There's Blood on the Moon Tonight

by Bryn Roar

  At least as it applied to RS13.

  “Got one on my side, too,” Josie said, unaware of the numbers massing on Rusty’s flank. She aimed her pistol right between the pair of red eyes, some twenty feet away. She held her breath, and then released it slowly, as she squeezed the trigger. The .45 bucked in her hand, the report from the Colt reverberating rudely in the forest.

  A couple of the Rabids on Rusty’s side squealed in either panic or anger, then all was silent again.

  “Did you kill it?” Rusty asked her.

  His pistol bounced from one pair of shining eyes to another. There were so many he didn’t know which ones to shoot at first. He realized if the Rabids decided to charge them all at once, there wasn’t enough time or bullets to kill them all. He wondered if the Rabids were capable of such a sacrifice. When Josie didn’t answer, Rusty called out again.

  “Joe? You all right?!?”

  Josie squinted through the gun smoke, spying the body sprawled on the ground, its head lost in the palmettos. “Yeah, I’m okay, Rusty. Just making sure it was dead. My side’s clear. What’s yours look like over there?”

  “They’re all over the place! Too many to count!”

  “Shoot at their eyes. There’s no better target.”

  “Give me a hand, will ya, Joe? There’s too many of ‘em, and I’m not so good with this .45!”

  “Don’t abandon your flank, Red!” Bud called out from below, already halfway back up the tree. “That’s what they want! Just switch sides! I’ll be out in a sec!”

  Tubby was clinging to Bud’s neck, his good leg wrapped around his friend’s waist, while his broken leg dangled unnaturally. Bud pulled them steadily out, hand over fist, with the rope. The slim tree creaked ominously under their combined weight. He could hear his friends scampering above him, trading places. Then he heard Josie set her feet shoulder-width apart, then the deep breath that followed, and then the Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! of her handgun. The .45 ejected the spent shells and sent them tumbling down the hole past Bud. Several satisfying Thuds! shook the earth above him.

  “Good shooting!” Rusty crowed. He watched the rest of the Rabids retreat deeper into the bush.

  Bud reached the earthen lip and paused to catch his breath, his eyes scoping the perimeter around the sinkhole. The sweep of his friends’ flashlights didn’t pick out any more red peepers. The Rabids were still out there, though. Just waiting for the right opportunity to overrun them.

  “Did you get any for me?” Tubby asked, from behind Bud’s head.

  Josie beamed down at Tubby, her face rapturously a-glow. Bud felt a jealous twinge deep in his heart. He had assumed that look on her face was reserved solely for him.

  “Ralphie!” she shrieked happily. “You’re okay!”

  “If you say so,” Tubby chuckled anemically.

  Bud felt Tubby’s arms start to shake. He quickly scampered out of the hole and set his friend down on the ground. Tubby laid there like Sonny Liston on the canvas. In a hazy daze, his eyes soggy and bright with fever

  Abruptly, he turned his head and tossed his cookies. Josie bent down and wiped Ralph’s face and mouth with the sleeve of her coat. “Ahh, Joe, not your coat,” Tubby groaned, seeing his spew on her club jacket. It seemed a sacrilege to him.

  “Hush,” she said, bringing her water bottle to his lips. “We’ve got an hour of hard traveling ahead of us. You think you can hold on to Bud’s back for that long? If not, say so now and we’ll just build a campfire out here.”

  “Hey, that sounds like a good idea,” Rusty piped in. “Why don’t we do that? Camp out here?”

  Something crashed through the ground cover. They turned as one to the rushing threat and fired off a combined salvo. The converging lead blew it off its bare feet and right into a tree. Impaled on a broken branch, the Rabid stared curiously at the stake growing out of its gushing gut.

  The naked man twitched there like a roach, run through with a pin. Other Rabids began moving about in the surrounding foliage, never staying in one spot long enough for theCreeps to draw a bead on their eyes.

  “That’s why we can’t stay,” Tubby said. “Stay long enough in one spot and those things will rush us en masse.”

  “He’s right,” Bud said. “We’ve got to keep moving and stay aggressive. If they give you a target, oblige them with a bullet. That’s the only thing keeping them in the bush. Now let’s get Tubby squared away.” Bud removed the Rambo knife from its sheath and cut several lengths from the rope. He handed them to Rusty, while addressing Josie. “Keep a sharp eye while we strap Tubby to my back. Don’t worry about wasting ammo, either. We got plenty.”

  Josie nodded and turned her attention back to the woods, her .45 held out expertly in one hand, the Maglite in the other, sweeping the forest primeval. Bud had taught her well. Deep in the foliage, Rabids cursed them in their garbled language. Some of it intelligible, most not. More and more, Josie no longer thought of these things as real people. Their threats to rape her and her friends fell on deaf ears. She was more afraid of ending up like them, and resented the Rabids’ intense efforts to bring them into their fold. At least it made it easier to pull the damn trigger.

  Bud sat down with his back to Tubby.

  “Put your arms around me again, Hoss. Gnat, tie his waist and good leg around—”

  “No!” Tubby wailed. “What if you need to ditch me?! For god’s sake, Bud, you can’t carry me all the way to the lake! I weigh a ton! Maybe you should just leave me down in the—”

  Bud turned and gave Ralph a crazy/mean look he usually reserved for assholes like the Noonan brothers. “Are you finished?” he asked the stunned boy. His words were laced with real menace. They rumbled in the air like thunder. Tubby gulped and nodded. “Good, because we don’t have time for your bullshit.” He looked up at Josie and Rusty. “Do we, guys?”

  “No,” said Josie. Just as cold. Just as menacing.

  “Does Hell go with No?” Rusty said, swatting Tubby on the top of his head.

  “Now get on my shoulders, Ralph. Right. Now.”

  Tubby did so, and Rusty set about securing the two of them together, snug as a slug in the same color rug. “There,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “His big behind ain’t going nowhere, Bud.”

  “You feel settled back there?” Bud asked, in a much gentler tone now.

  Tubby actually did feel secure on Bud’s broad back. With the ropes holding him in place, it was no longer necessary for him to hold on tight. Bud seemed to carry him with ease, too; his spine straight, not bent over with the added weight. Even so, Tubby didn’t see how his friend could carry him on the run, all the way to the Bunker. Not that he was in any shape to argue. It wouldn’t matter to his friends if he did. They weren’t going to leave him behind, no matter what he said. This both shamed him and filled him with a sense of love. “I’m good,” he replied softly. “Don’t worry about me, Bud. I want to be of help, though. Do you have another gun I could use? Maybe a flashlight? My gear’s down in the hole.”

  “I put your stuff in my bag,” Rusty assured him. He patted the overstuffed backpack on his shoulder.

  “We got enough firearms for everyone,” said Josie.

  “That’s a good idea,” Bud said. “Big Red, you’ve got my backpack, right?” Josie turned so Bud could see his bag on her back, nestled beside her own. “Great. Give Rusty the .38 I packed in there; he’s pretty good with that peashooter. Give Tubby your .45. You can use the Mossberg, since you’ll be taking the point.”

  Josie handed the .38 to Rusty, checked the safety on Bud’s .45, then helped him secure it in the pocket of his Levis. She then handed Tubby her Colt after re-loading the weapon. Tubby took the clip out and slapped it back into place. “Just like the gun Sgt. Fury carries,” he grinned impishly. “So you guys must be my Howling Commandos”

  “You handle that firearm just like Nick Fury,” Bud replied. Ready to go now, he shifted Tubby’s weight on his back and then began to lead the way. Rusty
took up the rear, and Josie hustled to take her place up front.

  “My dad had a prop gun just like this one,” Tubby said, nostalgically above him. “He told me it was the same one John Wayne used in the movie The Longest Day. I used to play with it all the time. You know…back when the world made sense.”

  “Shoot anything butt-naked,” Bud said. In a pinch he would be able to draw his weapon, but for the most part he was going to need both of his hands, holding on to Tubby’s legs, all the way to the Bunker. Right away he could tell Josie was dogging it for his sake. “C’mon, Joe! Pick ‘em up, girl! I know you can run faster than that!”

  “You need to pace yourself,” she said, coolly blasting away at a pair of eyes that got too close. They could hear the peppery thud of the double-aught shredding its meaty target. The Rabid, a big fellow by the sound of it, crashed to the earth.

  “Good shooting!” Bud said, passing the dead Rabid. “I’ll tell you when I need a breather, Joe. Now let’s go!”

  He gave her a not-so-gentle push in the back and Josie acquiesced, bringing them up to three-quarters-speed, whereupon she refused to go any faster. When Bud kept bitching, Josie said she was doing it for Ralph’s sake, not his. “Now shut your feckin’ mouth and follow me!”

  Tubby didn’t protest otherwise. Every time Bud came down on one foot, it felt like butcher knives were carving their way through his leg. He could feel the bone sliding up and down, seesawing through his shin. He prayed for oblivion to take him away once more.

  Forty minutes later and Bud was still going strong, even as Tubby was wilting under the relentless pain. As the pine trees rolled by, Bud counted off each of his waist-high trail-blazes. Finding their way back was proving an easier proposition than he’d dared hope. There! That’s number eight! Just four more to go! “We’re close to the lake now, guys! Maybe fifteen minutes away from the clearing!”

  “Why do you suppose the Rabids aren’t pressing us?” Rusty asked. “Except for that big motherfucker Joe shot, we ain’t seen a single one since we left the sinkhole!”

  Despite having the same misgivings, Bud dismissed them. “Let’s not worry about shit we can’t control, Gnat. C’mon, let’s take a breather,” he said, trotting to a halt. “Besides, I’ve got an idea I’ve been itching to try out.”

  Josie sidled over with the water bottle and let him drink his fill before taking a sip herself. She wiped his sweaty face and arms with the hem of her shirt. Strong as he was, Bud had to be closing in on his limitations. At the moment Josie was more concerned about Tubby. He looked no more colorful than Casper the Friendly Ghost.

  “How’re you fellows holding up?”

  Bud smiled and gave her the ok sign. Josie saw the loose trembling in his thighs, though, the tired flutter in his fingers. He couldn’t go on like this much longer. As for Tubby, she was more worried about the future of his broken leg. Of all the body fluids she’d seen down in that sinkhole. Even if Ralphie was fortunate enough somehow to elude the mutant rabies virus, he probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to keep his leg.

  Ralph looked up at her, his eyelids at half-mast. He looked ready—eager, in fact—to pass out again. He managed to bring up his left hand and give her a thumbs-up. He dropped the Maglite and Bud retrieved it without comment, sliding it through his belt.

  “Here you go, love,” Josie said, trying to tempt Tubby with the water bottle. “You need some liquids.”

  “Too queasy. Afraid I might sick it up on Bud.”

  Josie gave the rest to Bud, who slowly sipped it. He couldn’t afford to cramp up now. Refreshed as he was ever going to be with Tubby Tolson on his back, he was ready to go. The Rabids had kept to their buffer, and this made Bud nervous. Those streaking bastards were up to something.

  “How much further did you say?” Rusty asked him.

  “Not far. Fifteen minutes, maybe.”

  Josie wiped Bud’s brow again. “So what’s your bright idea, tiger?”

  “I packed the flare gun in my backpack earlier today. Get it out and the can of lighter fluid next to it.” Josie did as he asked, handing over both items. He handed the full can of lighter fluid right back to her.

  “Squirt that whole thing into the brush behind us, in as long a line as it lasts. Rusty, stick with Joe in case something makes a grab for her.” Bud watched Josie carry out his instructions, toss aside the empty can, and hurry back over to him with Rusty in tow.

  “Didn’t cover much ground,” she said, shrugging.

  “I don’t think it’ll take much fire to scatter those things. Besides, the flames will spread. The Rabids keep their distance from it. They hate fire even more than natural sunlight. Maybe it’ll give us enough time to get underground unseen.” Bud paused, staring at Josie and Rusty. “It is imperative the Rabids don’t find out where our Bunker is. At least until we can close the door down there.”

  Josie shuddered at the look on Bud’s face just then. Rusty took it a whole different way. “Fuck a duck! I hadn’t thought about that! That would suck, man! I’d hate to be down in that rat hole for a whole month with those retards knocking on the door! Talk about your bad neighbors.”

  “You gonna light it up with a flare?” Tubby asked Bud, thrilled a little at the prospect.

  “Nah, I’m kinda pooped,” Bud said, handing up the flare gun. “You do the honors, Hoss.”

  Tubby smiled behind the pain. He traded the flare gun with the Colt in his other hand. “Where should I aim?”

  “Over there,” Bud indicated with his index finger. “Right where Josie started the lighter fluid.”

  Tubby raised the flare gun and aimed it at the holly bush Bud pointed out. The flare left the pistol with a hollow Ploomp! instantly lighting the night around them. The flare bounced through the wetted target area, coming to rest several yards further than its intended target.

  The lighter fluid erupted at once, though. A blue line of combustion, streaking across the forest floor.

  The dense carpet of pine needles and pinecones caught fire and the flames began to spread out in all directions. The silence of the woods was now broken by the snap, crackle, and pop of the hungry blue flame.

  “There’s one flare left, Tubs. Save it for—”

  “Oh, good God,” Tubby intoned. He was looking off in the distance, where the flare was sputtering out.

  Bud followed Tubby’s wild-eyed gaze. Before the flare died out, its yellow light illuminated a nightmarish sight. The hellish vision reminded him of a clichéd old western movie. The kind where a multitude of bloodthirsty savages line up on a faraway hill. Instilling psychological terror upon the passing settlers below. Letting them imagine the horrors that awaited them before the horror even began. The moment was as bizarre as one of his dreams. The all too familiar sensation of déjà vu washed over him. He’d been through this many times before. Only in his dreams, he’d never seen the face of what was chasing him. Just the eyes. Tonight was the real thing.

  Josie and Rusty saw the mass of Rabids, too. Their numbers had grown from the two dozen or so, back at the sinkhole, to more than a hundred strong now. She turned to Bud. “What are they doing, lining up like that?”

  “They’ve become organized,” he said, stepping squarely into one of his dreams. Thanks to his mom, he knew exactly what to do. “Any second now and they’re going to overrun us with their sheer numbers.”

  “I wonder if they’ll take turns raping us, or just rip us apart,” Rusty muttered morbidly.

  “They’ll have to catch us first, sweetheart,” Bud said in his Bogart voice. “You wanna save ‘em the trouble and just wait here?”

  “Fuck all that!” Rusty said, giving the drooling horde the finger.