F. Paul Wilson - Quick Fixes - Tales of Repairman Jack

He glanced at the sun sliding down the western sky. Every year, people – mostly hunters – entered the Barrens and were never seen again. Folks assumed they got lost and starved. No big surprise in a million-plus acres of mostly uninhabited pine forest. If a vanilla sky moved in, you could lose all sense of direction and wander in circles for days. But with the sun visible, Jack knew all he had to do was keep heading west and he’d hit civilization.

“I’ll manage somehow. See you later.”

He watched her turn her Schwinn, straddle the banana seat, and ride off with a wave. After the trees had swallowed her, Jack turned off the fire trail and began following the tire tracks along the narrow passage – little more than two ruts separated by a grassy ridge and flanked by the forty-foot scrub pines that dominated the Barrens. They formed a thick wall, crowding the edges of the path, reaching over him with their crooked, scraggly branches.

The passage forked and the tracks bore to the right. A half dozen feet into the fork he spotted another reflector. At the next fork the tracks bore left, and sure enough, another reflector.

Odd. He’d figured the first had been a marker for the starting point of the trail. Grass and trees could thicken over a growing season and obscure what had once been an obvious opening. But whoever had come along here this morning was marking every turn, placing reflectors where headlights would pick them up as they approached. That meant he was planning to come back in the dark. Maybe tonight. Maybe many nights.

Why?

Jack found the answer a half mile farther on where the tire tracks ended in a clearing with a large, solitary oak in its center. Near its base someone had dumped a dozen or more 55-gallon oil drums – old ones, rusted, banged up, and leaky.

He jumped at the sound of a car engine roaring his way. A few seconds later a weird-looking contraption bounced into the clearing on the far side. It had the frame of a small Jeep, maybe a Wrangler, with no roof, sides, or hood. The engine was exposed, though the firewall was still in place, and instead of a steering wheel, someone had fixed a long-handled wrench to the column. The front and rear seats had been replaced by a pair of ratty-looking sofas occupied by three kids in their mid teens. Jack recognized the driver: Elvin Neolin from his civics class. He’d seen the other boy around school as well, but the white-haired girl was new.

Pineys.

They lived out here in the woods. Some had jobs in the towns around the Pines, and some lived off the land – hunting, fishing, gardening. All were poor and a few were a little scary looking in their mismatched, ill-fitting clothes and odd features. Hard to say why they seemed odd. Not like they had bug eyes and snaggle teeth; more like looking at a reflection in one of those old-time mirrors where the glass wasn’t even.

Some folks called them inbreds, talking about brothers and sisters getting together and having kids. Jack didn’t know if any of that was true. People liked to talk, and some people just naturally exaggerated as they went along. But no one could deny that some Pineys didn’t look quite right.

The kid riding shotgun was Levi Coffin, a sophomore at SRB High. Coffin was an old Quaker name that Jack envied. Jack Coffin… how cool to have a name like that.

Levi jumped out and strode toward Jack. He was tall and lanky, and his clothes were too short in the arms and legs. His mismatched eyes – one blue and one brown – blazed.

“This your doin’?”

Jack tensed. Levi looked a little scary.

“No way. I just got here.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, north. “Followed tire tracks from back there. They ended here.”

Levi glanced over his shoulder at Elvin who was staring his way. Elvin was on the short side with piercing dark eyes, stiff black hair, and high cheekbones. Looked like he might have some Lenape Indian in him.

Their eyes locked, then Levi turned away, muttering, “All right, all right.”

What’s that all about? Jack wondered.

Levi inspected the tire tracks while Elvin hopped out and walked over to the drums. Jack sensed the white-haired girl staring at him from the buggy. He realized with a start that she had pink irises. White hair… milk-white skin… what was that called…?

Albino… she was an albino.

“I can’t see him, Levi,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

Was she blind?

“What?” Levi swiveled to stare at Jack.

Elvin was struggling with the top to one of the drums. He looked toward Levi who turned back, then gave his head a sideways jerk toward Jack.

Elvin nodded, saying, “Hey, Levi. Gimme a hand.”

Levi walked over and touched the lid – barely touched it – and it popped loose.

Jack felt a funny sensation ripple down his spine as he remembered an incident in school with Levi. Something way strange here. He hesitated, then started toward the drums as the two boys lifted the lid. They dropped it when they saw what was inside.

“Damn!” Levi said. “Damn them to hell!”

Jack might have quipped about where else you could damn someone to, but the rage in Levi’s voice warned him off. He stepped up and saw the thick, cloudy green liquid; his nose stung from the sharp chemical odor.

“What is it?”

“Some sort of toxic crap,” Levi said. “They’re using this spot as a dumping ground.”

“Who?”

“Crooks from upstate. We’ve found stuff like this before.”

Jack said, “Better than dumping it in some river, I guess.”

Levi glared at him and pointed to a barrel on its side. The sand near its top was wet with gunk.

“That one’s leaking. It sinks into the ground water. And guess who gets their water from wells out here. We do. But who cares about Pineys.”

Jack understood some of the reaction. Kids at school tended to rag on the Pineys, make fun of their clothes, joke about the brother-sister connections. But Jack wasn’t one of those and didn’t like being lumped in with them.

“No fair.”

Another look passed between Levi and Elvin, and then Levi shrugged. “Forget it. El says you’re okay.”

Fine, but Jack hadn’t heard El say anything.

“We should tell the cops,” Jack said. “My sister used to date a deputy and–”

Levi and Elvin and the girl were shaking their heads… same direction, same speed, moving as one. Jack was getting creeped.

“Uh-uh,” Levi said. “Cops ain’t gonna go patrolling the Pines looking for someone they don’t know, who might or might not come back.”

“Oh, they’ll be back.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“Because they marked the path with reflectors.”

“Yeah? Show us.”

As Jack reached for his bike, Elvin pointed to the weird buggy. “With us.”

“You’re old enough to drive?”

The two boys laughed.

“Plenty old enough to drive,” Levi said. Elvin never said much at school and didn’t seem to have much more to say out here. “Just not old enough for a license.”

“Aren’t you af–?” Jack began, then cut himself off. Afraid of being caught? Out here? By what – the Jersey Devil in a sheriff’s Stetson? Stupid question.

He spotted a “Piney Power” sticker on the rusted rear bumper.

“What’s that mean?”

Levi shrugged. “Some folks hereabouts think Pineys should get organized and vote and all that.” He glanced at Elvin. “We just like the sound of it.”

Elvin laughed. “Yeah. Sounds cool.”

The girl said nothing, simply stared at him.

Jack gave the buggy another once-over. Without sides, a top, or even a roll bar, it had to be the most dangerous car he’d ever seen. He’d be risking his life in that thing.