Home Alone 2 (7 page)

Kevin ran into his suite and locked the door behind him. He went into the bedroom and locked that door, too. He couldn't believe how many things had just gone wrong. The bad guys from Illinois had come out of nowhere and wanted to kill him
and
he'd been accused of credit card fraud. As far as he was concerned, this was the end of the vacation! It was time to go home! He opened his father's travel bag and took out the return plane ticket to Chicago. Then he took some bags of Doritos from the minibar and packed them into his backpack along with the Polaroid camera, his father's wallet, and the toys he'd bought at Duncan's Toy Chest. Finally he stuck the Talkboy in the pocket of his coat. Suddenly he heard the elevator doors open out in the hall. It was time to take evasive action!

Kevin turned on the television and the VCR, and grabbed the remote. The gangster movie started to play just as the door to the living room began to open. Kevin turned the TV's volume up high.

"Hold it right there!" the gangster on the tape shouted.

In the living room, the concierge, bellman, clerk, and two hotel security guards stopped, surprised by the tough adult voice.

"Uh, it's the concierge, sir," the concierge said nervously.

"I knew it was you—" the gangster's voice boomed. "I could smell ya gettin' off the elevator."

While the hotel employees stared wide-eyed at the door to the bedroom, Kevin pressed the "mute" button and skipped over Carlotta's reply on the tape.

"You was here last night, too, wasn't ya?" the gangster barked.

"Uh, yes, sir, I was," the concierge answered. Could this be a trick? He stepped closer to the bedroom door. It was open a few inches and he peeked in just enough to see a man's shadow on the wall. Recalling what happened the night before, the concierge quickly backed away.

He shook his head. "I'm terribly sorry. We're looking for a young man."

"All right," the gangster replied. "I believe ya, but . . . my tommy gun don't!"

At the words "tommy gun" the others looked at each other in horror.

"Get down on your knees and tell me you love me," the gangster demanded. In the bedroom Kevin hit the "pause" button on the remote and waited.

In the living room the hotel employees looked confused. Finally the concierge spoke. "Do you mean all of us, sir? Or just me?"

Kevin left the VCR on "pause." The concierge swallowed and turned to the others. "I think we better get on our knees."

They slowly sank to the floor. Then the concierge said, "I love you."

The bellman coughed. "Uh, me too."

Kevin hit "play" and the gangster barked angrily: "Ya gotta do better than that."

"We love you!" the terrified hotel employees gasped in unison.

Kevin grabbed the backpack and airline ticket and ran out the bedroom door to the hallway. From inside, he could hear the gangster on the tape say, "Maybe I'm off my hinges, but I believe you . . . That's why I'm gonna let you go. You got to the count of three to get your lousy, lyin', low-down, four-flushin' carcass out that door. One . . . two . . ."

Kevin heard a maniacal laugh and then the rapid-fire sound of the machine gun. A split second later the hotel employees dove out the living room door and landed in a pile in the hallway. Down the corridor, Kevin quickly disappeared into a stairwell.

He ran down the stairs and then out into a service corridor lined with bags of dirty linens, a couple of broken chairs, and room service carts covered with dirty dishes. Ahead were two large swinging doors. As Kevin neared them, he felt the air grow colder and realized they must lead outside.

Kevin burst through the swinging doors, and into a large garage with a truck loading dock. He ran to the edge of the dock and jumped . . .

Right into the waiting arms of Harry and Marv.

"Nice of you to drop in, kid." Harry grinned as he twisted Kevin's arm behind his back.

A few minutes later Kevin found himself walking down Fifth Avenue in the middle of a crowd of last-minute shoppers. Harry and Marv each had a firm, but discreet grip on one of his

arms.

"We spent a year in jail thinking we had the worst luck in the universe," Harry said in a low voice. "But we were wrong, little buddy."

"Yeah," Marv added. "Right now you've got the worst luck in the universe."

Kevin knew his future didn't look bright. These guys definitely planned to do something bad to him. He secretly reached into his coat pocket and pressed the "record" button on his Talkboy. Maybe someday someone would find it and learn what had happened to him.

"What are you guys doing in New York?" Kevin asked.

"We busted out of the joint, kid," Marv said proudly. "We ain't robbin' houses no more. We're robbin' toy stores. Tonight, we're hittin' Duncan's Toy Chest. Five floors of cash. Then we're gonna get us some phony passports and—"

"You wanna shut up, Marv?" Harry snapped.

"What's the difference?" Marv asked. "He ain't gonna tell nobody. Except maybe the fish."

"Let's just get him down to the subway tunnel,'' Harry said. "I'll feel a lot better when he's on ice."

Kevin reached into his pocket and felt his airline ticket. If he could get away from these guys, he'd go straight to the airport, get the first plane home, and never come back to New York again.

"Hey, what's this?" Marv suddenly grabbed Kevin's hand and pulled it out of his pocket.

"An airplane ticket?" Harry yanked the ticket out of Kevin's hand and read it. "One round trip to Miami, Florida. Hey, Marv, I think the squirt must've gotten on the wrong plane."

"So his family's probably in Florida," Marv said.

"Yeah!" Harry laughed and ripped the ticket into little pieces. "You won't be needing this no more, little dude. Know why? 'Cause American Airlines don't fly to the Promised Land!"

The bad guys laughed and their cloudy breaths filled the cold air. Kevin bit his lip and watched the torn pieces of ticket flutter to the sidewalk. Now what was he going to do? Suddenly he saw a policeman on a horse up ahead, but even as he tried to figure out a way to get the mounted cop's attention, he felt Harry and Marv squeeze his arms.

"I got a gun in my pocket," Harry whispered tensely. "You open your mouth to that cop and you'll be able to spit gum out through your forehead."

Kevin didn't have a chance as they walked past the policeman. Back in the crowds again, he feIt the bad guys loosen their grip on his arms. This might be his last opportunity. An attractive-looking woman in a short, dark coat was walking in front of them. As they stopped at a light and the crowd pressed together on the corner, Kevin reached forward and pinched her.

At that moment Marv's head was filled with delightful thoughts—like how he was going to get rid of the kid, and how he and Harry were gonna become instant millionaires after they cleaned out Duncan's Toy Chest that night. The last thing on his mind was that pretty lady in the short, dark coat who'd decked him in the toy store that afternoon. So he was quite surprised when she suddenly spun around and faced him.

"You again?" Her eyes widened.

Marv smiled. He always knew he had an unusual affect on women. Then he noticed that she was making a fist and pulling it back. But this wasn't the affect he'd hoped for.

POW!

As Marv tumbled backward, he let go of Kevin's arm. Kevin quickly turned and socked Harry in the stomach with all his might.

"
Uhhh!
" The bad guy instantly grimaced and dropped to his knees. Kevin stared at his little fist in amazement. Then he grabbed his backpack and took off across the street.

The light changed and the pedestrians left the corner, leaving Marv on his back and Harry on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Marv propped himself up on his elbows. "Where's the kid?"

"Headed for the park," Harry grimaced and pointed toward the trees.

"You okay?" Marv asked as he started to help Harry up.

"Would I be on my knees if I was okay?" Harry snapped. "He hit me in the ulcer."

Marv helped Harry to his feet and they ran into the park, looking for Kevin. Ahead of them was a typical late afternoon Central Park scene: joggers, people walking dogs, a horse-drawn hansom cab waiting for a fare, and a group of schoolchildren wearing caps or hooded coats, going home after a field trip. Harry and Marv smiled. It was obvious where they would hide if they were a kid.

They waded through the crowd of children, yanking the hats and hoods off every boy who appeared to be Kevin's height. But none of them was Kevin.

"I don't get it," Marv said when they'd finished. "We checked every kid."

"We should have shot him when we had the chance," Harry grumbled, looking around at the trees and joggers. "I hate pulling a job knowing that kid's out on the loose."

"What can he do?" Marv asked. "Kids are helpless."

"Not that kid," Harry replied.

"Hey, he don't got a house full of dangerous goodies this time," Marv said. "He's alone, and he's in the park, and it's gonna be dark soon."

Harry saw that his partner was right. The sun was sinking behind the buildings to the west, leaving long shadows across the bare trees and bushes. Pretty soon it would be night.

"Grown men come in here and don't get out alive," Marv said.

"Yeah." Harry started to grin. He liked what he was hearing.

"Good luck, little fella!" he shouted, and then turned to Marv. "I think it's time we paid Duncan's Toy Chest another visit."

Curled up in the storage box behind the hansom cab, Kevin heard Harry's shout. It might've been a trick to get him to come out, so he stayed in his hiding place even longer. It was dark in the storage box and smelled like horses, but Kevin knew it was better than winding up in the bottom of the Hudson River.

A long time passed. Finally, when Kevin was certain the bad guys must've given up searching for him, he pushed up the lid of the storage box and peeked out. The sun had disappeared behind the buildings. The sky was gray and the park was dark and cold. All the joggers and dog walkers he'd seen before were gone. He climbed out of the box, stepped over a frozen puddle of water, and watched the mercury vapor streetlights in the park slowly start to glow. Kevin hugged himself and shivered. He was alone, without a place to stay that night, without a way to fly home or to Miami or anyplace else.

And it was Christmas Eve.

"I want to go home," he sniffed. "Mom, where are you?"

The rain poured down relentlessly. The motel room felt damp and smelled like wet towels left in the hamper too long. Kate sat on the bed staring at the dull black rotary phone on the chipped night table. In a chair nearby Peter was slumped down, snorting and twitching in a fitful sleep, while the kids sat around the flickering TV in the next room, watching
It's a Wonderful Life
in Spanish.

The phone rang and Kate grabbed it. "Yes?"

"It's Officer Bennett, ma'am. We've located your son.

"Ohmygosh!" Kate gasped and shook Peter's shoulder.

"What? What is it?" he asked groggily.

"It's Officer Bennett," Kate said. "They know where Kevin is."

"Where?" Peter sat up, instantly awake.

"Where?" Kate asked the police officer.

"New York City, ma'am," Officer Bennett replied. "He's wanted for unauthorized use of a credit card in the Plaza Hotel."

"What!?" Kate gasped.

"What!?" Peter gasped.

"He's wanted for unauthorized use of a credit card," Kate told her husband.

"I'm sure he only did it because he was scared," Kate told the police officer. "He's not a troublemaker."

"Who cares about that?" Peter asked. "Do they have him?"

"Do they have him?" Kate asked.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," the officer said. "Some of the hotel people tried to question him about the card and he ran away."

The disappointed look on Kate's face said it all. "Darn it," Peter muttered.

"We'll catch the next flight," Kate told Officer Bennett. "And thank you so much for your help."

She hung up and looked sadly at her husband. "So we know he's in New York. By himself. I don't know whether to be thrilled or terrified."

"I wonder if he'd know enough to go to my brother's place?" Peter said.

"I thought they were in Paris?"

"They are. But maybe they have a housesitter."

"Didn't you say they were in the middle of a major renovation?" Kate asked.

Peter nodded and sighed. "You're right. The place probably isn't even inhabitable right now."

Uncle Rob's house was on a dark side street about a block from Central Park. As Kevin walked along the cracked sidewalk, he could see that the neighborhood wasn't what he had expected. Instead of individual houses with lawns and trees like Oak Park, the houses here were actually three- and four-story brick buildings pressed right up next to each other. And there were no lawns at all. Just a small garden in front of each building. While some of the buildings had lights on inside and looked inhabited, others were nothing more than shadowy wrecks, with boarded-up windows and doorways blocked with cinder blocks.

Kevin stopped in front of Uncle Rob's house and felt his heart sink. The building was dark and boarded up. The whole first floor was hidden behind a scaffolding of loose wooden planks laid across a metal frame. A long yellow refuse chute ran down from the third floor to a big metal Dumpster on the street.

Kevin stared up at the brass knocker on the front door. On the slim chance that someone was actually inside, he climbed the concrete steps and knocked.

No one answered.

Kevin knocked again. When that didn't bring an answer, he pressed his nose against the first-floor window and looked inside. The place was a wreck. The walls had been stripped away, leaving a wooden framework. The floor had been ripped up, too, the bare beams covered here and there with large flat sheets of plywood. Scattered around the plywood were ladders, workmen's tools, coils of rope, bricks, and cans of paint and varnish.