Arcade Catastrophe
Page 71
From up ahead, Trevor heard a strange clattering, like lumber being poured from a dump truck. “What’s that?”
“Don’t know,” Victor replied, not breaking stride.
Though nothing was visible down the hall, the clacking tumult drew nearer. Then a strange monstrosity bounded around the corner and came galloping toward them. Fashioned from wood, wires, and steel cables, the jumbled construct had no clear form. Considerably larger than a bear, it alternated between running on five and six legs, depending how it tilted. The overall impression was that a bizarre piece of modern art built from scrap wood had savagely come to life.
“Don’t back down,” Victor growled. “We have to fight our way through it.”
Trevor roared and increased to his full speed. The living lumber pile loomed larger than him, but a lot of it was empty space, and much of the wood looked rotted. Trevor bet that he had more mass.
The wooden monstrosity charged equally hard. They were playing chicken, and the enemy showed no sign of relenting. The gap between them closed quickly. Roaring and lunging, Trevor collided with the fearless construct. Wood snapped as Trevor collapsed the front end of the creature. The shock of impact sent Trevor reeling, and he and the construct tumbled end over end. Wires and cables tangled his limbs as Trevor thrashed against moving wooden segments. The more Trevor fought, the more the construct wrapped around him, caging him in wood and wires, tightening its hold rather than trading blows. His thick hide and fur protected him from feeling severe pain, but it was very frustrating to be so strong and yet feel so constrained.
Trevor could hear Victor beating against the wood. Trevor craned to see what was happening. The monstrosity shoved Victor with a wooden limb, sending the large investigator rolling to the floor.
“Go!” Trevor called. “We have each other tied up! This is your chance! Find Mozag.”
Victor regained his feet. “I’ll return for you.” Then he dashed away.
*****
Pigeon watched as John Dart opened the door and collected four mosquitoes. Sirens continued to wail. John shut the door quickly and rushed the mosquitoes over to the kitchen table, where Mozag spread his hands over them, eyes closed. One of the little bugs twitched.
“Victor,” he said. “And a big bear.”
Another mosquito fluttered.
“Nothing of interest.”
A third bug spasmed.
Mozag opened his eyes. “Jonas sent his ungainly monstrosity to deal with the intruders. His sanctum is momentarily unguarded.”
John Dart strode to the counter. He grabbed a pair of locators Mozag had devised, then rushed to the door. Pigeon followed.
“Stay with Mozag,” John ordered as he opened the door.
“Don’t activate the locators until you’re inside the sanctum,” Mozag warned, not for the first time. “Because of his simulcratic connections, his sanctum is imperfect. But the locators will work better if you smuggle them in while dormant.”
“I’ll wait until after I cross the threshold,” John said.
“Let me come!” Pigeon demanded. “You might need help! What if you get pinned down? While you fight them off, I can find the Source!”
“Too dangerous,” John said. “Jonas White will probably kill us when he finds out we’ve left our sanctum.”
“Not if we get the Source,” Pigeon said.
“Take him,” Mozag said. “This may be our only shot. Hurry.”
John tossed one of the locators to Pigeon, who dropped it but retrieved it quickly. John was already out the door. Pigeon hurried to catch up. Out in the hall, John raced ahead, lengthening his lead with every stride. Pigeon resisted calling to him to slow down. He knew that speed was essential. The commotion from the intrusion and the resultant alarm might temporarily prevent Jonas from realizing Pigeon and John had abandoned their sanctuary. But as soon as Jonas became aware, he could turn both of them into living statues—or worse.
John disappeared around a corner. Pigeon ran his fastest, worried about not getting to the corner in time to see John’s next turn. When Pigeon reached the corner, he saw John racing down the hall. A man lay on the ground in the distance. When John reached the fallen figure, he paused, searching his pockets, giving Pigeon a chance to gain ground.
“Sure you want to stay with me, Pigeon?” John asked without looking up.
“I’m sure,” Pigeon said.
“Ah-ha!”
“What?” Pigeon asked.
“Access card,” John said, holding up what looked like a credit card. “This is Conner Grady, one of Jonas White’s most trusted bodyguards.”
“I’m coming,” Pigeon said resolutely. He wanted to help John. He also wanted to run back to Mozag. He definitely didn’t want the wax figure used against him. But if this escape failed, would they get another chance? If they had to take down Jonas White now or never, shouldn’t he lend his help, even if he was underqualified?
“I can’t protect you,” John said. “I have to reach the Source at all cost. I have to find it and destroy it.”
“I won’t do any good back with Mozag,” Pigeon said.
John started running again, crouching to pick up a baseball bat near a doorway. “Try to stay with me.”
At the next intersection John kept running straight. Looking down the hall as he crossed it, Pigeon saw a bear tangled in some sort of trap made of wood and wire. The shaggy animal was wrestling fiercely, making the trap flop and writhe, the wood clattering and splitting.
Once again, John turned a small lead into a long one. Panting heavily, Pigeon tried to ignore the sharp pain in his side. Up ahead, John turned a corner. Pigeon tucked his head and kept pumping his arms and legs. Despite his best efforts, he could not stay at a full sprint.
Pigeon made it past the corner in time to see John disappearing around another one. He hustled, worried about losing him. When he rounded the next corner, he found John receding down a long hall.
Breathing hard, Pigeon kept running, motivated by thoughts of running into enemies without John to help him. John turned again. It took Pigeon more than thirty paces to reach that intersection. When he got there, Pigeon found John standing before a large
iron door at the end of the hall, looking back over his shoulder.
As soon as Pigeon came into view, John swiped the card he had taken from the unconscious bodyguard. Then he hauled open the door.
Pigeon glanced down at the locator in his hand. It looked suspiciously like a plastic Easter egg. But Mozag had explained that the tiny bubbles inside would work like Finder’s Dust. The bubbles would remain inert until activated by contact with oxygen. Once active, the bubbles would be drawn to the most potent source of magical power in the area. If the bubbles were activated before entering Jonas White’s sanctum, they could lose potency upon crossing the threshold.
“Don’t know,” Victor replied, not breaking stride.
Though nothing was visible down the hall, the clacking tumult drew nearer. Then a strange monstrosity bounded around the corner and came galloping toward them. Fashioned from wood, wires, and steel cables, the jumbled construct had no clear form. Considerably larger than a bear, it alternated between running on five and six legs, depending how it tilted. The overall impression was that a bizarre piece of modern art built from scrap wood had savagely come to life.
“Don’t back down,” Victor growled. “We have to fight our way through it.”
Trevor roared and increased to his full speed. The living lumber pile loomed larger than him, but a lot of it was empty space, and much of the wood looked rotted. Trevor bet that he had more mass.
The wooden monstrosity charged equally hard. They were playing chicken, and the enemy showed no sign of relenting. The gap between them closed quickly. Roaring and lunging, Trevor collided with the fearless construct. Wood snapped as Trevor collapsed the front end of the creature. The shock of impact sent Trevor reeling, and he and the construct tumbled end over end. Wires and cables tangled his limbs as Trevor thrashed against moving wooden segments. The more Trevor fought, the more the construct wrapped around him, caging him in wood and wires, tightening its hold rather than trading blows. His thick hide and fur protected him from feeling severe pain, but it was very frustrating to be so strong and yet feel so constrained.
Trevor could hear Victor beating against the wood. Trevor craned to see what was happening. The monstrosity shoved Victor with a wooden limb, sending the large investigator rolling to the floor.
“Go!” Trevor called. “We have each other tied up! This is your chance! Find Mozag.”
Victor regained his feet. “I’ll return for you.” Then he dashed away.
*****
Pigeon watched as John Dart opened the door and collected four mosquitoes. Sirens continued to wail. John shut the door quickly and rushed the mosquitoes over to the kitchen table, where Mozag spread his hands over them, eyes closed. One of the little bugs twitched.
“Victor,” he said. “And a big bear.”
Another mosquito fluttered.
“Nothing of interest.”
A third bug spasmed.
Mozag opened his eyes. “Jonas sent his ungainly monstrosity to deal with the intruders. His sanctum is momentarily unguarded.”
John Dart strode to the counter. He grabbed a pair of locators Mozag had devised, then rushed to the door. Pigeon followed.
“Stay with Mozag,” John ordered as he opened the door.
“Don’t activate the locators until you’re inside the sanctum,” Mozag warned, not for the first time. “Because of his simulcratic connections, his sanctum is imperfect. But the locators will work better if you smuggle them in while dormant.”
“I’ll wait until after I cross the threshold,” John said.
“Let me come!” Pigeon demanded. “You might need help! What if you get pinned down? While you fight them off, I can find the Source!”
“Too dangerous,” John said. “Jonas White will probably kill us when he finds out we’ve left our sanctum.”
“Not if we get the Source,” Pigeon said.
“Take him,” Mozag said. “This may be our only shot. Hurry.”
John tossed one of the locators to Pigeon, who dropped it but retrieved it quickly. John was already out the door. Pigeon hurried to catch up. Out in the hall, John raced ahead, lengthening his lead with every stride. Pigeon resisted calling to him to slow down. He knew that speed was essential. The commotion from the intrusion and the resultant alarm might temporarily prevent Jonas from realizing Pigeon and John had abandoned their sanctuary. But as soon as Jonas became aware, he could turn both of them into living statues—or worse.
John disappeared around a corner. Pigeon ran his fastest, worried about not getting to the corner in time to see John’s next turn. When Pigeon reached the corner, he saw John racing down the hall. A man lay on the ground in the distance. When John reached the fallen figure, he paused, searching his pockets, giving Pigeon a chance to gain ground.
“Sure you want to stay with me, Pigeon?” John asked without looking up.
“I’m sure,” Pigeon said.
“Ah-ha!”
“What?” Pigeon asked.
“Access card,” John said, holding up what looked like a credit card. “This is Conner Grady, one of Jonas White’s most trusted bodyguards.”
“I’m coming,” Pigeon said resolutely. He wanted to help John. He also wanted to run back to Mozag. He definitely didn’t want the wax figure used against him. But if this escape failed, would they get another chance? If they had to take down Jonas White now or never, shouldn’t he lend his help, even if he was underqualified?
“I can’t protect you,” John said. “I have to reach the Source at all cost. I have to find it and destroy it.”
“I won’t do any good back with Mozag,” Pigeon said.
John started running again, crouching to pick up a baseball bat near a doorway. “Try to stay with me.”
At the next intersection John kept running straight. Looking down the hall as he crossed it, Pigeon saw a bear tangled in some sort of trap made of wood and wire. The shaggy animal was wrestling fiercely, making the trap flop and writhe, the wood clattering and splitting.
Once again, John turned a small lead into a long one. Panting heavily, Pigeon tried to ignore the sharp pain in his side. Up ahead, John turned a corner. Pigeon tucked his head and kept pumping his arms and legs. Despite his best efforts, he could not stay at a full sprint.
Pigeon made it past the corner in time to see John disappearing around another one. He hustled, worried about losing him. When he rounded the next corner, he found John receding down a long hall.
Breathing hard, Pigeon kept running, motivated by thoughts of running into enemies without John to help him. John turned again. It took Pigeon more than thirty paces to reach that intersection. When he got there, Pigeon found John standing before a large
iron door at the end of the hall, looking back over his shoulder.
As soon as Pigeon came into view, John swiped the card he had taken from the unconscious bodyguard. Then he hauled open the door.
Pigeon glanced down at the locator in his hand. It looked suspiciously like a plastic Easter egg. But Mozag had explained that the tiny bubbles inside would work like Finder’s Dust. The bubbles would remain inert until activated by contact with oxygen. Once active, the bubbles would be drawn to the most potent source of magical power in the area. If the bubbles were activated before entering Jonas White’s sanctum, they could lose potency upon crossing the threshold.
