The Candy Shop War
Page 72
Nate felt the sensation of rolling and whipping around violently, but his seatbelt held him in place and he experienced no pain. Mr. Stott also had his seatbelt on, but blood trickled down his forehead from where he had bashed the side window. The old magician looked dazed.
The Hummer raced off, spewing up dust on the dirt road. The impact had to have damaged it, but Nate could see only the back of the vehicle as he stared at it sideways through the starred glass of the front windshield. The passenger window was facing the sky. Mr. Stott’s side of the truck was against the ground.
“Drove into a trap,” Mr. Stott mumbled. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together, grunting. “There. Changed the gasoline . . . into water. So we won’t explode.”
“Are you okay?” Nate asked.
“Could have used an Ironhide,” he smiled. “Not that it would have reinforced these old bones. I’m unwell.”
“Can I do something?” Nate said.
“If I leave the vehicle, I’ll die,” Mr. Stott said. “My age will catch up with me. Let’s see.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together again. Blood drizzled down into his beard. He bared his teeth, groaning, and suddenly changed into a coyote, a transition that occurred in a blink.
“Mr. Stott?” Nate asked.
“That’s a bit more comfortable,” the coyote said in Mr. Stott’s voice. “I may be able to travel temporarily like this if it becomes life or death. But I can’t change myself back. I’ll require assistance. If I leave the truck in this state, in time my awareness will depart and I’ll grow feral.”
“What do I do?” Nate asked.
“I’d say this qualifies as a dire situation,” the coyote said.
“The Grains of Time?”
“Might as well give it a shot. Now or never.”
“You said blue first, then red, then yellow?”
“In rapid succession,” the coyote said. “Past, future, and present.”
“How long will I have?” Nate asked. “It won’t do much good to go back in time if I’m stuck in a field in the middle of nowhere!”
“You’ll go back a week or two for about an hour, forward a day or two for about an hour, and then you’ll have about an hour with an advantage in the present,” Mr. Stott said. “Your body won’t travel through time. Nobody knows how to send matter across that gulf. But we can send a mind. You will find yourself occupying a vacant mind in the past, and a vacant mind in the future. The minds you occupy will have no idea you were there, no memory of what you did.”
“Will it be somebody nearby?” Nate asked.
“The nearest ideal candidate,” Mr. Stott said. “Colson remains the closest town. You’ll probably end up there. Use your minutes wisely.”
“What should I do?” Nate asked.
“All you can. You’ll find you can’t change the past—at least, I’ve never heard of anyone succeeding. Everything you do ends up being something that already happened. You’ll see.”
“So I can’t do anything?”
“You can do a lot. Just because it already happened doesn’t mean what you accomplished didn’t matter. I’ll confuse you more if I keep talking. Go back and do all you can in the time you have.”
“What about the future?” Nate asked.
“You can change the future, but not while you’re there. None of it has happened yet, you’ll be visiting a possibility. Scour the future for information. The future you will experience is the future without you in it. You see, your mind travels into the future, leaving your body vacant, meaning you weren’t a participant in how things turned out. Once you return to the present, you can try to make things work out differently. Never an easy task.”
“What advantage will I have in the present?” Nate asked.
“Three selves,” the Stott coyote said. “You’ll return to this location, and for an hour or so, you will manifest as three people. All of them will be equally you. Everything will be copied, even your clothes and the items you carry. When time runs out, however far apart your three selves have traveled, you’ll be drawn back together at a central point. You won’t materialize in solid rock or anything, or up in the air, but the spell will reunite you as close as possible to the midpoint of the space separating the three selves.”
“You’re frying my brain,” Nate said. “When time runs out, all my selves will teleport back to a central spot and I’ll be one person again?”
“Yes, but you can’t take anything with you that you didn’t have when you split into three,” Mr. Stott said. “I’ll explain more when the time comes. For now, you better get going.”
“Okay,” Nate said, unscrewing the top of the hourglass.
“You’ll want to spit out your Ironhide,” the coyote cautioned. “Never a good idea to mix candy. Sometimes it’s harmless, but it can be lethal.”
Nate removed the Ironhide from his mouth. “I can’t save it? It’s my last one.”
“Doesn’t work that way. Taking it out undoes the spell. Make this count.”
Nate tossed aside the Ironhide and raised the hourglass. “Down the hatch.” He dumped the blue sand into his mouth. Instantly he felt like the truck was spinning, and he swooned. He experienced a brief sensation of floating, and then soared.
*****
The next thing Nate knew, he was lying in an alley, opening his eyes. It was daytime. He sat up. His clothes were dirty and stank. He had a foul taste in his mouth. Rubbing his jaw, he found it stubbly, a sensation he had never experienced. He was a grown man!
Nate stood up, much taller than he had ever been. He felt unsteady, as if the wooziness from the blue sand were persisting. His head throbbed.
Stumbling out of the alley, Nate found himself next to the bar and grill on Main Street. The sun seemed brighter than usual. He stepped into the eatery.
“What time is it?” Nate called. He sounded like a grown-up!
“Almost three,” a voice called back.
“What day?”
The voice chuckled. “Thursday.”
“I mean what date?”
“September thirteenth.”
Nate stepped out of the bar. Almost three on a school day. He should be walking home down Greenway! That wasn’t far!
Nate rushed along Main, his head hurting, his equilibrium off. He pushed onward, determined to overcome the uncomfortable aftereffects of time travel. He cut down a side street. Looking up ahead, he saw several kids walking along Greenway, including a familiar foursome.
The Hummer raced off, spewing up dust on the dirt road. The impact had to have damaged it, but Nate could see only the back of the vehicle as he stared at it sideways through the starred glass of the front windshield. The passenger window was facing the sky. Mr. Stott’s side of the truck was against the ground.
“Drove into a trap,” Mr. Stott mumbled. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together, grunting. “There. Changed the gasoline . . . into water. So we won’t explode.”
“Are you okay?” Nate asked.
“Could have used an Ironhide,” he smiled. “Not that it would have reinforced these old bones. I’m unwell.”
“Can I do something?” Nate said.
“If I leave the vehicle, I’ll die,” Mr. Stott said. “My age will catch up with me. Let’s see.” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together again. Blood drizzled down into his beard. He bared his teeth, groaning, and suddenly changed into a coyote, a transition that occurred in a blink.
“Mr. Stott?” Nate asked.
“That’s a bit more comfortable,” the coyote said in Mr. Stott’s voice. “I may be able to travel temporarily like this if it becomes life or death. But I can’t change myself back. I’ll require assistance. If I leave the truck in this state, in time my awareness will depart and I’ll grow feral.”
“What do I do?” Nate asked.
“I’d say this qualifies as a dire situation,” the coyote said.
“The Grains of Time?”
“Might as well give it a shot. Now or never.”
“You said blue first, then red, then yellow?”
“In rapid succession,” the coyote said. “Past, future, and present.”
“How long will I have?” Nate asked. “It won’t do much good to go back in time if I’m stuck in a field in the middle of nowhere!”
“You’ll go back a week or two for about an hour, forward a day or two for about an hour, and then you’ll have about an hour with an advantage in the present,” Mr. Stott said. “Your body won’t travel through time. Nobody knows how to send matter across that gulf. But we can send a mind. You will find yourself occupying a vacant mind in the past, and a vacant mind in the future. The minds you occupy will have no idea you were there, no memory of what you did.”
“Will it be somebody nearby?” Nate asked.
“The nearest ideal candidate,” Mr. Stott said. “Colson remains the closest town. You’ll probably end up there. Use your minutes wisely.”
“What should I do?” Nate asked.
“All you can. You’ll find you can’t change the past—at least, I’ve never heard of anyone succeeding. Everything you do ends up being something that already happened. You’ll see.”
“So I can’t do anything?”
“You can do a lot. Just because it already happened doesn’t mean what you accomplished didn’t matter. I’ll confuse you more if I keep talking. Go back and do all you can in the time you have.”
“What about the future?” Nate asked.
“You can change the future, but not while you’re there. None of it has happened yet, you’ll be visiting a possibility. Scour the future for information. The future you will experience is the future without you in it. You see, your mind travels into the future, leaving your body vacant, meaning you weren’t a participant in how things turned out. Once you return to the present, you can try to make things work out differently. Never an easy task.”
“What advantage will I have in the present?” Nate asked.
“Three selves,” the Stott coyote said. “You’ll return to this location, and for an hour or so, you will manifest as three people. All of them will be equally you. Everything will be copied, even your clothes and the items you carry. When time runs out, however far apart your three selves have traveled, you’ll be drawn back together at a central point. You won’t materialize in solid rock or anything, or up in the air, but the spell will reunite you as close as possible to the midpoint of the space separating the three selves.”
“You’re frying my brain,” Nate said. “When time runs out, all my selves will teleport back to a central spot and I’ll be one person again?”
“Yes, but you can’t take anything with you that you didn’t have when you split into three,” Mr. Stott said. “I’ll explain more when the time comes. For now, you better get going.”
“Okay,” Nate said, unscrewing the top of the hourglass.
“You’ll want to spit out your Ironhide,” the coyote cautioned. “Never a good idea to mix candy. Sometimes it’s harmless, but it can be lethal.”
Nate removed the Ironhide from his mouth. “I can’t save it? It’s my last one.”
“Doesn’t work that way. Taking it out undoes the spell. Make this count.”
Nate tossed aside the Ironhide and raised the hourglass. “Down the hatch.” He dumped the blue sand into his mouth. Instantly he felt like the truck was spinning, and he swooned. He experienced a brief sensation of floating, and then soared.
*****
The next thing Nate knew, he was lying in an alley, opening his eyes. It was daytime. He sat up. His clothes were dirty and stank. He had a foul taste in his mouth. Rubbing his jaw, he found it stubbly, a sensation he had never experienced. He was a grown man!
Nate stood up, much taller than he had ever been. He felt unsteady, as if the wooziness from the blue sand were persisting. His head throbbed.
Stumbling out of the alley, Nate found himself next to the bar and grill on Main Street. The sun seemed brighter than usual. He stepped into the eatery.
“What time is it?” Nate called. He sounded like a grown-up!
“Almost three,” a voice called back.
“What day?”
The voice chuckled. “Thursday.”
“I mean what date?”
“September thirteenth.”
Nate stepped out of the bar. Almost three on a school day. He should be walking home down Greenway! That wasn’t far!
Nate rushed along Main, his head hurting, his equilibrium off. He pushed onward, determined to overcome the uncomfortable aftereffects of time travel. He cut down a side street. Looking up ahead, he saw several kids walking along Greenway, including a familiar foursome.
