majorly disturbing.
“Yeah, but—” She braked and pointed. “Aw, no!”
Jack looked and saw two guys pushing around a third near the rickety one-lane bridge over Quaker Lake. The pushers were Teddy Bishop and a blond
guy Jack didn’t recognize. Teddy, with long greasy hair and a blubbery body, was sort of the town bul y. His father was a lawyer and that seemed to make
Teddy feel he could get away with anything.
The beard and olive-drab fatigue jacket on the guy getting pushed around identified him as the town’s only Vietnam vet, Walter Erskine—or, as he was
more commonly known, Weird Walt. It looked like Teddy and his friend were trying to grab the brown paper grocery bag Walt had clutched against his
chest.
Before Jack knew it, Weezy was pedaling toward the scene, yel ing, “Hey! Stop that!”
Jack wasn’t surprised. Though young enough to be his daughter, Weezy had a thing for Walt. If she met him on the street she’d walk with him;
sometimes they’d sit on one of the benches down by the lake and talk—about what, Jack had no idea.
No use trying to stop her, so he fol owed. Couldn’t let her face those two creeps alone. He watched her jump off her bike and quickly set the kickstand
—Walt or no Walt, she wasn’t going to let that cube fal . Then she ran over, stepped in front of Teddy, and pushed him back. Not that she had much effect.
Teddy was an ox. But Weezy was fearless.
“Leave him alone!”
“Yeah, lay off!” Walt said, raising a gloved hand. He
Walt had a hippieish look with a gray-streaked beard and long, dark hair. His voice sounded a little slurred. No surprise there. Jack didn’t know of
anyone who’d ever seen him completely sober.
Teddy laughed. “Look at this! Weird Weezy and Weird Walt together. How about that?”
Jack lay his bike on the grass and looked around. Last time Mom had taken him for a checkup he’d been five- five and one-hundred-two pounds. Teddy
had two years, two inches, and maybe fifty lardy pounds over him. He’d need an equalizer. He looked for a weapon, a rock, maybe, but found nothing.
Swel .
He approached the group empty-handed.
“What do you
“We just think he should share some of his hooch. We ain’t greedy. We don’t want it al , just a little. So get outta the way.”
Teddy’s friend’s hands moved toward Weezy, as if to shove her aside.
“Don’t touch her!” Jack shouted.
Teddy spun, looked surprised, then grinned. Jack saw now that he was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt.
“Wel , look who it is. What is it with you two—you find a dead body and suddenly you’re Guardians of the Universe?”
“Just let her take him home.”
Teddy, his expression menacing, took a step closer. “And if I don’t?”
Jack felt his heart racing, but with more anger than fear. And the anger was growing, quickly overtaking the fear, blotting it out.
“You lay one finger on her and I wil kil you.”
The cold way the words came out startled Jack. He sounded like he meant it. And at the moment, he did.
Teddy stopped and stared, then smiled. Jack wondered at that smile until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, pinning his arms at his sides.
“Gotcha, squirt!” said Teddy’s friend.
Jack had been so intent on Teddy and Weezy he’d forgotten the friend.
Teddy’s grin widened as he cocked a fist back to his ear. “Let’s see who’s gonna kil who.”
Jack lowered his head as he struggled wildly to get free. This was going to hurt. He heard Weezy scream, quickly fol owed by a cry of pain from Teddy,
and another from the guy holding him. Suddenly he was free. He leaped to the side, raising his fist, ready to swing, but stopped.
Teddy and his friend were cowering and rubbing their heads. Between them stood a heavyset old woman brandishing a silver-headed cane. She wore
