Ride the Moon: An Anthology (3 page)

Luke hesitated, then said, “That's what you remember?”

Ben nodded and took another sip of his drink, obviously trying to find a way to end the encounter graciously.

In his mind, Luke tried to reconcile Ben's story with his memories, but gave up and downed the rest of his hot toddy. “Listen, Benjamin, it was great to see you again, but I've got to be at a press conference at eight tomorrow morning. Here's my card. Stay in touch, okay? We shouldn't let another thirty years go by.” Luke tried but failed to keep the insincerity from his voice.

Ben's tone was curt and dismissive: “Absolutely, Tofu. Good night.”

But Luke didn't leave. He sat there, unmoving and silent. Through the tall tinted windows, the Moon had captured his gaze and refused to let go of his imagination.

Rachel woke up, her gasp filling the cave. She reached out, but Max was no longer beside her. Darkness filled the cave; night had fallen.

She grabbed her pants and jumped up, hopping into the first pant leg and negotiating the second with a single hand as she grabbed her shirt and slipped it over her head. She scraped her arm trying to get both boots on at once and she hurled insults at the rock.

“You trying to kill yourself?” Max asked as he strode in with an armful of scraggly birch logs.

“Damn it, Max. Why didn't you wake me?”

“You're pretty when you sleep?”

“It's the new moon. I should be with Jenny!”

“Seriously? She's twelve. Is she that scared of the dark? She can take care of herself.”

“Not tonight she can't,” she mumbled as she pulled her flashlight from her pack and pushed aside the bushes that covered the cave, a hideaway from the eyes and tongues of her minute village.

Max stumbled behind her, her urgency kindling his speed.

She tripped over a root and forced herself to go slower. She wouldn't be of any use to Jenny if she cracked her head open in the thick forest.

She pushed branches and let them swing back, too harried to warn Max, who mumbled behind her. Still, he kept up. The flashlight beam bounced ineffectively before them. Rachel barely remembered to use it to ensure her own path was clear, resulting in her tumbling and falling several times. She pushed on, not brushing the dirt from her jeans or worrying about her scraped knee.

“Would you slow down?” Max cried after her. She answered by going faster, until she had reached her destination. Max stopped short behind her, out of breath.

Jutting out of the ground like a crooked stump, her small house stood silent in the dark landscape of the moonless night, lit by the faraway street light—the only one her village boasted.

She walked through the backyard and through her small garden, knocking some of the precious tomatoes that, once canned, would feed them through the harsh winter months.

Rachel didn't slow, nor did she tell Max to be careful where he stepped. Surviving the winter months hardly seemed to matter, now.

She cracked open the back door. It was unlocked. Jenny always locked it.

She bit her lower lip and stepped in, wishing she had more than a flashlight to fight with. Max followed close, whether to protect her or to be protected by her, she wasn't sure. He was a nice enough lover and had been great company for the two months since he had arrived in her village on a research project, but they'd never had the opportunity to discuss latent fighting abilities.

Hearing his ragged breath behind her, his frame leaner than hers and his arms as thin as sapling branches, she somehow doubted he was an expert boxer in disguise.

“Where's the light switch?” Max whispered beside her, his warm breath making her jump.

“We don't have any. House too old.”

“Jenny?” Rachel called out tentatively. The creak of floorboards under her feet was her only answer. She took a deep breath and rounded the corner, toward their living room that doubled as a shared bedroom. She flashed the beam of light around madly, to illuminate every corner in case something lay in waiting. No flash of eyes greeted the beam. She let her breath out, which turned into a hiss as she took in the state of the room. Their beds were turned aside, and their shared winter blanket, knitted by their grandmother before she had passed and left them all alone, had been ripped.

Rachel knelt beside it and took it in her hands, the wool coarse and thick. She brought it to her cheek and burrowed her face into the scratchy fabric to hide her tears. A hint of vanilla and cinnamon still clung to it, the same as her grandmother's favourite perfume, even though she had been gone for almost five years and the blanket had often been beaten in the river since.

She had promised her grandmother she would always watch over Jenny. That she would never leave her on the dark nights, the moonless nights and that, some day, she would find a way to leave the land of their ancestors, to a safer place.

Far away.

“Should I call the police?” Max asked, his voice thin.

Rachel pulled her face from the blanket, but still rested her cheek on it. “We don't have a phone,” she answered numbly.

She thought of Jenny, trapped and screaming... “And what would they do? Seriously? Would they come over here and save her? They wouldn't! They don't even know how!”

“What do you mean? They're the police! It's their job to stop thugs who steal little girls!”

He paused and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You know who did this, don't you?”

She made a conscious effort to stop biting her lower lip before she pierced her skin with her teeth. Gently, she folded the blanket and laid it on Jenny's bed, cozied up next to hers.

“Rachel? I know you probably think of me as more than useless, studying lichen and all while you're just trying to survive, but...” he paused and looked down. “I really want to help you. And Jenny.” He looked back up. “Won't you please trust me?”

Rachel gave him a thin smile. “Are you good with any weapons?”

To his credit, he pondered the question. “I took fencing in undergrad for a year. ... are we going to beat someone up?”

She shrugged. “Depends. Do you think you can use those moves with a shovel? It's the best I've got.”

He nodded, though she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She grabbed a shovel for him, a rake for herself. Poor weapons, but still the best they had.

He held the shovel awkwardly. “So, um, where are we going?”

“To the edge of town. The bogs. They'll take her there.”

“Who? Why would any one take her there?”

She didn't look at him as she answered. “Frightened people, Max.” People bargaining for safe passage in the bogs. She handed him Jenny's flashlight. Batteries were their one big expense. Light was their lifeline. Her throat closed.

Jenny was out there, somewhere, without any light.

Without any hope.

Jenny cried, but her cries were muffled by the waters. The bogs were thick with dirt and years of slime, and they all slid down her throat as she screamed. She pushed and kicked, her legs heavy under the silt, her nightgown riding up, her struggles cut short by the bogles' tentacles wrapping around her thin waist and pulling her down, pinning her arms.

One large kick and she was up for a moment. For just a moment, and even in the darkness she could see the crawlers all around her, with the legs of centipedes, the tail and pincers of a scorpion and the round body of a spider. Three crawlers moved in, stinging her face and neck.

She felt her body grow cold and numb, and the bogles drew her down and she closed her eyes and mouth against the murky waters. All that she could hear was the sound of rock shifting over her.

The bogs were not far from town, though part of them had been covered by road and houses. They were still there. Rachel could smell them despite the concrete and oil stains.

She stopped near a house, put her hand on Max's chest to stop him short. Wide eyes met hers. “I shouldn't bring you with me. You shouldn't come.”

He looked towards the bogs, starting just past the next yard. All of the lights in the houses were out, even though they had power and it wasn't that late. Rachel suddenly understood who had bargained for their safety.

“You gave me a shovel,” Max snapped. “It seems to me you need my help if you felt the need to give me a shovel.”

She looked up at Max as though seeing him for the first time. He'd strolled into town two months ago, studying lichen in the forest nearby. She liked that about him. He didn't study bogs, so never smelled of them.

She'd seen him as a way out, for her and her sister. A scientist had a future. She had just a few months to win his heart, to ensure that when his research was over and he left town, he would take them with her. Away from all of this.

“I can't let you do this.” She shook her head at the protest forming on his lips.

“Um, shovel?”

“It's too dangerous, Max. You have no idea what you're up against.”

He shrugged. “People who took a little girl. I don't do heroics, Rachel, but that's not right.” He paused. “But, the more I know what to expect, the better off we'll all be.”

She bit her lower lip again before looking up to meet his eyes. “You wouldn't believe me. No one ever does.”

“Well, I believed you enough to grab a shovel and follow you.”

Rachel was surprised to find she could still laugh. She resumed walking towards the bog, slowly, mostly so she could look at the ground before her and not his eyes.

“Generations ago, the moon strolled down to see what dark creatures lurked in the bogs. The night was dark, the creatures attacked, and she was captured. Villagers saved her.” She paused. He said nothing.

“She would come down every month, after that, and wander. Once, she came back her, and met a young man. She fell in love. Bore his children.” She took a deep breath. “We're her descendants. Of the moon. There's nothing special about us, except the creatures of the bog, still intent on claiming revenge, still try to capture us. That's why we hide every dark moon. They can't leave the bogs themselves, but always send someone to find us. Someone terrified.”

Max piped up. “What do these people expect will happen? By bringing Jenny to the bogs?”

“They think their loved ones will be safer, that children and pets will stop getting swallowed by the bogs.”

“I swear, religions and myths should all fall into history. What a useless time waster,” he huffed, and Rachel winced. She knew he wouldn't believe her, but it still hurt to have him cast aside generations of fear as though they were fuelled only by make-believe.

She couldn't bring him along. He would be dead before he realized that darkness held more monsters than they could fight.

She gave him a wry smile. “I've been using you,” she said, louder than she'd meant to. He flinched a bit, and her pulse quickened.

“I thought you could get me and Jenny out of this town. So I've been trying to win you.”

Her face was flushed, but she forced herself to keep looking at him.

“I'm sorry. I thought you should know if you're about to go in there to help me. It's dangerous.”

He shrugged again. “Rachel, you're honestly great fun, but I can't say I haven't been using you, too. I mean, you're great on a cavern floor.” It was her turn to flinch. “But, that being said, I can't pretend I don't care about you and your sister. You're at least good friends, though don't expect a marriage proposal by the time my research is over next month.”

She lowered her head. She needed to focus on the here and now, and that was Jenny.

“Fine,” she said curtly before continuing to walk towards the bog.

“You've been reading too many fairy tales, Rachel. Been stuck in a small place with small ideas for too long.” He grew silent as he followed her, crouching as she crouched.

The flashlight shook slightly in her hand as it struck the edge of the bog. Hundreds of yellow eyes peered at her before scuttling out of the beam.

“What was that?” Max was suddenly closer to her.

“Turn on your flashlight. Stay close. Use that shovel on anything with red or yellow eyes.”

Her beam illuminated patched of bog at a time, revealing nothing else. Max's soon joined hers. She cocked her head, listening closely.

She had seen the creatures that lurked here only once when, a foolish child, she had disobeyed her grandmother and wandered here. She shuddered, remembering the fear as they'd dragged her down... her grandmother had found her quickly enough, fighting against the creatures, pulling her up and holding her close.

The moon had not come to save her. She'd asked her grandmother why the moon had not come. She had looked up to her grandmother as the light painted every crease of her face, especially the hard bend of her mouth. She had never known her grandmother not to smile. “Because the moon has better things to do than worry about her disobedient descendants.” Rachel had never spoken of the night again, but she had always understood that staying away from the bog was imperative, especially on moonless nights, when the creatures stirred and dared breach into their world.

Rachel took a breath and stepped onto the small path that led into the depths of the bogs. The ground sucked down her feet and she almost lost a runner a couple of times. The sucking noises behind her indicated that Max still followed her. She wanted to scream at him to run away, to hide, remembering the clutch of the bogles.

Her breath came in short spasms and her grip on the rake became sleek with sweat.

“Jenny?” she whispered. The bogs were still, so still it made her skin crawl. No reed rustled, no bug scampered on the water, no frog called in the night. The air smothered her lungs with humidity, despite the chill of the night air.

She couldn't even see any bogles or crawlers.

“Jenny!” she cried this time, a sob breaking the name. Was it too late? Was she already down below?