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 throu
gh 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.
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