There's Blood on the Moon Tonight

by Bryn Roar

  “LOCK THAT HATCH, JOE!” Bud roared from the center of the writhing scrum. Realizing Rusty was about to bite his arm, Bud flexed his thick bicep around his friend’s neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. He let Gnat’s limp body slide to the stairs and turned his attention to Tubby Tolson, who had lapsed into a catatonic state, the terrible shock of seeing his dead mother at last draining him of his resolve. Bud carried him up the gangway so Josie could close and lock the hatch.

  The primal screams within easily pierced the slats of the louvered door…

  *******

  The floor, walls, and ceiling of the Captain’s Cabin looked like the inside of an especially busy butcher shop turned upside down. The flashlight in Ham’s hand played wildly off this macabre scene, giving it the aspect of a Pollack painting come to life. Repeatedly, Ham tried pulling Betty Anne off Frank Tolson, but she was too damn slippery. He’d grab a hold of her bloody arm and she’d squirt free, like a bar of soap in the shower, barely looking his way, as she sidestepped him, again and again. She directed all of her rage and ferocity on the Tolsons’, biting and tearing at their bodies, then bounding away before Ham could corral her. Occasionally she’d shoot a hungry glance over at the cabin hatch, as if what she really wanted lay beyond that louvered doorway. Ham put himself between her and the hatch, knowing good and well what mortal mischief that demon had on her mind. He ignored the rising clamor in his own head to join in the madness, to take what he wanted from the girl in the stairwell.

  To force her to my superior will!

  What stopped him was his love for the child. Joe Rusty’s child! For his own child as well! Rusty Huggins. For once that depraved course was chosen, nothing else would matter anymore, save his own animal desires and needs. The safety and well being of his only child would be of no consequence to such a mad dog beast.

  Samuel J. Huggins still knew Right from Wrong, though! Sane from Insane. Although it was getting so hard now to discern the difference. If he was going to help Betty Anne, and in the process save his only child from his mother’s predations, it would have to be soon. Before that difference between Sane and Insane no longer seemed relevant. The question was, could he do it? Could he reach down and pull his wife from the bowels of Hell? And in the process maybe save both their souls…

  He balled his fists and took a deep breath. Yes! He could still help his wife! Put her out of this vile misery. Set her free. And by the grace of God set himself free in the bargain. He opened his arms and called out to his beloved:

  “Betty Anne…Betty Anne! Come here, baby! That’s right… I’ve got you now…Shhh, baby girl. Shhh….I’m right here, darlin’. Let me…let me help you...”

  *******

  As Josie bolted the hatch, something cracked inside the cabin. A sharp, bitter sound. Like a fresh bone snapping in two. “Ham?” she said, stumbling on the stairs, her hands flying to her mouth. Something on the other side cried out in pain. In grief. The sound of a body hitting the floor…and finally, mercifully, silence. No…Not quite.

  Emma’s head kept rolling around in there. Sounding like a warped bowling ball, rumbling along until it hit one wall, clunking to a stop, and then taking off again on another uneven tangent. At the mercy of each pitch and yaw of the Betty Anne.

  Josie threw Rusty over her shoulder and carried him up the stairs, away from that horrible rolling thunder. Away from that ominous crack and thud. She shut and locked the galley hatch at the top of the stairs, putting two locked doors between them and Betty Anne—not that the wooden lattice doors were any real defense.

  Might as well be made of rice paper, for all the good they’ll do us, Josie thought morbidly. At the moment, Ham was the only one keeping the demons at bay. Or has he already done something about that? Josie considered. Betty Anne…that crack…it sounded like…Josie decided she didn’t want to wander down that dread filled road. We’ve got enough misery on our plate as it is. No sense in borrowing trouble, as her daddy used to say.

  As if in a spell Rusty came to and went straight for the closed hatch. Josie intercepted him and blocked his path. Her hands upon his shoulders, she looked deep into his watery eyes, shaking her head. “No, sweetheart. No.” Rusty Huggins blinked up her, his face crumbling, his whole world shattering right before Josie’s eyes.

  Bud took hold of Rusty’s elbow and guided him over to a chair at the bolted down table, across from Ralph Tolson. Tubby was slumped forward, practically folded into himself, his hands clamped tightly over his ears. He focused his wild gaze on top of the table, as if looking anywhere else would only make matters worse.

  Bud gestured for Josie to join them. The two of them stared at each other, straining to hear what was going on below. The rumbling! It was almost hypnotic. Josie could feel it through her bare feet, vibrating all the way up to her shaking knees. She resisted the urge to look over at Ralph, to see if his eyes expressed knowledge, or did they restrain the cruel reality behind a curtain of blessed denial. The hands clasped firmly to his ears seemed to reveal the former—that Tubby Tolson was all too aware of what was rumbling on the floor below them.

  “Here’s where we stand,” Bud said, slapping his hand on top of the table. Josie looked over at him, grateful for the distraction. “The Betty Anne’s drifting into the rip tides. Rusty, you need to straighten her out before we end up beached on the oyster beds. Now Josie, once we tie off in the harbor, I want you and Tubby to go over to Bidwell’s office. Tell him his fucking virus worked. Get him over to the museum with that vaccine, where we’ll be getting my pop up to speed. Whatever you do, don’t bring Dr. Bidwell to the Betty Anne by yourselves! We’re going to need Bilbo’s help down there.”

  “What about the paramedics? Shouldn’t I stop by the Firehouse on my way?”

  “That’s a good question, Red—but no, I don’t think so. You know Chief Briarson; he’ll want to take control of things from the get-go, and he won’t listen to some damned teenager trying to tell him what’s what. He will listen to my old man, though! So let’s stick with Plan A for the time being. We’ll contact the Chief once we’re ready. He might have some restraints that’ll come in handy, not to mention some sedatives. If Bidwell’s not in his office, come straightaway to the museum. Then we’ll take my dad’s Jeep and check out the doc’s home on the West End.”

  Josie’s forehead furrowed. “Are you sure we should separate like that, Bud? Why don’t we all go to the museum, then go find the doc like you suggested?”

  “We can’t afford to waste any time, Joe. Doubling back on our tracks like that. And we won’t have to…if we split up for a bit. We’ve got to find my dad and Dr. Bidwell before the sun goes down…“

  “Why?” said Josie, frowning. “What happens when the sun goes down?”

  Bud looked as if he was in a dream. Perhaps he was. “When the sun calls it a day. That’s when those things, those things come out to play…”

  They stared at Bud as if he was levitating. Forgetting Rusty was right beside her, Josie blurted, “You think there’s going to be more monsters like Betty Anne—”

  She looked over at her best friend. “Damn, Rusty…I-I didn’t mean—” Rusty scowled down at the table, staring daggers into the salt and pepper shakers. “What I meant to say, Bud, is do you really think it’s gotten that bad on the island?”

  Bud rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, Red. I’m certain of it. Deep down, I guess I’ve known it since Friday.” He saw the puzzled looks on their faces, the questions in their eyes, but didn’t care to elaborate. “Look, we all need to be together and holed up out of sight by nightfall. We’ll only have one shot today at getting some real help for those guys down there. That’s why I want to eliminate Bidwell’s office before we go racing all over the island looking for the man.” He shook his head and sighed. “Because if we have to wait till tomorrow to get that vaccine…

  He let that hang in the air, looking from one to another. The implications were mortally clear: Either they found Bidwell today, or Ham and Mr. To
lson were as good as dead. There was no question in anyone’s mind…no, not even Rusty’s…that Betty Anne was past saving. Like Old Yeller in the corncrib, frothing and snapping, nothing could help her now—save a merciful bullet. “We can contact the mainland authorities on our radio at the museum—they need to know what’s happened out here.”

  Rusty bristled at that. “Why help that motherfucker? He can call the mainland his own damn self!”

  “Sheriff Henderson?” said Bud.

  “Yeah! Josie and Tubby can tell him what happened—they’ll be going right by his office. Shit, Bud, let that asshole do his job for a change! We just need to worry about finding Clint Bidwell in time! Don’t go putting more on our plate than we can eat!”

  Bud resisted the urge to snap right back at Rusty. What was needed here was calm, cool heads. Starting with his own. “Even if that asshole is still on Moon, which I sincerely doubt, Rusty, we can’t trust him to do the right thing. It’s in Henderson’s best interest to hush this up…you know that! I’m sorry, man, but this shit is all on us. And my friend, we will not be shirking that responsibility.”

  The look in his eyes brooked no further argument on the matter. Although unconvinced, Rusty wisely let it drop. Bud turned to Josie, his face set in stern lines. “You and Tubby hurry up with what you got to do and get over to the museum before I can grow any gray hairs on my head. You got me, Joe?” Josie, hoping to take some of that awful load off Bud’s shoulders, gave him a carefree wink.

  Bud checked his watch. 4:15. Two hours of good daylight left. Yeah! We might just pull this off! That is, if everything goes according to plan. And why shouldn’t it? It’s not like I’m asking for a miracle here!

  As he slid out of the booth, Bud felt a hand on his arm. He looked over to see Tubby in the throes of despair, tears streaming down his cheeks. The last time he’d seen a face that desolate in was in a mirror, eight years ago.

  “Please, Bud,” Tubby sobbed, his muddy brown eyes completely awash in tears. “Please…. Please don’t leave my daddy down there. Please…”

  Bud appealed silently to Josie, his face clenched and tight. He could handle a great many things, but the sort of hopeless heartache, clutching at his arm right now, scared the living shit out of him.

  Josie’s maternal instinct was just the thing needed. “Look at me, Ralph,” she told him firmly. She grabbed him by his trembling chin and forced him to look at her. Their eyes locked, and at once his sobbing stopped. “There…That’s better. Now you know it’s for the best they stay locked down below, don’t you? At least until we—”

  “Can’t we lock him up somewhere else by himself?” Tubby begged her. “Like maybe in one of those other cabins down there. D-didn’t you see how that…that…Thing attacked him? For god’s sake, Josie! It already killed my mother!”

  Rusty shot out of his chair. “That Thing is my mother, you fat fuck!”

  Before anyone could react, Tubby threw himself across the table, his hands wrapping around Rusty’s neck. “This is all her fault!” he roared into Rusty’s furious face. If looks could kill, the two of them would have dropped dead in each other’s arms.

  Josie sat there thunderstruck, as Bud snatched the two boys apart. Holding Rusty in a headlock, Bud grabbed Tubby by the collar of his shirt and pinned him up against the wall. He bellowed hoarsely at the top of his lungs.

  “!!!THIS SHIT ENDS NOW!!!”

  Like ice-cold water on two fighting cats, his rage shocked the two combatants into silence. Josie sat in the booth, blinking before the awesome authority of Bud Brown’s fury. Never before had he ever directed it at one of them. Bud himself seemed taken aback by his outburst. Embarrassed, even. Still, it served its purpose. Hesitantly, he unhinged his elbow and allowed Rusty to free his head, stopping him with a murderous look when it appeared Gnat was going to have another go at Tubby.

  Bud put his remaining hand on Rusty’s wildly thumping chest. “I’m sorry, man, but that… whatever it is down there…that isn’t your mother. Your mother is gone, Rusty. She’s dead. Just like Tubby’s mom. Just like mine. So believe me when I tell you…both of you…I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. You’re angry and you want to vent that anger on the ones closest to you. But I’m here to tell you it won’t make the pain go away. Your mothers will still be just as dead.” He waited until everyone had caught their breath and recovered from the enormity of what he’d laid down on them.

  “Yeah…that’s the godawful news, guys. Now here’s the good: Both of your fathers’ are still alive down there! Just like my old man back at the museum. And they need our help.” Bud emphasized each word again.

  “They…Need…Our…Help.”

  For the next two minutes, everyone stood glaring at each other, the galley growing humid with all the heavy breathing and sullen looks.

  “C’mon, guys,” Bud implored them wearily, “time’s in short supply here. Either help Josie and me…or stay the hell out of our way. What’s it gonna be?”

  Rusty slapped Bud’s hand aside and ran up the stairs to the wheelhouse. A second later, the Betty Anne’s engines coughed back to life.

  Bud looked Tubby in the eye. “Okay there, Hoss?”

  Tubby looked at the locked hatch and began to weep disconsolately again.

  Josie came over and gently peeled Bud’s hand from Tubby’s T-shirt. “It’s all right, Buddy boy. Go up top with Gnat. I’ll stay here with Ralphie.”

  Bud pointed at the closed hatch, his finger shaking. “Don’t let him near that door, Red.”

  Tubby slid to the floor and Josie sat beside him, pushing his head onto her lap. She cooed softly, raking her fingers through his hair. “It’s all right, love. It’s all right. Shhh, now. Shhhh. Everything’s gonna be allll rightttt…”

  Tubby, knowing full well it was a lie, nodded his head in time with Josie’s soothing mantra. The truth held no such comforts for him now.

  Sometimes, he thought, coming to a very adult realization, all that’s left to believe in is a lie.

  *******

  Bud sidled over to the Captain’s wheel, where Rusty stood correcting the Betty Anne’s course heading. “You all right there, Gnat?” he asked, putting his hand carefully on Rusty’s shoulder. This time his friend didn’t slap it away.

  Rusty stared resolutely ahead. He had a look on his face that Bud had never seen there before. The look a Man gets while weathering a storm. “S’all right, Bud. Why don’t you get on the radio and call in a Mayday. Like you said down there, we need some help.”

  Bud stared at Rusty. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” he snatched up the mike from its rack on the dash and keyed it. “May Day! May Day! This is the Betty Anne shrimpboat, just outside of Moon Island harbor now, calling the nearest Coast Guard vessel in our area! May Day! May Day! We have casualties on board and need emergency medical assistance! The kind of assistance our local paramedics cannot handle! Do you copy that?”

  He released the key and waited for a reply—and all at once the radio seemed to go dead. Bud checked the Motorola—it was still on, the volume turned all the way up. There was static coming from the speaker, but it sounded different. Muted somehow. As if the antenna had suddenly vanished. “Am I on the right channel, Gnat?”

  Rusty checked the settings and frowned down at the radio. It was usually running with all sorts of overlapping chatter. Buncha bullshit for the most part. “Yeah. It was working fine a moment ago.” He took the mike from Bud and tried it himself. The results were the same. They went around the dial with the same outcome. Dead air.

  “Never mind,” he said, racking the mike. “We’re almost home, anyway. We can use another radio once we dock.” He noticed that several boats had already beaten them back to Moon. The harbor was half full—though oddly enough, no one seemed to be about. “Go on deck, will ya Bud? And prepare to tie us off.”