Secret Circles

They moved through a short hallway into a large room dominated by a long table flanked with leather chairs. The sigil on the ceiling confirmed it as the crowded room he‟d peeked in on last night.

Weezy seemed to have lost her voice, but her wide eyes never stopped moving as her gaze lasered into every nook and cranny.

“This is the conference room, where the members meet to discuss matters of concern to the Order and themselves.”

Light through the barred windows reflected off the table‟s smeared, dusty surface.

Messy, Jack thought.

He‟d have figured a dapper guy like Mr. Drexler to be a neatnik.

As if reading Jack‟s thoughts, the man said, “The premises need a thorough cleaning. I don‟t wish to be bothered with anyone here during my stay, but a crew will be through as soon as I depart.”

“Really?”

Mr. Drexler looked at him. “You‟re surprised that we‟d want to keep the place clean?”

“No … just surprised you let anyone in.”

“The cleaning service is owned by a brother, and the workers will be personally supervised by him.”

Jack noticed the paintings lining the walls. Weezy stopped before the portrait of a stern-looking man in medieval clothing.

She found her voice. “Who‟s that?”

“A former Arch of the worldwide High Council of the Seven.”

Jack repressed a laugh. “Well, that clears that up.”

Mr. Drexler allowed one of his tight smiles. “Briefly: The Order is ruled by the High Council of the Seven, and the leading member of the Council is known as the Arch. All the men you see here are former Arches. The portraits are not originals, of course. They are copies of archived paintings.”

Jack checked them out, one after the other.

“So all these guys—” she said.

“Arches, please. Show some respect.”

“Sorry. All these „Arches‟ knew the Secret History of the World?”

Mr. Drexler gave her an appraising look. “Do you really think such a history exists?”

She looked him square in the eye. “Absolutely.”

She‟d often told Jack that the Septimus Order was guardian of certain truths that had been kept secret and passed on throughout the history of the world, and that knowledge of those truths allowed them to manipulate people and events—history itself.

Mr. Drexler‟s lips twisted. “Perhaps you are right, but you will never find out.”

“Why not?”

“Because women are not allowed in the Order.” He turned to Jack. “But you can learn, should you ever be asked to join.”

“And accept.”

The man frowned. “Don‟t make your father‟s mistake and turn down the invitation. It is offered only once. Who knows how far he could have gone?” He gestured to the portraits. “He could have been here among the Movers.” He turned and pointed to one of the windows. “Instead he‟s out there with the Moved. Such a shame.”

Jack had no idea what he was talking about, but couldn‟t help smile. “Believe it or not, he seems to be bearing up pretty well.”

“Only because he doesn‟t know what he is missing.”

Jack noticed other paintings interspersed among the portraits, mostly of buildings.

“What are these?”

“Other Lodges. The Septimus Order is global.”

Jack heard Weezy gasp as she stopped before a painting. “Look!”

Jack stepped over to see and suppressed a gasp of his own. She was staring at a painting of the pyramid cage in the woods, but this had no broken section. The faces of its megaliths were clean and smooth, and the glyphs carved into each were clearly visible—the same as on their little pyramid. It sat in a landscaped clearing under a sunny sky. The trees around it looked more like palms than pines.

“Is that a Lodge too?” Jack said, knowing it wasn‟t.

Drexler came up behind them. “Oh, no. That is simply an ancient decorative structure.”

“Decorative?” Weezy pointed to a dark shape in the shadows within. “Then what‟s that in there?”

“You‟d have to ask the artist, and I‟m afraid he‟s long dead. Now come this way.”

Jack looked at Weezy and found her staring back. They both looked again at the painting. No question about it: The artist had painted something trapped in that cage. Something big.

The painting was one more connection between the Lodge and the pyramids—big and little.

Now … find the little one— if it was here.

They followed Mr. Drexler into a large sitting room, the one Jack had peeked at through the front entrance. It was furnished with comfy-looking, overstuffed chairs. A rug woven with the sigil design covered most of the hardwood floor, and another sigil overhung a jumbo fireplace shielded by a brass fire screen decorated

with—surprise—another sigil.

“This room is for less formal gatherings,” Mr. Drexler said.

Jack barely heard him. His attention immediately fixed on the high mantel where he‟d glimpsed the little black object, but now he saw no sign of it.

Weezy was staring too, a dismayed look on her face.

Had he imagined it, or had Mr. Drexler removed it before letting them in?

Motioning Weezy to stay in the center of the room, he wandered in that direction.

“Wow. Neat fireplace.”

Nothing the least bit special about it—he simply wanted a closer look at the mantel.

“It is still used on rare occasions,” he heard Mr. Drexler say behind him.

Jack made a show of peeking behind the fire screen. He checked out the large brass andirons, then straightened and stretched up onto his toes for a quick close look at the mantel. There, front and center on its dusty surface, was a small hexagon of clean wood.

Six sides, just like their little pyramid.

Gotcha-gotcha-gotcha!

It took all Jack‟s will not to call Weezy over and show her, but he didn‟t want to risk an explosion.

He could think of only one reason they‟d remove it before his tour: It was the same pyramid he and Weezy had found in the mound. The fact that the Order had been able to steal it from where they had testified to the group‟s long reach.

Maybe it had been theirs to begin with. Maybe it had been stolen and, for some reason known only to members of the Order, buried along with the murdered man Jack and Weezy had found.

If it had been the Order‟s originally, fine. Say so and claim it. But they‟d said nothing. Why not? Afraid to draw attention to their oh-so-secret Lodge? What ever the reason, they‟d chosen instead to steal it from Weezy and Jack.

Well, because the Order had never claimed it, as far as Jack was concerned, finders keepers. It belonged to Weezy and him.

And he wanted it back.

But how to get it?

Well, it had been stolen from him, so he guessed it would be only right for him to steal it back.

He‟d composed himself by the time he turned to face Mr. Drexler again. Weezy was staring at him, the question writ large on her face. He gave away nothing.

“Really cool,” he said. “What‟s upstairs?”

“We won‟t be going there. It is divided into smaller rooms, leftover from the day when the Lodge had residents. Eggers and I are using two of those now, but there‟s nothing of interest there. Same with the basement: used simply for storage.”

Jack wandered over to the front door. From past experience he knew it was steel, but he hadn‟t realized that the lock was a double-key dead bolt. The key sat in the inner keyhole now.

“I, um, thought you‟d have an alarm system.”

Mr. Drexler‟s eyebrows lifted. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, the place is empty all the time—I mean, until you showed up. Someone could come in and rob you.”

He gave his sort-of smile. “It might prove rather entertaining if someone tried.”

“No, really.”

“Rob us of what? There‟s nothing of value here except the furniture. And to take that they‟d have to back a van up to the front door. We have bars on the windows and locks on the doors.

Quite enough, I think.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The first-floor windows were all barred, but even though the ones on the second floor were not, he couldn‟t imagine any way to reach them short of a ladder.

Mr. Drexler clapped his hands once. “End of tour. I hope your curiosity is satisfied.”

Weezy‟s expression became stony. “I‟d really like to see the rest of the place.”

“Sorry. Not included.”

Jack gave her another be-cool look. He saw her take a deep breath and set her lips in a thin line.

But as they passed between the front room and the rear conference room, she froze.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Jack hadn‟t heard a thing.

“It sounded like a child.”

Jack‟s skin tingled. He almost said he‟d heard something like that right outside last night, but held back. He wasn‟t supposed to have been right outside last night.

A heavy, dark oak door stood closed to her right. She pulled it open, revealing a stairway down to a dark basement.

“What is this, now? I thought we agreed you would confine yourself to what I showed you.”

“But I heard—”

“You heard nothing. You are merely looking for an excuse to hunt for your imaginary artifact.”

Weezy stood at the top of the stairs, eyes closed, listening. But what ever sound she was waiting for never came. Mr. Drexler pushed the door closed and gestured toward the rear of the Lodge.

“Thanks for the tour,” Jack said as they reached the back door.

Weezy said nothing.

On the way out he noticed the rear door was steel too, with a double-key dead bolt to boot. He figured he might be able to pick it, but man, oh, man …

Sure. Easy enough to say he‟d steal it back, but if he got caught he was certain the Lodge would use all its many connections in high places to make sure he was prosecuted to the max.

Breaking in here … an awfully big step. Risky. He‟d be crazy to try.

Had to be another way.

4

“I know I heard something,” Weezy said as they walked across the lawn. Jack told her about what he‟d heard last night.

“A cat?” she said when he finished. “That didn‟t sound like any cat to me.” “I didn‟t hear it, so I can‟t say. And you didn‟t hear it again.”

She sighed. “No. I guess it could have been something else.”

He waited until they‟d reached the curb before saying, “Maybe it was the

pyramid crying out to you—because they‟ve got it.”

Her eyes widened. “You‟re sure?”

“What do you think: The mantel is dusty but there‟s a hexagon of clean wood

right where I saw something black and pointy.”

She spun and started toward the Lodge. “I‟m going back!”

He grabbed her arm. “And do what? He won‟t let you in. Probably won‟t even

answer the door. Let‟s not tip our hand.”

“We‟ve got to find a way in there!”

“Easier said than done. He hardly ever goes out, and even if he does, the place

is locked up like Fort Knox.”

“We‟ll think of something. And we‟ll do it together.” She put out her hand.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook.

“And while we‟re thinking,” she said, “maybe we should take another look at the

big pyramid—for inspiration.”

“You think it‟s the same one in the painting?”

“I‟d bet my copy of the Secret History of the World.”

“But you don‟t—”

“If I did, I would.”

“And what do we hope to find there? Another little pyramid?”

Her dark eyes sparkled. “That‟d be nice. No, I‟m thinking we might find evidence

of what ever was kept in there—maybe remains of the thing itself. Another piece of the Secret History. Wouldn‟t that be something?”

“It would,” Jack said, looking back at the Lodge, “but I‟ve got to finish up the

weeds and trim all the bushes by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why then?”

“He won‟t say so, but I think it has something to do with the equinox.” Weezy glanced toward Mrs. Clevenger‟s place up the street. “Did you get the

warning?”

“About staying out of the Pines? Yeah, Walt told me all sorts of weird things can

happen in there. What do you think?”

Weezy smiled. “I think we‟re obligated to check it out.”

“I thought you‟d say that.”

“We‟re on?”

“Of course. I‟m not letting you have all the fun.”

Jack felt a little uneasy about ignoring Mrs. C‟s warning, but he couldn‟t back out

and leave Weezy to go on her own.

But really … they knew the woods. What could happen?

5

I must be crazy, Jack thought as he slipped along the hedge separating Mr. Rosen‟s yard from the Vivinos‟.

After dinner, he‟d picked up the video camera at USED, then ridden out here. His bike now was leaning against the far side of Mr. Rosen‟s trailer and the camera hung by its strap from his shoulder.

He found a spot behind a big spirea. Its dense tangle of fine branches offered good cover. It sat within earshot of the house, so he settled down to wait.

Alarms kept ringing in his brain, warning him about how much trouble he‟d be in if he ever got caught. He knew they were right but he ignored them. He had to. He‟d committed himself to this.

For Sally and her mother.

Save them, Jack. I can’t do it, so you’ve gotta. Save them.

Yeah, and for Tony too.

A spotlight from the house shone on the pool area. The gate on the chain-link fence was closed.

A pink beach ball sat between a pair of lounge chairs.

In the house, all quiet except for voices from the TV filtering through the window screens. He tried to identify the show but couldn‟t.

He‟d skimmed through the camera manual and reviewed what he‟d read. Not much to operating the thing: turn it on, sight through the viewfinder, and press the little red REC button.

He felt torn as he sat and listened. Part of him hoped for peace and quiet in the Vivino house hold to night, and another knew that if he didn‟t expose the mistreatment, it would go on and on.

But how to expose it? Assuming he did capture something damning on the tape, what to do with it? Send it to a newspaper?

Nah. That wouldn‟t work. They‟d probably give it to the police, and without Mrs. V‟s cooperation he‟d be back to square one.

He had a brief fantasy about sneaking into the cable-TV company‟s studio and running it on the local access channel. Hardly anybody watched it, but enough would see the tape to start talking about it, spread the word about what was going on in the Vivino house, and pretty soon everyone would know. And if everyone knew, Mr. Vivino would have to change his ways.

But that was a no go. Even if Jack could sneak into the studio or the control booth, he wouldn‟t know how to put the tape on air.

The Freeholders? Maybe send the tape to the Board of Freeholders and let them know what they were allowing into their midst. But was that enough?

Jack decided to shelve it for now. First he had to capture something. If he didn‟t do that, the other questions didn‟t matter.

As he waited in silence, he noticed a flicker of light near the western horizon.

Lightning?

The sky was clear except for clouds to the far west, and the moon hadn‟t risen yet. The murky glitter of the Milky Way arched overhead. Didn‟t look like rain, but he hadn‟t listened for the weather before going out, so he didn‟t—

Another flicker. No question—lightning. Another storm on the way. Weren‟t they ever going to stop?

He thought he saw movement in the front yard, beyond the glow from the lit windows. He squinted through the darkness but didn‟t see anything out of place or that shouldn‟t be there.

Then he caught the stench.

He knew that stink. The hulking shadow they‟d seen in the Pines last month had smelled just like this. The odor seemed to be all around him, like an invisible cloud. He couldn‟t tell where it was coming from, because the air was so still. That meant it could be close. Very close.

Then Mr. Vivino‟s voice broke the silence. “What on God‟s Earth is that? What‟s that smell?”

The stench must have drifted inside. The front door opened then and Mr. Vivino stepped out on his steps and looked around.

“God! Did something die out here?”

“Is it a skunk?” Mrs. V called from inside.

“No. I‟ve smelled skunk and this is no skunk.”

Jack shrank back as the man came down the steps and began walking around his yard.

Don’t come over here!

But he did just that.

As Mr. Vivino approached, Jack looked frantically about for an escape route but

had none. Couldn‟t go through the hedge—too much noise. Couldn‟t run—no cover. No choice but to stay put.

So he crouched in the deep shadow at the base of the bush and wished he

had a hole to duck into. He tried to make himself as small as possible, curling into a tight fetal position with his forehead down against his knees. The starshine didn‟t offer much light and Mr.

Vivino had just come from indoors. His eyes wouldn‟t be adjusted yet.

Jack tensed as he heard footsteps approach. His bladder wanted to empty. If Mr. Vivino found him here, no telling what he‟d do. He outweighed Jack by an easy hundred pounds. If he lost that temper of his …

But worse than a beating would be what would come after: caught with a camera outside someone‟s home. Everyone would think he was a Peeping Tom, he‟d be labeled a perv—

The footsteps stopped on the other side of the bush, not two feet away. Jack held his breath and watched the shoes turn this way and that.

He heard Mr. Vivino sniffing the air. The odor had faded.

“I‟ll be damned,” he muttered.

“Did you find anything?” Mrs. V said from a second-floor window.

“No, not a thing. Maybe just a cloud of stink passing through from the highway.”

“Do you think it was dangerous? I mean, toxic?”

“Nah. Didn‟t smell chemical, it just smelled … ripe.”

Ripe… perfect word for it, Jack thought. Now turn around and go back inside.

After a couple of seconds, Mr. Vivino did just that.

But Jack didn‟t move. Even after he heard the front door slam he remained curled up.

And while he hid there he thought about the exchange he had just heard between Mr. and Mrs.

Vivino. They‟d sounded so normal, so much like a regular couple that Jack wondered if he‟d imagined the violence he‟d seen.

No, he hadn‟t imagined anything.

So … could that be the way they were? He gets mad and beats on her and whacks and yells at Sally, and then in the times between they‟re just Mr. and Mrs. Average American Family?

Very strange.

But what ever, he‟d had enough to night. More than enough.

The rumble of thunder in the distance only underscored his need to be gone from this place.

He uncoiled slowly and sniffed. No stench. He checked the front yard: all clear. Same with the back—

He took a second look. Hadn‟t he seen a pink beach ball between the two lounge chairs before?

No biggie. A breeze probably rolled it away.

He squeezed through the hedge into Mr. Rosen‟s yard, found his bike and headed toward the safety and sanity of his own home.

And it was pretty sane, wasn‟t it. Talk about the Average American Family. He had a rock-steady father who worked hard but always made time for him, a stay-at-home mother who volunteered at the hospital and called him her “miracle boy”—and though he hated the term, he recognized the love behind it. Two parents who hardly ever argued—or if they did, kept it out of earshot.

He would have liked to live in a bigger town, one with at least a movie theater and a McDonald‟s within bike distance. But on the upside, Johnson was a town with no crime, where most folks never locked their doors.

They weren‟t rich and he didn‟t have everything he wanted—like a rifle—but he didn‟t lack for anything meaningful, including a great sister. The only fly in the ointment was his jerk brother, but nothing was perfect. And Tom was away at law school, which made him almost bearable.

Whatever family bumps Jack had encountered along the way had been minor—certainly nothing like a death or even a serious illness to contend with.

He felt like he lived in a peaceful bubble. He wondered if it would ever pop.

Never, he hoped.

WEDNESDAY

1

Jack, Weezy, and Eddie walked through Old Town toward the lightning tree. After more rain last night, the lake was way past its banks now. It would be leaking onto the streets soon, and then into people‟s basements. Because Old Town sat uphill from the lake, the water would flow west. Jack‟s house was blocks away, but who knew where and how fast the water would flow once it hit the streets?

“Something‟s got to be done about this,” he heard his mother say.

She, along with Mrs. Connell and a few other ladies from town, was walking behind them, all headed to volunteer in the big Cody Bockman search.

“We should talk to the Freeholders about pumping it out,” Weezy‟s mom said.

Pumping it where? Jack thought. Into the Pines? That‟s going to take a monster pump and one long, long hose.

One thing was certain: If it kept raining, someone was going to have to do something.

Lots of cars were parked up and down Quakerton Road. The locals were turning out in big numbers. After crossing the bridge and walking through Old Town, he was pleasantly surprised to see a couple of hundred people of all ages gathered around the police cars near the barkless, burned-out trunk of the lightning tree.

He saw Walt and his sister, Mrs. Bainbridge, Jeff Colton from Burdett‟s Esso station, Mrs.

Courtland, one of his lawn-mowing customers, plus Professor Nakamura and his wife.

He glanced at Weezy and saw her glaring at the professor. They‟d left the pyramid in his care to be examined by experts, and had never seen it again.

“Come on, Weez,” he said in a low voice. “I know you‟re ticked at him, but let‟s keep this morning about Cody, okay?”

She glanced at him, then nodded. “Okay. Yeah. You‟re right.”

Even blubbery bully-boy Teddy Bishop and his pal Joey had shown up—Jack figured they were here more for the day off than out of any concern for Cody.

Many in the crowd were drinking coffee or sodas and munching donuts or breakfast

sandwiches—the Krauszer‟s down on the highway must have done a land-office business this morning—and most were talking, smiling, some even laughing.

Come on, people, he felt like saying. This isn‟t a picnic. We‟re here to search for a kid who‟s most likely dead.

He noticed a couple of arms waving in the air from the far side of the crowd and recognized Karina and Cristin. Karina was wearing her engineer‟s cap again.

His spirits lifted at the sight of her. As Jack waved back, Eddie said, “I think she‟s got the

haaaaahts for you, Jack.”

“Hots?” Weezy said, straightening and looking around like a dog that just heard a strange noise.

“For Jack? Who?”

“Karina Haddon.” Eddie pointed. “Right over there.”

Weezy looked and said, “Oh. She‟s on our bus.” She frowned at Jack. “She doesn‟t look your type.”

Swell.

“What‟s my type?”

“I don‟t know,” she said, looking a bit flustered. “I just didn‟t think it would be a hippie.”

“She‟s not a hippie.”

“Well, she dresses the part. Remember what you told me about me being a goth because I liked black—”

“And Bauhaus and Siouxsie.”

“‟If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck …‟”

“I hardly know her.”

“But do you like her?” The answer seemed important to her.

Could she be having the same reaction to Karina that he had to Carson?

Jealousy? he wondered.

Most likely not. But something close. A queasy, off course feeling that things might be changing between them, that they might lose the special bond they‟d shared for so many years.

High school, with all the new people it was pushing into their lives—pushing between hem—seemed to threaten that bond.

Was she now getting a taste of that too?

Everything seemed in flux—people dying, people and things disappearing … he didn‟t like change. He wanted everything to stay the same—wished Johnson could be kept in a bottle like Kandor in Superman‟s Fortress of Solitude.

Well, Jack wasn‟t going to lie to her. “Yeah. I like her. She‟s cool.” Weezy stared in Karina‟s direction.

“Cool?”

2

The state cops and the deputies divided the crowd into groups. Jack had to decide

whether to go with Tim Davis‟s group, or edge over and hang with Karina. His mother and her friends were directed toward another group. He settled on Tim. Weezy and Eddie were there and he felt they should stick together. After all, they knew Cody. Karina and Cristin did not.

“All right, listen up, everybody,” Tim said to the thirty or so people gathered around his patrol car. He had a map spread out on the hood. “We took the area around where we found Cody‟s bike and divided it into a grid. Our group has been assigned a specific square of that grid.

We‟re going to walk out to the spot, and when we get there I‟ll show you what to do.”

He took the lead on the fire trail that led away from Johnson. People followed in groups of two and three, speaking in low voices. The party atmosphere had dissipated.

“I hope we find something,” Eddie said.

Weezy folded her arms tight across her chest. “I know what I don’t want to find.”

“What?”

“Cody.”

“I second that,” Jack said. “Been there, done that, don‟t want to do it again.”

He couldn‟t help thinking about finding the body in the mound last month. What a

shock—hadn‟t expected to dig up anything like that. He and Weezy and the rest of Johnson were still dealing with the fallout from that discovery in different ways and to different degrees. No doubt about who it had affected most: Weezy.

But today was different. Today they‟d be looking for a body. Sure, everyone hoped and prayed Cody was okay, but did anyone here actually believe they‟d find him alive? Jack didn‟t. He hoped for the best, but he knew the chances were approaching zero.

Yet, if Cody‟s body was here, he hoped someone would find it today and stop the Bockmans‟

nightmare. If they missed it, the torture of not knowing would go on and on.

But not knowing allowed for hope. He wondered which was worse—eternal fruitless hope, or the short, sharp shock of the truth?

Jack didn‟t know. He did know that if Cody Bockman‟s body was found today, he wanted someone else to find it.

They turned south off the fire trail and wound their way along deer trails through trees and underbrush. Jack had worn jeans and a long-sleeve rugby shirt. Weezy and Eddie, both seasoned veterans of Pinelands exploration, also wore long sleeves. Jack felt sorry for the neos who had come with short-sleeved and even sleeveless tops—looking to boost their summer tan before fall? They were in for a morning of scratches from the brush and bites from mosquitoes and greenhead flies.

When they reached the designated area, Tim had his people line up side by side, facing south.

Next he had everyone stretch their arms straight out from their sides, then move away until each person was touching fingertips with the person on either side. Weezy stood to Jack‟s left, Eddie to his right.

“Okay, ” Tim said through a bullhorn. “Everyone pick out a landmark straight ahead of them.

Remember that landmark. Now start walking toward it, but concentrate on the ground. Eyeball every inch, looking for anything that didn’t originate in the Pines. If you see anything —

anything ,even if it looks like litter — give a holler. Same with any tree you’re passing: Examine the bark and look up into the branches. Again, if you see something, give a holler. Now, whenever you hear someone holler, stop where you are so I can go check it out and tag it if it seems like it’s worth looking into .Got that?”

He repeated the instructions, then finished with: “Be alert. His bike was found just east of here.

We may get lucky.”

All depends on what you mean by “lucky,” Jack thought.

Tim started the line moving. The going was slow—lots of trees in the way. Each had to be checked up and down, all the way around. That made it hard to keep moving in a straight line.

Open areas were few and far between, and last night‟s rain would have washed away what ever tracks had been left behind.

Someone far to the right yelled. Everyone stopped and waited as Tim hustled over, checked it out, then used a slim bamboo stick with a little Day-Glo red pennant on top to mark the spot.

“All right” he bull-horned. “Let’s get moving again. Take your time. No rush. The last thing we want to do is miss something.”

As Jack began walking and searching, word filtered down from the right that someone had found an old, flattened Wawa coffee cup. Probably litter. Good thing Old Man Foster posted his land. If people camped around here, there‟d be no end to the junk the searchers would be finding.

He wondered if anyone had asked Foster‟s permission. Probably not. No one seemed to know where to find him. And anyway, how could he have said no? Even if he had, the search would have gone on anyway.

Another yell, this time from the left. Another stop and wait as Tim planted another flag. After they were moving again, people passed word of the discovery down the line.

“Someone found a child‟s sneaker,” Weezy told him when the news reached her.

“Just one?”

Weezy shrugged. “‟ A‟ sneaker is what I heard.”

“Boy‟s or girl‟s?”

She rolled her eyes. “They didn‟t say.”

They kept moving, searching. By the time the group had finished combing its square of the grid, Jack had found nothing. At the end they came upon another group finishing a neighboring square. No sign of Cody there either.

While people broke into chattering groups, Jack made his way back toward where the sneaker had been found. He spotted Tim squatting by a flag, speaking into a walkie-talkie as he studied a small sneaker half buried in sand. His back was turned but Jack could hear him loud and clear.

“Look, it‟s a red-on-white Keds and it‟s a kid‟s size five—just like the mother told us. Get a lab team out here. This could be it.”

Jack‟s stomach coiled. Aw, no.

A faint garble crackled from the receiver, then Tim said, “Okay. Roger and out.”

He rose and turned, then froze when he saw Jack.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see the sneaker. Is it … is it Cody‟s?”

“Can‟t say.”

“But you said it fits the description.”

Tim‟s face gave nothing away. “You weren‟t supposed to hear that. And even if it does, Keds sells a zillion sneakers like that.”

“Yeah, but it‟s the right size and color and not far from where Cody‟s bike was found. What are the odds it‟s not?”

Tim sighed. “Don‟t go blabbing about this, okay?”

“You know I don‟t blab.”

“See that you don‟t.”

Jack squatted for a closer look at the soaked sneaker where it lay on its side, half-filled with wet sand.

“How—?”

“Don‟t touch it!”

Jack bit back a duh! —he‟d seen enough cop shows to know you didn‟t touch evidence—and instead said, “Wasn‟t going to. How come there‟s only one?”

“Do I look like the Amazing Carnac?”

Tim was sounding testy.

“But where‟s the rest of him?”

“If I knew that, do you think I‟d be here jawboning with you?”

Something in Tim‟s tone made Jack glance up at him. He realized he looked exhausted.

“I was only asking.”

Tim puffed out his cheeks. “Sorry, Jack. Not much sleep since he disappeared. Johnson‟s on my circuit and I feel kind of responsible.”

“You‟ll find him.” Jack wished he could believe it.

“I‟ve got a feeling that if we do, it will be by accident. All this damn rain washes away trace evidence. And check out that sneak—looks like it‟s been there for days. Chances of the lab boys getting something off it are slim to none.”

“What about the circus?”

Tim shook his head. “They‟ve been as cooperative as can be. We‟ve been all over the grounds, the tents, the trailers—nothing.”

“Did you know that a kid disappeared at one of their stops in Michigan?” Tim stared at him.

“What? Where did you hear that?”

Jack told him what the canvas boss had said.

“Well, he didn‟t tell us anything about it. Damn. Tomorrow‟s their last night. Then they pack up and head to their next stop. I‟d better check into this.” He pulled out a notebook. “Did this guy happen to say where in Michigan?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Just Michigan.”

As he watched Tim write, he said, “What about the Klenke house?”

Tim shook his head. “First place we looked. Been back twice. Nothing. But I gotta tell you, the second day I was in there, boy, did it stink. The first and third day, fine. But the second—awful.

Could almost make you believe the stories about it being haunted.” When he finished jotting he looked up. “How‟s med school treating your sister?”

“She loves it.”

“Smartest girl I ever knew.” He grinned. “I guess I should be calling her a „woman‟ these days.

Tell her I was asking for her.”

“Sure.”

Jack realized Deputy Tim still had a thing for Kate. They‟d dated for almost a year, then stopped. No big breakup. They were still friends and talked now and then. He wondered what happened to them.

Tim started walking back toward the group. “Gotta go play mother hen. I know you three can find your way back, but I don‟t know about the rest. Don‟t want someone else turning up lost.

Remember: Mum‟s the word.”

Jack was turning to follow him when he saw a figure lurking in the trees, staring at him.

3

Jack froze, remembering the incident in the Vivinos‟ yard last night, but no stink stung his nose and this looked like a kid.

Then he recognized him … that tall, skinny piney kid who‟d got in Jake Shuett‟s face. Had a weird name.

Coffin … Levi Coffin.

“Levi!” Jack called as the kid turned away.

The kid kept going so Jack started after him.

“Levi, wait up!”

Levi stopped and turned to face him. His expression was flat, his mismatched eyes cold.

“What you want?”

“Just wanted to talk. I‟m—”

“I know who you are.” His accent sounded almost Southern. “What you wanna talk to an

„inbred‟ for?”

“Hey, no fair.” Jack stopped before him. “That wasn‟t me. Never was, never will be.”

“You sit with him. You get your laughs on us?”

“Come on. Lighten up. Can‟t always choose who sits at your table. You know that.”

“Yeah, truth in that. What you want?”

“Just wondering if you were in the search. I didn‟t see you.”

“Been doin‟ our own search.”

That was heartening. No one knew these woods better than a piney.

“And?”

“He ain‟t around.”

That shook Jack. “He‟s not in the Pines at all?”

“Not in this end. Least not as far as we can tell. Someone or something might‟ve got him and carried him off, but he ain‟t here now.”

“Some thing? You mean, like a big stinky bear or—”

“Stink.” Levi‟s eyes widened and he leaned closer. “What you know about stink?”

Jack told him about the hulking silhouette Weezy, Eddie, and he had seen in the Pines last month.

“You know what it is?”

Levi shook his head. “No one does, but when we smell it, we run. You smell it again, you do the same—like the hounds of hell ‟re after you.”

Jack thought about the odor in the Vivinos‟ yard. Had something come after Sally?

Taking a shot in the dark, Jack pointed toward the east and said, “Is it connected to that pyramid out there?”

Levi followed his point, then smiled. “Figured it‟d be only a matter of time before you and your girlfriend tumbled onto that.”

“She‟s not my girlfriend, and how do you know—?”

“We spot you two now and again. Saw you and her messin‟ with Jed Jameson‟s traps. You might wanna be careful about that. He‟s real mean.”

Jack already knew that.

“But what about the pyramid? What is it—or what was it?”

Levi shrugged. “No one knows. But Saree says stay away, so we do. You might wanna do the same.”

“Who‟s Saree?”

“One of us.”

By the way Levi said “us,” Jack had a feeling he wasn‟t talking about pineys in general, or family. More like something much closer even than family.

“I don‟t understand.”

Levi smiled and turned away. “And you never will. Stay in your town and leave the Pines to us.

You‟ve got your place and we‟ve got ours. Best to keep it that way. Especially to night.”

“But—”

He waved a hand without looking back. Jack got the message: conversation over.

He watched him disappear into the trees.

Especially tonight… The equinox. He and Weezy had plans for a little trip into the Pines to night. Maybe the smart thing to do would be to call it off.

Fat chance.

4

“Hey, Walt!”

On his way down Quakerton Road toward USED, Jack spotted Walt

rolling a mower over the lawn of the VFW post on the other side of the street. He veered his bike in that direction.

He skidded to a stop before the post—really a converted ranch house. The sign over the door read: VETERANS OF FOREIGN WARS—JOHNSON MEMORIAL POST. He stood his

bike on the sidewalk and walked over.

Walt looked up from the mower. His eyes held their usual glassy look from his applejack.

The neck of a pint bottle poked up from one of the pockets of his fatigue jacket.

“Hey, Jack. Saw you at the search.” He scratched his beard with leather-gloved fingers and shook his shaggy head. “Shame we didn‟t find that poor kid. People found a lot of stuff, but most of it was junk. Maybe something will give them a clue, but it doesn‟t look good.”

“Our group found a kid‟s sneaker, but who knows …” Jack let the subject drift off as he checked out the post‟s ragged grass, badly in need of cutting. “That still looks pretty wet.”

“Yeah, I know, but I gotta get it done today because they‟re talking about more rain tomorrow, and tomorrow night‟s the smoker.”

Right. The fourth Thursday of every month was smoker night. Boys’ night out Dad liked to call it, with emphasis on the first word. He never went. He‟d tried it and didn‟t like it. Not his cup of tea, as he liked to say.

Jack knew what went on: cigars and cards and drinking and porno films. He didn‟t think it would be his cup of tea—especially the cigar part—but he‟d sure like to try it once. He‟d heard about porno films, talked to some kids who‟d seen some, but had never seen one himself. He was curious.

The smoker … a whole bunch of the area‟s vets, from up Tabernacle way down to Shamong, would be here tomorrow night.

And then Mr. Bainbridge‟s voice from the other night echoed through his head.

…we finally got rid of those old eight-millimeters .We’ve got a VCR now…

Yes! Show a tape of Freeholder-wannabe Al Vivino in action to a whole roomful of his VFW

buddies. He‟d never live that down.

But first Jack needed a tape.

Last night‟s close call at the Vivinos‟ had left him sort of uncertain about going back for another try. It seemed risky and kind of stupid without a plan of what to do with the video if and when he got it.

But this changed everything.

“Hey, you know, Walt,” he said, nodding toward the post, “I‟ve never been inside. What‟s it look like?”

“Not much to see. Ground floor here‟s got the meeting room and the office. Downstairs is the rec room with the bar. Want me to show you around sometime?”

“Hey, that‟d be great. I—”

“Good day, gentlemen.”

Jack looked around and saw Mrs. Clevenger and her dog standing a few feet behind them.

How had she got there? When he‟d walked up to Walt she‟d been nowhere in sight. Now she and her mutt were practically on top of him.

“Oh, um, hi, Mrs. Clevenger.”

As usual she wore her long black dress and scarf.

“Did Walter speak to you about staying out of the Pines?”

“I told him,” Walt said. “Weezy too.”

It seemed lots of people wanted them away from the Pines to night. Didn‟t they know it was like waving a red flag before a bull?

Jack said, “Because of the equinox? What‟s so special about the equinox?”

She pursed her lips. “It‟s a time when a delicate balance is temporarily upset … things flux, and then a new balance is achieved. You do not want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during the autumnal equinox.”

Did she call that an answer?

“Excuse me, Mrs. Clevenger, but I have no idea what you just said.”

She smiled. “I‟m afraid that‟s as specific as I can get. Suffice it to say in this hemi sphere the autumnal equinox is when the dark supersedes the light, and dominates it to varying degrees for the next six months. Odd phenomena occur during the changeover.”

“Like what?”

She smiled again. “I‟m afraid „odd‟ will have to do. But consider it a gross understatement.”

Why couldn‟t she give him a straight answer? Then again, he couldn‟t remember her ever giving him a straight answer.

“Thanks,” he said. “I guess.”

She and her dog stared at him. “Heed me and stay close to home. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah. Sure. Very.”

He was about to ask her more but she turned to Walt and gripped his arm.

“I must speak to you, Walter.” She looked at Jack. “It‟s a private matter, if you don‟t mind, Jack.”

He backed away a step. “Oh, sure. That‟s okay. I‟ve got to get over to the store anyway. Later for the tour, Walt?”

“Sure, Jack, catch you later.”

I seem to be into tours lately, he thought as he moved back toward his bike—slowly … as slowly as he could, straining to hear what Mrs. Clevenger had to say. She‟d lowered her voice but he was still able to capture most of her words.

“I need you to stop this for a while.”

A quick glance back showed her tapping the cap of the bottle in his pocket.

“What for?” he said at higher volume. “You know what can happen if I do.”

“That‟s exactly why I‟m asking you to stop.”

“It‟s gonna wake up.” A hint of a whine crept into his voice. “I don‟t want to wake it up.”

Wake up what? What was he talking about?

“You may be needed in the next day or so.”

“Aw, no. You know it hurts me.”

“I do know. And I would not ask you if I did not think it very important.”

“But—”

“Would I ever try to hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then do this for me.”

A sigh. “Okay, okay. Who?”

“Someone you‟ll want to help.”

Jack reached his bike. To stall further, he squatted and pretended to fiddle with the pedals.

“Can you at least tell me when?”

“I don‟t know yet. Tomorrow, I think. I‟ll know more as the time nears. Right now it‟s all a tangle of intersecting possibilities. You might not be needed at all.”

“Wouldn‟t that be great.”

“Yes. That would be best for all concerned.”

Unable to delay any longer, Jack kicked back the stand and hopped on his bike. As he rode away, Mrs. Clevenger‟s words stayed in his head, tickling his brain. Why was she telling Walt to stop drinking? Because he might need to help someone in the next day or so? What did that mean? What kind of help? Really, Walt was a lovable guy, but he wasn‟t good for much but drinking.

Or was it simply a loony conversation between the town‟s two looniest characters?

5

Jack‟s resolve to see this through, so strong this afternoon outside the VFW post, had begun to slip with the fading of the daylight. Only Tony‟s dream words pushed him out the door and up 206 to the Vivino house.

Just as he had last night, Jack left his bike on the far side of Mr. Rosen‟s trailer, stole across his backyard, and squeezed through the hedge onto the Vivino property. He was about to settle behind the same bush when he heard Mr. Vivino‟s voice from inside. He was shouting.

Jack froze and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn‟t want to see this. He wanted to be back home in his room reading Stephen King or H. P. Lovecraft or The Spider, lost in a book where the horrors and dangers could be stopped in their tracks simply by closing the covers. Not here where real people were feeling real pain and real fear and he was powerless to help.

He felt the weight of the camcorder in his hand and realized he wasn‟t powerless.

Clenching his teeth and ignoring the crawling in his gut, Jack turned on the camcorder as he edged forward and peeked in the window where the voices seemed the loudest. He gasped when he saw Mr. Vivino behind his wife, holding her in an arm lock again and pressing her against a wall.

“I‟m sick of it, god dammit! Sick of it!”

Jack‟s hands shook as he raised the camcorder, sighted through the viewfinder, and hit the record button. A little red REC lit in the upper left-hand corner of the image just as Mr. Vivino pulled her back and then slammed her against the wall. She had her eyes squeezed shut as pain distorted her features.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to—”

“Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it!” Sally screamed as she rushed into the room and clung to her father‟s arm. “Stop-it, Daddy!”

A flick of his arm shoved her away. She tripped over her feet as she stumbled back and hit the floor.

Mrs. V screamed, “Sally!” and twisted like a tigress in her husband‟s grasp, elbowing him in the gut.

He oomph ed, but instead of letting go, he threw her to the floor and kicked her, screaming,

“Don‟t you ever hit me!”

Jack was so shaken by the violence he lost his grip on the camcorder, allowing it to slip from his grasp and clunk against the windowsill.

Mr. Vivino whirled toward the window. “Wha—? God dammit, someone‟s at the window!”

Didn‟t have to think, didn‟t have to decide—Jack spun and raced toward the hedge and dove headfirst through the branches into Mr. Rosen‟s yard. They scratched his face and caught on his clothes but he landed on the far side before Mr. Vivino saw him.

He hoped.

Over his shoulder and through the branches he saw Mr. Vivino lunge into view at the window.

“He went next door! I‟ll get the son of a—!”

He disappeared and Jack jumped to his feet. The crazy madman was coming for him!

He looked around. What to do? His first instinct was to run around to the other side of the trailer, grab his bike, and race like mad out of here. But if he tried that he risked Mr. Vivino spotting him.

Had to hide. But where?

Like last night, too early for the moon, so he had darkness on his side. He saw the big propane tank nestled against the side of the trailer. He looked under and around it but saw no space big enough to hide.

A door slammed at the Vivino house.

“I get my hands on you, I‟m gonna tear you apart!”

Oh, crap!

No place to hide on the ground, how about up? No trees—but the trailer had a flat roof.

Swinging the camcorder around so its strap encircled his throat and the cam hung between his shoulder blades, Jack hopped up on the propane tank and levered himself onto the roof where he immediately flattened himself against the damp sheet metal—just as Mr. Vivino fought his way through the hedge.

Swearing and cursing in a steady stream, he moved to the front of the trailer and started banging on the door.

“Rosen! Rosen, you nosy old bastard! Was that you? Were you peeking in my window?”

He kept pounding and shouting, but no one but Jack was listening. The only house within earshot was Mr. Vivino‟s own.

Finally he stopped, and Jack had an awful thought.

My bike!

If he searched around the other side of the house he‟d find it. He wouldn‟t recognize the BMX

as Jack‟s, but eventually he‟d find out.

But no. Muttering to himself, he headed back to his own yard. Jack didn‟t wait around as he had last night. He eased himself down to the propane tank and from there to the ground. He ran around to the other side of the trailer, grab bed his bike, and began pedaling north on 206—away from Johnson. He‟d go about a mile, then double back. He‟d look like he was returning from the circus.

The circus … He wondered if the sheriff‟s department was looking into the Michigan thing and if they‟d found anything. He was glad he‟d mentioned it to Tim. He‟d helped there.

He touched the camcorder dangling from his neck. And he could help even more here. All he had to do was find a way to let the vets see this tape at their smoker tomorrow night.

A tall order, one he had only a vague idea of how to fill.

But he‟d find a way. He owed it to Tony. But more important, he owed it to Sally and her mom.

They were the ones living through that hell.

6

Later on, back home, he hid the camcorder in his room, then went back and stuck his

head into the living room where his folks were watching Remington Steele Just another private eye show to Jack, and not a very good one, but he suspected his mother liked watching Pierce Brosnan. And Dad probably didn‟t mind looking at Stephanie Zimbalist either.

He said good night and headed for his room. He closed the door and sat on the bed. He‟d promised to meet Weezy for their equinox excursion into the Pines but didn‟t much feel like it.

After what he‟d seen to night, he wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over his head and hide. If he slept, he wouldn‟t have to think about it. But he‟d probably dream about it.

Maybe the simple, natural purity of the Barrens would clear his head.

He climbed out the

window. As he eased his bike from the garage and walked it toward the street, he wondered at the strange way events had been connecting lately.

If Weezy had never found the pyramid in the mound, Jack wouldn‟t have started digging to find another, and wouldn‟t have found the corpse. If he hadn‟t found the corpse, Freeholder Haskins might still be alive. If Mr. Haskins were alive, Mr. Vivino wouldn‟t be running for his vacant seat and wouldn‟t have visited Jack‟s house with Sally Saturday night, awakening memories of Tony. And without those memories, Jack might not have peeked into the Vivino backyard Sunday night. And if he hadn‟t done that, this tape wouldn‟t exist.

A strange sequence of events that could be traced directly back to the pyramid. So many incidents—including all those deaths—circled that mysterious little pyramid.

Where would it end? Would getting it back change things for the better? Or make them worse?

Maybe if they got it back he could convince Weezy to rebury it in the mound where they‟d found it. Put the genie back in the bottle, so to speak.

Yeah, he thought with a shake of his head. She‟ll go for that. Uh-huh.

7

They met up at the lightning tree and Weezy led him into the Pines. The bright, rising moon lit the trails while casting deep shadows beneath the trees.

“Look!” she cried after they had traveled no more than a hundred yards or so. “Lumens!”

Three pine lights, varying in size from a Ping-Pong ball to a basketball, drifted in a line along the treetops to their right, heading south.

Mr. Collingswood had mentioned them and Jack had seen some last month when those

mysterious men had been excavating the mound. No one knew what they were. He‟d heard them explained as St. Elmo‟s fire or swamp gas, even heard they were the souls of dead pineys back for a visit. Mrs. Clevenger‟s words about “odd phenomena” came back to him, and how “odd”

might be a gross understatement.

Curiosity urged him to follow, but he hesitated, hearing Walt and Mrs. Clevenger‟s warnings about being in the wrong place during the time of the equinox.

Then he saw another pair of softball-size lights skid by overhead, moving in the same direction as the others, and that clinched it.

“Let‟s go!”

Following wasn‟t easy. The firebreak trails didn‟t always match the direction of the lights, but whenever they came to a fork, they angled toward the lights. Luckily the lumens didn‟t seem to be in a terrible hurry to get wherever they were going, if anywhere. But Jack sensed a direction, almost as if they had a purpose. But of course they had no purpose. They were just balls of light.

As he and Weezy traveled, more and more lights joined the procession until they were following a couple of dozen or more. Some moved more quickly than others, zigzagging past the slower ones, like cars on a highway. They seemed to have a definite purpose now, gliding through the dark, weaving from tree to tree along the topmost branches as if following signposts.

“Jack! Isn‟t this wonderful?”

He wasn‟t so sure. He felt a gnawing sensation in his chest. Had anyone ever seen anything like this? Then he noticed the silence. The Barrens were a noisy place, with animals, birds, and insects constantly hooting and crying and chirping, the breeze rustling the bushes. All that was gone now. Even the crickets were quiet. It seemed like the whole place was holding its breath.

The good thing was he didn‟t feel threatened. The bad thing was he didn‟t know what to expect.

The thing he least expected was for their line of lights to meet up and merge with another line from the east. But it did, just up ahead of them.

They mingled awhile, then began to flow toward the south.

All except one …

A soccer-ball-size light stayed behind, then began drifting their way. Jack noticed Weezy‟s rapt expression as it neared. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. He gripped her upper arm.

“I don‟t like this.”

“I do.”

It sank to about a dozen feet off the ground and hovered before them.

“The lumen … it‟s humming, Jack! Like music.”

Jack heard a high-pitched hum. His hackles rose and his skin tingled as if the air was charged with electricity. He broke out in a cold sweat.

“Let‟s get out of here.”

But Weezy didn‟t budge, even as the lumen came closer. She reached out a hand, as if to touch it, but Jack snatched it back.

“Don‟t!”

“Why not? I— ew! It smells.”

Jack caught it too, a sour stench somewhere between stale sweat and spoiled meat. It turned his stomach and caused a growing sense of dread. He‟d smelled it before and he knew what it meant.

They weren‟t alone.

“It‟s not the lumen.”

Where was it? He gave a frantic twist left and then right, but didn‟t see anything. The stink said it was close by. Levi had said to run if he smelled it— like the hounds of hell’ re after you. But which way? Think!

Wait. If he was smelling it, that meant it was upwind. He calmed himself, stood statue still, sensing the breeze.

There—faint against the left side of his face, to the east. He turned in that direction and froze as he spotted a dark, hulking shape standing half in, half out of the shadows of the tree line. It seemed to be watching them and the lumen. Was this the thing that had chased Mr.

Collingswood up a tree?

Jack pressed a finger over Weezy‟s lips and pointed. In the glow from the lumen he saw her eyes widen and felt her stiffen as she saw the shape.

Without warning, the lumen rose and darted off toward the south, following its kind. Jack didn‟t wait to see what the shape would do.

He slapped Weezy on the back and whispered, “Go!”

They were only halfway off their bikes. He hopped the rest of the way onto his seat and began pumping the pedals for all he was worth. He heard a hiss and then something heavy crashing through the underbrush behind him as the tires of his BMX slipped and skidded in the sandy soil.

He heard Weezy whimpering in fear as her tires did the same. Finally they caught and he almost screamed with relief as he began moving.

He saw Weezy beside him, grunting with effort.

“Don‟t look back!” he said. “Just go-go-go!”

The slightest wobble in one of their front tires now could send them into a skidding crash.

But Jack looked back. He couldn‟t help it.

Something big and dark was racing his way through the moon-dappled underbrush. He couldn‟t tell if it was running in a crouch or on all fours, but it was fast and it was closing.

Jack put every ounce of strength he had into his legs, pushing as hard as he‟d ever pushed against those pedals.

“Go, Weez! Give it everything!”

At least they were headed west, toward Johnson. He just prayed they‟d make it.

Why hadn‟t he listened? When was he going to learn?

He kept pedaling, leaning over his handlebars, and urging the bike forward. He heard an angry screech but didn‟t look back. After traveling somewhere between a quarter and half a mile, and not hearing anything more behind him for a while, he chanced another glance. When he saw an empty trail, relief flooded him.

“I think we‟re safe,” he said, “but keep going.”

They didn‟t slow their pace until they reached Old Town.

“What was that?” Weezy said, panting as they coasted past the lightning tree.

Jack‟s sweat was cooling as he caught his breath.

“A bear … had to be a black bear like Tim said.”

“But it didn‟t roar or even growl.”

Right. Instead it had hissed and come after them, then screeched—probably when it had given up the chase.

“A bear,” Jack said. “A weird bear.”

“You‟re kidding yourself, Jack. That wasn‟t a bear. I‟ll bet it‟s connected to the pyramid back in the Pines.”

“Weezy—”

“Tomorrow, Jack. We‟re going out there tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But in daylight—in broad daylight.”

She laughed. “If you‟re expecting an argument from me, forget it.” She sobered. “You know …

they say Marcie Kurek ran away, but what if she wandered into the Pines and was grabbed by that thing?”

Jack shook his head. “Then I don‟t think we‟ll ever see or hear from her again.”

He followed her to her house—he wasn‟t simply going to assume she‟d get home safe as he had with Cody—and they split with a silent wave at her driveway. A few minutes later Jack coasted into his yard. He slipped in through his bedroom window, then pulled out the videotape. In the hallway he crept to the bottom of the stairs and listened. He heard the sound of the TV drifting down from his folks‟ room. They tended to watch the eleven o‟clock news, followed by Johnny Carson‟s monologue on The Tonight Show, then shut down and call it a day.

He stole to the downstairs TV, turned it on, then the videotape player, but lowered the sound to zero. He inserted the tape, rewound, and hit PLAY. As soon as the scene of Mr. Vivino with his wife in an arm lock lit the screen, Jack stopped. He couldn‟t bear to watch it again, but had to be sure he‟d caught the incident before proceeding to the next step.

He rewound the cassette to its beginning and ejected it. After turning off the TV and the player, he hid the tape in his room.

What a day. He wanted to talk to someone about it, but couldn‟t mention taping the Vivinos to

anyone. And as for what he‟d witnessed with Weezy, his dad would go ballistic if he knew he‟d been in the Pines at night. He didn‟t like him in there during the day.

He went to the window and stared out at the starlit sky. Looked like a long night ahead.

THURSDAY

1

The videotape cassette had been burning a hole through Jack‟s backpack all day at

school. Or at least it felt that way. Now at last, after a seeming eternity, he was returning to Johnson.

He‟d found it almost infinitely difficult to wave to Sally and Mrs. V this morning as they waited across the street at the elementary bus stop. She‟d stood there in her dark glasses and long-sleeved blouse, seeming to pierce him with her gaze as if she knew.

Did she? No way. He‟d been out in the dark, she‟d been inside in the light. She couldn‟t have seen him.

So why had she been staring at him?

Maybe she hadn‟t. Maybe just staring through him and thinking of a better life, a life without her husband.

Once in school Jack had hidden the cassette at the rear of his locker‟s top shelf. He‟d checked on it a number of times during the course of the day. He didn‟t know why he was so paranoid.

No one but he knew it existed.

He stepped off the bus and headed directly to the VFW post. This was it: Do or die. He had to find a way to get this onto the screen to night. If he failed he‟d have to wait until the next smoker. He couldn‟t bear the thought of Sally and her mother suffering through another month of what he‟d seen last night.

When he reached the post he found the front door wide open. The smell of strong detergent wafted from within.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

No answer.

Almost too good to be true to find the place open and empty. He could just waltz down to the rec room and do his thing—whatever that might turn out to be.

He stepped inside and called again.

“Hello?”

To his dismay, a familiar voice, accompanied by the sound of feet on stairs, answered.

“I‟m coming, I‟m coming.” Walt appeared from a stairwell and smiled when he saw Jack. “Hey, man. What‟s up?”

“I‟m cashing in my rain check for the tour.”

“Oh, hey, I was just about to start mopping the floor downstairs and—”

“Just a quick look?”

As Walt hesitated, Jack noticed that his eyes were clearer than he‟d ever seen them.

Then he remembered: Mrs. Clevenger asked him to stop drinking. With all that had gone on since yesterday afternoon, Jack had forgotten about the conversation he‟d overheard.

She‟d wanted him to stop because he might be “needed.” What did she expect Walt to do?

What ever, it looked like he‟d listened to her. Jack noticed that his gloved hands were shaking.

Nervous? Or did he need a drink?

Walt shrugged then. “Sure. Why not?”

Jack suffered through the ground-floor tour—what did he care about the meeting room and the office? Finally Walt led him down to where he wanted to be: the basement.

At the moment the rec room was a big open space with a bare floor of dirty vinyl tile. A mahogany bar with beer spigots up front and mirrored shelves behind ran three-quarters the length of one wall. A TV sat on a low cabinet under a squat window. All the chairs and tables were stacked in a corner. A battered wringer bucket sat in the middle of the floor with a mop handle jutting toward the ceiling.

Walt gestured to the space. “I don‟t know why they want the floor mopped before the

smokers—these guys are real slobs when it comes to keeping beer in their cups. But if that‟s what they want, that‟s what they get.”

Jack wandered over to the TV cabinet and opened the doors. He wanted to make sure he‟d heard Mr. Bainbridge right about the new VCR.

“What‟s up, Jack?” he heard Walt say behind him.

“Just checking out your electronics.”

Yep. There it sat: a brand-new Panasonic. And next to it a couple of videotape boxes labeled

Electric Lady and Pizza Girls with scantily clad women on the covers. He tore his gaze away from them as something clicked in his brain. He looked back at the tape player and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the three letters following the brand logo.

VHS

“No!”

He checked again. No mistake. It said VHS and the tape slot was definitely too big.

“Something wrong, Jack? You okay?”

He was anything but okay, and something was definitely and terribly wrong as he realized what he‟d done.

I screwed up! All that risk for nothing!

He‟d recorded the Vivinos on a Betamax cassette. It wouldn‟t play on a VHS.

“I‟m okay,” he managed to say. “Just remembered something I‟d forgotten.” He turned and started for the door. “I‟ll finish the tour later.”

“Ain‟t nothin‟ left to see.”

Jack didn‟t reply as he hurried upstairs and out into the fresh air.

“Jerk!” he whispered as he broke into a trot up Quakerton Road. “You complete jerk!”

Mr. Rosen had bought a Betamax camcorder—that was why it had been cheap. Jack had been so tickled to have a video camera at his disposal, he hadn‟t paid attention to what kind. And why should he, considering the VCR in his own house was a Beta?

Dad‟s doing. Years ago he‟d bought a Betamax, supposedly better than the competing VHS

model. Maybe it was, but it lost out to the other format because VHS tapes recorded longer. So most folks used VHS these days.

But not Dad. He insisted Betamax was better and refused to switch until the current machine died. Why change if it recorded and played back and did everything a VCR should?

So of course the Vivino tape had played perfectly on his home machine last night—a Beta cassette in a Beta player.

But it would not play on the VFW machine.

He had to find some way to turn this around.

2

“Hey, I don‟t know, Jack,” Eddie said.

“Just for thirty minutes,” Jack said as he went about

disconnecting the Connell family‟s VCR from their TV. “Not a second longer, I swear.”

“But I still don‟t get why you need it.”

“Just running a little experiment between Beta and VHS.”

In a way that was true. Sort of. Not so much an experiment as a desperate, last-ditch effort to salvage Operation Vivino.

“What kind of experiment?”

“I‟ll let you know if it works.” He finished unscrewing the VCR‟s coaxial cable. “Until then, have you got a blank tape I can borrow? I‟ll replace it later.”

Eddie fished in a drawer and came up with one still in the wrapper.

Perfect.

“Need any help?”

“That‟s okay. You hang here and I‟ll be right back.”

Tucking the VCR under his arm, Jack hurried out the front door toward home. He wanted to run but didn‟t dare risk dropping the Connells‟ VCR—a VHS model.

The only good thing so far about today was that it was another of his mother‟s volunteer days at the hospital. He had the house to himself until she came home. He wasn‟t exactly sure when that would be so he had to hurry.

Once inside he dropped to his knees before the Betamax—already partially unhooked—and went to work.

First, he plugged in the VHS and attached the cable from its input to the Beta‟s output. Then he unwrapped the new VHS tape, inserted it, and hit the record button. The Vivino tape was already in the Betamax, so all he had to do was hit PLAY.

He waited ten minutes—the scene he‟d caught hadn‟t lasted even five—then rewound and ejected the tape. After stuffing it in his backpack, he ran outside, hopped on his bike, and began pedaling like mad.

3

“Please be there,” Jack muttered as he rolled up the front walk. His heart sank as he saw the door closed, but he leaped off his bike, letting it fall, and ran up to the front door. He tried the knob and found it open. “Walt?” he called, stepping inside. “You still here?”

“Still here,” came a voice from the stairwell. “Come on down.”

Jack did just that and found Walt starting to drag a table across the floor. Jack

leaped to his side.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Now that the floor‟s finally dry,” Walt said as they carried it to the center of the room, “time to move everything back. This one goes right here. Thanks, Jack.” “No

problem. You need help with the rest?”

“That‟s okay.”

“Hey, I‟m here. Why not?”

Walt grinned. “Okay. Appreciate that.”

As Jack helped drag chairs and tables to wherever Walt said they belonged, his

gaze kept drifting to the VCR cabinet. He had to find a way to get in there again.

They

were maybe three-quarters finished when a woman‟s voice echoed down the stairwell.

“Walter? May I speak with you a moment?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Mrs. Clevenger.” Walt looked at Jack and shrugged. He looked worried. “Be right there.”

“Go ahead,” Jack said, fighting a grin of triumph. “Take your time. I‟ll finish up.”

As much as Jack would have loved to know what those two were talking about, he had other priorities. So as soon as Walt was out of sight, he grabbed the tape from his backpack and flew to the VCR cabinet. He opened the doors and dumped the Electric Lady tape out of its box, then replaced it with his own. His had no label, but he could only hope no one noticed or cared. He snapped it shut and replaced it in the cabinet.

Now … what to do with the real tape? He‟d have loved to take it home and watch it, but he couldn‟t play it on his machine. So he slipped it behind the cabinet. Walt was done with moving furniture for the day, so it would be safe for the present.

But the tape he‟d replaced it with … he hadn‟t had time to check it, so he didn‟t even know if the video transfer had been successful. For all he knew, they‟d be showing a blank tape to night.

By the time Walt returned, Jack had all the chairs arranged around the tables.

Walt beamed. “You‟re a real good guy, Jack, y‟know that?”

“Nothing to it. Um, what did Mrs. C want?”

His smile vanished and he looked uneasy. “Not much. She just wants me to hang around somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Just … around.”

Jack could see he was uncomfortable and decided not to push. Besides, he had to get home and straighten out the VCR mess he‟d left behind before his mom got home.

“Hey, what time‟s the smoker start?”

“Oh, guys start wandering in around seven-thirty, but things usually don‟t get rolling till about eight. Why? No way you can get in.”

“Just curious.”

Jack glanced at the little window above the TV. He knew where he‟d be come eight o‟clock.

But before that, he and Weezy had a date with a pyramid.

4

They rode toward the Pines, each with a short-handle spade-shovel from his garage held across their handlebars. The sun was sinking but they had better than an hour and a half of light left. Plenty of time.

Passing the lightning tree, he saw Gus Sooy‟s pickup. He and Walt were leaning against the rear side panel. Walt wasn‟t drinking and wasn‟t getting a bottle filled, just seemed to be talking. They both waved and Jack and Weezy waved back.

Was this where Mrs. Clevenger had told Walt to hang out? Was this where he‟d be

“needed”? For what?

He shook his head. He‟d probably never know.

As they neared the spong they picked up speed—they wanted to be a swiftly moving target if that piney started throwing rocks again. But as they passed, Jack saw no sticks jutting toward the sky.

“That piney must have reset his traps,” Weezy said.

“And it looks like Mrs. Clevenger hasn‟t got to them yet. Think we should … ?”

Weezy shook her head. “Maybe on the way back. We‟ll need all the light we can get at the pyramid.”

Jack wondered again what would happen if the piney caught Mrs. C springing his traps. She was just an old lady, but that dog of hers, even with three legs, looked like he could inflict a world of hurt on anyone messing with his owner.

They reached the burned-out area and made their way past the ruined mound to the pyramid.

The clearing was eerily silent as Jack checked out the ground for fresh tracks. He found none of any sort, and even the old ones they‟d seen before were gone, erased by multiple rains.

They hopped over the low stone wall and squeezed through one of the gaps between the megaliths.

The floor of the cage—if that was what the pyramid was—was no longer underwater, but the sand was still wet. Any trace that he and Weezy had stood here on Saturday was gone. Weezy walked to the four-foot stone post in the center and again traced her fingers along the six-sided indentation in its top.

“If we had the little pyramid we could fit it in here and see what happens.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe the sunlight during the equinox hits it at a certain angle and …”

“What? We go back in time?”

She smiled. “Never know.”

“Until then …” Jack looked around. “Where do we start?”

She shrugged. “Anywhere, I guess.”

He chose a random spot near the center post and began to dig straight down. Weezy did the same a half dozen feet away.

“I‟ve got a suspicion about this place,” she said. “If it‟s modeled on the little pyramid we found, it should have a base. With all the sand in the Barrens‟ soil, water percolates through pretty quickly. The standing water in here back on Saturday tells me something was slowing its absorption.”

Sure enough—four feet down Jack hit granite. The seventh side. And no doubt carved into its surface somewhere was the seventh symbol—just like on the baby pyramid.

Panting a little and sweating a lot, he took a break. He hadn‟t paid much attention to what he‟d been digging out of the hole, so he turned to that now. Using the side edge of the spade he ran it back and forth over the excavated sand, slowly smoothing it out. And as he did, little bones began to appear.

“Hey, Weez! Look!”

She hurried over and picked up a few for a closer look.

“Not bones. Just pieces—splinters, really.”

“How—?”

Then he noticed a larger fragment in the wall of the hole he‟d dug. He scraped away the sand packed around it and found it bigger than he‟d thought. He yanked on it …

And came away with part of a leg bone.

“Ew!” Weezy said, recoiling.

“It‟s okay. Not human. Deer.”

It ran about eighteen inches long and was very slim. During the course of his countless trips into the Pines, Jack had come across a number of dead deer rotted down to their skeletons. From its angled, ball-tipped end he knew what this was.

“A thigh bone. But look. The lower end‟s broken off.”

Weezy leaned closer. “Hey, that looks gnawed off. See those scrapes into the bone? They look like teeth marks.”

Jack looked around. “How did a deer get in here?”

Weezy gripped his arm. “Jack! What ever was caged here needed food. It would have been fed by its keepers. The Pines were full of deer. What ever it was must have eaten every last lick of flesh and then gone after the marrow.”

Jack looked at the shattered bones and deep teeth marks.

“Strong jaws, sharp teeth.”

No question about it now—this structure had been used as a cage. But why so massive?

What had called this place home? Obviously a carnivore, but had it been native to the Pinelands, or had someone imported it? And when? This cage had been here a long time.

Weezy‟s eyes danced with excitement. “Let‟s keep digging. No telling what we‟ll find.”

But after half an hour or so, shifting their dig sites three times, they‟d found nothing but more animal bones. He‟d gone about two feet down in his latest dig when the tip of the spade hit something—something bigger than the small bones he‟d been finding. He widened the hole and dug around it.

It seemed to be curved, like some sort of arch. He worked his fingers around it, got a grip, and pulled. With a wrench it came free and he found himself holding a jawbone.

He dropped it when he realized it was human.

“Weez! Check it out!”

She hurried over and together they knelt and stared at it. Jack found himself nowhere near as grossed out as he‟d have thought he‟d be. But then again, this wasn‟t the first time he‟d been through something like this. Yeah, he‟d felt a shock, but nothing like when he‟d pulled that skull from the mound.

Funny how he‟d been thinking just last night about how things seemed to be going in circles, all revolving around the little pyramid, and here he was inside the big pyramid doing the same thing.

With this skull—or part of one—another circle had closed.

“Wh-who could this be?” Weezy said. “It looks so much older than the one in the mound.”

Yeah, it did. Not a shred of flesh left on it. And the teeth—browned, cracked, and not a single filling.

For some reason he thought of poor Cody. Chances of finding him alive seemed about zero.

Someday someone might be digging in the pines and come up with his little skull.

Jack thrust the thought away and focused on the bone before them.

“Where‟s the rest of it? And what‟s it doing in here?”

He dug further and only an inch or so down found upper teeth and the roof of the mouth—the skull was buried upside down. No fillings in the upper teeth either. He cleaned more off, then worked his fingers around it and pulled the skull free.

“Oh my god!” Weezy cried as he turned it over.

Both stared in shock at the ragged hole in the top of the cranium. Whoever this had been, it looked like his skull had been crushed—cracked open.

She pointed to the edges of the opening. “Are those … ?”

Jack looked closer and felt his gut writhe when he saw the gouges around the hole. Just like the tooth marks on the deer bones.

Something had been gnawing at this skull—maybe even ate the brain inside. Sure. Why else chew on a skull?

Now Jack was grossed out. He dropped the skull back into the hole and rose to his feet.

“You think … you think that could have been some sort of human sacrifice?”

Weezy was on her feet too, shaking her head. “Maybe one of the keepers got too close at feeding time.”

What had gone on here? No question that something with big sharp teeth had been caged in this space, but what?

His neck tingled and he did a quick turn to see if someone was watching. Just his imagination, maybe? He‟d been thinking about the captive just now and then he‟d got that sensation.

“What‟s wrong?” Weezy said.

“Nothing.”

He didn‟t want to alarm her. He walked the inside perimeter, peering out at the surrounding trees through one gap after another. No sign of anyone. Or anything.

But the sensation remained.

Thunder rumbled.

Jack shot a look at the sky and saw that the sun was gone and thunderheads were piling in the west. When had that happened? They must have been so engrossed in their digging they‟d failed to notice.

“Are you thinking about that thing that chased us last night?”

He turned to Weezy. “You mean the bear?”

“I mean the thing.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He cupped his hands to boost her out of the cage. “Let‟s get out of here.”

She looked relieved. “Took the words right out of my mouth. So much for this pyramid. From now on we concentrate on getting the little one back. But when we do, I‟m bringing it back here and setting it in the top of that center column—just to see what happens.”

As he boosted her up, he said, “Anyone ever tell you that you have a one-track mind?”

“Yeah. I‟ve heard that.” She squeezed between two megaliths and turned to offer her hand. “But the truth is I have a multi-track mind. It‟s just that one track‟s been getting a lot more use than the others lately.”

Tell me about it, Jack thought.

5

They beat the storm home by minutes. Jack got in just before his mother and polished off his homework before his father arrived.

The storm was over by the time he finished dinner. He threw on a green Eagles sweatshirt and announced that he was going to take a ride over to the Connells‟. Which he did: He rode his bike over to their house, into their driveway, and immediately out again.

Jack hated to lie.

He rode down Quakerton, dodging puddles as he headed for USED. He noticed half a dozen cars parked in front of the VFW, and spotted Walt standing by the front door. He wasn‟t keen on announcing his presence, but he wanted a closer look at him. “Walt?” he said, strolling up the walk.

“Huh?” Walt turned and grinned. “Hey, Jack. I hope you don‟t think you‟re gettin‟ in.”

In the light from the front of the post Jack could see that Walt‟s eyes were still clear. Did that mean he might still be “needed”?

“Nah. I don‟t smoke.”

Walt laughed. “Good one.”

More cars were pulling up and parking, more vets strolling into the post. If Mr. Bainbridge appeared and spotted Jack, he‟d for sure mention it to his father. Best to get out of sight.

He waved and headed back to his bike. “See ya.”

He rode across the street to USED where he parked in the shadows alongside the store. He watched the VFW from those shadows until cars stopped pulling up and the front door closed.

Then he stole across the street and around to the rear of the post.

The backyard was dark, making it easy to find the basement window: He simply followed the light. Someone had opened it for ventilation and air laden with cigar stink wafted out.

Jack knelt for a look and immediately felt the moisture from the wet grass soak through the knees of his jeans. Crap. He should have thought of that. He bent forward and found himself overlooking the TV set.

A motley group of mixed ages, shapes, and sizes: World War II vets in their late fifties and early sixties, fiftyish Korean survivors like his father and Mr. Bainbridge, and the Vietnam vets in their late thirties and early forties. They all had one thing in common: They‟d made it through the fire of war. The experience bonded them. They seemed genuinely to like each other.

Smoke layered the air as some stood around smiling and talking, beers in one hand and stogies in the other, while others sat at the tables shuffling cards or counting out chips.

Boys’ night out…

He spotted Mr. Vivino in the mix. Jack bet his wife and daughter were glad he was out having a good time and not beating on them. He watched him move through the crowd, grinning,

laughing, shaking hands. Mr. Politician. Mr. Freeholder-to-be.

We‟ll see about that.

Jack backed away a bit when he saw Mr. Bainbridge approach. He bent and disappeared behind the top of the TV. From this angle Jack couldn‟t see what he was doing, but guessed he‟d opened the cabinet doors. Half a minute later he rose and turned to the crowd.

“All right,” he said, holding up the cassette boxes. “Which do we want— Pizza Girls or Electric Lady?”

Jack tried to project his thoughts through the window: Electric Lady… Electric Lady… Electric Lady…

“Pizza Girls!” someone cried.

“Yeah!” said another voice. “Pizza Girls!”

A chorus of “Pizza Girls!” followed.

No-no-no-no!

“Pizza Girls it is!”

Jack suppressed a groan as Mr. Bainbridge popped open the box and pulled out the cassette. He realized then he‟d made an awful mistake. He had no idea how long these movies ran. What if they showed only one per smoker? He should have hidden Pizza Girls behind the cabinet with the Electric Lady cassette. Then they would have had to play Jack‟s tape.

And worse, he still didn‟t know if his copying had been successful.

He wanted to kick something.

6

Jack paced the dark, narrow aisles of USED. He‟d let himself in but left the lights off so he could hang out while the film was running. Every twenty minutes or so he‟d sneak over for a peek into the basement. So far, the same every time: some watching the TV and making wisecracks, some playing cards, some in deep conversation. He‟d seen Mr. Vivino and Mr.

Bishop, the local lawyer and proud father of blubber-butt Teddy, with their heads together. They looked like they were planning a revolution.

The one thing Jack could never see was the TV screen, so he had no idea what the men were watching. At this point, he didn‟t care. He just wanted it to be over so they could move on to the main attraction.

He stopped at the store counter and grabbed the flashlight Mr. Rosen kept there. He

flashed it on one of the clocks. It had been an hour or so since the film started. He doubted it was over yet but guessed he should check again anyway. Who knew? Maybe the tape would jam and they‟d start the next film early.

Once more he hurried across the street to the rear of the post. As he peeked in the

window he spotted Mr. Bainbridge approaching the TV.

“I think that deserves an Academy Award, don‟t you?” he said to his buddies.

Some laughed, some clapped, some kept talking, and the card players barely looked up from their hands. Mr. Vivino and Mr. Bishop still plotted in the rear of the room.

Mr. Bainbridge ducked out of sight, then reappeared holding another cassette box.

“Okay!” he announced. “For our next Oscar contender we have Electric Lady!”

This was greeted by halfhearted cheers and clapping from the vets, and a silent fist pump from Jack.

Yes!

He settled onto his already wet knees and sent up a prayer that there‟d be something on that tape.

Mr. Bainbridge stuck his cigar in his mouth and pulled out the unlabeled cassette. He frowned as he turned it back and forth in his hand.

Put it in the machine, Jack thought. Just. Put. It. In.

Finally he shrugged and did just that.

“Okay! Electric Lady—here we go!”

A few scattered claps amid the chatter and then he stepped to the side and watched. Jack couldn‟t see the screen, only Mr. Bainbridge‟s face. But soon enough, if Jack‟s copy had been successful, that face would tell the story.

He studied his expression. The smiling anticipation changed to a puzzled frown. But that didn‟t mean much—if Jack‟s tape was blank, that was how he‟d react.

Jack watched the frown deepen as the squinty eyes widened and the cigar slipped from loose lips and fell to the floor.

Jack tightened his fists. He could think of only one thing that would cause that sort of reaction.

The video had transferred.

And then he heard the voice from the TV‟s speakers.

“I’m sick of it , god dammit! Sick of it!”

Mr. Bainbridge gaped. “What the … ?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to—”

“Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it! Stop-it, Daddy!”

He wasn‟t the only one noticing something wrong. A couple of the men who were seated up front lost their grins as the reaction began to spread through the room like ripples from a stone dropped in a still pond.

“Sally!”

One of the card players noticed and nudged the guys on either side. A player with his back to the screen turned. And then farther into the room people stopped talking and stared at the screen.

Gradually the room became a silent sea of stunned faces.

“Don’t you ever hit me!”

Only Mr. Vivino and Mr. Bishop, against the back wall, continued talking. Eventually they must have realized something was wrong because they clammed up and looked around.

“Wha—?God dammit, someone’s at the window!”

Jack focused on Mr. Vivino‟s face … watched the blood drain from it as his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.

“What the hell is that?” he shouted.

“Well, if I didn‟t know better,” one of the card players said, “I‟d say that was you beating the crap out of Cathy.”

Mr. Vivino let out a cry like an enraged animal and charged the TV with his arms extended before him, fingers curved into claws.

“Gimme that tape! Gimme that tape!”

But he never reached the set. Hands grabbed him and stopped him. He fought, he twisted, but a grim-faced pair of his fellow vets held him back from the machine.

“Who did this?” he shouted. “Who‟s the Peeping Tom son of a bitch who did this?”

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” said Mr. Bishop, pushing to the front. “I only caught the end there. What‟s this all about?”

“Rewind it, Kurt,” someone said. “I missed it too.”

Mr. Bainbridge bent and reached forward. “I could do with another look myself. Not sure I believe what I saw the first time.”

“Don‟t!” Mr. Vivino cried, trying again to struggle free. “It‟s a lie! It‟s a fake!”

When Mr. Bainbridge straightened, he had his cigar again. He stepped back to join the rest of the vets who‟d crowded forward in a tight, three-deep semicircle before the TV, their eyes fixed on the screen.

Jack didn‟t need to see. The scene was burned onto his brain. The voices conjured the visuals.

Mrs. Vin the painful arm lock…slammed against the wall…

The vets‟ faces became grimmer.

Sally rushing up…getting knocked down.

Gasps from some of the vets.

Aldo Vivino kicking his wife.

The hardened vets wincing.

Finally the angry shout about seeing someone at the window … end of video, end of story.

Dead silence in the room as all turned shocked gazes toward Mr. Vivino.

Finally Mr. Bainbridge spoke: “Al … Al, my God, you kicked Cathy? Kicked her? What the hell‟s wrong with you?”

Mr. Vivino wrenched free and lunged toward the TV, screaming, “Gimme that tape! Gimme that goddamn tape!”

Mr. Bainbridge swung a fist that caught him in the gut. Jack winced as the man doubled over and sank to one knee.

“I don‟t think so,” Mr. Bainbridge said.

After catching his breath, Mr. Vivino rose to his feet. He was pale and sweaty and looked somehow smaller as he licked his lips and darted quick looks left and right.

“Hey, guys, it‟s not what it looks like.”

“I think it‟s exactly what it looks like,” Mr. Bainbridge said in a voice dripping with scorn.

“We‟re soldiers, Al. Women and children are noncombatants.”

This brought a chorus of agreement from the other vets.

Jack realized that they had started off the evening as comrades in arms, good-buddy veterans of foreign wars. That had changed. They were now husbands and fathers, and they were sickened and angry.

“And you know what?” Mr. Bainbridge said, getting in Vivino‟s face. “You‟re not going home to night. „Cause if you do, you‟ll probably take it out on Cathy. So Evelyn and I are going over, and we‟ll stay there all night if we have to.”

Mr. Bishop stepped forward. “I cannot believe this, Al. I can not believe it!”

“Hey, you know how it is.”

Mr. Bishop reddened. “I know no such thing. I‟m going to help Cathy get a restraining order against you. And as for that tape, I‟m delivering it to dye-fuss first thing tomorrow.”

Dye-fuss? Jack thought.

Then he got it: DYFS—Division of Youth and Family Services. They dealt with cases of child abuse.

“No!” Mr. Vivino wailed. “You can‟t do this!”

Jack had heard enough. He rose, brushed off his knees, then his hands.

What was that expression? My work here is done.

He felt strange. He hadn‟t known if his plan would work, but he‟d expected to feel happy and satisfied if it had.

Well, it had worked out perfectly: Mr. Vivino‟s abuse had been exposed and his name was mud.

He wouldn‟t be beating on Sally and her mom anymore.

So why didn‟t he feel great?

7

Jack‟s mind was elsewhere as he pulled his bike out from beside USED. He was just

starting up Quakerton Road when he was startled by a screech of tires. He looked up and saw the grille of a Bentley inches from his front wheel.

The window rolled down and a familiar voice spoke from within. “You almost dented my car.”

Jack walked his bike to the window. “Sorry, Mister Drexler.”

His sharp-featured face floated into view. “Even worse, if you‟d broken a leg I‟d

have to find a new groundskeeper.”

Groundskeeper … was that what he was?

“Wouldn‟t want to put you to extra trouble.”

“Speaking of grounds keeping, I‟m awaiting an invoice for your services.” “Invoice … is that like a bill?”

The thin lips curved ever so slightly upward. “Very much like a bill. In fact,

exactly like a bill.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Jack had never billed anyone in his life, but he was sure his father would know

what to do.

The window rose and the car glided away.

As Jack watched it go he realized the Lodge was empty now—or at least would

be for a while.

And it had no alarm system.

And the pyramid was probably back in its spot on the mantel.

And his luck had been running high today.

Still, he hesitated. A big step. Sneaking into the Lodge meant breaking the law,

risking arrest. But he and Weezy had as much right to that pyramid as anyone—maybe

more. And maybe getting it back would take Weezy off the emotional roller coaster she was riding. If nothing else, she‟d stop talking about it. That would be a relief.

Do it, he thought.

If not now, when? He was feeling nearly invincible tonight. Now … it had to be now.

He headed back to USED for the lock-pick kit.

8

Thunder rumbled as they approached the rear of the Lodge.

“Why are we walking?”

Eddie whined. “That‟s why God gave us bikes—so we don‟t have to walk.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Weezy said, “that we can‟t leave three bikes outside.”

“Oh, yeah. Duh on me.”

Jack led the way. He‟d been here only a little while ago to pick the lock. He hadn‟t said anything about that because he didn‟t want word of that particular skill getting around. He could have sneaked in and found the pyramid on his own—if it was still here—but he‟d made a deal with Weezy.

…we’ll do it together…

“See?” he said. “All the lights are off and the car‟s gone.”

“But how do we get in?”

“I don‟t know.” He pointed to the back door. “Maybe they forgot to lock up. You heard Mister Drexler: No alarm system because why would anyone want to rob the place? Didn‟t seem to worry much about a break-in. Try the door.”

Weezy grabbed the knob, twisted, and the door swung inward.

“What?”

Jack looked first at Eddie, then Weezy. He couldn‟t make out their faces in the darkness.

Then lightning flashed. Instinctively he jumped, but the flash illuminated their uncertain expressions.

“Hey,” he said as thunder followed. “We‟re here. We‟ve come this far. The least we should do is take a quick look to see if the pyramid‟s inside.”

“Okay,” Weezy said, her voice tight. “Let‟s do it.”

Jack turned to Eddie. “You with us?”

A long pause, then, “Okay, as long as you can guarantee we‟re not gonna see Gargamel in the white suit.”

“Mister Drexler?” Jack laughed. “I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“All right. But if I go in with you guys, it‟s just for a look because, I mean, I don‟t know any kid who‟s been inside the Lodge.”

“But you can‟t blab about it,” Weezy said. “This isn‟t legal. You could get us all in trouble.”

“I won‟t say a word. Just want to go inside so I can say—just to myself and nobody else, okay?—that I‟ve been inside. But when it comes time to snatch back your baby pyramid, I‟m outta here. Don‟t want anything to do with that.”

“Fine. Whatever. Let‟s get in and get out and get home.”

Jack stepped inside and turned on the flashlight from USED. He held the door for Weezy and Eddy, then closed it behind them. The other two each had flashlights of their own and turned them on.

“Keep the beams toward the floor,” Jack said. “We don‟t want anyone spotting the light.”

Lightning lit the windows as he started into the kitchen.

“That‟s it,” Eddie said. “I‟m done.”

Jack turned to him. “What?”

“I‟m here, I‟m inside, that‟s all I wanted. You two can go get your pyramid. I‟m history. See you at home.”

With that he turned and slipped out the back door. It had started to rain.

Weezy seemed to waver, then said, “Let‟s go.”

He led her to the front room where he swept his flash beam across the mantel, stopping when it found the pyramid.

Lightning lit the room as he heard Weezy gasp.

“They put it back! It‟s here! It‟s really here!”

“It sure is.” When Weezy didn‟t move, just stood there staring, he added, “Go ahead. Take it.

It‟s yours.”

She handed him her flashlight, and he stuck it in his back pocket. Then he watched as she took the pyramid from the mantel and cradled it in her arms like a baby. She gazed down at it a moment, then looked up at Jack. Were those tears in her eyes?

“I can‟t believe it,” she said in a hushed tone that seemed to teeter on the edge of a sob. “It‟s back … I‟ve got it back. And they‟re never taking it away again.”

Fine with Jack. The sooner they were out of the Lodge, the better.

“Let‟s go then.”

Feeling jubilant, he trained his flash beam on the floor and led Weezy toward the back door.

They‟d done it. No doubt about it—today was his day.

But as they were stepping into the kitchen, light flashed through the windows. But not lightning this time—headlights, swinging around to the rear of the Lodge.

“Oh no!” Weezy cried as a car pulled up to the back door. “Someone‟s here!”

Jack dashed to a window and peeked out. His knees wobbled when he saw the Bentley.

Mr. Drexler was back!

As Eggers stepped out into the rain, Jack rushed back to Weezy.

“We‟ve got to get out of here!”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the front room where he found the door locked. No time to pick the double-key dead bolt.

Trapped!

“Jack!” Weezy wailed. “What do we do?”

Only one option.

“Hide!”

He led her to the stairs but decided against the second floor. That might be just where Eggers was headed. He tugged on the door to the basement Weezy had opened the other day. Mr.

Drexler had mentioned it was used as a storage area.

“In here! Quick!”

They stepped onto a small landing and closed the door behind them. Weezy huddled against him. He could feel her trembling.

“I‟m scared, Jack.”

So was Jack, but he didn‟t say so.

“We‟ll be okay.” He was trying very hard to believe that. “What‟s the worst that could happen?

We‟re just trespassing. We‟re not vandals. We haven‟t hurt anything. And we haven‟t left yet, so no one can accuse us of stealing.” He forced a soft laugh. “We‟ll just be grounded for life.”

She squeezed his arm. “Don‟t you understand? We‟re not dealing with regular folks. This is the Septimus Order. They make their own rules.”

Jack heard the back door open. He recognized Eggers‟s voice, but he seemed to be speaking in German. No … it sounded like he was cursing in German.

Jack put his lips close to Weezy‟s ear. “Maybe we‟d be better off at the bottom of the steps.”

He turned on the flashlight and together they tiptoed down to the basement. Once they reached the floor he swept the beam around the big, windowless space and found it full of old furniture.

He couldn‟t help thinking how Mr. Rosen would have a field day down here.

“What do you mean about the Order making its own rules? How do you know?”

“I‟ve read a lot. You know that. No one‟s actually come out and said anything, but they‟ve hinted that the Septimus Order does not play nice with people who get in their way or ask too many questions.”

“What‟s that mean?”

“Troublemakers simply aren‟t seen anymore. They go away. They disappear.”

A chill rippled over Jack‟s skin, but he shook it off. Mr. Drexler wouldn‟t …

He realized he really didn‟t know what Mr. Drexler would do. He was soft-spoken and

mannerly, but he also seemed cold and unfeeling. He was the Order‟s “actuator.” He made things happen. If he saw Jack and Weezy as a threat, would he make them disappear?

He shook off another chill. That sounded crazy. Still … he didn‟t want to find out.

Just then, stomping footsteps rattled the ceiling. Eggers—or someone else up there—was mad about something. With a start Jack realized what it was.

“He might think someone‟s inside,” he whispered.

Weezy gripped his arm. “Why?”

“The back door was unlocked. And maybe he‟s noticed the pyramid‟s gone.”

Weezy‟s grip tightened. “What if he searches down here?”

Just what Jack was thinking.

“Let‟s find a hiding place.”

He pulled Weezy‟s flashlight from his back pocket and handed it to her. Together they started walking the narrow lanes between the stacks of furniture, searching for a secluded spot. Jack found a big armoire and pulled open the doors. He flashed his light around the empty interior.

“No sign of Narnia,” he said.

“I wish.”

He glanced at her. “Big enough for two.”

She shook her head. “I couldn‟t stay in there. It‟s too …”

“I thought Eddie was the claustrophobic one.”

“He is. But hiding in there in a dark cellar in the Lodge of all places … I don‟t think I can. I need to be someplace where I can hear and see.”

Urgency propelled Jack as he flashed his beam around. Behind the armoire sat a low, wide, sturdy-looking table with what appeared to be Chinese lettering along its edges. It was backed against a leather couch and its other side rested against the rear of a bureau, leaving only one side open.

He focused his beam on the space beneath. “How about under there? If we scrunch up way toward the rear we should be really hard to find.”

Weezy stared for a heartbeat or two, then nodded.

“Okay. But you first.”

Swell.

But he understood: ladies first—unless there might be spiders.

He knelt and did a quick inspection. No black widows hanging out, just a thick layer of dust and some cobwebs. He crawled under, and Weezy followed. Jack turned out his flashlight and Weezy did the same. Side by side, with the pyramid sitting between them, they crouched in the cramped, cool darkness.

Weezy whispered, “How will we know—?”

The lights came on.

Weezy grabbed his hand and squeezed.

9

They waited. And waited. It was becoming excruciating—physically as well as

emotionally.

Physically because Weezy was squeezing his hand so hard his fingers were going numb.

Emotionally because the light had come on and stayed on and no one had come downstairs.

Was Eggers or Mr. Drexler standing at the top and listening? Jack wanted to whisper to Weezy to ease up on his hand but didn‟t dare. Didn‟t want even to breathe, but had no choice in that.

Finally it came: footsteps on the stairs.

Someone with a heavy tread—had to be Eggers—stomped down to the basement and began

stalking its aisles. Weezy squeezed even harder as the footsteps approached. Jack saw black shoes and black pants cuffs appear and stop right in front of their table.

Eggers. Mr. Drexler was wearing his usual white suit when Jack had last seen him … not quite an hour ago.

Not daring to move his head, Jack glanced at Weezy out of the corner of his eye. Her face was ashen and her eyes were squeezed shut. She wasn‟t breathing. But then, neither was Jack. He could feel the sweat gathering in his armpits.

The shoes moved on but Jack didn‟t dare let out the breath he‟d been holding, not until they‟d faded to the other side of the room. And then he let it out really, really slowly. He noticed Weezy doing the same. She looked at him with a terrified expression.

Did she really think the Order would harm them if they were found here?

Apparently so.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps headed back upstairs. The light went out and the door slammed.

Jack felt Weezy relax and begin to move. He quickly touched her face in the dark, found her lips, and put a finger against them. When he felt her nod that she understood, he began extricating his hand from hers. That done, he put his lips against her ear and spoke in the softest voice possible.

“Don‟t speak, don‟t move.”

She nodded again.

After another eternity—probably ten minutes—he dared a whisper.

“Okay. I guess he‟s really gone.”

He felt her stiffen. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it had been me, I would have turned out the light and closed the door from the inside.

Then I would have waited on the landing and listened to see if anyone moved down here.”

She let out a breath. “I‟m glad whoever that was isn‟t like you. But what do we do now?”

“We wait.”

“How long? How will we know when he goes?”

Jack almost said, You mean , if he goes, but thought better of it.

“We‟ll be real quiet and listen for the back door slamming.”

He didn‟t know if that was possible. These walls were thick—he could barely hear the thunder.

He kept that to himself. She was already scared enough.

10

Jack guessed that twenty minutes more had passed. If not for the tense circumstances, it might have been nice being squeezed next to Weezy like this.

He‟d heard more footsteps on the other side of the ceiling, and then, maybe ten minutes ago, a sound like the back door slamming. After that, all sounds ceased. He hadn‟t heard the car start, but that didn‟t mean anything, considering what lay between them and the rear driveway. Only one thing to do.

He turned on his flashlight.

“Wait here. I‟m going to check upstairs.”

“No, Jack. He could still be up there.”

“Yeah, he could. But we can‟t stay here forever.” He crawled out from under the table and reached a hand toward her. “Might as well come out.”

She turned on her flashlight and shook her head. “I‟ll stay here till you come back.”

“Okay. I‟ll put the lights on when I pass the switch.”

“Do you think you should?”

He shrugged. “No windows down here, so no one outside‟s gonna notice. Neither will anyone up there. Be back in a few minutes.”

I hope.

He found the light switch at the top of the stairs, but didn‟t flip it on. Not yet. He needed to peek onto the first floor before that.

He bent until his line of sight was at floor level. No light filtered beneath the door. Dark out there.

Good.

Grasping the knob, he twisted it as slowly as he could until it would turn no more. Then, praying the hinges wouldn‟t squeak, he began to push the door open—also slowly—until the edge cleared the frame.

Still no sign of light, so—

He jumped as a flickering flash of white lit up an area to his left, quickly followed by a roar of thunder. He turned on the basement lights before slipping out the door and easing it closed behind him. Bad enough leaving Weezy alone and afraid down there; at least she wouldn‟t be in the dark.

He looked around. No sign of life or man-made light here on the first floor, although the lightning flashes were frequent. Rain blew in torrents against the windows. The storm had hit full force.

But an empty first floor didn‟t guarantee an empty second. He peered up the dark stairwell. No noise or light from up there either.

He took off his sneakers and glided in his socks to the back door. He sagged with relief when he saw no sign of the Bentley.

Mr. Drexler and Eggers had gone.

But just to be sure … just to be absolutely sure, Jack eased up the steps and made a quick, nerve-wracking pass through the second floor. As he wandered the lightning-strobed hallway, a parade of horror film scenes—especially someone or something jumping out of a darkened doorway—flickered through his mind. But his search came up empty—just the way he‟d hoped.

No longer afraid of making noise, he hurried down to the first floor and opened the basement door.

“Hey, Weez!” he called. “All clear!”

She didn‟t answer.

“Weez?”

Still no answer.

Oh, jeez. Oh, no.

With his blood feeling as if it were congealing in his veins, he slipped back into his sneakers and crept down to the brightly lit basement.

“Weez?”

He ran to the table where they‟d hidden and looked under it. He found her flashlight and the pyramid, but not a trace of her.

“Oh, God—Weez!”

“I‟m right here,” said a voice behind him.

He whirled and saw her head sticking out from under the table opposite theirs.

“Don‟t do that to me!”

She puzzled. “I didn‟t do anything.” She crawled out, dusting off her hands. When she regained her feet she pointed to the space she‟d just left. “Look what I found.”

Jack dropped to his knees and saw a thick semicircle of braided steel protruding from the concrete.

“What is it?”

“I noticed it when I was waiting for you. It looks like a handle.”

He looked up at her. “A handle? What—?”

“Help me move the table.”

He rose and together they moved it off the spot and down the aisle. Once the area was clear, Jack saw a rectangular groove in the floor. He brushed and blew the dust out of the seam on the far side from the handle and found sunken hinges. Pretty clear what they had here.

“A trapdoor.”

Weezy nodded. “Just what I thought. Especially when I tapped on it.”

Jack rapped his knuckles on the surface and heard a deep, hollow, gonging sound.

“Steel.”

“Yes,” Weezy said, her voice vibrating with excitement. “Made to look like concrete.”

Jack bent for a closer look. Based on the amount of dust and dirty sand in the grooves, the trapdoor or what ever it was hadn‟t been opened for a long time.

He grabbed the ring and tugged. The door wouldn‟t budge. He put his back into it with the same result.

“Give me a hand.”

Weezy added her strength to the pull but to no avail.

“I think it‟s locked,” she said.

Jack inspected the dirty surface. “If so, it must be from the other side, because there‟s no keyhole.”

“We‟ve got to get it open, Jack. It‟s obviously a secret compartment that‟s been locked for who knows how long. Just think what could be hidden inside. Ancient books, infernal devices,

secrets!”

Jack stared at her shining eyes, her intent expression. “Okay … how?”

“I don‟t know, but—hey, here‟s something.”

She began brushing the dirt from a shallow depression in the trapdoor surface. Only it wasn‟t so shallow. The dirt kept coming. And as she brushed it free, the edges of the depression became visible.

“Jack, it‟s got six sides! And it tapers down to a point, I think!”

Her hands began to shake, so Jack lent his to the task and …

“You‟re right … the same size and shape as … you think … ?”

Weezy was already under the other table, grabbing the pyramid.

“Yes! It‟ll fit! It has to!”

Jack brushed-blew out the remaining debris from the hexagonal depression and took the pyramid from her. He placed it point-down into the cavity and leaned back.

“Near perfect fit.”

“Jack …” He could barely hear her. “I think it‟s the key.”

The top three-quarters of the pyramid were settled into the opening, leaving the hexagonal base protruding. Jack leaned closer and noticed a circular groove running around the cavity, like it was set in the end of a cylinder.

“I think you‟re right.”

He gripped the base and tried to rotate it, but it wouldn‟t budge—clockwise or

counterclockwise, no luck, not even with Weezy‟s help.

“It‟s jammed.” He looked around. “Maybe we‟d better go. We‟re stretching our luck by staying here and—”

“Are you kidding?” she said, her voice jumping an octave. “They‟re gone, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then we‟re not going anywhere until we get that door open.”

He realized argument was futile.

“Okay, but—”

“Wait a minute,” she said, grabbing a flashlight. “I thought I saw something inside when I was cleaning it out.” She removed the pyramid and trained the beam on the cavity. The light wavered in her trembling hand as it revealed little rough spots on each of its six facets. “Don‟t those look familiar?”

Jack leaned closer and immediately recognized them.

“The symbols on the pyramid. So it does belong in there.”

“Right, but maybe it‟s got to be in there a certain way—with the glyphs matched up.”

So that was what they did: Matched up the glyphs on the six sides of the pyramid with those on the facets of the cavity.

But when Jack tried it again it still wouldn‟t turn.

“It‟s got to!” Weezy cried, her tone frantic. “It‟s jammed!”

She rose and stomped on the base of the pyramid with a sneakered foot.

“Hey!” Jack said as she kept kicking it. “What are you doing?”

“This is what my dad does when something is jammed. He whacks it. So …”

Another kick or two and then she knelt beside him and they both tried rotating the pyramid.

It budged counterclockwise.

“Did you feel it?” Weezy cried.

Jack nodded and increased his efforts. He felt another budge. And then another. He and Weezy were grunting, their breath rasping though their teeth.

With a crunch, something broke free within the mechanism and the pyramid made a quick quarter turn. And then another quarter. And after that it made steady progress until it completed a full turn.

“I think that does it,” Jack said. “What now? Open it?”

Weezy nodded, eyes shining. “Are you kidding?”

Jack thought about the mound, and all the trouble digging into that had caused. And now this.

What secrets had the Order hidden behind the trapdoor that only it, as possessor of the pyramid, could open?

Jack wasn‟t sure he wanted to know. He was also sure that no way could he walk away from this door without seeing what lay behind it.

“Okay. On my count of three.” Together they grabbed the ring handle. “One … two … three!”

11

“I can‟t believe it.” Jack didn‟t know how long they‟d stood in silence and stared at the dark hole before Weezy spoke.

He sighed. “Yeah. All that crazy lock business for a hole in the ground.” He squatted for a closer look at the rectangle of empty blackness. “Or maybe not.”

He grabbed one of the flashlights and aimed its beam into the opening. About ten feet down he saw a flat expanse of what looked like wet stone and mud. Weezy was at his side, craning her neck for a look.

“Looks like a subcellar,” she said. “But no stairs.”

Still beaming his flashlight into the opening, Jack moved around to the other side and found something.

“Hey. Steps. Sort of.”

A stone wall sat under Weezy‟s side. Deep horizontal grooves had been cut into the surface, allowing it to function as a ladder of sorts.

“I‟m going down for a look,” Jack said.

“You think it‟s safe?”

He looked at her. “You mean, is there anyone or anything down there? You saw that door. It hasn‟t been opened for ages.”

She shrugged. “I guess you‟re right. It‟s just that it‟s so … dark.”

He smiled and held up the flashlight. “That‟s why we have these.”

He wasn‟t sure why he wanted to descend into the space. Maybe simply because it was there.

Or maybe because he didn‟t think he‟d ever get another chance like this.

What ever the reason, he felt a tug from the darkness.

He stuck the flashlight in his back pocket and eased himself over the edge until his sneaker found one of the grooves. Then it was almost like climbing a ladder.

When he reached the bottom his sneakers splashed a little. More water down here than he‟d originally thought. He was glad he‟d worn his old Converses.

“See anything?”

Weezy knelt at the edge of the opening, staring down at him. He glanced around: stone wall in front of him, stone wall behind, and blackness left and right.

“Looks like I‟m in a passage of some sort.”

Pulling out the flashlight, he turned it on and moved to his right. He didn‟t go far before he ran into a third stone wall. This was cracked and flaky, with water seeping around its edges and through the cracks.

He closed his eyes and oriented himself within the Lodge and realized he was below and beyond its west wall. Which put this wall right near the bank of the lake. He gauged that it would normally sit just above surface level. But now, with the lake so high, it had to be underwater.

This was the lake seeping through.

He backtracked and found Weezy where he‟d left her, peering down at him.

“Empty dead end back there. I‟ll check this way.”

He‟d walked perhaps twenty feet when his beam picked out something leaning against a wall. It took him a moment to recognize its shape, and when he did, he knew he had to show Weezy.

He made his way back to the shaft of light shining from the Lodge‟s basement.

“Weez! I found something!”

“What? A book, a scroll? What?”

“You‟ve got to see it to believe it. Trust me.”

She hesitated barely a second. “I do.” She held out her flashlight. “Catch.”

He did just that, then watched her scamper down the wall like she‟d done it a thousand times.

“You‟re pretty good at that.”

She smiled. “Queen of the monkey bars—remember?”

He nodded. She‟d been pretty limber and agile as a kid. A lot of the boys had been unable to keep up with her.

She took her flashlight and turned it on.

“Now. Where‟s this thing I‟ve got to see?”

“Follow me.”

Aiming his light far ahead, he led her down the passage. His beam soon found the object.

“There. How soon can you figure out what it is?”

Jack had been practically on top of it before he recognized it.

Weezy slowed her pace, then stopped a few feet from it.

“It looks like the Septimus seal.”

“Right. It‟s the sigil. But I‟ve never seen one like this.”

All the others had been either sculpted or molded in relief on a circular base. This was just the figure itself—six feet high, Jack guessed—and not made of the usual stone or plaster.

Weezy stepped forward and ran a finger over its dust-laden surface. “It

feels like …”

Jack did the same and knew what she was thinking. Under the grime the surface was a smooth, shiny black.

Her voice was hushed with awe. “The same material as our pyramid!” She ran her fingers over the rough edges at one of the corners. “But the border is all broken off.”

“All except one section up top.” Jack ran his flash beam over it and immediately recognized the figures carved into the surviving section. “Hey, Weez—”

“I see. The same seven glyphs as on the pyramid—what do they mean? What do they spell?

And why aren‟t they on the other sigils, like the one over the front door?”

“Lots of good questions, Weez. And I‟ve got a few more. Like, what was written on the other sections? And why does Mister Drexler have one of the glyphs on his cane?”

She looked at him. “The glyphs here and on the locking mechanism on that door don‟t leave much question as to the true owner of the pyramid.”

He sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah. The Lodge.”

Too bad.

“You don‟t really think I‟m leaving it here, do you? No way. Finders keepers, and I found it.”

Her expression turned fierce as her voice rose. “I am never, ever giving it up again!”

“Okay, but—”

“What is this place, anyway?” she said as she flashed her light around—her mood had done a complete about-face. It seemed to change direction like her flash beam. “I can‟t believe they built all this just to store this one broken-down sigil. I—” She stopped when her beam picked up a dark rectangle in the wall farther down on the left side of the passage. “Doesn‟t that look like

… ?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, moving toward it. “A doorway. Let‟s see.”

Yes, a doorway in the stone wall, with no door. And a little to its right, another opening, smaller, square, chest high.

“This almost looks like a window.”

“But that‟s crazy,” Weezy said. “Who‟d put a window underground?”

Jack shone his beam within and saw more walls and what looked like another doorway. He stepped inside and found a partially collapsed stone ceiling. Rocky debris littered the space.

Through the second doorway lay another space, this one even more choked with debris.

“You know …,” Weezy said, close behind him, “this almost looks like a house.” “Exactly what I was thinking. A very small house, but a house.”

They returned to the passageway and moved on. They passed a rock-and-dirt-choked area where something appeared to have collapsed. And then on the right, another doorway leading into what looked like another little house.

And farther along they came to a wider passage crossing theirs. Jack positioned himself at the center of the intersection and turned in a full circle, beaming his flash in all directions.

Back the way they had come he could see the shaft of light from the trapdoor opening, but he was sure they‟d progressed beyond the walls of the Lodge. Down the three other paths he found darkness and the hint of other doorways and windows.

“Oh my god,” Weezy said as she turned with him. “You know what this is?”

“It … it looks like a town.”

“Exactly! Jack, we‟ve discovered a buried town!”

“Who would bury a town?”

“It‟s not so much buried as built over. It happens all the time. Look at the ancient city of Troy.

Archeologists think there are eight cities on that site, one built over another time and time again.

It‟s a layer cake. And York, En gland, is built over a Roman town, and sections of Rome and London are built over previous towns and cities.”

Jack looked around. “So you think we‟re in one of those lost towns of the Pines you‟re always talking about?”

“Yes and no. I think this is an ancient, early settlement. Maybe these people built the megalith pyramid out in the Pines. Somewhere along the way, the original Quakerton—what we call Old Town—was built over it.” She started jumping up and down in a sort of Snoopy happy dance.

“This is amazing! Amazing! It‟s part of the Secret History!”

Jack could see how it could have been built over—the passages were all roofed with stone.

“Well, if these used to be their streets, why did they cover them? I mean, it‟s like an ancient mall.”

“Maybe they were hiding from someone or something.”

“Like what?”

Weezy shrugged. “How should I know?”

“I thought you knew all this stuff.”

“In everything I‟ve read about the Pines, lost towns were mentioned, but never anything like this. This wasn‟t even hinted at. Not once. Oh, God, this is so great!”

Then they stood in silence a moment, each turning and beaming light down the passages.

“Well,” Jack said finally, letting his light come to rest on Weezy. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to explore—I really do. We may never get another chance.” She chewed her lip. “But I have this awful, terrible fear …”

“Of what?”

“That someone is going to come down to the basement, see the door open, and close it.”

Jack‟s stomach lurched. He looked back along their original passage and was reassured by the warm glow shining from the ceiling.

“You had to say that? You had to say that? Now you‟ve got me thinking about it.”

“Sorry. It‟s just that it‟s my worst nightmare.”

“Well, thanks, because now you‟ve just made it mine. Let‟s get out of here.”

Before Weezy could reply, Jack heard a high-pitched sound. He touched her arm.

“You hear that?”

She cocked her head and stood statue still for a heartbeat or two as the sound rose and fell in pitch and volume. She closed her eyes and looked like she was in a trance.

“That‟s what I heard on the tour. I think it‟s a voice.”

Now that she mentioned it, it did sound something like a voice.

Suddenly she gasped as her eyes flew open.

“Jack, it‟s a child!”

12

After listening awhile longer, concentrating with everything he had, Jack had to agree. It wasn‟t a cat.

“Yeah. It does sound sort of like a kid.” A small, very scared kid. “Cody!”

“Oh, no!” Weezy said. “You think Drexler kidnapped him and locked him down here?”

As weird and creepy as Mr. Drexler was, Jack didn‟t think so.

“Think about it: How would he get him down here? Not through that door we used—we‟re the first to open that thing in a long time.”

“Okay. So maybe it wasn‟t him. But if it‟s Cody, how did he get down here?”

“I don‟t know. Maybe he fell in somewhere and couldn‟t get out. We‟ll worry about that later.”

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Cody!”

They stood statue still and silent, waiting. And then it came … faint, faraway, even higher pitched, but unmistakable.

“Hello? Is someone there? Hello?”

Jack wanted to cheer. He was alive! Cody was alive, and they‟d found him!

“We hear you, Cody!” Jack called. “We‟re coming to get you! Just keep talking!”

But he didn‟t keep talking. He started crying, and the relief and terror in the sound tore at Jack.

He grabbed Weezy‟s arm. “Let‟s go.”

But she held back, looking over her shoulder. Jack followed her gaze and saw the shaft of light from the trapdoor. He remembered her fear of someone closing it and locking them down here.

…it’s my worst nightmare…

Yeah, but they couldn‟t leave Cody. Not after what he‟d already been through. Handing her his flashlight, he said, “Wait here.”

He ran back toward the trapdoor. Along the way he encountered water sooner than expected. It was spreading and deepening, and had reached all the way to the first doorway now. At the base of the trapdoor ladder it was ankle deep and cold as it filled his sneakers.

That stone barrier at the other end must have sprung more leaks, or the existing ones had enlarged.

He rushed up the ladder to the cellar and checked beneath the trapdoor. The pyramid had fallen out when they‟d lifted the door. He pulled a chair over to the opening, then lifted the door and wedged it against it. Then he reinserted the pyramid in the cavity and began turning. It took only a fraction of the effort he‟d needed to open it.

As he turned he watched three latches—top, bottom, and side—slide out. He‟d thought there was only one. Man, they sure must have wanted to keep people out of that passage down there.

And then a thought struck: Or had they wanted to keep something down there from coming up?

Don‟t go there, he told himself.

He pulled the pyramid from the cavity, pushed the door back, and then checked out his handiwork: With the latches locked out, the door couldn‟t close.

And without the pyramid—which Jack was going to take with him—no way anyone could

retract the latches.

Unless, of course, they had another pyramid.

Don‟t go there either, he thought.

He slipped through the doorway and down the ladder to the passage—

—where the water was now about an inch above his ankles.

Not good. That barrier had to be leaking pretty badly. If it ever gave way …

And especially don‟t go there.

They had to find Cody and get him out ASAP.

He thought about going for help, but that could take a while. How long for the two of them to find Cody? Five minutes tops. And another five to get him back to the ladder. The poor kid had waited long enough.

He splashed back to Weezy and showed her the pyramid.

“No one can lock us down here now.” He placed it in the center of the intersection. “And this will mark the spot we need to come back to.”

“Where are you?” cried a small, faraway voice. “Are you still there?”

“We‟re coming, Cody!” Jack called. “Stay right where you are and keep yelling „hello.‟ We‟ll find you.” He looked at Weezy. “Okay. Let‟s go get him.”

Weezy nodded and pointed to their left. “I think he‟s that way.”

Jack agreed, so they set off in that direction.

They‟d speed-walked maybe a hundred feet when they came to another intersection, this one a T with the leg running to their right. Cody‟s voice seemed to be coming down the leg.

Jack pointed and started in that direction, then stopped. He looked back the way they‟d come and saw only darkness.

“Hey, we could get lost.”

“I don‟t get lost,” Weezy said. “And you won‟t as long as you stay with me.”

True. Weezy never got lost. She‟d wander all through the Pines and always find her way back.

But this was different.

“You‟re sure? This isn‟t like being in the Barrens. You can‟t see the sky. No sun or stars to guide you. There‟s not even any light.”

She tapped her forehead. “I don‟t know how it works, but it‟s all up here. I always remember the paths I take. I can always go back the way I came.”

That wasn‟t all she remembered. Her photographic memory didn‟t let her forget anything she‟d ever read. He envied her that.

“Okay. I‟m counting on you.”

They hurried on, their progress slowed by a pile of rocks and dirt where the ceiling had given way. They picked their way over that, then continued on.

“I‟m worried about something else,” Weezy said. “What if it‟s not Cody?”

“How can it be anyone else? He‟s the only kid who‟s disappeared.”

“But what if it‟s not a kid? What if it‟s some thing else?”

“Oh, jeez. You‟re not going to start, are you? What else could it be?”

“Well, we know there‟s something out in the Pines, something that chases people—we know that from personal experience.”

“Okay, yeah. But that was a bear.”

“You‟re calling it a bear, but we never got a clear look at it.”

“It was a bear, Weez.”

Had to be.

“But what if it was something else … something with the power to lure you to it by sounding like a frightened child?”

“Weez, it‟s speaking to us. Listen.”

Somewhere up ahead a child‟s voice was repeating, “Hello? … Hello … Hello?”

“I know, I know. I just …”

They came to another four-way intersection and Weezy stopped, turning in a circle.

“You know what?” she said.

Jack wasn‟t sure he wanted to hear this.

“What?”

“Remember the black cube the pyramid came in, and how it had that pattern of crisscrossing lines etched on its inside?”

“Sure. You made a tracing.”

“Well, I‟ve always wondered what they represented. I mean they weren‟t random. They formed a sort of grid. I‟m beginning to believe it was a street map.”

“Of this place?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I‟m not sure yet, but—hey!” She jumped as if she‟d been bitten on the foot.

“What—?”

Jack aimed his flashlight down and saw water swirling around their sneakers. He hadn‟t noticed because his feet were already wet.

“This is not good,” he said. “This is not good at all.”

“What‟s going on?”

“The lake … it‟s seeping through.”

Her voice rose an octave. “You call this seeping?”

“Okay. It‟s breaking through.”

“But Jack, have you noticed? We‟ve been on a slight incline. That means the water‟s already lots deeper back where we came from.”

“Hello?” came the little voice. “Are you still there?”

“We‟re coming, Cody!” Jack called, then turned to Weezy. “We‟d better hurry.”

She said, “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” but her tone didn‟t carry its usual edge.

She was worried. So was Jack.

Flashing their lights ahead of them, they broke into a trot. Recurrent areas of debris where the roof had collapsed slowed them, but they kept going.

They arrived at an intersection where the voice seemed to be coming more from their right, so they veered that way. But after maybe twenty feet …

“Eew!” Weezy said. “What‟s that smell?”

Together they skidded to a halt as a rotten odor rammed into his nostrils. They each clapped a hand over nose and mouth. Not the same as the thing in the Pines last night.

“It smells like something died,” he said.

Weezy took a tentative step forward and pointed to a doorway on their left.

“I … I think it‟s coming from in there.” She looked at Jack. “Go see what it is.”

Jack‟s first instinct was to ask her why she didn‟t go see, but he bit it back. They needed to know.

If Cody had wound up in the lost town, then something else might have as well. What ever was stinking up the place probably hadn‟t been able to get out and had starved to death. Cody was looking at the same fate if they didn‟t get him out.

Jack shone his light through the doorway as he inched up to it, but saw nothing but bare floor and walls. When he reached it the smell hit him like a punch in the face. Holding his nose wasn‟t good enough—-he could taste the odor, and it made him gag.

Steeling himself he stepped inside and flashed his beam left—nothing—and right—

Jack stood frozen in shock at the mound of bones piled in the corner—old bones and new bones, a couple with bits of meat still clinging to them, animal bones and human bones, and oh yeah he was sure they were human because he‟d seen pictures and had inspected the life-size plastic skeleton in the school‟s biology lab and who could mistake those two skulls up front there for anything but human and they had tooth gouges and holes in the top just like the skull they‟d found in the pyramid cage in the Pines.

13

Jack reeled backward, bumping into Weezy and almost knocking her down. “Jack!

What—?”

“Bones!” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “A hundred—a million of them!

Eaten—something‟s killing animals and people and bringing them down here to eat!”

Marcie Kurek‟s name flashed through his brain. Could one of those skulls be

hers?

“People?” Weezy stepped back and splashed into a puddle. “Oh, no!” The water had followed them.

“Hello?” came Cody‟s voice, louder now that they were closer, and from

somewhere to their right, just on the far side of a high mound of debris. “Are you still coming?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, then recalled what Weezy had said about

something luring people with the sound of a child. He envisioned an angler fish,

dangling its wiggly lure right outside its huge, sharp-toothed mouth, drawing

unsuspecting prey closer and closer until …

“Cody!” he called. “What‟s your last name?”

“Bockman! Where are you?”

Jack glanced at Weezy and saw that she looked as relieved as he felt. “Keep talking, Cody!” he shouted.

They picked their way over the pile of rocks and dirt and came upon a doorway

where a little boy, dirty and disheveled with tear-streaked cheeks, stood blinking in their flash beams. He looked different from the last time Jack had seen him. His blond hair was matted, his face pale, his eyes sunken, but no doubt about it: This was Cody Bockman.

“Who-who are you?” he sobbed, then ducked back inside.

Jack realized that with their beams directed in his face, all the kid could see was

their lights. Jack lowered his beam as he and Weezy slipped through the doorway. “Hey, Code.

It‟s me—Jack!”

“Jack?” He ran forward. “Jack?”

He threw his arms around Jack‟s legs and clutched him like a drowning sailor. It stank inside, but nothing like the bone room back down the passage. He swept

the beam around and saw apple cores and scraps of food—plus his Frisbee, and Eddie‟s Star Trek phasers, and the pink beach ball he‟d seen in the Vivinos‟ yard, and lots of other toys and stuff.

What was going on here?

“You‟re really going to take me home?”

Weezy knelt before him.

“Absolutely.”

He threw his arms around her and sobbed.

“It‟s okay, it‟s okay,” Weezy said soothingly, showing a side Jack had never seen.

“We‟re going to take you back to your folks.”

“Will it let you?”

Jack‟s gut instantly wound into a Gordian knot.

“‟It‟?”

“The thing that took me.” He began sobbing.

“Oh jeez, what‟s it look like?”

“I never seen it. All I know is it smells bad. I was riding my bike in the woods

and something hit me and I woke up here.”

“But how have you survived without food or water or—”

“It brings me food and water. Sometimes fruit, sometimes stuff that‟s old and

don‟t taste good.”

Jack was having difficulty buying this. “And you‟ve never seen it?” “It‟s dark! I can‟t see in the dark!”

Right. Dumb question. But obviously whatever took him had no problem with

darkness.

Jack flicked his beam over to the toys.

“How‟d these get here?”

“It brings them, like it wants me to play with them, but I just want to go

ho-ho-home!”

As he started sobbing again, Weezy rose and took him by the hand. “That‟s where we‟re taking you right now.” She looked at Jack with a frightened

expression. “As fast as we possibly can.”

“Even faster,” he said, and led the way through the door—

—into water. The whole buried town seemed to be filling with water. “Better get a real move on,” he said, “or we‟ll be swimming home.” He started to climb the debris mound. “I‟ll go first, Cody. You stay close behind

and I‟ll help you—”

“Jack!” Weezy said in a harsh whisper. “Listen!”

From somewhere in the distance on the other side of the mound, Jack heard a

faraway growl.

“It‟s coming!” Cody screamed. “It‟s coming!”

14

The knot in Jack‟s gut tightened further as the air thickened around him, making it hard to breathe.

What ever it was that had taken Cody, whatever had eaten the meat off those bones, was approaching along their escape route.

“Quiet, Cody,” Weezy whispered as she pulled him away from the mound. “We‟ll go this way.”

“But we came the other way,” Jack said, keeping his voice as low as hers as he followed her.

“We‟ll get lost.”

“I think I can get us back by another route—by a couple of other routes, actually.”

“How?”

She glanced over her shoulder and tapped her head. “The map—it‟s in here. I think we‟re under the Klenke house. I‟m pretty sure I can get us back to the Lodge. Trust me?”

“I do.”

He‟d trust her even if he had a choice not to—which he didn‟t.

But they had to move quickly, and with Cody looking backward all the way, he was going to slow them.

“Hang on, Weez.” He pocketed his flash, then gripped Cody‟s arm and squatted next to him.

“Hop on, buddy. You‟re going to ride.”

Without a word Cody climbed onto Jack‟s back and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Hooking his elbows under the boy‟s knees, Jack straightened and turned to Weezy.

“Okay, you‟re in charge. Move as fast as you want. I‟ll keep up.”

Flashlight aimed ahead of her, she took off at a cautious trot.

Under the Klenke house… the stench Tim had mentioned there … the stink from the bone room seeping upward?

He‟d worry about that later. Right now he was concerned with the water that had risen to mid-shin level, slowing them.

They‟d made a turn and were just skirting a smaller debris mound when an enraged shriek echoed around them.

Feeling Cody tense and take a breath, Jack turned his head and whispered, “Don‟t make a sound or it‟ll find us!”

Cody‟s chest quaked with a repressed sob but the only sound he made was a faint whimper. He tensed again as another shriek split the silence, but he kept mum.

They came to another, larger collapsed area. Climbing over the fallen rocks and dirt wasn‟t easy with Cody on his back—the kid was solid—but Jack managed.

The water rose to hip level, which was bad because it slowed them even further, but might be good if it meant they were getting closer to their goal. It could also mean the lake was flowing in faster than ever.

Weezy stopped and grabbed his shoulder. She put her lips close to his ear.

“Hear that?”

He listened. Somewhere ahead and to the right, a sound like running water—like a small waterfall emptying into a pond. A good-size hole must have opened up in the stone. Bad news, but it meant they were getting close.

They began moving again, struggling against the cold water. Jack knew he‟d be shivering if not for the exertion. Weezy led them off one passage onto another when a loud splash sounded from the passage they‟d just left. A rapid series of smaller splashes followed it.

“It” was coming their way.

Jack pointed to an empty doorway.

“Here!” he whispered. “Light off!”

Weezy turned off her flash as they ducked through a doorway into a watery space as dark as the bottom of a mine shaft. The splashing was growing louder, coming closer.

Jack squatted until the water was up to his neck— now he was shivering. He tugged Weezy down next to him, then pulled Cody off his back and positioned him between them.

“Can you hold your breath underwater?” he whispered to the boy. “Like bobs at swim school?”

When he felt him nod in return, Jack leaned closer and said to both of them, “When I give the signal, duck under and stay under as long as you can.”

He didn‟t know about the thing‟s sense of smell, but if it was anything like its vision—what sort of eyes could see in this blackness?—the water could help mask their scent. And that might save their lives.

The splashing grew louder and closer—“it” was pushing hard through the water.

Closer …

Louder …

Closer …

With his lips next to Cody‟s ear Jack whispered, “Okay now, deep breath and down!”

He pushed Weezy down and went under himself with Cody, praying they hadn‟t ducked too soon. He had decent breath control, and was pretty sure Weezy was okay, but Cody … he had no idea how long he could stay under. If he had to come up for air too soon—like when their pursuer was right outside the door—it could mean the end of all of them.

The absolute darkness above the surface seemed even darker below it. The splashing was still audible, but muffled. He felt Cody start to squirm—out of fear rather than need for air, he hoped, because it was too soon. The splashing was only a few feet away. Jack could feel the turbulence of its passing swirl through the door.

Cody was struggling now, pushing upward. Jack didn‟t want to hold him down any longer, afraid he‟d gasp and sputter when he broke the surface and give them away. So he nudged Weezy and all three of them rose.

“A breath and back down!” he whispered in Cody‟s ear as they broke the surface.

Cody gasped twice, then sank again along with Jack and Weezy.

The splashing outside stopped. Had it heard them? Its own splashing should have drowned out what ever sounds they‟d made, but it must have heard something—or thought it had. Why else stop?

Jack tried to Obi-Wan it along, thinking, Move on…nothing here…move on…

After an eternity during which Cody again began to squirm, it began splashing

again—splashing away.

Jack nudged Weezy and the boy to the surface where they gulped air as quietly as they could.

The splashing was growing fainter.

“It‟s going the way we were headed,” Jack whispered.

“We can go another way,” Weezy said, her teeth chattering.

“You‟re sure?”

“Pretty.”

Jack would have much preferred “totally” or “absolutely,” but he‟d take what he could get.

They waited until the splashing died away, then he hoisted Cody onto his back again. Weezy flicked her flashlight, but nothing happened. She shook it but no light.

“Jack?”

Oh no! No-no-no! The possibility of water shorting out the flashlights hadn‟t even occurred to him. Without light they were doomed.

He grabbed Mr. Rosen‟s from his pocket. It felt rubberized. As he hit the switch he prayed it had a better seal. The room lit up.

“Thank God!” Weezy said as she snatched it from him and turned it off. “I‟m going to turn it on for a second at a time. We‟ll attract less attention that way.”

“Good thinking.”

The less attention the better.

With Weezy in the lead, turning on her flash just long enough to give them a direction, they started moving again, retracing their path back to the previous intersection and turning right.

The water had risen above Jack‟s belt and he was detecting a current—slight, but it slowed their progress more. On the good side, though, if the water was flowing through the crumbling barrier, they need only follow the current to the trapdoor.

The next time Weezy flicked on her flash Jack noticed that the formerly clear water was now muddy. Must have been picking up dirt from the caved-in spots. He saw it swirling their way from around the corner just up ahead to their right. Which meant that was the way to go. He was struggling to catch up to tell Weezy when she angled that way and turned off her light.

Either she‟d come to the same conclusion, or was listening to her uncanny sense of direction.

As they rounded the corner a second later he ran into her back.

“What‟s wrong?” he whispered.

“I can see light up ahead.”

Jack pushed ahead for a look. He wanted to shout when he saw the glow seeping from a side passage maybe two hundred feet ahead on the left.

Even though he was ready for it, the current was stronger than he‟d expected. Cody was an extra drag, but Jack leaned forward and plowed on. Vaguely silhouetted ahead, Weezy kept the lead, her raised arms stroking the air as if swimming as her lithe body cut through the water—which now swirled around Jack‟s lower ribs. Good thing he had Cody on his back. The little guy would be completely submerged here.

When they made it to the last intersection, Jack wondered if the little pyramid was still sitting at the center. Doubted it. The current had probably washed it away.

The flow strengthened further as they rounded the last corner. Jack could hear the water rushing in beyond the shaft of light beaming through the trapdoor. He was pretty sure he‟d never seen anything so beautiful as that light. He felt a burst of strength and, even though the water was up to his armpits now and Cody seemed heavier than ever, he picked up speed.

He jumped as he felt something brush against a leg. Were fish being washed in from the lake?

Weezy gave up walking and swam ahead with smooth, strong strokes. It was slow going against the current but eventually she reached the stone ladder and hung there, panting. She had her face turned up toward the doorway when Jack felt a surge of water behind him. Without warning, a deafening shriek of rage filled the passageway and a bolt of pain lanced his scalp as Cody was torn from his back.

Weezy screamed and Jack fell forward, plunging face-first into the cold flow. When he regained his footing and turned, he saw nothing but swirling water.

Cody was gone!

15

“Oh my god!” Weezy screamed from the ladder. “Oh my god!”

Jack tried to wade over to her but had to swim through the neck-high water. “What happened?

Did you see it? Where‟d he go?”

She pointed a trembling hand toward the darkness of the passage. “Something

took him! I heard it screech, and when I looked it had Cody and was diving under the water with him!”

“Flashlight!” Jack said, holding out his hand. “Give!”

Weezy pulled it out of reach. “Are you crazy? You can‟t go after it! You‟ll never find it, and if you do it‟ll kill you!”

But he couldn‟t just stay here and do nothing.

“What‟d it look like?”

She shook her head. “I saw wet black fur and claws and then it was gone. But it was big, Jack.

Way bigger than you. That‟s why you can‟t go.”

“But—”

“Right now the best chance Cody has is if we can go find help and get the police and firemen here.”

She was right—Jack knew she was completely right—but he felt as if he was abandoning that little boy.

“All right. But we can‟t waste a second. Let‟s see if we can find a phone upstairs.”

He wished they‟d done that when they‟d first heard Cody‟s voice. But who knew? Who could have imagined this?

“I—” Weezy gasped and pointed to his head. “Jack, you‟re bleeding!”

Jack touched the back of his head where it hurt and his fingers came away red.

“Must have happened when it snatched Cody.” That explained the pain, but he had more important things to worry about. He rinsed his fingers in the swirling water and pointed up.

“Come on. Let‟s go.”

As Weezy hauled herself out of the water and began to climb, Jack pulled himself under her and readied to follow. But as he took his first step, something grabbed his trailing leg and pulled him off the ladder and under the surface.

He hadn‟t had time for a breath. He had no air. He felt clawed paws grip his arms and pull him through the water and away from the light. He choked and fought against inhaling water.

It‟s trying to drown me!

Suddenly it lifted him from the water and pushed him face-first against the side wall. The slam expelled the water that had been seeping into his throat, and he choked and gasped as he drank air, glorious air.

Though he could hear Weezy‟s voice screaming his name from a distance, he couldn‟t see the thing here in the dark with his cheek pressed against the cold rough stone, but he could feel the creature‟s hot breath on his neck as it growled close behind him. Jack sensed rage and hunger in that sound, and he knew right then he was going to die.

Something like a smooth, thick wet rope snaked around his throat and squeezed. Was it going to strangle him?

Its grip tightened and he shuddered as he felt something warm and rough—it could only be a tongue—squirm against his neck and lap at the blood oozing from his scalp.

The creature stiffened and backed away a few inches, but didn‟t release him. After what seemed like a long wait as the water rose toward his chin, the tongue licked him again.

Suddenly the rope uncoiled from his neck and the paws released him. He was free. He heard a splash behind him and spun in the water, but saw nothing. He was alone and that was fine, that was wonderful.

He began kicking and stroking with everything he had toward the light and Weezy‟s calling voice.

“Jack!” she cried when she saw him. Her words became mixed with sobs. “Hurry, Jack! Hurry!”

He was stroking too hard against the increasing current to speak. Finally he reached the ladder and clutched at it. He looked up and saw Weezy‟s tear-streaked face staring down at him.

“Oh Jack, I thought you were gone forever!”

So had he. And the thing was, he didn‟t know why he was alive or how he‟d survived. Once the thing had a taste of his blood, it lost interest in him. Was there something wrong with him? With his blood?

Well, if so, he was glad of it. He would have loved to take a few moments here to think about it and catch his breath before climbing, but every second counted for Cody.

His foot found a rung somewhere underwater and he was just starting his climb when he heard a loud crunching crack! to his right. He looked and saw a wall of water rushing toward him.

The lake was exploding into the lost town.

Terror ignited a burst of speed in his limbs as he rushed to escape the tsunami, but he‟d climbed only halfway through the trapdoor when it hit him. He gasped as the force of it tore his feet from the ladder and dragged his legs along with it. He might have been sucked back into the torrent if Weezy hadn‟t grabbed one of his arms and helped him the rest of the way through.

“What happened?” she said as he lay dripping and gasping on the floor.

“The barrier must have given way.”

He looked over at the trapdoor opening and saw the foaming water lapping at its edges. He pushed himself to his knees as an awful realization hit like a speeding truck.

“Cody … he hasn‟t a chance.”

She shook her head. “Don‟t say that! We‟ve just got to find a phone and—”

A splash and movement in the opening.

Jack rolled away, expecting the creature to emerge. But instead Cody appeared, rising through the churning water as if propelled from behind.

He was being propelled. Jack saw a pair of thick, black-furred arms pushing him out of the water. His limp form flopped onto the floor where he rolled over onto his back and lay still.

Jack saw those two furred arms reach over the edge of the doorway, saw the sharp yellow talons of its hand like paws frantically claw at the floor, trying to find purchase, but they couldn‟t hold.

Slowly they slipped toward the opening, leaving gouges in the concrete. Something that could have been a snake or an eel or a smooth tentacle whipped out of the water and waved about as if trying to find something to grip.

And then with a final scrabbling rasp of claws on concrete, the paws slipped through the opening and disappeared along with the eel or what ever it was.

Jack stared in openmouthed shock. It had saved Cody—pushed him out of the water. He kept waiting for the hands to reappear, but they didn‟t.

He turned to Weezy. “Did you—?”

“Jack!” she cried, pointing to Cody. “He‟s not breathing!”

Jack leaned over the boy and saw that Weezy was right. His face was white, his lips blue.

Cody Bockman was dead.

16

Maybe not, Jack thought as he sorted through his shell-shocked brain, trying to tease out what he‟d learned in life-saving class about drowning victims who weren‟t breathing.

Pulse—check for pulse!

He thrust two fingertips against Cody‟s throat, pressing into the

flesh about an inch from the midline. He felt a weakly beating artery.

“He‟s alive!”

“But he‟s not breathing!” Weezy said. “He needs CPR!”

Right—no!

Can‟t get air into water-filled lungs, he remembered. Always do a Heimlich first! Jack lifted Cody‟s limp body to a sitting position and got behind him. He placed a

fist under his breastbone, covered it with another hand and began thrusting. “What are you doing, Jack?” Weezy wailed. “He needs CPR!”

No, he knew he was right.

Suddenly powerful hands tore him away from Cody. He looked up and saw Mr.

Drexler‟s angry face.

“Take over, Eggers,” he said to his driver, then looked at Jack and Weezy. “And

you … you two have caused a big problem.”

Jack watched Eggers sling Cody over his shoulder like an empty sack, then begin

jouncing the limp little body.

“What‟s he doing?” Jack said.

“What you were attempting—only better. I assume that‟s the Bockman boy?” Jack nodded.

“Yes, he—”

“Quickly, Eggers!” Mr. Drexler said. “Take him up to that sinkhole.” His

expression was stern as he turned to them. “Who do you two think you are, breaking

into private property and vandalizing it.”

“We didn‟t vandalize anything!” they replied in unison.

He pointed to the water now bubbling through the opening and spreading over

the floor.

“That water is about to irreparably damage a lot of valuable furniture. I call that

vandalizing. Shut that trapdoor immediately.”

“We can‟t,” Jack said. “The pyramid‟s down there … in the water.” Mr. Drexler looked as if he were about to explode. “You—”

“Who cares about that!” Jack shouted. “Cody‟s dead!”

He ran for the stairs, pounded up to the first floor and out the open front door. It had stopped raining, but thunder still muttered and grumbled off to the east. Eggers was at the curb, trying Heimlichs on Cody‟s limp form.

It‟s no use, Jack thought, feeling his throat lock. He‟s gone.

And then a sloppy, soggy figure stepped from the shadows.

“Hey, what‟s goin‟ down here?” he said.

Jack recognized Walt‟s voice. He looked like he must have been standing out in

the storm the whole time.

“Get away,” Eggers said.

“Naw, man,” he said, leaning over the boy. His voice sounded clear, not a hint of

a slur. “I know this kid. I been waiting for him.”

He reached for Cody‟s hand. Jack noticed with a start that he wasn‟t wearing

gloves.

Waiting for him? Was this why he‟d been hanging around Old Town? But how

could he possibly—?

He touched Cody‟s hand and as soon as they made contact, Cody jerked and

coughed up what seemed like a quart of water.

Walt staggered back like he‟d received a shock, then began to wander away. “Walt?”

Walt turned and gave him a dazed look, then faded back into the shadows. When Mrs.

Clevenger had told him to stop drinking, she‟d said, You may be

needed in the next day or so. Was this what she‟d meant?

What just happened here?

Then Weezy rushed up behind him.

“Jack!” she said as she saw Cody gasping for air in Eggers‟s arms. “He‟s alive!”

She threw her arms around Jack and squeezed. “He‟s going to be all right!” Jack felt his throat tighten. He was all right … Cody was all right. He might have

nightmares the rest of his life, but he was alive.

He felt a surge of pride.

Because of us.

Mr. Drexler appeared. “Well, that will make things less complicated. I called in an

emergency. And while we‟re waiting you two will explain exactly how that child came to be in the Lodge‟s basement.”

Taking turns, Jack and Weezy launched into a rundown of the night‟s events. Mr.

Drexler didn‟t seem too surprised at anything until they mentioned finding Cody in the lost town.

He held up a hand and stared at them.

“You found him down there? How could he possibly have—?”

“The creature brought him,” Jack said.

Mr. Drexler froze as if hit by a paralyzer beam. After a pause he said, “Creature?

What creature?”

“Some kind of weird bear,” Jack said. “We never saw it except for its black furry

arms and claws. Oh, and I saw something wormlike stick out of the water at the end.” “I saw it too,” Weezy said, glancing at Jack. “Looked like a tentacle but that

couldn‟t be, right?”

Mr. Drexler looked as white as his suit as he leaned heavily on his cane. “No … couldn‟t be.”

“Are you all right?” Weezy said.

Instead of giving an answer he asked a question. “You say this animal brought

the child underground. Why would it do that?”

“It was feeding him,” Jack said. “Maybe to fatten him up?”

“No,” Weezy said. “It was bringing him toys … like presents. Maybe it was lonely.

It almost seemed to be treating Cody like its own child. Maybe it wanted a child and couldn‟t have one.”

“‟Like its own child,‟” Mr. Drexler repeated in a soft voice.

Weezy added, “Yes. I mean, it got Cody to safety first, then couldn‟t save itself.

That has to mean something.”

Mr. Drexler looked dazed as he shook his head. “Incredible. None of this,

however, mitigates your breaking and entering, and the destruction of Lodge property.

This will have to be reported to the police.”

Jack felt his chest tighten. His folks were going to kill him. Plus he‟d have some

kind of criminal record.

He glanced at Weezy who looked like he felt.

We‟re cooked, he thought. Deep fried and well done.

“At least we found Cody,” he said. “So it wasn‟t all for nothing.” He looked at Mr.

Drexler. “Do you have to report us?”

The man gave him a disgusted look, then his features relaxed. “Perhaps

something can be worked out.”

“What?” Weezy said, straightening. “Anything.”

Jack‟s mood lightened at the ray of hope, but he was wary of this man. “I wish to exclude all mention of the Lodge or the Order from this,” Mr. Drexler

said. “Even though it hasn‟t been opened in perhaps a century, I do not wish it known that the building‟s basement housed a trapdoor into the underground.” Jack said, “But Cody will—”

“The child was unconscious during his brief time in the basement. He nearly

drowned in the underground and came to up here on the street. He will have no idea

he was ever in the Lodge. But the same cannot be said of you two.”

“You want us to say we were never in there?” Weezy said. “But he saw us

underground. He‟ll remember that.”

“Of course he will.”

Jack raised his hands. This didn‟t make any sense. “Then how do we explain how

we got underground?”

Mr. Drexler stopped and pointed to the front yard of the house next door. “You‟ll say you fell through there.”

Jack looked and didn‟t see what he was talking about. Suddenly Cody struggled

to his feet and stumbled toward them.

Crying, “Cody!” Weezy ran to him and he fell into her arms. “Jack!” she said,

lifting the boy. “Look!”

And then he saw it: a six-foot-wide hole in the front lawn—the sinkhole Mr.

Drexler had mentioned.

“I noticed the lake was lower on the way in,” Mr. Drexler said. “And when I saw

that sink hole, I instantly realized what was happening. But I had no idea …” His words drifted off as he stared in Cody‟s direction.

“Why did you come back?”

“Hmm?” His attention returned from wherever it had been. “I didn‟t at first. We‟d

stopped for a bite to eat when I realized we‟d left something behind.”

“The pyramid.”

“No.” He gave Jack a look. “That belongs here. Now I suppose it‟s lost forever,

thanks to you and your girlfriend.”

Jack wasn‟t going to let that pass. “Just as lost as it would still be if we hadn‟t

found it in the Pines.”

Mr. Drexler stared at him, and Jack stared right back.

“And she‟s not my girlfriend,” he added.

After a moment Mr. Drexler said, “Be that as it may, I sent Eggers back and he found the door unlocked. When he returned to me and reported that the pyramid was missing, I knew exactly who was to blame. But I wanted to see for myself before visiting your and the Connell girl‟s parents. Upon my return I noticed the basement

lights on. You know the rest.”

Jack jumped at a loud crunching, sucking sound to his right. He looked and saw

a section of the street‟s asphalt caving in not thirty feet away.

Another sinkhole.

“You can expect many more of those in Old Town before the night is over. The

lost town is crumbling beneath us.”

“Will there be anything left of it?”

“I doubt it.”

Jack pointed to the original hole. “So … we say we fell in there and found Cody.

How did we get out?”

“The flood waters floated you high enough to climb out. The revised story is

essentially true. All you are changing is the location of your ingress and egress. In exchange, I do not press charges.” He gave a small, condescending smile. “That way

the two of you can become big heroes in your little world.”

Jack didn‟t want to be a hero, and was already working on ways to play down his

role, reducing it to just happening to be in the right place at the right time. The real hero—at the end, at least—was the animal. It had died saving Cody. Of course, Cody

wouldn‟t have needed saving if it had left him alone in the first place.

The animal … Jack had a feeling Mr. Drexler knew something about it. “What do we say about the animal down there?”

Mr. Drexler fixed his gaze a thousand miles away. “Say what ever you wish.” “Not much to say since none of us saw it.”

“Then perhaps the less said, the better. The child‟s story will be confused and

garbled, and will change again and again. No sense in causing undue alarm over a

creature that is undoubtedly dead.”

“What was it?”

Mr. Drexler kept his gaze averted. “I have no idea.”

“Yes, you do. You reacted when we told you about it.”

Finally he looked at Jack. “I assure you I do not know what it was. I have an

idea what it might have been, but …”

“But?”

“What it might have been should have died a long, long time ago. It seems

impossible that it could have survived this long.”

Frustration flooded Jack. Mr. Drexler was answering the question without telling

him anything.

“But what „might‟ it have been?”

“Let‟s just call it a bear … an unusual breed of bear.”

What ever Jack had seen of the creature could be considered bearish … except

maybe for that tentacle thing. Okay … a mutant bear or some such.

“Could it or one of its ancestors have been caged in that stone pyramid out by

the mound?”

Mr. Drexler stared at him for a long moment. “You do get around, don‟t you.” The wail of a siren filtered through the night. Jack looked down Quakerton Road

and saw flashing red lights heading their way.

“Do we have a deal?” Mr. Drexler said.

Jack nodded. “Deal. I‟ll fill Weezy in. And I guess I‟m fired, right?” The dark eyebrows lifted.

“Fired? Why would I fire you?”

“Well, I thought—”

“Oh, no. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

FRIDAY

1

“I should have stayed with you guys!” Eddie said for what had to be the thousandth time as they walked toward the bus stop. He was toying with his Rubik‟s Cube, absently twisting it back and forth without looking at it. “Why didn‟t I stay?”

“‟Cause you‟re a wimp,” Jack told him.

“I am! I am! Wimpacious maximus!”

They‟d told him pretty much the same story they‟d told everyone else, but with a

special variation since Eddie knew they‟d been in the Lodge. They told him they hadn‟t found the pyramid and had fallen into the sinkhole after leaving the building. “I could be a hero now like you guys!”

“Not until you straighten out that cube—or let a genius like me do it for you.”

“And let you be a Rubik‟s hero too? As if.”

“We‟re not heroes,” Weezy said. “Please stop saying that.”

“But you are! Man, if I‟d been with you guys when you found Cody, I‟d be wearing a

Superman cape to school today.”

“Then I‟m glad you weren‟t,” she said, glancing at Jack.

Yeah. Jack was glad too. There‟d be no way of keeping a lid on Eddie. Sooner or later he‟d spill the beans about being in the Lodge, ruining their deal with Mr. Drexler.

Jack and Weezy had quickly discussed it last night during the turmoil of the ambulance‟s arrival. Neither wanted the attention that was coming, so they agreed to minimize their role in Cody‟s rescue.

When they were questioned—by Tim, who‟d shown up even though it wasn‟t his shift—they told him they‟d fallen through the sinkhole, heard Cody‟s cries, and climbed back out with him.

What of Cody’s story of a monster keeping him prisoner?

We don’t know…we never saw it. Too dark to see anything down there.

What you did was very brave. You’re heroes.

We’re not. We literally fell into hesitation and did what anyone else would have done.

And that was the way it had gone. Jack asked Tim to keep their names out of it as much as possible. He‟d seemed puzzled by the request but said he‟d do what he could.

“How‟s your head?” Weezy asked.

He touched the tender area of scalp at the rear, gooey now with Neosporin.

“Okay, I guess.”

The EMTs had looked at it last night and told him he‟d be better off with stitches but, because it wasn‟t a full-thickness cut, didn‟t absolutely need them. Jack had opted for a little first-aid treatment.

His mother had almost fainted when she saw the blood on his shirt, but recovered and was suitably proud when Tim told her and Dad about Jack finding Cody.

He still didn‟t understand what it had been about his blood that turned the animal off. Not that he was unhappy about that—no way. Just curious.

Curious about Walt too. Had it been pure coincidence that Cody had come to when Walt touched him, or …

Or what?

You may be needed in the next day or so…

This was all so crazy.

His folks had given him the option of staying home today, but he wanted to go in. Word of the rescue would be spreading through school and he wanted to be there to douse any hero talk.

Being a hero meant attention. Neither he nor Weezy wanted that. He wasn‟t sure of Weezy‟s reasons, but he knew she was self-conscious and probably figured the more people looked at her, the more flaws they‟d find. He just wanted to be Jack … just Jack … a kid who could walk the halls and go where he wanted when he wanted without anyone paying much attention.

Yeah. No hero stuff. At least not on the outside. But inside he was feeling pretty damn good.

He‟d put Mr. Vivino in his place and found a lost child almost given up for dead.

Not bad for a night‟s work.

Except for one thing …

“Think we‟ll ever see that little pyramid again?”

Weezy closed her eyes and flinched—as if the question had caused physical pain.

He knew the answer, but wondered if Weezy could accept it. He had a wild vision of her at the controls of a backhoe digging up the streets of Old Town in search of the buried city and her pyramid.

“I don‟t want to talk about it.”

“Well, then—”

“Okay, yes, I do. It‟s gone for good, buried under Old Town. I know that. It makes me want to scream when I think of it lost down there, but it‟s better than knowing it‟s sitting on a shelf in the Lodge. I want it back like crazy, but I have to accept that it‟s gone. At least it wasn‟t stolen from us this time … we lost it. There‟s a big difference—at least to me—if that makes any sense.”

“It does, kind of.” He looked at her. “You mean that?”

“Yeah … for the moment, anyway. I may feel entirely different by the time we get to school, but right now I see it as sort of a circle: The buried pyramid was uncovered—because of us. And now it‟s buried again—because of us. Don‟t you feel like a circle has closed?”

A circle closed … Had Weezy too noticed how recent events in their lives seemed to circle the pyramid?

“Yeah, I do. I definitely do.”

Jack felt a surge of relief, followed by a strange peace as they reached the highway.

He figured all the Johnson kids had heard—the word would have spread like the flu through the close-knit community—but the only out-of-town kids who‟d know would be those who listened to the morning news on the local radio.

When they reached the highway he glanced right and was surprised to see Mrs. Vivino waiting at the elementary bus stop. Sally stood to the side with a couple of little kids while a group of the other mothers clustered close around her mother. No way they hadn‟t heard.

The events at the VFW seemed like they‟d happened weeks ago rather than just last night.

To his shock, Mrs. V broke away from the other women and began walking toward him.

“Jack? Can I speak to you?”

Jack stood frozen. What could she have to say to him?

Something about her expression made him want to say “No” and cross the street. But he hung tough.

“You two go ahead,” he said to Weezy and Eddie, as he walked toward Mrs. V.

“I suppose you heard about the videotape,” she said as they drew within a few feet of each other.

Jack nodded, his mouth dry. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“I‟m glad you found Cody. I‟m glad for him, and I‟m glad for his parents, and I‟m glad because it gives people something to talk about besides that tape.”

“Yeah, well …”

He wanted to say more but felt tongue-tied.

“Do you know who made it?”

Oh jeez. He could feel every muscle in his body tensing. Why was she asking him? She couldn‟t suspect, could she? No reason in the world she could. He forced himself to look at her and saw a distorted image of himself reflected in her sunglasses.

“I haven‟t heard any rumors or anything.”

“I‟m sure that person thought he was doing us a favor, but he invaded our privacy. He stole what was supposed to be just between two people, and made it public.”

Stole? Stole

“People see one thing, one scene from a marriage and don‟t understand. They don‟t know what went before. They don‟t know what someone was like before … before he lost his son … how when a parent‟s worst nightmare becomes a reality, how that can change a person … make him into someone he never was, someone he would never have wanted to be.”

Was she excusing all that violence?

She said, “That videotape changed everything. A family splits, a home will have to be sold, Sally will have to move away from her friends.”

A tear slipped from under her sunglasses and left a glistening trail down her cheek. She wiped it away.

“Everybody loses … except maybe the videotaper, who probably thinks he‟s some sort of hero.

If you ever meet him, tell him he‟s not. Tell him he may have had good intentions, but the road to Hell is paved with those.”

Jack watched in stunned silence as she turned and walked back toward Sally.

She knew. Somehow … she knew.

He wanted to go after her and defend himself, wanted to say that if she was going to let that go on in her house just to keep her marriage together at any cost, fine for her. But what about the cost to Sally? Sally wasn‟t being given a choice. Sally had stopped smiling.

But he couldn‟t say a word without giving himself away.

Maybe Mr. Vivino had been changed by Tony‟s death, or maybe he‟d just stopped controlling an awful temper. Jack could only judge the man by his actions, by what he did, and what he‟d been doing was wrong.

But what about what I did? he thought.

He‟d intruded on a private matter. Was peeping into their life and videotaping it right?

He‟d thought so at the time. Now he wasn‟t so sure.

But if you saw something wrong, was it ever right to turn away and just mind your own damn business?

On the other hand, had exposure robbed them of the chance of working things out?

Jack shook his whirling head. What had seemed so clearly black and white a few days ago had blurred to gray in the middle. If he could go back in time a week, he wondered, would he do the same thing?

Yeah, he decided, hearing again the smack against Sally‟s wet suit, seeing her knocked down.

Yeah, he probably would. It would still seem like the right thing to do. But he knew now that doing the right thing didn‟t guarantee a rosy outcome. Or a warm fuzzy feeling.

He caught Sally staring at him. He forced a smile and managed to give her a little wave. She waved back.

But she didn‟t smile.

2

“Hi, Jack.” He‟d been following Weezy and Eddie onto the bus, lost in thought and feeling glum. He looked and saw Karina, with her engineer‟s cap, baggy sweater, and jeans, smiling up at him from a window seat. The aisle seat next to her was empty.

“Oh, hi.”

“Need a seat?” she said, her eyes inviting.

He looked around. “Where‟s Cristin?”

“Not feeling so hot.”

He spotted Eddie slipping into an empty seat and Weezy heading for her

sophomore friends toward the rear. So he stowed his backpack under the seat and

dropped in next to Karina.

“I heard they found Cody last night,” she said.

Swell. She listened to the morning news. Then he realized that if anyone on this bus listened, it would be Karina.

“Yeah. Great news.”

“What happened? Who found him?”

Okay, play it cool.

“Couple of local kids.”

He hid a smile, wondering at her reaction when she discovered she‟d been sitting next to one of those kids and he hadn‟t told her. She‟d probably think that was pretty cool.

He found he liked the idea of Karina thinking him cool.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Eddie holding out his Rubik‟s.

“Okay, boy genius. I give up. You‟ve been talking big. Let‟s see you deliver.”

Jack took it and turned it over this way and that, saying, “Boy, you really messed it up.”

“Yeah. It‟s a gift. I did my part, now you do yours.”

“I‟ll have it back to you by the time we get to school.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Jack looked up at him. “You doubt my Rubik-fu?”

“Hey, if you can straighten that out by school, I‟ll carry you from class to class on my back.”

“Deal.”

The driver gave Eddie her no-standing-in-the-aisle line, so he returned to his seat.

Karina stared at the cube. “Can you really straighten that out by school?”

He smiled. “Of course not.”

“Then why … ?”

He pulled his backpack from beneath the seat, unzipped it, and removed a new, unused Rubik‟s Cube.

“I‟ve been setting him up for this all week.”

Karina slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “You are eeeeevil!”

“A regular devil in disguise,” he said as he hid the old cube in his backpack.

“Oh that‟s so funny! He‟s going to totally plotz when he sees it.” She laughed again. “First Cody, now this. Almost makes up for that awfulness at the VFW last night.”

Jack nearly jumped out of his seat. “How‟d you hear about that?”

“My dad‟s a vet. He was there. I heard him telling my mother.”

Jack realized he‟d never met Karina‟s father, so he couldn‟t have known.

“How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged. “Serves him right.”

Her lack of hesitation surprised Jack. Then he remembered Mrs. V‟s words and decided to bounce them off Karina.

“But … someone invaded their privacy.”

“Yeah, true, but he was running for public office. Don‟t people have a right to know who they‟re voting for? I want to know everything about anybody who‟s going to be making decisions that affect me.”

“Everyone‟s got a right to privacy.”

She nodded. “Absolutely. But if you want privacy, don‟t go public. A man with a secret life shouldn‟t step into the spotlight and expect to keep his secrets.”

Jack had a secret life—things he couldn‟t talk about to anyone. He vowed then never to run for any sort of public office.

But didn‟t everyone have a secret life? Even the animal in the buried town had had a secret life.

“I think it comes down to truth,” she added. “Isn‟t the truth important?”

“Very.”

She raised a fist. “Truth.”

“But what mi struth?” he asked, just to see how she‟d react.

“The truth is.”

He waited. She said no more, simply watched him, smiling.

“That‟s it?”

She nodded. “Yep. The truth is. We can twist it every which way with our minds and our words, but that doesn‟t change the truth. The truth is what trips you up when you walk around with your eyes closed.”

I like you, Karina Haddon, Jack thought.

“You‟re a thinker, aren‟t you.”

She frowned. “Been told I think too much.”

He nudged her. “Well, someone‟s got to make up for all the people who don‟t think at all.”

She leaned against him as she laughed. He liked the feeling and liked the sound. “Thank you!

I‟ll use that next time I‟m accused of thinking too much.”

“Who tells you that?”

Her smile faded. “My father, mostly.”

That rang a familiar bell.

“Wants you to be a bow-head?”

Her jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

“I know someone with the same problem.”

“Really? How does she deal with it?”

He glanced back at Weezy, reading a book.

“She stays herself.”

“Not easy sometimes.”

He nudged her. “Stay you. You‟re great just the way you are.”

Instantly sure he‟d said too much, he wanted to recall those last words. But then he saw Karina give a secret little fist pump and knew it was okay.

They sat in silence a moment and Jack thought about what Weezy had said.

Don’t you feel that a circle has closed?

Yeah. More than one.

He thought about how complicated his life had become—a series of intersecting circles all leading back to that strange little pyramid.

Was it good or evil, or like what they‟d been learning about in chemistry: a catalyst …

something that kicked off reactions?

One circle had led to the deaths of a number of Lodge members—one of them a freeholder—but had exposed Steve Brussard‟s problems. If Steve was getting help, that was a good thing.

But the death of that freeholder had led Mr. Vivino to run for his spot, and accidentally brought Jack back into the circle of Tony‟s family. Jack had thought that had resolved to a good end until talking to Mrs. V this morning. Now he wasn‟t so sure.

Another pyramid circle had led them to the Lodge last night. Because of that, Cody Bockman was alive and with his folks this morning. He‟d have drowned if Jack and Weezy hadn‟t gone looking for the pyramid.

Circles within circles … wheels within wheels … gears in the machinery of his life, turning and turning.

Was that what the pyramid was—a catalyst?

If so, maybe losing it was a good thing.

Or maybe not.

The last couple of months had been pretty interesting.

May you live in interesting times… wasn‟t that an old Chinese curse?

But Karina … none of the circles involved her. She was outside the pyramid zone. And that seemed a good thing.

He liked being with her. She was like Weezy in some ways—smart, opinionated, a thinker—but different in others. He liked her slant on things.

May you live in interesting times…

Jack sensed he had more interesting times ahead. He just hoped they weren‟t too interesting.

Document Outline

Repairman Jack - Jack: Secret Circles

Cover

Title Page

Praise for Jack: Secret Circles

SATURDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

SUNDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

THE MYSTERY MACHINE

MONDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

TUESDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

WEDNESDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

THURSDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

FRIDAY

Chapter 01

Chapter 02