There's Blood on the Moon Tonight

by Bryn Roar

  Her eyes popped open in the water. Only problem with that fantasy was it didn’t include her Buddy boy. She loved her daddy, would always love him, but he was gone. Forever gone. Never to emerge from the emerald ceiling. No City Under the Sea. No immortal bliss. Yet even if by some miracle all that was somehow possible, her place was here with Bud. Yes, up above, where dead mothers roamed oblivious; where the remains of beloved little brothers fit neatly into a kitchen sink, where the stink of corruption perfumed the air. Where maggots and blowflies held dominion. Even the Little Mermaid chose true love over her father; chose mortality and pain over immortality and bliss—that’s how it should be, you know.

  Little girls grow up to leave their daddies.

  Josie pushed off the sandy bottom and swam hard for the surface. She emerged feeling cleaner, stronger, and ready to face the day. Her mind was finally right. The self-pity behind her now. She wiped the sea from her face and drew her hair behind her head, wringing the salt water from her thick copper mane. Looking back towards camp, she saw Tubby looking over at her. Not staring, his focus still seemed too disconnected for that, but certainly aware of her now. Josie started to tell him to kindly turn around please, to give her some privacy, but there was something so forlorn about the look in his eyes that she didn’t have the heart to scold him. Besides, there was nothing overtly lustful in his gaze. Want, maybe, but not lust.

  Josie gave him a sympathetic smile and dried herself with the towel she’d brought along. Her nipples, already pebbled from the cold water, stiffened further under the rough texture of the towel. Then again, maybe it was because Ralph was staring at her. Josie glanced sideways over at him. He sat there on the sand, his body slack and seemingly boneless, watching her with that inscrutable look on his face. Josie finished getting dressed and then rolled her dirty things up into the towel.

  Tubby knew he should’ve looked away when Josie came out of the sea, looking like an erotic version of that mermaid cartoon, but his focus this time wasn’t of a sexual nature. His penis remained flaccid. His imagination in neutral. Benny Hill, that old prevert, was nowhere in sight. After the insanity of the day before, all of the cruelty, it was nice looking at something so beautiful, so unmarred by the ugliness of the manmade virus. He watched her dry off, her heavy breasts swaying, the russet hairs between her long legs glistening like diamonds from the salt water, without feeling shame or lust. Josie meant more to him than that now. No longer did he objectify her. His yearning to own her heart far outweighed his desire to possess her body. A small smile creased his lips as Josie sat down beside him.

  They sat there, silent for a time.

  Tubby inhaled deeply. Strawberries and salt.

  “I’m sorry about your family, Joe.”

  She kissed him on his cheek. Wet and cold, and yet impossibly warm. “Thank you, Ralphie. Sorry about yours, too, hon. I guess we’re all the family we’ll ever have from now on, huh? You, Bud, Rusty, and me.” Guilt flashed across Josie’s face. “And Bilbo, too, of course.”

  Tubby sighed deeply, content to remain seated on this patch of sand for the remainder of his life. If only that were possible. It felt good to imagine that everything was somehow right with the world. The sudsy wash of the waves, the frantic antics of the fiddler crabs, and the cottony clouds rolling slowly by overhead seemed to belie their current wretched circumstances. Surely the sounds of the ocean would have turned more portentous with the loss of their innocence! The clouds black and angry at all the wanton death and destruction. Where was the grieving thunder, the lamenting lightning, and the weeping rain? How could his parents, Rusty’s parents, and Josie’s family be so irretrievably dead, while the gentle waves lapped the shore so serenely? How could the world spin on, so callous and indifferent? He shook his head and sighed again.

  The loss of innocence obviously didn’t bring about enlightenment. “Bud left to get his dad that vaccine.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  “He wants us to make our way to the Bunker and settle in. He’ll meet us there later today.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking over at Bill, still sleeping heavily by the dying fire. “He says to make sure and secure his dad to one of the bunks. You know…just in case.”

  “Anything else?” She noticed Bud’s doodle in the sand from the night before and her heart skipped a beat.

  “He told me to tell you he loves you.”

  Using her finger, Josie encircled her and Bud’s name within the bowed curves of a heart. She turned to Tubby. “Now, tiger, was that so hard?”

  Tubby just stared at the doodle, wishing it was his name, and not Bud’s inside Josie’s heart.

  *******

  When Bud left the cove that morning he wondered if he’d ever see his father alive again. He’d left without saying goodbye because he knew his decision to go it alone would piss off his father and Josie. They would have insisted on going with him. And he had enough to worry about without having to look after them, too! Already he was feeling a measure of relief just being away from all that responsibility. He felt a little naked without a firearm of any kind, but at least Josie had something lethal to keep her safe. He hoped the five or so shells remaining would be enough to see her through the day. It was still dark when he approached Christine, parked in front of the O’Hara cottage, yet for some reason he didn’t feel as if he was in any sort of danger. It was as if the Rabid had all gone to ground before the sun could rise up and find them.

  He checked his watch: 5:50 a.m. His dad had contracted the virus around nine o’clock last night, and the hourglass had been hemorrhaging sand ever since. He ignored the fact that not once in his mother-sent-visions had he seen his father’s face in the sanctuary of the Bunker. Just as he ignored the vision of only three Creeps safely inside. His mother had gone to a lot of trouble over the years to warn him of the Fate awaiting them in the Pines. A Fate, according to her, which he might yet still alter.

  The only trouble was, if the future was a river—a river you couldn’t see, much less feel—then how did you go about changing its course?

  You might possibly redirect it at the crucial juncture…What crucial juncture? She said to remember…

  Remember what? Why couldn’t she have been more specific! It was all so frustrating, this vague peek into his future. He wondered if there was some sort of rule in the spiritual realm, forbidding direct intervention with the mortal plane. No thwarting Free Will, and all that.

  Bud shook his head like a wet dog, determined to loose those nettlesome thoughts from his mind. Too much thinking, not enough doing! It would either come to him or not. He opened the car door and tossed the keys on the front seat. Maybe Josie could find a clear path to the lake.

  He gave Christine a loving pat on the fender.

  “Take care of them, old girl,” he said, walking by her. It would certainly be better for his father not to have to hike through the woods.

  He spied an old hatchet, stuck in the middle of a tree stump in the front yard of the Huggins’s, and wrenched the dull blade free. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut cheese, but it sure as hell would leave a dent in someone’s head.

  *******

  Josie gave Rusty and Bilbo another half-hour before she had Tubby wake them. The sun had risen enough to dispel most of her worries and it was time to get rolling. Tubby didn’t hesitate to take her orders she noticed with some surprise. Even more startling, was Rusty’s attitude. When he got up, the first thing he said was, “So what’s the plan, Big Red?” No smart ass remarks when she told him. No bullshit. Same as if Bud was here. Bilbo was in no shape to lead, much less keep up with them, as they slogged their way through the Pines, and he knew it, too.

  He gave her a weak nod, acknowledging her leadership. And seemed relieved to have done so. It was obvious Josie would have to ease him along. At the moment he was too pissed off to even approach.

  All thanks to Buddy boy’s departure.

  Bill had decided the n
ight before that he would go it alone to the Research Center. It made perfect sense, since he was already infected. If any Rabid attacked him on the way he couldn’t get any sicker. And if, as he suspected, there was no vaccine, then he could put an end to his part in this nonsense without having to involve his son any further.

  Take one of those .45’s Bud had tucked away underground, find a damn hole somewhere, and blow his fevered brains out. His son need never have to see it.

  Maybe Bud realized that, too.

  Josie sat beside Bill and attempted to administer his wounds. “What do you think you’re doing,” he said, jumping to his feet so fast he almost fainted. He stumbled on the sand, feeling faint. “Damnit, Josie! Didn’t you hear a word John Cutter said last night? From now on, I want you people to consider me radioactive!”

  His reaction so startled them that Bill forced a contrite smile on his face. “No, I’m not rabid,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not yet, I’m not. I just don’t want you taking any foolish chances trying to tend to me! You can’t make this virus go away with some antiseptic and clean bandages. So keep your distance, you hear me?”

  “All right, Bilbo. All right,” Josie said, holding up her hands in surrender. “At least go wash up before we leave. The salt water will do those wounds some good.” She wrinkled her nose and gestured at the ugly bite mark on his neck. “If the sour smell coming from that bite is any indication, then it’s become seriously infected.”

  Bill did as she suggested, even though it felt like he was bathing in battery acid, the salt water seeking out his raw nerve endings at once. Bill bit down on his lip to keep from screaming. Once acclimated, he removed the pussy bandage from his neck, making a face at the vinegary reek.

  All the salt water in the world wouldn’t cure that.

  Josie was right, though. Not only did he need the vaccine, he was in desperate want of some antibiotics as well. He didn’t want to think about the sorts of bacteria, thriving in that fine young cannibal’s mouth.

  While Bill suffered in his salt bath, and Tubby finished eating a cold breakfast of Pop Tarts, Josie and Rusty went to gather some more things at the Huggins’s cabin. They were surprised to see the Plymouth still sitting in front of the O’Hara cottage.

  “He should’ve taken it,” Josie said, kicking one of the tires. “He’s got twice as far to go as us!”

  Rusty led her away from the Fury. It didn’t seem right, Joe kicking Christine’s tire like that. “It’s not like Bud can drive the car through the swamp. Even if he were able to find a clear path to the lake, he would still have to leave Christine behind. Besides, I don’t think Bilbo can manage to walk all the way down to the clearing, do you?”

  “No…I guess not,” she agreed, grudgingly. “I just don’t like it when he does stuff like this! Without talking it over with us first, I mean. It’s infuriating!”

  Rusty began looking through his dad’s closet, for clothes that might fit Bill. He called out to Josie, across the hall, peering inside his parents’ medicine cabinet. “Look, Red, I know you’re pissed at him, but Buddy boy is only doing what needs to be done.”

  “Yeah, I know that, Gnat, but why does he have to be the one who always carries the heaviest part of the load? Why won’t he let us help him?” She removed a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of gauze from the cabinet. She was out of luck with the antibiotics. She knew Bud had some in the Bunker, but she worried that the infection on Bill’s neck might need more immediate treatment.

  The question seemed silly to Rusty, the answer obvious. “Because he’s the strongest, that’s why! He’s always been this way. He doesn’t hesitate, he just does. I doubt that any of us would’ve made it this far if he hadn’t taken charge like he did. Besides, we are helping him! We’re taking care of his daddy, aren’t we?”

  “Let’s go,” Josie said, refusing to surrender any more ground. It was easier being mad at Bud than being worried about him. “We’re wasting daylight.”

  Rusty followed Josie out of the house and into the back yard. He came to a sudden stop and turned to look behind him. He half expected to see his mother, standing by the back door, her hands on her hips, fussing and carrying on: “Rusty Samuel Huggins, did you just leave my house without saying goodbye to me? Now I know I raised you better than that!”

  His eyes filled with water and the porch became a shimmering haze. He raised his hand and waved at the lovely vision standing by the door. The most beautiful woman on Moon. His momma. The way he would always remember her now. “Goodbye, Momma.”

  *******

  Bill walked by his bloodstained clothes and bandages, right where he’d dropped them on the beach. After enduring as much pain as he could, he’d stumbled naked out of the surf, over to the armful of clothes Rusty had brought for him. Josie came over to his side as soon as he’d changed into a pair of Ham’s overalls. She stilled his hands as he attempted to put on a clean, short-sleeved shirt.

  “Josie, what’d I tell you?”

  “SHITE!” she screamed. “Why must you Brown men be so feckin’ INFURIATING!”

  Taken aback, Bill sputtered. “I-it’s just—”

  “I know, I know! You’re highly infectious! So you told me! It’s not like I’m gonna be kissing your damn boo boo’s, you know! Besides, what good is the vaccine going to do you, if you end up getting a life-threatening infection?” Relieved of her pent-up frustration, Josie smiled, putting all three men at ease. “Let me pour some of this hydrogen peroxide on your wounds, and then you can bandage them up yourself. All right, love?”

  Bill tensed, waiting for the sting, but it just felt cool and fizzy. The peroxide boiled insanely in the depths of each injury, giving him a small measure of comfort, as if the medicine was seeking out the infection to kill it. Hydrogen peroxide is only a topical solution, though. Bill knew he needed something internal.

  After he finished dressing, the ill-fated group made their way up the trail to Christine.

  Tubby looked around and listened closely. After a night of demonic debauchery the island seemed awfully quiet. “Feels spooky, don’t you think?” he asked.

  Rusty’s eyes loomed large behind his thick specs. “Damn, Opie, after what happened last night? “Spooky” is a decided improvement if you ask me.”

  *******

  The Pines weren’t quite as impassable as Bud had feared—at least not the section he was currently traveling. True, there were quite a few trees down, and the Old Oyster Trail was a vegetative mess, but he’d found enough open lanes through the windfalls to make some headway. He’d seen no signs of life, animal or otherwise, though he’d come across an inordinate amount of dead squirrels. The occasional, putrefying raccoon. Even a bobcat or two. He didn’t see any dead deer, though, which struck him as odd. Had they all taken to the sea, as John Cutter had claimed to witness?

  Bud was jogging a good clip when he approached what he knew to be a large sinkhole. Several broken palmetto fronds lay lengthwise across the hole, leaving an area of less than two feet for an opening.

  To keep out the light, Bud thought to himself. He stopped and watched the ragged black window, smelling the rank stink of nearby Rabids. He thought he heard something moving about down there…a slithering sort of sound. Like snakes in a bed of dry leaves.

  He gave the hole a wide berth and continued his way through the Pines. He hadn’t considered what an ideal hiding place the sinkholes would make for the Rabid! He wanted to pass on that knowledge to his unsuspecting friends and father but wasn’t sure which direction Josie would lead them. He imagined that many of the infected were hiding out in the buildings and homes on Moon. Taking cover underneath beds and inside closets, like the boogeymen of childhood lore. But the grave-like holes in the shadowy Pines seemed a more fitting place for these demonic creatures to go to ground. With their aversion to light, they were like vampires retreating to their earthen coffins, before the sun could rise up and destroy them.