The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (23 page)

The girls jogged toward the man at a normal speed, and Trevor tagged along. The man looked up as the girls approached. “Evening,” he said.

“Hi,” Paige began in a bright, friendly voice. “We’re looking for the Graywater family. Could you help us out?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What would you kids want with the Graywaters?”

“We have a present for them,” Hailey invented.

“Were you invited?” the man asked. “How do you know them?”

“They’re old friends of my family,” Claire said. “We’re bringing them a surprise.”

The man shook his head. “The Graywaters don’t like uninvited guests. I hope you kids know what you’re doing.”

“Are they mean?” Paige asked innocently.

“Not mean,” the man responded. “Just private. They own the park. If your family knows them, I expect it’ll go all right.” He waved an arm to indicate a direction. “Last unit in the back. Green with white trim. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” the girls answered in chorus.

The man nodded, turning and flicking his wrist as he started dampening a new area. Trevor kept quiet and trotted away with the girls. Once they passed out of the man’s view they sped up again.

Trevor had misgivings about their strategy. If the Tanks were hurrying, the pause talking to the man had given them a chance to catch up quite a bit. If he and the girls didn’t get the map quickly, how long before the Tanks showed up and bullied their way to the prize?

Trevor did not want the Racers to lose. Summer was a Tank, but she had more capable people on her team. If they didn’t want Jonas White to reach his goals, they needed Hailey, Paige, and Claire helping him rather than the Tanks.

The girls slowed back to a regular pace as the green trailer came into view. It was by far the nicest trailer in the park—larger, newer, and better appointed. It had a neat lawn with a tidy fence. A small satellite dish perched on the roof, aimed skyward. Flowers bloomed in the window boxes. A large porch with glider chairs and a swinging bench provided a shaded sitting area. Trevor had a great aunt who had retired to a trailer park, living in a nice little place similar to this one.

The Racers hurried over to the modest yard. Hailey opened the gate. Paige led the way up to the porch, opened the screen, rapped on the door, then stepped back. Trevor waited at the bottom porch step. He kept glancing over his shoulder so he could spot the inevitable arrival of the Tanks.

The door was opened by a tall Native American with an athletic build and high, hollow cheekbones. He wore a displeased scowl and remained behind the screen. “Who gave you permission to enter my yard?” he asked in a low voice devoid of humor.

“How were we supposed to knock?” Paige asked defiantly.

“Call from beyond the gate,” he said.

“Are you Mr. Graywater?” Claire asked.

“This is the Graywater residence,” he said. “I own this mobile home park. Strangers are unwelcome here. That includes solicitors. You kids are trespassing.”

Trevor avoided making eye contact with Mr. Graywater. He didn’t like the way the conversation was headed. There was still no sign of the Tanks.

“Of course we’re strangers,” Paige said lightly. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Paige. This is Claire, Hailey, and Trevor.”

“William Graywater,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“We need the map to the Protector,” Paige said simply.

His eyes widened. He looked beyond the kids, as if expecting other enemies. “Who sent you?”

“Why would somebody have to send us?” Hailey asked.

“We need it for a school project,” Claire improvised.

“Celia!” William called, his eyes on Paige. “Ted! Horace! Arrista! You know what to do!”

“We’re not leaving without it,” Paige said. “Make this easy on yourself and hand it over.”

One of William’s hands disappeared to the side of the door and reappeared with a sword. The long, silvery blade had a slight curve at the tip. From somewhere behind William, Trevor heard the double crunch of somebody working the action of a shotgun, and he took an involuntary step back. William glowered. “We’re ready to protect the guidestone with lethal force. This is your last chance to leave.”

“You’re going to stab us over some map?” Claire asked, annoyed.

“Do you have any idea what I’m protecting?” William challenged incredulously.

“Uweya,” Hailey said matter-of-factly.

“My family has guarded the guidestone for countless generations,” William said. “We have sacrificed much to keep Uweya safe, for if it fell into the wrong hands—”

“Whatever,” Paige said. “We’d rather be stabbed than bored to death.”

William angrily slammed the door.

“Tanks,” Trevor called as Summer, Roman, Derek, and Ruth rushed around the side of the nearest trailer.

“Now what?” Claire asked. “Did you hear the shotgun?”

“We let the Tanks do it,” Trevor said. “Otherwise they could corner us in the trailer. We won’t have much room to maneuver.”

“And lose our stamps?” Paige scoffed. “As if!”

“We’re fast,” Trevor argued. “We can try to swipe it back.”

The girls hesitated.

“Unless you plan to beat the door down, then dodge shotgun blasts with the Tanks on your tail. Do what you want—I’m backing off.”

Trevor ran at his highest speed away from the trailer toward the nearest oak. He heard the girls following.

Chapter Fifteen

The Guidestone

Summer watched Trevor speed away from the trailer with the other Racers. They streaked to an oak tree and gathered behind it.

“They want us to do the dirty work,” Roman said.

“I don’t mind doing the work,” Derek said. “But I don’t want them stealing the prize.”

“Did that guy have a sword?” Ruth asked. She had been the final addition to the Tanks. Soon to enter seventh grade, Ruth was thickset and tall for her age. She wore her reddish hair in two short pigtails.

“Looked like it,” Summer said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Roman said. “We have to remember that. Swords, bullets, none of that matters anymore. But we’ll have to watch the Racers. They’re scary fast.”

“Well, we’re scary strong,” Derek said. “Whoever gets the map holds it tight. The rest of us protect it.”

“Sounds like the right idea,” Roman said, striding toward the green and white trailer.

“We don’t want to hurt anybody,” Summer interjected.

“Not permanently,” Roman agreed. “But Racers who don’t want to get hurt shouldn’t mess with Tanks.”

They passed through the gate and walked up to the porch. Roman opened the screen and knocked.

“Go away,” a voice called from inside. “I don’t want to hurt a bunch of kids.”

“We don’t want to hurt a grown-up,” Roman called back. “We’re just here for the map. Open up or we’ll bust the door down.”

“Touch my door and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” the man replied. “Walk away.”

Roman kicked the door just below the handle. The wood splintered a little, but the door held. Roman kicked it again and the door tore open, ripping away part of the wall with it.

A grim Native American man stood beyond the door, a shiny sword held ready. Behind him was a comfortably furnished combined living room and dining room. Doors led away from the living area on both sides. “That door was reinforced,” he said.

“Not enough,” Roman replied, stepping inside. “Back off.”

“Last warning,” the man said, knuckles tight on his sword handle.

“Go for it,” Derek invited. “Or don’t. Either way, we’re taking the map.”

With a sigh, the man set the sword aside and quickly grabbed Roman. Squirming, Roman seized the man’s arm with both hands, twisted, and hurled him to the ground. Derek pounced, putting him in a headlock.

“Who are you?” the man growled in surprise, grasping at the headlock but unable to wrench it loose.

“We already told you,” Roman said. “We’re the guys taking your map. Just tell us where it is. We don’t want to tear up your house.”

Summer felt sick. She knew they were after the map to try to help John and Mozag, but invading this man’s home was wrong. He had set aside his sword because, regardless of his duty, he didn’t want to chop up a bunch of kids. She had no doubt that he was the noble guardian of a secret that needed to stay hidden. Seeing him on the floor in a chokehold made her want to kick Derek in the face.

“Ease up,” Summer demanded.

Derek looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you kidding? This guy is strong! I can barely hold him.”

“Do it!” the man cried, his voice hoarse because of the stranglehold.

A loud blast sounded from an unseen room, followed by a rumble that Summer could feel through the floor. She and the others all jumped. Then came the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being reloaded.

“Shoot us, stab us,” Roman said, “you can’t stop us.”

A second Native American man dashed into the room with a stun gun in one hand and a hinged club in the other. Wires launched from the stun gun and hit Roman. An instant later, Roman was flopping on the ground.

Ruth charged the man, who raised his padded club and swatted her. The blow glanced off the side of her head but did nothing to slow her as she tackled him to the floor.

Summer stood frozen. She didn’t want to join the fight. The Graywaters weren’t enemies. These were good people defending their home, trying to protect a dangerous secret.

Ruth straddled the man with the hinged club, sitting high on his chest, holding his wrists pinned beside his head. With the current no longer jolting him, Roman jerked the wires from his clothes.

“Are you all right?” Summer asked.

“I’m okay,” he replied, leaning over the man in the headlock. “That didn’t feel really great. Somebody tries something like that again, we start breaking bones.”

The man in the chokehold was red in the face. Tendons stood out in his neck. “You’re not children. You’re demons in disguise.”

Roman shrugged. “Whatever we are, you’d better cough up the map.”

An older woman shuffled into the room using a cane. “You want the guidestone? Take it! You’ll take it anyway.” She held up a smooth stone sphere between her thumb and forefinger.

Roman crossed to her. “A marble?”

“Do you know so little?” the woman replied. “It will lead you to the Protector.”

“Arrista, no!” the man in the chokehold protested.

“It’s for the best, William,” Arrista replied. “If we have lost the cover of our secrecy, we can no longer protect the map.”

Roman took out a drawstring bag and withdrew a pinch of Finder’s Dust. He let it fall, and the particles drifted away from the woman’s hand, toward a doorway opposite from where she had emerged.

“You think you can fool us?” Roman accused.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. “It was worth a try.”

The man Ruth straddled made a strangled sound. “Should we start really hurting them?” she asked with frightening casualness.

“Let’s start with the old lady,” Roman said.

Summer hoped he was bluffing. It was hard to tell.

“No,” William said, the word weighted with despair. “We’re defeated, I admit it. Don’t make them suffer for my failings. You have Finder’s Dust. It’s only a matter of time before you claim your prize. Release me and I’ll give you what you want.”

Roman picked up the sword, then nodded at Derek, who released William. Derek positioned himself near Arrista. William stood, rubbing his neck.

“Any tricks, you let them have it,” Roman told Derek and Ruth.

“What was with the big boom?” Derek asked.

“Warning shot,” Arrista said.

“Then where is the gun?” Roman asked.

“I’ll go check,” Summer said.

She walked past Arrista into a narrow hall with a small bedroom on either side. In one of the bedrooms, acrid smoke hung in the air. Shattered crystal fragments rested on the charred carpeting. A shotgun leaned against the wall.

“I think they destroyed something in here!” Summer called.

Roman trotted over to look. “Great,” he muttered. He turned and raised his voice. “Was that the map? Did you blow up the map?”

William gave a grim chuckle. “If we could destroy the map, our ancestors would have done so long ago.”

“Then what’s the mess in there?” Roman pressed.

“Something valuable,” William replied glumly. “Something private. Something we did not want taken. Something that can never be replaced.”

“We wouldn’t have taken it,” Roman said. “We just want the map. Take us to it. Or should I use the Finder’s Dust?”

“Don’t bother,” William said, leading Roman and Summer to the other side of the living room, where a door gave access to a largish bedroom with a comfortable bathroom attached. William lifted the queen-sized bed, folding it up into the wall. Pulling a rug aside, he revealed a trapdoor.

“Down there?” Roman asked.

In reply, William produced a key, inserted it, and opened the trapdoor. He started down a ladder, then glanced up at Roman. “You coming?”

“Is this an ambush?” Roman asked.

“You have my mother and my brother,” William said. “You are fortified by potent magic. Come on.”

Roman and Summer followed William down the long wooden ladder into a secret cellar. Homemade shelves held canned food supplies. Numerous unmarked crates cluttered the dusty room. Sliding some cans aside, William pulled a loose block from the wall and produced a smooth stone marble like the one his mother had offered.