Lore of the Underlings: Kid of Lore (4 page)

He should have known when he spotted the
brown eyes and hair.

He yanked Hank into the room.

“Jeez Bro! What the heck took so long?”

Johnny just shrugged. “I was gonna ask
you.”

Hank dove onto the bunk behind him, the
bottom one. “Sorry how that went down.”

“You better be. Haylee and me got busted
while you guys…”

“We watched from the trees. It was wild.”
Hank yawned loudly and closed his eyes. “Rust-man always has a
plan…”

Suddenly Hank felt his face get pelted.
Little green army men. By the platoon.

“Yo, dude! What’s the deal?!”

“Guess we shoulda squealed.” Then Johnny
reloaded and threw again.

Hank ducked the incoming. He looked
panicked. “But you didn’t, right?”

“It’s not too late.”

“Hey, I’ll make it up to you Johnny. You
name it.”

“Just cover for me. I’m going out.”

“Again?”

“There’s something I gotta do…”

Then Johnny jumped from the bedroom
window.

Chapter 4 ~ Sleepless Knight

“Back to the scene of the crime,” Johnny
muttered. But everything seemed to be different now.

There was nothing up. Nothing going
down.

A ghost town.

He biked the road unseen then ditched his
trusty Schwinn in the woods.

Though Johnny wasn’t taking chances this
time. He’d come armed. Or sort of.

The kid was sporting a broken broomstick
that he’d grabbed from his father’s shed. He wielded it like an
old-time pike. The way he’d read in
Robin Hood
.

“Come out, critter… wherever you are…”

Suddenly Johnny heard a screech. It wasn’t
far. He had to see.

He trudged toward an opening in the trees.
It hit midnight. No flashlight but he didn’t need it. Johnny could
make things out by squinting. Something was flapping on the
ground.

It sensed him too. It switched to an angry
hiss, a suspicious “Who?! Wh-who?!”

“Who, me?” asked Johnny. He stopped in his
tracks — but close enough to size it up.

A great horned owl was caught in a rusty
trap. To be exact, Rusty’s trap. He’d snared the big bird’s leg. It
struggled to fly. Its feathers flew everywhere.

Johnny inched closer and chucked his stick.
“Easy there buddy… I’ll get you out.” Then he kneeled and showed
his empty hands.

Somehow it understood. It calmed down.

Johnny examined the homemade contraption
while talking to keep the owl distracted. “Doesn’t look bad, pal —
just half shut.” He tried to pry the jaws apart. “Unh!”

That’s when he felt the little lever and
clicked it. Snap! That did the trick.

The owl fell over then picked itself up and
took off. Like a missile. It didn’t look back.

Its silhouette reached the hazy moon.

It was gone when Johnny belatedly shouted,
“Watch your step down here, Mr. Owl. Rusty’s got traps
everywhere!”

With that he stood up, fetched his stick,
and looked around. “Let’s find that swamp…”

He hiked ten feet and came to a trailhead.
“Where’d you come from?” Johnny asked.

He heard a weird echo. He went on
anyway.

Warily.

It had a rocky start.

But then it turned into a cakewalk — a
smooth, straight path.

He got there in nothing flat.

Johnny sat still on a log in the bog for a
long, long time. A fog rolled in. It was hard to see anything, let
alone shadows. Or mystical girls.

“Oh man, what a nightmare.”

He kicked at the stick with his muddy Keds
and mumbled. “You daydreamed the whole darn thing, dude. Don’t be a
dummy. She’s not coming back.”

And Johnny looked ready to pack it in
when…

Whoosh!

Something swooped down, landing next to
him.

Hoo! Hoo!

It was his owl friend.

Johnny jumped. “Whoa!” Almost out of his
skin. “Didn’t expect to see you again buddy…”

Hooo!

“Sorry, I don’t speak Owl. Sure could use
the company though.”

The old gray bird made a cooing sound. But
its big yellow eyes looked kind of haunting.

“What’s that saying — birds of a feather?
Guess that’s us, bro. Me and you… Think I’ll call you Spooky. That
okay? Cuz I get called that too…”

Spooky spun his head around and gave a hoot.
Then he just listened.

“Yeah, I’m like a total night owl.
Sleeping’s never been my thing. But that’s a problem when you’re
people. It’s not cool to prowl around.

“Like right now. I should be in bed. Not out
hunting things with you — no offense. But then what? Duck back
under the covers? Read all night? I’m tired of that.

“It’s almost worth getting razzed by guys
like Rusty after they find you out…

“
Yo Johnny Zombie! Wassup, walking-dead
kid?! Mummy boy!!!
” Johnny bit his lip.

The owl clucked back. He seemed to get
him.

Johnny reached out. Spooky let him pet
him.

“Fact is, I don’t have an off switch. It’s
how I’m wired — don’t ask me why. But I got a hunch that Shadow
Girl knows.” He held up three fingers and studied them.
“Something.”

Sigh. “If she even…”

A light caught his eye.

Sunrise.

Johnny’d lost track of time — and big-time.
Dawn broke his train of thought.

A blood-red dawn. It choked the sun.

“Yikes! Sorry Spooky. Gotta get going. Have
to be home before they’re up.”

He snatched his broomstick from the muck and
found the sharp end. “Can’t forget.” Then he stuck it in the ground
like a sword of lore. His
Excalibur
. “I’ll be back.”

Spooky hopped up on it, chittering
something, a warning, when all of a sudden…

Boom!

A big wingy thing blew by their heads and
vanished with a blinding flash.

A thunder crash.

A splash of blue.

“Whoa!”

Spooky flew off. This time for good.

Johnny gawked. “Now
that
was no owl,”
he muttered.

“Guess I’m not crazy after all…”

Johnny dug into the thicket where he’d hid
his bike and pulled it out. Or tried to. It was kind of entwined.
He fought the vines and won but caught his fingers on their tiny
thorns. “Ouch!” He peddled toward the road.

Click, click, click. There were sticks in
the spokes. He stopped and dropped the kickstand to clear them.

That’s when he heard a noise from behind. A
voice. A funny one.

“Look what I’ve found!”

Johnny spun. A man shook something at
him.

“See how the early bird gets the
worrrm?”

Then he laughed and flashed a Cheshire Cat
grin. Johnny squirmed. “What law did I break this time?” he
mumbled, watching the man approach. He braced himself for the
worst.

Till he noticed…

He’d never seen this gent before. And he
wasn’t a cop but some kind of stranger. In fact he was dressed like
someone from far, far away. At least some other country. He wore a
kerchief around his neck, five or six shirts, and a hat with fur
ear flaps. The hair that spilled out from under it was a messy
yellow.

The fellow looked forty.

“Good morrrning,” he purred with an odd sort
of accent. “Have you had brrreakfast yet my friend?” There was a
big rusty coffee can in his hand. He shoved it in Johnny’s mug.

Chock full o'Nuts
. He took a quick
whiff of it… but got a noseful of something else.

“Gross! What is that?”

“Ripe, juicy earthworms.”

“Yuck!”

“Nice plump ones, frrreshly picked…”

He gagged at the thought. He just about
puked.

“To catch something tasty und
delicious!”

It took him a minute but Johnny caught
on.

“Oh! You goin’ fishing? Mister…”

“Rrrosewood. Yesss. You could say that…” He
pulled the yellow can back and dug out a worm. “I’m hoping you know
a spot.”

“You new here?”

“I… got in last night.”

“Well, Broder’s Pond is where we go. Me and
my brother Hank. And sometimes his friends — just watch out for one
named Rusty. Anyway, it’s just down the road.” Johnny pointed over
his shoulder. “Perch. Some bass. And tons of sunfish… but you don’t
want those. Too many bones.”

Mr. Rosewood petted his earthworm.
“Catfishing?”

“Eastie caught one last week.”

“Mmm…” Then a thought seemed to dawn on the
man. “Won’t you come?”

Johnny looked tempted but not for long. “No
thanks, mister. I gotta get home…” Some sun poked through the
clouds. “Like now. Or else I’m gonna have heck to pay.”

The man looked disappointed. Hurt. He pouted
a little. “That’s a pity. But I can see you’re not rrready to take
the bait. I’ll wait to catch you later.”

Johnny got back on his bike. “Ya, sure.
Whatever.” He just wanted outta there quick.

“Caw!”

Like an omen, a lone black crow swooped
down. And Mr. Rosewood perked up.

“Dark days, sleepless nights are
coming…”

But Johnny was already heading away. Not
really paying attention. “Sorry?”

“You may be… verrry sorry,” the stranger
muttered. Then he laughed out loud.

“Farewell till next time John Cap, my
newfound frrriend!”

“B-bye sir. See you around.”

Mr. Rosewood bowed and whispered to his
worms, “Oh yesss, we’ll see him again…”

Johnny was way down the street by the time
it hit him. “How’d he know my name?”

But he couldn’t worry about that now. He had
other fish to fry.

Johnny tried the kitchen door.

Click.

Good luck. It wasn’t locked.

He tiptoed in,
Gazette
in hand. He’d
grabbed it off the porch. In case…

“Who’s there?!”

Uh-oh.
He knew that voice.

“You!”

“Auntie Lou. What a… nice surprise.”

It was his mother’s spinster sister. Louise.
She gave him the evil eye.

“What’re you up to this time, boy?! Giving
folks strokes? Haven’t learned your lesson?”

“I didn’t know you were coming Auntie.
Sorry… er… just went to bring this in.”

Johnny tried waving the newspaper at
her.

She didn’t buy it. He let it drop.

The big woman fished in her housecoat pocket
and pulled out her trademark cat-style glasses.

This called for a fresh inspection.

“I warned Nora. Even when you were in
diapers. ‘This one — he’s a devil child. That stare. Those eyes.
They never close. I swear they’re cursed...’

“She still won’t admit it.”

Auntie Lou lit up a smoke and glared.

“That’s why it’s up to me to watch you,
night stalker. Sleepwalker. Don’t you forget it!”

Johnny just missed her lipstick-stained
Winston trying to sidestep toward his room. He muttered, “I got it.
I’ll never belong at this snoozefest. Can’t we
give it a
rest
?”

But there’d be no rest for Johnny, the Kid
of Lore. A sleepless knight was born. (And that Shadow Girl, Vaam?
She was destined to test him — oh, that’s a tale for another
time…)

To be continued…
Stay tuned for more
exciting adventures from the lands of the
Lore
!

About the Author

John Klobucher is the author of many
technical manuals that you’d never want to read. But he is also to
blame for
Lore of the Underlings
and other tales from the
world of
Lore
.

John lives in Framingham, Massachusetts, USA
with his wife Diane, son Sam, and daughter Mia.

~ ~ ~

Other ebook titles by John Klobucher:

Lore of the
Underlings: Episodes 1 & 2 ~ A Door to the Lore

Lore of the
Underlings: Episode 3 ~ Fyryx