by Adam Sidwell
“There’s an old Gastronimatii legend about the cult coming out of the mountains in the beginning of time. They saw the polluted flavors of the world and were dismayed, so they resolved to protect what was left.”
“You think they started here?” said Guster.
Felicity shook her head. “I’m not sure. I think their history is tied up in this place, but it’s been so long, they don’t even know how.”
First Archedentus and now even the Gastronimatii might be connected to the city. The more Guster learned about El Elado, the more inevitable it seemed that Guster would come here.
“When you came to our farm and you made that mother sauce, did you know that Yummy was coming for me?” asked Guster.
Felicity’s face fell. “I couldn’t have, though it makes sense, knowing what I know now. You’re special, Guster, and as soon as you ate that single bite of the One Recipe, it sent shockwaves of taste and smell across the earth, invisible tremors that only a creature such as Yummy could have sensed.”
“Taste Resonance Theory,” said Guster.
“Exactly. That’s why you can’t let this opportunity slip through your grasp!” Her face broke into a smile, her porcelain teeth as white as a toilet bowl. “Imagine what this city has to offer the world!”
Wasn’t this just like Felicity? Guster had led her here. That jelly doughnut had been her guarantee that he wouldn’t get away. Now she was in middle of El Elado, a Celebrity Homemaker’s paradise, making grand plans for the world at large, and, once again, Guster was caught at the center of it.
“I can’t help you, Felicity,” said Guster. “I’ve got troubles of my own.”
She frowned. “No one else can do this but you,” she said.
Guster stepped away. “Right now, the only thing that matters is getting my family out of here,” he said.
The Lieutenant stood up at the bars in the cell across from Felicity’s. The Sergeant sat beside him.
“Good to see you are well, sir,” said the Lieutenant. “Whatever you do, don’t give in to the Mayor’s demands.”
Guster nodded. He wasn’t really sure what he would do. The Mayor and Salero were so . . . convincing.
Gaucho tugged on Guster’s arm. “Come. We must get back to the Mansion before the guards force us,” he said.
Guster nodded, and he and Zeke followed Gaucho through another door.
“We’ll get you out of this mess, sir,” the Lieutenant hollered after them.
Guster turned to give him a smile, and the door shut behind them.
Chapter 20—Zeke’s Binge
Guster was silent on the carriage ride back to the Mayor’s Mansion. He hadn’t realized how much he’d hoped that a visit to Mom and Dad would have given them an alternative. Not even Felicity had a plan. Princess Sunday wasn’t able to help them either. They were all just as helpless as he and Zeke were.
Their only way out was to dig.
As they turned a corner, a crowd of people flocked down the street toward the city gate. Some of them were cheering as they ran. The crowd was so large, the carriage had to stop until they had passed. “What was that about?” asked Zeke.
Gaucho shrugged. “There is something important happening. Maybe another parade. I do not know,” he said.
When they finally arrived back at the Mansion, Salero stood on the steps waiting for them. For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence. Then he sniffed and said in a low, even voice, “They’re here.”
“Who’s here?” asked Zeke.
But Guster already knew.
Salero smiled faintly. “Yummy has arrived.”
Guster did not move from the carriage seat. He could not move.
“Come,” said Salero. “I want you to see the guardians of our city in the full light of day.” He motioned, and the guards grabbed Guster and Zeke by the arms and pried them from the carriage. They marched them into the mansion, spears at the boys’ backs, and up a spiral staircase out onto a balcony that overlooked the streets below.
From here they could see the gates of El Elado. The people lined the streets, cheering and waving miniature, brightly colored blue, yellow, and red flags. They were marching toward the city’s outer wall, a mass of bodies moving shoulder to shoulder like a herd of cows. When they got to the wall, they climbed it, the crowd pinching and squeezing onto the narrow stairways that led to the top of the ramparts. They poured onto the walkway on top of the walls, leaning over and peering out into the luscious valley below.
“There, in the distance, on the edge of the valley!” shouted a man. He was pointing toward the ice cave where Guster and Zeke and Mariah had entered the city.
Guster stood, straining on his tiptoes to see. Far on the edge of the valley, a small white dot moved toward the city. Then there was another, fading into view as it drew closer. Then another. And another. There were more than a dozen of them, moving in a loose formation across the valley.
They were too big to be grizzly bears or yaks. The closer they came, the more Guster could make out their huge, muscular arms, the way their shaggy shoulders connected straight into their heads, or the wide, tooth-filled jaws that stretched across their faces.
Soon, they were at the gate, the people cheering and chanting as they came. “Yummy! Yummy! He will save us! Yummy!” they said.
“The Yeti, mighty beast of the Himalayas, is a territorial creature, always returning to its home after the hunt, ever vigilant over the mighty, forbidden peaks of the East,” Zeke recited, his voice a whisper of awe.
The flock of beasts lined up outside the gate. The largest one stood at the point, lifted his head up toward the sky, and roared.
The guards on watch at the gate turned two enormous cranks. There was a groan and the scraping of peanut brittle; a crack of sky peeked between the two doors as the gates opened.
A sudden gasp went through the crowd now that there was no barrier between them and the monsters. There was a mad dash, screaming, and shoving as the crowd pushed against each other, as if they had not realized in their excitement at the spectacle that the monster was coming into their city to walk its streets.
People locked themselves inside the nearest building or huddled on the ramparts as the first Yummy lumbered through the gates. Their feet smashed the butterscotch pavement with each step, their arms swinging slowly like two logs. There were thirteen of them in all, just like Princess Sunday had said.
Guster’s throat tightened, and he felt fear rise in his chest. They were finally here, and there were so many of them, all with fangs bared and paws that could snap bones to pieces in their grip. He’d tried so hard to escape them. He and Zeke and Mariah had come so far—halfway across the world. But now this. It was the end of the line. There was nowhere else to run.
“Are you . . .?” He forced he words from his throat, but he couldn’t finish them. He wanted to know when he would meet his fate.
“Yes. But not yet,” said Salero. “There are customs and protocols. Tomorrow. Sunset. That will be the moment when you save the city.”
Guster felt sick. Save the city. That’s what they always called it. Did they realize what that meant for him?
He wanted to see Mom and Dad again, to tell them he loved them. There was so much to say that he’d never said before but never thought he would have to.
The thirteen monsters stopped at a wall near the mansion grounds. The city streets behind them were vacant, the people having fled indoors even more quickly than they came. Some of them peeked out from their hiding places, watching and waiting.
The largest Yummy bent low, jammed both of his massive paws into the ice cream ground, and clawed a chunk free. Two more joined him, clawing and digging until they’d carved out a hole in the ground.
A smaller Yummy came from behind their ranks and dove head first, his arms clenched at his side, into the hole. He slid down and disappeared fro
m view.
The line of monsters followed, and, for a moment, they looked more like penguins than killing machines, one after another diving into their burrow. The largest turned to look behind them into the streets, sniffed the air, then turned his head upward, as if searching. He swung his massive shoulders and stub for a head toward Guster. His tiny orange eyes darted this way and that, then finally settled on Guster.
The monster held Guster’s eyes for a long, long moment. Guster could not look away, no matter how badly he wanted to run indoors or to find safety behind the Mansion’s walls.
They were clear and intelligent, more than the eyes of a beast; they were the eyes of a creature that knew what it was going to do.
Guster shuddered, gripping the banister until his knuckles ached under the strain. Yummy was not some wild beast driven by instinct. It was something more sinister. That would make him even harder to escape.
“I think we’ve seen enough,” said Zeke. He stepped between Guster and the beast. His fists were balled, and he glared hard into Salero’s face.
In that moment, Guster felt a fraction of gratitude pierce his fear. He was standing up for Guster, no matter how bad Zeke may have wanted to stare at the monster now that he could finally study it safely from a distance. Zeke was his brother, and at least that he had that.
Salero nodded slowly. “You’ll see more of him soon,” he said, his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.
At a jerk of his head, the guards took Guster and Zeke roughly by the arms and marched them back down toward their cell. Guster struggled at the spiral staircase, digging in his heels.
“Move!” said the guard, shoving him down the first step. Guster teetered, scrambling to catch his balance and bracing himself against the wall. The guards were so much stronger. Even if they broke free, how long could they last in the city before they were captured again?
Their only hope was their tunnel. They had to use the element of surprise. Even that was a long shot, but it was the best chance they had.
The Guards shoved Zeke and Guster into the cell so hard they both fell to the floor. The door slammed shut then locked behind them.
“See you tomorrow,” said one of the guards, his words muffled through the heavy door. He laughed.
That was it. Only one day left.
As soon as the door was locked behind them, Guster threw back the tapestry and crawled inside.
It wasn’t long before Guster had scooped out, and Zeke had eaten, twenty more scoops of ice cream. The hole was long enough now for both of them to fit; they had to widen it so they could reach in further. They were digging down and to the left, following Guster’s hunch.
The bricks were all made of mint chocolate chip now. Zeke scooped out another scoop and held it up to his face, wrinkling his nose. He took a bite. “Hmmm. Strawberry,” he said. “You were right.”
“They must have built over the original wall,” said Guster. “The Mayor probably did not want any trace of Princess Sunday’s influence left in his part of town.” That meant the city must have at one time been united—a full range of flavors.
The two of them fell into a silent routine: Zeke used the ice cream scoop to scoop out and eat as much as he could, then switched places with Guster so he could sample the tunnel’s right, left, bottom, and top. The deeper they dug into the strawberry tunnel, the more he could taste the Confectioners’ pride in their work. He could taste how much they loved what they had built.
The tunnel grew. They were at least two body lengths into the strawberry now. Zeke’s belly was stretched tight like a sheet over a basketball; it bulged so ferociously from his waist, it threatened to break out with every bite he took.
“It’s so delicious, it hurts,” Zeke moaned. He slid out of the tunnel and flopped down on the couch. “It’s your turn,” he said, handing over the scoop.
They began piling some of the ice cream behind the marshmallow couches to ease the burden on Zeke’s belly. “This is our last chance anyway,” said Guster.
Guster climbed into the tunnel, crawling in on his elbows. It was a tight fit, even for him. He wasn’t sure how Zeke had managed.
He wriggled his way to the end and had to stretch his arms out in front of him, scoop in hand. He dug the scoop into the ice cream and tasted it. There it was again—the pride of something well made.
He scraped again, ate, and scraped. He tasted another mouthful. Vanilla. He had broken through to another layer. A flavor that was pure and good.
So he followed it.
There was something different about this flavor. Less pride. Less patriotism. More . . . it was hard to name. It was a wild and fierce vanilla, like a pack of wolves or a grizzly bear.
Guster stopped. There weren’t very many likely suspects that had touched this flavor. But this one . . . it was the last thing he wanted to taste. The hint of wild ferocity was unmistakable. Yummy. It had to be.
A lump turned in his throat. Was he digging toward their den? That’s how it tasted.
He forced himself to take yet another bite, his fingers trembling, his skin numb with cold. He should back out. He should run. He should dig another way.
But there was also something else in the flavor. It was surprising and curious, and most of all, unexpected. Goodness. Friendship. Like a dog to his master. An undying devotion that hid somewhere between the bared fangs and snarls.
Guster pushed himself out of the tunnel.
“What? What’s wrong?” asked Zeke.
He eased himself onto the floor and sat there, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t know. A new flavor,” he said.
This was not something he’d expected to taste. It was not something he could even be sure was real. It was like seeing a figure through a haze—just a silhouette, a muffled voice.
“I think Yummy’s lair is down there,” he said. It scared him to be that close. The focused intensity in that Yummy’s eyes flashed across his mind.
“Zeke, I don’t want them to eat me,” Guster whispered. What if he never saw home again? What if this was the last time he’d see Mom or Dad? Oh how he wanted to feel a warm summer on his cheeks again.
“Then dig another way,” said Zeke.
Reluctantly, Guster crawled back into the tunnel. This time he dug upward, keeping himself as far away from the vanilla tunnel as he could.
They dug into the night. Guster lost track of how many shifts he took inside the tunnel. He rotated with Zeke every hour. They seemed to be tunneling into the plateau on which the city was built.
Somewhere around the third hour Guster hit chocolate marble swirl. It tasted of ambition and jealousy but did not hold the ferocity of Yummy’s vanilla. Anything was better than that.
Their cell was filled with ice cream now. There was no way to hide it or even eat all of it. The only chance they had was to be gone before the Guards came with their morning bowl of cold stew. If they hadn’t tunneled out by then, it would all be over.
Somewhere around his fourth shift outside the tunnel, he felt Zeke shake him. Guster had fallen asleep leaning against the wall. He was exhausted. “P, we have to do this,” said Zeke, urging him back into the hole. Guster climbed in, shaking the sleep from his foggy head.
He began to dig, faster now than before, when he heard sounds, somewhere deep inside the chocolate marble swirl wall.
He stopped to listen. They were muffled voices. This was a good sign.
Guster dug toward them. The scoop broke through into empty air. The hole was only a few finger-widths across, but it was wide enough for light to spill into the tunnel in one, pencil-thin beam. A soft gust of fresh air broke into the tunnel onto Guster’s face.
The voices were clearer now. “You know that if Yummy doesn’t eat the boy, this will be the end of your tenure as Mayor.” It was Salero.
Guster froze.
“You’ve been far too outspoken on the matter to the Culinary,” Salero continued, “and all the people are well aware of where you stand.”
“Yes, I have,” sighed the Mayor. “But I stand by what I’ve said. The Flatlanders are a plague on this city. Yummy must be satisfied.”
“And if the boy isn’t the Exquisite Morsel?” asked Salero. “Yummy will reject him. The people will never trust you again. Then you’ll have a rebellion on your hands.”
There was silence. Guster held his breath.
He had to try to get a better vantage point. He shifted himself ever so slowly up toward the tiny hole, moving sloth-like until he could see through it.
There was a foot behind a large desk only a few feet in front of the hole. Guster had broken through at floor level. Of all places, he had tunneled straight into the Mayor’s office.
From his angle, he could see as high as the Mayor’s desk. Salero was seated opposite the Mayor, but Guster couldn’t see his face from the tunnel.
What he could see was the statue of a head on the Mayor’s desk. The very same one that Guster had noticed on his first visit there but had never looked in the face. He recognized him instantly. He had seen paintings of him before in Felicity Casa’s castle in France. He had even seen that face in a dream when he’d first tasted the Gastronomy of Peace.
Right there, on the Mayor’s desk, was a statue of Archedentus.
“If only you were here to tell us what to do,” said the Mayor. He laid a hand on the statue’s base. He was talking to it. “You founded this city. You’re the reason we’re here.”
Archedentus? So Felicity was right. He had been here. The conquistadors who had founded the city must be the same ones Archedentus sailed with so many centuries ago, which would put the great chef right here, as one of the founding members of El Elado.
But the Gastronimatii—they had started here in this city too, according to Felicity. How could that have happened in the same place?
“If the boy isn’t the Exquisite Morsel,” said Salero, “then you must find a way to eliminate him yourself.”