Lore of the Underlings: Kid of Lore

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Tales of tongues unknown

Translated by John Klobucher

(he wrote it too,

but don’t tell anyone

and spoil the fun)

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Copyright 2016 John Klobucher

Smashwords Edition

Visit John Klobucher’s
author
page
at Smashwords.com

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cover art by John Klobucher

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 ~ Into the Black

Chapter 2 ~ Out of the Blue

Chapter 3 ~ Fall Guys

Chapter 4 ~ Sleepless Knight

About the Author

For you

the Kids of Lore

out there

everywhere

Chapter 1 ~ Into the Black

It was warm. Hot. The flood of blood and
memory that poured from the wound in John Cap's chest. The tip of
the pike was crude but sharp. His human skin was no match for
it.

“Unh!”

Then everything came rushing back to him.
Just before the world went black it played like a movie in his
mind. Her. Them. He remembered. And smiled.

“Goodbye Vaam…”

The universe was in trouble.

It all began before the darkness. Six years
back. When he was still Johnny…
Johnny
. That kid seemed
forever ago. And his own life story sounded like lore…

“Hank! Hold up!” he begged his big brother.
“What’s the rush?”

Hank barely looked back.

“Rusty’s got something new for tonight.
Don’t wanna miss it.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

He followed Hank’s climb up the long, narrow
road. Past Broder’s Pond. By the rambling old May house. They hit
the main hill and he fell back further. Johnny sighed.

“Better not start without me…”

That’s when he heard a voice from behind — a
little one — wheezy and out of breath. Yep, it was Haylee. She came
running.

“Wait for me… Johnny…” The girl meant
business. Her flip-flops slapped the tar as she ran.

He came to a dead stop and spun around. His
hands automatically waved her away.

“No. Go home Sis. The trick’s just for
guys.”

“Says who?” Then she grinned. “I’ll tell on
you… promise…”

Johnny knew he’d lost.

“Come on.”

Hank was already out of sight by now, but
they knew where he went.

The sun had just about set when they reached
the last house before the top of the hill. A dull gray dump on a
mini plateau. It was all by itself and hard to miss. Still, Johnny
announced, “The Carver place.” It could have easily passed for a
junkyard.

It even came with a junkyard dog. The pit
bull charged at Johnny and Haylee before they made the cluttered
driveway.

Grrrrrr…

He showed his sharpened teeth.

Rusty reluctantly called him off.

“Killer!” He glared at Hank and spit. “Okay.
So who invited the rug rats?”

Hank shrugged his shoulders and kicked the
dirt. He acted like he didn’t know them.

Just then a couple of older boys emerged
from an opening in the woods. Rusty barked at them. “It’s about
time!”

Eastie, a wise guy with wavy black hair,
carried a baggy old pocketbook. Big Oakes was the neighborhood
giant. He lugged a bucket and held his nose.

“Had to get it fresh,” he explained. “Used
all our cow chips up the last time.”

Rusty shook his ginger head. “Whatever.
Shovel’s in the garage. Start filling the bag — but leave some
room.”

Eastie and Oakes got right to work. Rusty
turned back to Hank and pointed.

“Grab that broom Cappy. Hold it out…
Straighter… Figure I need at least five pieces.”

Rusty reached into his father’s toolbox and
pulled out a rip saw with shark-like teeth. “Good enough.” Then he
started cutting.

Before long the broom was history. A pile of
sawdust and short wooden dowels. Rusty picked up the candle-size
sticks and made a stack on the driveway wall, right next to a spray
can and spool of twine.

“Tie ‘em up for me,” he ordered Hank while
shaking the can. “Then I’ll do the honors…”

He showed Hank the label. “Check out the
color.”

“Dynamite red.”

They laughed out loud.

Eastie and Oakes had a snicker too. Haylee
asked Johnny, “What’s so funny?”

He had a guess but said, “I dunno.”

Pssssss…

Rusty sprayed the bundle. He put it on
heavy. The paint dripped like blood. Though he didn’t bother to let
it dry. He lifted it edgewise. “This goes on top.”

Eastie brought over the brown leather bag
and opened it up. The stink was epic.

“Be my guest.”

Rusty shoved it in.

But his freckled face sank. “There’s
something missing.”

Rusty made Hank and Oakes look too. They
winced at the smell. Hank kept his distance.

“You can’t really tell what it’s s’posed to
be,” said Eastie. Big Oakes nodded no.

Hank looked again. “I’d say it’s a mess.
Gross but…”

“Not what we’re going for. Rats!” Rusty
tried spitting a couple more times. That was the sign that he was
thinking.

Inside the Carvers’ telephone rang. It came
loud and clear through a broken front window.

Rusty’s ears twitched. His beady green eyes
got buggy. “Duh!” He slapped his forehead and disappeared into the
cellar behind him.

The gang didn’t have to wait for long. He
was back in an instant armed with a flashlight and a shoebox full
of stuff.

“This’ll do the trick I bet.”

He brought the box over to where he had
painted and dumped the whole contents onto the wall. Out fell a
glow-in-the-dark alarm clock, a big square battery, and some
wire.

Rusty rubbed his hands together then pulled
out the flashlight tucked into his belt. “Who wants to help finish
off this stink bomb?” The sticky red paint was still on his
mitts.

“I’m in!”

“Let’s do this.”

“It’s almost time…”

Darkness suddenly cloaked the kids. Night
came down. A pale moon eyed them.

Eastie, Oakes, and Hank did the dirty work.
Rusty played mastermind, flashing directions. “Wind it up Cappy.
They gotta hear ticking.” But he let the spotlight do most of the
talking.

“Pssst.”

It was Haylee. “I can’t see, Johnny. Your
dumb trick is boring. I wanna go home.”

“Shhh. Hold on Sis,” Johnny begged her.
“Can’t leave now. They’re almost done.”

They squinted at Rusty holding the bag with
a grin on his face.

“Cuz this part’s fun…”

The teenage entourage made for the moonlit
road and stopped to look both ways. There wasn’t a car in sight.
Not a soul.

“The usual spot?”

“I don’t care.”

“Your call Rust-man.”

But Rusty didn’t hesitate. He took a quick
left and walked up toward the hillcrest.

Everyone followed single file. Hank. Then
the older boys. Haylee and Johnny. They didn’t have to go too
far.

Rusty pulled up when he got to a place where
the sky opened wide. “They’ll see it good here.” He put down the
pocketbook right on the pavement.

Just then something caught Johnny’s eye. A
glow way down the hill. It was growing. And fast. The telephone
wires lit up.

“Car!”

Now everyone heard it coming. Metal rattled.
Tires screeched. The engine roared.

And Rusty roared too. “Don’t just stand
there like roadkill — hide!”

They scattered in the nick of time.

A beat-up old pickup truck blew by the bag.
It nearly hit it but didn’t stop.

Heads popped up from behind the gray stone
walls that lined both sides of the road. Six of them. Twelve eyes
in the dark.

Johnny could make out four human shapes
across the street. One waved him over. He recognized Hank’s
silhouette. “Come on Haylee. They got a better view up there.”

But all of a sudden he noticed a fifth more
beastly thing. It came from nowhere. Fangs on four legs — they
shined in the moonlight. “Killer…

“On second thought, let’s stay put.”

Haylee just nodded and zipped up her
sweatshirt. She copied him watching the empty road. But after a
minute she cleared her throat. “Hey Johnny,” she asked, “what
is
the trick?”

“Huh?”

She asked again.

He giggled. “I guess I just figured…”

She shook her head. “Is it magic?”

“Not that kinda trick. A prank. And you
won’t believe who invented it.”

“Rusty?”

“Nope. Not even close.”

“Who?”

“Dad.”

“Dad?”

“Well maybe he didn’t invent it… but he said
they did it when he was a kid.”

“Did what?”

He pointed to the road. “His brothers and
him, Uncle Jerry and Jack — they’d take one o’ Gramma’s junky old
pocketbooks, fill it with cow pies, and see who stopped. They
called it the ‘pocketbook trick’. It still works…”

He paused like he was picturing
something.

“But not everybody gets the joke.”

“What’d ya mean?”

“Ummm, just be ready to run.”

Haylee now had a lot more questions but she
could hear shouts from across the street.

“Incoming!”

“Red alert!”