Ebon Moon

by McDonald, Dennis

  Blake stepped back from the window and stared at the back of his hands. Thick hair pushed through the pores of his skin. He raised his right hand and watched in awe as black nails extended below his own fingernails. A wave of burning pain caused him to fall on the carpet at the foot of the bed. Curled into a fetal position, he screamed in agony and kicked about as the femur bones of his legs elongated in length. Multiplying at an incredible rate, coarse hair covered his naked flesh in a coat of dark fur. His spinal column popped and snapped as the painful transformation continued. He tried to scream out but his tongue thickened as canine teeth descended from an elongating jawline forming the face of the wolf. Within a minute, the shape-shifting was complete and he stood looming over the bed on new canine legs. Saliva dripped from his maw in streams.

  He was still Blake, but now joined with a beast.

  Next door the blaring Mexican music hurt his ears. Animal rage boiled at the sound.

  Kill!

  His eight-feet-tall form charged the cheap wall of the motel. Black claws ripped a hole through the wood and Sheetrock as he broke through in a cloud of plaster dust. A Hispanic man, dressed in blue jeans and a white tank top, lay on the bed with a boom box blasting from a nightstand. He gawked in speechless terror at the sudden monster in his room. Blake smelled his fear and the bottle of tequila by his side. Panic-driven, the Mexican tried to run for the door, but Blake slapped him back with his claws ripping deep bloody gouges in the man’s chest. He fell on the bed screaming as the beast pounced upon him. Trying to block the attack, the man lifted his arm, but Blake severed it below the elbow with one bite. Warm blood rushed down his throat in a hot torrent. The taste of it spurred him on and he continued his attack, mauling and clawing the hapless victim. Blood splattered the walls as he ripped out chunks of meat and organs. The note of a dozen trumpets blasting out of the boom box drowned out the man’s dying screams.

  Blake and the beast fed then. Using his canine maw, he pulled up sinewy meat and swallowed it down. He reduced his victim to a mass of severed limbs and mutilated flesh upon the bed mattress. Once the kill was complete, he tore the boom box from the wall, raised his bloody snout toward the ceiling, and emitted a loud howl.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  It was late afternoon when Terry Newman pulled up in the old F-150 in front of Sid’s house. After working in Mr. Higgins’s workshop, he wanted to show his friend the result. Sid emerged from the house and walked down the drive to meet him with his hands in the pockets of his ICP hoodie.

  “Oh, man, you got to see the stuff I’ve brought with me,” Terry stated as he slammed the truck door.

  “Didn’t you get any sleep, dude?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m too excited.” Terry threw aside a tarp in the truck bed and lifted out his Buckshot crossbow. “I’m going to kill me a werewolf tonight.”

  “With a toy crossbow? Not fucking likely.”

  “This is not a toy. It’ll take down a deer, so it will do the same for a werewolf.”

  “You tell it that when it’s chomping on your ass.”

  “I got something else.” Terry reached back into the truck bed and removed the quiver of flanged arrows. He pulled one and handed it to Sid. “Silver-tipped arrows.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Sid replied.

  “I worked all afternoon dipping them into molten silver and grinding the points sharp again.”

  Sid studied the arrowheads. “Holy shit, you’re as crazy as Mr. Higgins.”

  “I only got four arrows, though.” He threw off more of the tarp. “I found this in Mr. Higgins’s work shed.”

  Sid peered at the jangle of collapsible steel pipes. “What the hell is it?”

  “A deer hunter’s tree stand. You erect this thing up against a tree and it gives you an elevated place to spot deer. I figure you can get up there and watch for the werewolf and alert me when you spot it.” He picked up the pair of walkie-talkies and handed one to Sid. “That’s what this is for. You radio me when you see the monster.”

  “You got this all figured out.”

  “Sure do.”

  “What’s the range of the radio?”

  “Five miles.”

  “I’ve been busy, too. While you’re acting like fucking William Tell with your little crossbow, I’m going to shoot the werewolf with this, if he shows up.” Sid reached into the pocket of his hoodie and removed a Sony digital minicam. “My grandma bought it for me and it’s got night vision and everything. I’m going to capture a werewolf on video this time. We can sell the footage to 60 Minutes or the Discovery Channel. How fucking awesome is that?”

  “Coolness,” Terry replied.

  Sid chuckled. “Plus, I want to record you asking that Jessica girl out and falling on your ass.”

  “Oh, man, I’ve been thinking … you know … Jessica is a lot older.”

  “I knew you were going to pussy out of it.”

  “No, dude, I’m going to ask her out.” Terry opened the door to the truck. “Hop in and let’s get going. The sun’s setting and the moon will be up soon.”

  * * * *

  Jessica received a shock when she and Megan exited the front door of the trailer to leave for Roxie’s. Terry Newman and Sid Granger stood in the front yard beside the Camaro. Normally she would have been suspicious finding teenage boys standing beside her car, but not these two. After living within the shadow of Blake, she didn’t fear two geeky teenagers. Besides, she had the .357 in her purse.

  “Hi,” said Terry, who shyly looked down at his shoes. Sid stood quietly off to the side.

  “Hello,” she replied.

  Terry slipped his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “We were looking for Sam. Do you know where he is? We knocked but got no answer at the farmhouse.”

  “His mother had a medical emergency, so he and Nelda had to leave.” Jessica helped Megan down the three steps of the wooden deck. “I don’t know when he’ll be home.”

  “Did he say something about us coming back tonight?” Terry asked.

  “He told me you two were going to hunt deer.”

  “You’re going to kill a deer?” Megan’s eyes went wide. “Like Bambi?”

  “Not like Bambi, little girl.” Terry laughed and added, “We’ll probably end up going home empty-handed.”

  “You guys ever hunt deer before?” Jessica asked, glancing toward Sid standing a few feet away. He smiled back at her.

  “Oh yeah, lots of times,” Terry answered.

  “Well, I’m off to work, and I’ll be back late.” She unlocked and opened the Camaro passenger door. Megan hopped up into the seat, and Jessica buckled her in.

  Terry cleared his throat. “By the way, you look real pretty tonight, Jessica.”

  She straightened and shut Megan’s door. “Thank you, but call me Jess.”

  “Jess,” Terry repeated. He stepped a little closer and looked again at his shoes. “I was just wondering … Jess … if you would like to … you know … go out and do something sometime. Like go get a chili dog … or something,” he stammered and added, “I got a truck now.”

  Jessica crossed in front of the Camaro. “You’re asking me out on a date?”

  “Not like a real date … but sort of like one.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “I’m ten years older than you.”

  “I know, but Natalie Portman was older than Anakin Skywalker in Star Wars and they fell in love.”

  Jessica tried to keep from laughing. The boy was so shy and sweet, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Don’t you have any girls your own age to ask out?”

  “They’re too immature. I want a girl who can match my maturity.”

  “I see,” Jessica replied, unlocking the driver door. She raised her hand to show her wedding ring. “Sorry, but I’m already married. I’m sure if you ask a girl a little closer to your age, she would say yes.”

  Terry bobbed his head. “Okay.”

  “Well,
I got to get to work now. Good luck, guys, with your hunt.”

  “Thanks, Jess.”

  “Yeah,” Sid piped in.

  Sliding into the Camaro, she started the engine. She held back her laughter until she pulled out of the farm and onto the road to Hope Springs.

  “Mommy, you’re laughing again,” Megan observed.

  “I know, baby,” she replied with a chuckle. Would her bad luck with men ever end? Either they were violently psychotic, emotionally distant, or in the case of Terry Newman, way too young. “Wow, Mommy, look at the moon,” Megan announced, breaking her thoughts.

  Jessica looked ahead in the night sky. A magnificent golden full moon hovered over the horizon.

  “It’s beautiful, baby,” she said.

  “It’s big.”

  “Tomorrow night there’s an eclipse. Do you know what that is, sweetie?”

  Megan shook her head no.

  “Well, that’s where the moon gets covered in shadow.” Jessica turned onto the highway leading to Hope Springs.

  “In shadow?” Megan asked, perplexed. “What does that mean, Mommy?”

  “Tomorrow night the moon will go dark.”

  * * * *

  “Natalie Portman was much older than Anakin Skywalker and they fell in love.” Sid broke into laughter so hard he doubled over. “You’re such a dumbass.”

  “Screw you,” Terry replied with his cheeks burning red with embarrassment. Why did I act like a dork in front of Jess?

  Sid showed him the Sony minicam. “I got every bit on tape, and it so going on YouTube.”

  “You’re a prick, Sid.” Terry turned and started walking back to his truck. “Let’s get the hunting gear,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Wiping the tears out of his eyes, Sid followed. “That was some funny shit.”

  Once they had the gear loaded out of the truck, they carried the collapsible deer stand across the freshly plowed field to the line of trees bordering the south side of the Olson farm. The sun had set and the first stars appeared in the darkening sky. Hovering over the horizon, the moon shone like a giant gold ball.

  “Would you look at that moon?” Terry said. “What werewolf wouldn’t want to come out on a full moon like that?”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. I hate to think we hauled this fucking deer stand all the way out here for nothing.”

  They entered the line of trees at the spot where Sam had found the baseball bat and binoculars earlier in the morning. With the sun down, the air grew colder and the trees loomed over them, dark and foreboding. Terry switched on a flashlight to show the way and spotted the binoculars laying in the leaves.

  “Hey, look what’s still here,” Terry said, shining the beam on the field glasses. “Sid, take those so you can use them to spot the werewolf for me.”

  Sid picked the binoculars up and stuffed them in the pocket of his hoodie. “Fucking A.”

  “This is the place where all the action has been the last few nights.” Terry pointed to a nearby tree. “Let’s set the stand up there.”

  Over the next few minutes, they erected the steel deer stand against the tree trunk and secured it in place. With a set of climbing rungs in the front, the stand provided a platform for a hunter to sit fifteen feet above the ground.

  “Okay, Sid, get your ass up there,” Terry said.

  “Where are you going to be at?” Sid looked around the clearing in the trees.

  “About twenty-five yards over there hiding in the brush by the creek bank,” Terry said while unfolding his camouflage poncho and slipping it on.

  “I’m going to feel like a piece of raw meat up there,” Sid replied, grabbing hold of the rungs.

  “I won’t be far.” Terry handed him the walkie-talkie. “Radio me if you see something.”

  “You fucking know it.”

  Sid climbed up to the platform. At the top, he sat and looked down at Terry. “Just tell me one fucking thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Tell me this isn’t the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

  “Okay, it’s not.” Terry brought up his crossbow and pulled back the bowstring, locking it in place. Next, he removed one of the silver-tipped arrows from the quiver and loaded the weapon. He turned and started across the clearing toward the creek bed.

  “Yes, it is,” Sid called after him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Stepping out of the dollar store in Hope Springs, Debbie Miller spit out her gum and climbed into the waiting black pickup. Steve Kiegler, the latest hopeful who wanted to get in her pants, smiled as she climbed in. Slamming the door behind her, she grabbed a pack of Marlboros off the dash.

  “I’ve wanted to get a smoke all goddamn day,” she commented, putting a cigarette between her lips.

  Steve reached over with his Bic lighter and lit the end. “What now?” he asked.

  “Let’s go see Brody,” she replied after taking a long drag.

  “Is he out of the hospital?”

  “We’re going to go get him out.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke. “He’s over at County Regional in Stillwater.”

  “I thought we were partying at the lake tonight. You promised me, Deb. I got the tent, sleeping blankets, and beer packed in the back. Just me and you tonight.”

  She reached over and put a hand on the thigh of his blue jeans. “A little detour first. Then you can have me all to yourself.”

  He threw up his hands. “All right.”

  As the truck pulled away from the curb, Debbie puffed on the Marlboro pondering what she wanted to do next. Sheriff Sutton had stopped returning her calls, and she knew it was because of Jessica. It was time to teach the bitch a lesson.

  Brody needed in on this. Someone had nearly brained the guy when he followed Jessica out of Roxie’s. She had no doubt the person who clubbed Brody was a friend of hers. The stuck-up slut from out of town needed to learn you don’t come into Hope Springs, screw with her man, and beat up her friends. Payback’s a bitch, and Debbie knew she was the right bitch for the job.

  * * * *

  Jessica walked Megan through the front door of Roxie’s. The place was nearly deserted. One couple occupied table six, and two old farmers sat at the bar talking to Roxie.

  “Hi, Jess.” She looked up and smiled. She reached around and turned on the light in the back room. “Bring your daughter and come on back.”

  Jessica continued around the bar, guiding Megan into the room. Once inside, she helped her daughter up on the sleeping cot.

  “There you go, sweetie,” Jessica said, straightening up. “Now you have to stay back here, baby. You can’t go running around.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Megan looked about the room and spotted Collin’s sketches taped to the wall. “Ooooh, pretty pictures.”

  “Roxie’s brother, Collin, drew those.”

  “Would she like a pop to drink?” Roxie asked from the door.

  “A Sprite would be fine,” Jessica answered, opening a locker. She put her purse with the .357 magnum inside. Because of Brody’s assault the night before, she felt safer with the weapon near. Closing the locker door, she smiled at Megan.

  “You’ll be all right while Mommy works?”

  Megan swung her legs over the cot edge and nodded.

  Roxie came into the room popping open a can of cold Sprite. “There you go, baby.”

  Megan took it and said, “Thank you. Your hair is pretty.”

  Roxie laughed. “So is yours, sweetheart.”

  “I’m ready to start,” Jessica stated to Roxie. “Ten dollars an hour was our agreement, right?”

  “That’s right,” Roxie replied, adding, “I know you’re worried about bringing your daughter, Jess. I tell you what, I’ll work the tables and you run things behind the bar. That way you’re close and can keep an eye on her.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced toward Megan sipping a Sprite. “That will be fine.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you how to run the register.”
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  She followed Roxie out into the serving space behind the bar. She didn’t see her brother anywhere.

  “Where’s Collin?”

  “He’s gone into Morris to pick up some beer. He’ll be back before long. Things are slow because of the OU–Texas football game. Once the game is over, the place is going to fill pretty quickly. Another full moon tonight, so expect anything.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I heard you had a problem with Brody Carlson last night. After you left, someone nearly beat his head in. I had the sheriff, ambulance, everyone out here. I’m not going to let anything happen tonight. If Debbie Miller and her white trash posse show up, I’ll have Collin run them off.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You better take this,” Roxie stated, handing over her bottle opener on a string. “You’re going to need it.”

  Roxie was right. Within an hour, customers crowded the honky-tonk, and it soon became a noisy smoke-filled place. Jessica took beer orders and put money in the register as the bills steadily increased in her tip jar. Even as busy as it was, she kept an eye on Megan sitting on the sleeping cot in the back room. At the slightest break in the chaos, she went into the room to talk to her.

  In time, Collin rolled in a stack of beer cases on a two-wheeler. He stacked the boxes in the cooler while Megan watched with curious interest. He didn’t say anything to her or Megan in the process.

  At around eight, Pearl showed up. She walked into the back room to put her purse in a locker. After a minute, she came back out.

  “Jess, is that your daughter?” she asked with a smile above the noise.

  “Yes,” Jessica answered while opening a line of cold beer bottles with her church key. “Megan’s her name.”

  “She’s an absolute doll,” Pearl replied, getting a bottle of cold water out of the cooler behind the bar. “She’s got her mom’s eyes.”