There's Blood on the Moon Tonight

by Bryn Roar

  “Okay, okay!” Bill Brown surrendered. “You know your King, kid.”

  The coffins lurched on to the next stop. They faced a tired looking farmhouse and a dusty barn; the doors of which stood open wide. The interior as dark as an Acme inkblot. The kind Wil-e Coyote always threw on the side of a mountain for the Roadrunner to crash into.

  For a moment, Tubby was confused as to what he was looking at—then he saw the mailbox.

  The name upon it read Camber.

  Tubby looked back at the bare yard, separating the farmhouse from the barn. A battered old Ford Pinto sat underneath the blanket of faux stars. Cicadas again chirred sleepily in the background. A warm, muggy breeze wafted across Tubby’s face. A humid night in the ol’ Rock. He could just make out the outlines of two heads, stirring about in the Pinto’s interior: one adult and one child.

  A thin cry wafted out on the still summer air.

  Suddenly a deep and familiar growl interrupted the scene. Bright red eyes in the inkblot. Tubby held his breath as the Saint Bernard, known to the entire world as Cujo, stepped out into the yard. Its alien eyes pinned Tubby to his seat. Like the strange, glowing eyes hovering over the damned in theChamber of Retribution, the Cujo animatron was a bit too close to the real thing to suit Tubby.

  He turned around to see if this was some sort of sick joke his newfound friends were pulling on him. They stared back at him apologetically. It was obvious they’d forgotten how similar this was to their shared ordeal in the Pines. (In fact, the red waiting eyes throughout the museum, had been Bud’s idea, and only now did he wonder at that.)

  Tubby’s attention snapped back to the shaggy mess creeping towards him. Despite his trepidation, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “How do you get your wax figures to move like that, Mr. Brown? It looks so…”

  “Real?” Bill said, smiling at the compliment.

  Tubby looked back at the Saint Bernard, the filthy matted fur, the foam, which actually dripped from the open mouth, the black lips curled back to reveal the dog’s bared teeth. Oh, and lest we forget, the blood red eyes. Yeah, it was real, all right. “Uh-huh,” he managed.

  “I appreciate that, Ralph; but that’s not a wax figure. Truth is, son, there are very few wax figures in my museum. The ones I do have, I had to send away for. My specialty is in robotics. Wax, in my opinion, is too stagnant a medium. Fear is motivated by movement. And like all of my moving features in the museum, such as little Regan and the Universal monsters, Cujo here is a working robot. He and Robby are my pride and joys. Yet if you were to remove his lifelike exterior, his inner workings would be no more intimidating than the insides of a toaster.”

  “So why do you call it a wax museum?”

  “Because the Dark Side of the Moon Robotic Museum sounds insipid, don’t you think? It loses the human drama that’s more closely associated with sculpted wax—thanks to that Vincent Price classic. Besides, the museum’s name was my wife’s idea.”

  Tubby could only nod at that. “Does it always…do that?” he asked, pointing at the dog.

  “Uh-huh. I programmed it to come out of the barn and walk to that very spot, then stare and growl at the lead car. Like the Mona Lisa, his eyes never leave you.”

  “Convincing, isn’t it?” said Josie, from the rear.

  “Sorry we forgot to mention it,” Rusty said.

  Ralph was relieved when the cars rattled on, leaving Cujo growling after them. They passed other exhibits that weren’t half as unsettling, though no less authentic.

  A 1957 Plymouth Fury (“Couldn’t find a ‘58”, Bill Brown said with a shrug, when Tubby pointed out the real Christine was a 1958 model Fury) lurched out at them from an alleyway, its twin headlights blinking on at the last second. Josie screamed, even though she’d seen it a hundred times before, and used it as an excuse to bury her face in Bud’s chest. Christine gunned her engine in frustration as they passed her by…

  A gymnasium spruced up for a high school Prom. Carrie White on the stage. Just after the bucket of pig’s blood. The gym’s doors slamming shut of their own volition. The overhead lights popping out in succession, sparks flying, muffled screams, flames roaring…

  Seven kids, not a whole lot younger than theCreeps, lost in a sewer main. A myriad of pipes splitting off in several different directions. The dank sound of water dripping (Bud’s least favorite exhibit). Tubby knew the seven kids weren’t actually lost; nor were they looking to get out; they were hunting for IT…

  The plate glass window of a grocery store, shuddering against the onslaught of mutant insects thumping into the glass. Shoppers glancing nervously out into the night. Screams in The Mist…

  Another cemetery, this one spelled out Pet Sematary. The hand of a small child pushing out of the stony soil…

  A New York City street. The dead littering the pavement from a devastating flu-strain, the only living creature a man in blue jeans and dusty denim jacket, his face naught but a black hole, his cowboy boots clopping like cloven hooves, as he slowly advanced on Tubby…

  Despite being the longest ride of its sort Tubby had ever been on before, the tour was over with much too soon. The Browns’ adhering to yet another showbiz standard: Always leave them wanting more! Out of necessity, the museum was bereft of much of Mr. King’s literary license. To give the King his full due would have required another city block or two. In fact, Tubby puzzled how the building, even as big as it was, could hold so much! And that was before they rolled into the very last set…

  The Overlook Hotel from The Shining.

  Literally the best for last. The Overlook exhibit was by far the grandest of the sets. It began with the lonely, haunted playground on the right. Swings, slides, and a duplicate playhouse of the Overlook. Its dark windows, sinister and sly. Tubby looked for and found one of the creepiest elements of King’s timeless tale.

  Wet, moldy looking leaves framed the burrow-like entrance of the semi-buried concrete pipe. From which one last set of red glowing eyes peered out at them. Waiting for someone to play with. Forever and ever and ever…

  Tubby shivered in his seat and looked off to the left. His eyes opened a little in surprise. The Hedge Maze, a Stanley Kubrick invention, loomed tall and forbidding. The groomed entrance very much like that playground pipe.

  A hungry maw, waiting to be fed...

  Bill Brown saw the look on Tubby’s face and nodded his head. “I know. I know. What happened to Stephen King’s Rouqe Court? Bud and I had some heated debates on the subject, but the Maze won out in the end. Like most people, I like the book better than the movie. I mean, Kubrick seemed to have missed the whole point of the story! But the Maze and the locales were two things he got right. Oh, and that amazing Score! Right?”

  Tubby found himself agreeing. “How far back does the Maze go?” he asked, trying to peer into its dark heart.

  “Far enough to get lost,” was Bill’s dry reply.

  The rest of the exhibit was likewise impressive. A pair of lawn hedges, clipped to the likeness of lions, fiercely guarded the exit. They even moved like the ones from the book! A pair of little girls in matching white dresses held hands at the front door of the hotel. They stared out, unsmiling, at the arriving guests before melting back into the lobby. Their feet never moving a whit. A shadowy, female figure passed by a curtained window on the second floor. Her silhouette lovely and soft.

  The curtain parted and a bloated looking hag with milky white eyes peered down at them. She smiled at Tubby and curled one long, bony finger invitingly…

  Water streamed out of her mouth.

  “Jeepers,” Tubby gasped. It’s the lady in 217!”

  It was obviously not as large as a real hotel, but as he had with the front of the museum, Bill Brown had designed the façade of the Overlook to appear very much like the real thing. At least like the Kubrik film version. Behind the façade, Bill informed him, was the two-bedroom apartment where he and his son lived. It was the coolest thing Tubby had ever heard of before.

 
The Browns actually live in the Overlook!

  As the cars carried them past the hedge lions and back into the lobby, Tubby became aware of the huge and goofy grin plastered on his fat face. Yet try as he may, he couldn’t wipe it away. “Thank you so much, Mr. Brown,” he gushed. “Gee whiz! That was just awesome!”

  Bill Brown beamed like a proud papa. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself, Ralph. And please, call me Bilbo,” he said sticking out his hand for Tubby to shake. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’ve got some more work to do. Boris needs feeding; Eddie’s shovel keeps getting out of synch with the recording; and the Tin Man needs to return to his home planet.” He turned to his son. “Buddy boy? Make sure our good friend here gets a key.”

  “You got it, Popsicle. I’ll catch you later on, huh? We’re gonna hang out on the roof for awhile.”

  Chapter Ten:

  I was a Teenage Werewolf

  Bud led the way from the lobby to an unmarked, locked door beside the restrooms. He slid his key into the doorknob and held it open until everyone had passed through. Josie went first up the service stairwell, Tubby right behind her, their combined footsteps a shuffled echo. Bud and Rusty straggled behind, discussing Garfield’s latest acquisitions. Tubby shifted his bookbag on his shoulder and glanced up at Josie’s swishing backside. He had never before been that interested in the physical attributes of girls his own age, but something about Josie O’Hara sure grabbed his attention. It wasn’t just because of how completely developed she was for her age, either. It was an indefinable thing, this attraction, which caused his head to spin and his stomach to ache. Like a flu that made you feel both miserable and exultant, all at the same time.

  He liked the way her chinos hugged the soft, yet firm contours of her hips and buttocks; the way those cheeks swayed hypnotically with each step she took above him. Swish…Boom! Swish…Boom! Swish…Boom!

  Sheer poetry in motion. The threadbare fabric, practically painted on her curvy fanny, was all but see-through. Tubby studied that khaki landscape as if it were a treasure map, the stitched lines leading from atop her hips, across her ass, and down to the depths of Eldorado…

  Where X marked the spot.

  Down the valley of the Shadow. Ride, boldly ride! The shade replied, if you seek for Eldorado…

  He doubted if Poe’s poem was referencing the same mystery he had on his dirty mind, but man did it seem to fit! Actually, Josie’s choice of undies didn’t surprise Tubby at all. Feminine to be sure, they were, the lines showing plenty of thigh and leg, yet applying coverage to those essential areas necessary for an active lifestyle. Not those impractical thong panties, which were so in vogue these days. In his opinion they only made girls look slutty and cheap. And no way were those silly things comfortable! The way they slid up the crack of a girl’s—

  “Its four flights up, Ralphie, Josie said, looking over her shoulder. She cleared her throat until Tubby’s eyes went back to where they belonged. “We got a fridge up there with some sodas and junk.”

  Tubby felt as if his face was on fire, the shame sizzling through layers of skin, muscle and bone. You’re a pervert, Tubby! A skeevy pervert! The worst kind, in fact! The kind that covets those closest to him. You don’t deserve Josie as a friend! Serve me right if she never spoke to me again. And yet all the while, his hungry eyes traced the khaki trail down to Eldorado…

  Josie knew Tubby was again gawking at her arse. Felt it, really. His eyes. She could always feel their eyes. Feeling her up. Undressing her. Tits and ass! Tits and ass! Is that all boys ever have on their minds?!

  She sighed wearily, dismissing her anger in this case as excessive. It wasn’t Ralph’s fault his chromosomes had taken a wrong turn. All boys his age were insanely horny and it was pointless trying to reason with their raging hormones. Besides, she knew he meant no disrespect in looking—unlike Lester and some of the other boys, who every day at school practically raped her with their eyes. Even so, it always surprised her when a boy looked at her That Way. For she didn’t think of herself in those terms at all. Sexy? Nuh-uh, that wasn’t Josie! Rusty was always telling her she gave fellows the wrong idea. That she was too damn flirty for her own good. She’d never taken him seriously, though. In her mind, she was just Plain Old Joe.

  Certainly nothing to write home about.

  That’s why on some level this attention at times flattered her. Some of it, anyway. Even if it made being friends with boys an almost impossible enterprise.

  At least I’ve got Rusty! He only thought of her as a pal, or possibly as a sibling, which took all sorts of stress out of their relationship. The kind of platonic relationship she now wanted with Ralph. She would have a tactful little chat with the boy later on, the first time she found herself alone with him. Josie felt bad for Ralphie, though. The poor kid was blushing so furiously she worried about his health.

  That can’t be good for him! His face so darn red.

  “Don’t sweat it, Ralphie,” she whispered, too softly for the others to overhear. She mussed his hair and gave him a bright smile as they reached the top.

  Jaysus pleezus! If I can’t smile at me male friends, then what’s the feckin’ point of having any?

  Tubby somehow managed to look up and return her smile. He didn’t misinterpret its intended warmth, either.

  She liked him. As a friend. Nothing more.

  Friends! With me! Sure! That’s miracle enough, Tubby! Still, he wished he could look at Josie through the same sort of platonic lens that Rusty somehow managed.

  Rusty caught up with them at the top of the stairs. He peered around Tubby’s wobbling waistline. “You say something, Big Red?”

  “Yeah, Gnat. I told Ralphie we’re going to watch a movie you recorded. You brought it along, right?”

  “It’s in my bookbag, Joni. That is if you and Chachi can behave yourselves. Cut out the damn P.D.A.”

  “Shut up, Gnat,” Bud growled, behind him. Alas, to no effect. Rusty was frightened of a great many things but Bud Brown surely wasn’t one of them. Bud could no more hurt a friend than he could a kitten. The two of them followed Tubby through the exit and onto the flat roof of the museum. The night sky blazed overhead with untold galaxies of stars. After the ride in the museum, the heavens above seemed somehow unreal. Fake, even.

  “No promises, Potzie,” Josie said, giving Bud a salacious wink. She saw him glance furtively at her chest, and laughed when his face turned as red as a baboon’s arse.

  Rusty rolled his eyes. As happy as he was to see his best friends finally get their shit together, he abhorred all that touchy-feely shit. Not having reached puberty himself, he couldn’t understand the fuss. Truth was, Rusty Huggins wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole sex thing. “Over there, Opie,” he said, pointing at the square structure, sitting in the middle of the expansive, gravel-covered roof.

  A plastic kiddy pool, several beach chairs, and a barbeque grill on wheels cluttered the outside of the cinder block construct. The rooftop building was painted sky blue, with puffy white clouds running the length of the clubhouse. An unlikely abode forCreepsof any stripe. Tubby would have bet anything Josie was the one responsible for the clouds. Topping off the four windowless walls was a slanted tin roof. Bud explained how the three of them had built the clubhouse several years before. Even before finding the Bunker. Tubby guessed it was about the size of his bedroom. A beat-up air conditioner stuck out from the middle of one wall, cooling what must have been an oven-like interior most of the year.

  A hand carved sign next to the entrance proclaimed itOff Limits to anyone but fellow Creeps!

  “I painted that goofy sign when I was ten,” Josie explained with an embarrassed shrug. “The clubhouse too.”

  As Tubby stood underneath the doorframe, Josie placed her hands on his shoulders and whispered huskily: “Welcome to the club, boyo.” She gave him a knowing wink, letting him know she wasn’t pissed off.