Moondeath Page 8

  “Yoo-hoo. Frank,” his mother called from the porch. He straightened up and came around the side of the barn.

  “Both Granger and Seavey said they’d be here as soon as they could.”

  “Good.” He looked at her, then back at the barn. When he turned, he saw a dark shape moving along the side of the barn. Frank snapped the rifle to his shoulder, but before he fired, he saw that the shape was human. He lowered the rifle and snapped on the safety catch.

  “Ned!” he shouted, once he recognized the person. “What the hell are you doing out here? I thought you were still in bed.” He shined the flashlight into his brother’s eyes as he came closer to him. Ned squinted and turned his head away.

  “Christ! Do you know that I almost blew your fuckin’ head off?”

  Ned shook his head and stood still, about five feet from his brother. “No, no, I, I wasn’t…”

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, kid?” Frank asked. He played his light over his brother and saw that his clothes were mud-stained and torn; dead leaves and twigs hung from his shoulder.

  Frank stepped up next to his brother and grabbed him by the chin. He twisted his head up to the light, and Ned tried to turn away.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m, I’m OK.”

  “Jesus! It looks like you cut your head on something,” he said, when he saw that Ned’s hair was matted down with caked blood. “You bang you head on something?”

  “I, ummm, I guess I did,” Ned said, wincing as he brought his hand up to the wound. “I must have fallen or something when I was running.”

  “Did you see it? Did you see that wild dog?” Frank asked anxiously.

  Ned cast a fleeting glance at his brother, but had to turn away because the light from the flashlight hit his eyes painfully. “Yeah, I guess I saw something and I guess I, I went after it.”

  “Without a gun? Are you crazy?” Frank shouted. “That animal’s a killer. You can’t go chasing after it without a gun.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Ned said. “I—It got away pretty fast.” Ned looked at his brother dazedly, then, suddenly, he almost folded up and fell onto the ground. Frank grabbed him and caught him before he hit the ground.

  “You look pretty beat, kid. You better go on inside.”

  “Yeah,” Ned said hollowly, “I am pretty tired.”

  “You feel pretty cold,” Frank said. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Ned’s eyes looked dark, sunken in to his brow.

  Ned nodded and started walking slowly toward the house.

  Frank watched his brother walk away, and he noticed that he kept his legs locked stiffly so he wouldn’t wobble. He took the steps carefully, one by one, and then entered the house. The sun was just rising, tinting the eastern sky a light blue.

  Chapter Five

  .I.

  Saturday, October 18

  A lot happened in a few seconds.

  Ned was carrying a load of frozen-food cartons to the walk-in freezer. His grocer’s apron offered little protection against the cold. His fingers were getting numb in the joints.

  He twisted his body to the side and jabbed at the button for the freezer light. He missed, and the nearly off-balance load of frozen food almost tumbled. He tried again, and this time there was a soft click. A small red light went on, indicating that the lights were on in the freezer as well.

  He reached out blindly, until he felt the door bar, grabbed it, and pulled. The door swung open heavily, and Ned, grunting loudly, kicked it open. When he turned to enter, he heard a scuffing sound behind him.

  A fist, maybe a foot, struck him in the small of the back, propelling him forward. The stack of frozen food he was carrying flew into the air and hit the freezer floor with a clatter. Automatically, he put his hands out in front of him to break his fall. As he hit the floor, the heavy metal door slammed shut, and the lights overhead winked out.

  For a moment, stunned and confused, he sat on the cold floor, rubbing his wrist. He had held it too stiffly, and it hurt like hell. If it wasn’t broken, he thought, it was at least sprained. Then, as he pieced together what had happened, he started to panic. He was alone in the darkness and cold, hurt. He took a deep gulp of frozen air into his lungs. It burned.

  He sat silently in the darkness, trying to master his rising panic. The thick darkness began to flicker, as his eyes adjusted. Then, for a moment, he wondered if his eyes were open at all. Maybe he had hit his head and had gone bind. He fought back the scream so it emerged as no more than a whimper. He scrambled over to the door and was relieved to see a thin line of light at the bottom of the door. At least he was not blind.

  “OK,” he called out, a whine in this voice. “You can open the door now.”

  From outside he heard a ripple of laughter and then a faint click. He knew that that click had been the door lock.

  The darkness wrapped itself closer, like a deadly blanket.

  Cold and death!

  I’m hurt! I could die in here! he thought.

  His hands reached for the door. He balled up his fist and brought it down against the unyielding metal door.

  “Come on, open the door,” he said weakly.

  Again, his fist hit the door, harder. He didn’t even notice that he was using the hand he had hurt. He beat the door viciously.

  “Open the fucking door! Right now, goddammit!”

  There was a faint rattling sound from outside. “Aww, jeeze. I think it’s stuck,” a muffled voice said.

  “Come on!” he shouted, giving the door another solid hit. He stood back and rubbed his shoulders to keep warm. “Come on, I’m freezing in here,” he said, softer. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying out.

  I could die in here! his mind screamed.

  A wild shiver wracked his body, and he leaned forward, pressing his full weight against the door. “Will you open the door? Please?” he said, trying to keep the panic from registering in his voice.

  Tears ran down his face and froze. His teeth chattered, and he kept rubbing his arms for warmth.

  There was another click outside, and then a voice said, “Jeeze, it really is stuck.” This time Ned recognized Alan Tate’s voice.

  Ned dug in with his heels and pushed hard against the door. Then, with a loud snap, the door swung open. Ned fell forward, landing on the floor in a crumpled heap. Slowly, fighting back the pain and fear, he stood up. His body was still and cramped. He squinted from the sudden brightness of the lights. Through his watery vision, he scanned the semicircle of people who stood there watching him.

  “Real funny,” he whispered angrily. “Real funny.” He stood there unconsciously rubbing his hurt wrist. He knew that they could tell he had been crying, and that galled him all the more. Besides Alan, there were Louie, Jack, and Ralph.

  “You all right?” Alan Tate said, stepping forward and trying to put his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Honest, the door got stuck. Just ask Louie.”

  Ned looked at Louie, who merely shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said with his thick French accent. “I did not see what happened.”

  “We were trying to get you out,” Ralph said, but his faint smile gave him away.

  Ned’s anger burned. A curse was forming on his mouth but remained unspoken because, just then, Dick Pomeroy walked into the back room.

  “Hey, what the hell are you guys doing back here?” he shouted. “There’re cases of frozen food getting warm out there. Plenty of stock to put away.” He halted and then looked at everyone in turn. His eyes finally rested on Ned, whose teeth were still chattering.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he said again.

  Louie wiped his hands on his blood-stained butcher’s apron and headed back into the meat-cutting room without a word. Jack and Ralph took nervous steps backward but seemed afraid to leave. Alan stood his ground.

  “Had a little trouble with the freezer door,” Alan said, sounding truthful and sincere.

  “Well,” Pomeroy
said, “the girls could use a little bit of help up front, and there’s a lot of stock still to be put away.”

  Everyone made a move to scatter, glad that they hadn’t been caught in their practical joke. As Ned walked past Pomeroy, the store manager grabbed him by the arm. “Just a second, Ned.”

  Ned looked at the man with fear-widened eyes.

  “Granger’s up front of the store. Wants to talk to you,” Pomeroy said.

  Ned saw that Alan was listening at the door, and when he heard this, his face broke out into a wide grin.

  “You aren’t in any trouble, are you?” Pomeroy asked seriously.

  Ned shook his head and made to leave, but Pomeroy still held him. “One more thing, Ned. I’ve really had quite enough of this horsing around in the back room. We’re here to work, not have fun.”

  “Yeah,” Ned replied. “It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t,” Pomeroy said, as he headed for the bathroom. “And don’t keep Granger waiting all day.”

  As Ned walked up the aisle to the front of the store, his mouth carefully formed the word “Bastards!”

  .II.

  “So, how’s everything going?” Granger asked. His smile reminded Ned of Alan Tate’s innocent, stupid grin. Ned glanced outside and saw that it was still raining and that it was dark. He felt a bit anxious because he knew he had a lot of work to do before closing time.

  “Pretty good, I guess,” Ned replied. He was unconsciously rubbing his injured wrist.

  Granger cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. I’ve been going over what you said to me after that night your family calf was killed by that, that wild dog, or whatever. I was wondering if—”

  “I told you everything I remember,” Ned said curtly. “We’ve been all over it.”

  “I know. I know,” Granger said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “But, uhh, you said you were a little confused that night, that you fell and hit your head and your memory might’ve been a little scrambled up. I just wanted to get everything straight.”

  “Sure. OK.” Ned looked at Granger and then down at the puddle of rainwater that had formed at his feet from his dripping rain-slicker.

  Granger rubbed his cheek and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

  “Well, for one thing, your brother said that when he checked out back of the barn, by the broken window, that he saw some tracks there, what he figured were the animal’s tracks.”

  Ned grunted.

  “And then, once I got out to your place, oh, about six o’clock, I didn’t see a damn thing underneath the window. It looked like the whole thing had been smoothed over. Not a track to be found.”

  Ned shrugged. “Maybe Frank was wrong,” he said. “Maybe it looked like tracks with just a, just a flashlight, but wasn’t really.”

  “But you don’t know anything about those tracks?” Granger asked. His voice had an edge of accusation. “You didn’t see them?”

  Ned shook his head.

  “Hmm. Well, Frank says that he first saw you walking out from behind the barn. I thought…”

  “I didn’t see them, those tracks, I mean.”

  “But you did see that dog, right?” Granger pressed.

  Ned nodded.

  “You say it was a German Shepherd, a big German Shepherd?”

  “That’s right,” Ned replied with exasperation. “I told you all of this before.”

  Granger ignored Ned’s last remark and pressed on. “And you didn’t see or hear any other dogs, right? Nothing to indicate that there might have been a pack of ’em out there.”

  Again, Ned shook his head. He peered up to the end of the aisle where they were standing, expecting to see Alan Tate watching them and enjoying his discomfort. Alan wasn’t there.

  “Well, one thing’s for damn sure. You were lucky you didn’t run into that animal, if you went chasing after him without a gun.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Ned answered. “Like I said, I wasn’t thinking too good.”

  “You see,” Granger said, suddenly softening, his interrogation ended, “Jeff Carter was out on the old mine road that night. He failed to mention why. I don’t think it was because he was out hunting with Seavey and the others. I’ve got a feeling he was out visiting Martin’s Lake, but that’s none of our business.

  “Anyway, he says he heard something thrashing through the woods, so he hunkered down behind a bush, and he says he saw a full-grown timber wolf run right by him. Not more than ten feet from him, he says.”

  Ned tried to look Granger in the eyes but found that he couldn’t

  “Course,” Granger went on, “Jeff Carter isn’t the most reliable witness in the world. He was probably, hell, I know, he was drunker’an a skunk. It could have been a cocker spaniel for all I know. But I tell you, you were damn lucky you didn’t meet up with that animal, no matter what it was.”

  Just then the lights in the store flickered overhead, and Pomeroy’s voice boomed over the P.A. system. “The I.G.A will close in ten minutes. Please go to the registers now. We thank you for shopping at the I.G.A.”

  “Now I don’t want you to get all worked up about this,” Granger said kindly. “Seavey’s got enough people worked up as it is. But I do want you to know that we might have a serious problem here. And I would recommend that you not go out into the woods at night, not without a gun.”

  .III.

  “But you didn’t see anything,” Lisa said, wide-eyed. “You just heard it?”

  Bob nodded as he continued to work on the cold-duck bottle cork. Suddenly, with a bang, the cork shot from the bottle, ricocheted off the ceiling, and then spun in a wide semicircle and disappeared under the refrigerator.

  “Well,” Bob said, smiling, “we’ll just have to drink the whole thing. He poured two glasses of wine, handed one to Lisa, and then took a noisy swallow from the other.

  “No,” Bob said, placing the glass back down, “I didn’t see anything. Correction. I didn’t see the dog. I did see something.”

  “What?” Lisa asked, leaning forward, her face expressing fear and wonder.

  “I’ll get to that in a second. You remember you let me off at the end of the driveway, right? Well, I stood there for a while, watching your car drive off. I waited until I couldn’t hear the car and then started up toward the cabin. I was about halfway up the path when I heard this low moaning, real hollow.” Bob tried to imitate the sound heard.

  “That sounds like a dog that’s been hit by a car,” Lisa said with a laugh.

  “Well, it didn’t that night, let me tell you. At first, I thought it was a dog howling far away, you know? Like I couldn’t get a fix on it. I just kept walking up the path. It had me a little bit spooked, but…” Bob shrugged.

  “Did this really happen, or are you just making it up to scare me?” Lisa asked. Bob could tell by her expression that she was getting drawn into the story.

  “Honest, it happened. I was almost up to the house, right up on the rise where you can look down on the pond. The sound came again, but this time I was sure it was pretty close. I kind of panicked, but I looked around for where it might have been coming from. Suddenly”—Bob jumped and grabbed Lisa’s arm. She let out a scream—“The bushes on the side of the road started rustling. I just about died! I started toward the house at a pretty good pace, and I was almost there when this animal burst out of the brush and ran right in front of me.”

  Lisa looked almost as scared as Bob had felt that night. “I thought you said you didn’t see it?”

  “Ohh, it wasn’t that wild dog everyone’s been talking about. It was a rabbit, I think, or maybe a white cat. I couldn’t tell for sure, it was pretty dark and my nerves were on edge. The animal ran in front of me and went down toward the pond.” Bob lifted his hands into the air and concluded, “And that was it. It was gone.”

  He walked over to the stove and opened the oven door. Peering inside, he said, “It’s just about ready. Are you hungry?”


  Lisa smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know, after that story.”

  “Aw,” Bob said, as he pulled the lasagna out of the oven and placed it on the counter, “it was nothing.”

  .IV.

  The dishes were washed and put away. A fire burned low in the fireplace, evenly and warm. The stereo had clicked off almost an hour ago. Lisa was sitting cross-legged on one of the couch cushions on the floor. Bob was lying on his side, his head supported by his hand. The empty bottle of cold duck stood on the hearth, catching the flickering flames.

  “I ought to be getting back home,” Lisa said, glancing at her watch. “I told Jeff that the conference would be over by nine o’clock and that I’d be home by ten.”

  “How ’bout a cup of coffee first,” Bob said, rolling over and slowly rising. He stood up, close to Lisa, and let his fingers twine gently through her hair. She looked blankly at the fire.

  “Yeah. I suppose I can be a little late,” she said.

  “You don’t really think he’s going to be home waiting for you, do you?”

  Lisa sighed. Bob went into the kitchen and filled the tea kettle with water. He put in a lot of water so it would take a long time to heat. He came back over to Lisa and sat down beside her. For a long time, he watched the flames reflected in her eyes.

  “And what would the fine folk of Cooper Falls think if they knew their head librarian was here, sitting in front of a romantic fire with”—he paused for effect—“another man!”

  Lisa’s smile was twisted. “Come on, Bob.”

  “Well, have you thought any more about it?” Bob asked earnestly. “It’s not like you don’t have any grounds for divorce, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ve thought about it,” Lisa answered faintly. “Probably too much.”

  “And?”