Kings of Ruin

by Sam Cameron

  The driveway was gated, so Eric parked in the street, and they made their way up the overgrown walkway. The porch creaked loudly when Eric stepped on it. Yellowed newspapers lay piled by the door, and spider webs hung over the front door.

  “Who’d you say this guy was?” Danny asked.

  “Some retired guy from Detroit—” Eric yelped. “Look at that spider!”

  The black spider hanging upside down above their heads was the biggest, ugliest one that Danny had ever seen—as big as a dinner plate, with bright red eyes. Electric eyes.

  “That’s no normal spider,” Danny said.

  The front door swung open on its own. Behind it were darkness and the smell of mold.

  Eric asked, “Are we going in there?”

  “You bet,” Danny said and stepped inside.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Eric said, “Wish we had a flashlight.”

  Danny fumbled around on the wall until he found three switches. The first one did nothing, nor did the second, but the third made the chandelier over them burst into light.

  The minute the chandelier lit up, a toy police truck beeped on the stairway. A fire truck raced their way and stopped with its lights flashing. A black helicopter lifted off the scuffed hardwood floors and landed again. The noise of it made Eric step sideways against Danny, who nearly tripped over a small monster truck.

  “Whoa!” Eric said. “What is this, some freaky toy store?”

  Carefully, Danny picked up the monster truck. “I don’t think they’re regular toys.”

  A man’s voice spoke from the far end of the hall. “Of course they’re not!”

  The owner of the voice stepped forward. He was an elderly man with long gray hair and hoop earrings in both ears. He wore a Muddy Waters T-shirt under his cardigan sweater and was carrying a circuit board in one hand.

  “Are you Mr. Beaudreau?” Eric asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.” The man stifled a deep, rattling cough. When he was done he said, “Do you know 2KEWLE? Have you seen him?”

  The hope was so naked in his voice that Danny hated to disappoint him. “Not lately. But we’d like to talk to you about him.”

  Beaudreau coughed into a handkerchief. “You’d better come on back to the kitchen.”

  The “kitchen” was the largest and brightest room in the house. Somewhere there was a refrigerator and stove and sink, but almost every flat surface was covered with radio-controlled vehicles in various stages of assembly or disassembly. There were also dozens of cardboard boxes filled with spare tires, frames, wires, motors, boards, and other parts. The kitchen table itself was a workbench. A transistor radio in the middle of it was playing Janis Joplin.

  “If you can find something to drink, you’re welcome to it.” Beaudreau coughed again, sounding like a man who’d smoked all his life and quit too late. He donned a pair of eyeglasses and squinted at them with a frown. “But be careful where you put it. They don’t like water much. Scares them.”

  Eric took in all of the electronics and said, “My sister would love this place.”

  “Bring her, too.” Beaudreau donned another pair of glasses. “Now, what’s this about 2KEWLE? Has he been causing trouble?”

  “You keep saying ‘he,’” Danny said. “Like he’s a person.”

  Beaudreau sat unsteadily on a stool. “Just like a person! All of them are.”

  Danny eyed the fire truck, police car, and other vehicles that had rolled to the doorway and were watching the humans.

  “Like real people?” Eric asked. “Ghosts of real people?”

  Danny remembered Ford’s warnings about treason and federal law and kept his mouth shut.

  Beaudreau picked up a circuit board and examined it carefully. Without looking at them, he asked, “Do you know your laws of thermodynamics? What happens when you have a high-energy system connected to one with lower energy? For instance, two adjacent rooms, one hot and one cold. You open the door and what happens?”

  Danny rubbed the back of his head. “Energy migrates. The high energy—heat—moves to the low energy.”

  “And the cold air goes to the hot room,” Eric said.

  “No,” Danny told him. “Not spontaneously.”

  Beaudreau lifted his head and beamed at Danny. “Someone’s been paying attention in school.”

  “Is that what you’re talking about?” Danny asked. “Things that come from a world of higher energy into ours?”

  Beaudreau straightened his back. He put the circuit board down. “I’ll tell you a story. About a factory. The industry of America, where Henry Ford’s dreams came true. One day, the workers punched a hole in the wall between two rooms, and no one’s ever found a way to close it. They had to shut down the factory and open up another, thousands of miles away. But even then, another hole opened. Do you understand?”

  “Do you mean car factories?” Danny said. “Like Detroit?”

  “All my life, I worked in Flint,” Beaudreau said. “Gave it everything I had. Then General Motors closed the plants and the whole town collapsed. But that didn’t shut the breaches. Mexico, China, Russia—wherever there’s an assembly line, they punch through.”

  “My dad was born in Detroit,” Danny said. “His father and grandfather worked in the factories.”

  “That explains it!” Beaudreau said. “You play guitar, too?”

  “A little,” Danny said. “Explains what?”

  Beaudreau coughed into his handkerchief. Danny couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw flecks of blood in it.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor,” Danny said.

  Beaudreau waved the handkerchief. “No doctor can help me now.”

  Eric said, “I don’t understand. What are you two talking about?”

  “Breaches and holes,” Beaudreau said. “You carry Detroit in your blood, young man. The blues and the assembly lines. No wonder 2KEWLE likes you.”

  Danny asked, “Is 2KEWLE one of the bad guys?”

  Beaudreau looked offended. “Of course not! Who have you been listening to? Those fools who work for the government?” He broke off into another cough, and Danny was alarmed at the rattling sound he made when he breathed. Beaudreau continued, “The Department of Transportation has one mission only: destruction. I tried to tell them. Bureaucrats. They never listen.”

  Outside the house, metal clattered.

  “That’ll be him now,” Beaudreau said.

  The cat flap in the kitchen door opened. 2KEWLE bumped over the sill, rolled weakly toward Beaudreau, and died.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “It’s all right,” Beaudreau said around some more coughing. “He just needs a new battery. He’s supposed to come home before it’s too late, but sometimes he pushes himself too far.”

  He scooped up 2KEWLE, put him on the table, and flipped him over. A few deft moves and one battery later, 2KEWLE revved back to life. He popped a little wheelie and beeped his horn.

  Eric asked, “Are you trying to say there’s some kind of alien from another world hanging out in that toy?”

  “He’s not a toy,” Beaudreau said.

  “Can he find the other ones?” Danny asked. “The ones the government is looking for?”

  2KEWLE beeped his horn three times.

  Beaudreau sat back on his stool and crossed his arm. “Kings, eh? Who have you been talking to, boy?”

  Eric said, “Yeah, who?”

  Danny shrugged. “Some people.”

  “Some people.” Beaudreau coughed again, deep and hacking. “Federal agents, it sounds like. Don’t believe everything they tell you. They’ve got their own plans, their own secrets. They see only black and white, and no shades of gray. If they had their way, they’d destroy all of these Ruins too.”

  The tiny machines in the doorway all rolled backward.

  “Two of our classmates were killed last night,” Danny said. “More people could die.”

  Eric said, “Now you’re sounding melodramatic.”

  �
�Kings always kill again.” Beaudreau’s eyebrows drew together in consternation. “But such a dangerous job is not for boys. You should leave it to the professionals.”

  “Bureaucrats,” Danny reminded him.

  After a moment’s indecision, Beaudreau nodded. He looked down at 2KEWLE. “What do you think? Can you help them?”

  2KEWLE popped another wheelie.

  “That means yes,” Beaudreau said.

  *

  Eric said, “I can’t believe I’ve got some alien-possessed toy leading me around town.”

  “Think of it as a special kind of GPS system,” Danny suggested.

  They had 2KEWLE propped on the dashboard. It was almost nine o’clock at night, and there wasn’t much traffic on the road.

  “How are we supposed to stop this King thing?” Eric asked.

  “I don’t know. And you’re not supposed to know, okay? This is all secret government stuff.”

  Eric squinted at him. “Did you get some crazy part-time job that I don’t know about?”

  Danny tried not to squirm. “It doesn’t matter. Just remember, if you start blabbing, I end up in jail for treason. Let’s just find this thing, okay?”

  2KEWLE beeped agreement.

  They turned left and right, winding through the streets of Piedmont, until 2KEWLE started rocking back and forth in excitement. Eric led them further up into the hills on the east side of town, into richer and richer neighborhoods, until they came to a mansion that looked like a mini White House plucked down on a Tennessee hilltop. Dozens and dozens of cars were parked in the driveway and on the lawn. Country music blasted out of the windows.

  Eric snorted. “Good job. This thing brought us right to Junior Conway’s party.”

  Danny groaned. “You’re kidding.”

  Eric parked on the edge of a dirt road that swung around to a barn and pastures. Danny doubted that any Conway ever actually milked a cow, but appearances were important. The minute Danny opened his door, 2KEWLE jumped down and roared through the grass.

  Hey!” Danny shouted. “Where are you going?”

  2KEWLE beeped its horn and disappeared under the wheels of an SUV.

  “Stupid thing,” Danny said. “Help me look for him.”

  They searched for several minutes, looking under trucks and cars, but 2KEWLE was nowhere to be found. Finally, Eric said, “Look, it’s a party. Maybe he went inside for a beer.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Well, I need a drink,” Eric said. “All this crazy talk has made me thirsty. You coming?”

  “No. I’ll meet you later.”

  Left alone, Danny kept looking for 2KEWLE. “Come on, come out. What are you doing?”

  But the toy didn’t show itself.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Just as Kevin was about to plummet into the raging water and rocks below the bridge, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. He fell toward the deck of the bridge and landed in his father’s strong, rough arms.

  His father, who seemed determined to squeeze him to death.

  “Next time you do something this dumb,” Ford said into Kevin’s right ear, “I’m going to kill you myself.”

  Other voices; other helping hands; gradually Kevin found himself sitting in the cab of the tow truck. He wasn’t wet, but someone put a blanket around him anyway. The police were busy holding back traffic while the firemen and paramedics treated Officer McCoy. The King was gone, which was bad news.

  Plus, everyone had seen the purple and gold explosion as it catapulted into the air, which was even worse news when it came to national security secrets.

  “Are we all going to get fired?” he asked as his dad handed him a cup of coffee from a thermos.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Ford said.

  Kevin drank the coffee gratefully. He was ridiculously cold, even with the blanket around him. “But everyone saw it.”

  “People don’t know what they see,” Ford replied. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. “Kevin, I know you blame yourself for Dallas, but you can’t take risks like this. I can’t lose you.”

  All of a sudden, the dark swirls in Kevin’s cup looked pretty fascinating. “This wasn’t about Dallas.”

  Ford squeezed his shoulder. “Dallas was a mistake. I don’t hold you responsible. I hold myself responsible because I’m the leader of this team.”

  “But I screwed up!” Kevin insisted. “I should have been faster, driven better—”

  Ford shook his head. “I say that every day about the accident that killed your mother. But we’re not stronger than the Kings. We’re not faster. We do the best we can, and we move on. But I won’t be able to move on if you get yourself killed.”

  Kevin blinked against sudden wetness in his eyes. “That kind of works both ways, Dad.”

  Ford gave him another hug.

  Gear came over, interrupting the moment. “The cops need you, Ford. Flash them your badge, will you?”

  Ford squeezed Kevin’s shoulder again before leaving.

  Eventually, Officer McCoy was taken away in an ambulance, the damaged patrol car was towed away, the inspectors cleared the bridge for reopening, and traffic began to clear away. No one was paying attention to Kevin when his phone rang. Danny’s number. He slid out of Richie Venezuela’s truck and walked a few feet away.

  “Hi,” Danny said. “You busy?”

  “Not so much,” Kevin said carefully. “Why?”

  “There’s a party. You should come.”

  No one had ever asked Kevin to come to a party. It was such a new experience that he wasn’t sure he’d heard Danny correctly. “A what?”

  “A party. Up at Moon Conway’s house.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “You should come,” Danny insisted.

  Kevin wanted to yell a little bit. Didn’t Danny understand how important finding the King was? Kevin had a job to do. He wasn’t in town to go to parties or get drunk or do whatever suburban kids did when their parents weren’t looking over their shoulders. This wasn’t about recreation or pleasure.

  “I think I might have found 2KEWLE,” Danny added.

  That changed everything.

  *

  “I’m not going to turn you in,” Danny said into the darkness, hoping 2KEWLE was listening. “I just need to ask some questions.”

  The toy didn’t answer.

  While waiting for Kevin to show up, Danny hiked around to the pool. Girls in skinny jeans and boys in cowboy hats were dancing and drinking. Open doors led into the ballroom. Danny couldn’t believe Moon even had a ballroom. Everything inside was dark and hot and pulsing with light, and the crowd was so dense that Danny had trouble making out the details of faces.

  But he knew who these kids were, even without seeing their faces. They were the cool kids from Piedmont—the jocks, the cheerleaders, kids whose parents had money or fame. Not him. He didn’t care. When he was an adult, he planned to be famous for his music, not because of who he knew or what parties he got invited to.

  He got about a dozen steps inside before he ran into Junior.

  “You.” Junior’s eyes were not quite focused, and his drawl was heavier than usual. Too much to drink already. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just crashing through,” Danny said.

  Eric joined them with two plastic cups in hand. “We hear you were auctioning off your car, Junior. Raffle tickets to benefit the football team’s brain damage fund.”

  Junior’s expression slid into disbelief. “My car? Who’s auctioning my car?”

  “Some girl outside,” Eric said.

  Junior lurched off. Eric said, “Here you go,” and handed Danny a cup. He sniffed it, smelled some kind of alcohol, and put it on the nearest table.

  “His parents let him have parties like this?” Danny asked, climbing the wide circular stairway.

  Eric shrugged. “Moon Senior’s at Country Harvest all weekend. Besides, they’ve got houses like I�
��ve got zits. Probably don’t use this one half the time.”

  A pretty girl in a low top came down the stairs toward Danny. “Aren’t you Junior’s cousin?”

  “No,” he said.

  She sashayed off down the stairs, disappointed.

  “Idiot.” Eric punched Danny’s arm. “When someone asks if you’re the rich, famous kid’s cousin, you say yes!”

  Eric followed the girl. Danny bit back impatience. What was taking Kevin so long? He should go back to waiting outside. He turned on the stairs and found his way blocked by Laura, who was wearing a low-cut red shirt and a big grin.

  “You came!” She grabbed his hands. “All day I was calling you!”

  Danny recoiled at the smell of beer on her breath. “You’ve been drinking.”

  Laura threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! A lot!”

  “Come on. Let’s go upstairs where it’s quiet.” Danny led her to the second-floor landing, where she leaned against a wall and nearly knocked over a side table.

  “Easy,” Danny said, rescuing the table. “How much did you drink?”

  “Not enough.” Laura pulled Danny closer and played with the buttons on his shirt. “It’s okay. I feel great. It’s better this way.”

  Passing strangers jostled Danny and made him step closer.

  “Why’s it better, Laura?”

  “You know, always having to be good.” She sighed. “Don’t you get tired of it? Do this, do that, babysit, get good grades, all the time. I’m so tired of that. Come on this way. I want to show you something.”

  She pulled him into a guest bedroom and closed the door.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Danny had not, in his wildest dreams, imagined his day would end like this: a nicely furnished bedroom, country music pounding through the walls, Laura backing him against the wall and kissing his mouth like she wanted to eat him alive.

  He wanted to like the kissing. Or the way, her firm breasts pressed against him. He put his hands on her silky hair and smooth back and waited for something special to flow through him, like electricity. Surely, bisexual was better than gay, right?