The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume Two: The Heist of Spring Road Toys (6 page)

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.

Chapter Six:

SOCKs Goes to Work

In a scene that resembled most old western
movies—with the heroes marching single file down a dirt road in the
center of town—the four members of the SOCKs contingent walked very
decisively toward Maple Forest and The Playground. The sun was
starting to set behind Kid Combat, Gears, Wedge, and Rocket. The
trees in centerfield cast off a shadowy glow.

The boys walked in silence with determination
in their eyes. All their missions were important, but to the
members of SOCKs, this one was different. Someone had messed with
one of their own, and they were going to find out who it was, no
matter what it took. The Thompsons were loyal friends of SOCKs, and
their toy store was important to all the children in town, not just
the members of SOCKs.