Moon Music

by Faye Kellerman

  No furniture in here. Not that she needed it. Everything in this old wreck was broken-down and old. But it reminded her of her grandmother's place back in St. George, Utah. She wondered how Granny was doing.

  My, Granny, what big teeth you have!

  All the better to—

  The house had come in handy. Inside NTS but not too remote. Isolated, but not hidden. She had parked the four-wheel-drive against the building, but it remained very visible. Even with the sand blowing—which gave the car some camouflage—she'd have to work quickly. The ritual took such a long time, but she had no choice.

  Shivering as gusts of wind and dirt coughed over her, she stripped naked. Her eyes directed upward, toward the lunar light.

  First a simple howl, just to get things started.

  With each subsequent ululation, the changes progressed.

  It took four wails to thicken the musculature of the thighs. Another eight bays to swell and elongate the arms.

  Faster now.

  Louder now.

  Deep cries to get the spirits going.

  Go, spirits, go.

  Her toes started to stretch as hair sprouted from hidden shafts, covering her feet with a coarse auburn carpet. The nails—narrow and sharp—lengthening until they extended beyond the digits and touched the ground before them. Her claws—painted blood red because she had polished her own toenails yesterday. Dragging her foot along the floor, she raked the wood in neat, parallel lines. Next came the hands, the fingers retracting as the nails turned into implements of torture. The fine, downy hair on her arms grew denser and steel-wool rough.

  More wails, more moans.

  Vocalization from the pit of her throat, from the cavern of her gut. Her spine bending, humping, pushing her down to all fours—a force beyond her control. Her head rocketed to the floor with a thump, and within moments she became unable to stand erect.

  The powers were coming fast now, racing with each piercing aria that reached the heavens—

  She suddenly stopped baying.

  Did she hear a sound!

  The rushing of the wind?

  Her heart galloped. She knew wind sounds. And she knew mechanical sounds. Like the sound of a car engine….

  No, no, no. It couldn't…it couldn't, it couldn't, it couldn't!

  But there it was.

  The hum of a distant motor, growing louder with each passing second.

  Louder, louder, louder!

  It couldn't be!

  Headlights spreading over the desert floor, coming closer, closer, closer, until they stabbed through the open holes that had once been picture windows.

  Who? But it can't…not Rom. Not so soon. It couldn't be. No…no…it couldn't, it couldn't, it couldn't!

  Her eyes frantically searching around, looking for help which didn't exist. She was on her own. Gazing at Deluca. To abandon such a tasty prize…

  But it was all happening so fast. She couldn't take Patricia with her. Enough energy left to remorph? Barely enough power for her own body. The choice, the choice, the choice.

  What was the choice?

  Escape or battle? And which form? Animal or human?

  No choice.

  Humans shoot animals.

  If only she had a gun. She had had a gun. Patricia's gun. But she had left it in Patricia's car!

  Why had she done that?

  A hint for Poe…that she didn't need a gun. That had been her rationalization at the time.

  Well, sister, you sure could use one now.

  The lights…brightening. Then suddenly there was darkness. The motor had died. Two car doors opening—closing.

  No choice but to shape-shift back.

  Her spine had already begun to straighten as she felt her toes and hands contract and shrink…her beautiful red claws returning to ordinary nails.

  No matter. She'd beat the bastards in any form!

  Opening the front door, then taking everything in at millisecond shutter speed. Poe saw something half-human leaping through the open window frame. His immediate instinct was to follow. But Patricia was lying on the floor, her skin as gray as dust.

  A split-second decision.

  No decision, you idiot! Patricia is lying on the floor!

  Poe ran to her, bent down and felt the right carotid for a pulse as he stared into empty eyes. His hands were shaking and his palms were sweaty. His breathing had turned shallow and irregular.

  "C'mon, sweetheart…" he muttered.

  He felt the left carotid for a throb. "C'mon, Patty, baby. Give me a sign, sweetheart, give me a sign!"

  Keeper was at his side. "Is she alive? Should we start CPR?"

  A slight vibration. Through gasps of air, he choked out,

  "I feel something!" Horribly slow, but it was something. "I got a pulse—I think it's a pulse." A weak, dragging beat. But it was there. "I've got a definite pulse, it's a pulse. Is she breathing?"

  Keeper was holding a mirror up against Patricia's mouth and nose. "She's breathing! Not very strong, but there's something on the mirror."

  "Thank you, God!" Poe muttered. "Patricia, listen to me, sweetheart. You are safe, baby. Safe, safe, safe. You're going to be fine—"

  Abruptly, Poe stopped talking. From the outside came the whinny of a stalled engine trying to kick in. Poe's brain registering: someone was out there trying to get away!

  Flood it, baby, flood it.

  Suddenly, Poe rose to his feet. "Keeper, is there a doctor in Mercury?"

  "Sure—"

  "Some sort of hospital?"

  "There's something at the base—"

  "Can you take her in by yourself?"

  "I think so. Why? Where are you—"

  "Hear that car engine? That's where I'm going. Backup's coming for you. Radio for help for me! And this time, get a copter."

  "How will I contact you—"

  But Poe was out the door. Keeper screamed, "I'll get you backup!"

  Racing through the wind as grit stung his eyes. He pumped his legs in hard, long strides as he tore toward the noise of the engine, which was running smoothly now.

  Only moments before the car took off in flight.

  He heard the engine roar, felt the heat of the exhaust.

  Charging through clouds of grit kicked up by the Explorer's spinning tires.

  Vaulting upward as the four-wheeler jerked into gear and bolted forward.

  Grabbing onto whatever he could, his hands gripping something hard and metallic. His feet were dragged against the ground as the car sped off. An acrid smell hit his nose as rubber burned away from his shoes.

  Being towed like a dead carcass.

  Uh-uh, baby! You're not gonna get away with it!

  Using all his strength, Poe hoisted himself upward and brought his feet up onto the rear bumper. Plastering himself against the rear window, he suddenly realized he was clutching the Explorer's stock-item rooftop luggage rack. He prayed that the bolts and welding would hold as dirt and sand blasted his face.

  She veered sharply left.

  Trying to shake him.

  "Not nice, Alison," he screamed. "Not a nice thing to do to an old friend—"

  This time she swerved to the right.

  But he held on.

  "You're going to kill us both!" he hollered, though he doubted that she could hear him. So maybe she could lip-read. He knew she saw him. She kept peering into her rearview mirror.

  Speeding up, then slamming on the brakes. The mechanism locked as the Explorer teetered perilously on two wheels, Poe riding it like a windjammer. Luckily, the wind was blowing in the appropriate direction. The car sailed, then slowly came upright, landing on the ground with a thud. It careened out, then spun in a circle, throwing gravel into his face. Poe felt something sharp dig into his palm—a screw or a bolt. He winced but kept his grip.

  "Nice try, baby, but no cigar—"

  She floored the acceleration pedal and bulleted forward, checking the rearview as she flew. Poe pressed his face against the gla
ss and smiled at her.

  Alison shouted, "You're dead meat, Romulus."

  Poe blinked, not sure if he'd heard her correctly, or if he'd heard anything at all. But out in the open—with the wind on your side—sound traveled. Which meant if he could hear her, then she…

  He yelled back, "Honey, eventually you're gonna run out of gas."

  "Not in your lifetime!"

  Again, she angled and turned sharply.

  Behind him, in the distance, he heard the beautiful symphony of wailing sirens. Seconds later came the rotary churning of a helicopter, its jeweled beam sweeping across the dirt floor. Grasping the rack tightly with his left hand, Poe freed up his right and waved like the Rose Parade Queen. The tip of the beam caught his frantic gesturing. A beat later, he was in the spotlight.

  It was all over for Alison. She was screwed, blued. What Poe sincerely didn't want was for her to go out with a bang, taking him with her.

  How to jump off a moving train.

  The sirens became louder as they moved in closer.

  Alison racing faster.

  The spotlight shining down, forcing him to squint.

  Only a matter of time before she hit something.

  Sirens closing in, a megaphone barking out directions: Stop immediately! You are in a Hazardous Radiation Zone!

  In other words, Poe was eating gamma rays.

  For your own safety and protection! Stop now!

  His brain barking its own orders: Jump before you flip and go flying headfirst into nuclear fallout.

  The sirens kept getting closer and closer.

  The ground underneath him whizzing by.

  Jump, you idiot! Before she does something suicidal!

  A security jeep almost at his bumper.

  Very close.

  Way too close. If Alison braked suddenly, he'd be pressed duck.

  Jump! JUMP!

  Alison continued to speed, breaking through a loose rope and some old metal fencing. Abruptly the sirens seemed to be losing ground, almost as if the pursuing vehicles were pulling back.

  He blinked.

  They were pulling back!

  They were actually slowing…stopping!

  He screamed out, "What the fuck are you doing?"

  The cars becoming specks of light as Alison dragged on. Suddenly, she started to brake, spinning out dirt and pebbles. The Explorer began to slow.

  Slower and slower.

  Then finally it stopped.

  Poe didn't move.

  Neither did Alison.

  The flashing lights of the police and security cars a good six hundred feet away.

  Why the fuck aren't they moving in?

  Why are they hanging back?

  All Poe could think was that he must be sitting on some real deadly shit.

  He remained glued to the back window, the wind streaming sand into his eyes. The helicopter was hovering overhead. All of them were waiting for Alison's next move.

  Without warning, the ground mumbled, then gave way, the car dropping down a couple of feet. Poe's stomach lurched. Looking down at the earth's floor. Underneath him, the sand was moving as if it had been scooped out by a big, invisible spade, funneling toward the ground's lowest point.

  He was sitting on some very unstable land.

  Alison got out of the car, the gusts blowing her dress over her knees, her hair flying in the wind. Poe watched her advance. She was moving slowly…carefully. He took directions from her lead. With meticulous care, he got down from the bumper.

  Immediately, the earth shifted downward. This time around four feet. No doubt about it. They were sinking.

  As Alison approached him, her feet descended deeper and deeper into the ground until she was wading knee-high in sand.

  Again, the earth fell.

  Poe was now eye-level with the ground's surface.

  He stood rock-still. So did Alison. The helicopter continued to spotlight them as it hovered above.

  To Alison, he shouted, "Quicksand?"

  She shook her head no. Then she came forward.

  "Don't move!" Poe screamed.

  Alison smiled. "So what's new, Romulus?"

  "Stop moving!"

  Alison complied. "Know where we are, Rommie?"

  Poe clenched his hands. "No, Alison, I don't know where we are!"

  She cocked her head to the side, and actually had the nerve to bat her eyelashes. "This was an underground test area, Rommie. Know what that is?"

  Wind was blowing fast and angry. He had to shout to be heard. "I have an idea."

  Alison brushed hair from her eyes, looked up, and squinted. "Tell them to go away. They're making so much noise!"

  "Alison, why are we sinking?"

  "NTS shot an underground bomb directly below us—right where we're standing. Doesn't it feel weird to be standing in the same spot where a nuclear bomb once exploded?"

  "I feel privileged," Poe yelled. "Alison, why is the ground giving way under our feet?"

  "Well," Alison said, "usually when you shoot a bomb down below, the ground above caves in."

  Neither spoke.

  She said, "It's from all the pressure. That's why there're all these craters in Yucca Flat. They must have detonated hundreds of underground shots here."

  Poe licked his lips. "You said usually the ground above caves in."

  "Yes."

  "Usually," he repeated. "But not always."

  "Well, at least not right away—"

  Again, the ground rumbled and dropped.

  Alison said, "This area where we are…know what it's called? A potential crater area."

  "Which means…" Poe felt his balance wavering as sand sifted beneath him. "This land has a potential for craters."

  "Big craters, Rommie. Very, very big craters. Hundreds of feet wide and a thousand feet deep. Burying everything with radioactive dirt as the ground sinks. The process can take days or weeks or even years. Or it can take seconds."

  From up above, the helicopter's megaphone barked: You are in an unsubsided underground test area. There is a potential for sudden craters. Do not move! We will send someone down to pull you up.

  Alison grinned. "How about doing some jumping jacks with me, Rommie?"

  "Alison, please—"

  "Up and down and up and down."

  She attempted to wade in the sand and instantly, the ground sank. She shot her hand upward and grabbed onto him as they both struggled with the submerging ground.

  "Stop moving, stop moving!" Poe shouted. "Just stop moving, dammit!"

  Alison immediately became inert. By this time they were both waist-deep in sand. She was inches from his side, clutching his arm.

  She said, "We're intertwined, Romulus. That's how it's always been with us. This push-me-pull-you relationship. We can't escape each other's clutches now. I realize that I'm dependent on your goodwill. But just as important, you're dependent on my goodwill. So, Rommie, what are you going to give me if I'm a good girl and don't move?"

  Poe squinted as he looked up into the copter's bright beam. For a moment, he wished the metal bug would go away so he could see the sky. The moon might be the last thing he'd ever see, because the wind kept burying them deeper and deeper—

  "Rommie, you're not with me."

  "I'm with you, I'm with you."

  "Rommie, I don't like that woman you're with."

  Poe bit back the urge to bounce on his feet. "What woman?"

  "If you're going to play games, I'm going to move—"

  "Rukmani?" he said quickly. "What's wrong with Rukmani? She's no threat to you, Alison. She's old, and not a fraction as pretty as you. What's your problem with her?"

  "You!" Alison shouted. "You're the problem—"

  Again the ground growled and shifted. Now he was buried to halfway up his chest.

  Alison giggled. "Won't be long now!"

  Poe felt a rush of many emotions—fear, terror, hopelessness, an intense appreciation for life, and a frantic need to survive. The air, thou
gh poisonous and contaminated, was as precious to him as rubies.