Arcade Catastrophe
Page 45
“Why freeze us?” Mindy asked defiantly.
“Out of concern for your welfare,” Jonas replied smoothly. “You may have reacted poorly to some of my news. Out of the water, you’re as vulnerable as any ordinary schoolchildren, and I would hate to see any harm befall you.”
“What news?” Pigeon asked.
Jonas placed his hands behind his back. “This treasure hunt is a very sensitive matter. Now that you have lost your stamps to the Jets, I cannot permit you to leave here until our competition is over.”
“What?” Drew exclaimed.
“You never said anything about this!” Steven accused.
“My parents will freak out,” Mindy warned.
Jonas shuffled over to Mindy and patted her shoulder. “I have seen to it that your parents will disregard your disappearances. Nobody will even realize you’re gone. At the end of all this, I’ll deliver the four of you safe and sound.”
“How long?” Pigeon asked.
“As long as it takes,” Jonas answered. “Hopefully not more than a week.”
“We’ll be paralyzed like this the whole time?” Drew fretted.
Jonas furrowed his brow. “Nonsense. That would be tedious for me. Taxing. You’ll remain inert until I deliver you to your cells.”
“Cells?” Steven cried hysterically.
Jonas waved a hand. “I could call them guest rooms, but that would be an exaggeration. You will have food, shelter—the basic necessities. Not much more. Don’t try to escape. Don’t test me. Do not forget that I have your simulacra. I was gentle this time. You had not defied me. I am only holding you here as a necessary evil. But it is necessary.” His voice hardened. “If you cross me, I will not be gentle.”
Pigeon could feel himself sweating. Unable to move, he was more aware of his perspiration than usual. He was trapped in his own body. He had never felt so helpless. He tried to think of a way out of this. Nothing came to mind.
“How will we get to our cells?” Mindy asked.
“Don’t worry about the logistics,” Jonas said amiably. “I’ll see to that. Try to relax and make the best of your situation. You will be amply rewarded upon release. That is all.”
Jonas turned and shuffled toward the door. Pigeon realized he might not get another chance to ask questions, but no sensible inquiries came to mind. If he asked about John Dart or Mozag, it would only arouse suspicion of Nate and the others. His best chance to gain information might be to simply keep his eyes and ears open as a prisoner.
After Jonas left the room, Katie approached Pigeon. Her hands traveled over him probingly. She found his stamp and kept it. She disarmed him. But fortunately she missed the tracking button.
Todd and Cleon loaded Pigeon onto a dolly, and Todd wheeled him from the room. They passed along industrial halls, turning a couple of corners before reaching an elevator.
“Are we going underground?” Pigeon said.
“You’ll see,” Todd replied, pushing the call button.
“Will he really release us?” Pigeon asked.
“Be a good prisoner, and everything should work out fine,” Todd replied.
When the elevator doors opened, Todd wheeled Pigeon inside. Pigeon was left facing the rear of the elevator. He heard the doors close, felt the elevator start descending, and then felt it stop. He heard the doors open, and Todd wheeled him out into a drab, concrete hall.
They traveled down the hall a considerable distance, passing few doorways or intersecting corridors. At last the hallway ended at a T-shaped intersection with another hall. Todd turned left, then made a few other turns before stopping outside a heavy wooden door. He unlocked it with a key and trundled Pigeon inside.
“Give it half an hour or so,” Todd said, lifting Pigeon off the dolly and setting him on his feet. “Then do yourself a favor and sit tight.”
Pigeon was left facing away from the door. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all bare concrete. A primitive toilet awaited in the corner. A flimsy cot paralleled one wall, blankets folded at the foot. Pigeon heard Todd wheel the dolly out, close the door, and lock it.
Standing still was not tiring, but whenever he attempted to move, Pigeon found it infuriating. He tried to focus on the things he could do. He blinked. He breathed. He opened and closed his mouth.
Pigeon worried about his friends. He worried about himself. How could they fight a magician who could immobilize them like this? What chance did they have against this kind of power? He thought about the button in his pocket. Hopefully the Battiatos could use it to track him here. Jonas probably didn’t have simulacra of them. Maybe they could mount a rescue. Unless these cells somehow muffled magical tracking. Lindy hadn’t been able to see several parts of Arcadeland.
Pigeon didn’t have many assets. He didn’t have his tranquilizer pistol. He had doubted whether the weapon would survive extended submersion, so it was home in his bedroom. He had brought no magical candy because he couldn’t use it with the sub stamp. Katie probably would have taken it from him anyway. All he had was his mind—and the button stuffed in his pocket.
Pigeon guessed it hadn’t been more than ten minutes when he began to regain control of his body. It started slowly—his fingers could twitch, his eyeballs could shift, his toes could stretch. Then all at once the other frozen parts of his body abruptly thawed.
His limbs felt sore and rubbery, so Pigeon walked over to the cot and sat down. He removed the button from his pocket. The Battiatos had told him that in an emergency, he could break it and they would come running.
But shouldn’t he wait? It seemed likely that if Jonas White held John and Mozag prisoner, they would be down here someplace. The underground holding area seemed plenty big and secure.
He held the button in both hands. What if he snapped it and the Battiatos couldn’t sense it? What if this underground complex was shielded against magical transmissions? Would the Battiatos at least have a sense of where and when the tracker had stopped sending a signal? It was all speculation because Pigeon had no clue how the button actually worked.
The button felt brittle in his hands. He was no Hercules, but he doubted whether he would have trouble breaking it. Wouldn’t such a move be a little hasty, though? They had wanted to get inside to do reconnaissance. He could be a bigger help to the Battiatos if he found out more about this holding area before he called them. Presumably he would get to shower occasionally, or get some exercise. He might get a chance to learn the layout of the hallways. He could try to ascertain how well the place was defended. He could even try to discover where John and Mozag were imprisoned.
“Out of concern for your welfare,” Jonas replied smoothly. “You may have reacted poorly to some of my news. Out of the water, you’re as vulnerable as any ordinary schoolchildren, and I would hate to see any harm befall you.”
“What news?” Pigeon asked.
Jonas placed his hands behind his back. “This treasure hunt is a very sensitive matter. Now that you have lost your stamps to the Jets, I cannot permit you to leave here until our competition is over.”
“What?” Drew exclaimed.
“You never said anything about this!” Steven accused.
“My parents will freak out,” Mindy warned.
Jonas shuffled over to Mindy and patted her shoulder. “I have seen to it that your parents will disregard your disappearances. Nobody will even realize you’re gone. At the end of all this, I’ll deliver the four of you safe and sound.”
“How long?” Pigeon asked.
“As long as it takes,” Jonas answered. “Hopefully not more than a week.”
“We’ll be paralyzed like this the whole time?” Drew fretted.
Jonas furrowed his brow. “Nonsense. That would be tedious for me. Taxing. You’ll remain inert until I deliver you to your cells.”
“Cells?” Steven cried hysterically.
Jonas waved a hand. “I could call them guest rooms, but that would be an exaggeration. You will have food, shelter—the basic necessities. Not much more. Don’t try to escape. Don’t test me. Do not forget that I have your simulacra. I was gentle this time. You had not defied me. I am only holding you here as a necessary evil. But it is necessary.” His voice hardened. “If you cross me, I will not be gentle.”
Pigeon could feel himself sweating. Unable to move, he was more aware of his perspiration than usual. He was trapped in his own body. He had never felt so helpless. He tried to think of a way out of this. Nothing came to mind.
“How will we get to our cells?” Mindy asked.
“Don’t worry about the logistics,” Jonas said amiably. “I’ll see to that. Try to relax and make the best of your situation. You will be amply rewarded upon release. That is all.”
Jonas turned and shuffled toward the door. Pigeon realized he might not get another chance to ask questions, but no sensible inquiries came to mind. If he asked about John Dart or Mozag, it would only arouse suspicion of Nate and the others. His best chance to gain information might be to simply keep his eyes and ears open as a prisoner.
After Jonas left the room, Katie approached Pigeon. Her hands traveled over him probingly. She found his stamp and kept it. She disarmed him. But fortunately she missed the tracking button.
Todd and Cleon loaded Pigeon onto a dolly, and Todd wheeled him from the room. They passed along industrial halls, turning a couple of corners before reaching an elevator.
“Are we going underground?” Pigeon said.
“You’ll see,” Todd replied, pushing the call button.
“Will he really release us?” Pigeon asked.
“Be a good prisoner, and everything should work out fine,” Todd replied.
When the elevator doors opened, Todd wheeled Pigeon inside. Pigeon was left facing the rear of the elevator. He heard the doors close, felt the elevator start descending, and then felt it stop. He heard the doors open, and Todd wheeled him out into a drab, concrete hall.
They traveled down the hall a considerable distance, passing few doorways or intersecting corridors. At last the hallway ended at a T-shaped intersection with another hall. Todd turned left, then made a few other turns before stopping outside a heavy wooden door. He unlocked it with a key and trundled Pigeon inside.
“Give it half an hour or so,” Todd said, lifting Pigeon off the dolly and setting him on his feet. “Then do yourself a favor and sit tight.”
Pigeon was left facing away from the door. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all bare concrete. A primitive toilet awaited in the corner. A flimsy cot paralleled one wall, blankets folded at the foot. Pigeon heard Todd wheel the dolly out, close the door, and lock it.
Standing still was not tiring, but whenever he attempted to move, Pigeon found it infuriating. He tried to focus on the things he could do. He blinked. He breathed. He opened and closed his mouth.
Pigeon worried about his friends. He worried about himself. How could they fight a magician who could immobilize them like this? What chance did they have against this kind of power? He thought about the button in his pocket. Hopefully the Battiatos could use it to track him here. Jonas probably didn’t have simulacra of them. Maybe they could mount a rescue. Unless these cells somehow muffled magical tracking. Lindy hadn’t been able to see several parts of Arcadeland.
Pigeon didn’t have many assets. He didn’t have his tranquilizer pistol. He had doubted whether the weapon would survive extended submersion, so it was home in his bedroom. He had brought no magical candy because he couldn’t use it with the sub stamp. Katie probably would have taken it from him anyway. All he had was his mind—and the button stuffed in his pocket.
Pigeon guessed it hadn’t been more than ten minutes when he began to regain control of his body. It started slowly—his fingers could twitch, his eyeballs could shift, his toes could stretch. Then all at once the other frozen parts of his body abruptly thawed.
His limbs felt sore and rubbery, so Pigeon walked over to the cot and sat down. He removed the button from his pocket. The Battiatos had told him that in an emergency, he could break it and they would come running.
But shouldn’t he wait? It seemed likely that if Jonas White held John and Mozag prisoner, they would be down here someplace. The underground holding area seemed plenty big and secure.
He held the button in both hands. What if he snapped it and the Battiatos couldn’t sense it? What if this underground complex was shielded against magical transmissions? Would the Battiatos at least have a sense of where and when the tracker had stopped sending a signal? It was all speculation because Pigeon had no clue how the button actually worked.
The button felt brittle in his hands. He was no Hercules, but he doubted whether he would have trouble breaking it. Wouldn’t such a move be a little hasty, though? They had wanted to get inside to do reconnaissance. He could be a bigger help to the Battiatos if he found out more about this holding area before he called them. Presumably he would get to shower occasionally, or get some exercise. He might get a chance to learn the layout of the hallways. He could try to ascertain how well the place was defended. He could even try to discover where John and Mozag were imprisoned.
