Night of the Purple Moon (11 page)

They moved at the whim of the currents and winds, often out of sight of land. At still other times the fog was so thick they couldn’t see each other. They lost track of time. The peanut butter and pretzels long gone, they spoke of ice cream sundaes, apple pie, and Twizzlers. These fantasies sated their hunger briefly but left them hungrier than ever. The biggest problem was no fresh water. A powerful thirst consumed them. Their tongues swelled. They sipped sea water in a moment of weakness, triggering violent stomachaches.

Kevin spoke up. “You can only last three days without water.” Nobody paid attention to him or took their eyes off Gabby.

“When we saw a jetty, we thought we’d reached New Hampshire.”

Helplessly they drifted past the mouth of the harbor—the Castine Island harbor. Gabby said she tried to keep her eyes open, fearing that if she fell asleep she would never awaken, never see her brother again.

Someone to Jordan’s right started to cry.

“Next thing I knew,” Gabby said, “I was drenched by icy water. We had washed ashore. I shook Ben but he wouldn’t open his eyes. Wave after wave pounded us, and I worried we might drown. Somehow I managed to roll over the side of the boat. I was up to my waist. I dragged Ben into the water, and he finally came to. We crawled up to the sand. And when we looked up, we saw this incredible house on the hill, and there was light coming through the window.”

Her story finished, Jordan excused himself and stepped outside. He located their boat in the cove across the road. The ebbing tide caused it to lean onto the bed of wet polished stones dappled with moonlight. He was surprised to see that it was a sailing skiff, not a rowboat. He understood the confusion. The skiff had oars, a centerboard, transom for a mast, and pins for the rudder.

The mainland was a cruel, ruthless, and dangerous place, and this tiny vessel had delivered Ben and Gabby here against impossible odds. He rested his hand on the stern, hoping to soak up some of their luck.

Abby parked the cruiser in front of the house where Toby, Chad, and Glen were staying this week. By going alone she hoped she’d stand a better chance of getting through to Toby, the leader. If he listened to her, the others would, too. She didn’t care where they chose to live, but they should share the workload.

Abby felt an added urgency to her mission. The renegade boys had no idea how lucky they’d been. If Gabby and Ben had not arrived when they did, Colby would have paid them a visit. It wouldn’t have been pretty. Abby feared the next time they stole eggs, nobody could stop Colby.

She walked to the front door, not the least bit surprised by the bottles and cans and garbage that littered the front and side yards and porch. This was how the three boys had lived ever since they declined the invitation to live in the mansion. They roamed from house to house, trashing one place before moving to the next. Derek had spotted their fresh trash heap in Eddie’s old neighborhood, which is how Abby knew where to find them.

A piece of orange tape, the type used at crime scenes, was knotted around the doorknob. The burial team had recently cleared the neighborhood of bodies. Orange tape indicated a house was free of corpses. It was more than a coincidence that Toby and his friends only moved into homes that the burial team had already visited.

Abby was certain the three boys were home, likely asleep, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Three cars, including Toby’s red convertible Mustang, sat in the driveway. The boys had had a long night. She had heard them in the early hours of the morning racing their cars by the mansion, blaring music and blowing horns.

Abby knocked. When nobody came to the door, she knocked louder and longer and then peered through the mail slot. The odor of garbage wafting out crinkled her nose. Someone approached and she stepped back.

Chad opened the door. It took her a second to recognize him. He was chubby, and his hair was longer.

He shouted into the shadows. “Hey, guess who’s here?”

Toby trotted down the stairs in his underwear but at the sight of Abby scampered back up.

A moment later all three boys stepped outside. Toby and Glen had also gained weight. Toby picked up an empty beer bottle and hurled it. The bottle flew over the cruiser and hit the road and skidded. Chad and Glen razzed him for it not breaking.

Abby knew that Toby had thrown the bottle for her benefit. He was proving to her that he could do anything he pleased. No adults meant no rules. He could go to bed whenever he liked and sleep all day if that made him happy. He had the freedom to do anything that only a twenty-one-year old could have done legally before the night of the purple moon.

She felt like saying, “I’m not impressed.” Instead she said, “How are you guys doing?”

“You don’t give a shit how we’re doing,” Toby said. “What do you want?”

Abby had expected a reaction like this. “Two kids came from the mainland,” she said. “They’re living with us now. You’ll never believe what they went through.”

Chad and Glen stepped closer, eager to hear more.

Toby smirked. “Ask me if I care?”

Chad and Glen both looked disappointed, but neither said anything, their obedience to Toby apparently greater than their curiosity.

“Guys, we’re stronger if everyone works together,” Abby began. “If we’re a group—”

Toby cut her off. “We are a group,” he said and tapped Chad and Glen on the head. “One, two… “He aimed his thumb at his nose. . “three.”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Abby said. “We’re all trying to survive. We can help each other.”

“You’re so predictable,” Toby said, feeding off her frustration. “Save your speech for your meetings. What do you call them? Councils?” He rolled his eyes. “We have everything we need. We can listen to the radio, too. We know what the scientists are doing. We don’t need the nerd to explain it to us.” Toby waved his arm. “There’s enough food and clothes and beer in these houses to last for months.”

Abby realized that she wasting her time. “Fine,” she said. “Please don’t steal any more of our eggs.”

“Steal eggs?” Toby’s tone mocked her. “Did you steal eggs?” he asked Chad.

Chad shrugged. “Not me.” He turned to Glen. “Are you the thief?”

Glen shook his head. “I’ve never stolen eggs.”

“We…” Toby doubled over with laughter. “We…” He held his stomach and tears streamed down his face. Spit flew from his lips. He took a gulp of air to gain his composure. “We might have
borrowed
some eggs,” he finally said.

The boys gave high-fives to each other.

Abby headed down the steps, debating whether to keep walking to the cruiser or to say one more thing. She stopped and turned. “Next time you
borrow
eggs, expect a visit from Colby.”

“I’m shaking,” Toby said.

“You should be,” she said and continued.

“Tell me, does Colby still think his father is still alive, living in Portland?” Toby cracked up again.

She clenched her jaw and wheeled around. Chad and Glen did not seem amused by their friend this time. She drilled Toby with a hard stare. “Can you ever be serious?”

“Yeah, I’ll be serious. The comet was the best thing that ever happened.”

Abby was speechless. Her heart was pounding and she could hardly feel her legs. She opened the cruiser door.

“Hey, I’m joking,” she heard Toby say.

Abby drove off. She didn’t think he was joking.

Driving the Jeep, Abby turned into the school parking lot at noon—right on time—to pick up Kevin. “I have a surprise for you,” he had told her that morning. “Don’t be late!”

Kevin was the one late. He had nobody to blame but himself. He was teacher, janitor, principal, guidance counselor, and school superintendent, all wrapped in one. He often lost track of the time lecturing his students about the differences between reptiles and amphibians, or some such thing.

It was the third full week of school, an experiment of sorts. Kevin had argued forcefully at council that everyone should attend school. He wanted every kid over the age of eleven not only to teach the younger kids, but to study an advanced topic in order to teach that subject to kids the same age and older. Others said it was more important to teach survival skills—how to milk a cow, sail, build a fire—especially to the youngest kids. Abby agreed with the latter group. She had not spoken up, though, because Emily summarized her fears perfectly. “What if it takes the scientists two or three years to develop the antibiotic,” Emily said. “Half of us will reach puberty and we won’t be here anymore. We have to make sure the youngest kids can survive by themselves.” Abby hoped Emily had exaggerated to make her point. In the end, the group had reached a compromise, deciding to teach basic survival skills to those under the age of seven, while Kevin would teach math and science to third and fourth graders.

Abby pulled up beside Derek who was behind the wheel of the minivan. He was here to pick up the school kids and drive them back to the mansion.

He powered down the window. “Late again,” he said and rolled his eyes.

“Predictable,” Abby replied.

Kevin, in fact, was the most predictable person she knew. Even his surprise for her was predictable. Probably some new book he wanted to show her at the library.

“I’m going to hurry him up,” Derek said and blew the horn.

Abby beeped, too.

Moments later the doors flung open and kids raced out of the building, laughing and shouting, this school day ending no differently than they had ended before the night of the purple moon.

Kevin followed with an armload of papers. “Let me drive,” he told Abby.

Her chest tightened. She fought the urge to protest and slid over to the passenger side of the Jeep, cinching the seatbelt extra tight.

Gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white, Kevin pulled out of the parking lot and took a right onto Millhouse Street. The winding road passed through the desolate western side of the island. It was the shortest way to the harbor and to the library.

Predictable, she thought.

“I taught them how to do square roots today,” Kevin said, beaming with pride.

“Please concentrate on the road!”

About halfway to the harbor, Eddie flagged them down. He was standing next to the Volkswagen. He told them that he had left the headlights on while gathering firewood. “The battery’s dead,” he said. “Give me a push and I’ll pop the clutch.”

The blue VW Passat was the only car in the fleet with a standard transmission. It had a clutch and stick shift. To start it up when the battery had no juice, it was easier and faster to roll the car and ‘pop the clutch’ than to hook up the jumper cables.

Eddie shifted into second gear, depressed the clutch, and turned the key in the ignition. Kevin and Abby pushed on the rear bumper. As the car rolled down the gentle grade, Eddie quickly took his foot off the clutch. The engine coughed and fired up. He depressed the clutch again so the car wouldn’t stall. Eddie thanked them, executed a three-point turn, and disappeared in the opposite direction.

On the road again, Kevin drove past the library.

“Hey, you missed the turn,” Abby said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“We’re going to the library, right?”

Beads of sweat glistened on his brow. “Abby, I told you I have a surprise for you.”

“It’s not a book?”

He made a face. “Give me a break!”

Becoming less predictable by the second, Kevin pulled into the dock parking lot and climbed out. “Follow me,” he said and headed toward the base of the jetty.

The jetty was made of huge granite blocks, about twenty yards wide, ten yards above the water line, and extended a quarter mile into the harbor. A flashing beacon, which hadn’t worked in months, was at the tip.

They scrambled up the giant blocks. Shell shards littered the flat surface where gulls had dropped clams to bust them open. On top, without saying a word, Kevin headed toward the end of the jetty and Abby followed.

“I know! You’ve figured out how to turn the beacon on.”

Kevin continued walking.

“I give up,” she said. “What’s the surprise?”

He didn’t stop.

At the very tip, he turned and faced her. “Abby, close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes. Her arms and face tingled from the sun baking the salt crystals on her skin. The bell buoy tolled in the distance. A shadow swept across the inside of her eyelids and she knew that Kevin had moved closer to her.

“Keep them closed,” he said.

“I am!” Abby’s heart fluttered at the thought he might do the most unpredictable thing ever and kiss her. She felt his breath on her cheek, but it might have been the breeze.

“Hold your hand up,” he said.

Abby lifted her right hand.

“Other one.”

Kevin’s touch was gentle as he slipped the cool metal braid on her left wrist.

“Open them!” he said.

The delicate gold bracelet had the most incredible ruby. The size of a pea, it burned fiery red in the sunlight.

“Kevin, it’s beautiful!”

“It was Mother’s.”

“I can’t take it,” she said immediately. His gesture touched her deeply, but Abby knew intuitively the bracelet should remain in the Patel family, a memory of their mother. If anything, Emily should have it.

“I want you to have it,” Kevin said.

She listed all the reasons why he should keep it, but he kept insisting. Abby finally gave in and said, “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

He stared at her, saying nothing. She knew the look. He was about to kiss her. At her friend Mel’s twelfth birthday party, Doug had had that same expression of fear and confusion before he kissed her.

Abby moved closer to Kevin and lifted her chin. Surrounded by water, at the tip of the jetty, they were on their own little island. His eyes were dark brown and his skin perfectly smooth.

Kevin cleared his throat, turned and walked away.

Had she done something wrong? No, it was Kevin. He had chickened out. He had become predictable again. Abby made sure her pocket didn’t have a hole and tucked the ruby bracelet safely inside.