Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [32]
The last thing Jack had done before leaving school earlier was slip into his now favorite bathroom stall and unlatch the window again. He didn’t know if anyone was noticing his recurrent trips—he doubted it because different guys were in the boys’ room whenever he came through—but anyone who did might think he had colitis or something.
Oh, well. Small price to pay.
Again, that uneasy sensation that eyes were on him, but when he looked around he saw no sign of life. Shrugging, he turned back to the window.
He wore only jeans and a rugby shirt this time and found he slipped through with much greater ease. The nylon warm-up had been perhaps a tad too clever. He guessed you could overthink things. Best to always remember the KISS rule: Keep It Simple, Stupid.
Toliver’s new lock opened just as easily as the old one. A shim didn’t care what the combination was.
Now, decision time: How to set this up?
He could simply leave the can inside on the top shelf and hope that Toliver would open it and make a fool out of himself. But he’d be suspicious as all hell. He’d probably notice that the can was too light to be full of peanut brittle and didn’t rattle when he shook it. It would take a real dummy not to guess it held something other than candy, and Toliver was no dummy.
Another option was to take the snake and coil it behind the locker door so that it popped out as soon as Toliver opened it. But that was exactly what had happened with the spider. Yeah, it would spook Toliver that someone had invaded his locker again, but anyone watching would have a feeling of déjà vu or been-there-done-that.
Jack liked a third option best: Set up the snake for a delayed deployment. It would be tricky but he thought he could bring it off.
He got down to work …
2
On the way home, as usual, he passed a variety of roadkill and the Lonely Pine Motel. He’d noticed Miriam’s station wagon there on the way out, but now he noticed something else.
A man stood by the car, staring at the door to room three.
Jack slowed his bike and stopped, squinting through the dim blue light from the roadside neon sign. Something familiar about him …
And then he recognized Weird Walt.
Jack backed his bike deeper into the shadows. He didn’t want to be seen, and was curious what Walt was up to out here at two in the morning.
Had he come to try to cure the baby’s arm? Did he really think he could make it grow? But even if he did, why now? Why not in the light of day?
Maybe he didn’t want anyone else to know.
Walt took a step toward the door, then stopped. He seemed uncertain, and radiated something Jack couldn’t quite grasp. He took another step, then abruptly turned and started walking away—north along 206, toward Johnson.
Jack waited until Walt had gone at least a hundred yards before cutting across the highway and taking the back paths home.
While he waited he wondered about what he had just witnessed. Why had Walt walked a couple of miles to get here, only to turn around and go back? What had just happened? Or not happened? Or almost happened?
And then he realized what he had sensed in Walt as he’d stood outside that door: fear.
Walt had been afraid. But of what? Certainly not Miriam or her child. What, then?
3
Jack yawned as he stood with the group. The yawns had started a few minutes ago and now he couldn’t stop. So tired.
No mention of Easy Weezy on the inbound bus today. An encouraging sign, but that didn’t mean the story was dead.
First thing after leaving the bus, he’d dashed to the boys’ room to relock the window, then hurried back to the senior lockers. The area seemed more crowded than usual, and then Jack realized that some of the kids were hanging around near Toliver’s locker. So Jack hung too.
Just a face in the crowd.
When Toliver arrived he noticed the crowd as well. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he played to it.
“Come to see if my secret admirer’s left me another present?” he said with a grin.
This earned smiles from his audience.
“Sorry to disappoint