The Adventures of Kid Combat Volume One: A Secret Lost (3 page)

The three boys flew over Jones’s twelve-foot
wall to safety. A few hundred feet down the road, the twins dropped
Kid off at his ride—a bike stashed in a neighbor’s bush.

“Thanks, boys,” Kid said over his
communicator as the boys continued to fly off. “I couldn’t have
done it without you.”

“You got that right,” Wedge responded. “We
will see you tomorrow in class.”

In the interest of safety, the boys split up.
The twins reported back home and planned for an update in the
morning. However, Kid Combat still had an assignment. He was to
report to Samantha and give her the envelope so she could begin
deciphering its contents. Kid, too, would have to wait until the
next day to get any news.

At the mansion, the night was far from over.
A few minutes after Kid’s escape, a frightened man entered an
office. He opened the huge red mahogany double doors to the room
and quietly crept in.

As he slowly approached the oversize desk on
the far side of the room, he looked around the room. He was
terrified to find himself alone with his boss.

The room was the main office on the second
floor of the mansion. It was his boss’s domain. While the room was
used mostly for business, it resembled a library more than anything
else. Both side walls were covered from floor to ceiling with
books. Law books, science books, and medical books were the main
areas of study, but countless other subjects littered the room. The
rows of literature gave the room a deep, musty smell.

Sliding ladders were mounted on each long
bookcase. They slid the entire length of the walls to allow easy
access to the top shelves. The massive desk was the only place in
the room where someone could sit. Gold candlesticks sat on a number
of small tables all around the room. The room was full of candles.
The mansion’s owner liked to read by candlelight. He said it
heightened the experience. The candles were all unlit, save for one
on the desk, but its small flame flickered and blew out when the
man opened the doors. The only remaining light came from the full
moon outside.

The man entering the room was simply known as
“Two.” In his late thirties, he was a tall, slender man with
thinning hair on his head and no facial hair. He typically wore all
black, as was the case that night. Two was the right-hand man of
his boss, Phillip Arthur Jones. He did odd jobs for Jones and took
to his affairs. And while he lived in constant fear of Jones, he
dreamed of having his power one day.

Two almost tiptoed in his black shoes as if
not wanting to bring any attention to himself. But he needed to
give a status report to his boss. It was routine, but he feared
delivering this particular report.

He was in charge of securing the intruder and
the envelope. Now, both were gone. This would not go over well with
Jones.

Two reached the desk and stared at the back
of the chair. Jones struck a match, which illuminated a small part
of the room. The smell of sulfur became thick in the air, and puffs
of pipe smoke quickly filled the room. There was a long pause. Two
had no other choice but to speak.

“He got away, sir,” he said in a trembling
voice.

He received no answer as only more puffs of
smoke emerged from the other side of the chair.

Another pause. Two tried again.

“He—”

“I know,” a deep voice interrupted. Jones
continued to look out the window onto his property below. He had
witnessed the whole exchange of events in his backyard. “Did you
get a look at him?”

"No, ah, no, sir,” Two said. He knew he let
his boss down and feared any and all repercussions. “What do you
want to do now, sir?”

The figure behind the desk extended his arm
out and gave a quick flick of his wrist.

“Leave me,” he said in a low, disgruntled
voice.

Two quickly obeyed. He turned and left the
office, closing the double doors behind him.

The mysterious man stood and walked over to a
window overlooking the backyard. He stood there for several seconds
in silence, staring at a ripped piece of paper in his hand. It was
the remains of the envelope he once possessed. Jones found the
small piece, with its frayed ends and ripped corners, on the floor
near the edge of his desk. On it, only one word was
etched—SOCKs.

Holding it tightly in his hand, he crushed
the paper. In a low, frustrated voice, he spoke.

“I’ll get you, Kid Combat, whoever you are
…”

Chapter Two:

A Day at School

The next morning in Elmcrest was grim. The
sun was nowhere to be seen, and thick, dense clouds were rolling in
from the south. Massive gray and dark brown clouds engulfed the sky
and threatened rain upon anyone who dared go beneath them. The rain
never came that day, but the next few days were to be nasty.

In spite of the weather, the town buzzed in
the early hours, as it did every weekday. Adults rushed off to work
in their luxury cars or caught the train from the downtown station.
Rows and rows of cars lined the main streets, and the sounds of a
typical workday filled the air.

Elmcrest had always been a busy town, even in
happier, simpler times. The people were always hardworking, and the
town flourished because of it. It wasn’t the wealthiest of towns,
but a modest living was all its residents were looking for. The
people of Elmcrest would work hard, then head home and enjoy their
families. It was a typical town.

Five years prior, it was common for residents
to know everyone on their block. There was a real feeling of
community. There was no need to lock the doors or feel threatened
by any crime. Parents knew the other parents and even more so the
children. On any given day, kids could be seen laughing and playing
on every street corner, in every park, and inside every home.
Elmcrest was a perfect place to raise a family.

But all that had changed because of one man-
Phillip Arthur Jones. Over a few short years, Elmcrest grew into a
great capitalistic city. People started to see the glitz and the
power of the dollar, and things started to change for the small
town. And Jones led the movement.

Word spread quickly about the wealth that
Elmcrest had accumulated. It was common place to double your salary
in just a few short months- if you followed Jones and his plan.
Soon, people from towns near and far flocked there to build upon
the vast empire and collect their own share. More and more
businesses went up, and more and more land was suffocated and
turned into strip malls, luxury apartments, and parking garages.
Land was bought and sold, and soon, what wasn’t a lavish business
was nothing more than concrete.

As the city grew from a small town atmosphere
to a larger, busier city- crime went up too. People became greedy
in their chase for more money and would stop at nothing to get it.
It was no longer common place to know the neighbor down the street
and parents became cynical and trust dropped in the community. All
over town doors began to lock.

As those doors locked, and the land in
Elmcrest was eaten up by businesses- there were fewer places for a
kid to go.

Homes went up, too, not just in value, but in
size. One by one, the old cozy, family-friendly houses were
demolished, and bigger, more modern houses were put in their place.
The cold, faceless buildings were not built for great comfort or
for practical purposes. Instead, they were built to show how
important their owners were in the new society.

The houses went modern, the yards and parks
got smaller, and the kids retreated into their overpriced asylums
with nothing more to guide them than their favorite TV program or
video game. Everything changed in Elmcrest in what seemed a blink
of an eye. There was no more time to focus on family values or
caring for one another. Everything was put on hold for the pursuit
of the almighty dollar.

Sadly, there also was no time left to even
raise a child anymore. One by one, parents starting whizzing off to
work and leaving their children to fend for themselves. Kids lined
up on street corners to wait for their buses, or they walked in
packs to school, even on days like this one, when thunder rumbled
from high above them.

As the morning rolled on, fewer and fewer
people muddled the streets, kids disappeared into their schools,
and Elmcrest went on with business as usual. Another day was under
way.

In the middle of a neighborhood on the south
end of town sat Lincoln Elementary School. The two-story school
made of rust-colored bricks was a small and well-respected school.
On average, it had two classes for each of the grade levels,
kindergarten through fifth grade. The school was surrounded by
concrete grounds that housed a massive jungle gym and a variety of
other equipment. On the far end were two regulation-size basketball
courts.

Within the walls of Lincoln, not much had
changed during the town’s push for superiority. With little of the
town’s money funded for public education, the old school continued
to flourish as it had for years. And this day was no exception. In
fact, the excitement in the small classrooms was growing by the
second. As the day wore on, closer and closer came the best part of
any kid’s life—summer vacation. The buzz was almost palpable as
kids eagerly waited for the final bell. Each classroom was at a low
roar as kids discussed everything in the world but school.

In a fourth-grade classroom on the second
floor, Kyle Christensen sat in his chair and pondered the previous
night. The envelope, Jones, and the secrecy of the alliance were
all concerns in his young mind, and he didn’t know how to handle
any of them. It was definitely a dark day for Kyle, and he didn’t
feel like celebrating with his fellow classmates.

As he sat in his chair, thoughts racing
through his mind, his communicator vibrated. On his left wrist was
an ordinary ten-dollar convenience store watch. The only difference
between the mass-produced product and the one Kyle wore was that
his had been reprogrammed and re-engineered by his buddy Gears. The
watch now boasted a mini processor and a digital display that
allowed the members of Kid Combat’s secret alliance to communicate
with one another when it was unsafe to talk. Kyle looked around the
room as the other children sat at their desks listening to the
teacher. He glanced down at the digital display. It read:

“What about Diesel?”

Perplexed, Kyle looked at the screen a second
time. He didn’t understand the communication, but since it was a
secure line, only a handful of people could have sent it. He looked
to his far left and saw Gears, whose nose was buried deep in a
book. Three chairs in front of him, he saw Wedge starring out the
door at the clock in the hall. He had already tuned everyone out
and was counting the seconds to the end of the school year.
Unfortunately, he still had a while to go.

Kyle found the sender of the message just to
the right of Wedge—Timmy. He had turned in his seat and was staring
at Kyle. His shoulders shrugged, and he mouthed the word, “Well?”
Poor Timmy. The ten-year-old boy struggled to find his identity
within the alliance. For months, he had tried, and failed, to
choose a nickname that aptly suited him—from Blade to Torque to
Crankshaft to Hammer. There was even a brief stint as Flower (the
group had a field day with that one). And now, his latest creation
was Diesel. He tried so hard.

Kyle sat there and shook his head back and
forth. Not understanding what that meant, Timmy sat there and
waited for an answer. Kyle went back to his left wrist, keyed in
the letters “NO” on the device, and sent the infrared signal across
the room. Timmy looked down at his wrist and without a word- turned
around in disgust.

Seconds later, another message came across
Kyle’s communicator, this one with a little more urgency. It was
from Samantha. Kyle turned and glanced at her chair. It was empty.
That was not so much a shock, as Samantha was known to miss some
days of school. Funny thing was that somehow, the school computer
always thought she was there. Obviously an oversight.

“Message decoded. Stop by immediately.
Sam”

That doesn’t sound good, Kyle thought. The
news in the envelope retrieved back at Jones’s mansion must have
been worse than expected. That could only mean one of two things—
Jones either knew Kid Combat’s identity or he was plotting
something evil. Either way, it wasn’t shaping up to be a good day
to be Kid Combat, summer vacation or not.

Kyle’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound
of his teacher’s voice.

“Class, it’s time for a recess. Since it’s
our last day, it will be a shortened one. I expect all of you back
in one half hour,” the teacher said. Within seconds, kids bolted
from their desks and out the door.

Minutes later, students were scattered across
the front playground. The boys were off playing basketball or
keep-away. The girls were in packs of their own, making fun of the
boys and discussing, well, whatever girls discussed. Near the
monkey bars, Kyle, Gears, Wedge, and Timmy met. They huddled
closely. Wedge spoke first.

“Why the long face?” he asked Kyle.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Gears asked. “Is it about
last night?”

For a moment, Kyle was in a slight daze. He
then responded with, “Yeah.”

“What is it?” Timmy asked with anxiety in his
voice.

“I got a message from Samantha near the end
of class,” Kyle said. “She deciphered the contents of the
envelope.”

The three other boys took a step back in near
unison and gasped for air. They could tell by Kyle’s demeanor that
it wasn’t good news.

“What was in it?” Gears asked quickly.

“She didn’t say,” Kyle followed right
back.

“Does she know who sent it?” Timmy chimed
in.

“I don’t know,” Kyle said quickly, with a
little agitation in his voice.