In the Land of the Lawn Weenies (6 page)

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Authors: David Lubar

BOOK: In the Land of the Lawn Weenies
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M
y friend Stu is scared of just about everything. He's almost a year younger than me. I guess that makes a difference, because he's always saying “Watch out for this,” or “Look out for that.” He's especially scared of the Big Kids. He'll say, “Don't go in there, Danny, the Big Kids will get you,” or, “We'd better leave before some Big Kids come.”
I don't see what the problem is—I'll bet I could outrun any Big Kid. I could probably outfight most of them, too. Not that I want to find out …
We'd been swimming in the quarry that day. Actually,
I'd
been swimming. Stu was too chicken to go into the water. He was afraid he'd get a cramp and drown, or that some girls would come along and see him in his underwear. So I was
swimming and Stu was sitting. That's when I got the idea. “Hey, Stu,” I said, treading water.
“Yeah?” He glanced up from the stick he was peeling.
“It's too hot here. Let's go to the caves.”
He stared at me like I had suggested we jump off a bridge. “No way. There might be Big Kids there.”
“Come on, nobody goes there. It'll be great.”
Stu shook his head. I got out of the water and climbed up the steep bank. In a few minutes, the hot sun had dried me better than any towel could. “Come on, the caves.”
“Not.”
“Come on. Are you chicken? Let's go.”
Stu shook his head. “I don't want to.”
I put on my jeans and shirt. “I'm going. You do what you want.” I'd learned that trick from my parents. I started walking. In a few seconds, I heard Stu running to catch up.
“But what if there are—”
“No problem. I'll deal with anything that comes up.” After all this talk, I was almost hoping to run into some Big Kids. I'd show Stu there was nothing to worry about.
Stu jabbered a bit more on the way to the caves, but I didn't pay much attention. He hung back when I reached the entrance. I went ahead without waiting for him. It got dark pretty quickly, but there were enough cracks and openings that the passageways never got completely black. I figured Stu would catch up with me in a minute. I went a few feet farther, then stopped, expecting to hear
Stu chugging up behind me. Instead, I heard a shout.
“Ow!”
I ran back to the entrance. Wouldn't you know that bad stuff always happens to whoever expects it to happen? I think if you're afraid enough of something and worry enough, it almost has to happen. So there was Stu, caught by the one thing he feared the most. Yup, the Big Kids had him. They formed a ring around Stu and were pushing him back and forth, like a game of human hot potato. His face was pretty much frozen with terror and red enough to use for a stop sign.
I figured I could wait and see how bad it got, or I could rush in now and try to help him. So far, they were just pushing. There was a good chance they'd get bored with Stu and leave him in a minute or two.
I'd forgotten that Big Kids can get really cruel when they're bored.
One of them hit Stu a hard shot to the stomach. “Ooff,” Stu grunted. He doubled over and staggered back, crashing into the Big Kid who was closest to the mouth of the cave.
I was moving before I even realized what was happening.
As the Big Kid stumbled from the impact, I stuck my foot out behind him. He went over backward. I reached out, grabbed Stu by the arm, and yanked.
“Huh?” he cried out.
“Shut up and run.” I pushed Stu ahead of me.
The surprise was worth a few seconds' head start. There was a good chance we could escape.
“Get them!” one of the Big Kids shouted from behind us.
Stu was whimpering, but he kept up his speed. I herded him, taking the familiar turns. I really knew the caves as well as anyone.
At least, I thought I did.
After a while, the sound of the Big Kids' footsteps faded. We'd escaped. At worst, they'd be waiting at the mouth of the cave. But they wouldn't stay there forever. They'd get tired of waiting, and they'd leave.
“Thanks,” Stu said quietly when we stopped running.
“Anytime.”
“I told you the Big Kids would get us.”
I nodded. But there were more important worries to distract me. I was pretty sure I knew the way out, but the chamber around us didn't seem familiar. I started tracing the way back, trying to remember the path we'd taken.
“You sure this is how we came?” Stu asked.
“I don't know.” I didn't recognize the shaft we were in. It led up at a slight angle, but it kept getting narrower. The ceiling was so low, I was almost crawling.
“This can't be right,” Stu said.
“Yeah. Maybe we should turn back.” I looked ahead. “Hang on—I think it gets wider.” Sure enough, a bit farther along the shaft got bigger. Then it opened into a large chamber.
And there were Big Kids there.
Different Big Kids.
I didn't see them at first. I climbed up on a boulder that was near the opening. It was warm. It moved. It wasn't a boulder. It was a toe. A big toe …
Stu made a gurgling sound as he stared at the huge foot. To be fair, I wasn't saying much either. In fact, I'm sure any bat in the cave would have had no trouble flying into my open mouth at that moment.
“Hi,” one of the Big Kids said. His voice rumbled through the chamber. I looked up. Trickles of light filtered in from cracks in one of the side walls, but the speaker's head was lost in the darkness far above me.
“Uh … hi,” I said.
“Whatcha doing?” another voice asked.
“We were running from some Big … uh, from some bullies,” I told him.
“I hate bullies,” the first Big Kid said.
“Me, too,” another agreed.
“So do I.”
I was surprised by this last voice. It was Stu. I guess once you face your worst fears, you can either crumple up or you can deal with things. To my surprise, Stu seemed to be dealing with the situation. “If you tell me how to get out of here,” he said, “I'll bring some tiny little bullies for you to play with. Okay?”
“Deal,” one of the Big Kids said. A huge hand descended from the darkness and reached out to seal the bargain with a shake. Stu held out his
own insignificant, microscopic hand and grasped the Big Kid's fingertip.
“Go straight back until you reach the wall,” the Big Kid said. “Then keep making lefts. You can't miss the exit.”
“Thanks.” Stu headed out.
I started to follow him, but he turned and said, “Stay here. This is for me to do.”
He went off, walking tall, then ducked into the tunnel and disappeared. I stayed and made small talk with the Big Kids. I wasn't sure what they were like, and I didn't want to say anything that might upset them, so I let them do most of the talking. In a while, I heard the sounds of a mob heading this way. Stu came racing in, panting and puffing but looking pretty happy to be in the lead.
“Get the little weasel!” someone behind him shouted.
“Smash him!”
“Pound him to bits!”
They came tearing in after Stu, popping one by one through the narrow opening like marbles spilling out of a bottle.
Hands swept down and grabbed the bullies the way I'd grab a root beer from the cooler in the corner store. The hands rose again, with tiny arms and legs dangling at all angles, kicking and twitching and flailing. There were some shouts and a lot of whimpers.
“Thanks, guys,” Stu said as we walked to the exit of the chamber.
“Our pleasure,” a Big Kid said. He rattled a
bully in his fist like a can of spray paint that needed mixing. “Thanks for the toys. Come see us again.”
“We sure will,” Stu said. He led us out.
 
“What do you feel like doing?” I asked as we walked away from the mouth of the cave. It was still early.
“I don't know,” Stu said.
“How about the dump?” I suggested.
Stu's face creased with a frown. “But there might be …” He stopped, and the frown faded. Then he smiled. “Sure,” he said. “Let's go.”
 
 
I
t's over. The nightmare is over. Just in time. I couldn't run much farther. I could hardly breathe. Larry looked even worse. But we didn't have to run. I'd saved us. My idea worked. I could stand here now and catch my breath and wonder how things had gotten so quickly out of hand.
I probably shouldn't have been hanging out with Larry in the first place. He can be a really big jerk. But I'm not too good at making friends, so I didn't have a lot of choices. I usually ended up spending my free time with Larry. Mostly, I didn't get involved when he was being a jerk. I didn't try to stop him, but I didn't take part.
But the Clayton kid blamed both of us. It was all Larry's doing. That didn't matter. We both got blamed.
I don't know where Larry got the phrase—probably from some movie. That's how it started with the Clayton kid. What was his name? Ricky. That was it—Ricky Clayton. He's this real quiet kid who doesn't ever bother anyone or do anything much at all. Even so, there's something spooky about him.
But mostly I guess he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was walking down the street toward Larry when Larry was in that mean mood of his.
“Hey, what are you looking at?” Larry said as the kid got close to him.
“Nothing,” the kid mumbled. I guess he didn't realize what a dangerous answer that was.
“Nothing? You calling me nothing?” That's when Larry grabbed the kid by the shirt. Larry really liked to do that. He'd grab a handful of cloth and buttons, right below the neck, and then twist his fist. I think he'd gotten that from a movie, too.
“Come on, leave me alone.” The kid squirmed a bit but didn't try to break loose.
“You know what I am?” Larry asked him. I could tell he was getting ready to use the phrase.
The kid shook his head.
“You know what I am?”
Larry yelled, putting his face right up close so his nose was almost in the kid's eye.
“No …”
“I'm your worst nightmare.” Larry gave the kid a push.
The kid stumbled backward and fell down hard
on his butt. I expected him to start crying, or to turn and run. He wasn't very big. Larry would never do something like that to anyone who had a chance of fighting back. But the kid didn't cry or run. Instead he stared at Larry and said, “You don't know anything about nightmares.”
I guess that took Larry by surprise. He didn't say a word. Then the kid spoke again. “But you will. Real soon.” He stood up slowly, his eyes still locked on us. “Your worst nightmare is coming. It's on its way.”
“You're crazy,” Larry said. He shook his head. “Let's get out of here. This kid has lost his mind.”
I didn't need much convincing. The Clayton kid was far too strange. We walked away. Behind us, I heard the kid say, “For both of you.”
As we went down Lincoln Street, the breeze picked up. The air filled with whirling maple seeds that had been blown down from three trees that grew in the yard of a house near the corner.
Whenever I saw Larry rough up someone, I found myself acting extra friendly afterward, sort of wanting to make sure he still liked me. Maybe that's why I started to tell him my deep secret. “Hey, you ever pretend that those seeds are—”
“What was that?” Larry said, pointing in front of us.
I didn't see anything. “Where?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Let's go this way.” He turned down Spring Street.
“Sure.” I followed and thought about spilling my secret. But Larry had other things to talk about.
“Did you see that kid's face when I pushed him?” he asked, grinning. He opened his eyes wide, imitating the kid, then snorted in amusement.
“Yeah, he really looked surprised,” I said.
“Bam,
right down on his butt,” Larry said. “That'll teach him to show me some respect.”
“You got that right,” I said.
We'd gone less than a block when Larry stopped again. This time he just stood there and pointed.
This time, I saw it.
He must have been close to seven feet tall. He might have been alive once. Imagine a man made inside out. Give him claws. Give him fangs and an attitude. Now imagine something twice as awful. That's what stood in front of us. If he caught up with us, I think we'd get torn to pieces quicker than you could let out a scream. From the muscles that rippled on the outside of his arms, I know he could pull us apart as easily as a couple of wet napkins.
Larry turned and ran down Spring, crossing Lincoln. I stuck right with him.
“What was that?” I managed to ask as we ran.
“My nightmare,” Larry told me. “My worst nightmare.”
“Oh man. You dream that kind of stuff?” Before Larry could answer, we had to stop. The monster from his nightmare was in front of us, at the corner of Spring and Hickory.
This time, he was closer.
Just like in a nightmare.
We cut down Spring Street. “Let's go to one of the houses,” I said. “Let's get inside.”
“No. I do that sometimes in the nightmare. Then I'm trapped.”
“Do you ever get away?” I asked.
Larry shook his head. “He always catches me.”
We ran. He chased us, but he always ended up ahead of us. “We're dead,” Larry gasped. He was panting so hard he was spraying spit with each breath. “That kid. He did this.”
I thought about the kid. As we'd left, he'd said, “For both of you.” For Larry for what he'd done, and for me for standing there and letting it happen. The very thought of my worst nightmare coming to life made my guts churn. But maybe two bad things could cancel each other out.
“This way,” I said, heading back toward Lincoln.
Larry followed. He was starting to moan softly each time he breathed. I think he was running out of strength. “Sometimes, I find a gun,” Larry said, gasping between sentences. “I shoot it, but it keeps coming.”
“This time is different,” I said.
We made it to Lincoln. We had to keep changing direction on the way. But we made it. I stopped before we reached the maple trees. “We can rest here,” I told Larry. “We're safe.”
“What … ?” That was all Larry could get out.
“That's my worst nightmare,” I said, looking at the trees.
“Huh?” Then Larry pointed toward the corner. “Got to run.” His nightmare stood ahead of us, at the other side of the maples.
“No. Let him come.”
I waited. I think Larry still wanted to run, but
he couldn't find the strength. I watched the seeds whirling down, imagining what would happen if they suddenly became as sharp as razors.
A stray seed whirled at me, caught by a gust of wind. The seed glanced off my forehead. I could feel something warm and wet running down my face. Blood. In front of us, Larry's nightmare slowly lurched forward. But it was almost over. Larry's worst nightmare was about to walk right through my own worst nightmare.
“We're okay,” I said.
“You're bleeding.”
I shook my head. “Doesn't matter.” I held my breath for a moment as Larry's nightmare tried to pass through the cloud of swirling seeds. It was like watching tomatoes in a blender. I had to turn away. I looked at Larry's face. He was staring straight ahead, watching his nightmare get shredded.
“My nightmare …” He still hadn't caught his breath.
“It's okay,” I said. “It's over.”
“My nightmare,” he said again. He kept staring. I didn't know how he could stand to look at that mess. “Sometimes, I find an ax.” He took a small step backward.
“It's over,” I said. I risked a peek beneath the maples. Larry's nightmare was now thousands of scattered shreds.
“I use the ax. I chop my nightmare to pieces.” He took another step back. Then he grabbed my shirt and twisted it and put his face an inch from mine. “It doesn't matter. The pieces just keep coming.”
I looked past Larry to the spot where his nightmare should have ended.
“No,” I gasped as my blood froze in my veins and my muscles fell slack from fear. “No …”
Larry was right. The pieces were coming. They were small. But they were fast. Suddenly, the maple seeds didn't seem all that awful. Suddenly, I had a new worst nightmare. I tried to run, but the pieces were everywhere.

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