  “Wait,” Nate said. “If they were all captured, how could you know what happened?”

  “Victor recently regained consciousness,” Mr. Stott explained. “He was out for some time. When he revived, he transferred much of his strength back to Ziggy. In the process, he managed to also transmit a great deal of information.”

  “Like what?”

  Mr. Stott glanced toward his apartment. “It might be safer to let Ziggy explain. Jonas White shouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on us in my lair, but he certainly won’t be able to overhear us in my sanctum. You look haggard. Would you care for a refreshment?”

  “Sure,” Nate said, realizing it had been some time since he had a bite.

  “Something sweet and nutritious?”

  “I’d take that.”

  “Go on up. Get filled in. The treat will take me a minute or two.”

  Nate flew up the stairs. Flight required less energy than walking, and he was feeling pretty weary. Now that he had reached the relative safety of the candy shop, it was like his body knew it could unwind.