Jack: Secret Vengeance

by F. Paul Wilson

Jack watched Weezy’s face as Eddie rattled on and saw a look of growing awe.

  “It’s true then? It’s all anyone’s talking about?”

  “True,” Jack said, then turned to Eddie. “Where are you going to be first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “You kidding? Right by Carson’s locker with everybody else. I bet the whole school’ll be there, waiting for him to open it.”

  Jack said, “What do you think he’ll find inside?”

  Eddie’s grin was fierce. “Nothing! Nobody’s getting into that locker. He’s got the bastard beat!” He sobered. “Just wished he’d beat him one day sooner. Maybe we would have won the game.”

  Weezy’s voice dripped scorn. “That’s all it took to make your boy hero blow the game? A couple of jokes and he falls apart?”

  “He didn’t fall apart! It just messed up his concentration!”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He never seemed that … fragile. Got to be more than that. And who says it has to be NBR? Maybe it’s personal.”

  “Against Carson? He’s the coolest guy in school. Everybody likes him. You’d know that if you weren’t hiding here in the Bat Cave.”

  Color flushed into Weezy’s pale cheeks. She looked ready to explode.

  “I think you’re wrong, Eddie,” Jack said. “I think Toliver’s going to have another little present waiting in his locker.”

  “Wanna bet? Five bucks says no way.”

  Jack nodded. “You’re on.” He turned to Weezy. “How about you, Weez? Gonna miss seeing Carson Toliver get smacked down again?”

  Eddie looked at her. “What’ve you got against Carson?”

  “Nothing,” Weezy said quickly, then stared at Jack. “But that’s tempting. That’s very tempting.”

  Eddie waved his hands in the air and danced in a circle. “Hallelujah!” he cried with a Foghorn Leghorn drawl. “She’s steppin’ out—Ah said, she’s steppin’ outa th’darkness and inta th’light! Hallelujah!”

  “I didn’t say I would,” Weezy told him. “I might. And then again, I might not.”

  Eddie hurried from the room, still in preacher mode. “Hallelujah! If Sister Weezy—Ah say, if Sister Weezy can leave the Bat Cave, the Eagles—Ah say, the Eagles can beat the Colts!”

  Jack laughed, but Weezy only shook her head.

  “He’s such a dork,” she said.

  “And he’s wrong about Toliver’s locker. There will be a surprise inside. And then he’ll go from honcho to loser.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she seemed to be studying him as she replied. “How can you be so sure?”

  Uh-oh. Had to be careful here.

  “Because whoever this Mystery Marauder is, he’s beaten Toliver every time. Why should this be any different?”

  “Well, from what you told me about the lock…”

  “Yeah. It’s a tough one, but I’m betting he’ll get around it.” He touched her arm. “You should be there to see. You really should.”

  He wanted her to see it. Toliver had become a Big Bad Boogie Man in her mind. If she saw him taken down in front of the whole school, maybe he’d go from Boogie Man to plain old booger.

  She kept staring at him. “I probably should.”

  He grinned. “Then you’re coming back to school?”

  “I’m … I’m not sure. You’ve got me thinking about it, but if you’re wrong about the ‘Easy Weezy’ thing—”

  “I’m not. I guarantee it.”

  As soon as the words left Jack’s mouth, he wished them back. He could not guarantee it. And if Toliver opened an un-booby-trapped locker tomorrow, people might start remembering “Easy Weezy.”

  He prayed the nail polish remover was working.

  “So…” he said slowly, “are we going to see you at the bus stop tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to see how tomorrow feels.”

  He guessed that was as much of a commitment as he was going to get, so he didn’t push.

  On his way downstairs he heard Mr. Connell in the kitchen.

  “Eddie told me Weezy says she might go to school tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Connell said, “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

  Jack paused, waiting to hear them credit him with the miracle.

  But instead Mrs. Connell said, “Doctor Hamilton told us the pills would take at least a week to work. It’s only been a few days.”

  “I’m not going to complain if they work quicker. Are you?”

  “Heavens, no!”

  Jack hurried the rest of the way down the stairs and out the front door.

  Pills? The doctor had put Weezy on medication?

  That must have been where she and her mom had gone on Wednesday. Jack didn’t know if he liked the idea of Weezy being drugged up by her folks. Then again, after what Jack had heard outside her house Monday night, maybe she needed it.

  Poor Weezy … what was wrong with her?

  10

  Oh, crap.

  Jack stood at the workbench in his garage and tried to force the shim into the shackle hole of one of the Toliverized locks. It wouldn’t budge. He tried the second with equal lack of success.

  The nail polish remover had done nothing.

  He turned the locks over and tried to pry out the tacks.

  Nothing!

  He cocked his arm to hurl one of them across the garage but stopped himself. What would that prove?

  Think! Think! Think! he told himself as he began pacing back and forth. There has to be a way.

  But he kept coming up blank until his pacing took him past the hacksaw hanging on a nail in the wall. He stopped and stared at it. Then he turned and looked at the extra tube of Krazy Glue on the workbench.

  Maybe … just maybe …

  He grabbed the saw and went to work on the shackle of one of the Toliverized locks. The thin blade quickly cut into the shiny metal. He stopped and stared at the grooves in both sides of the loop, then continued until the curved top fell off.

  Okay, with that cut off, he’d be able to open the locker. But a big question remained: After he’d done his business inside and reclosed the door, would he be able to Krazy Glue the shackle back together again?

  He applied the glue to the cut edges and pressed them together, holding them in place for a couple of minutes. When he let go, the bond held …

  But the result looked terrible. No way that patch job would fool anyone, not even from ten feet away.

  “Crap!”

  Now he hurled the lock across the garage. It bounced off the opposite wall with a solid thunk!

  What was he going to do? He had to open the lock and close it again with no sign that it had been touched. Nothing less would do.

  And it wasn’t going to happen, because it was impossible. At least with the tools at his disposal.

  Fury and frustration exploded within. He was looking around for something to kick when he heard his mother calling from the back door.

  “Jack? What are you doing out there?”

  “Just messing with stuff.”

  “Weezy’s on the phone.”

  Weezy?

  He trotted inside and grabbed the receiver from the counter where his mother had left it.

  “Hey, Weez. What’s up?”

  “I have got to get out of here. Want to go for a ride?”

  He glanced out the window. The sun had set, dark was falling, but there was still light left.

  “Sure. Meet you at the corner.”

  11

  Jack found Weezy waiting on the corner of Adams and North Franklin.

  “Thanks for coming. I’m going stir-crazy in the house but my folks didn’t want me out alone. And really, I didn’t feel like being alone.”

  “Any time. But I thought they wouldn’t let you out.”

  “I told them I’m going to school tomorrow and so they said okay.”

  “Are you?”

  “I think so.”

  Jack decided to leave it at that.

  “Where to?”


  “Let’s just ride. I need air.”

  “Air?” he said with a laugh as they rolled toward Quakerton. “Since when does Weezy Connell need air?”

  She smiled. “It’s night air, mister. Night air.”

  “That explains it.”

  Jack wondered if the after-sundown timing was because she’d be less visible.

  They cruised down toward the lake and into Old Town.

  They were passing the Lodge when the sound of a car on the rickety boards of the bridge made them turn. A new Mustang convertible was coming their way.

  “Ohmigod!” Weezy whispered, shrinking behind a tree trunk. “It’s him!”

  Jack felt fury rise again. Weezy shouldn’t have to be afraid of anyone. He watched the car cruise toward the end of Quakerton, then turn into the Pines.

  “He’s gone,” he said. “I don’t think he saw us.”

  “Was he alone?”

  Jack shook his head. “Don’t know.”

  “He could have a girl with him … someone who doesn’t suspect…”

  Jack didn’t know where it came from, but he felt a fierce urge to follow the car.

  In Mr. Kressy’s class he’d offered “do the right thing” as a guiding principle. Well, the right thing wasn’t to turn a blind eye to what might be happening, or about to happen.

  “Maybe we should follow.”

  “No way,” Weezy said. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”

  “You don’t have to be. If he’s got a girl with him, we know where he’s going.”

  “And what do we do when we get there?”

  “Make sure he doesn’t treat her like he treated you.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he couldn’t stand here and simply hope for the best. Someone had to stop the guy.

  “Maybe she was one of the ones calling me ‘Easy Weezy.’ Maybe she’s got the same thing in mind he has. He’s Mister Hot to most of the girls.”

  “If that’s the case, then it’s none of our business.” He looked at her. “Coming?”

  She shook her head. She looked cowed. “I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. See you tomorrow.”

  Jack kicked off and started pedaling. He’d gone maybe a hundred feet when he heard a noise. He turned and saw a grim-faced Weezy riding half a dozen feet behind him. He nodded. She nodded back.

  12

  Dusk had faded toward night, making it easy to follow Toliver’s taillights without being seen. He drove slowly, weaving back and forth along the sandy firebreaks. Jack suspected he might be heading back toward the dead zone. He told Weezy about his solo trip into the Pines and the strange behavior of the lights.

  “You followed lumens without me?” she said. “That’s not fair!”

  “I had no way of letting you know, and last time I tried to get you into the woods you blew me off.”

  “Sorry I’m such a jerk.”

  Jack could tell by her tone she meant it.

  “Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

  She shook her head. “Never. But then, nobody knows anything about lumens. Some ‘experts’ say they don’t even exist.”

  Jack started to reply just as Toliver slowed near the hidden, rutted path.

  “Let’s hold up here.”

  They stopped and watched as he pulled into it.

  “What now?” she said in a low voice.

  Jack gave that a moment’s thought, then …

  “We ditch the bikes and follow on foot.”

  Jack pushed his bike into the underbrush. It wouldn’t have hidden it during the day, but here in the dark it was fine. He turned and found Weezy still standing next to hers.

  “I’m scared. That was where…”

  “It’s okay, Weez. Wait here.”

  He heard her take a deep breath. “No. I’m coming.”

  She hid her bike next to Jack’s and followed him onto the hidden path. He walked the right rut, she the left.

  They found the car parked facing the dead zone. The engine was off but the headlights stayed on. The wash from the lights silhouetted only one head in the front seat. Toliver appeared to be alone.

  Suddenly the driver door swung open. Jack and Weezy dropped into a crouch. Weezy’s hand was cold and damp where she clutched his arm.

  Toliver got out of the car and staggered toward the mysterious clearing. When he stepped into the headlight beams, Jack spotted a familiar-looking bottle dangling from his right hand. Only a little clear liquid sloshed within.

  He stepped through the ebony spleenwort and into the open area. With the headlights casting weird, elongated shadows beyond him, he stumbled around, kicking at the bare earth.

  “What’s going on?” he shouted to no one. “What’s going ON?”

  Jack watched in amazement. What was going on?

  Toliver dropped to his knees and looked for a moment as if he might be praying.

  To whom? Jack wondered. Or to what?

  Was he somehow connected to this place where nothing would grow, where animals wouldn’t walk and ants wouldn’t nest?

  Then he began pounding the dirt, screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

  He fell silent but stayed on his knees. Then he screamed again.

  “You’re ruining my life! It was an accident! I didn’t mean it! Leave me alone!”

  “Who’s he talking to?” Weezy whispered.

  All Jack could think of was Toliver asking Mrs. Clevenger about someone being haunted, and Saree’s words about piney blood on Toliver’s hands, and now here he was in the Pines, talking to the air about an accident and for someone or something to leave him alone and—

  Weezy’s grip on his arm tightened.

  “Listen! He’s … he’s crying.”

  Sure enough, tortured sobs were coming from the clearing. Abruptly they broke off as Toliver lurched to his feet.

  “You’re not gonna ruin my life! No way! I’m not letting you!”

  Then with a wordless scream that made Jack jump and Weezy squeeze his arm even harder, he threw his bottle and smashed it against the big oak beyond the clearing.

  As he began to stagger back to his car, Weezy tugged on Jack’s arm and the two of them hurried back to the firebreak trail in a crouch. They hid in the brush until the Mustang rolled by, heading back toward Johnson.

  They freed their bikes and followed Toliver’s weaving path. The guy was drunk as a skunk and should have been anywhere but behind the wheel. Jack wondered if he’d make it home before ramming a tree. But he was driving slowly.

  “What did we just see?” Jack said.

  “I have no idea.”

  “One thing’s for sure: That’s one screwed-up guy.”

  “I already knew that,” Weezy said. “But he’s losing it. Completely losing it.”

  “Sounds to me like he’s already lost it.”

  She was silent a moment, then, “I think I want to see what happens at his locker tomorrow.”

  Jack’s heart leaped, but only for an instant. Then it crashed.

  Great that Weezy was going to be there, but Jack had no way past that lock.

  The big show was going to be a bust. Operation Toliver was going to go down in flames.

  Crap.

  13

  He stood in the garage and stared in dismay at the workbench. He’d sawed through the shackle of the second Toliverized lock, but very carefully this time, making as clean a cut as possible, flush against the top of the body of the lock. Then he’d glued it back together, but no go: The seam still looked way too obvious.

  He stepped back to the other side of the garage, but he could see it even from there. And the light would be better in the locker area.

  He was forced to admit it: Toliver’s lock had beaten him. The major coup he’d planned was out of the question.

  But that didn’t mean Toliver was home
free. No way. One way or another he was going to find something ugly in his locker tomorrow. Jack would saw off the lock, place the surprise, then glue the shackle back together. He had a chance, a very slight one, that no one would notice the seam. Maybe it looked obvious to Jack just because he knew it was there.

  Nah. No use in kidding himself. If no one else spotted it, Toliver surely would when he got close. And he’d point it out. And then the ugly surprise would no longer be a surprise, merely ugly.

  Toliver would have a moral victory: He’ll have forced the Mystery Marauder to abandon sleight of hand and resort to naked force.

  Crap-crap-crap!

  Jack walked back to the workbench but halfway there he froze as the solution, blinding in its simplicity, hit him like a wrecking ball.

  He could do it.

  Yes!

  MONDAY

  1

  Jack sat on the school bus and stared glumly through the window at the teeming rain.

  He should have been buzzed with the prospect of Toliver discovering the surprise he’d left him, but just the opposite. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe because he was dead tired after his trip to the school at two A.M.

  Nah. He knew what it was.

  Weezy hadn’t shown up at the stop this morning. Neither had Eddie, for that matter.

  He’d been doing this for her and now she’d let him down.

  No, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t know he had anything to do with it, so he couldn’t take her staying home personally. Still, he thought he’d brought her around last night.

  Last night … how weird was that? What had Toliver been doing in that dead zone? Kneeling and screaming … to whom or what? The ghost he’d thought was haunting him? If he’d only said a name, it would have cleared up so many questions.

  But one thing was clear: He was losing it. He’d sounded inches away from a nervous breakdown. But he’d probably be his usual fine-and-dandy self when he walked into school this morning.

  Jack shook his head as the bus turned into the school lot. The world continued to make less and less sense.

  He pulled up the hood on his yellow nor’easter slicker and ran through the downpour, straight from the bus to the locker area where a crowd had already gathered. He skipped the trip to the boys’ room to lock the window. He wanted a good vantage point. He found one and settled in to wait.