The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (18 page)

Ziggy shook his head and made a befuddled gesture. “He’s a figure from history books. He lived, what, two thousand years ago?”

“At least,” Victor said.

“I guess he made something called Uweya,” Pigeon said.

“Never heard of it,” Victor said.

“Me neither,” Ziggy grumbled. “But we have access to books. We’ll look into it.”

“Anything else?” Victor asked.

“Jonas made it clear that we had better not work against him,” Pigeon said. “He threatened me if I showed my magic to anyone who didn’t know about it.”

“No magician wants to broadcast the existence of magic,” Ziggy said.

“And no magician with an agenda would smile at disloyalty,” Victor added. “Pigeon, after you hand over your special item, we should probably limit contact to emergencies. He may be able to watch you.”

“You’ve given us some terrific leads, kid,” Ziggy said. “Keep watching him. Try not to get into hot water. If you do, let us know.”

“We prepped some items for you,” Victor said, holding out his palm. In it rested five buttons. “Share these with your friends. Keep one on you, and we should be able to track you. If you get into the kind of trouble where you need us to come immediately, break it.”

“Thanks,” Pigeon said.

“These too,” Ziggy said, handing over a wooden box. Inside Pigeon found six sleek pistols. “Tranquilizer guns. Custom-made, top of the line. Very accurate and high-powered for pistols. Each holds six darts. Semiautomatic. There are several spare darts in the box. Share them, and don’t hesitate to use them in emergencies.”

“This is great,” Pigeon said.

“Do you have anything for dogs?” Diego asked. “Magic collar? Body armor?”

“The dog can talk,” Ziggy said.

“Brain Feed,” Pigeon explained. “Mr. Stott makes it. Diego is definitely on our side.”

“Sorry, pooch,” Victor said, scratching Diego behind the ears. “We’re all out of doggie gear.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” Diego said. “Especially if you keep scratching.”

“You two should beat it,” Ziggy suggested. “The longer you stay near us, the more danger you’re in. Jonas White will be keeping tabs on you, one way or another.”

“Thanks for the gear,” Pigeon said. “You think we can take these guys down?”

“We had better,” Victor said. “For all our sakes.”

*****

Nate had decided on Zombie Nightmare Apocalypse IV as his special object. He had considered some trophies, a sock monkey that used to share his bed, and a few of the Zelda games. But in the end, the overall mayhem and general replay value of ZNA IV had won out.

He waited next to Lindy near an EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Chris and Risa had yet to show up.

“You brought a stuffed flamingo?” Nate asked.

She held it up. The toy had more expression than Nate would expect on a bird. “It was the first thing Mr. Stott got for me,” Lindy explained. “I don’t have many favorite possessions. I hope I’m attached enough to it. I guess we’ll find out. You brought a video game?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “I really like it. There are so many different ways to take out the zombies. You can win each level using lots of different strategies.”

“I don’t get video games,” Lindy admitted. “Wouldn’t you rather actually go do something than just pretend on a screen?”

“Where am I going to actually fight zombies?”

“Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Not in real life. But in a video game it rules. That’s the point. You can do crazy stuff, but nobody actually gets hurt.”

“Hey, guys,” Chris said, walking up with Risa. “What’s up?”

“Cleon told us to wait here,” Lindy said.

“Fair warning,” Risa muttered. “This part will be a little creepy.”

“What do you mean?” Nate asked.

“We can’t explain,” Chris replied. “You’ll see.”

“Have you had any flying dreams yet?” Risa asked.

“I did,” Lindy said. “I was up in the clouds.”

“I had a good one last night,” Risa said. “I was in a canyon in the desert, rescuing frogs.”

“Rescuing frogs?” Chris chuckled.

“I don’t know,” Risa replied defensively. “It was a dream. They were stuck up on these cliffs and I had to put them in a lake.”

“Were they slimy?” Lindy asked.

“Not really. They were cute.”

“That’s the worst dream ever,” Chris said.

“I haven’t had one yet,” Nate said. “A flying dream. At least not that I remember. Not since I’ve actually flown, I mean.”

The EMPLOYEES ONLY door opened and Cleon waved the four of them inside. He led them through some industrial halls to a different room than last time. He opened a door and extended an arm, inviting the kids inside.

Nate entered, then froze, staring at himself and Lindy rendered as life-sized wax figures. The wax sculptures flanked a desk where Jonas White sat waiting.

“Come inside,” Jonas invited. “Have you ever viewed yourselves in three dimensions? Most people have not. Chris and Marisa had a chance on another occasion. Today Nate and Lindy get a turn.”

Nate approached his wax duplicate. It was exactly his height, and it wore the same outfit he had sported the last time he conversed with Jonas. He walked around it, getting a view from all sides. Lindy scrutinized her wax twin as well. Chris and Risa shared an amused look.

“What do you think?” Jonas asked.

“We should mass-produce these,” Nate said, tentatively touching the wax cheek. “I bet the ladies would love one.”

“Sadly, our plans do not involve placing your likeness in houses across the country,” Jonas said.

“Why did you make these?” Lindy asked.

“Every magician has his specialties,” Jonas said humbly. “I am a Simulcrist.”

“A what now?” Nate asked.

“A simulacrum is a representation of something,” Jonas explained. “A scarecrow, for example, is a simulacrum of a man used to frighten birds. These wax figures are simulacra of you two.”

“You made them?” Lindy asked.

Jonas held up a hand and affectionately considered his fingers. “I do have that talent, but alas, I lack the speed to have created these lifelike sculptures on such short notice. My apprentices produced them. They have a remarkable aptitude for working with wax. Nate, Lindy, the two of you will be the latest addition to my collection.”

“Why?” Nate probed.

“Do you suspect that my reasons are more than purely aesthetic?” Jonas asked. “If so, you would be correct. As a Simulcrist, I wish to establish a connection between you and your simulacrum. This connection will allow me to exact retribution should you elect to betray me.”

“Like a voodoo doll?” Nate asked.

“In theory, I suppose,” Jonas said. “Although there is no voodoo involved. I’m honestly not sure whether voodoo actually works.”

“But this does?” Lindy asked.

“Most assuredly,” Jonas said. “These simulacra will help ensure that you work with me, not against me. I have entrusted you with powerful enhancers. If you serve me faithfully, the simulacra will never be used to harm you. In fact, they can be used to help you. But if you choose not to serve me honorably—well, you should probably surrender your positions as Jets now and save all of us considerable unpleasantness.”

“This is why you need the items?” Nate asked.

“Nothing gets by you,” Jonas sneered. “The items will help establish the desired connection between you and your simulacrum. What have you brought me?”

Nate held up his video game. “Zombie Nightmare Apocalypse IV.”

“May I handle it?” Jonas asked.

Nate handed it over. Jonas closed his eyes, clutching it firmly. “I have sensed stronger connections, but this will suffice.”

“How do I know you’ll give it back?” Nate asked.

Jonas grinned. “I’ve been around a long time. If I kept every simulacrum I made, I’d need to store them in a football stadium. Once you have loyally served your purpose, your game will be returned, the connection between you and your simulacrum will be severed, and the simulacrum will be recycled.”

“Could I keep mine as a souvenir?” Nate tried.

“We could discuss the possibility when the time comes,” Jonas said. “I assume you intend to proceed? If either of you finds this arrangement unacceptable, our relationship ends here.”

Nate found it totally unacceptable. But if he walked away, how would he ever find John and Mozag? He glanced over at Lindy, who stared back at him uncertainly.

“Just do it,” Chris said. “We did. It’s no big deal. Are you really going to walk away from flying after all that work earning the stamp?”

“What can you do to us with the simulacrum?” Nate inquired.

“All sorts of thing,” Jonas said slowly. “The magicians who pioneered the manufacture of simulacra did so to help people. Simulacra were principally used to reduce pain or alleviate the symptoms of certain illnesses. Years of experimentation have shown that simulacra can be quite versatile. In addition to simulcry, I have also studied acupuncture for decades. The combination can produce some fascinating results.”

“You could hurt us?” Nate said.

Jonas grinned like a hangman who loved his job. “I could certainly harm you, yes. Inflicting pain is only one of my options. I could kill you. I could lower your inhibitions. I could make you thirsty. I could make you dizzy. I could create rushes of pleasure that would leave you pleading for more. Or I could simply cure your back pain.”

“That’s a lot of power to hand over to a stranger,” Lindy said.

“So is the power of flight,” Jonas argued. “So are the secrets I will share with you once the treasure hunt begins. The simulacra merely bring our shared risks into balance.”

Nate hated the idea of giving an enemy so much power over him. Even if he was smart and careful, it could end very badly. He wondered whether John would do it for him? He was pretty sure the answer was yes.

“All right,” Nate said. “But you had better keep your word.”

Jonas rubbed the video game between his hands. “If I failed to keep my promise as explained, the connection would weaken considerably. Of course, if you neglect to honor your end of the agreement, I will be within my rights to exact whatever revenge I deem appropriate.”

“Okay,” Lindy said. “I’ll do it too.”

Jonas accepted the pink flamingo. He held it pensively for a moment. “This will do.” He rose carefully. “Congratulations on becoming the newest additions to my waxworks. Now, who would like to refresh their stamps?”

Chapter Twelve

The Hermit

After the weekend, Todd and Cleon showed up at the training facility unannounced. Nate and the Jets were playing catch using baseball mitts when the two men entered. The appearance marked the first time any Arcadeland employee had visited the facility.

All activity came to a halt. The four clubs were now all filled. A large girl had joined the Tanks, three girls had joined the Racers, and two boys had joined the Subs. Even so, demand for the stamps supposedly continued. None of the stamps were on display as prizes anymore, but Nate had heard that a couple of kids had already been turned away from attempting to claim some.

Todd motioned for the clubs to gather to him. The Jets swooped down, arriving before all but the Racers. The Subs got there last, totally dry despite having come from the pool.

“You’ve all heard about the treasure hunt,” Cleon announced. “The first phase is about to begin. It’ll pit the Jets against the Subs, with the competition beginning at sundown.”

“What about us?” Roman asked.

“Tanks and Racers have to sit this one out,” Todd said. “You’ll get your chance next time. If the Tanks or Racers interfere in this phase, they risk disqualification.”

“We’d lose our stamps?” Trevor checked.

“At least,” Cleon said. “If you’re going to believe anything I tell you, believe this: you don’t want Mr. White mad at you. Make him proud instead. Life can be sweet when he’s pleased.”

“What are we doing?” Nate asked.

Cleon pointed to Nate as if he had asked the right question. “The Jets or the Subs must secure an item called the Gate from a secretive wanderer known as the Hermit. The Hermit is notoriously difficult to find, but Mr. White has already taken care of that for you. The Hermit currently resides aboard the USS
Striker,
a destroyer mothballed after World War II.”

“Mothballed?” Risa asked.

“Warships held in reserve,” Pigeon said. “They’re equipped for service but not in use. Many eventually get sold as scrap.”

“Nice job, professor,” Cleon said. “The
Striker
can be found on one of the waterways adjacent to the San Francisco Bay, not too far from here. I brought a map for each of the two clubs involved.”

Pigeon collected the map for the Subs, and Chris took the map for the Jets.

“This assignment may take some finesse,” Todd said. “The Hermit’s a wily old dude. He won’t give up the Gate easily. He has been known to bargain when cornered. He’ll probably try to flee. If he gets away, it will be a major annoyance to find him again. In that case, both clubs will lose their stamps.”

“What does the Gate look like?” Lindy wondered.

“We’re unsure,” Cleon said. “From sketchy descriptions, we assume it will be a model of a gate. Should be small enough to carry.”