Arcade Catastrophe
Page 48
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.”
“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.”
