9
The Guild Strikes!
Bronson finds a hideout. Cindy and Bronson return to school. Sister Francine. The good guys get cornered in the magic shop.
Bronson stopped and sat on his trunk for a few minutes to catch his breath. He’d been lugging it around with him all day while he looked for somewhere to sleep. Every time he thought he’d found a safe place to set up shop somebody would show up and tell him to beat it or he’d see a cop and get nervous. It was almost time for him to be at work, and if there was anything he needed if he was going to make it on the streets it was money. From taking the trash out every day at the end of his shift he knew that there was a relatively private alleyway behind The Old Curiosity Shop where he could stash his trunk until his shift was over.
When he reached the alley he took a quick look around and pulled the trunk back. There was a large green dumpster that would hide it from the street until he was done. He pulled the trunk around and pushed it behind the dumpster. A few rats scurried out. He hoped they’d leave it alone since he had some packs of crackers in it. Could rats chew through a trunk like this?
He noticed the wall was missing some bricks. The hole was big enough that the trunk would fit in it or at least it would if he knocked a couple more out. He wiggled behind the dumpster and leaned down to look inside. To his surprise there was a large opening through the hole, at least as big as his room back at Uncle Randolph’s place. Lying right inside were the bricks that were missing from the wall. There was a large metal pipe that ran low down the center of the room but as long as he was careful he didn’t think it would be a problem.
It was perfect. He could stack the bricks, or at least most of them, back up. Nobody would notice it unless they were nosy anyway. And work was right next door. He knocked a few more bricks loose and shoved his trunk inside. He stacked the bricks until they covered about two-thirds of the opening. Satisfied, he headed off to another day at work.
Cindy was late to school that day. There wasn’t another student or teacher to be seen. She was hoping she could grab her books from her locker and make it down to the AV room without anybody catching her. She closed her locker and turned around to see Principal Kane standing there shaking his head.
“Gosh, I’m sorry, sir,” she said, “it wasn’t my fault. There was this creepy looking guy and I had to take a different way and—”
“Ms. McNeil,” Principal Kane said, “I couldn’t care less about your tardiness. Your mother let us know about your disappearance. Frankly I’m surprised to see you back at all today. I’d actually like to have a word with you about a different matter.”
Cindy relaxed. “Sure, sir. No problem. By the way, is that a new suit?”
“Where is Bronson Black?”
Cindy shrugged. “In class, I guess. What, am I his mother?”
“Ms. McNeil, both you and Bronson went missing two days ago. Not just any two days but the same two days. It doesn’t take an investigative reporter to put two and two together. You two have hit it off and decided to skip together. There is a time and a place for young love, but—”
“Let me stop you right there. I haven’t seen Bronson around for a couple days. I stayed at a friend’s house for a couple of days. That’s it.”
“So you have no idea where Bronson is?”
“Oh. He’s right there, sir,” Cindy said as she pointed down the hall behind him. Principal Kane turned around. “Ya’ big palooka,” she whispered under her breath. Principal Kane turned back around.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing, sir,” Cindy said. “Glad we found him.”
Bronson walked over. “Sorry I was out yesterday, Principal Kane. I was feeling pretty rotten and ended up falling asleep on the bus.”
Principal Kane didn’t look impressed with the excuse. “Well don’t let it happen again, Mr. Black. Now both of you get to class.”
Bronson sighed and started walking down the hall. Cindy joined him.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Not really. You see, my uncle kind of—”
“Oh, that’s cute,” she said as she skipped ahead of him. “You thought that I cared.”
Bronson caught up with her and they walked along for a few minutes.
“So, how’s that whole thing with the pollution going?” he asked.
“The mayor’s office was weird. I did get to talk to the mayor before they kicked me out. I met this kid from the West Side though. He seems like he might have some good info for me. Nothing I can talk about until I get confirmation from the mayor’s office but I figure I should probably lay low for a little before I barge in there again.”
Bronson stopped and looked at Cindy. “Aw, they don’t know an honest-to-God reporter when they see one,” he said.
Cindy smiled at Bronson. He was pretty nice, for a twerp. Especially with how mean she was to him. But then she thought maybe he was making fun of her.
“Ya’ know what?” she said, “I don’t need a pep talk from a little squirt like you. See ya.”
She turned down a hallway and left Bronson staring after her. He didn’t know quite how to read her. Sometimes she was nice. Sometimes she stood up for him. Sometimes she picked on him. But overall she was the best friend he had right now. Well, except for Mr. Horum.
Later on in the magic shop Bronson stocked some shelves while Mr. Horum sat on his stool flipping through a catalog.
“Bronson,” Mr. Horum said, “why you work here?”
“I needed a job and you were willing to give me one?” Bronson asked, a little unsure if it was the right answer. The old guy was taken to cryptic questions he already knew the answer to.
Mr. Horum walked over to Bronson and helped stock some tricks.
“What your job then?” he asked.
Bronson pulled three metal rings out of the box and tried to put them together. “I dunno. Helping and stuff,” he said. He lost control of one of the rings and it clanged to the floor. Mr. Horum leaned over to pick it up, grunting as he did.
“Job is a—what you say? Trilogy? Trinity? Job is three parts.” Mr. Horum took the other rings from Bronson and held one up. “First part is people. There are kinds of people. Clowns. Doctors. Bums even. They all important to us. We take care of them.”
Bronson thought about his uncle. “But what if they’re bad people?” he asked.
“Then we no let them do bad when they are here. But still we care. Show them tricks. Carry bags. We make them happy, hmmb?” Mr. Horum waved the second ring through the air. “Second part friendship. We work at same place. I’m your boss, but we still are friends. I show you new tricks; you show me some. We cover each other.”
Mr. Horum leaned down and looked Bronson in the eyes. It seemed like he was looking for something, and then he found it and stood back up. “Right, second part no problem.” He held up the last ring. “Third part respect. We no make excuse here. If you make mistake, you tell me and you learn. I teach you. You respect…” Mr. Horum linked the ring to the first one he’d held up. “Friends…” Mr. Horum linked the other ring to the third ring, “and job stay together. You no do this.”
Mr. Horum shook the center ring and the other two other rings crashed at Bronson’s feet. “The whole thing fall apart, you betcha.” Mr. Horum handed Bronson the ring that was left. Bronson picked up the other two rings from the floor. He’d seen how Horum did the trick and copied it.
“Well then,” Bronson said, “we’ll keep them together.”
The door opened and three boys around Bronson’s age walked into the shop.
One of the boys walked over to Bronson.
“Ain’t you the new kid at school?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Bronson said.
“You work here?” another boy asked.
“Yeah,” Bronson said.
“Pretty cool job. Well, see you around.” The boys joined their friend to dig through the discount novelty bin. One of them pulled out a joy buzzer half-hanging out of a busted blister pack.
“I think this one’s broke,” the kid said.
Mr. Horum looked up from counting the day’s deposit.
“Bring here please,” Mr. Horum said.
The kid laid the joy buzzer in front of Mr. Horum. He picked it up and pulled it out of the packaging. He twisted it around a few times then pressed the button. It BUZZED in his hand.
“Hey, still work. You want? Only quarter.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” the kids said. “We were actually leaving. Come on, guys.”
The boys exited the shop. Mr. Horum turned the buzzer around in his hand for a moment.
“Hey, no need to waste toy. You want it?”
Bronson walked over and took the buzzer. He looked at it, pressed the button, and felt the buzz then shrugged.
“Sure,” Bronson said. “Could you hand me my bag from back there on top of that box?”
Mr. Horum grunted as he leaned down and grabbed the bag. He handed it to Bronson. Bronson sat it on the floor and unzipped it. The first thing he saw when he opened it up was his Dogboy mask. He shoved the buzzer in the bag.
“You stealing that? I thought you seemed a little suspicious,” said a female voice behind him.
Bronson turned around. Cindy stood behind him. She was holding a blond wig and a stage makeup kit.
“No. Of course not,” Bronson said. “I work here. What’s all that stuff for?”
Cindy grabbed a friction pen from a cup on the shelf next to her.
“Oh, nothing. Just doing some undercover work, you know. Reporter stuff.”
Bronson threw his bag behind the counter then grabbed a plastic bag from a display on the front counter.
“Here, these might help.” He handed her the bag. There were four foam earplugs in it. They were black and had a raised ring around the center.
“Just tear one in half and shove the one piece in each of your nostrils. It spreads out your nose. Makes your face look all different.”
Cindy tucked the earplugs between the other purchases in her arms.
“Thanks, kid,” she said. “Say, you have any of those glasses that make your eyes look all huge like an owl?”
“I think so. Let’s look.” Bronson led her to the far end of the store near the public restroom. There was a spinner rack filled with specialty spectacles. There were ones that lit up and ones with blacked out lenses and even a monocle or two.
Bronson picked up a pair with round lenses and handed them to Cindy.
“Here. These should do the—”
The bell at the front of the store rang, and a strange woman came through the door while she waved a gun in the air.
“Alright, you. Old freak behind the counter. Your gonna give me that money there.”
Mr. Horum put his hands up in the air.
“You take it. Take whatever. I no care.”
Bronson pulled Cindy down behind some shelves. He pointed to the bathroom door.
Cindy nodded and crawled toward the door. Bronson crawled in the other direction and moved toward the counter.
“I got this eye right here on you, friend,” said the thief. “No funny stuff.” She shoved the gun in front of Mr. Horum’s face. Mr. Horum placed a stack of bills in a small bank bag then calmly used the free hand to push the gun away from his face.
“I do what you say, you betcha,” Mr. Horum said. “Why be rude?”
Cindy made it through the bathroom door. The hinge creaked as it closed completely. Bronson jumped up with his hands raised.
“Don’t shoot. I’m just hanging out back here,” he said.
The thief gestured toward the counter.
“Get up here with the old man.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bronson ran over to Mr. Horum’s side.
“Let me ask you question while I give you Horum’s money,” Mr. Horum said to the thief. “You know Horum. You know job at least. We should know you too.”
“So what?” she asked. “You want my name?”
“You betcha. It help build trust, yeah?”
“Francine, and I’m gonna call you Mac and the kid Junior. Now let’s fill up the bag, Mac.”
Mr. Horum shoved the pile of bills into the bag. He zipped it up and handed it over to Francine. Francine unzipped it and flipped through the bills. A few fell out onto the floor and she leaned over to pick them up.
“What the blooming blazes is this?” she said. She held up Dogboy’s mask. “Where did you get this?”
“You know this?” Mr. Horum asked Bronson.
“Never seen it before,” Bronson said.
“Don’t lie to a liar,” Francine said. “This thing looks just like how old bucket head described that dog brat. Oh, old Francine is going to be eating steak with the boss man tonight, Mac. Now, seriously. Be completely serious. Some kid came in here and left this, right? Who’s the kid, Mac? Junior over there?”
Bronson’s ears buzzed and his breath became something he had to concentrate on.
“I told you. I said I’ve never seen it,” Bronson said.
Francine tossed the mask on the floor.
“Don’t lie to a liar, Junior. We ain’t leaving here until we figure it out.” Francine backed up to the front door and locked it then gestured toward the back room with her gun. “Let’s take this away from the window. Never know who’s gonna walk by.”
Mr. Horum and Bronson walked into the back room. Francine followed them and shut the door behind them. A moment later the bathroom door creaked open and Cindy crawled out. She peeked out from behind the shelves. Satisfied she was alone she stood up. She crept behind the counter and picked up the phone. She dialed 9-1-1 and after a few seconds there was a click on the line.
“911, please state your emergency,” said an operator’s voice.
“Robbery. Old Curiosity Shop on South 4th Street. She’s still here. I gotta go.” Cindy hung up the phone. Hope they got that okay, she thought. She certainly didn’t want to be as close as she was to the gal with the gun so she decided to get outside and figure out if there was any way she could help Bronson and the old guy.
Cindy unlocked the door and opened it. The bell rang. She ran through it and raced down the street.
“What was that?” asked Francine.
“Somebody opened the front door,” said Bronson. He was sitting on the floor underneath the window. His hands were tied with some fishing line Francine had found in the back. Mr. Horum was in a chair next to him with his hands and feet bound.
“Shoot. Guess I gotta go check it out. You fellas better start figuring out how that mask got in here while I’m gone. See this gun? It’s kinda my buddy. We work real well together. If I’m gonna use it on ya’ it’s gonna do what I want. Got me?”
Bronson and Mr. Horum nodded. Francine opened the door and went out into the shop.
“Psst,” came a voice from the window. Bronson looked up and saw Cindy dangling a small plastic bottle over his head.
“Get out of here, will ya?” Bronson said.
“You know this girl?” Mr. Horum asked.
“Yeah, she’s a girl from school. She’s the one who set off the bell.”
“I also called the cops, thank you very much,” Cindy said, “and I got this out of the makeup kit for you. It’s astringent. It’s not gonna kill her or anything but if you throw it in her eyes it’ll burn like crazy.” Cindy dropped the bottle and Bronson lifted his bound hands and caught it.
“Thanks,” Bronson said, “now get out of here. No sense in you being in danger too. She’ll be back any second.”
“Aw, new kid, I didn’t know you cared.” Cindy disappeared from the window.
“You got girlfriend, boy-o?” Mr. Horum said.
“Yeah right,” Bronson replied.
Francine walked back in and closed the door behind her. Bronson cupped his hands around the bottle.
“Door was open, nobody out there though. Almost like somebody was in here and snuck out when I was dealing with you two. Admit it. We’re all friends here. We know each other’s names. It was that dog brat, wasn’t it?”
“Dog brat?” Mr. Horum said, “Horum don’t know any dog brat. We no want any problems. Take money. Take stuff. Who care, right? We don’t know about guy you looking for. Kids come in just before you get here but none of them dog. Just let us go and be safe now, hmmb? Store is yours. No problem.”
Francine knelt down in front of Bronson. She laid the gun on the floor next to her and grabbed Bronson’s collar.
“No. Mac don’t know. But I bet Junior does. You got a taste for Alpo, little dude? See, I got this idea now that the mask just might’a been—Agh!”
The astringent hit Francine in the eyes. She grabbed her face and fell over on her side. Bronson kicked the gun across the room. He pressed his back against the wall and wiggled up onto his feet.
“Good boy,” Mr. Horum said. “You get prize for that. Anything in store.”
Bronson worked the fishing line against the corner of the window sill until it split. He shook it off his wrist. He ran over to Mr. Horum and got his limbs free.
“We should leave until the police come, right?” Bronson asked.
“You betcha,” Mr. Horum said. “You okay, right?”
“You betcha, Mr. Horum. Let’s go outside.”
Mr. Horum stood up and opened the door for Bronson to walk though.
“Hold on,” Bronson said, “I gotta grab my bag.”
Bronson grabbed his bag from behind the counter then went around to the front and grabbed his mask. He shoved it in his bag then went out front to wait on the police.
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