The door itself had little ornamentation on the outside, but the inside of the room was filled with decorations. The walls were painted a light blue that was mostly obscured by posters of rock bands, baseball players, and other various interests.
There was limited furniture in the room. A standard twin bed was nestled up against one wall. A wood desk, big enough to seat a small child, was on the other wall. That was it for furniture in the room.
The room was a typical ten-year-old’s room. The hardwood floor underneath Kyle’s feet barely showed through the mess that covered it. From toys, to laundry, to just plain junk, it was a vast contrast to Kid Combat’s room within The Playground. Here, Kyle was a kid, and he allowed himself a little bit of a mess. Besides, who had time to clean with his busy life? At least, that’s what he told himself.
Kyle made his way into his room and searched for some clean clothes to put on for dinner. Taking various articles off the floor and giving them the old sniff test, Kyle weeded out the bad ones from the good ones. He finally found a decent shirt and settled on wearing the same shorts.
As Kyle was going to turn and leave, he glimpsed out his window. Looking across the driveway, he noticed the light on in Samantha’s bedroom. There, he saw Samantha sitting at her desk, facing out the window. She looked to be in deep thought. She also looked very unhappy, almost upset.
Kyle took it upon himself to interrupt her concentration and see what was wrong with his friend. He rifled through various toys and articles of clothing on the floor, looking for his radio. He sifted through the rubble and finally found his transceiver. He stood back up, looked out the window, and radioed Sam.
“Kyle to Samantha. Come in, Sam. Over,” Kyle said. Samantha looked up from what she was doing and out the window. There, she saw Kyle staring back at her, and he waved. She let out a half smile, leaned over to her left, and grabbed her radio off the corner of her desk. Samantha was always neater than Kyle was.
“Hey, Kyle, what’s up?” Samantha said.
“Not much. I saw you over there working and figured I’d radio you. Over.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing,” Samantha said very tersely. Kyle knew that when Samantha wasn’t in the mood to talk, it meant one of two things—either she was mad at someone or mad at herself. Kyle poked to find out what was wrong.
“Sam, come on. What is it?” he said inquisitively. Samantha knew she wouldn’t get out of not telling him now. She paused for a second, reflected on her thoughts, and came clean.
“It’s just … what you said outside. Things went wrong, and I had a large part in it. I don’t know. I feel like I let you down and made you upset, so I’m trying to figure out who the two boys were from last night. I’ve been looking through our files to see if I could come up with any matches from what I could remember.”
“Oh, you didn’t upset me, Sam,” Kyle said to his friend. “Like you made me realize—it’s just bad luck. I can’t control everything.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Samantha came back. Her head dropped slightly.
“You did the best you could. It wasn’t your fault,” Kyle said, trying to reassure his friend. It wasn’t working.
“Well, I was the only one in there. It has to be my fault,” Samantha said. Kyle was losing her, and he changed the direction.
“Maybe it was my fault. Sending you in alone and all. I guess we will never know, but thinking about it this much isn’t good for anyone.” Kyle paused. “What did you find in our files?”
“I can’t be certain,” Samantha started, “but, from what I could remember, I think I might have found matches for two boys. It’s a long shot, but so far these two boys from Byron Junior High look like the best bet.”
“That’s good Sam. I can’t wait to see what you have,” Kyle said. Just then he heard his mother call from downstairs.
“Kyle! On the double!” Her voice echoed through the house. The Christensen family was getting impatient waiting on Kyle to show his face for dinner.
“Ugh. I gotta go.”
“Yeah, I know,” Samantha said. She knew what life was like at the Christensen household. “I’ll bring you my findings tomorrow. We’ll go over them then.”
“Sounds good. And Sam?”
“Yeah, Kyle?” asked Samantha.
“Don’t beat yourself up anymore. You’re safe now. That’s what’s important. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“OK, Kyle. Have a good night. Over,” Samantha finished. She put down her radio and shot a quick smile over at Kyle through the window. He waved back at her and proceeded downstairs for dinner.
Samantha stayed up half the night researching the two boys she saw, hoping for any leads. Kyle enjoyed a nice peaceful dinner at home with his family.
What Kyle didn’t know was that while he relaxed without a care in the world, something more sinister was happening downtown.
*******
The Science Museum in Elmcrest was officially closed. The exhibits were all shut down for the evening, and all the main lighting was off. The night guards started to make their rounds, a little more alertly today than usual, looking for any intruders. They wouldn’t find any tonight.
On the third floor of the museum stood the only four people remaining in it besides the guards. They were the same four people that had huddled in the main foyer the day before.
In a tiny conference room that the museum’s employees used to conduct business, the curator, two boys in their early teens, and a boy dressed in blue sat around a table.
The curator headed one end of the table. He sat calmly, dressed in his usual black suit. He tapped his cane on the ground with very rhythmic precision. Across from him, standing in the corner of the room, was a boy dressed in all blue. Even though they were inside, in a poorly lit room, the boy wore his hood up, covering half his face. A pair of silver sunglasses adorned his face. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know who he was.
Sitting to the curator’s left and right were the two boys from the other night. They were students at the junior high school in Elmcrest.
Tommy O’Toole was on the left. His short black hair was up in spikes, and he wore a black leather jacket and jeans in the middle of summer. His brown eyes stared off into space and his face was void of emotion.
Jake Henderson was on the right. His dirty blonde hair was long, wavy, and messy. He wore the same outfit as Tommy. Instead of a blank stare on Jake’s face, though, he stared at the mysterious boy in blue standing in the corner.
“Wouldn’t you like to sit down?” Scott asked the boy in blue. He calmly motioned over to the empty chair at the table. The boy in blue gave no response.
“What is your deal?” asked Jake. The identity of the person hiding behind the sunglasses aroused his curiosity and his frustration. As he asked the question, the phone on the table rang.
“Just answer the phone,” the boy in blue said in a low monotone voice. He and Jake glared at each other for a few seconds as the phone continued to ring. Reluctantly, Jake looked away and glanced at the curator. The curator nodded. Jake straightened up a bit in his chair, reached over, and put the phone on speakerphone.
“Is everyone with you?” the voice from the phone blurted out without a greeting.
“Yes. We are all here,” the curator responded.
“Good. I’m not a man who likes to wait,” the voice said. The voice was deep, precise, and sounded agitated. “What is your status on the situation, Scott?”
“Well, sir, I am afraid to report that the situation has not yet improved. The owners—they … they just won’t sell.”
Only heavy breathing came from the speakerphone sitting on the table in the Science Museum. Angry, scary breaths echoed out of the small speakers, and then a voice spoke.
“You’re a fool, Scott. I have given you one job, and it seems you cannot do it. I thought you wanted to be rich beyond your wildest dreams?”
“But, sir …”
“But nothing. Have the boys begin their
assignment.”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” Scott answered back. There was no reply. The phone clicked off. The other end had hung up. The curator sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest.
“You heard him. Get to work. I want this done tonight, and I want it done right. No excuses. You understand me?” the curator ordered the two boys sitting at the table with him.
“We’re on it,” Jake said. He got up from the table, as did Tommy, and walked out the door.
The boy in blue moved out of the corner where he had stood for the duration of the conversation. He looked at the curator.
“That’s twice you failed him, Scott,” the boy in blue said. He hesitated for a second. “I wouldn’t go for three if I were you.”
Chapter Five:
The Heist
9:00 am
Kyle woke up the next morning, made his way down the stairs of his family’s home, and headed toward the kitchen. At the table, the three other members of Kyle’s family sat around and ate breakfast as they watched TV. Kyle got a bowl of his favorite cereal, sat down at the table, and started to eat.
“Somebody is a late sleeper today,” Kyle’s mom said as she sipped her coffee.
“Yeah, I was up late last night and couldn’t get to sleep,” Kyle replied.
“How are today’s games shaping up, sport?” Kyle’s dad asked him.
“OK. I really should get to the park soon. The field could use some work.”
At that time, the daily television programming was interrupted with a special news bulletin. The unmistakable music blared out of the TV and caught the family’s attention. Across the screen flashed the words BREAKING NEWS. A TV anchorman sat at a desk as the camera zoomed in on him.
“Good morning. We break away from our normally scheduled programming to bring you this Channel 31 exclusive. Late last night it appears the small, family-owned toy store located on Spring Road was vandalized. From what we have learned here at Channel 31, the small toy shop was ransacked from top to bottom and little to nothing was spared,” the announcer said. There was a slight pause as he received more information into his earpiece. “This just in—the first live images from the scene.”
The news broke away from the studio and onto a live camera at Spring Road Toys. Still images showed a decimated toy store. The first image showed the front door broken off its hinges and the outside windows smashed. The second image showed the inside of the store. Shelving units were on the floor, toys were scattered all over, and the cashier’s counter was smashed to pieces.
“Oh, no,” a shocked Kyle said. He sat there with his eyes wide open, and his jaw dropped to the floor.
“Who could do such a thing?” Kyle’s older sister asked.
More images flashed across the screen, and the family sat there in silence and heartbreak as the devastation was laid out for them. The reporter kept going on and on about miscellaneous facts Kyle barely paid attention too. He was focused on the frightening images and what might have happened to his friends the Thompsons. The reporter never mentioned them.
Not able to take anymore, Kyle got up from his chair and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” asked Kyle’s dad. Kyle turned back for a second.
“To see if my friends are OK.”
Outside, Kyle pedaled his bike faster than he ever had. He zoomed down the streets. Everything went by in a blur. As he raced to Spring Road Toys, he radioed to the SOCKs gang, but he knew they were already on their way. The one member he got a hold of was Gears, who informed Kyle that everyone would meet him at Spring Road Toys.
It has to be the curator, Kyle thought to himself. His mind raced with concerns as he got closer and closer to Spring Road. Only he could do something like this. He, and maybe one other man.
As Kyle approached the final block, he could see the news reporters’ vans lined up and down Spring Road. A small crowd gathered outside the store and cared more about the TV reporters than the actual store.
Kyle parked his bike and started to fight his way through the crowd. One advantage of being a small kid is the ability to squeeze through a tight crowd unseen. He wiggled between the packed bodies and eventually made it to the front of the crowd. A police line draped around the perimeter of the store, keeping the crowd back, But once again, this provided an advantage to a small boy. Sneaking around to the corner and ducking under the tape, Kyle made his way into the store.
The small images on TV did nothing to prepare Kyle for the destruction of the toy store. It was ten times worse. Everything inside was smashed to pieces. There were hardly any toys left intact.
Kyle made his way through the mess. He could see into the back room where the Thompsons were being questioned by police. Mr. Thompson was standing over the chair that Mrs. Thompson was sitting in. His hands were on her shoulders as she sobbed into a tissue.
She wasn’t the only one crying. Kyle found Samantha cleaning a mess in a back corner, picking up the remains of a display case. He walked up to his friend and tried to think of anything to console her as tears lightly ran down her cheeks.
“It’s all gone,” Samantha said as she continued to clean the broken shards of glass off the floor. “I just can’t believe this.”
“This was no robbery, Sam,” Kyle said softly. “This was a message.”
“Well, mission accomplished. The Thompsons are freaked out. And they really don’t have too many options on what to do,” Samantha said, wiping away the last of her tears.
“I know. The store is ruined. The toys are ruined. They are going to be forced to sell to the museum now,” Kyle thought.
Minutes went by. The two friends continued to clean up the store as Gears and the twins entered. The three boys experienced the same initial shock. They asked the usual questions of who, what, and why. No one had any answers. Eventually, the boys began to help Kyle and Samantha clean up the remains of the store and try to salvage as much as possible. It wasn’t much.
An hour went by, and the police finally finished questioning the Thompsons. Mrs. Thompson emerged from the back room, still in tears. Her husband followed closely. The five friends offered many consoling words, but it was eventually time for Kid Combat’s instincts to kick in.
“Did you see anything suspicious last night? Anything? At all?” Kid asked.
“No. We closed up as usual and went home for the night. No one stopped by, no threats were made. Nothing,” Mr. Thompson explained.
“Was anything taken?” Gears asked.
“Not a thing. The safe is still in back—unopened—and the cash register is still full. It seems like a very random act of violence,” Mrs. Thompson said, still unaware of the threats made by the curator. “You kids mean so much to us. Thank you for all your help.”
The children stayed with the Thompsons long after the reporters and police had left. They kept cleaning, trying to salvage the remains of the store. The day was long and filled with a lot of work. Even though the day was full of events, nothing surprised the kids more than their next visitor.
Alfred E. Scott stood in the doorway of the toy store. The curator of the Science Museum that loomed next door. The one that Kid and Samantha thought would be behind this attack on Spring Road Toys.
Scott stood there, dressed in his perfectly pressed black suit, and leaned on his cane. He looked around the remains of the toy store with a very inquisitive look on his face, almost surveying the damage done instead of looking randomly at it. Scott entered the toy store and carefully made his way through the jungle of broken items. The seven members of the cleaning crew stopped working and looked up in disbelief.
“Oh, what a pity,” the curator said as he flipped a piece of broken glass with his cane. “Who could have done this type of thing?” he said with an inquisitive look on his face. Kid saw right through Scott’s phony concern.
“We were wondering the same thing.” Kid stood and glared at the man. “What are you doing here, Scott?”
“
My, my, boy. Where are your manners? I heard about the disturbance here last night and thought I would stop by and see if there was anything I could do. After all, we are neighbors.”
“That’s not why you’re here,” Mr. Thompson replied. “You want to know if we are going to sell our store to you now.”
“Oh, dear. I would never dream of bringing that issue up now,” the curator said as he stood there with his arms raised in the air. He paused. “But, now that you mentioned it ”
Mr. Thompson went over to his wife and put his arm around her. Lovingly, he looked her in the eyes, seeking her approval.
“We have no choice now,” Mr. Thompson murmured. He then sighed, knowing he was defeated. “Give me the papers. I’ll sign them,” he said in a very low and broken voice.
“No! You can’t give in to this guy! He’s the one behind this!” Samantha blurted out and started toward the curator. Kid grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. The curator, barely able to hold his excitement, dismissed the girl’s advances.
“You’ll have the papers first thing Monday morning. Now, I wish I could stay and help out, but I have a museum to tend to. Good day,” Scott said, not tipping his hand. He turned and exited the toy store.
The five members of SOCKs moved toward each other. They huddled in a semicircle in the middle of the store.
“First thing Monday morning?” Rocket said.
“That doesn’t give us much time,” his brother said.
“Let’s get out of here. We have some things to discuss, and here is not the location,” Kid said, heading toward the door. Samantha intercepted him on his way out.
“You guys go. I’m going to stay here and help the Thompsons.”
“You sure?” Kid questioned.
Samantha looked around. The store still needed a lot of work. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Kid reached out to Samantha and gave her a quick nod of acceptance. “We’ll meet up at The Playground later then,” Kid said. Samantha just nodded, turned around, and got back to work.
The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume Two: The Heist of Spring Road Toys Page 4
