There's Blood on the Moon Tonight

by Bryn Roar

“I’m sorry, Joey,” he’d told her, “but as it is, we might not make it to safe waters before Jack catches up with us. We got to head north, with the pedal to the metal.”

  A weight had slowly settled on Josie’s heart ever since she’d found the note in her kitchen. The more she thought about it, the more she felt Shayna hadn’t written the damned thing. She tried telling herself that was silly; of course, Shayna had written it! If not her, then who?

  Behind her and Bud, on the starboard side, Mr. Tolson puked his guts out over the rail. Another meaty splash immediately followed—this one belonging to his poor wife. He and Emma, landlubbers to the core, were already seasick. Tubby, on the other hand, seemed to have been born with sea legs. He was up in the wheelhouse with Mr. Huggins, enjoying the roller coaster ride.

  Meanwhile, Rusty and his mother were playing gin rummy in the galley below. This sort of thing had lost its novelty to them a long time ago.

  Josie and Bud were outside wearing rain slickers. The driving rain pattering against her hood made Josie feel sleepy. She laid her head on Bud’s broad chest. Moon Island was just an inkblot on the horizon now.

  Going…going…gone.

  *******

  Wednesday, October 13th, 2,004

  Ham Huggins checked his watch. It was just after six a.m. and the seas, wind, and rain had finally calmed. The Betty Anne had successfully slipped beyond the outer bands of Hurricane Jack. He allowed himself to relax. The adrenaline, which had kept him focused and going, left him at once, and he felt tired enough to collapse. Jack had damn near caught him with his pants down! No harm done, though. Everything had turned out all right. The main thrust of the hurricane, which had weakened somewhat, was now turning straight for Moon, and Beaufort behind her.

  Ham shuddered to think what would have happened had the storm turned north with the Betty Anne, rather than drifting east. He yawned and wondered if he dare lay anchor, or continue on to a dock in Wilmington as he’d originally planned. It wouldn’t be a question at all if he weren’t so doggone tired! He’d been at the wheel for fifteen hours straight and he was beat.

  He yawned again and shook his head violently.

  Mercy! I’m getting too old for this—

  “Oooo! Is my baby getting tired?”

  “Betty Anne! You scared me half to death!” He had his hand on his chest, willing his laboring heart to slow down. “If you’d a been a snake you’d a bitten me!”

  Betty Anne handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “Thank you, darling. I could sure use some of your jolting java about now. Everybody still asleep below?”

  She watched him blow on the steaming mug before answering. “Frank and Emma are. They gave out a little while ago. After their stomachs finally settled down. The kids are eating breakfast, eager to stretch their legs on dry land. Are you tense, baby doll?”

  Ham rolled his head on his shoulders. “You know it, sugar. The back of my neck feels like a knot of…”

  He didn’t get the rest out. The sensation of his fly being pulled down shocked him into silence. He looked down to see Betty Anne on her knees in that pretty red sundress of hers. By the looks of it, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She looked up at him and licked her lips.

  She got his zipper down and stuck her hand into the open fly of his Dickies.

  “MMmmmm. Speaking of snakes....”

  *******

  “When do you think we’ll head back?” Bud asked Rusty, over a bowl full of Wheaties.

  The four of them sat huddled around the small galley table. Josie had on the bikini she’d bought in Beaufort, underneath her blue-jean short-shorts—what Shayna called her Daisy Dukes—and one of her dad’s old dress shirts. All three boys were wearing baggy swim trunks. Josie’s ridiculously huge beach bag sat on the floor between her feet. She was wearing green flip-flops, to go along with her toenail polish, and the two-piece bathing suit she’d purchased in Beaufort.

  Rusty was digging around in a box of Captain Crunch for the toy submarine inside. “We haven’t even docked yet, Buddy boy. You worried about your old man?”

  Josie looked up guiltily from her bowl of Fruit Loops. She’d been so worried about Joel that she’d forgotten Bilbo was still on Moon, all by his lonesome.

  “Not really,” Bud shrugged. He carried his bowl to the sink and washed it. “Pop can take care of himself. It’s the museum that really concerns me. That storm surge could wash all our hard work right down the sewer drains.”

  “Gee, you think it’s going to be that bad?” Tubby asked them. He was hoping his friends couldn’t hear his stomach gurgling. He hadn’t eaten a thing since his breakfast with Josie, the day before at Peg Leg’s. He’d halted his caloric intake ever since learning of their planned trip to McDonald’s. It had been a long time since he’d had a Big Mac, and he planned on having two. He avoided eye contact with the box of Captain Crunch; it was his favorite cereal—even if Rusty Huggins had his skinny arm buried halfway into the darn box.

  “Not as bad as it could’ve been,” Rusty said, giving up the hunt. “Bud and I were up in the wheelhouse last night when the news came over the short wave. Jack’s been downgraded to a category three. It could still re-strengthen to a weak four before landfall, but no more than that.”

  “Best of all, Jack is moving so fast now, the worst of it will pass over Moon by eight, nine o’clock tonight.” Bud sat back in his chair, his hand gently squeezing Josie’s bare knee underneath the table. Josie looked over at him and smiled. She wondered what her dad would’ve made of this big, tenderhearted boyo of hers.

  Rusty wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smacking his lips. “That’s right, boys and girls. This time tomorrow, Jack’ll be history—at least in Beaufort County.”

  “So we could actually head back in a little while?” Josie said, stifling a yawn. She and Bud had spent a restless night together on the floor of the bunk area.

  “Pop’s got to sleep sometime too, you know.

  “Aw, jeez alou. That’s right! What was I thinking? He must be exhausted after being at the wheel for so long.”

  “I imagine so, Red. Mom took him up a cup of coffee, so he should be good to go until we reach the docks in Wilmington. He’ll catch some Z’s before we head back tonight. Pop wants to have the engine checked over and have all his spare gas cans topped off before we leave. You know, in case the hurricane puts the marina back home out of commission for a while. After a late supper tonight, we’ll shove off around ten o’clock.”

  Josie tried to hide her impatience. “Why so late, Gnat?” She was anxious to get back to her little brother. They’d never been apart this long before.

  Rusty sympathized with his friend. They all did. “Pop doesn’t like to push the engines too hard, Joe. As it is, he’s heading back several hours earlier than usual.”

  “How do you mean?” Tubby asked.

  “Twenty-four hours, Opie. After this long a journey, my dad usually lets the Betty Anne’s engines get a full days rest. He’s making an exception this time.”

  “That’s right,” Bud said, smiling. “In fact, Ham told my dad we wouldn’t be coming back till Friday. Boy, will the old man be surprised to see us!”

  *******

  Ham lay awake on his bunk. He was facing the hull, with Betty Anne spooned up naked behind him, her left arm cradled on top of his stomach. He’d made it to Wilmington on pure adrenaline, docked the boat, and then crashed in his rack before he could pass out on his feet. He wasn’t a young man anymore and by God it was showing. Soon as he’d hit the sack, though, wanting nothing more than a few winks, Betty Anne came crawling into bed with him. And for the second time in less than three hours, his wife was doing things to him that she’d never done before. She’d even drawn blood this time, biting his shoulder as he came inside her. At first, he’d been pleasantly surprised with his wife’s newfound ardor. Now he was more than a little troubled. Like her sudden lack of modesty, it wasn’t like his baby to act this way! Their sex life, while satisfying, had alw
ays been on the conservative side. Missionary position, and all that. That morning, though, Betty Anne had done things to him he hadn’t fantasized about since he was a teenage boy still having wet dreams. And something else he couldn’t put his finger on.

  She just seemed…well, different.

  Maybe it’s just the stress of the storm and all those “Bad Vibes” I’ve been experiencing lately…

  He took Betty’s hand in his and kissed her slender fingers. They were almost hot to the touch. Before he closed his eyes and fell asleep, he noticed she had a little scratch on her wrist that looked infected.

  *******

  The Creeps strolled the streets of Wilmington, side-by-side, killing time until they could return to the Betty Anne for the voyage home. Bud and Josie placed calls at the first set of payphones they came across. Bud hadn’t really expected to get through to his dad, but Josie had been disappointed when the line at her Aunt Sissy’s just rang and rang. She asked the operator if the phone lines were still up and running in Beaufort and was told that they were.

  She racked the receiver, more concerned than ever.

  Rusty, attempting to distract her from her worries, asked Tubby: “Your mom and dad still seasick, Opie?”

  “Uh-huh. They’re so queasy that dad is thinking about renting a car and driving back down to Beaufort. Rather than going through that ordeal again.”

  “It won’t be so bad going back. The seas will be smoother on the return trip.”

  “That’s what Ham told my parents before he hit the sack. Dad gave me some money to buy them some Dramamine—just in case they do decide to stay on board.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother you,” Bud observed. He clapped Tubby on the back, and tried out his pirate voice. “And all this time I thought ye was a landlubber!”

  “No one was more surprised than me,” Tubby said, wondering if Bud had a cold. “I thought that was kinda fun last night! In fact, Rusty, if it’s okay with you, I thought I’d ask your dad for a job when we get back home.”

  Rusty stepped back in surprise. “Really? What about your job at the theater? It’s fine with me, but I thought we were going to work together.”

  “You’re going to be working with my dad, not me. I’ve been doing my part in concessions because that’s the only job I could get at my age. It’s not for me, though. Besides, your dad was telling me about the kind of money I could make on a shrimpboat, and with that kind of dough I could buy a new laptop! Something I’ve always wanted.”

  Rusty nodded. It relieved some of the guilt he’d been feeling over leaving his dad shorthanded. “You can make a whole lot of scratch working on a shrimpboat. Dad isn’t cheap when it comes to his help, neither. I’m not even gonna tell you the balance in my bank account. It’d make you greener than a booger! But I gotta warn you, Opie, it’s damn hard work. Hot as hell in the summer and colder than an Eskimo’s cootchie in the winter. And early? Shiiitt. Pop gets started as early as three a.m. some days.”

  “He was telling me. I’ve always been a morning person, anyway, and hard work doesn’t scare me. My dad worked me like a sled dog most weekends. Besides, I’ve been meaning to lose some weight, and this should help me do it. I need to get away from all those fatty snacks in the concession stand! You know how many calories are in our buttered popcorn? Sheesh!”

  “How’s your mom going to take the news, Ralphie? Shrimpin’ can be dangerous business.”

  “Gee, Josie, I didn’t think about that! No way is mom gonna let me take that job!”

  Rusty patted him on the back. “Don’t give up hope, Tubs. Let my dad speak to your father first, then the two of them can tackle her together.”

  *******

  After stuffing themselves at McDonald’s, they found their way down to the public beach, where Bud and Rusty stripped off their shirts, toed off their sneakers, and raced to the surf, talking trash every step of the way.

  Cramps be damned!

  Josie opened up her behemoth beach bag and tossed four towels to Tubby. He stood there awkwardly, too embarrassed to take off his shirt and join the guys. He’d worn his Einstein sweatshirt with the cut-off sleeves, because he thought it hid his body better than a T-shirt did. He knew if he got it wet, though, it would stick to his boobs like one of those slutty chicks in a Girls Gone Wild video.

  “Lay those out, Ralphie,” Josie instructed him. She stepped out of her shorts and peeled off the voluminous old dress shirt, unveiling the green bikini she’d put on earlier. Tubby quickly averted his eyes. “Relax, boyo. I’m not taking it all off, you know! This ain’t a nude beach.”

  Tubby tittered self-consciously, trying to keep his eyes on Josie’s face, rather than the amazing body her bathing suit did little to hide. Somewhere behind them, in a crush of kids lazing on the sand, a wolf whistle sounded, then another and another, followed by an appreciative: “Damn, that girrrrl’s some kinda fine! Yowsa! Check out those bodacious ta-ta’s!”

  “You mean the fat kid’s or the chick’s?”

  Laughter erupted and rippled all around them.

  Tubby turned and glared in their direction—not for the insult directed at him, but for the disrespect shown to his friend. Josie put a hand on his arm. “Don’t let it get to you. Assholes can’t help themselves. You know that.”

  “But it’s rude,” Tubby said. He was aware, though, that his own desires mirrored those of the laughing boys behind them. His hypocrisy made his throat clench, even as he stole furtive glances at Josie’s freckled cleavage.

  Josie flipped off the offending rabble and took a seat on her towel. Behind them, the teenage boys roared with good-natured laughter. They didn’t mean any real harm. Separately, she doubted if any of them would’ve had the guts to whistle at a pretty girl. She found Tubby’s attitude refreshing, even if he did sneak-a-peek whenever he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Boys! Haven’t they ever heard of a thing called peripheral vision? She patted the towel next to hers. “Come on, tiger, keep me company.”

  Tubby took a seat on the towel beside her and pulled the sweatshirt away from his gut and chest. It was nice out, and he found it hard to believe that just down the coastline a hurricane was bearing down on Moon Island.

  He looked up at the sky and peered off into the distance. The black smudge on the far horizon seemed of little consequence.

  Josie brushed the sand from her feet and leaned back on her elbows, checking out all the happy beachgoers. A little boy and girl were digging in the sand beside their sleeping mother, not three feet from where Tubby was lounging. The little girl looked up from her yellow beach-bucket to see Josie smiling at her. The little tow-headed cutie, her apple cheeks red from the sun, waved her plastic shovel, and Josie blew her a kiss.

  A radio somewhere was playing Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. The sunny sounds of a day at the beach seemed to harmonize perfectly with the Piano Man.

  Tubby settled down on his Budweiser towel. He could barely make out the signature logo upon which he sat. Josie sat on a towel with the famous Coppertone ad: a little blonde haired girl at the beach, a small dog behind her, playing tug-of-war with her bikini bottom. Tubby picked at the tassels on the fringe of his towel, trying to think of something clever to say. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Josie smiling at him. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just couldn’t help noticing how much you remind me of our Buddy boy.”

  Tubby winced, as if she was making fun of him.

  Josie saw the hurt in his eyes and she clucked her tongue. “What am I going to do with you, Ralphie? Don’t you know me well enough by now to know I would never lie to you…much less hurt you?”

  “Force of habit,” he shrugged. “So what is it about me that reminds you of Big Bad Bud Brown? Is it my rippling muscles, or my steely blue eyes?”