106. Tick of the Clock

I get my first FedEx package at the cabin the Wednesday before Memorial Day. This actually excites me because I think it’s from my father. It’s a regular-sized box, not too heavy. The cabin is empty, since Mom is working her last few days at the tavern.

I open the package and pull out something that at first looks like a black blanket. Then I examine it and see that it’s no blanket.

It’s a robe.

A piece of cloth falls to the ground. It’s a hood with openings for eyes.

Whoever sent this might as well have sent me a pumpkin with a knife stuck in it and the word You scrawled over its top.

I look back at the box to see who it was from, but there’s just an address I don’t recognize. Then I see a note tucked away inside the box.

Suddenly I can feel my heart pounding away.

Chris:

Show up at the new building for New Beginnings Church at 8:30 p.m. this Monday.

Take Heartland Trail past the old church, and you’ll see where it used to dead-end. There’s a newly built road that will take you to the church.

Bring this robe with you. I’ll be there to meet you.

Further instructions will come when I see you.

Don’t tell anybody. Don’t bring anybody. Don’t play any games.

Just do as I say, and nobody you love will get hurt.

JM

I haven’t been to New Beginnings Church for a while, but it’s still surprising to hear about the new road. I think of the last time I was there, the time Poe and I hiked through the woods. The church with the gravestone devoted to its founder, Solitaire, front and center. The one with the strange French saying.

Maybe Marsh will tell you what it means.

I pick up the robe again and then throw it to the ground.

All this time and all these secrets and all this buildup just to get back to the place I ended up stumbling across. Some ceremony with a bunch of crazy people in robes.

I recall the people in the robes when Jocelyn died. They were wearing red robes. Why do I get a black one? Were they running low on my color and size?

What if you’re the sacrifice?

That’s a nice thought. But I doubt it.

I read the note again.

Don’t tell anybody. Don’t bring anybody. Don’t play any games.

If the old Chris had been told this, he wouldn’t have listened. He would have nodded and said fine and then proceeded to tell someone and bring someone and definitely play some games.

I might be totally different from the guy who ran and found Jocelyn dead, but I’m still Chris Buckley.

Seeing this robe and thinking that they actually expect me to wear it … it really does something to me.

It angers me.

I put it back in the box and hide it under my bed, then I get on my bike and head out.

To find someone I trust.

It isn’t Kelsey I’ve come to see.

Nope, there’s no way I’m telling her what’s about to happen. Kelsey is leaving on Friday to go to Columbia, South Carolina, for the weekend, and I’m delighted.

No, the first person I go to see is one of the first people I got to know at Harrington High.

He hands me a tray that holds a hot dog, fries, and a drink.

“That’s six thirty,” Newt says.

I remember Gus swatting him like a bug and how outraged that made me feel.

Even if that incident had not happened, I know I would have had run-ins with Gus. But who knows if I ever would have gotten to know Newt.

Maybe he would have been one of those people giving me messages without my knowing about it.

I hand Newt money. He sorts the bills and then sees the folded piece of paper in the middle of them. Like a 00-agent or a member of a Mission Impossible team, Newt simply puts all the bills in the register while casually placing the note aside. I make small talk but deliberately act like someone is watching me.

I eat the hot dog and fries and then leave.

Two hours later, Newt shows up in the place I marked on the note. I figured he would be working through lunch, so it’s two thirty when we meet. I chose the slope of seats facing the football field at Harrington High. It’s empty of course, but the gates are always open to go practice on the track or field. From here it’s easy to see if anybody is around watching you. It’s a random place that probably isn’t monitored, especially for secret covert meetings like this.

Our conversation is brief. I tell Newt everything he needs to know and then I ask him if he can help me.

I have a plan, but I’m still not totally sure about it.

The plan or really anything, to be honest.

“Yeah, sure.”

I nod and thank him.

I scan the stairs descending to the stadium below. For a moment, it reminds me of a scene in one of my favorite television programs, one that Newt loves as well.

“See you in another life, brotha,” I say in a horrible attempt at a Scottish accent.

Newt instantly gets it and laughs. “I sure hope not.”

It’s nice to see the serious-looking guy ease up a bit.

When I leave Newt, I have two more people to contact.

I meet up with Brick at a graduation party where the smell of pot is thick and almost makes it difficult to breathe.

I ask him, and he nods and says yes.

I ask if he’ll remember me asking, and he says yes.

I’m not really sure I believe him, but it’s enough.

If he shows up, he shows up.

The last person is someone I simply write.

Dear Mr. Meiners:

If you don’t see me the day after Memorial Day, then go check out my former locker at Harrington. Everything I know about what is happening is written down and waiting in an envelope.

Give it to someone who can help.

If there is anyone who can help.

Chris

The notes would never make a set of books but they might at least provide some answers.

I just hope Mr. Meiners won’t need them.

I hope I’ll have all the answers and that I’ll still be carrying them. Alive and ready to leave this place.

But I don’t know.

I’m getting the feeling that I’m really on my own here.