F. Wilson - Secret Circles

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!