Quarrel with the Moon Read online

  "And if I don't ... leave?"

  Roma looked directly at Josh; the pupils of her eyes were pinpoints. "Josh, I'm afraid. I almost hope you go. That way you'll be safe."

  "But even if I go," said Josh evenly, "you don't have to do what Orin wants."

  "You don't know him," Roma said. "You don't."

  "Well, I'm not going any place, love. I want to stay here."

  Roma turned. "You really mean that, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "But Orin ...?"

  "Orin doesn't frighten me, Roma. I can take care of myself." Josh walked to the open window. "I feel different here. It's like I was never really myself before I came here." He sniffed the night air. "It's like the mountains have somehow transfused their power into my blood. I feel different and yet the same and I don't ever want to leave. Perhaps I cannot."

  Roma joined him at the window. "Do you think you could be happy here, Josh? Happy with me an' this life?"

  "I don't honestly know. I don't think I've ever experienced happiness." He slid his arm around her waist. "But there are things which must be reconciled."

  "You mean your job?"

  "No ... other things."

  "What other things?" Roma asked carefully.

  Josh kissed Roma on the lips. "They don't seem important now," he whispered. "Don't be afraid."

  Roma smiled at the moon, "I'm not afraid any more."

  ***

  Night had come to Chestnut Ridge. Having driven the serpents into the woods. Reverend Hooper stood in the doorway of his church and breathed in the crisp air. The moon sliding across the heavens caused the yellow light to alter and change. The vibrant rays bleached out the lines in the preacher's face and added vibrant color to his hair, and in that moment he looked young again.

  "I am filled with joy, sweet Jesus, an' with the Holy Ghost! An' if any man hears my voice an' opens the door, I will come to him."

  Tears of happiness coursed down his rutted cheeks. He no longer feared the night.

  22

  Summer's End was over for another year. The following day the natives of Chestnut Ridge wasted no time in taking down the banners and dismantling the booths. They worked in haste and good humor. They were anxious to go home and prepare themselves for their Saturday social. Life had resumed its normal pattern in the mountain village.

  Watching the residents at work in the fading light of the afternoon sun, Josh was reminded of Pieter Brueghel's medieval paintings of peasants. Nearby a group of youngsters were playing games. From what Josh remembered of his childhood, he assumed it was hide and seek. One little girl with a hairline extending nearly to her eyebrows leaned against the base of a red maple, covered her face and counted while the others, shrieking, ran away.

  The screen door of the general store opened. Sophie Balock shuffled onto the porch and began gathering up empty boxes. In the failing sunlight, she didn't see Josh, who was sitting on her steps.

  "Looks like you sold out, Sophie," he remarked.

  Sophie straightened up. "Oh, Josh, you startled me."

  "Here, let me help you."

  "No, no, I can manage, uh huh, manage."

  Josh, ignoring Sophie's protestations, took the boxes from her and carried them into the store. The place looked as though it had been ransacked. Barrels and boxes were empty of goods. The shelves had been stripped. Even the last piece of hard candy had been sold. With all the merchandise gone, the store looked drab and depressing.

  "Looks as though you've been robbed," said Josh.

  Sophie managed a half-smile. "Now I wonder who was robbing who?" She placed her hands on her hips and, standing in the center of the floor, made a complete turn. Her smiled became an expression of triumph and she drew herself up to her full height. "Well, that's that, uh huh, it sure is."

  Josh inclined his head toward Sophie and offered her a questioning look.

  "Selling all this junk is gonna get me out of here."

  "You're leaving Chestnut Ridge?"

  "That's right. I'm leaving. Uh huh, leaving."

  "You're going away? When?"

  "As quickly as possible," Sophie sang out. "Tomorrow at the latest. Uh huh, the very latest."

  The lines of tension had disappeared from her face, for the first time since he had known her. She looked truly happy.

  ***

  Beneath the floor, not four feet below where Sophie and Josh stood, two people lay facing one another on the ground, their bodies touching, their deformed hands entwined, listening to the conversation above.

  Marinda moved closer to Alex, pressing her narrow adolescent body against his. In response Alex grinned and crookedly slid his hand downward. He undid the buttons of his pants and withdrew his formidable penis. Marinda, still listening, wrapped her fingers around Alex and massaged him while she worked her dress up over her hips. Then she guided Alex into her. He moaned. She touched his lips with her hand, signaling him to remain quiet so that she could listen to Sophie and Josh's conversation.

  ***

  "So you're leaving the Ridge, Sophie. Not many do that."

  "I've been planning it for years. Now that I have the money, nobody's going to stop me." She moved around the store as she continued speaking. "I never belonged here. I was never liked. You shouldn't have to be somewhere where you're not liked."

  "Where are you going to go, Sophie?"

  She looked surprised. "Go? I haven't given it much thought. The main thing is to get off this damn mountain. But wherever I go, there's going to be people who are friendly, uh huh, friendly and nice to me. And there's got to be a beauty parlor." She primped before an imaginary mirror. "I've let myself go, uh huh. I surely have. But a good perm and a color rinse should set things right."

  "When are you leaving, Sophie?"

  "Tomorrow morning," she announced. "I got myself a ride. Uh huh, down to Jericho Falls."

  Josh smiled. "You don't waste any time."

  "Not any more," replied Sophie. "I've been wasting time for years."

  ***

  Alex dug his fingers into Marinda's buttocks as he rode his climax to its conclusion. Marinda, ahead of him, bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. Her sharp teeth penetrated the soft flesh, and blood began to flow from her mouth into Alex's. Shuddering and twisting, they held onto one another tightly until their throes had subsided. At last they broke apart and gave their full attention to the conversation taking place above them.

  ***

  Josh took Sophie's hands and turned her around to face him. "Before you go, Sophie, I need to know some things."

  "What things?" Sophie asked guardedly.

  "I think you know." Sophie shook her head and tried to pull away, but Josh held her fast. "Who made Sissy pregnant, Sophie? Was it your husband? Was it Kalem Balock?"

  "I never knew for sure," wailed Sophie. "How could I? I certainly wasn't there when it happened. I do know this, Kalem had an eye for every pretty thing that lived here. Sissy was only one of them. Uh huh, only one." Her face became ugly and bitter. "I went there that night, you know."

  "Where? Where did you go?"

  "I went out looking for Kalem. I heard from Jewell Runion that Sissy had gone into labor. When Kalem didn't come home that night, I thought he might be with her." Sophie shivered. "It took all the courage I had. It was a stormy night and I hate storms."

  "Tell me what happened," Josh asked, scarcely controlling the excitement in his voice.

  Sophie closed her eyes and began. "I'd started off two or three times, but the storm scared me back. But I was jealous, uh huh, and finally I just grabbed the lantern and left by the back door. I didn't want anyone to see me, to know what I was doing. I was wearing Kalem's black slicker. I don't know what I would have done if I'd found him there at Sissy's. Cried a lot, I suppose. I hid at the edge of the Thicket. The rain had stopped by then. I saw Avarilla arrive and heard Sissy screaming. Lord, how she screamed. The window to her bedroom was partway open, uh huh, and I saw a man pacing abo
ut. I was sure it was Kalem. So I snuck over to the window and looked inside. It wasn't Kalem after all, but Reverend Hooper. I looked in the other windows. Kalem wasn't there. I guess he was in somebody else's bedroom that night. So I come on home."

  "You didn't see anything unusual?"

  "No. There were a lot of other windows I could have looked in that night for Kalem Balock, but I didn't. Maybe I didn't really want to know. It was only the next day that Kalem didn't come back home at all."

  "Did he take anything with him? Clothes? A suitcase?"

  "No, nothing. He just didn't come back." She added vehemently, "I hope to hell he was killed!"

  "But you didn't ... hear anything concerning Sissy and that night?"

  "Well there has been talk. Uh huh, gossip. But I was never one for repeating...."

  "Repeat it, Sophie!" Josh demanded.

  "I over ... rather, I heard Faye and Jewell talking about that night. It didn't make sense to me. They said two babies were born, only something was wrong with one of them. Uh huh, and one died and was buried someplace."

  "Died? Buried? What do you mean?"

  "I don't know what it means. It scared me. They went on about evil and Satan and I didn't want to hear any more. I have to go now, uh huh. I have to pack."

  Josh realized that he had gotten all the information out of Sophie that she had to give. "One more thing, Sophie. Would you have a spare snapshot of your husband that you could give me?"

  Sophie looked at him. "You can have any of them. All of them. I'm not going to mourn Kalem Balock any more."

  Josh selected the photograph of Kalem in a bathing suit, put it in the breast pocket of his shirt, and thanked Sophie. As a parting gesture, he kissed her on the cheek. "I hope you like your next home better than here. Good luck."

  Sophie's eyes misted as he walked out of the store. Then her thoughts returned to her packing. "And I won't say goodbye to anyone."

  ***

  Josh walked slowly through the village. He was more confused than ever. Faye and Jewell had said that one had died ... but both he and Orin were alive and well. Perhaps Sophie didn't hear the conversation properly, since it was obvious that she had been eavesdropping.

  He took out the photograph of Kalem Balock and held it up to the sunlight. The resemblance was remarkable. He hadn't seen it at first. But now the nose, the jawline, the deepset eyes, the texture of the hair, even the structure of the body were more than adequate testimony that he had fathered Sissy's babies. Damn it! And he had abandoned them all. Left his wife, Sissy, his children and the mountains. Jesus, didn't anyone in Chestnut Ridge know what happened to Kalem? If he was dead, then Josh wanted to know for sure. If he wasn't, then somehow, some way, he would find his natural father.

  Josh was heading for Roma's cabin. Suddenly he halted and changed his mind and his direction. He would go to the church. The preacher would know the truth about the night of his birth.

  The day was quickly fading. Josh stopped by the camper and picked up a flashlight. He climbed the path leading to the church and started as something on the ground twisted and moved away. It was a copperhead. Gingerly he walked in a wide arc around it and hurried on his way. The church, bathed in an eerie green-gold glow, loomed before him. The front doors were open. He called out the preacher's name.

  Josh stopped to listen. He could hear nothing except the echo of his own voice fading into nothingness. The coming night pressed around him like a physical weight. It was as if the air had thickened. Josh reached the bottom step and flashed the beam about. A black snake uncurled and wiggled away, becoming lost against the night.

  Josh investigated the rest of the steps thoroughly with the light before stepping onto them. He stood before the open doors, straining his eyes against the blackness inside. "Reverend Hooper, are you there?" There was no response. Josh stepped inside and aimed the beam around the interior of the church. He saw the pews, the pulpit and the Good Shepherd window. He started down the aisle, keeping the beam close to the floor in case there were any more serpents.

  Josh heard someone breathing. He swung the beam around and cried out in horror. The round circle of light illuminated Reverend Hooper's cadaverous face. The preacher's eyes were unfocused and glazed, his mouth slack and a yellow froth edged his lips. "Who is it?" His voice, thin and agonized, sounded as if it were coming from somewhere very far away. Josh let the light fall. He turned the beam around so that the old man could see his face. The preacher staggered backwards as if he had been struck by a mighty force.

  "You're - not - Orin!"

  "No, I'm not," Josh answered. "I'm Joshua, Orin's twin."

  Reverend Hooper's face became distorted with fear and his eyes became protuberant, as if two tiny animals were clawing to get out through his eyes. He thrust his arms in front of him, holding the palms flat, the fingers spread apart as if trying to block out Josh's image. "You came ... back from the ... grave! Avarilla killed you ... we buried ... you ... under the willow tree!" Then suddenly his back arched like a bow, his mouth stretched open and a scream, horrendous in its power, issued from the depths of his own purgatory.

  There was a sharp crack followed by a splintering sound and then a deafening roar like an explosion. Josh looked up. The stained-glass window had shattered. Shards of colored glass flew in all directions. He covered his face with his arms to protect himself, and when at last he looked back at the window, the remaining lead filling silhouetted against the sky resembled a web spun by a giant spider. Except for the face of Christ, there was not a pane of glass left. Then the lead holding that piece snapped. The pane dangled for a moment, turning slowly and distorting the features of Christ. Then it, too, fell, crashing to the floor. The glaring, evil light of the moon flooded into the church.

  Josh, thinking the preacher might have been hurt, flashed the light on him. His eyes were tightly shut. He didn't appear to notice the phenomenon which had taken place. The preacher's eyes snapped open. He threw back his head and shrieked with hysteria. The yellow froth turned scarlet. "There is no God!" he screamed. "There is only the devil!"

  Josh began to gag. He stumbled down the aisle, crashed into pews, fell, recovered and lurched forward again. The light pitched crazily in front of him. On the porch he leaned over the edge and retched. Still trembling, he closed the doors of the church. It was a symbolic act, as if closing the doors could forever seal away the ghastly image from his waking mind.

  23

  Sophie was sitting on the edge of her bed, counting her money. Her hair was tortured into rag curlers after having been freshly tinted with strong, black coffee. Her face was slathered with cream and she was wearing her favored nightgown, a confection of white eyelet lace and pink ribbons. She licked her fingertips and finished the stack of bills and the handkerchief full of silver. She pursed her lips and exclaimed, "Six hundred and twenty-six dollars and forty-five cents. Damn! It still comes out different. I'll just do it one more time. Uh huh, one more time."

  Next to the bureau were the two suitcases Sophie had packed. One more night and then freedom. She'd arranged to ride with Reuben, who was taking a delivery down to Jericho Falls in his horsedrawn wagon. Sophie wasn't looking forward to the trip and Reuben with his smell and all, but it didn't matter. After all, she was getting out.

  ***

  In the kitchen, a curved talon as sharp as a dagger neatly slit the wire screening of the door. Then a hand reached inside and flipped open the hook. The fingers of the hand were foreshortened and the thick thumb receded into fur-covered flesh.

  ***

  Sophie stopped counting and turned her head toward the kitchen at the sound. She jumped up; the change in her lap fell clattering to the floor. She looked at the flowered drapes in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Why hadn't she taken them down? The curtains billowed slightly. A breeze, that was it! She had left the kitchen door open and the screen door latched. It was just a pesky breeze and nothing more. She bent down to pick up the coins, but she kept her eyes riveted
to the ruffled drapes.

  She would not feel truly secure until she investigated. She chided herself for being like a frightened child who couldn't sleep at night until it looked beneath the bed. She had nothing to fear now, Sophie reasoned. She was leaving that accursed community, going to start a bright new life.

  She hurriedly swept the coins into the handkerchief and tied several knots to keep the silver from spilling again and set it on the nightstand. She smiled at her own foolishness and, barefoot, padded over to the drapes. She raised her arms to open them. The taloned hand slashed through the fabric and the nail of the longest digit cut neatly through the tip of Sophie's nose.

  Sophie screamed and staggered backwards. The curtain was ripped to shreds by two pairs of grotesque hands. Sophie stared in horror at the visitors. The human identities of Alex and Marinda were still visible, but they were much changed. Marinda's cheeks were covered with hair, her flared nostrils larger, her eyes beneath now shaggy brows yellow and glowing. Her lips were stretched back over her teeth, which had become large and sharp. Alex's entire face was heavily furred. His ears were large, elongated and pointed at the tips. Four large incisors, two bottom and two top, distorted his mouth.

  Sophie, bleeding, backed into the closet door. Alex and Marinda were changing. They threw back their heads and howled as the fur sprouted and grew. It was a painful yet sexual sound, as if they were experiencing some kind of masochistic climax.

  Alex dropped to the floor and began moving toward Sophie. The shotgun! Her hand flew out and clutched the doorknob of the closet. Alex dove at her, his powerful teeth clamped around her narrow wrist. Sophie shrieked; he snapped it like a dead branch. Screams of agony shattered the night. His incisors worked through muscles, tendons, and arteries, until the hand was torn from the arm. Sophie's bulging eyes were riveted on the bleeding stub at the end of her sleeve. Sophie fell to her knees and rolled under the bed. Marinda's claws caught her bare feet and rent the bottoms like knives cutting through warm butter.

  Despite her pain, Sophie had the presence of mind to tear a ruffle from her nightgown, and, using her teeth and her remaining hand, tied a tourniquet above her mangled wrist. Her hair and curlers became entangled in the springs of the bed. Sophie pulled and twisted but managed to leave several clumps of hair behind. She dragged herself to the head of the bed and pressed her body against the wall. Tears of fright and pain blurred her vision. She blinked them away as she tried to will her mind to function. Thinking as a process was impossible; Sophie could only act from the instinct of survival.