F. Wilson - Secret Circles

“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.