Candy Shop War (24 page)

“Stand on it,” Nate recommended. “Then you’ll land on your feet instead of on your head.”

“Think it will hold me?”

“I think we’re nothing right now. It will hold nothing.”

“Come help me balance,” Trevor said. Laying a hand on Nate’s shoulder, he got one knee up onto the circle, then lifted his opposite foot, and in a moment he was standing on the dim disk. “Should I go for it?”

“You didn’t see any sign of anybody?”

“Just our moms trying to break in and steal fudge,” Trevor said.

Nate chuckled.

“It looked quiet and dark,” Trevor continued. “I think the only light was trickling in through the windows from the street.”

“Then go for it,” Nate said.

Trevor pulled a mint from his pocket and put it in his mouth. The circle became elastic, like he was on a trampoline. Biting down, he instantly dropped through the circle to the tile floor. Raising his arms over his head, Trevor ducked down, worming the rest of himself through the round opening. There was not much room to spare, but he fit. He scooted out of the way so Nate could drop through.

Trevor had almost forgotten that he was holding his flashlight, until he saw it actually penetrating the darkness of the candy shop. The beam landed on a withered old man wearing a long feathered headdress, making Trevor feel a brief surge of panic before he recognized the figure as the wooden Indian. He switched the light off.

Sneakers slapped down against the tile floor as Nate dropped through the mirror. To Trevor it looked like a moment from a magic show—a pair of legs wearing jeans sticking out from the bottom of the table with nothing visible above it. It would make a pretty good stage trick.

Nate shimmied the rest of the way through the mirror, then crab-walked out from under the table. “I can hardly see,” Nate whispered so quietly that Trevor could barely hear him.

“Should I turn on the flashlight?” Trevor whispered back.

“Better than stumbling and making a ton of noise,” Nate said.

Trevor clicked on the light. After how busy the candy shop had been lately, it was peculiar to see it empty. Nobody behind the counter, no patrons. Everything still and silent, with candy everywhere for the taking. “Where should we look first?” Trevor asked.

“In the back,” Nate said. “Let’s try that table where Mrs. White always sits.”

After ducking under the hinged segment of the counter, they went through the batwing doors into the rear of the store. The worktables were messy, covered with various candy projects in different stages of development. On one table an oily black snake lay coiled in a cage, on another rested a fancy jade urn, on a third slouched a sack spilling burgundy powder.

Trevor shone the flashlight beam onto the table with the purple tablecloth. Nate hurried over, knelt, and lifted the tablecloth to look underneath. “Nothing,” Nate growled.

“Not so loud,” Trevor reminded him.

The two of them meticulously navigated the room, the flashlight beam slowly sweeping the shelves and worktables. They checked inside crates, boxes, barrels, and jars. They looked inside a spacious closet, a cramped rest room, and behind a door marked Private that led to a long staircase. They even investigated the cage with the snake.

“What now?” Nate asked in frustration, after the final cupboard yielded no teleidoscope.

“What’s up the stairs?” Trevor asked.

“It’s probably where Mrs. White lives,” Nate said.

“Do we dare?” Trevor asked.

“If the teleidoscope isn’t down here, it’s probably up there,” Nate said.

Trevor sighed. “After we leave, we’ll have no more Mirror Mints. This is our only shot at this. Keep those Shock Bits handy.”

Nate followed Trevor over to the door with the black and gold Private sign. They opened it, and Trevor shone his flashlight up the long staircase. Treading lightly, they took the stairs one at a time, tense, ready to retreat if necessary. A couple of times a step creaked, and they paused, waiting, listening, trying not to breathe.

At last they reached the top of the stairway and found a plain brown door with a peephole. Trevor placed a hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it. “It’s open,” he mouthed to Nate with wide eyes.

Nate motioned for him to open it further.

Switching the flashlight off, Trevor eased the door open. The room beyond was dark. Stepping through the doorway, Trevor felt thick carpeting beneath his shoes. Nate slipped in behind him. They left the door ajar.

Trevor held up a hand for Nate to wait. He could hear the sound of something large breathing. He moved his mouth near Nate’s ear and whispered, “You hear that?”

“Yes,” Nate whispered back.

Trevor cupped a hand over the end of the flashlight and turned it on. His fingers glowed red, and just enough light escaped to reveal the big, round man lying sideways on the couch, mouth gaping, heavy chest rising and falling rhythmically, huge head cushioned on one fleshy arm. He wore a white undershirt, and a blue knit blanket covered him.

The room was large, with two couches, two armchairs, an entertainment unit, and several bookcases crowded with old books and glass figurines. The entrance to a hallway yawned at one end of the room. Trevor crept away from the hallway, passing the couch, moving into the adjoining dining room and kitchen. He scanned the china cabinet and the tidy counters.

A pocket door in the dining room was shut. Trevor pushed the door sideways and it slid into the wall, revealing a roomy study designed around an impressive wooden desk. Trevor uncovered the end of the flashlight, allowing the beam to shine brightly. Nate pointed at the desk. Trevor saw the pocket watch resting alongside a leather-bound copy of
The Collected Reflections of Hanaver Mills.

“She took the book,” Nate whispered.

“Still no teleidoscope,” Trevor replied.

Nate tiptoed into the room and tried the desk drawers, sliding them open and closed with extraordinary care. When he opened the third one, he froze, then pulled out the teleidoscope, pumping his fist in silent triumph. Trevor motioned for them to go, once again dimming the flashlight with his hand. Nate picked up the book as well, following Trevor back into the dining room.

The instant Nate passed through the doorway, a blast of sound like a hundred trumpets blared for a solid three seconds. The unexpected clamor startled Trevor so much that he dropped his flashlight. Crouching to retrieve it, he saw that Nate had dropped the book, which Trevor grabbed as well.

Their ears ringing from the explosion of sound, Trevor and Nate hurried toward the front room, but stopped short when they found the big, round man on his feet, facing them, his hair matted and disheveled. He had just turned on a lamp. In his undershirt and athletic shorts, his tremendous girth was on display. From his rotund torso to his elephantine limbs, blubber deformed his body. He was tall, a few inches beyond six feet, and nearly as wide, an obese hill of a man with a grouchy head on top.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Nate said.

The big man opened his mouth, those thick, shiny lips spreading wide, as if to take a bite from a towering sandwich. His chest convulsed, and out shot an orange glob of jelly nearly the size of a grapefruit. The glistening projectile splattered against Trevor’s shoulder, about half of it continuing past him to slap the wall. The orange ooze on his shoulder writhed, shapelessly climbing toward his neck, moving like an amoeba. Shouting, Trevor wiped at the nightmare spitball, orange jelly squishing between his fingers.

The man fired another orange glob of similar size at Nate, who avoided it by diving behind the dining-room table. Having wiped away most of the ooze, Trevor joined Nate behind the table, fumbling in his pocket for the Frost Bites. Nate was also digging in his pocket.

Mouth still gaping, the big man walked toward them. Instead of expelling another glob of ooze, he sent a vast quantity of orange jelly gushing from his mouth like water from a fire hose. The stream of jelly collected on the table in a vivid, translucent mound, enough orange ooze to overflow a bathtub. The gooey pile quivered, stretched taller, and then surged off the tabletop, enveloping Nate.

Trevor scrambled away from the table back into the study, tearing open the baggie with his Frost Bites inside. Nate looked like he was drowning in orange gelatin. Only his head and one arm remained outside the rippling ooze. The big man was approaching the table, looking considerably thinner, loose skin sagging, orange jelly no longer pouring from his lips.

Trevor popped two Frost Bites into his mouth. It was his first time sampling the candy. They tasted like vanilla yogurt. For a moment he felt an intense chill sweep over him, and then his body went numb.

The translucent gelatin now totally surrounded Nate. Trevor saw his encased friend move one hand to his mouth, followed instantly by a bright flash. The electrical burst liquefied the jelly, which slopped all around him to form a dull orange pool.

Placing his palm to his mouth again, Nate arose, sparks crackling between his fingers. The pool of liquefied jelly began to flow toward the big man, who stayed on the far side of the table from Nate.

“Run to the kitchen!” Trevor called, charging the big man. Nate retreated to the kitchen, dodging around the counter. The big man backpedaled into the front room. As Trevor neared the liquefied pool, it froze solid, taking on a frosted sheen.

The big man opened his mouth and coughed a jellyball at Trevor. The sphere struck him in the chest and sent him spinning to the ground. His numbness prevented him from feeling the pain, but he heard ribs snap. It took Trevor a moment to realize that the coldness had frozen the jellyball, causing it to bash him instead of splatter.

As the big man inhaled to launch another jellyball, Trevor spit out his Frost Bites. Instantly the numbness vanished and a sharp pain blossomed in the left side of his chest. The next jellyball splashed against his forehead, soaking his hair. “Nate!” Trevor called, crawling away as the big man advanced, another jellyball slapping wetly against his back, the gelatin on his head squirming against his scalp.

Nate raced out of the kitchen, arms raised threateningly, electricity sparking from his fingertips. The big man faced Nate and spit out a glob of jelly the size of a golf ball. There was a flash as the glob struck Nate, and the tiny ball turned to liquid.

“He’s shorting out my charge,” Nate yelled, slapping more Shock Bits into his mouth just in time for another undersized jellyball to waste his electricity. “I don’t have many Shock Bits left!”

Trevor was now crawling on slick, frozen ooze. It vibrated beneath his hands and knees. Having spit out the Frost Bites, he could feel that the temperature in the apartment had lowered significantly. His breath visibly condensed in front of his face. What were his weapons? He had Moon Rocks, a couple of Mirror Mints, some Shock Bits, and his Frost Bites. “I can’t do Frost Bites!” Trevor warned, reaching for his Shock Bits. “Those balls of goo turn hard as a rock!”

“I dropped the scope,” Nate said. “Snag it.”

Glancing under the table, Trevor could see the teleidoscope lying on the far side, where the jelly had enveloped Nate. Trevor lunged under the table, sprawling on frozen ooze, ribs aching, and grabbed it.

“Surrender now and we may show you leniency,” the big man said, cheeks drooping, baggy skin sagging from his bare arms and legs. He was considerably less rotund.

Nate stood with a handful of Shock Bits ready. “I’ll eat these the second before I touch him,” Nate said. “Follow me.”

Trevor was back on his feet, teleidoscope in hand. Nate rushed the big guy, who ran right at him vomiting a blinding stream of orange jelly. Before Nate could get the Shock Bits into his mouth, the big guy caught hold of his wrists, continuing to expel ooze from his mouth. Pulsating gelatin cocooned Nate for the second time.

Trevor ran at them, teleidoscope in one hand, Shock Bits in the other. The instant before he reached them, Trevor slapped the Shock Bits into his mouth and sprang. His outstretched hand touched the gelatin, and with a flash like lightning, the ooze liquefied, the big man went tumbling, and Nate was hurled into the wall.

Ribs smarting, Trevor got another dose of Shock Bits ready and approached the big man, who was shakily rising, his body grotesquely deflated, a skeleton wearing skin ten sizes too big. Orange liquid ran toward the freakish man across the floor, as if the apartment were tilting in his direction. Just before reaching him, Trevor ate more Shock Bits, a larger dose than he had ever tried, and swatted the man on the shoulder. A blazing flash and a crack like a gunshot sent the man soaring into the entertainment unit, scattering DVDs and overturning the television.

Nate was on his feet and running for the front door. Trevor followed him, his last dose of Shock Bits ready in his palm. “Hold it!” ordered a voice that sounded like it had inhaled helium.

Trevor turned and saw the blond dwarf with the flat top crouched in the middle of the hall that led away from the front room, hands balled into fists. He wore a dark blue tank top and gray sweatpants. A white glimmer flickered about him, gradually intensifying. He had a look on his face like he was trying to lay an egg. Since the dwarf was not moving, and Trevor was almost to the door, he refrained from eating his final dose of Shock Bits.