There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (27 page)

                          
 
Chapter Nin
e
:

             
            
 
Waxing Nostalgic

Back at the lake, standing atop the tumbledown, Bud and Josie waited for the arrival of the Moon Island Volunteer Fire department. Bud had set the fire thirty-eight minutes ago, but they’d yet to hear any indication of anyone fighting the blaze. With a fretful heart he watched the thin column of smoke grow to that of a hundred-foot long black cloud over the treeline. “Where the hell are they?” he said, checking his watch again

             
Despite the fact most of the kerosene had soaked into the ground, the fire had spread quickly. With a
Whhhooossshhh!!!
the sterilizing flames engulfed the diseased animal and the surrounding tender, jumping Bud’s firebreak with no trouble at all. He and Josie had exchanged startled looks and then turned tail for Lizard Lake, where they’d been waiting ever since.

             
“Maybe something’s happened to—”

             
“
Shhh
!” Bud hissed. “Did you hear that?”

             
Josie cocked her head. Except for the distant crackle of flames, she couldn’t hear a thing. Then, so far off she doubted her own ears, she heard the faintest echo of men’s raised voices. The “clink clank” of fire fighting equipment.

             
“Oh, good,” she said, releasing the breath she’d been holding onto ever since Bud flicked his lit cigarette into the dog’s yawning abdomen, starting the fire from that gruesome destination. “C’mon Buddy boy, let’s get our shiny hienies underground.”

             
“You go ahead, Joe. I just want to make sure.” 

             
The worried look on Bud’s rugged face held her nagging tongue. She reached over and took his hand in hers. “I’ll wait with you,” she whispered in his ear.

             
Bud’s eyes widened as Josie’s warm breath filled the hollows of his ear. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d grabbed him by the balls. He blinked, looking down at their coupled hands in wonder.

             
                            *******

Since the closest place to school was Moon Man’s, Rusty and Tubby hightailed it over there after making the 911. If need be, they could dive for cover in the roadside bushes. Fortunately for them the Moon Island Fire department, located by the harbor, responded slower than anticipated.

              He and Tubby were already slipping into the comic book store when the fire truck sped by, clanging up the dusty dirt road. Followed by the island’s one and only patrol car, its siren warbling woefully.

             
Rusty didn’t see who was behind the wheel but he knew it had to be Sheriff Rupert Henderson. The old man always worked the ten to seven shift, Tuesday through Saturday. Part time deputies filled in the rest of the hours.

             
Oddly enough, Moon Man’s was deserted, Garfield, nowhere in sight. Since it was such a nice day, Rusty said the kids were probably hanging out at the Circle Jerk.

             
“You think the sheriff saw us?” Tubby panted. Never in his life had he covered so many miles in one day; feared for his life one minute; felt such exhilaration the next! It was like a real-life Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride! He wondered if every day with th
e
Creep
s
was going to be like this. If so, he couldn’t wait to see what would happen tomorrow. He had his hands on his knees, sucking air like a stopped up vacuum cleaner, while Rusty was barely breathing hard at all. The chilly A/C felt good on Ralph’s hot scalp and sweaty neck.

             
“I don’t think so,” Rusty said, peering out the window. “Even if he did, so what? We’re just two nerdlingers going into the local comic book store. Ain’t nothin’ peculiar about that!” He set his backpack next to the door, but held onto Bud’s.

             
“Yeah. I guess so. Why didn’t we stay out back behind the school, though? Waited until it was all clear?”

             
“Because Rupert’ll be sure to check out the origination of the 911 call, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near that damn payphone when he did.”

             
Impressed, Tubby nodded his head. Now he understood why Bud and Josie valued Gnat’s opinions so. Rusty had a sharp mind. He handed over Joe’s backpack.

             
“
Yeeesss
,”
hissed a voice, snakelike behind them.

             
Tubby and Rusty screamed in unison.

             
Gratified at their reactions, Tim Garfield chuckled sinisterly. “My, my! You boys are all in lather, aren’t you?”

             
“Huh?” Tubby clutched at his pounding chest, hoping he was too young to have a heart attack.

             
“Garfield, you scared us, man!” Rusty said, laughing a little. “And cool it with that Mr. Burns chuckle, will ya? You’ll have Tubby thinking you’re some sort of evil genius.” He lifted up his friends’ backpacks. “You mind if we leave Bud and Josie’s stuff behind your counter? They’ll be by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.”

             
Garfield rubbed his hands together.
“
Excellent
,”
he said, still doing the Monty Burns bit. He collected the bags from Rusty and stowed them underneath his old-timey cash register. The hulking kind with a crank on the side.

             
Over the years, Moon Man’s had become a gathering place for the island’s youth. Tim Garfield knew every kid on Moon, their likes, dislikes, whether or not he could extend credit to them, and whether or not he could turn his back on them. He was a harmless eccentric, liked by most, tolerated by the rest. And he fit right in with Moon’s eclectic mix of year-round residents.

            
 
The
Creep
s
loved him like one of their own. He and Bill Brown were the only adults on the island who didn’t judge them for their obsession. Why should they? Their obsession was
their
business
!

             
Tubby had never spoken to the owner of Moon Man’s before, even though the geeky, thirty-something man had always greeted him by name whenever he entered the store. How Tim Garfield even knew his name was one of the things that creeped Tubby out about the guy. The other was the strange voice Garfield always spoke in—a Hannibal Lecter, Frazier Crane kind of deal. And like the whole Mr. Burns routine an obviously phony affectation.

             
Tim’s T-shirt shed some light on the mystery. On it was a picture of baby Stewie, from the TV show
Family Guy
, pointing a ray gun and declaring:
Victory is Mine!

             
Tubby had only seen the show a couple of times (his mother disapproved of the potty language), but once he’d made the connection, there was no mistaking Stewie’s haughty tone. He glanced over at Rusty, rummaging through
Garfield's
Pick’s of the Week!
comic bin.

             
Gnat seemed completely at ease in the owner’s presence, and that was all the approval Tubby needed.

             
“What the deuce is going on out there?” Garfield asked them. He was standing outside the door, trying to see what all the fuss was up the road, prissily waving his hand in front of his nose. “Oh, dear! Is that smoke I smell?”

             
“Yeah, we smelled it, too.” Rusty gave Tubby a wink to play it cool. “I think the school might be on fire.”

             
“The
devil
you say!” Garfield seemed thrilled at the possibility. “Oh, it’s probably just the Noonans’ cooking up some roadkill for supper.”

             
“Uh-Mister uh, Moon Man, sir?” Tubby scratched his head, trying to recall what Rusty had just called the owner. “Could I use your telephone, sir?”

             
“My telephone? Of course you can, Ralph. It’s right over there on the counter. And call me Garfield—like the flabby tabby? Everyone does!” He stepped outside and waved at the boys as he ran past the window. “Ta! Ta!”  

             
To Tubby’s bewilderment, Garfield had left the two of them alone in his shop.
“Hey Rusty,”
he whispered, afraid of being overheard, even if they were by themselves.

“Yeah?”

“Um…is that fellow, you know, is he…
gay
?”

“Gay as Gomer Pyle,” Rusty yawned. He shoved his glasses up on his nose, and went back to rifling through the second hand comic books.

Tubby scratched his head again. What a weird way of answering his question, as indelicate as it may have been. Of course Gomer wasn’t gay! He was a Marine, and he sometimes dated that ditzy blonde singer who was tone deaf. Not that it really mattered; he’d just never known anyone personally who was homosexual—although he’d surely been accused enough of that predilection over the years. He went over to the counter and lifted the receiver from the orange paw of Garfield’s
Garfield
phone.

The fat cat said something about lasagna that Tubby missed. He punched in his telephone number and took a deep breath. His mother answered right away.
“Hello?”

Tubby could picture her hovering over the phone, willing it to ring. “Ralphie?” she queried timidly. Tubby’s heart sank, knowing he’d put his mom through the ringer.

             
“Hey Mom!” he said cheerily, to offset her distress. He spilled it out just like Rusty said, not giving her a chance to get a word in edgewise. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I made some friends today at school and just lost track of time…. Where am I?” he said, repeating his mother’s question. He looked over at Rusty.

Rusty whispered:
“With me, you dumbass!”

“I’m with me, you dum—
No
! Um, that is to say…I mean…I’m
with
Rusty Huggins? You know…the son of Mr. Ham? We’re just hanging out at Moon Man’s.”

Hearing Tubby almost call his mother a dumbass, Rusty burst out laughing.

“I don’t need an afternoon snack,” said Tubby, blushing. “Yes, I know I missed
Andy Griffith
, Mom. It comes on every day…. Dinner? Um, I don’t know. Let me ask him.” Tubby held the phone against his chest. “Rusty, would you like to have dinner with us?”

             
Rusty looked up from the pile of comics he’d selected from the bin. There were some real good ones this week. “Depends, Opie. What’s on the menu?”

Tubby’s forehead furrowed. “Uh, let’s see, it’s Friday, so that means Sloppy Joes, corn on the cob, and mom’s homemade potato chips.”

“Really?
Homemade
potato chips? Dude, I’m
so
there! My mother always makes Hungarian Goulash on Fridays.” Rusty shivered in disgust. “Nasty stuff, that goulash. Man
,
I wouldn’t feed that shit to my worst enemy—and yet my mom feeds it to
me
every week.”

Mollified by the news that there’d be a guest for dinner, Emma hung up to see to the preparations. Tubby continued to smile like an idiot as he waddled over to Rusty’s side. Not once had he ever had a friend over for dinner and he was having some trouble playing it cool.

             
Rusty looked up to see Tubby grinning hugely at him. “What? Is my fly open? Got something green hanging out my nose? What’s with the dumb look, Opie?”

Thumbing through the comics, Tubby just shrugged. “As a Beatle named Ringo once said, ‘I can’t help it, mate. It’s just me face.’”

                            *******

As soon as Bud saw the high-powered-water hosing down the tall flames over the treeline, he gestured to Josie it was time to get lost. They slid down into the Bunker. Bud was angry with himself for letting his friends talk him into pulling such an irresponsible stunt. He couldn’t believe he’d set his woods on fire, and on top of that had put at risk the lives of the men fighting it! What if another emergency—this one real, not manufactured—occurred while the fire department was fighting
his
stupid fire?