There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (77 page)

That, ladies & germs, had been the worst.

He’d fled the madness, not once looking back to see if the red eyed cunt had been chasing him. He didn’t think he could abide one more glance into those blood red orbs again. Not without losing what was left of his mind…

                           
*******

Henderson gave one last glance around his small apartment. Thirteen years and all he had to show for it were the dirty clothes in his duffel bag and the even dirtier bankbook in his back pocket. A look of regret passed over his seamed face as he recalled the anonymous tip he’d received just that morning. A phone call he’d identified as coming from the Noonans’ trailer…

              Although it didn’t sound like it belonged to any Noonan he’d ever known, the caller informed Henderson, in a creepy, croaking,
and all-knowing
voice
, of the exact location of Bud Brown’s hideout in the Pines. The caller claimed it was full of stolen contraband.

            
 
And a yummy surprise..
.

             
Whatever the hell that meant!

             
Rupert sighed, wishing that his last duty as acting Sheriff could have been the arrest of that big sonofawhore.

             
“Well, he’s someone else’s problem now.”

Rupert locked his apartment door and rushed down into the office below. He said a prayer for the first time since he was a little boy and had still believed in God.

Maybe that little boy was onto something
, he thought, looking skyward. Now that he knew real Evil existed, then maybe real Goodness existed, too. He prayed that he might avoid the nightmare that had befallen Moon. That he'd find a boat still tied off in the harbor.

Otherwise, he would have to barricade himself in one of the jail cells. Stock it with enough canned goods and bullets to wait out the maelstrom…

Rupert’s skin broke out into wild goosebumps. Somewhere, outside in the street below, something howled maniacally into the rising wind. Coming his way…

             
                           
*******

Moon Island was now hell on earth. And it had nothing to do with the hurricane, either. This irony was of course lost on its fleeing inhabitants. The same held true for those who’d decided to stay and ride out the storm. By the time the last of the fishermen and shrimpers had cast off from the harbor (including the good folks on board the
Betty Anne
), more than a quarter of Moon Island’s population had been infected with the RS13 strain.

             
Worse still, Moon Island’s problems were no longer her own. More than a few of those fleeing in the fleet of working boats were also infected.

             
The unsuspecting mainland was their destination.

             
The worse was yet to come…

       There’s Blood On the Moon Tonight

             
    
 
Book Two

“Demons are like obedient dogs. They come when they are called.”  
Remy de Gourmont

“I am the devil! And I am here to do the Devil’s business!”

           Tex Watson. Manson family member.

             
             
Chapter Fourtee
n
:

             
            
 
This Fever Called Life

Josie watched the island of Moon grow smaller on the cloud-stacked horizon. Bud was beside her on the stern, his strong arm about her shoulders, not saying a word, just being there for her. She had asked her Uncle Ham to go to Beaufort first, so she could retrieve her brother, and as much as he wanted to do just that, the seas had become too rough across the wide divide called Moon River.

             
Hurricane Jack had picked up speed and was barreling towards them like a pissed off pimp.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” he’d told her, “but as it is, we might not make it to safe waters before Jack catches up with us. We got to head north, with the pedal to the metal.”

A weight had slowly settled on Josie’s heart ever since she’d found the note in her kitchen. The more she thought about it, the more she felt Shayna hadn’t written the damned thing. She tried telling herself that was silly; of course, Shayna had written it!
If not her, then who?

Behind her and Bud, on the starboard side, Mr. Tolson puked his guts out over the rail. Another meaty splash immediately followed—this one belonging to his poor wife. He and Emma, landlubbers to the core, were already seasick. Tubby, on the other hand, seemed to have been born with sea legs. He was up in the wheelhouse with Mr. Huggins, enjoying the roller coaster ride.

Meanwhile, Rusty and his mother were playing gin rummy in the galley below. This sort of thing had lost its novelty to them a long time ago.

Josie and Bud were outside wearing rain slickers. The driving rain pattering against her hood made Josie feel sleepy. She laid her head on Bud’s broad chest. Moon Island was just an inkblot on the horizon now.

Going…going…
gone
.

             
              *******

             
             
Wednesday, October 13
th
, 2,004

Ham Huggins checked his watch. It was just after six a.m. and the seas, wind, and rain had finally calmed. The
Betty Anne
had successfully slipped beyond the outer bands of Hurricane Jack. He allowed himself to relax. The adrenaline, which had kept him focused and going, left him at once, and he felt tired enough to collapse. Jack had damn near caught him with his pants down! No harm done, though. Everything had turned out all right. The main thrust of the hurricane, which had weakened somewhat, was now turning straight for Moon, and Beaufort behind her.

             
Ham shuddered to think what would have happened had the storm turned north with the
Betty Anne,
rather than drifting east. He yawned and wondered if he dare lay anchor, or continue on to a dock in Wilmington as he’d originally planned. It wouldn’t be a question at all if he weren’t so doggone tired! He’d been at the wheel for fifteen hours straight and he was beat.

             
He yawned again and shook his head violently.

             
Mercy! I’m getting too old for this—

“Oooo! Is my baby getting tired?”

“Betty Anne! You scared me half to death!” He had his hand on his chest, willing his laboring heart to slow down. “If you’d a been a snake you’d a bitten me!”

Betty Anne handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “Thank you, darling. I could sure use some of your jolting java about now. Everybody still asleep below?”

She watched him blow on the steaming mug before answering. “Frank and Emma are. They gave out a little while ago. After their stomachs finally settled down. The kids are eating breakfast, eager to stretch their legs on dry land. Are you tense, baby doll?”

Ham rolled his head on his shoulders. “You know it, sugar. The back of my neck feels like a knot of…”

He didn’t get the rest out. The sensation of his fly being pulled down shocked him into silence. He looked down to see Betty Anne on her knees in that pretty red sundress of hers. By the looks of it, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She looked up at him and licked her lips.

She got his zipper down and stuck her hand into the open fly of his Dickies.

“
MMmmmm
. Speaking of snakes....”

             
            *******

“When do you think we’ll head back?” Bud asked Rusty, over a bowl full of Wheaties.

The four of them sat huddled around the small galley table. Josie had on the bikini she’d bought in Beaufort, underneath her blue-jean short-shorts—what Shayna called her Daisy Dukes—and one of her dad’s old dress shirts. All three boys were wearing baggy swim trunks. Josie’s ridiculously huge beach bag sat on the floor between her feet. She was wearing green flip-flops, to go along with her toenail polish, and the two-piece bathing suit she’d purchased in Beaufort.

Rusty was digging around in a box of Captain Crunch for the toy submarine inside. “We haven’t even docked yet, Buddy boy. You worried about your old man?”

Josie looked up guiltily from her bowl of Fruit Loops. She’d been so worried about Joel that she’d forgotten Bilbo was still on Moon, all by his lonesome.

“Not really,” Bud shrugged. He carried his bowl to the sink and washed it. “Pop can take care of himself. It’s the museum that really concerns me. That storm surge could wash all our hard work right down the sewer drains.”

“Gee, you think it’s going to be that bad?” Tubby asked them. He was hoping his friends couldn’t hear his stomach gurgling. He hadn’t eaten a thing since his breakfast with Josie, the day before at Peg Leg’s. He’d halted his caloric intake ever since learning of their planned trip to McDonald’s. It had been a long time since he’d had a Big Mac, and he planned on having two. He avoided eye contact with the box of Captain Crunch; it was his favorite cereal—even if Rusty Huggins had his skinny arm buried halfway into the darn box.

“Not as bad as it could’ve been,” Rusty said, giving up the hunt. “Bud and I were up in the wheelhouse last night when the news came over the short wave. Jack’s been downgraded to a category three. It could still re-strengthen to a weak
four before landfall, but no more than that.”

“Best of all, Jack is moving so fast now, the worst of it will pass over Moon by eight, nine o’clock tonight.” Bud sat back in his chair, his hand gently squeezing Josie’s bare knee underneath the table. Josie looked over at him and smiled. She wondered what her dad would’ve made of this big, tenderhearted boyo of hers.

Rusty wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smacking his lips. “That’s right, boys and girls. This time tomorrow, Jack’ll be history—at least in Beaufort County.”

“So we could actually head back in a little while?” Josie said, stifling a yawn. She and Bud had spent a restless night together on the floor of the bunk area. 

              “Pop’s got to sleep sometime too, you know.

“Aw, jeez alou. That’s right! What was I thinking? He must be exhausted after being at the wheel for so long.”

“I imagine so, Red. Mom took him up a cup of coffee, so he should be good to go until we reach the docks in Wilmington. He’ll catch some Z’s before we head back tonight. Pop wants to have the engine checked over and have all his spare gas cans topped off before we leave. You know, in case the hurricane puts the marina back home out of commission for a while. After a late supper tonight, we’ll shove off around ten o’clock.”

Josie tried to hide her impatience. “Why so late, Gnat?” She was anxious to get back to her little brother. They’d never been apart this long before.

Rusty sympathized with his friend. They all did. “Pop doesn’t like to push the engines too hard, Joe. As it is, he’s heading back several hours earlier than usual.”

“How do you mean?” Tubby asked.

“Twenty-four hours, Opie. After this long a journey, my dad usually lets the
Betty Anne’
s engines get a full days rest. He’s making an exception this time.”