Ebon Moon

by McDonald, Dennis

  He looked up at the picture of Emma he had tacked to the corkboard as tears of defeat moistened his eyes.

  “Please, God, I don’t have the strength to continue,” he prayed aloud.

  The sound of closing truck doors came from outside his workshop. Jasper stood painfully to his feet and crossed to look out a shop window. Terry Newman and the Sid Granger kid stood outside and knocked against the one door.

  “Are you in there, Mr. Higgins?” Terry’s voice called out.

  Jasper swung the door open. “Yes.”

  “We want to help you on this werewolf hunt,” Terry announced, looking like he had been in a fistfight due to a swollen lip.

  “Thank you,” Jasper replied. Elation filled his heart, for he knew God had answered his prayer. “Then you believe me about the beast?”

  “Let’s just say we want to believe you,” Sid replied, looking around the shop. “What’s that smell? Have you been burning something?”

  “I’ve been smelting silver,” Jasper replied, pointing to the box of silverware. “Been all morning trying to make silver bullets.”

  “Having any luck?”

  Jasper held out his hand and showed his handiwork.

  “Holy shit.” Sid’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a real fucking silver bullet. You’re serious as hell about this.”

  “Thank God you two boys showed. I was about to give up.”

  “We’re here now, Mr. Higgins, and willing to help,” Terry said.

  Jasper pointed to the bullet reloader. “I’ve got six more to do. I know the process now and with all of us working together can make them much faster.”

  “This won’t be as boring as the metal shop class I took one semester,” Terry said with a chuckle.

  They went to work. Youthful energy had now been breathed into the project. Jasper discovered Sid Granger was very eager to help, even though he had a foul mouth while doing so. The work fascinated both young men. The shop became abuzz with activity as they melted the silver, forged bullet castings, and reloaded the shells. The acrid smell of molten metal hung in the air. In four hours, they had made the other six silver bullets and pressed them into the brass casings. Once completed, they stepped back and took a moment to admire their craftsmanship lined up in a row on the worktable.

  “Job well done,” Jasper remarked and clasped Terry on the shoulder. “I couldn’t do it without you boys.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Higgins,” Terry replied.

  “Is that a picture of your wife?” Sid nodded to the black-and-white of Emma tacked to the corkboard.

  “It is.” Jasper picked up the .38 pistol and began loading the chamber with the silver bullets.

  “She was hot,” Sid said.

  “Yes, she was.” Jasper clicked shut the chamber. He picked up the last bullet and tossed it to Terry. “You keep that one. It’s a souvenir of your hard work.”

  “Okay.” Terry placed the bullet in his flannel shirt pocket. “I feel like that deputy on television who kept one bullet in his shirt pocket.”

  “You mean Barney Fife?” Sid laughed.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “What’s next?” Sid turned to Jasper.

  “We’ve got our silver bullets,” Jasper replied. “Let’s go find our werewolf.”

  “Where do we start?” Terry asked.

  “The beast was last seen at Elmer Grosslin’s place. We’ll start there,” Jasper answered. “Besides, I promised Elmer I’d bring back his photos today.”

  “I’m stoked. Let’s do it.” Sid started walking toward the door. “Let’s get this fucking hunt on the road.”

  “So says the one who would be the first to crap his pants if we actually encounter a werewolf,” Terry commented with a chuckle.

  Jasper said in a somber voice, “I’ve already seen the creature. It’s a frightening sight, believe me. I wouldn’t blame anyone for being afraid. I don’t want to put you boys in danger. Are you sure your parents are going to let you go on this hunt with me? We could be out really late tonight. This is my hunt, not yours.”

  Sid shrugged. “All I have is my grandma. She lets me do what I want.”

  Terry looked at his feet and said, “My mother hasn’t been the same since my father ran out on us. She just sits in front of the TV watching stupid reality shows. I’m seventeen now and am pretty much on my own.”

  “It’s set then,” Jasper said, grabbing his coat and slipping it on. “We’ll take my truck.” He put the pistol in one pocket and patted the other. “I’ve got Elmer’s pictures right here.”

  Sid let out his best fake wolf howl. “Owwwwooo! A werewolf hunting we will go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “You look pretty, Mommy,” Megan said, standing at the open bathroom door.

  “Thanks, baby.” Jessica smiled at her daughter and returned to applying eyeliner in the mirror. For her bar waitress ensemble, she chose a tight black top with spaghetti straps to go with equally tight blue jeans. She was going for sexy without looking like a whore in the process. With her limited wardrobe at the time, this was as close as she could get.

  “Hello.” A voice came from the front room of the trailer. “Is there anyone here?”

  Jessica stuck her head out of the bathroom to see Nelda standing in the middle of the living room. “We’re both in here, Nel.”

  “Jess, I knocked but no one answered.” She walked down the hallway to the restroom door.

  “We didn’t hear you. I’m getting ready to go to work.”

  “Hi, Aunt Nel.” Megan ran forward and gave her a big hug.

  “Hi, sweet pea.” Nelda returned the embrace. “Are you ready to have fun tonight? I brought some stuff to make chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It doesn’t sound like I’m going to have any problem leaving Megan with you.” Jessica said with a smile.

  “No.” Nelda shook her head. “We have a lot of fun together.”

  “You don’t mind watching her in the trailer?”

  “Not a bit. You forget I lived here for twenty years. This feels like home to me. Sam wants to watch some college football game, so we girls will just stay here until you get home.”

  “I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

  “No problem.”

  Jessica adjusted her hair and asked, “Well, how do I look?”

  A smile crossed Nelda’s face. “Like I did thirty years ago. You’re going to knock ’em dead tonight.”

  “I hope so. I can use the tips. Thanks for letting me borrow the top.” Grabbing up her purse, Jessica walked into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder. Neither Nelda nor Megan was looking her way. Jessica quickly reached into the high cabinet door, removed the .357 pistol, and stuffed it in her purse before turning around.

  “She doesn’t have a bedtime tonight, Nel,” Jessica said. “Keep her up as late as she wants. That way she won’t be waking me up first thing in the morning and I can get some sleep.”

  “Did you hear that, baby?” Nelda rubbed Megan on the top of the head. “No bedtime.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come give your mommy a good-bye kiss.” Jessica knelt as Megan ran into her arms and planted a messy wet kiss on her lips. “Now you do what Aunt Nel says and be a good girl.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  “Bye.”

  Jessica left the trailer and stepped out into the brisk air of the approaching night. As she descended from the wood deck to the driver’s side of her Camaro, she checked her watch. It was just after six thirty, which meant she had just enough time to make it to Roxie’s. Once behind the steering wheel, she removed the pistol from her purse and placed it under the driver’s seat. Starting the car, she pulled out of the front yard and drove around the barn and back to the road.

  As she cruised through the center of Hope Springs she noticed the town seemed emptier than normal. Nelda had mentioned something about a big high school football game in Morris tonight, which could accou
nt for the lack of activity. One thing she learned since coming to Oklahoma was that people loved football here.

  At the one stoplight she turned on Highway 133 and headed toward Roxie’s. As often happened when Jessica was alone, a deep paranoia tugged at her insides. She constantly checked her rearview. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t define its source. Everything about the world around her seemed normal, but it was like looking at it through a fogged window. If she could just wipe away the fog, she would get a clearer vision of reality. It troubled her that she had gotten away from Blake too easily. If she had known it was that simple, she would have run a long time ago. Of course, Blake had other issues to deal with than just his wayward wife. When she left, he was about to go down for being a corrupt cop. He could be in jail instead of looking for her, but she doubted it. He knew the system and wouldn’t be incarcerated long.

  Then there was Dale Sutton. The sheriff seemed genuine, but her intuition said there was something hidden beneath the surface. He seemed like a walking cutout of a man, as if she could pull apart a layer of his skin only to find cardboard instead of flesh. Granted, some men were emotionally distant, but the sheriff seemed so to the point of hiding something. What was it? Other women? Probably. Her run-in with the skinny blonde in the Dollar Store this morning was evidence of that. Whatever the case, she needed to tell him to forget about her. Emotional entanglements she didn’t need at the moment. Megan was her focus now. But could she do it? If he made strong advances, could she turn him away? She seriously doubted it.

  She topped the hill overlooking the farm with all the handmade signs. The setting sun caused long shadows from the makeshift billboards to stretch across the highway. The place intrigued her, and Jessica entertained the idea of stopping to read the jumbled messages but decided not to be late for work. She did notice one thing out of the ordinary. In earlier drive-bys, she saw no activity whatsoever and thought the overgrown farm abandoned. This time an old red Ford truck pulled out of the property and onto the highway a hundred yards ahead of her. In the setting sunlight, she made out the heads of three passengers through the back glass. She followed the truck until the parking lot entrance of Roxie’s. The truck continued on as she made the turn.

  The lot wasn’t as full as the night before, just a few pickup trucks and a couple of motorcycles—surprising since it was a Friday night, but she suspected the cause might be the football game. She parked the Camaro, checked her look one last time in the mirror, and then locked the car before crossing the gravel to reach the front door. In case she needed to refresh her makeup during the night, she brought her purse.

  “Hey, Jess, glad to see you,” Roxie called out from behind the bar when she entered. At her side, Collin counted out bills from a bank bag before placing them in the register. He glanced up with emotionless dark eyes and grunted something like a hello.

  “I hope I’m not late.” Jessica checked the rest of the place. A group of four occupied one table in the middle of the floor while a couple of bikers, members of a local riding organization by the cut of their leather, sat drinking beer at the bar. Beyond that, the roadhouse was empty. Low music wafted out from the jukebox in the corner.

  “The real craziness hasn’t started yet.” Roxie let out a low whistle. “Chick, you look hot. I’m jealous now. I know who’s going to make all the cash tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  Motioning for her to come behind the bar, Roxie said, “Back here, girl. Let’s get you acquainted to the place and how we do things.”

  Jessica joined her side. “Where do I put my purse?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Roxie stepped through the open door leading to a back room. Jessica followed to discover the room bigger than she thought. To her right was the walk-in cooler used to store cold beer; to her left stood a series of three metal school lockers. A broken exit sign hung above the back door leading to the outside. The most intriguing feature of the room was a sleeping cot in one corner. Taped to the wall above the bed were various hand-drawn pieces of art. Most showed scenes of forested mountains and a full moon shining in the sky, all drawn by an artist of considerable talent.

  “Here’s your locker,” Roxie said. “You can store your things in there.”

  Jessica put her purse away. “Who sleeps back here?”

  “Collin,” Roxie replied. “We had a break-in a few weeks ago, so he sleeps here when the bar’s closed.”

  “And who does the drawings? They’re incredible.”

  “Those are Collin’s, too. He’s always been able to draw.”

  Jessica leaned closer, examining one of the pictures. It showed a forest of tall trees with high mountains in the background. “They don’t look like pictures of Oklahoma.”

  “They’re not. Those are scenes from home.”

  “Colorado?” Jessica asked.

  Roxie shook her head. “Canada.”

  “You and your brother are from Canada?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I better show you the ropes and get you trained before the crowd gets here.” Roxie smiled. “There’s a full moon tonight so who knows what can happen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Uncle Johnny sat in his truck waiting for Jasper Higgins’s arrival. From his vantage point behind the oil tank on the abandoned lease site, he had a good view of Elmer Grosslin’s farm. Earlier in the morning, he had hidden Elmer’s decaying body by carrying the rotting headless corpse down to the bank of a creek and camouflaging it under broken limbs. Once done, he returned to his truck for his long vigil watching for Jasper’s F-150. The sheriff had provided him information on the make and tag number.

  The afternoon stretched into dusk, and hunger gnawed at his insides. He wanted to devour the old man’s aged flesh, to rip sinew with teeth and taste hot blood flowing down his throat. After hours passed with no sign of Jasper, he was about to give up his watch and return to Roxie’s.

  The sky darkened and the first stars pierced the twilight when a dust trail signaled the approach of a vehicle on the dirt road. Minutes later, a Ford truck rounded the bend before the Grosslin farm. Removing a pair of binoculars from the dash, Uncle Johnny focused the lens on the cab to see who was driving. Jasper Higgins sat behind the wheel with two teenage boys riding in the front seat. The sheriff hadn’t said anything about others accompanying the old man. Who were they? He put down his binoculars in disgust. He wanted desperately to feed, but now things had changed. Two teenage boys who suddenly disappeared would be hard to hide from the locals.

  Disappointed, he looked out through the windshield. The full moon appeared over the horizon in a darkening sky. Magnified in size, the orb showed blood red due to the setting sun. The sight of it wracked his body with the need to release the beast.

  Feed me! The beast raged inside his mind. The sheriff promised you this kill. Now you can eat all three!

  No! he screamed internally back at the monster. Too risky. Best to retreat and talk to the rest of the Pack.

  Feed me now! Let’s feast upon the flesh of the young and the old.

  No!

  He fought against the monster inside, but the magnificent rising full moon proved too strong an influence. Hair began growing on the back of his hands.

  “Goddammit!” he cried out in a voice already changing into an animal growl.

  Uncle Johnny threw himself out of the truck cab and landed on the gravel of the lease road. He crouched down on all fours as the fire of transformation swept through his body and distorted his physical form. His clothes ripped from his body. In less than a minute, he became the beast. Now covered in gray fur, he stood on two canine legs. His enhanced senses picked up voices and movement at the Grosslin farm across the country road. With animal eyes, he took in the beauty of the full moon and, though he tried to fight it, the beast was in control now.

  The monster threw back its head and released a long howl.

  * * * *

  “This
place is giving me a serious case of the creeps,” Terry said as he shut the door of the truck and took in the view of Crazy Elmer’s dilapidated house and barn. The yard was a cornucopia of broken refrigerators, old tires, and useless junk cars rusting among tall weeds. Weathered paint peeled in flakes like dried skin from the outside walls of the house. In the fading orange light of dusk, the property took on an eerie and haunted appearance.

  “You could film fucking Texas Chainsaw Massacre here,” Sid remarked as he took in the same view.

  Jasper shut the driver’s door and yelled, “Elmer! It’s Jasper Higgins. I brought your photos back! I got them all developed. A couple of friends came with me.”

  No reply.

  “I don’t think anyone’s home,” Terry said.

  “Where else would he be? He doesn’t have a vehicle and his bum leg won’t let him walk very far.” Mr. Higgins looked toward the barn. “He’s here somewhere.”

  Sid peered closer at the house. “The front door is open.”

  “Then he’s home,” Jasper remarked. He repeated his call to Elmer.

  Again, no answer.

  Sid leaned into Terry and whispered, “When I was a kid, I heard stories about Crazy Elmer, which scared the shit out of me. He would run around naked grunting like a pig. On Halloween night, if he caught any kids on his property, he would cut their dicks off with a knife.”

  “I know,” Terry replied. “I heard the same stories.”

  “He’s just a poor decrepit old hermit,” Jasper commented. “He never harmed anyone.”

  “Well, it doesn’t look like he’s home,” Terry replied.

  “Let’s move up to the porch.”

  They crossed the distance to the front of the house and stood together on the creaky porch boards. Terry peered into the dim interior. The front room was a cluttered mess of old furniture and peeling wallpaper. Magazines and newspapers placed in well-ordered stacks created a maze about the room for anyone walking in the house. Broken windows with sheets of plywood nailed over them allowed very little light in to illuminate the room.