Moondeath

by Rick Hautala

“And—” Before she could continue, the tea kettle whistled shrilly. Bob jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

  Lisa looked at him over her shoulder and said, “Just milk in mi—”

  “I know, I know,” Bob said as he poured the water. He fixed both coffees and then came back into the living room. He placed the cups carefully on the hearth. While they drank their coffee, both of them avoided the topic Bob had brought up earlier. Bob wanted to talk some more about Lisa leaving her husband, but he respected her wishes not to discuss it. Lisa just couldn’t deal with the idea, not yet, anyway, she told herself.

  When the coffee was gone, Lisa shifted and stood up. They walked out the entryway, and Bob got Lisa’s raincoat out of the closet.

  “Hey,” he said, looking outside, “it stopped raining.”

  He helped Lisa on with her coat and, as she was buttoning the front, he held her shoulders. He pulled her close to him.

  “Thanks for the meal,” she said, pulling away slightly. “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her, but she raised her hand and covered her mouth. “Please, Bob. Not now. I’m confused and that’d only confuse me more,” she said, looking at him earnestly.

  Bob nodded and reached to open the door for her. “Thanks for coming over,” he said, “and for the conversation.”

  Lisa took a step outside, turned, and said, “Hey, it was nothing. It beats reading Greek drama any day.”

  .V.

  “Hey, Julie! For chrissakes, open up!” a voice slurred, and its entreaty was punctuated by a loud bang on the door.

  Crouching behind the large oak tree in her front yard, Julie watched as Jeff Carter, propped against the door jamb at a sharp angle, continued his hammering. His hulking form was illuminated and then plunged into darkness as the clouds of the passing storm raced by.

  “Hey!” he shouted, and Julie heard a muffled echo from across the lake.

  “It’s a damn good thing I don’t have any neighbors,” she said, stepping forward. “They’d be calling up Granger for sure.” Her left hand rose slowly and dropped the gnarled root she was holding in her coat pocket. It bulged conspicuously, but she figured Jeff was too drunk to notice anything.

  “Hey, babe, ain’t yah gonna let me in?” he asked, childlike.

  She stepped close, the smell of liquor on his breath blasted into her face. She cringed back, but Jeff reached out and grabbed her arm. His fingers dug in and started to hurt her, even through her coat.

  “What you been doin’ out on a night like this?” he said, wobbling, and then leaned his weight onto her. He ended his question with a bubbly belch.

  “Just, uh, out for a walk. After the rain, everything’s so clean and fresh.” She patted the bulge of root in her pocket.

  “Well, let’s get inside,” he said, patting a crinkling brown bag as he held it out to her. “I’ve got a bottle, the night’s young, ’n’ we got nothin’ but time.”

  Julie broke into a short burst of laughter.

  “’Sides, I need to have my ashes hauled,” Jeff said as he turned, wavering, and opened the front door. His shoulder caught on the door and almost spun him back around, but he caught his stride and barreled his way into Julie’s kitchen. Dragging a chair from the table, he sat down with a grunt and slammed the brown bag onto the Formica top. Julie, still standing in the doorway, was surprised the bottle inside the bag did not break. She eased the door closed behind her, shutting out the chill night air, and slowly walked over to the kitchen counter.

  “Get yourself a glass and have a drink, honey,” Jeff said, unscrewing the top off the Seagram’s Seven and tilting his head back to swallow a mouthful.

  Julie huffed, glanced at the clock on the stove, and then said softly and evenly, “Hey, you know, it’s past midnight. Don’t you think you ought to go home?”

  Jeff stared at her with a semiconscious squint. He wiped the saliva that was running down his chin onto the cuff of his jacket and then belched. “Now com’on, babe, have a drink with me. ’S not good to drink alone.”

  Keeping her eyes fixed on Jeff, Julie edged close to the sink and, reaching into her pocket, withdrew the root and dropped it into the sink. She reached in again and took out a sprig of grayish-green leaves, which she dropped onto the root. Jeff obviously didn’t see her do this. He sat wavering, holding the bottle out to her.

  “Seriously, Jeff. I’ve got to get some sleep.” She feigned a wide yawn and scratched her head with her dirt-encrusted fingers.

  Jeff placed the bottle on the table and rose to his feet. He dropped his jacket onto the back of the chair and began to unbutton his shirt. “You’ll sleep a lot better after a little of what I’ve got saved for you,” he said as he flipped open his belt and lowered his pants to his ankles. Julie felt revolted. He shook his feet free of his pants and then lunged at her.

  “Hot stuff, honey,” he mumbled with a slur. His hands reached out and grabbed her on the elbow before she could pull away. With his other hand he reached up and grabbed her breast, massaging it roughly as he pressed his lips to her mouth. The sticky sweetness of his breath made Julie want to gag. His fumbling finger reached inside her coat and, when he found he couldn’t unbutton her blouse, he gave it a quick pull and tore the material.

  “You bastard,” Julie screamed, and her hand shot out, slapping his face with a rifle-like report.

  “Keep your goddamn hands to yourself!” she shouted, shaking herself loose and taking a step back away from Jeff.

  Off-balance for a moment, Jeff fell forward and caught the edge of the counter. He stood there for a moment with his head hanging over the sink. He still didn’t see or recognize what was there in the sink. Shaking his head, as though to dispel a fog, he glared over at Julie. His red-rimmed eyes were swollen and unable to focus.

  “What’s the matter? You on the rag or somethin’?”

  Julie shook her head haughtily.

  “One drink’s all I ask.” He wheeled around and scooped the bottle from the table with an accuracy that surprised Julie. “One drink and then we can fuck our brains out.”

  He leaned back and took a long slug of whisky. He almost lost his balance and fell over backwards.

  “You can fuck your brains out,” Julie said, pulling the torn material of her blouse around her for protection. “I don’t plan on fucking my brains out.”

  “Christ, woman, you sound like you need a good screwin’, if you ask me.” Jeff tilted back for another swallow and then walked slowly toward the bedroom door. Once he was framed by the darkness of the bedroom, Jeff turned and grabbed the elastic band of his underwear. He started to roll his underwear down slowly.

  “I’ve been savin’ this for you, honey,” he slurred, once he had exposed himself. Julie looked at him with disgust. “Now come on. Get your ass in here!” With that, he walked into the bedroom.

  Julie waited in the kitchen, listening as Jeff fumbled about in the dark, pulling back the sheets. She heard a long, low groan as he eased his body onto the bed, and then, seconds later, the heavy sound of snoring filled Julie’s small house. She knew he’d be asleep for a few hours at least, as long as he could keep his drinks down.

  After listening to his snoring for a while, Julie eased her coat off. Her torn blouse hung loosely down, and she considered putting something else on but decided against it. A light on in the bedroom might wake Jeff up. Instead she took the blouse off and threw it into the corner of the kitchen.

  She walked over to the sink and gently handled the sprig of leaves and the dirt-crusted root. She ran the faucet and began washing the root.

  “Hey, babe,” Jeff’s voice called sleepily from the bedroom. “Are you comin’?”

  “No,” Julie whispered, as she continued to wash the root clean, “I’m just breathing hard.”

  She finished washing the root, tore off a few paper towels, and carefully patted the root dry. She left the root on the counter and picked up the sprig of leaves. After rinsing them
under the sprayer, she tied them into a loose bunch and hung them from a nail in the ceiling.

  The blubbering sounds of Jeff’s snoring filled the bedroom when Julie entered and finished undressing. Holding her breath, she slipped in between the sheets beside Jeff. She decided, as she closed her eyes to sleep, that if he woke her up in the night and wanted to have her, he could.

  .VI.

  Just before dawn, Julie awoke with a start when she heard the loud report of a rifle. She sat up in her bed and looked out the window. Holding her breath, she listened, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the pale gray sky.

  Again, a shot split the morning stillness, making Julie jump. The movement woke Jeff up, and he rolled over, forcefully sliding his hand between Julie’s legs.

  .VII.

  The echo of the first shot was still rolling back from the hills that ringed Martin’s Lake. Frank Simmons rose stiffly from where he had been hiding behind a low stone wall. There was a wide smile on his face.

  “You goddamn son of a bitch,” he said, almost laughing, as he moved across the field toward the fallen gray bulk.

  In the early morning chill, a crow cawed.

  Holding his rifle, cocked and trained on the fallen form, Frank inched his way toward the motionless dog. The animal looked ghost-like in the pale, gathering light.

  As he got closer to the dog, Frank could see that the animal was still alive. His ribs rose and fell rapidly as he tried to hold onto life. A widening pool of blood spread out around the dog’s belly.

  “That’s about all for you,” Frank said, raising the rifle to his shoulder and squinting down the sights.

  The dog whimpered pitifully, his lungs filled with blood. He lifted his head and looked at Frank with dimming eyes.

  “You’ve killed your last calf, you son of a bitch!” Frank said as he took sight on the dog’s head. He squeezed the trigger, and the top half of the dog’s head disappeared.

  Chapter Six

  .I.

  Monday, October 20

  Bob looked over at Lisa, who sat slumped in the passenger seat with her head resting against the side window. In the dim light of dusk, he could see her bruised and swollen cheek. It looked like it was stained with grape juice. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  Bob moved his hand from the gearshift to her knee, and she jumped with a snap and then relaxed.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked softly. His voice was reassuring.

  Lisa ran her hand under her nose and sniffed loudly. She winced when her knuckles brushed against the bruise.

  “Was it about us?” Bob asked.

  “No,” Lisa answered sullenly. “Well, maybe. A little, I guess.”

  “Did you—explain?”

  She looked at him coolly. Her face was pasty, washed of color. Her eyes looked almost vacant. When she replied, her voice sounded like crinkled paper. “What’s to explain? We haven’t done anything that needs explaining!”

  “You know what I mean.” Bob sounded firm. “I think you’re a fool not to dump him. Serve papers on him.” He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand; his hand on her knee tightened, almost painfully. “Nobody has to put up with that kind of treatment! Christ, Lisa!”

  “Bob, please,” Lisa pleaded.

  “I’m serious. For your own good. He’s running all over town, making you look foolish, because you’re pretending you don’t see it. The sooner you admit it and deal with it—Well, how many more times is he going to beat you up?”

  Lisa’s eyes overflowed. “He wasn’t always like this,” she cried, her voice breaking. “He didn’t used to drink and, and run around. When we were first married, I couldn’t have asked for a better husband.”

  “Well, I know you must have seen something in him,” Bob said. There was a trace of cynicism in his voice.

  “It’s only been in the last year or so that he’s, he’s changed so much. It’s like he’s a different person.”

  “So why don’t you leave him?” Bob pressed.

  “I love him!” Lisa said loudly, then her voice broke. “Or, I used to love him. I just don’t know him anymore. It’s like, like he’s turning into a beast or something.”

  “Then you have every right to leave him,” Bob said. “Especially if he’s going to do something like this to you.” He reached toward her face and rubbed her cheek with a delicate touch.

  Lisa looked at him. Her lower lip trembled and then, suddenly, the emotion flooded out. With a groan, she pressed her face into Bob’s chest and cried.

  “There, there,” he said soothingly. “Let it out. Let it all out.” He pulled her to him and patted her shoulder.

  Bob looked out at the fading brightness of the sky. They were parked at the top of Cemetery Hill, just across from one of the wrought-iron gates to the graveyard. The sun had set behind the hill, streaking the sky with yellow. Gravestones stood out black against the sky, reminding Bob of a row of broken teeth. The image gave him a sudden, nameless discomfort.

  “There, there,” he whispered again, but this time he noticed a tightness in his voice.

  He let his gaze wander back toward the cemetery, to the heavy iron gate that was attached to two granite pillars. He then noticed that the gate was swaying back and forth slightly, almost imperceptibly. His eyes darted to the trees overhead to see if there was any wind. There was none.

  Fighting back the feeling of uneasiness, he stroked Lisa’s hair softly. He was relieved to feel that she was no longer shaking. Her breathing was even and deep. He thought she might be asleep.

  The sky was now dark. Bob looked back at the cemetery gate. It was still swinging, just barely moving. Then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized that there was something on top of the left pillar. He squinted, and finally recognized the form of a large white cat, nonchalantly licking its paw. The white fur glowed, almost glimmered against the night sky. The cat paused in its cleaning and looked over at Bob with a cold, distant stare.

  Bob’s breath caught in his throat, and his legs twitched. Lisa stirred and sat up slowly.

  “Huh? What is it?” she asked sleepily. “Too much pressure on you leg?”

  “Ahh, no. No,” Bob replied, then he forced a laugh. “Just getting a little twitchy. I get nervous around graveyards after dark.”

  “I must’ve fallen asleep for a second there,” Lisa said, shifting herself around.

  “Yeah, you did.” Bob’s voice cracked.

  “Hey, what’s the matter? There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Lisa said. She surprised him by leaning toward him and kissing him full on the mouth. Automatically, he put his arms around her and pulled her tight. He shifted slightly and stole a quick glance at the granite pillar. The wrought-iron gate was closed, and the cat was gone.

  He pulled her closer, almost in desperation as he fought back the uneasiness he felt.

  Moments later, still wrapped in a tight embrace, they both heard a sound that made them sit up, startled.

  A long, hollow howl drifted through the night, rising and falling like a cry.

  Bob quickly rolled his window down and stuck his head outside to try to get a fix on the direction. It seemed to be coming from the cemetery.

  Lisa shook his arm anxiously. “What in heaven’s name?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he said, waving her to silence. He listened to the last dying strains of the howling and then pulled his head back into the car. “That sounds a hell of a lot like the sound I heard out by the pond that night.”

  “God, it’s creepy.”

  The night was silent, and Bob and Lisa sat there looking around them at the surrounding darkness. Then the baying began again, rising in quivering notes. This time it seemed to be closer.

  Lisa screamed when a sudden burst of wind kicked up a whirl of leaves that clattered noisily against the car. They bounced off the car’s windshield and hood, sounding like scratching, like somebody trying to get into the car. Bob looked over at Lisa. Her panicked eyes held his.

&nbs
p; “What the…” Bob said tightly.

  “Let’s get going,” Lisa said urgently. Bob rolled the window shut and turned the ignition. He snapped on the headlights and pulled away from the curb.

  Bob was just shifting into second when Lisa screamed, “Look!” Vaguely and just of reach of the headlights, Bob saw a large black shadow emerge from the graveyard. A ripple of gooseflesh spread across his arms as he watched the form slink across the road and disappear into the woods on the other side.

  Bob pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car jolted forward with a squeal of tires. When he got to where the black shape had disappeared, he pressed down hard on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop in the gravel on the roadside.

  “What did you see?” he shouted, looking anxiously at Lisa and then out at the dark woods. “Tell me, what did you see?”

  “I, I don’t know,” Lisa stammered. “It looked like a big dog or something.”

  “Yeah, or something!” Bob said. “That sure as hell didn’t sound like a dog, and by Jesus, that didn’t look like a dog!”

  Lisa’s voice shook as she tried to gain control. “It looked like a dog to me.”

  “Well, it wasn’t!” Bob said firmly. “That animal moved just like a wolf.”

  Bob peered off into the darkness. “What’s through those woods there?” he asked, pointing to the side of the road.

  “There’s a, uh, there’s a gravel pit a little way in there. And an old dirt road that goes out to the falls and the old abandoned silver mine. Then just forest.” Lisa bit on her lower lip. “Hey, Bob, come on. Let’s get going, OK?”

  For a moment longer, Bob stared into the impenetrable darkness, then he shook his head and grunted. “Yeah, OK.”

  He looked at her and smiled. She returned a brave smile. “I’m telling you, though,” he said grimly, “that sure as hell looked like a wolf to me!”

  .II.

  “Simmons, you are one hot fucking shit!” Reggie Vellieux said, slapping Frank on the shoulder and then taking the seat opposite him in the booth.