There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (99 page)

His hand touched the doorknob and jerked away instantaneously.
What the hell am I thinking!? I can’t go down there!
One of
Them
is down there—

No…It isn’t…It’s coming up the fucking stairs!

As fast as its bare legs would take it from the light down there! Up the steep flight it came. Growling. Gibbering. Galing. Like a rabid wolf. Hungry, hurt, and insane. Freezing Rusty Huggins, right where he stood…

                            *******

Bill Brown peered out into the tunnel. The Rabid had left the cellar door open, and Bilbo stood in the doorway, looking cautiously about.

“Where do you suppose it went?” Bud asked his dad. Josie was safely sandwiched between the two.

             
Bill turned towards the exit, where the bright lights of the lobby gave the hedge lions a peculiar halo effect. He looked the other way, further into the attraction; where it curved deeper into the make believe menagerie of Stephen King. The dim blue lights, emulating dusk’s last gasp, barely made a dent in the tunnel’s black heart. For the first time since opening the museum, the “Laugh Track,” as he and Bud ironically referred to the artificial wails of terror, actually gave Bill Brown some pause. “It’s got to be in there,” he said, pointing into the tunnel. “Bud, you and Joey stay here. You said you left the .38 on your bed?”

             
“We’re coming too, Pop. The guys—”

             
“Don’t worry, son. If they’re still inside, I’ll bring ‘em out with me.”

             
Josie grabbed his arm. “Bilbo…”

             
He patted her hand. “It’s okay, honey. I need y’all to make sure that thing doesn’t get back down the cellar stairs. I doubt that a locked door would pose much of a problem for its kind. Our only hope tonight is keeping the lights on while those things are off hunting easier prey.” He looked at his son. “Give me ten minutes, Bud. If I’m not back by then, you and Josie get downstairs. Lock and nail that door shut with as much timber as you can find on the other side. And guard that generator with your life! There’s plenty of spare gas in my darkroom to keep it running all night. Then at first light you take everyone to your bunker.”

“At least take the shotgun with you,” Bud said, choosing to humor his dad. No way was he leaving his old man out here to fend for himself.

              Bill ignored the proffered weapon and jogged over to the Overlook before his son could put up a fuss.

             
“Och,” Josie observed, as Bud fumed beside her. “So pigheadedness really is hereditary!”

             
                            *******

Like the façades of an old Western town, to make the storefronts and saloons appear larger than they were, the front of the Overlook gave the impression of a rather grandiose hotel. The two-bedroom apartment within, however, wasn’t much larger than the little suite the Torrances’ shared in Stanley Kubrick’s film version.

The front door was ajar, the lock splintered. Bill pushed it all the way open with the toe of his work boot. The lights were full on, the living room at first glance uninhabited. The blanket he’d placed over Rusty lay on the floor in front of the couch. Neither boy was anywhere in sight. Bill was turning away when something caught his eye. The easy chair was still fully reclined.
And occupied!

A blanket covered the fat looking lump underneath.

                            *******

Rusty climbed wearily into the
Stand By Me
treehouse. He crawled through the hatch, closing it softly underneath him, and collapsed on the floor. Despite being exhausted he was oddly exhilarated. For once in his life, panic hadn’t ruled him! At the last second he’d broken free from his fear and dashed into the winding tunnel,
away
from the baiting light. At first he thought he’d gotten away scot-free. The Rabid from the cellar had gone the other way! Without so much as a backward glance, it ran straight into the Hotel’s hedgerow maze, where the looming green shrubs must’ve made it feel more at home. But then the other Rabid, the one that had killed Tubby, entered the scene, stage right.

Flying out of the Overlook like a Tasmanian devil, her rage a terrible thing to behold. Unlike her counterpart, she took heed of the running boy and took up his immediate pursuit. Luckily for Rusty, he’d had a huge head start. He’d made the most of it, too, getting as far as the treehouse before running out of gas. He’d considered hiding in Cujo’s Barn, but that sunless stall seemed a more likely abode for the Rabid to roost. The treehouse, on the other hand, sat bathed in harsh floodlights. The sight of which brought a relieved smile to Rusty’s face.
I’ll be safe in there,
he thought. The smile vanished, replaced with a grimace.
As long as the lights stay on... 

Laying there on the treehouse floor, he was reminded of that old Vincent Price movie:
The Last Man on Earth
. His parents were gone, Tubby was gone, and for all he knew, Bud and Josie were gone, too.

He might very well be the last man on earth! Or at least the last
sane
man on the Moon…

He rolled onto his belly and crawled over to one of the knotholes in the pine wood walls. The cheap splintered boards reeked of sap. It brought to mind the Piney forest
.

If I can just last out the night, I’ll make for the Bunker at first light...

He peered out into the tunnel, trying to ignore the conversation, taking place all about him. From outside, in the tunnel, the voices were just audible. You could almost picture the four young boys playing cards around an upended peach crate. Laughing and ranking each other out. From inside, where the speakers vibrated directly overhead, the voices were decidedly jarring; the incessant chatter of oblivious ghosts:
“Hey, Teddy, you hear the one about the French guy who knocked up the alley cat?”

“Hey, I’m French, you dill hole! I knock.”
 

“Already!? I didn’t deal you no pat hand, you four-eyed pile of doo-doo!”

“This pile of doo-doo has a
thousand
eyes!”

Wild giggles abound.

“Hey…you guys want to go see a dead body?”

And so on, and so forth. The dialogue as so many King fans had pointed out over the years was different from both the film and novella, but Bilbo wasn’t about exact reproductions. What was the point of that? Any asshole can make an exact copy of something brilliant. Like that remake of
Psycho
. Besides, parents didn’t like to hear profanity while in the company of their rugrats. Scare Junior silly? Sure, no problem. It’s cute when he craps his pants like that. But just cuss around their precious poopsie and you’ll be sure to feel their full parental wrath.

At least that’s what Bilbo always said.

Rusty hadn’t minded the changes anyway. To him, the word
doo-doo
was hilarious. Like Cucamonga or titmouse. Far more giggleishous than “Shit.”

Doo-doo, like the proverbial banana peel, was what you stepped in when the laugh track was running. Shit, was what you found yourself in when things turned to…well…
shit
. Rusty Huggins was in a world of
shit
.

The audio loop wasn’t so bad the first time around, but when the track re-played the conversation for the tenth time, Rusty thought he might go Postal.

He disconnected the wires, pulling them free of their terminals, silencing the ghosts, forever and amen.

Resuming his station at the knothole, he wondered how long he would have to stay up here. Already the four pine walls were closing in on him. As if in reply, he heard the sound of faint footfalls coming from inside the tunnel.

The
slap, slap, slap
of bare feet…

             
            *******

Bud Brown checked his watch. His dad had been gone for almost ten minutes now. “You think we should go see what’s taking him so long?” Josie asked him.

              “I don’t know,” Bud said, frowning. “Pop’s right about keeping an eye on this door. We have to keep the Rabids from getting at the generator again. Then at first light outside, we can safely make tracks for The Bunker.”

The front door of the Overlook kicked open and Bud’s heart clenched like a fist. His dad stumbled out, carrying a portly figure in his arms, covered by a quilt. A white hand dangled limply from underneath the coverlet.

Josie whimpered at the sight.

             
Bill loped across the Overlook’s artificial lawn, looking down the tunnel as he crossed the tracks. As if a train was due any second now. He gently laid Tubby on the ground. “Whew,” he groaned. “That boy’s an armload.”

Bewildered by the offhand comment, Josie and Bud looked at each other. Bud pulled the quilt aside. Ralph Tolson’s face was slack, his lips pale. An angry red knot rose up like an anthill on his forehead. There was no rise and fall of the chest. Nothing to indicate life.

Tubby coughed and gasped. His eyes sprang open.

             
“Ralphie!” Josie cried, ecstatic. She fell to her knees and hugged his round, Charlie Brown head to her breasts, smothering him from ear-to-ear. “Oh, Ralphie!”

             
“Ease up, Joe,” Bud laughed. “Give him some air!”

Tubby peered up at Bud over the ample flesh pressed into his face. The feeling in the air was euphoric. It was as if their friend had come back from the dead. In a good way, though—not the tragic
Pet Sematary
kind of ending Rusty had been envisioning just a little while ago.

             
Tubby disentangled himself from Josie’s death grip. “Jeepers,” he said, his fingers tenderly exploring the extrusion on his forehead. “What the blurb hit me?”

             
“Sorry,” Bill said, shrugging, “but that would be me.” He helped Tubby to his feet. “I was checking out what I
thought
was a corpse on my Lazy Boy, when up you popped from behind the sofa! Scared me so silly I slugged you right in the forehead. Sorry I hit you so hard, son.”

             
“S’okay, Bill. I was scared, too.”

“So what was with the couch cushions underneath the quilt? You really had me going in there.”

Tubby grinned. “That was the point, sir. Only I was trying to fool the Rabid, not you. In case it came back, you know? I was lucky, I guess. I slid off the chair right before she pounced on me. Gee, Bill, I’m not sure, but I think that Rabid was almost blind! Her eyes barely glowed at all. Not like the others. She was fumbling around, searching for me. Crashing into things. Cussing in that creepy language of theirs. I snuck right past her at one point, on my way to Bud’s room. I hid in his closet until all the lights scared it away a few minutes later.”

“That was real smart. The way you turned on all the lights, so when the power kicked back on it would—”

“Oh, I didn’t realize the power was off until I tried the third or fourth light switch! That was just a lucky break.”

             
“Ralphie,” Josie broke in, “where’s Rusty?” Her concern for her missing friend tempered the relief she felt at finding Tubby alive and whole.

             
“I have no idea, Josie. He screamed when that thing jumped on my chair.” Tubby frowned, thinking back. “Or that might’ve been
me
screaming. Anyway, Rusty must’ve thought I was a goner. I sure as heck did.”

             
“You keep saying ‘
She
.’ Don’t you mean ‘
He’
?”

             
“No, sir.” Tubby blushed bright red, remembering the big breasts pressed against him, right before he rolled off the chair. “It was a girl, all right.”

             
“So what were you doing, hiding behind the couch?” Bud asked his friend.

             
“I was gonna ambush her if she decided to come back for me. I found a gun on your bed and I—” It suddenly hit him, how he’d nearly shot Bill back in there. “Jeepers!” He gaped at Bud’s dad. “If you hadn’t slugged me when you did…”

             
“Where’s the gun now?” Bud asked, not caring to contemplate that tragic outcome.

             
“I’ll hold on to this,” Bill said, pulling the revolver from his pants pocket. It’s not too different from my own service piece. Too bad I didn’t keep that one when I retired. We need all the firepower we can get. You have ammo for this .38 in your bunker, son?”

             
“And then some.”

             
“Good deal. Then let’s find Rusty before he runs all the way to Florida. Then we’ll gather up the others and get the hell outta here.”

             
“I thought we were going to hole up for the night,” Bud said. He couldn’t imagine trying to find their way through the Pines in the dark. Especially since the hurricane had knocked over so many trees and in all likelihood made the old forest trails impassable.