by Brandon Mull
“Like flying through fifty blenders,” Nate said, surveying the lethal obstacles. “It doesn’t matter that we can fly. There are as many traps up high as down low. If we don’t get shredded into pasta, we’ll get crushed into paste.”
“There must be a pattern to it,” Lindy said.
“There’s a pattern,” Chris agreed. “Look at any specific part of the corridor. That pillar just goes up and down, same every time. That spike pokes in and out, over and over. That huge blade swings side to side. But the pattern is designed not to let anything through. We might dodge the first few blades, but then what? It’s the length of a football field!”
“Afterward we’d have to come back,” Risa pointed out.
“Is there a path through it?” Nate asked. “Like if we start on the lower right, then fly along the upper left side, then in the center, that sort of thing?”
They considered the passage together. Light glinted off sharp points and slashing blades. Nate traced possible routes through the obstacle course.
“They covered everything,” Chris said. “High and low, left and right, down the middle. The only hope would be to dodge and dodge and dodge perfectly for a really long time.”
“No way,” Risa said. “We’d have a better chance if we got flushed through a garbage disposal. Or caught under a lawn mower. Or sucked into a jet engine. Or—”
“We get it,” Lindy interrupted. “You’re not wrong. What do we do?”
“The Tanks would be suited for this,” Nate realized. “They can move super fast, and, even if they messed up, they might survive the damage.”
“Good for them,” Chris said bitterly. “How does that help us?”
“Somebody has to get the Protector,” Nate said. “If we go after it, we’ll find out what our insides look like.”
“You think we should let them have it?” Risa asked.
“I think we should let them get it,” Nate said. “Kind of like how they let us bring the chest up from the lighthouse. I’m not saying we should let them keep it.”
Chris shook his head. “They’re too strong and fast. Once they have it, we’ll never get it back.”
“Our whole strategy is built around never letting them catch up,” Lindy said.
“That was before we knew we’d have to go through a meat grinder,” Nate said. “Killing ourselves isn’t an option. Look at that hallway! We’d be lunch meat in seconds! But that doesn’t mean we have to give up. On land, we’d never get the Protector from the Tanks. Our advantage is in the air and in the water. We’re on an island. We’ll have a chance when they leave.”
“They might be in a boat,” Chris said.
“Then we sabotage it,” Nate said. “We sink it.”
“They’d still be strong and fast in the water,” Risa said.
“But they’ll need to breathe,” Nate said. He paused, aware that they were trying to recover the final object Jonas White would need to claim Uweya. Obviously they needed to beat the Tanks. But if they succeeded, what then? The time had come to find out whether Chris and Risa would assist with his real mission. “We need to talk about something.”
“What?” Chris said.
“Jonas White is a bad guy,” Nate said.
“Well,” Chris replied uncomfortably, “he’s kind of scary.”
“Not just scary,” Nate said. “Not just intimidating. Not just bossy. Evil. Jonas White is not the only magician in the world. Some are good, some are in between, and some are really bad. I fought a magician who was trying to take over everybody in Colson. It was Mr. White’s sister.”
“Does that make him evil?” Risa asked.
“She used a treat called white fudge to tame everyone,” Nate said. “It was addictive and made them oblivious to her magic. With his nacho cheese, Jonas is using a similar trick to mess with our parents and many other people. There’s a magical police force that protects the world from evil magicians. Jonas White captured their leader along with one of their best detectives and is holding them prisoner. I’m here undercover. I’ve been investigating the arcade to help them. Same with some of my friends.”
“It’s all true,” Lindy said. “I know about it too. To make matters worse, Jonas White is also making the kids from the losing clubs disappear. His people may tell us they gave them special assignments, but what are nonmagical kids going to do? And why would the kids completely vanish?”
“What do you want us to do?” Chris asked.
“We need to stop Jonas from getting Uweya,” Nate said. “He’s a bad guy, and it’s really powerful. If he succeeds, it won’t just be bad for us. It’ll be bad for the whole area. Maybe even the whole world.”
“Mr. White has those simulacra of us,” Risa said. “How could we fight him?”
“We’ll have to worry about that later,” Nate said. “First I need to know whether I can count on you. I haven’t told you guys much about this yet because I couldn’t risk you warning Mr. White. But I can’t be careful anymore. We’re running out of time. The powers Jonas White gave us are fun, but once he has what he wants, he’ll get rid of us. He’s not our friend.”
“I believe you, Nate,” Chris said. “It makes a lot of things make sense. Is Lindy a magician too? Is that why she sees so well?”
Lindy shook her head. “I have a fake eye. The magician who Jonas captured gave it to me. It sees better than a normal eye.”
“Risa?” Nate asked.
“I’ll help,” she said. “I was stressed he might be evil ever since I saw my wax twin.”
“We have to get the Protector from the Tanks,” Nate said. “Summer is on our side, but she doesn’t think she can get the other Tanks to turn against Mr. White. Which means if we want to stop him, we first need to beat the Tanks.”
“Do you have a plan?” Chris asked.
“I think so,” Nate said. “It depends on what supplies we can find in time.”
He started flying back toward the entrance of the magical structure. The others followed. They emerged onto the slope of Angel Island, with a prime view of the San Francisco skyline.
“Oh, no,” Lindy said in a loud whisper. “We need to hide. The Tanks are on the island, coming straight toward us. They’re almost here!”
*****
“This way!” Roman said excitedly, his eyes on the little compass that pointed toward Nate’s bracelet. “We have to catch up before they get it!”
Summer glanced at her compass, which was attuned to Lindy. As they ran along the slope, the needle swiveled more than ever, forcing more frequent course corrections, which meant they had to be close. She worried that Nate hadn’t had enough time to get the Protector. Roman had made an educated guess, and it was about to pay off.
While studying the map before the challenge began, Roman had pointed out Angel Island almost immediately. “They know we’re in a car. They like the water and we don’t. It’s not far from Yerba Buena Island. Jonas left it as an option. If I were them, and the chest was heavy, I’d go there.”
“And if the chest isn’t heavy?” Derek had challenged.
“We lose,” Roman said. “They’ll fly it someplace really far. We’ll still try to track them down, but I bet we won’t make it.”
And so when the competition had started, Roman had directed the driver to head straight to Tiburon. The town of Tiburon occupied a peninsula that ended less than a mile from Angel Island. The Tanks had crossed the Bay Bridge, then passed over the Golden Gate Bridge, continuing until they reached Tiburon and drove to the end of the peninsula.
At the tip of the peninsula, their compasses had pointed toward Angel Island. Derek had talked about stealing a boat, but Roman had insisted they couldn’t risk the attention. Instead they swam across the gap to Angel Island. As Tanks, they were heavier than normal, but between her increased speed and her enhanced strength, Summer had found that she could swim a little better than usual. The others had felt the same way. Even so, the crossing had been scary in the dark. But they had made i
t, and now, clothes dripping, they were closing in on the Jets.
“Whoa,” Ruth said. “They’re moving.”
“My compass is going nuts too,” Derek said.
“My needle is turning too quickly,” Roman said. “They must be nearby, in the air.” He frantically looked skyward.
Summer looked up as well. She saw no flying kids in the moonlight. They would probably be hard to see unless they crossed directly in front of the moon. “Do they have the Protector?” she asked.
“If they do, we lost,” Roman growled, increasing to maximum speed.
Summer and the other Tanks sped up to stay with him. Being a Tank gave Summer extra strength and endurance, but she still felt the draining effects of running at top speed. She did not expect she could keep it up for more than a minute or two without getting totally wiped out.
Roman had stopped, and she came to a standstill beside him. He was facing a strange stone building that protruded from the slope. A miniature replica of the building jutted from the slope in front of the open bronze door. They shifted down to race mode.
“Looks like they came and went,” said Summer, feeling huge relief at the thought that the Jets might be under way with the Protector in their care.
Roman looked down at his compass. “They didn’t fly toward Arcadeland. At least not Nate. He went back toward Tiburon.”
“Risa too,” Ruth said.
“And Chris,” Derek chimed in. “Maybe we scared them off. Maybe they’re running.”
“The Racers tried the same thing,” Roman said. “Once they saw us coming, they let us do the hard part, then tried to steal the prize. Let’s hope the Jets are equally stupid. Come on.”
Roman led the way into the long hallway. Summer could see light glimmering toward the end of the passage.
“What is this place doing here?” Derek wondered.
“It must have something to do with the chest,” Roman said. “Maybe the chest led them here. This building sure doesn’t seem to belong.”
“Hear that?” Summer asked.
“Are those drums?” Roman wondered.
“Not just drums,” Derek said. “Listen.”
“Let’s check it out,” Roman said.
They charged down the hall at top speed. By the time they reached the corner, Summer was breathing hard. Shifting down to race mode, she stared in amazement at the assortment of whirling blades, stabbing spikes, and pounding pillars.
“Could they have flown through this?” Derek wondered.
Roman glared at the deadly obstacles for a moment. “No way. Even at top speed, we’ll have a tough time. If they had tried, they’d be splattered all over the walls.”
“I think you’re right,” Summer said, trying to hide her disappointment. Even with everything three or four times slower than usual, some of the blades were moving quite fast. She couldn’t see a route she would take to fly through the sharp-edged maze. Nate almost certainly didn’t have the Protector. She would have to find a way to deliver it.
“Then we just need to claim our prize,” Roman said.
“Might not be easy,” Ruth remarked.
Roman grunted his agreement. “No point in all of us risking it. Should we draw straws?”
“I’ll do it,” Summer said. If she had possession of the Protector, she might find a chance to get it to Nate.
“Really,” Roman said, impressed. “You’re volunteering?”
Summer shrugged. “I’ve always liked a challenge. I’m a Tank. At worst I’ll get pushed around a little.”
Roman eyed the frenetic corridor. “I don’t know, Summer. I wouldn’t want to test myself against those mashers down at the end.”
“Or some of those blades,” Derek added. “They look sharp and they’re swinging hard.”
“I wouldn’t ride through there in an actual tank,” Ruth said.
“I get it,” Summer said. “I’m not thrilled about the risk. But we need the Protector. At top speed I bet I can dodge everything.”
“Okay,” Roman said. “Be careful.”
“Give me a second to recover,” Summer said. “We shouldn’t have run here so quickly.”
“Take your time,” Roman said. “Ruth, go watch the entrance. Make sure the Jets don’t try to sneak up on us.”
“Sure,” Ruth said. Summer watched her walk away, her shoulders hunched. Ruth rarely spoke much. She always followed whatever Roman told her.
“I’ll come help out if you get into trouble,” Roman said, patting Summer’s arm.
“We’ll be watching your back,” Derek pledged.
Summer stared down the deadly corridor. She felt like she had most of her energy back. When she switched into her fastest mode, the frenzy of blades and spears slowed. Nothing was terribly fast now, and many things were comically slow. Some stretches of the corridor still appeared dangerous, but now it seemed survivable.
She started forward. At first she advanced diagonally, zigzagging down the corridor, navigating from one side to the other while stepping over blades and dodging razor pendulums. Then she reached a portion of the hall riddled with holes. Spears thrust from the walls, ceiling, and floors fast enough to make her dance forward in a precarious rush. Twisting, sliding, and leaping, she narrowly avoided sharp points as they came up from below, down from above, and sideways from all heights.
The next stretch of the obstacle course became a mix of everything. Slow pendulum blades got in the way as other blades scythed out from the walls and floors. Jack-in-the-box spikes continued to poke at her in unpredictable rhythms. Axes swung back and forth menacingly.
At their seemingly reduced speed, any one of the obstacles would have been avoidable, but together they made Summer duck, jump, dodge, and contort as never before. The result felt like a wild game of hopscotch and dodge ball all at once. Breathing hard, Summer relied on instinct and reflex. She felt out of control as she spun, rolled, and lunged. Her progress slowed as the increasing onslaught of obstacles forced her to skip backward or focus on lateral movements rather than advance.
A blade nicked her shoulder, slicing her sleeve but not her skin. A spear grazed her leg, tearing her jeans. Staying at top speed was making her weary. After jumping a curved blade, she fell to one knee, and a spear poked her square in the shoulder, jolting her sideways into a sweeping blade that flung her forward.
Summer ended up on her hands and knees. Before she could recover, a spike from the wall hit her in the side of the head, rolling her onto her back. None of the blows had broken skin, but they felt like hard punches, and they left her unbalanced.
Summer could feel exhaustion setting in. She worried that if she remained at top speed, she might pass out. Rising to her feet, Summer shifted down into race mode.
Everything sped up around her. The formerly slow pendulums became a threat, and everything else became too quick to process. Summer skipped forward a couple of steps before she started getting hit from what seemed like all directions at once. Her body flopped around the corridor. It was like being caught in a stampede. There was no dodging anymore. She just closed her eyes and tucked her head as her body was mercilessly hammered. She was heaved forward and backward until she lost all sense of which direction was which.
Finally she came to a rest, flat on her back. Blades whirled above her. Spears protruded and retracted near her. But nothing was currently striking her.
Summer downshifted out of race mode, and everything sped up even more. Still nothing hit her. She had found a safe little pocket in the midst of all the chaos.
“Are you all right?” Roman called, his voice faint due to the surrounding commotion. “Want us to come after you?”
“I’m okay,” Summer managed. She was over halfway through the inhospitable hallway. She wasn’t bleeding. She felt pummeled and dizzy, but she didn’t think anything was broken. “I found a quiet place. I need to rest for a minute.”
Slowly her breathing returned to normal. Her clothes were tattered—her jeans had lost most
of one leg, and both of her sleeves hung in shredded ribbons. At least her body was holding up.
Pressing her cheek to the floor, Summer closed her eyes. She needed to let herself fully recover from running at top speed or she would end up getting battered again. There was no big hurry. In fact, the delay was probably just what Nate needed. It would give him time to strategize how to steal the Protector from the Tanks.
Mostly unaware of the passing time, Summer paid attention to how her body was feeling. The dizziness passed. Her heart rate lowered. Her breathing slowed. Still she waited.
“Are you awake?” Derek asked. It was hard to hear him over the pounding pillars and noisy devices all around.
“If we hadn’t run so much at top speed for no reason, I wouldn’t need a break,” Summer replied.
“We’re just making sure you’re all right,” Roman said. She didn’t think that was completely true. They were getting impatient.
“You’re welcome to go get it,” Summer said. “I can just come back.”
“You’re doing great,” Roman said.
“Did it hurt?” Derek called.
“It was like getting punched and tackled a lot,” Summer said. “I felt it, but I didn’t get cut or break any bones. I’m not even very sore anymore.”
“You were really getting thrown around,” Roman said.
“I could tell,” Summer replied. “I’m almost ready to try again.”
She took deep breaths, trying to gauge how rested she felt. It seemed like she was mostly recovered. She was almost two-thirds of the way down the corridor. She figured she had enough energy to at least make it to the end.
Summer shifted into race mode. Everything slowed. She shifted up to her fastest state, and everything slowed again.
She rolled forward, then rose to her knees. After leaning back to avoid a spear, she regained her feet and dashed forward. Once again she skipped, hopped, ducked, and dodged her way onward, feeling slightly calmer with the knowledge that even if she got hit, she should survive the beating.
Up ahead, a brutal series of pillars pummeled the ground. Even at her top speed, they moved pretty fast. Each struck with tremendous force. Summer did not want to test her Tank stamp against a direct hit. The relentless pillars looked strong enough to squash anything into a pancake.