Chapter Five
Strange Strangers in the Basement

                             

ARREN’S RUNNING SHOES were starting to fall apart. The “experts” said to buy new ones every six to eight months, but Warren was pretty sure that was just a marketing ploy to sell more shoes. There was, after all, still air in the see-through air cushions. And he wore double-thick socks for extra cushioning. Nope, the shoes were good for another thousand miles, at least.
     “See, this whole idea of runnin’ in circles so you end up where you started,” Leo said, watching Warren pull the laces taut and then tie them, “it makes no sense.” Warren was about to defend the idea of exercise when Leo said something very peculiar. Startling even. He said, “I’d rather just stay here and do some homework.”
     That certainly caught Warren by surprise. And, while Leo settled in on the couch and opened a textbook, Warren felt a bit of satisfaction and even smiled a little, careful that Leo didn’t see him do so, and then he headed out for his run.
     As soon as the front door clicked shut and his teacher was gone, Leo tossed the book aside, pushed himself up off the couch and padded into the bedroom, where he found Warren’s brown leather wallet on the dresser beside a splay of loose change and a ring of keys. No high security here. Inside the wallet, there were several tens, a few twenties, enough that a ten spot wouldn’t be missed. He plucked a bill out, shoved it in his pocket and replaced the wallet. Then, on the off chance his teacher might keep a larger stash of money hidden away, he slid open a dresser drawer. Then…
     Thud!
     He froze.
     A noise. Somewhere in the house. He cocked his head like a dog listening to a siren.
     Thud!
     Down. Under the house.
     Then… someone’s voice. But not Warren’s. No, it definitely wasn’t Warren’s. Quickly, he slid the dresser drawer closed and tiptoed out of the bedroom to the living room, where he stopped, looking this way and that. Listening, listening. Then…
     Crash!
     From beneath the house! Definitely!
     He moved cautiously down the hall, into the kitchen, where a door opened to a dark shaft of wooden stairs that led down to a darker basement. Leo stood at the door, considering, still listening. It was quiet. Whoever it was had heard him. He stepped back, grabbed the toaster from beside the sink and yanked its cord from the wall. It would do for a weapon.  
     He took a deep breath and flipped the switch at the top of the stairs as light shot up from the basement. He raised the toaster over his head—cocked, ready to hurl it at any moment—and slowly he edged down the stairway, his jaw tightening with each step, anticipating the mousy squeak of the wooden stairs. When he stepped onto the cold concrete of the basement floor, he looked around and found, well… nothing. The toaster, still suspended over his head, dropped annoying crumbs of toast onto his hair. He moved to a stack of file folder boxes and peered around them. Nothing. Dust bunnies. He looked behind a dust-covered stereo, behind a battered old barbeque grill, tilted to one side due to a missing wheel. Still nothing.
     He lowered the toaster. Listened for another moment. Waited. Silence. Finally, he turned and started back up the steps— 
     “Ach-fooof!”
     He froze, stock-still.
     Was that a sneeze?
     Then a small angry whisper: “Ya doesn’t never covers your mouth, ya drobbs horkel!”
     Another voice: “Drobbs horkel? Why doesn’t we covers yer stinkin’ head!”
     Then an “Ooooff!”
     Then: “Shoves we, will ya?”
     Then another “Ooooff!”
     Leo raised the toaster again and moved to the edge of an old filing cabinet where he hadn’t looked. Cautiously, he leaned around the side of it. When he did, he saw two small… what? People? Creatures? They were clutching each other’s throats and trying to kick each other. They did not, however, notice Leo—peering at them from around the filing cabinet with a toaster over his head. Leo stood there, stupidly, waiting for them to notice him, until finally he cleared his throat. The little men then froze like short statues, their hands still clutching at each other’s throats, their heads rigid, their eyes darting back and forth.
     “Who are you?” Leo asked.
     At the sound of his voice, the creatures screamed and began to scramble for a place to hide—their screams, by the way, sounding vaguely little girlish, yet horrifically more high-pitched. Leo dropped the toaster and grabbed his ears. “Stop it! Stop it!” he howled. And, when finally they stopped, he cautiously removed his hands from his ears and asked again, “Who are you?” 
     The little men exchanged looks and then straightened themselves as though about to make a formal presentation. That’s when Leo first noticed their hands, that each had only three digits: two fingers and a thumb. The younger of the two spoke stiffly, as if Leo were mentally impaired. “I… is Kyle,” he said, and then nodded toward the older one. “Him der… is Morton.”
     Leo looked down again at their hands. “So… what exactly are you?”
     The two little men exchanged another look before the younger one, Kyle, turned back to the boy and spoke even more slowly and more loudly. “I… is Kyyyle. Dat is Mooooorton.”
     “No, I mean—”
     “An’ if your plans is to kill and eats we…” Kyle continued, jabbing a thumb in his partner’s direction, “ya starts with him der, eh?”
     “I’m not gonna eat you,” Leo assured them.
     The younger creature leaned toward the other and whispered, “Is lying him.”
     Leo, of course, heard him. “I’m not lying. Why would I eat you?”
     “Why wouldn’ts ya?”
     “I’ve never eaten anybody in my life.”
     “Maybe you is true…” ventured Kyle. “Or maybe ya just hasn’t been ‘nuff hungry.”
     “You’re not friends of Warren’s, are you?” Leo asked, though he was pretty sure they weren’t.
     “Warren?” the older one said.
     “Warren Worst. Mr. Worst. This is his house. He’s a schoolteacher.”
     “Uch to dat!” Kyle said, scrunching his nose like someone had just passed gas.
     “Dat Warren, he gots food, huh?” Morton asked hopefully.
     “Food? Sure.”
     “Good. We needs food. We hasn’t done no eatin’ since dat noodge.”
     “Noodge?”
     “Yeah sure, dat big noodge. Coupla days back ago.”
     “You mean the earthquake?”
     “Sure yeah, dat ert-quack, sure.”
     “Look, you want food, right?”
     “Food, yeah sure. An’ beer. Ya gots beer, right?”
     “I don’t know.”
     “An’ doesn’t yas forget dat chips. Yas got chips, eh?”
     “I’ll check. Anything else you guys want?” Leo was getting a little irritated at the demanding nature of these two.
     “Nah to dat.” Then, “Ach, we needs a car.”
     “A car?”
     “A car…” the one with the beard said slowly, “... is ta moves we along inna—“
     “I know what a car is,” Leo interrupted. “But I can’t get you one.”
     “How not?”
     “’Cause I’m a kid.”
     “Don’t matter to we,” said Kyle.
     “No, you don’t understand. I’m eleven.” They stared blankly at him. “I can’t do that.”
     “Nah, dat understandin’ yas isn’t does too good. We gives ya not a choice.”
     Leo almost laughed. “So, wait… you’re threatening me?”
     “Sure yeah to dat,” Morton said, pushing out his tiny chest.
     Quickly the younger one interjected. “Nope, we doesn’t.”
     “Whah?” Morton said, turning to his partner. “Sure we does.”
     “Nah we doesn’t,” Kyle insisted, giving his partner something of a shut-up-you-idiot look before he turned back to the boy. “See, we knows where is buried dat what’s worth mucha plenty. An’ we needs dat car for yas to be gettin’ we der.”
      “Worth much?” Leo was cautiously interested. “What is it?”
      “More a much than yas ever spent eyes on.”
      “What do you mean? Like a treasure or something?”
      The two small creatures exchanged another look before the older one turned back to Leo. “Yup yeah, a treasure.”
     “Uh-huh. What type of treasure?” Leo narrowed his gaze skeptically.
     “Diamonds,” said Kyle quickly, before Morton could speak. “We knows where der’s diamonds. Big giant diamonds. Buried inna ground, inna big park ya gots is near here.”
     “Right. So… Golden Gate Park? And you two know about these diamonds, how?”
     “We puts dem der. Long time back from now,” Kyle offered.
     “You stole them?”
     Both creatures drew back as though shocked and offended—or they were pretending to be shocked and offended. “Nah, nah to dat. We doesn’t steal,” the older one said, while his partner shook his head vehemently in agreement.
     Leo could not tell if they were lying, but he was a kid who was, as you know, open to possibilities. He figured, even if what the creatures were saying wasn’t entirely true, maybe some of it was. If, for instance, the part about diamonds being in the park was true, even a small amount of diamonds, well, it might be worth his time just to, you know, check it out. Stolen or not. “Okay, look…” he said, “if I help you, I get a cut.”
     Kyle rubbed his chin, a little confused. “We can does it, sure. We has weapons. But how is yas wantin’ ta be cut?”
     “No, no. I don’t want to be cut. I want a cut. We split the take. Say… twenty-eighty?” Leo watched their faces as the two of them mulled it over. “More than fair,” he added.
     The younger creature scratched his ear and then he shook his head. “Nah. Is doesn’t sound no good to we. Twenty-eighty. Nah to dat.”
     “Then I’m not helping you.”
     “Oh, yas’ll be helping we. Otherwise we has ta do hurtin’ on yas.” Kyle planted his feet firmly on the floor as though readying himself for a fight.
     “You’re gonna hurt me?” Leo stifled a laugh. “You barely come up to my knees.” As soon as he said it though, he winced in pain, and grabbed his forehead. “Ow!”
     “See der,” Kyle said with puffy pride.
     “My head hurts,” the boy said, rubbing above his eyebrows.
     “We makes dat pain.”
     “No, I just got a headache.”
     “Ah, but we was givin’ it to yas.”
     “Yeah,” said the other one, “an’ ders plenty more a what’s dat from.”
     “Like what?” The pain in his head lessened slightly. 
     “Like… okay, see, der’s dis,” the little man with the beard said, and then appeared to be concentrating very hard. After a moment, he jumped into the air, but only about an inch or so. Clearly he was not able to do whatever it was he was trying to do. “Ach, murk fuddle!”
     “I can does it,” Kyle said.
     This seemed to irritate the older creature. “Is can does it here!” he shot back. And then concentrated even harder than he had before.
     Leo’s headache was all but gone as he watched the little man. “So, what exactly are you trying to do?”
     Morton suddenly let out a burst of air, and shot Leo an icy stare, as though the boy had screamed in church. Morton turned to Kyle. “We doesn’t can works with ’im crackin’ the rackets as such!”
     “I didn’t know I was supposed to be quiet,” Leo said.
     “Ya thinks it does easy?”
     “Wull, what exactly were you trying to do?”
     “Yas’ll see,” Morton snipped.
     “An’ nots ta forget, we makes ya dat pretty good headache too, eh!” Kyle added.
     “Okay, look,“ Leo said, feeling now like he was getting an upper hand, “if I help you out, I want a fair cut. And that’s final.” 
     “Nah to dat! Ya doesn’t gonna takes eighty percent!” the older one said defiantly. ”We gives ya seventy! An’ if ya doesn’t like dat, yas can go eat a stump!”
     Well, Leo certainly didn’t expect that. Seventy percent? Not wanting to belie his astonishment, however, he frowned momentarily as though a little disappointed with the deal, all the while realizing, and delighted to realize, that these two weren’t the brightest of bulbs and that this could be an altogether excellent partnership. Finally he extended his hand to the one without the beard. The little creature looked dubiously at the giant appendage with so many digits and then reached out to grasp it.
     The deal was sealed.  

                                                   * * *

     Grampa closed the notebook, closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow to take a little rest, expecting, apparently, that the children would simply get up and quietly leave.
     But they did not. They only sat there.
     Waiting.
     And, when, a few minutes later, he opened his eyes, there they were. Sitting.
     “Are you rested now, Grampa?” This was Francie, sitting very properly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
     It was clear that Henry, Joe and Francie now had different feelings about the story. Joe was anxious to learn more about the diamonds, figuring it might explain how Grampa ended up with so much money. Henry had decided he liked Leo, related to him, and, frankly, kind of wished he himself could live in a house without any adults. And Francie—well, she loved the little creatures. She wanted to hug them, to take them for a walk, to keep them in her room and dress them up.
     Grampa grunted, mumbled something about how he should be able to do whatever he wanted, like sleep, since he was on his own deathbed.  But then started, nonetheless, to tell the children about how Warren met the creatures. 

CHAPTERS TO COME...

Making a Break for It
Hibb Hoiden Hill (Strawberry Hill)
The Crystal
It's Just Not Right
To Drobbs Mubble (Fresno)

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Copyright © 2009 by Russ Woody

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