Quarrel with the Moon (29 page)

Josh heard someone breathing. He swung the beam around and cried out in horror. The round circle of light illuminated Reverend Hooper's cadaverous face. The preacher's eyes were unfocused and glazed, his mouth slack and a yellow froth edged his lips. "Who is it?" His voice, thin and agonized, sounded as if it were coming from somewhere very far away. Josh let the light fall. He turned the beam around so that the old man could see his face. The preacher staggered backwards as if he had been struck by a mighty force.

"You're - not - Orin!"

"No, I'm not," Josh answered. "I'm Joshua, Orin's twin."

Reverend Hooper's face became distorted with fear and his eyes became protuberant, as if two tiny animals were clawing to get out through his eyes. He thrust his arms in front of him, holding the palms flat, the fingers spread apart as if trying to block out Josh's image. "You came ... back from the ... grave! Avarilla killed you ... we buried ...
you
... under the willow tree!" Then suddenly his back arched like a bow, his mouth stretched open and a scream, horrendous in its power, issued from the depths of his own purgatory.

There was a sharp crack followed by a splintering sound and then a deafening roar like an explosion. Josh looked up. The stained-glass window had shattered. Shards of colored glass flew in all directions. He covered his face with his arms to protect himself, and when at last he looked back at the window, the remaining lead filling silhouetted against the sky resembled a web spun by a giant spider. Except for the face of Christ, there was not a pane of glass left. Then the lead holding that piece snapped. The pane dangled for a moment, turning slowly and distorting the features of Christ. Then it, too, fell, crashing to the floor. The glaring, evil light of the moon flooded into the church.

Josh, thinking the preacher might have been hurt, flashed the light on him. His eyes were tightly shut. He didn't appear to notice the phenomenon which had taken place. The preacher's eyes snapped open. He threw back his head and shrieked with hysteria. The yellow froth turned scarlet. "There is no God!" he screamed. "There is only the devil!"

Josh began to gag. He stumbled down the aisle, crashed into pews, fell, recovered and lurched forward again. The light pitched crazily in front of him. On the porch he leaned over the edge and retched. Still trembling, he closed the doors of the church. It was a symbolic act, as if closing the doors could forever seal away the ghastly image from his waking mind.

Sophie was sitting on the edge of her bed, counting her money. Her hair was tortured into rag curlers after having been freshly tinted with strong, black coffee. Her face was slathered with cream and she was wearing her favored nightgown, a confection of white eyelet lace and pink ribbons. She licked her fingertips and finished the stack of bills and the handkerchief full of silver. She pursed her lips and exclaimed, "Six hundred and twenty-six dollars and forty-five cents. Damn! It still comes out different. I'll just do it one more time. Uh huh, one more time."

Next to the bureau were the two suitcases Sophie had packed. One more night and then freedom. She'd arranged to ride with Reuben, who was taking a delivery down to Jericho Falls in his horsedrawn wagon. Sophie wasn't looking forward to the trip and Reuben with his smell and all, but it didn't matter. After all, she was getting out.

***

In the kitchen, a curved talon as sharp as a dagger neatly slit the wire screening of the door. Then a hand reached inside and flipped open the hook. The fingers of the hand were foreshortened and the thick thumb receded into fur-covered flesh.

***

Sophie stopped counting and turned her head toward the kitchen at the sound. She jumped up; the change in her lap fell clattering to the floor. She looked at the flowered drapes in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Why hadn't she taken them down? The curtains billowed slightly. A breeze, that was it! She had left the kitchen door open and the screen door latched. It was just a pesky breeze and nothing more. She bent down to pick up the coins, but she kept her eyes riveted to the ruffled drapes.

She would not feel truly secure until she investigated. She chided herself for being like a frightened child who couldn't sleep at night until it looked beneath the bed. She had nothing to fear now, Sophie reasoned. She was leaving that accursed community, going to start a bright new life.

She hurriedly swept the coins into the handkerchief and tied several knots to keep the silver from spilling again and set it on the nightstand. She smiled at her own foolishness and, barefoot, padded over to the drapes. She raised her arms to open them. The taloned hand slashed through the fabric and the nail of the longest digit cut neatly through the tip of Sophie's nose.

Sophie screamed and staggered backwards. The curtain was ripped to shreds by two pairs of grotesque hands. Sophie stared in horror at the visitors. The human identities of Alex and Marinda were still visible, but they were much changed. Marinda's cheeks were covered with hair, her flared nostrils larger, her eyes beneath now shaggy brows yellow and glowing. Her lips were stretched back over her teeth, which had become large and sharp. Alex's entire face was heavily furred. His ears were large, elongated and pointed at the tips. Four large incisors, two bottom and two top, distorted his mouth.

Sophie, bleeding, backed into the closet door. Alex and Marinda were changing. They threw back their heads and howled as the fur sprouted and grew. It was a painful yet sexual sound, as if they were experiencing some kind of masochistic climax.

Alex dropped to the floor and began moving toward Sophie. The shotgun! Her hand flew out and clutched the doorknob of the closet. Alex dove at her, his powerful teeth clamped around her narrow wrist. Sophie shrieked; he snapped it like a dead branch. Screams of agony shattered the night. His incisors worked through muscles, tendons, and arteries, until the hand was torn from the arm. Sophie's bulging eyes were riveted on the bleeding stub at the end of her sleeve. Sophie fell to her knees and rolled under the bed. Marinda's claws caught her bare feet and rent the bottoms like knives cutting through warm butter.

Despite her pain, Sophie had the presence of mind to tear a ruffle from her nightgown, and, using her teeth and her remaining hand, tied a tourniquet above her mangled wrist. Her hair and curlers became entangled in the springs of the bed. Sophie pulled and twisted but managed to leave several clumps of hair behind. She dragged herself to the head of the bed and pressed her body against the wall. Tears of fright and pain blurred her vision. She blinked them away as she tried to will her mind to function. Thinking as a process was impossible; Sophie could only act from the instinct of survival.

Sophie heard them breathing and saw them crouching on either side of the bed, savoring her whimpering fear. Marinda stood up. Sophie watched as she walked on padded feet toward the nightstand. The patterns of light began to shift. Marinda had picked up the kerosene lamp. The shadows began moving crazily, and Sophie smelled the acrid odor of kerosene. There was a loud whoosh; she knew with heart-rending certainty that Marinda had set fire to the bed.

The coverlet ignited first and fingers of smoke began to drift toward the ceiling. As the flames burned Sophie was shocked into a vital realization. "My money!" she cried. "Oh, my money!" Her escape was blocked by Alex and Marinda standing on either side of the bed and her hope chest at the foot. Sophie moved to the back wall, shoved her arm up between the wall and the brass headboard, and pushing, managed to make a space large enough for herself. She grasped the headboard and pulled herself to her feet. The bedclothes were in flames. The paper money, curling and burning like leaves, was turning into bits of blackened soot which floated toward the ceiling. Sophie, weak from loss of blood, knew she was going to die. But with the money gone, she didn't really care. Through the feverish flow of the fire she saw the creatures positioned by the bed. They were watching her. The pillows were burning now, and the stench of burning feathers filled the air.

Sophie moved sideways, hoping to reach the bedroom window. Suddenly the bed was brutally slammed against her chest, breaking her ribs and driving one of them into her spleen. Again and again the heavy headboard crushed Sophie's body. The brass was hot. The flames licked her nightdress and she heard a crackling sound. She realized her hair had caught fire, and mercifully Sophie slipped into unconsciousness.

Later Sophie's body was dragged away to a secret place. A feasting place.

***

Josh lay face down in the dry and brittle grass. How long he had lain there, he couldn't say. Time seemed to have stopped there on that lonesome hillock. Perhaps it was a moment or two, possibly half an hour. His hands were pressed against his head and he massaged his skull, as if the pressure would somehow alleviate all the horror he had seen. The past weeks blurred together and rushed through his tortured mind like a nonstop nightmare - seeing the strange skull, coming to Chestnut Ridge, meeting the deformed young people, the hideous cave in the coal mine, Avarilla's revelations, Jewell Runion's body, and finally the hideous ravings of Reverend Hooper.

He wanted to scream until his throat was raw and bleeding. But his larynx was tight and constricted, and even his sobs remained pulsating in his chest. Josh sat up and rubbed his temples. The throbbing pain in his head subsided, and he could breathe normally at last.

There
was
an answer to everything which had happened. That answer lay buried beneath the willow tree near Avarilla's house. He stood up.

A red glow and plumes of black smoke were coming from the village. The youngsters must have built a bonfire with the dismantled booths. He heard the nasal twang of a fiddle and the lively plunk-plunk of a banjo. The Saturday night social would be starting soon. Earlier, Avarilla had mentioned that she was taking Sissy with her that night as a special treat for her work on the quilt. Josh made plans to meet Roma there.

But he wasn't going to the social, not now. He began walking the path which would take him to the Thicket and, he hoped, his past.

Avarilla's house was dark and could not give testimony for what it was about to witness. Josh's footsteps were silent as he crossed the yard. When he was halfway between the willow tree and the house the countryside was suddenly lit up by a shard of lightning. The sky moaned, and the previously peaceful clouds began to churn. Josh blinked but did not stop. A violent gust of wind swept the silvery branches of the willow to one side, leaving the thirty-two-year-old gravesite open to the night. Josh froze. Silhouetted against the electric sky, a shovel was jammed into the earth. Waiting for him.

Josh moved toward the shovel. As he touched the handle, thunder blared from the heavens and lightning galvanized the countryside. He raised the shovel and plunged it deep into the earth. A piercing wind shrieked, and its cries were echoed and re-echoed throughout the Thicket.

As the hole grew deeper, the odor of the rich soil became mixed with something else - something long forgotten, long dead.

Josh knelt and looked into the shallow grave. Bits of rotting material were folded around something. It crumbled in his trembling hands and revealed a small skeleton inside. Josh was puzzled. A shadow appeared beside him and stretched across the grave.

"That was Reuben's pup. I told him it ran away."

Josh turned, and looked at Avarilla. The wind blew tendrils of her hair across her face. "Tell me the whole story this time."

She knelt beside him and spoke in a flat, emotionless voice. "I reckon it all began with Kalem Balock. After he moved here, things started changin' in the Ridge. Kalem was as evil as he was handsome. Oh, he could be charmin' as all get-out. An' I was fooled like everyone else. I didn't suspect a thing. None of us did. It was beyond our fancies. Even when our farm animals were found dead, their throats torn, their flesh eaten, we didn't suspect. A pack of wild dogs, we told ourselves. But then outsiders, tourists, began disappearin' an' I knew that an evil force was in our community." Avarilla's voice turned bitter. "Kalem was a ladies' man. He caused every female heart in the Ridge to flutter. He bedded most of them. But that wasn't none of my business." She paused. "Till he turned his attentions on Sissy. Despite her ... affliction, Sissy was real pretty. I warned Kalem to stay away from her. I warned him.

"Sissy got pregnant. I wasn't sure who the father was. But I was still foolish enough to think that Kalem had heeded me. Foolish, foolish old woman. Sissy got bigger an' bigger every day. But I didn't think it was twins. Big babies ran in the family. Her time came early. I was in Jericho Falls attendin' Leoma. Her baby was born dead, an' they were both brokenhearted. They wanted that baby so bad." She glanced up at the turbulent sky. "There was a big storm that night, an' I almost didn't get back to the Ridge. When I got back home I found a note from Jewell. Jewell an' Faye were worried about complications an' had called in Rev'rend Hooper to do some prayin' over her." She laughed bitterly. "A lot of good that did.

"Reuben was only twelve then. He was upset by Sissy's cryin' out. So he took his pup an' went to sleep in the barn." Here she paused and ran her hands over the mound of soil as if drawing strength from the rich earth. "Toward midnight you were born. What a fine-lookin', healthy baby you were, Josh." Her voice began to break. "Then, a short time later, another baby came." Avarilla gasped, unable to keep the horror out of her voice. "An' that baby bore the mark of the beast. It was covered all over with hair, just like an animal. An' it had claws."

Josh looked at Avarilla. Her face, bleached white by the lightning, was unnaturally composed. And he knew that she was telling him the truth.

"The preacher swore Jewell an' Faye to secrecy an' sent them home. He an' I knew what we had to do. He went out to dig the grave, this grave. I took the baby an' laid it on the kitchen table an' went to get a knife. Then - then the baby changed before my very eyes. The hair an' claws disappeared an' he looked just as normal as the other one. How could I kill him? How? He had come from Sissy's body. He was my own flesh an' blood. Tell me, how could I end his life?