F. Wilson - Secret Histories

“Uh-huh.” He seemed to be only half listening.

“See ya,” he said and headed for the door.

When he reached the hal way he looked back and saw Mr. B pul a key ring from his pocket and lock the humidor in the liquor cabinet.

What was in that little box that needed to be locked up?

He suspects something, Jack thought as trotted toward home.

He’d have to be careful.

He was a block away when he realized he’d just missed a perfect opportunity to

expose Steve’s problem. He could have said something to his father,

something like, Idon’tthinkSteve’sfeelingsohot. That would have sent Mr. B

down to check on him. Or at least he thought so. He knew his own dad would be downstairs in a flash. But the terror of almost getting caught had

blanked his mind.

Which meant the Steve problem remained. Jack had done nothing to solve it. He’d think of something. And soon.

Night was fal ing by the time he reached his house. He noticed that Tom’s car

was gone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t left a little surprise for Jack. He waved to his parents as they watched FalconCrest. Family drama was not

Dad’s favorite by a long shot, but Mom loved it—Jack had even heard her humming the theme music now and again.

“That was a quick trip,” Dad said.

“Yeah, wel , Steve wasn’t in the mood.”

He laughed. “You guys better get cranking. Once you start high school you’re not

going to have much spare time.”

It occurred to Jack that tonight might have been a good time to try his new

lock-picking skil s on Dad’s lockbox, but things had turned hectic at USED and he’d forgotten to bring home the picks. Maybe tomorrow. Anyway, he wasn’t

in a lock-picking mood.

Like last night, he checked his bedroom door for booby traps. Finding none, he

stepped inside, turned on the light, and looked around. Unlike last night, he had no sense that the room had changed. Everything seemed just as he’d left

it.

Then he remembered the Xeroxes of the tracings Weezy had given him for

safekeeping. He’d stuck them in the top drawer of his desk before running off to USED this afternoon. He’d been running late and hadn’t hidden them as

he’d promised.

He quick-stepped to his desk and yanked open the drawer. Relief—stil there.

Then he wondered why he was relieved. Why would they be anywhere but where he’d left them?

But he’d promised to hide them, and his top drawer wasn’t exactly hidden. Had

to find a safer spot.

Safer …

Listen to me, he thought. I’m starting to think like Weezy.

As he began looking around for a hiding place, he noticed his open window. He

checked the screen—stil latched as he’d left it last night. Wel , of

course it would be. Who besides Tom would have any reason to want to sneak

into his room.

Stil …

He turned out the bedroom light, then pul ed out the bottom drawer of his

dresser and dropped the papers into the space beneath. Then he replaced the drawer. Not the safest hiding place in the world, but the best he could come up

with on such short notice.

As he stepped toward the light switch by the door he remembered Weezy’s

remark about seeing someone in her backyard last night. Not terribly

surprising, coming from Weezy. But what if …?

He started tiptoeing toward the window, then stopped.

Why am I tiptoeing?

He walked the rest of the way, then crouched until the sil was at chin level. The moonlit cornfield looked just the same as last night. Nothing moving. But he

realized anyone standing in the corn rows would be as good as

invisible and stil have a clear view of his room. That had never occurred to him

before, and it gave him a crawly feeling in his gut.

Thanks a lot, Weez.

He shook off the feeling. Sil y. Nobody out there.

Stil , he pul ed the shade, then undressed in the dark. He crawled under the

covers before turning on his bedside lamp. He wanted to let the Spider take him away from al these spooky feelings. The Spider’s world was safe in that if

things got too weird, Jack could always close the cover.

But real life had no covers. What did you do when life got too weird?

“Jack! Jack, wake up!”

Jack opened his eyes in the dark. An insistent tapping accompanied the frantic,

harshly whispered words.

“Come on, Jack! Wake up!”

Where was he? He felt the pil ow under his head, the sheet pul ed up to his

shoulders …

Bed.

“Jack, please!”

He jackknifed to a sitting position. The voice … coming from the window. He

looked and his heart jumped when he saw a head silhouetted in the

moonlight.

“Who?”

“It’s me—Weezy. You’ve got to—”

“Weez? What are you doing out there?”

“Helicopters, Jack! Over the Pines. They were carrying some kind of equipment.” “So?”

“They’re right over our mound!”

A second head appeared at the window.

“C’mon, Jack.” Eddie’s voice. “We’re gonna go take a look.”

Jack glanced at his clock radio: 1:10 in the morning.

“Are you guys nuts?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Nutsacious. And so are you. That’s why we’re here.” Weezy said, “We’ve got our bikes. So get dressed. Wear dark clothes. Let’s go!” “Do you know how dark it is in there?”

“We’ve got flashlights. Bring another. Come on. We’ve got to see what they’re

doing to our mound.”

Jack thought for a second. He didn’t know how Weezy knew they were over the mound, but he did know his folks would kil him if they found out he’d

sneaked off into the Barrens at night.

But what were helicopters doing over their mound in the middle of the night? What couldn’t wait until morning?

He jumped out of bed.

Wel , why not? Not like he was going to be able to get back to sleep now anyway.

“Be right there.”

As usual, Weezy led the way. She kept her flashlight beam trained ahead as she rode, but Jack figured she knew the trail so wel she probably could have

found her way by the moonlight.

He stayed close behind, holding his own light in reserve, in case Weezy’s ran out. Eddie brought up the rear.

“Look,” Weezy cal ed back, flashing her beam along the sand. “Tire tracks. And recent too.”

Jack saw what she meant. Some of the deeper sand stirred up by the tires was stil dark and damp. The cars or pickups or whatever they were had to

have come through within the hour.

At first the Barrens had been dark and silent, the overhanging pine branches blotting out al but a few rays of moonlight. But neither lasted.

The silence was the first to go.

They were passing the trapper’s spong, and Jack was wondering if he’d reset the traps, when he began to hear a faint, low-pitched thrumming noise

that grew steadily louder as they rode. This graduated to the unmistakable whup-whup-whup of helicopters.

And then Jack began to catch flashes of bright light through the upper branches. He couldn’t imagine where they could be coming from until he realized

the copters were using their searchlights to light up the ground.

Without warning, Weezy veered to the side and hopped off her bike. She was leaning it against a tree when Jack pul ed up beside her.

“Why’re we stopping?” he said, raising his voice over the racket.

Weezy motioned her brother to get off his bike. “We should walk from here.”

“Bikes are faster,” Eddie said.