The Candy Shop War
Page 71

Nate had considered using a Moon Rock to reach Mr. Stott’s house faster, but in broad daylight he felt he would be too conspicuous. Not everyone in town was consuming white fudge. Besides, leaping with a Moon Rock wasn’t that much faster than running. Thankfully, most of the way to Mr. Stott’s place was downhill.
Sucking on the Ironhide, trotting under the hot sun, Nate was bulletproof, but he was sweaty. He panted and rubbed the stitch in his side, wishing for a stick of Summer’s gum.
Eventually Nate diverged from Winding Way into Mr. Stott’s neighborhood. He noticed some kids around his age walking home from school, and felt a little jealous. He longed to be equally oblivious to magic candy and magicians and engineered apprentices. Of course, all he had to do was go home and devour a box of white fudge!
Which was not an option. He had to save Trevor. He had to save Summer and John. At least he had to try. Before long somebody would probably have to save him. He wondered if Pigeon needed to be saved.
Nate slowed to a walk for a block, then picked up the pace again. He turned onto Limerick Court, sprinting past the last few houses. His chest was heaving when he reached Mr. Stott’s house.
Mr. Stott opened the door before he knocked. “Come in,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Nate panted, entering. “I was worried you might be off driving your route.”
“I stuck around, hoping to hear from you,” Mr. Stott said, fingering one of the black stripes in his beard. “I tried to contact you this morning, but the phone was off.”
“I lost the phone,” Nate said. “I lost a lot of things. We had the Stargazer, but Mrs. White recruited bullies from our school who tailed us to the library. We got the ship past them, and I was running it here using Peak Performance gum, but as you know, I saw the fat guy full of jelly waiting near your house in ambush. His name is Mauricio. So I took the ship home, planning to bring it here in the morning, but the wooden Indian from the candy shop came and stole it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Stott said, his gaze steady.
“It gets worse. This guy named John Dart was my substitute teacher today.”
The name John Dart gave Mr. Stott a start. “John Dart? Here in town?”
“He told us you guys are after a drink from the Fountain of Youth and that he had to stop you. He seemed honest, and filled in a lot of blanks, so we decided to help him. He kidnapped Eric, one of the bullies, and found out that the treasure room is under Mt. Diablo Elementary.”
“Under the school?” Mr. Stott said. “Two Haags work at your school! One of them, Gary, is from the line that has been here in town since the old days. He was on my short list of suspects.”
“Gary was the guy,” Nate confirmed. “Summer and I went to his house with John to pick him up, but Mauricio and the dude with the birthmark beat us there. I barely got away, and they captured John and Summer. They missed nabbing Gary, but they know where he was going. Have you heard of Haags named Burt and Starla?”
Mr. Stott nodded. “They live a ways outside of town. We better get going. Run and say hello to the Flatman, and I’ll meet you in the garage.” He shook his keys and walked toward the door in his kitchen.
Nate hurried down the hall and peeked into the Flatman’s room, feeling unsure what to say to the odd creature. “Hi, Flatman. Mr. Stott is taking me in his truck to chase some guy. I’ll see you soon.”
The Flatman’s fins fluttered.
Nate ran to the garage, joining Mr. Stott in the truck. Mr. Stott hit the gas, leaving the garage door open as they rumbled onto Limerick Court.
“The Flatman told me you were coming and that you would need a ride,” Mr. Stott said. “That’s why I was ready and waiting.”
“I just told him you were taking me in your truck,” Nate said.
“Which is probably what he saw.”
“The birthmark guy is powerful,” Nate warned. “John called him a Fuse. He made the grass turn huge and tangle us up.”
“Nobody wants to contend with a Fuse,” Mr. Stott said. “But Belinda has the map and knows where to find the key. This could be our last opportunity to derail her.”
“I’m with you,” Nate said. “This might be my only chance to save my friends.”
“Burt and Starla live off the beaten path,” Mr. Stott said. “Do you have much candy left?”
“A little,” Nate said. “My second-to-last Ironhide faded to nothing while we were talking in your house. I have one left. They’ve been lifesavers.”
“I wish I had more candy to offer you,” Mr. Stott said. “Our best chance will be to beat Mrs. White’s thugs to Burt and Starla’s.”
“We might make it,” Nate said. “I came straight to you. It seemed like the others were taking John and Summer back to the candy shop.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
They drove out of town on Main Street, and then turned on Gold Coast Drive. The road wove among golden-brown hills and oak-filled valleys. Sprigs of wildflowers blossomed among the brush. Nate was impressed that on some stretches, Mr. Stott got the old truck up to over sixty miles per hour.
About ten minutes into the drive, a dirt road marked Orchard Lane branched off from Gold Coast Drive. “This is our last turn,” Mr. Stott said. At first, the dirt road was flat and drivable, but the further they meandered into the hills, the more rutted the road became, and soon they were jouncing along at fifteen miles per hour.
“We getting close?” Nate asked.
Mr. Stott glanced at his odometer. “A few more miles,” he said.
Nate repeatedly checked the big side mirrors, watching the empty road behind them, worried that their enemies could overtake them at any moment. The ice cream truck often slowed to less than ten miles per hour.
They were traversing a field where an old wooden bridge spanned a dry creekbed. Tall golden brush thrived everywhere, along with old oaks and a few huge bushes.
Off to one side of the road, a black Hummer pulled out of hiding from behind a screen of shrubs.
“Oh, no,” Mr. Stott said.
The Hummer raced toward them, gaining speed as it bounced through the brush. Mr. Stott tried to accelerate, but the road was particularly rutted, and he almost overturned the top-heavy truck. Rocks scraped against the undercarriage. “What do we do?” Nate asked.
“Ironhide,” Mr. Stott said.
Nate fished out his last Ironhide and put it in his mouth. It became evident that the Hummer meant to broadside them. Mr. Stott swerved off the road and accelerated, trying to avoid the collision, but the Hummer rammed into the side of the Candy Wagon near the rear. The truck spun and flipped upside down. Dreamlike and slow after the initial jolt, the inverted ice cream truck rocked and slammed down on its side.