There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (120 page)

“Didn’t cover much ground,” she said, shrugging.

              “I don’t think it’ll take much fire to scatter those things. Besides, the flames will spread. The Rabids keep their distance from it. They hate fire even more than natural sunlight. Maybe it’ll give us enough time to get underground unseen.” Bud paused, staring at Josie and Rusty. “It is
imperative
the Rabids don’t find out where our Bunker is. At least until we can close the door down there.”

Josie shuddered at the look on Bud’s face just then. Rusty took it a whole different way. “Fuck a duck! I hadn’t thought about that! That would suck, man! I’d hate to be down in that rat hole for a whole month with those retards knocking on the door! Talk about your bad neighbors.”

              “You gonna light it up with a flare?” Tubby asked Bud, thrilled a little at the prospect.

             
“Nah, I’m kinda pooped,” Bud said, handing up the flare gun. “You do the honors, Hoss.”

             
Tubby smiled behind the pain. He traded the flare gun with the Colt in his other hand. “Where should I aim?”

             
“Over there,” Bud indicated with his index finger. “Right where Josie started the lighter fluid.”

             
Tubby raised the flare gun and aimed it at the holly bush Bud pointed out. The flare left the pistol with a hollow
Ploomp!
instantly lighting the night around them. The flare bounced through the wetted target area, coming to rest several yards further than its intended target.

The lighter fluid erupted at once, though. A blue line of combustion, streaking across the forest floor.

The dense carpet of pine needles and pinecones caught fire and the flames began to spread out in all directions. The silence of the woods was now broken by the snap, crackle, and pop of the hungry blue flame.

             
“There’s one flare left, Tubs. Save it for—”

             
“Oh, good God,” Tubby intoned. He was looking off in the distance, where the flare was sputtering out.

             
Bud followed Tubby’s wild-eyed gaze. Before the flare died out, its yellow light illuminated a nightmarish sight. The hellish vision reminded him of a clichéd old western movie. The kind where a multitude of bloodthirsty savages line up on a faraway hill. Instilling psychological terror upon the passing settlers below. Letting them imagine the horrors that awaited them before the horror even began. The moment was as bizarre as one of his dreams. The all too familiar sensation of déjà vu washed over him. He’d been through this many times before. Only in his dreams, he’d never seen the face of what was chasing him. Just the eyes. Tonight was the real thing.

             
Josie and Rusty saw the mass of Rabids, too. Their numbers had grown from the two dozen or so, back at the sinkhole, to more than a hundred strong now. She turned to Bud. “What are they doing, lining up like that?”

             
“They’ve become organized,” he said, stepping squarely into one of his dreams. Thanks to his mom, he knew exactly what to do. “Any second now and they’re going to overrun us with their sheer numbers.”

             
“I wonder if they’ll take turns raping us, or just rip us apart,” Rusty muttered morbidly.

             
“They’ll have to catch us first, sweetheart,” Bud said in his Bogart voice. “You wanna save ‘em the trouble and just wait here?”

             
“Fuck all that!” Rusty said, giving the drooling horde the finger.

“Then check your loads and get ready to haul ass.”

Bud withdrew his .45 and ejected the clip. Everyone save Tubby checked their ammo and filled their weapons with the box of bullets and shells Bud had in his backpack.

Bud looked up and nudged Josie with his elbow. The fire was spreading towards the Rabids, illuminating them now in its Faustian glow. In the flickering light they looked even more feral than before. Despite their numbers, though, the fire was doing the job Bud had envisioned.

At least for the time being.

Like all creatures possessed of the primeval, the Rabids were in awe of the flame. Several of the more infected individuals broke rank and scattered into the dark woods. Their primitive wails sounded like wolves in mourning. The rest stood their ground, shielding their shiny eyes from the baking light. Waiting for some signal, like a flock of starlings, grouping and regrouping, before they took final explosive wing.

              “It’s working!” Josie said. “The fire stopped them!”

             
Rusty’s eyeglasses reflected the flames. He had his eye on the far end of the line, off to the right, where he’d seen something his friends had missed. “Heads up
,
Creep
s
! They’re making an end-run on us!”

             
The fire extended just so far, and some of the Rabids had puzzled this out. Those that had were already trying to reorganize the rest to their cause.

Bud thumbed off the safety to his .45
.

“This is it,
Creepo
s
!
LET”S HAUL ASS!”

             
Josie caught up to Bud and took the lead again. This time she didn’t attempt to govern the speed but ran as fast as Bud could manage. Behind them, Rusty fired off a salvo.

“Got one!” he hollered.

              Tubby seemed to come to life. He sat up straight on Bud’s back and watched their sides. He saw something white flash off to their right, making a beeline for Josie, who was too busy looking straight ahead.

“Watch out, Joe!” ON YOUR RIGHT!”

The Colt’s action was stronger than he’d anticipated and his shot flew three feet over the target’s head. The Rabid burst out of the bushes and dove for Big Red.

She fired from the hip, removing its face right down to the skull. It flew backwards in a cherry mist of blood, bone, and brains. Tubby stared at Josie’s striding back in awe. The girl’s copper ponytail bobbed along, unperturbed.

             
Bud saw a Rabid drawing nigh on their left and he shot it in its kneecap. The creature fell over in a naked somersault, its lower left leg flopping on a gristly thread. It shrieked its impotent rage at the leering moon above.

These were solitary thrusts and parries, however, intended to distract their prey from the main body behind them.
To slow them down for the kill…

Bud had had this dream too many times, though, not to heed its urgent warning:
Whatever you do,
it told him,
don’t allow your enemy to get in front of you!

             
“They’re getting closer, Bud!”
Rusty worried behind him. He fumbled with his gun as he replaced the spent shells, dropping as many as he reloaded. He was having more luck with the .38, though. The Rabids who had breached the end of the fire were now merging into another line, urging the others to fall in with them.

             
“They’ve fallen back so they can rush us en masse!”
Bud shouted.
“Josie, help Gnat scatter them again! Tubby and I will take the point! Let’s put some distance between us and
Them
!”

Indeed, the way ahead now seemed clear. The Rabids assumed their prey were just running blindly through the woods. Mice with nowhere to go. All that was necessary was to keep them in sight. Not imbued with the powers of the virus, their victims would soon falter. Then they could be more safely disarmed. If the Rabids had realized these four mice had a nearby hole to drop into, they would have surely engulfed them by now.

While Bud took the lead, Josie dropped back and let the Mossberg have its noisy say.

Tubby bounced wildly on Bud’s back. Every time the big fellow came down on Bud’s shoulders it felt as If he’d gained a thousand pounds. His heart felt as if it would explode inside his heaving chest; his straining lungs to pop any second.
But we’re so close now!

Too close to think about resting.

“Take those assholes on the right, from the center out!”
he heard Josie instruct Rusty. “I’ll take the left side!”

Their rapid gunfire was music to Bud’s ears. Rabids began to fall like autumn leaves in a windstorm. Their combined onslaught not only whittled the Rabids’ numbers, it had slowed them down as well! Their gunfire became more sporadic as Rusty and Josie caught up with Bud and his flailing cargo. A looming hedgerow of palmetto shrubs, scrub pines, bamboo, and hanging vines appeared on their horizon, blocking th
e
Creep
s
’ escape ahead.

Bud looked to his left and right. The densely packed vegetation didn’t seem to clear in either direction.

He raised his .45 and fired blindly into the matted wall, in case anything was waiting on the other side. Tubby did the same, emptying his Colt.  Bud hit the hedgerow at a full sprint. The bamboo and vines lashed out at the boys, trying to snatch them off their feet. A vine grabbed Tubby’s broken leg, and he screamed in agony, dropping the empty .45 in the process. Somehow he managed to hold on to the flare gun. All at once, he and Bud were through to the other side! Tubby peeked out from one barely opened eye.

“We made it!” he squeaked in disbelief.

Just then, Rusty and Josie broke through behind them.
“YYYEEE-HHHAAA!
Rusty yodeled joyously.
“BREAK OUT THE SALT AND TEQUILA! ‘CAUSE THERE’S MARGARITTAVILLE!”

             
They had entered the clearing closer to their destination than Bud had dared hope. For once, luck was on their side. The full moon above illuminated their salvation, not fifty yards away! Lizard Lake serenely reflected the moon’s red glow in its mirrored waters. Another puzzle piece slipped permanently into place. Behind them, they could hear the desperate crash of brush and branch.

The Rabids again, closing in…

              At the sight of the Bunker, Bud caught his second wind. The trembling in his muscles vanished. 

Behind him Josie shouted:
“They’ve broken through, Bud! Right behind us!”

             
The Rabids will see the entrance to our hideout now.
It was, Bud knew, his last chance on altering the events about to ensue. There was nothing left to do now but play out their roles and hope for a miracle. One had already taken place in the sinkhole—why not the Bunker, too?

Sometimes, Buddy boy,
the familiar voice intoned in his head,
the only thing left to depend on
is
God.

             
Bud slid to a halt in front of the rabbit hole, his second wind gone now. He fumbled for the knife at his side, his legs and arms shaking uncontrollably, making it difficult for him to complete this otherwise simple task. It brought back memories of a night long, long ago, when his little hands had trembled so violently, attempting to retrieve a Cub Scout flashlight from his bedside table. Bud’s life had come full circle. Once more, he was attempting to vanquish the boogeyman.
Only this time, I’m not alone.

Then again, neither was his old enemy alone.

Josie and Rusty rushed to Bud’s side, turning and firing into the line of Red Eyes racing towards them. This time their onslaught failed to divert the mad charge. The Rabids came through the bamboo like a hot wave of army ants, intent on the destruction of anything in their path. Their numbers had again increased. They raced over the bodies of their fallen comrades as if they weren’t even there. Meeting the bullets with bovine disregard.

“There’s too many!” Rusty despaired. “We’ve got to get underground!”

              “Cut Tubby off my back first!” Bud ordered him. “Josie, keep blasting away!”

             
While Rusty frantically sawed through the ropes, Josie sought out the closest Rabids. The ones posing the most immediate threat. Three were far ahead of the hungry pack. Taking a bracing breath, Josie took careful aim. She took out the first with a clean head shot, and disabled the second with a dispersed blast to its lungs. It hit the ground and didn’t get up. Red, frothy bubbles jetted high into the air as one of its kind stomped over its chest.

As Rusty cut the last of Tubby's bonds, Josie swung her 12 gauge towards another nearby Rabid.

She recognized this one. The mother of one of her classmates. Mrs. Libby Tyne. Josie recalled the elfin woman for her kind smile and the tasty pecan sandies she made every year for the school bake sale.

Josie aimed at Libby’s head, shearing off the right side of her face and jaw. Still, the red-eyed bitch came on, her pendulous breasts swinging wildly from side to side.

Josie moaned. She was tired of all the bloodshed and was unable to summon up any more hate in her heart. She pulled the trigger and erased Mrs. Libby Tyne from the face of the earth.  The shotgun empty now, Josie dropped the smoking Mossberg at her feet.

             
Bud grabbed her from behind. “Get down below!” he said, shoving her after Rusty. “Get Tubby down that ladder-well! I’ll hold ‘em off as long as I can!”