Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to risk your life.” Jahrys didn’t need any more of his friends dying.

  Kevrin hoisted the bags onto his back and placed a hand on Jahrys’s shoulder. “We’re a team, Jahrys. You’re not going out there without me.” He gave Jahrys a smile. “Now, hand me a helmet.”

  Jahrys grabbed a helmet and gave it to his friend.

  “Thanks,” Jahrys said.

  “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family.”

  Family. That word felt strange to Jahrys. His family was dead. The Hoarders murdered them three years ago.

  But Kevrin had been there for him as long as he could remember. He had been there through all of the harassment from Rallick, Stade, and Taygar. He was there those times with his family at the Sandy Shore. He was there when they would travel south into Kaluk and go fishing in the Two Branch River. He was there when they would practice their sword fighting, hoping to one day become Knights of the Poolesguard. And he was there during the Hoarding. Kevrin was his family. He was a brother.

  They walked out of the back room, towards the door of The Arcalane. Miller tried to follow them out.

  “You stay here, Miller.” Jahrys pointed a finger at the chicken.

  Miller cocked a large eye up at Jahrys.

  “The Junkland is no place for a chicken.” Miller turned and skittered away from the door. Whether he actually listened to Jahrys or something else had caught the chicken’s attention, Jahrys hadn’t the faintest idea.

  It was dark and foggy outside. It was still nighttime, possibly closer to early morning. Since Kevrin didn’t wear a Captor Pack, the light on his helmet didn’t work. So Jahrys had to use the light on his helmet to guide both of them.

  “So,” Kevrin said to Jahrys as they turned left outside The Arcalane. They headed down what remained of Zalus Road. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so eager to get back out here?”

  On their walk, Jahrys explained everything that had happened in The Arcalane after Kevrin had gone to bed. Jahrys told him about the old lady, the job she had offered him, and how he had discovered the diary entry. He explained to Kevrin how Lily Bellsworth had been Princess Alana the entire time and how he had to get into the castle to save her from her father’s imprisonment.

  “So the girl you’ve had a crush on this whole time turned out to be the princess in disguise?” Kevrin shook his head, he couldn’t believe it. “You kissed the princess?”

  Jahrys nodded.

  “That’s my boy! Kissing royalty. I always knew you had it in you.” He gave Jahrys a slap on his shoulder.

  “I didn’t know she was a princess. I wouldn’t have been so forward if I knew!” Jahrys was glad Kevrin couldn’t see how red his face was through his helmet.

  “Maybe that’s the reason she lied to you. I can’t believe you had a date with the princess and didn’t even know it!” Kevrin was still shaking his head in disbelief. “Just don’t mention this to Ebanie. If she found out you kissed the princess, she will have a meltdown.”

  “Ebanie’s the last thing on my mind right now. I need to find that bottle of wine before I miss my chance of entering the castle.”

  “Oh, right. The job the old lady gave you. You really think she’s telling the truth? I mean, how does an old lady have a way of getting into the castle when we don’t even have a clue?” Kevrin asked. “It just doesn’t add up to me.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out. And I really have nothing to lose. If I fail, I’ll just carry on my legacy of being the worst Retriever in the Junkland.”

  “I think you mean we will carry on our legacy of being the worst Retrievers in the Junkland.”

  Jahrys laughed. “Hopefully since we’re a team, we can enter the castle together.”

  “Yea, that would be nice. I wouldn’t mind becoming a real knight. Sir Kevrin Danell. I like the sound of that!” He said while ducking underneath a rotten tree. “What would you go by? Sir Jahrys Grent? No. What about—Sir O’Jahrys Grent? Now that’s a name for a true knight. People will remember you as Sir O’Jahrys Grent, the Princess Kisser.”

  Jahrys didn’t like it. He hated O’Jahrys. “I’ll just stick with Jahrys.”

  Kevrin shrugged. There was a pause before he asked, “So, where are we going exactly?”

  “I was going to check my old house down Zalus Road. We can check to see if the Retrievers missed any bottles of wine in my father’s old cellar in our backyard. If there’s nothing left, my father used to always talk about a hidden stash of wine hidden somewhere inside the house.”

  “Yea, that sounds like a good idea,” Kevrin said in agreement.

  They continued down the road. The junk walls on either side of them gradually grew higher and higher the farther they walked. They had to dodge scattered junk blocks that had toppled down from the walls.

  They passed Pastor Allen’s old church. Surprisingly, it was not crumpled down to pieces from the weight of the wall on top of it. The golden hands of Zalus were hanging at an awkward angle and the windows were shattered to pieces, however.

  Jahrys almost expected to see Pastor Allen, preaching to the world from his steps about his insane beliefs. I guess he wasn’t insane after all, he thought, thinking back to the day Pastor Allen passed out on the steps.

  Jahrys still remembered his words.

  With dusk comes the dreadful night,

  When giant walls block out the light.

  Yellow rain will fall. A storm of eternity!

  Taking it all as the innocents lose energy.

  Oh Zalus!

  Come down from the Western Mountains

  With your palms of light.

  And save us from the darkness

  That will bring us all an endless night.

  And where are you now, Zalus? Jahrys thought, as they continued walking, stepping over broken, cracked steps that covered the road.

  It took him and Kevrin most of the night to walk down the road. While keeping an eye out for Hoarders, they reminisced about the old times they had had together before the Hoarding. All the times they used to mess with Hugo’s short temper. The times they had failed to meet girls and all of the fights they had gotten into with Rallick and his gang. But those times were long gone and it was strange seeing the road this deserted and quiet.

  While the fog had cleared, it was still dark. The light on Jahrys’s helmet guided them down the road. They made sure to stick close to the side so if they were seen, they could escape down a side path.

  Jahrys had been worried his house wouldn’t be there anymore. But there it was. Still standing tall and proud. Well, maybe not tall and proud, but it was still standing. A junk wall had piled onto the far side of his home and spread into the backyard. It looked like his bedroom was crushed on the second floor. But the rest of the house was still in good shape.

  They walked around the left side of Jahrys’s house, towards the remaining part of the backyard.

  “Let’s check the cellar first.” Jahrys pointed to the cellar to the right of the back door.

  Jahrys and Kevrin had to lift junk blocks to clear the hatch to the cellar. Some were more heavy than others, but they were still manageable. It reminded Jahrys of all the boxes of wine he had to lift for his father.

  After they were done clearing the blocks and the loose debris, Jahrys pulled on the cellar door handle. It took him a few tries to open the cellar door since it was caved in. He eventually ripped it open and walked down the steps, using the light on his helmet to guide him.

  “Damn. Nothing,” Jahrys said in disappointment.

  “What do we do now?” Kevrin asked, gazing down at the empty cellar.

  “Let’s go into the house and find where my father kept the hidden stash.”

  They stepped up to the doorless back entrance and entered Jahrys’s home. They had to keep their heads low to avoid banging them on the ceiling that was caving in. They walked through the kitchen and into the living room.


  Memories flooded through Jahrys’s mind. Memories of all those awkward dinners with his family in the kitchen. Memories of his father always examining his woodwork and his mother yelling at him to put it away. Memories of Miller scurrying around the living room, pecking at his and his parent’s feet.

  Everything was gone now. There was no kitchen table or chairs, no dishes, no cabinet doors, and no living room furniture. His father was not analyzing his woodwork and his mother was not cleaning the dishes, yelling at his father to help. Jahrys never thought he would miss those things. He would give anything in the world to have it all back.

  “Look over here,” Kevrin kept his voice low. He was pointing at the wooden floor in the corner of the room.

  Jahrys went to look. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Look at the wood. It looks like it has been lifted a few times,” said Kevrin, looking over at Jahrys.

  “This is where we used to keep the couch,” Jahrys pointed out. “He must have hid his stash under here.”

  Jahrys reached his hand out to the loose wood, his gloves gripping into the fold. He lifted the panel. There were a couple of snaps as the nails broke off one by one. Once the panel of wood was free, Jahrys threw it to the side and started on the next one.

  He continued until it was large enough for a person to squeeze in.

  Jahrys stepped forward but Kevrin placed an arm across his chest.

  “Let me go,” Kevrin insisted, handing Jahrys his bag but keeping his own.

  Jahrys wasn’t about to argue; he didn’t like cramped spaces. He took his bag, placing it on the side, and watched as Kevrin squeezed through the opening, disappearing into the darkness. Jahrys heard the clanking of glass—his bag must have knocked something over—and the echoes from Kevrin’s footsteps.

  After a few minutes of waiting, Jahrys yelled down. “Did you find anything?” His voice echoed back up at him.

  A bottle popped up through the opening. “Is this what you were looking for?” Kevrin yelled up from below.

  “By Zalus…my father’s wine. We found it!” Jahrys grabbed the bottle and held it in front of his helmet. The label on it read: Palor Red. The wine of Astenpoole. Grapes harvested fresh from the backyard of the Grent family.

  This brought a tear to Jahrys’s eye. He could see his father now, smiling in the garden as he looked over every single vine and grape with pleasure. All of his hard work…

  “And this one’s for us.” Kevrin hoisted himself out of the hole.

  “For us?” Jahrys turned back to Kevrin after placing the first bottle into his bag.

  Kevrin was holding a second bottle. He took out the knife Riago had given him and popped the cork.

  “You first,” he handed the bottle to Jahrys.

  Jahrys hesitated. “Shouldn’t we be getting back to The Arcalane?”

  “I’m not traveling back out there until it gets lighter out. So we might as well enjoy ourselves. Besides…” Kevrin pushed the bottle closer to Jahrys’s face. “It’s your birthday! Your eighteenth birthday! And we need to celebrate.”

  Jahrys had forgotten. His mind had been too busy focusing on finding his father’s wine and on Lil—on the princess.

  “Damn, am I old…” Jahrys took off his helmet and set it down. He grabbed the bottle from Kevrin, sat down against the wall, and took a long pleasant swig.

  “Now that’s the spirit!” Kevrin laughed, taking his bag off his shoulder and sitting down next to Jahrys.

  The wine was hot, but the flavor was great. It was fruity and a little sour, but not too sour. Just enough to give the cheeks a little sting. It was refreshing. Jahrys had not tasted anything this good in a long time. No wonder people were obsessed over this wine. He could understand why the king wanted it.

  “You know I was saving my first taste of this wine for my father. He never let me try it because he was afraid mother would have a fit,” Jahrys mentioned as he passed the bottle to Kevrin. Kevrin unclipped his helmet and grabbed the bottle.

  “Well, I’m honored to be your father’s replacement for this moment. I’m sure he would have highly valued your opinion on his wine.” Kevrin tilted his head back and took a sip. He passed it to Jahrys. “You’re mother thought you weren’t drinking by the age of fifteen?” Kevrin shook his head in amazement.

  “Yep.”

  Kevrin chuckled.

  Jahrys laughed too as he took a sip. The wine brought back memories of Frayel. “Frayel would always talk up a storm about my father’s wine. He would always say how he was getting it for him and his loving Astonia,” Jahrys chuckled, taking another sip. “What a strange man. Who would’ve thought I would miss him.” He passed the bottle to Kevrin.

  “He would always talk about his loving Astonia,” Kevrin laughed and drank a few gulps from the bottle. “It’s a shame, really. He would have made a great Retriever.”

  Jahrys nodded in agreement, wondering if his loving Astonia was still alive.

  “Remember when we used to dream of being Knights of the Poolesguard?” Kevrin asked Jahrys as he hiccuped, passing the bottle back to Jahrys.

  “I think about it every day. I haven’t touched a sword in years.”

  “Maybe this is your shot.”

  Jahrys gave Kevrin a look of disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re about to barge into the castle to save a princess from her father! It sounds a lot like the tale of Palor A’kal when he saved Princess Melaine from her father. It will be a tale people will talk about for years to come. Just like all the tales about Palor A’kal, Galagar Poole, and all the true knights in the Poolesguard,” Kevrin said.

  Jahrys thought about that. Is this really my shot at becoming a knight?

  He took a sip from the bottle and said, “Knights are fearless, wise, and strong. I’m none of those.”

  “Knights are human. And all humans fear and have a weakness. It’s what we choose to do in those moments of fear and weakness that define us.”

  “Since when did you become so philosophical?” Jahrys teased.

  “In my spare time.” Kevrin snatched the bottle from Jahrys. “I think you would make a great knight.” Kevrin took a sip.

  Jahrys smiled at that.

  Kevrin and Jahrys sat against the wall, passing the bottle back and forth, until the bottle emptied and the walls started to spin around them.

  “You know, w-we are going to be m-more famous than Rallick after this. All f-for a bottle of wine. Why’s this happening for just a bottle of wine?” Jahrys was slurring his words now. “W-why would that old hag pick me over anyone else? We haven’ done anyfin’ Kev, ha!”

  “Who—” Kevrin hiccuped, “who knows Jahr. Maybe she saw s-something in you. And—you know th-there is a shortage of w-wine these days. Willem can’ even—can’ even get wine in his own bar.”

  “A king needs wine. Ha!” Jahrys let out a burp, “he mus’ be under—too much stress—ruling this fallen hole of a kingdom.” He took another drink. “Look at this place, Kev. I mean, look at it. By Zalus. N-now if Princess Alana were here. That would be a s-sight. She was beautiful, Kev.”

  “Yea? I bet she w-was a good kisser. She must have had lots of practice with all them lordlin’ boys. I bet—I bet she’s had her fair share of experience by now,” Kevrin said jokingly and hiccupping.

  Jahrys got defensive. “She’s not like that! I honestly d-don’ think she even kissed a guy before—before me. She was nervous. It was the best n-night of my life.”

  “Well—don’t flatter yourself,” Kevrin rolled his drunken eyes. “Was she—was she better than Ebanie?”

  “A million and five times better than—than Ebanie.”

  “Wooo!” Kevrin sank into the wall.

  “Am I ever going to fi—to find her?” Jahrys’s head fell to the side and landed on Kevrin’s shoulder.

  Kevrin laughed, putting his arm around his friend.

  “Yes—you’ll find her. If it was meant to be…you will find her.”

&nb
sp; Jahrys’s eyes started to feel heavy as they slowly drooped down. He tried to resist a few times, but eventually the wine sent his world spinning into darkness.

  Chapter 22

  Piller

  A GIANT PAINTING hung on the wall of King Leoné’s chamber. It showed Leoné, standing tall, proud, and confident with his family. Queen Asha was smiling next to him, her white teeth glistening. Her blue eyes were striking against her pink skin and blonde hair. Princess Alana was a little girl in the painting. She had her father’s brown hair, which fell down to her shoulders, and her blue eyes matched perfectly with her mother’s. She had a smile as big as the Western Mountains. Her parents both had a loving hand on Alana’s tiny shoulders.

  Times were simpler back then, before the stormy season, before The Sickness, before the Hoarding, thought Piller, as he admired the painting and happiness of the once complete family. Before all this chaos.

  Arnold and Hollow waited anxiously on either side of Piller as they waited for Leoné to enter. It was early morning, and they had come to give Leoné their weekly report.

  Leoné appeared from his bedchamber, grumbling to himself as he struggled with a crumpled up sleeve on his green tunic. He walked over to a large desk. He realized the sleeve was a lost cause and gave up. He looked up and gave the knights a faulty smile.

  “Piller, Hollow, Arnold,” he nodded to each of them in turn.

  “Your Grace,” the three knights said as they took a knee and rose back up.

  “Before I hear the report, I wanted to thank the three of you for your hard work. I know times have been difficult and the circumstances unreasonable, but you three have managed to get your work done. The construction of the Retrieval Stations have been very beneficial to Astenpoole and the Retrievers. We have suficient communication with the survivors and things are running smoothly because of you three. Astenpoole is forever in your debt.”

  Leoné turned to Hollow and Arnold. “I know you boys are still young and these are hard times, but I honor the hard work you boys have put in. Keep up the good work! I expect a bright future for the both of you.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” the two young knights said in unison.