Arcade Catastrophe
Page 59
“You know that isn’t true,” Summer countered. “You know magic is real. The things guarding Uweya are magical. Whatever Uweya is, it’s powerful, and I’m not sure Jonas White has given us any reason to believe he’s a very good person.”
“You think he’s the bad guy?” Roman said. “You think we’re the evil henchmen?”
“I think we could accidentally end up helping the bad guys if we’re not careful,” Summer said. “Did you feel like one of the good guys back at the trailer park?”
“How do you know the Graywaters were so good?” Roman said. “What if Uweya could do a lot of good but they’re keeping it hidden?”
“Well, I know they didn’t send anybody to break down our doors and steal our stuff. And they didn’t try to hurt us when they could have. They didn’t make creepy statues that can control us, or send kids on life-threatening missions.”
“Do you want out?” Roman asked with some heat in his tone. “Is that what this is about? Nobody is making you go, Summer. The three of us will be just fine.”
“It isn’t that,” Summer said. “I’m just not sure we should deliver Uweya to Jonas.”
“You think we should keep it?”
“Maybe nobody should have it,” Summer said.
“Look,” Roman said, “we wouldn’t even know about Uweya if it weren’t for Mr. White. If we don’t get it for him, somebody else will. Which means somebody else will be Tank Racers, or maybe flying Tank Racers, and we’ll be back to normal. I agreed to this treasure hunt, and I’m going to fulfill my agreement. Whatever else I think about Mr. White, one thing seems certain to me—he’s not the kind of guy you double-cross.”
“I guess you’re right,” Summer said, feeling nothing of the sort. “I’d hate to lose my stamps.”
“I’m sure this will be intense,” Roman said, “but what can happen to us? We’re super fast and almost impossible to hurt. If we work together, we’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Summer said. “Thanks for talking me through it. Part of my problem is that I’m nervous.”
“No sweat, I get it. Should we grab those burgers before it gets too late?”
“Sure.”
Summer had talked to Nate earlier. He felt confident that Chris and Risa were beginning to distrust Jonas. Plus he had a sure ally in Lindy. As she walked toward dinner with Roman, Summer determined that whatever else happened tonight, she needed to make sure the Tanks didn’t win.
*****
Nate flew beside Lindy above SR-24, gaining altitude over the hills where the freeway disappeared into the Caldecott Tunnel. He could hardly believe they were about to plunge into the San Francisco Bay in search of hidden treasure. He wondered if the Tanks were behind them on the road, heading toward Yerba Buena Island, or if they had some other strategy.
The Jets had consulted the map and decided that if the chest was too heavy to fly far, they would transport it to Angel Island. The Tanks had a driver, but getting to the island would surely prove problematic. Of course, if the chest was light enough, they would simply fly it an absurd distance into the wilderness.
Having studied the map, the Jets had no trouble following SR-24 until it met up with I-580, and then continuing to I-80 and the Bay Bridge. The Jets flew high over the water, staying well away from the bridge. Dressed in dark clothes, gliding far from any lights, Nate felt invisible. From his lofty vantage above the bay, the gleaming spires of the San Francisco skyline looked beautiful. A cool breeze filled his nostrils with the humid smell of the sea.
Some distance from Yerba Buena Island, the Jets joined together in a hovering huddle. Risa held a large bowl, and Chris put the guidestone inside. They watched the stone marble roll to a certain side of the bowl, then moved off in that direction. After they had checked several more times, the guidestone finally settled squarely in the bottom of the bowl.
“We should be right over it,” Chris said.
“It feels like the stone is tugging downward,” Risa said.
Nate looked down at the black water of the bay. “I guess we’ll get a better sense of things once we’re underwater.”
“Too bad Jonas didn’t have waterproof night vision gear,” Risa said.
“We can perceive everything just fine underwater,” Chris said.
“Right, I meant for after we come up,” Risa explained.
“We have Lindy,” Nate said. “She’ll be enough.”
“I see it,” Lindy reported. “The top is barely poking above the floor of the bay.”
“You see the lighthouse?” Chris asked dubiously.
“Remember how she tracked the Hermit?” Nate asked. “Just trust her. She sees really well. Even through water in the dark.”
“Down we go,” Chris muttered.
They flew down and plunged into the water. Suddenly Nate had a precise sense of the floor of the bay and the sea life swimming around him. So far, he had sampled his Sub abilities only in the training facility pool. The capacity to perceive the surrounding environment in open water was a totally different experience. The vivid sensory input was almost too much to process.
Gliding down through the water felt different from flying through the air. The basics remained the same, but everything was slowed down. Not only was his top speed reduced, but it was tougher to accelerate. At least he could make tighter turns.
The temperature seemed perfect. Breathing the water felt no different from breathing air. His eyes saw less, but his perception of his surroundings remained effortlessly detailed.
The water here was neither terribly shallow nor shockingly deep. The bay floor was dozens of feet down, but not nearly a hundred. As Lindy had described, the top of the stone lighthouse protruded from the silt.
“It’s big,” Nate said, his voice carrying clearly through the water.
“Huge,” Lindy said. “This is just the tip.”
“It seems more like the roof of a building than the top of a tower,” Chris said. “It’s too big around.”
“It’s a tower,” Lindy assured them. “It goes a long way down.”
“Really?” Risa said. “You can see through sand?”
“Pretty much,” Lindy replied.
“How do we get in?” Nate asked.
“We dig,” Lindy said. “There are openings into the tower not far below.”
“You think he’s the bad guy?” Roman said. “You think we’re the evil henchmen?”
“I think we could accidentally end up helping the bad guys if we’re not careful,” Summer said. “Did you feel like one of the good guys back at the trailer park?”
“How do you know the Graywaters were so good?” Roman said. “What if Uweya could do a lot of good but they’re keeping it hidden?”
“Well, I know they didn’t send anybody to break down our doors and steal our stuff. And they didn’t try to hurt us when they could have. They didn’t make creepy statues that can control us, or send kids on life-threatening missions.”
“Do you want out?” Roman asked with some heat in his tone. “Is that what this is about? Nobody is making you go, Summer. The three of us will be just fine.”
“It isn’t that,” Summer said. “I’m just not sure we should deliver Uweya to Jonas.”
“You think we should keep it?”
“Maybe nobody should have it,” Summer said.
“Look,” Roman said, “we wouldn’t even know about Uweya if it weren’t for Mr. White. If we don’t get it for him, somebody else will. Which means somebody else will be Tank Racers, or maybe flying Tank Racers, and we’ll be back to normal. I agreed to this treasure hunt, and I’m going to fulfill my agreement. Whatever else I think about Mr. White, one thing seems certain to me—he’s not the kind of guy you double-cross.”
“I guess you’re right,” Summer said, feeling nothing of the sort. “I’d hate to lose my stamps.”
“I’m sure this will be intense,” Roman said, “but what can happen to us? We’re super fast and almost impossible to hurt. If we work together, we’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Summer said. “Thanks for talking me through it. Part of my problem is that I’m nervous.”
“No sweat, I get it. Should we grab those burgers before it gets too late?”
“Sure.”
Summer had talked to Nate earlier. He felt confident that Chris and Risa were beginning to distrust Jonas. Plus he had a sure ally in Lindy. As she walked toward dinner with Roman, Summer determined that whatever else happened tonight, she needed to make sure the Tanks didn’t win.
*****
Nate flew beside Lindy above SR-24, gaining altitude over the hills where the freeway disappeared into the Caldecott Tunnel. He could hardly believe they were about to plunge into the San Francisco Bay in search of hidden treasure. He wondered if the Tanks were behind them on the road, heading toward Yerba Buena Island, or if they had some other strategy.
The Jets had consulted the map and decided that if the chest was too heavy to fly far, they would transport it to Angel Island. The Tanks had a driver, but getting to the island would surely prove problematic. Of course, if the chest was light enough, they would simply fly it an absurd distance into the wilderness.
Having studied the map, the Jets had no trouble following SR-24 until it met up with I-580, and then continuing to I-80 and the Bay Bridge. The Jets flew high over the water, staying well away from the bridge. Dressed in dark clothes, gliding far from any lights, Nate felt invisible. From his lofty vantage above the bay, the gleaming spires of the San Francisco skyline looked beautiful. A cool breeze filled his nostrils with the humid smell of the sea.
Some distance from Yerba Buena Island, the Jets joined together in a hovering huddle. Risa held a large bowl, and Chris put the guidestone inside. They watched the stone marble roll to a certain side of the bowl, then moved off in that direction. After they had checked several more times, the guidestone finally settled squarely in the bottom of the bowl.
“We should be right over it,” Chris said.
“It feels like the stone is tugging downward,” Risa said.
Nate looked down at the black water of the bay. “I guess we’ll get a better sense of things once we’re underwater.”
“Too bad Jonas didn’t have waterproof night vision gear,” Risa said.
“We can perceive everything just fine underwater,” Chris said.
“Right, I meant for after we come up,” Risa explained.
“We have Lindy,” Nate said. “She’ll be enough.”
“I see it,” Lindy reported. “The top is barely poking above the floor of the bay.”
“You see the lighthouse?” Chris asked dubiously.
“Remember how she tracked the Hermit?” Nate asked. “Just trust her. She sees really well. Even through water in the dark.”
“Down we go,” Chris muttered.
They flew down and plunged into the water. Suddenly Nate had a precise sense of the floor of the bay and the sea life swimming around him. So far, he had sampled his Sub abilities only in the training facility pool. The capacity to perceive the surrounding environment in open water was a totally different experience. The vivid sensory input was almost too much to process.
Gliding down through the water felt different from flying through the air. The basics remained the same, but everything was slowed down. Not only was his top speed reduced, but it was tougher to accelerate. At least he could make tighter turns.
The temperature seemed perfect. Breathing the water felt no different from breathing air. His eyes saw less, but his perception of his surroundings remained effortlessly detailed.
The water here was neither terribly shallow nor shockingly deep. The bay floor was dozens of feet down, but not nearly a hundred. As Lindy had described, the top of the stone lighthouse protruded from the silt.
“It’s big,” Nate said, his voice carrying clearly through the water.
“Huge,” Lindy said. “This is just the tip.”
“It seems more like the roof of a building than the top of a tower,” Chris said. “It’s too big around.”
“It’s a tower,” Lindy assured them. “It goes a long way down.”
“Really?” Risa said. “You can see through sand?”
“Pretty much,” Lindy replied.
“How do we get in?” Nate asked.
“We dig,” Lindy said. “There are openings into the tower not far below.”
