“But you were heading west when we saw you.”
He stopped and shook his head. “I guess I was.”
Jack pointed up at the thick low clouds. “That"s what a vanilla sky will do to you.”
“Vanilla sky?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. Overcast and all one color. And since the Barrens are mostly flat with no landmarks, people get lost all the time.”
“Vanilla sky …” He looked up. “That"s why I haven"t been able to find my way out of here.
Damn clouds. If you don"t know where the sun is, you can"t tell your directions.”
“That"s why they make compasses,” Jack said.
The guy didn"t appreciate the remark. He gave Jack a look. “I know that, kid.”
“There"s always moss,” Weezy said.
He frowned. “Moss?”
“Sure. Check tree trunks for moss. It"s always thickest on the north face.”
“Oh, hell!” He slapped a palm against his forehead. “I know that! Or at least I did once. How could I have forgotten? Not that it matters, because I am never, ever going in there again.”
“Did it stink?” Weezy said. “The thing, I mean?”
The man stared at her. “To high heavens. How did you know?”
Weezy glanced at Jack. “We saw something like that last month.”
“Did it come with floating lights?”
Weezy stiffened. “You saw lights?”
“Yeah. When I was parked in that tree. Two glowing blobs, like maybe the size of softballs.
They floated along the tree-tops and circled near me while that thing was bashing the trunk.”
“Pine lights,” Jack said.
“They"re also called lumens,” Weezy added.
Jack frowned. “Where"s it say that?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I have my sources.”
He didn"t doubt it. Weezy read stuff hardly anyone else had even heard of.
“They"re a kind of ball lightning,” he told the man.
He shook his head. “I can"t buy that. These things didn"t act like any kind of electricity I"ve ever seen.” His expression was unsettled as he looked at Jack and Weezy. “They floated off as the rain began, but as they were hovering there, over me and the beast, I almost got the feeling they were … watching.”
7
“Oh, thank God!” the man cried as they broke from the trees and the Old Town section of Johnson came into view. “Civilization!”
“Such as it is,” Weezy muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
The man dropped to his knees and sobbed.
Jack looked away, embarrassed for him. He"d hoped to find Gus Sooy still here so he could give the man a ride down to the highway where they could call the sheriff"s department. But no sign of his battered old pickup. Must have sold off his applejack and gone back to his home in the Pines.
“Only a little farther,” Weezy said.
“I can"t. I"m all in. Go call for help. I"ll wait here. As long as I"m out of those damn woods and can see houses, I"ll be okay.”
So Jack and Weezy left their bikes and started going door to door, but no one seemed to be home, including Mrs. Clevenger. They didn"t try the Klenke house, of course.
“Where is everybody?” he asked Weezy.
She shrugged. “It"s a nice day for a change. Maybe they"re out catching some rays.” She got a funny look in her eyes as she stared over his shoulder. “Let"s try … there.”
He turned and followed her gaze to the boxy, two-story white building that sat on a rise overlooking Quaker Lake—the lake it owned.
“The Lodge?”
“There"s a car in front.”
True enough. A big gray Bentley limousine was parked by the front entrance. After the murders involving Lodge members last month, two men had moved in. The building had been there as long as anyone could remember, but no one could recall anyone ever living there. Meetings galore, yes, but no residents.
“Tell me you"re not thinking what I think you"re thinking.”
She glanced at him. “Of course I am. This is a golden opportunity. We have a perfectly good reason for asking to use the phone. Once we"re inside we can look around for signs of our pyramid. Carpe diem, Jack.”
He knew that meant “seize the day.” Fine. They could seize the day, but he doubted very much they"d carpe the pyramid.
“Okay. Let"s do it. But I"ll bet you we don"t cross the threshold.”
“We have to, Jack.” Her tone tightened. “It"s ours and they took it.”
As they approached the building, Jack realized he"d never been this close. Someone kept it in excellent shape. The stucco walls were clean with no obvious cracks, the paint job fresh looking.
The grass needed a good trim, though. And the foundation plantings were looking weedy.
He got a closer look at the big round seal—or sigil, as Dad called it—of the Ancient Septimus Fraternal Order over the pillared front entrance.
Jack had always found its eye-crossing design vaguely disturbing. As he stared at
it he thought he saw a face appear in one of the windows above it, but it disappeared so quickly he wasn"t sure if it had been real or a trick of the light.
“All right,” he said in a low voice. “Let me do the talking.”
“You don"t trust me?”
“Let"s just say you"re not the greatest at hiding your feelings.”
He knocked on the door and realized it was steel. After ten seconds with no
response, he was reaching out for another go when it opened. A thick-bodied,
thick-necked man with reddish crew-cut hair stared down at them. He wore some sort of butler getup.
“May I help you?” he said with a German accent.
“May we come in and use your phone?” Jack said, pouring on humble politeness.
“We
need to call the police.”
“The Order"s phones are not for public use.”
As the man started to close the door a voice from within said, “Come, come,
Eggers.” It carried just a hint of an accent. Perhaps German as well? “Someone must need help.” As the door opened wider, the butler stepped back to be replaced by a tall thin man all in white—white suit, white shirt, white tie. He had a tight-skinned face with a high forehead and a hook nose. His shiny black hair started with a widow"s peak and was slicked straight back. His cold blue eyes fixed on Jack as his thin lips curved into a smile. Jack had seen him from a distance when he"d moved in last month.
“You"re the young man who found poor brother Boruff"s body, aren"t you.”
Jack nodded,
his mouth suddenly dry. He didn"t like the idea of this strange man knowing things about him.
The man extended his hand. “How may we help?”
Jack thought he was offering to shake but then noticed he held a white business card between his index and middle fingers. Jack took it.
ERNST D REXLER II
Actuator
ASFO
He had no idea what an actuator did, and wasn"t about to ask.
“We found a guy who"s been lost in the Pines for three days. He"s really weak
and needs an ambulance.”
Mr. Drexler stared at Jack a moment, as if processing the information. “If we could just come in and use the phone to call nine-one-one—” “By all means.” But instead of stepping aside, he turned and spoke over his
shoulder. “Eggers, call the sheriff and tell them to send an ambulance.” He turned back to Jack. “Do you know that your father was extended the privilege of joining the Order, yet he turned us down? That does not happen very often.”
“He mentioned it.”
“Did he mention why?”
“Something about too many secrets.”
“"Too many"?” Mr. Drexler frowned. “What an entertaining concept. Just when
does one reach the point of „too many" secrets? Everyone has secrets. Even you.” He turned to Weezy. “Even th
is young lady.”
Weezy swallowed. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You"re the young lady who found that
strange artifact in the Barrens, aren"t you.”
With mention of the artifact, Weezy changed, losing her flustered look and switching to angry.
“The artifact you people stole.”
Swell, Jack thought. No way we"ll get in now.
Mr. Drexler"s eyebrows rose as he smiled. “Stole? And why would the Order want something you found buried in the dirt? I"m afraid I"ve never even read or heard a description of the object.
Would you care to describe it for me?”
“You know exactly what it looks like.”
“Do I? „Artifact" is such a vague term—it could be anything. But if you won"t describe it, can you perhaps tell me what it might be used for?”
Weezy frowned. “Used?”
“Yes. What did it do?”
“It didn"t do anything that we know of.”
“Then what possible use could it be to the Order? Why would we want to … steal it?”
Her voice rose. “Because it"s proof that there"s a Secret History of the World, something your order and other groups like it want to remain secret!”
As Mr. Drexler"s smile broadened while he stared at Weezy, Jack edged to the left for a peek through the doors. He saw fringed rugs on the floor—Persian carpets?—dark, indistinct paintings on the walls, a large fireplace with a lot of curios set on the mantel above it. The one in the center looked—
Jack felt his neck muscles bunch as he took a step closer for a better view.
Eggers reappeared then, frowning at Jack as he blocked the space.
But not before Jack spotted a black object similar in size to the pyramid he and Weezy had found—the one that disappeared. This thing seemed to have a pointed top.
Their pyramid?
He hid the thrill jolting through his nerves as Mr. Drexler turned to him.
“Your friend is a most entertaining young lady. I would love to stand here and discuss her Secret History of the World and other wild imaginings, but duty calls.” He lifted his gaze and inclined his head toward a place somewhere behind them. “And besides, your lost man is up and about.”
Jack turned and saw the man staggering along Quakerton Road toward the bridge. He heard a click and turned back to see the Lodge door had closed. It appeared Mr. Drexler was done with them. Perhaps they"d stopped being “entertaining.”
“No!” Weezy cried as she started banging on the door. Her features were tight and her eyes wild. “Open up! Let us in!”
He touched her arm. “That"s not going to help.”
For an instant she looked as if she was going to pound on him instead of the door, then her shoulders slumped and she nodded. He was afraid she was going to cry, but she took a breath and started down the walk.
“Let"s go.”
He"d never seen her like this. What was with her, anyway?
8
They caught up to the lost man at the edge of the swollen lake. “Where"re you going?”
Jack said.
“Thirsty.” He looked at them with glazed eyes, then pointed at Quaker Lake.
“Need a drink.”
“That"s probably not such a good idea,” Weezy said. She seemed back in control
again. “Might make you sick.”
“Come on.” Jack pointed to the bridge. “Let"s get you across. There"s an
ambulance on the way.”
A sheriff"s cruiser pulled up just as they reached the other side. Deputy Tim
Davis hopped out and helped the man to the car where he sat on the rear seat with his legs outside and his feet on the ground.
“The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.”
After handing him a bottle of water, with advice to drink slowly, Tim turned to
Jack. He"d dated Jack"s sister, Kate, in high school, so they knew each other pretty well.
“Where"d you find him?”
“He sort of found us.”
“That"s not answering the question.”
Jack glanced at Weezy and said, “Out by Old Man Foster"s.”
Tim didn"t look surprised. “That wouldn"t be the land that"s posted for „No
Trespassing," would it?”
“Good thing we just happened by, huh?” Jack added a grin.
Tim didn"t return the smile. He looked tense. “I suppose so. Don"t go anywhere.
I need to talk to you two.”
“About what?” Weezy said.
“About the woods.”
“Why us?”
“Because you spend so much time there, you should be made honorary pineys.” Ordinarily he might have smiled when he said something like that, but his
expression remained grim. Jack wondered what was going on.
As Tim took out his note pad and began asking the man questions, Jack started
pulling Weezy aside to tell her what he"d seen on the Lodge"s mantel. But then he
heard the first question and it puzzled him.
“You didn"t happen to see a little boy in there this morning?”
The man shook his head. “I didn"t see anyone until I came upon these two.” Tim looked at them. “How about it? Did you see a kid?”
Jack shook his head and saw Weezy doing the same. “No, but—” But Tim had turned back to the man. He said his name was Ted Collingswood, a
broker in the Prince ton Merrill Lynch office. He"d arrived in the Pines on Thursday, planning to spend a few days birding. He wasn"t due back till today, so nobody would have reported him missing yet. According to his story, Jack estimated he was now at
least fifteen miles from where he"d left his car.
By the time he started telling his tale of being chased up a tree by the “thing,”
about a dozen people had gathered. Jack shook his head, thinking how it didn"t take
much to draw a crowd in Johnson, New Jersey, the most boring town on Earth. “Sounds like the Jersey Devil,” someone said.
Jack looked but it wasn"t Eddie.
Tim said, “Sounds more like a bear.”
“Bear?” someone else said. “There ain"t no bears in the Pines.” “Yes, there are,” Tim said.
“We"ve got black bears. Not a lot, but we"ve got
some, and this man was unlucky enough to stumble across one in the dark. Let"s leave it at that, shall we? Let"s not start getting all Twilight Zone about this. Bears can climb, and they"re heavy enough to break branches a man"s weight won"t.”
A bear worked for Jack, maybe even explained the tracks around the pyramid. Everyone turned then at the sound of a siren as an ambulance roared up
Quakerton Road. They watched the EMTs load Mr. Collingswood into the back and roar
away.
And as it did, another sheriff"s department cruiser pulled up and a deputy got
out. Jack didn"t recognize him and couldn"t read his name-tag from here. After a
whispered conversation with Tim, the new deputy leaned back against his car with his arms folded across his chest.
Tim was reaching into a button-down breast pocket of his dark blue shirt as he
approached Jack and Weezy.
“We"ve got a serious situation here, and I"m hoping you can help.” Uh-oh.
“Sure,” Jack said. “What"s up?”
Tim pulled out a photo and handed it to them.
“Know who this is?”
Jack"s stomach clenched when he saw the photo of a smiling little boy with
shaggy blond hair.
“That"s Cody … Cody Bockman. What—?”
“He"s missing.”
“The little guy we saw this morning?” Weezy said.
“You saw him?” Tim said.
The other deputy straightened from the cruiser and approached as Jack told of
his encounter.
“Last I saw him, he was pedaling toward his house. What happened?” “According to the
father, the kid had just learned to ride his two-wheeler, and
was running it up and down their driveway this morning, going from the street to the garage in back. His dad went in to refill his coffee, and when he came back out, the kid was gone.”
“But where?” Weezy said.
“The dad ran up and down Jefferson and every other street in the neighborhood.
Not a sign of him.”
Jack drew a map in his head. Jefferson was his street. Its west end stopped at
the buffer woods along 206. The east end stopped at—
“The lake!”
Weezy"s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, no!”
Tim nodded, his expression even more grim. “That"s a big worry. The good news
is, we"ve searched the bank and haven"t found any sign of him or his bike. Still …” “There"s that circus too,” the other deputy said. “A bunch of trucks and trailers
and RVs arrived last night.”
“You don"t really think he ran away to join the circus?” Weezy said. Jack"s throat tightened as he remembered threatening to sell Cody to the circus. The deputy made a face. “Not likely, but some real shady types in that crew.” Jack said, “I kidded him about that and he seemed to think it was a cool idea.” “We"ll check it out,” Tim said. “But they"re setting up half a mile north on the highway. I don"t see a five-year-old who"s just learned to ride without his training wheels making his way anywhere near there.” He looked down at his pad where he"d
taken notes on the lost man. “That Collingswood guy … he shows up out of nowhere
just after Cody disappears. Could be coincidence, but I don"t like coincidences.” “I"m sure he"ll turn up,” Weezy said.
“Let"s hope so. We"ve been asking everyone we can find if they saw a little kid
riding a brand-new, bright red bike. Walt says he thinks he saw a kid riding a red bike into the Pines.”
“Thinks?” Weezy said. “Did the kid he saw have blond hair?”
“You know Walt. He says he wasn"t paying much attention, and even if he was, I
don"t know how reliable he"d be. He was in his usual state.”
Weezy"s expression became defensive.
“Even in his „usual state" he knows what"s going on around town.” Tim shrugged and looked around. “In all fairness, with this being the first dry
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