Quarrel with the Moon Page 23

  Sophie heard them breathing and saw them crouching on either side of the bed, savoring her whimpering fear. Marinda stood up. Sophie watched as she walked on padded feet toward the nightstand. The patterns of light began to shift. Marinda had picked up the kerosene lamp. The shadows began moving crazily, and Sophie smelled the acrid odor of kerosene. There was a loud whoosh; she knew with heart-rending certainty that Marinda had set fire to the bed.

  The coverlet ignited first and fingers of smoke began to drift toward the ceiling. As the flames burned Sophie was shocked into a vital realization. "My money!" she cried. "Oh, my money!" Her escape was blocked by Alex and Marinda standing on either side of the bed and her hope chest at the foot. Sophie moved to the back wall, shoved her arm up between the wall and the brass headboard, and pushing, managed to make a space large enough for herself. She grasped the headboard and pulled herself to her feet. The bedclothes were in flames. The paper money, curling and burning like leaves, was turning into bits of blackened soot which floated toward the ceiling. Sophie, weak from loss of blood, knew she was going to die. But with the money gone, she didn't really care. Through the feverish flow of the fire she saw the creatures positioned by the bed. They were watching her. The pillows were burning now, and the stench of burning feathers filled the air.

  Sophie moved sideways, hoping to reach the bedroom window. Suddenly the bed was brutally slammed against her chest, breaking her ribs and driving one of them into her spleen. Again and again the heavy headboard crushed Sophie's body. The brass was hot. The flames licked her nightdress and she heard a crackling sound. She realized her hair had caught fire, and mercifully Sophie slipped into unconsciousness.

  Later Sophie's body was dragged away to a secret place. A feasting place.

  ***

  Josh lay face down in the dry and brittle grass. How long he had lain there, he couldn't say. Time seemed to have stopped there on that lonesome hillock. Perhaps it was a moment or two, possibly half an hour. His hands were pressed against his head and he massaged his skull, as if the pressure would somehow alleviate all the horror he had seen. The past weeks blurred together and rushed through his tortured mind like a nonstop nightmare - seeing the strange skull, coming to Chestnut Ridge, meeting the deformed young people, the hideous cave in the coal mine, Avarilla's revelations, Jewell Runion's body, and finally the hideous ravings of Reverend Hooper.

  He wanted to scream until his throat was raw and bleeding. But his larynx was tight and constricted, and even his sobs remained pulsating in his chest. Josh sat up and rubbed his temples. The throbbing pain in his head subsided, and he could breathe normally at last.

  There was an answer to everything which had happened. That answer lay buried beneath the willow tree near Avarilla's house. He stood up.

  A red glow and plumes of black smoke were coming from the village. The youngsters must have built a bonfire with the dismantled booths. He heard the nasal twang of a fiddle and the lively plunk-plunk of a banjo. The Saturday night social would be starting soon. Earlier, Avarilla had mentioned that she was taking Sissy with her that night as a special treat for her work on the quilt. Josh made plans to meet Roma there.

  But he wasn't going to the social, not now. He began walking the path which would take him to the Thicket and, he hoped, his past.

  24

  Avarilla's house was dark and could not give testimony for what it was about to witness. Josh's footsteps were silent as he crossed the yard. When he was halfway between the willow tree and the house the countryside was suddenly lit up by a shard of lightning. The sky moaned, and the previously peaceful clouds began to churn. Josh blinked but did not stop. A violent gust of wind swept the silvery branches of the willow to one side, leaving the thirty-two-year-old gravesite open to the night. Josh froze. Silhouetted against the electric sky, a shovel was jammed into the earth. Waiting for him.

  Josh moved toward the shovel. As he touched the handle, thunder blared from the heavens and lightning galvanized the countryside. He raised the shovel and plunged it deep into the earth. A piercing wind shrieked, and its cries were echoed and re-echoed throughout the Thicket.

  As the hole grew deeper, the odor of the rich soil became mixed with something else - something long forgotten, long dead.

  Josh knelt and looked into the shallow grave. Bits of rotting material were folded around something. It crumbled in his trembling hands and revealed a small skeleton inside. Josh was puzzled. A shadow appeared beside him and stretched across the grave.

  "That was Reuben's pup. I told him it ran away."

  Josh turned, and looked at Avarilla. The wind blew tendrils of her hair across her face. "Tell me the whole story this time."

  She knelt beside him and spoke in a flat, emotionless voice. "I reckon it all began with Kalem Balock. After he moved here, things started changin' in the Ridge. Kalem was as evil as he was handsome. Oh, he could be charmin' as all get-out. An' I was fooled like everyone else. I didn't suspect a thing. None of us did. It was beyond our fancies. Even when our farm animals were found dead, their throats torn, their flesh eaten, we didn't suspect. A pack of wild dogs, we told ourselves. But then outsiders, tourists, began disappearin' an' I knew that an evil force was in our community." Avarilla's voice turned bitter. "Kalem was a ladies' man. He caused every female heart in the Ridge to flutter. He bedded most of them. But that wasn't none of my business." She paused. "Till he turned his attentions on Sissy. Despite her ... affliction, Sissy was real pretty. I warned Kalem to stay away from her. I warned him.

  "Sissy got pregnant. I wasn't sure who the father was. But I was still foolish enough to think that Kalem had heeded me. Foolish, foolish old woman. Sissy got bigger an' bigger every day. But I didn't think it was twins. Big babies ran in the family. Her time came early. I was in Jericho Falls attendin' Leoma. Her baby was born dead, an' they were both brokenhearted. They wanted that baby so bad." She glanced up at the turbulent sky. "There was a big storm that night, an' I almost didn't get back to the Ridge. When I got back home I found a note from Jewell. Jewell an' Faye were worried about complications an' had called in Rev'rend Hooper to do some prayin' over her." She laughed bitterly. "A lot of good that did.

  "Reuben was only twelve then. He was upset by Sissy's cryin' out. So he took his pup an' went to sleep in the barn." Here she paused and ran her hands over the mound of soil as if drawing strength from the rich earth. "Toward midnight you were born. What a fine-lookin', healthy baby you were, Josh." Her voice began to break. "Then, a short time later, another baby came." Avarilla gasped, unable to keep the horror out of her voice. "An' that baby bore the mark of the beast. It was covered all over with hair, just like an animal. An' it had claws."

  Josh looked at Avarilla. Her face, bleached white by the lightning, was unnaturally composed. And he knew that she was telling him the truth.

  "The preacher swore Jewell an' Faye to secrecy an' sent them home. He an' I knew what we had to do. He went out to dig the grave, this grave. I took the baby an' laid it on the kitchen table an' went to get a knife. Then - then the baby changed before my very eyes. The hair an' claws disappeared an' he looked just as normal as the other one. How could I kill him? How? He had come from Sissy's body. He was my own flesh an' blood. Tell me, how could I end his life?

  "I hid the baby an' I snuck out to the barn an' got Reuben's pup. I cut its throat, wrapped it in a piece of flannel an' then, the preacher an' me ... we buried it.

  "The next day I took you over to Harley an' Leoma. I can't call it love at first sight, because I saw you first. Oh, how they rejoiced. You were like a miracle to them." She reached out and touched Josh's cheek. "I gave you away because I loved you the best." Her voice became hollow as if she were speaking from a great distance. "I kept Orin here. I thought that way I could watch him, find a pattern to the changin', an' keep him out of trouble. Then Kalem came to call. The very next night he showed up at the house an' demanded to see his child. He began laughin' an' asked if it looked like him. An' as he l
aughed he began changin'."

  "Changing?"

  "Changin' into his beast form. Half-man, half-wolf. It was a terrible sight. My blood runs cold just to tell of it. He started to come up on the porch, but I was prepared for him. I had a shotgun, an' I shot him an' I killed him. I carried his body to the Lookout an' dropped it off the bridge. It fell into the stream an' was carried down to the river."

  "Oh, my God!" exclaimed Josh. "Then the skull, the bones were ..."

  "Kalem Balock."

  "My father."

  "Even in death, Kalem reaches out to curse us all."

  "You believe that Kalem Balock was a ... a werewolf?"

  Avarilla nodded.

  "How could such a thing happen? How did he get that way?"

  "I don't know, Joshua. I can't even imagine."

  "And where did he come from?"

  Avarilla took a deep breath. "Somewhere in Europe."

  "I just can't believe this."

  "Joshua, believe what I tell you," Avarilla said gently. "You saw the remains of Kalem Balock. You can't explain away that." Avarilla cried out in anguish. "God help me, but I kept Kalem Balock alive in Orin! So many people have paid for my foolishness. So very many. You see, I believe Orin caused the mine accident that killed all those men. When he was still a teenager he had bedded every woman in the Ridge, married an' single, an' made each of them pregnant. Yes, he killed those men. He wanted their women all to himself."

  "You're saying that the children are...."

  "All his. All like Orin. Like Kalem. Only to a lesser degree. They cannot change as fully as Orin, but they can change."

  "That means Roma is one of them," Josh groaned.

  Avarilla nodded slowly. "But it's Orin who makes them do evil things. He has power over them. They do everything he says. Orin wants Roma back. She has no choice but to go to him."

  "No! I won't let that happen."

  Avarilla quietly added, "Orin means to kill you."

  Josh looked at his grandmother, hoping that she was exaggerating, but he knew that she was not. He suddenly thought of Cresta. "My God, Cresta. Do you suppose Orin let her leave?"

  "I don't know. I liked her even though she was an outsider. I prayed for her safety."

  "Who did you pray to? Surely not God?"

  "I pray to the powers of nature, Josh. Look, look around you. Can't you feel its power? Can't you smell it?" The air was charged with the overwhelming aroma of ozone, and the thunder was so powerful that it shook the earth on which they stood. She put an arm around his shoulders. "Don't you see you were meant to return? Now you must take your rightful place. After all, you were the first born."

  "What are you saying?"

  "The others, the ones who are only partially tainted with the strain of the wolf, can be tamed. But not as long as they follow Orin. This evil must be stopped. An' the evil is him ... him."

  "You mean ... kill him?" Josh's voice was hoarse with emotion.

  "Yes."

  "When?"

  "Tonight. Now."

  Josh stood up. "There's no other way?"

  She shook her head sadly.

  "Where do I meet him?"

  "You'll find him." Avarilla embraced Josh. "Go with my blessin', Joshua."

  A blessing or a curse, Josh wondered. He walked away into the darkness.

  Josh moved like a sleepwalker down the Thicket, towards the covered bridge. He looked to his right; in the distance he could see the Lookout. There was a glow coming from it as if it were on fire. And he knew instinctively that that was where the ritual would take place. He hurried through the shivering woods and reached a pathway leading to the Lookout. The giant boulder was lit by scores of torches stuck in the earth and wedged in between rocks. It looked like a gigantic birthday cake, Josh mused.

  Birthday. Birth Day.

  Appropriate.

  He braced himself as he stepped onto the swinging bridge. Gripping the rope rails, Josh willed himself not to look down. Though falling into the gorge would be an easier death than what he was to face.

  Easy now. One foot in front of the other. A whipping wind caused the bridge to veer sharply to the left. Josh closed his eyes and went on.

  As Josh stepped onto the boulder, a distant shaft of lightning charged the night sky.

  Silhouetted against the brilliant backdrop, gathered singly and in groups, they were waiting to watch the spectacle.

  The time of the beast had come.

  Josh took off his boots. He preferred to be barefoot. A leather sole could slip on the smooth surface of the rock. Then he removed the rest of his clothes. He did not want the fibers of the cloth driven into the wounds. Josh sucked in the night air and waited. For the first time in his life he knew he was at a disadvantage. It was a sensation he had never before experienced, and it was very lonely. There was no way he could win. Orin was cruel and would want to savor his advantage, reducing him slowly, watching the life flow from him until the ultimate death.

  Josh dragged his gaze around the "arena." The young people of the Ridge were in full attendance - Alex, Marinda, and all the others. They were in their human forms, their eyes glistening, their faces expectant and their mouths hung open in bloodthirsty grins. They were there to enjoy his destruction.

  He didn't see Roma among them. He was glad.

  From the other side of the boulder, Orin emerged. He, too, was nude. He offered Josh an arrogant smile. It was the smile the victor bestowed upon the vanquished. He moved forward on the balls of his feet toward the center of the boulder.

  Josh felt sick and bloodless. Every nerve in his body was jumping, and he envied his brother his confidence, his power, his life. The only way he could bring honor to himself was to see how long he could stay alive. Josh went to meet his opponent, his twin, his brother, his executioner.

  The two men faced one another, dropped into a crouch and began circling, looking for advantage, their nostrils flaring and their eyes blazing, their exhaled breath becoming plumes of white mist.

  A woman's scream rent the air. Roma rushed from the bridge onto the boulder. She stumbled to the center and collapsed beside the two men. Wrapping her arms around Orin's legs, she cried, "Orin, don't do this. I'll stay with you. I promise. Let Josh go." He looked down at her with scorn, kicked out and sent Roma sprawling across the stone. Several of the others rushed to her side, not to aid her, but rather to restrain her. They dragged her to the edge of the rock and held her fast as the fight continued. Josh realized now that Roma was the winner's prize.

  Josh swung a fist at Orin's face and, while the blow landed, it had no more effect than if it had struck a concrete wall. Orin threw back his head and laughed. Then, with the back of his hand, he struck Josh across the ear and sent him reeling to the ground. Roaring flashes of pain exploded inside his head.

  Orin advanced and kicked Josh in the ribs. Josh groaned in agony. Another powerful kick struck him in the face. Orin's sharp toenails tore into his cheek. Josh rolled away from his brother. Placing his palms against the surface of the stone, he pushed down hard and managed to get to his feet. Orin was in no hurry. He stood sturdy against the rising wind, a proud grin splitting his face. There was a ripple of laughter among those who watched and an anguished sob from Roma.

  The two men circled again, poised to attack. Josh moved in fast and appeared to slip. His feet shot out from under him. He was on his back. With a cry, Orin lunged forward. Josh rolled away, jumped to his feet and was out of range. Orin looked up from a prone position. His face had turned ugly. Rolling fast, Orin got to his feet and began forcing Josh toward the swinging bridge. Josh, unaware of his position, continued backing up. Suddenly, Josh felt the bridge post press against his buttocks and knew he had been maneuvered. He started to break, but Orin blocked him with a brutal kick in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and forcing him backwards. Instinctively Josh reached out to grab the rope handles for support and left himself completely unprotected. Orin hit him full in the face with both fists.
Josh staggered blindly, a gagging sound breaking from his throat. He fell against the rope, causing the bridge to swing. Josh slipped from the boards and dropped into space.

  His hands, flailing wildly, caught hold of the wooden slats. When he was sure he had a firm grip, Josh started to pull himself back up. Before he could complete the action Orin stepped onto the bridge, his eyes gleaming, his teeth flashing. Using the full weight of his body. Josh began swinging himself back and forth, causing the bridge to also move. Orin could not keep his balance and was forced to jump back onto the boulder. Josh used those few seconds to pull himself up onto the bridge and standing. Lowering his head, he dove at Orin like a pile-driver. Josh's head crashed into Orin's chest and it seemed as if the huge rock itself quivered with the impact. Orin was down. Roaring with anger, he clamored to his feet and staggered toward Josh.

  Then, with extraordinary speed and power, Josh rushed at Orin, leading with the flat of his left hand. The blow struck Orin's nose and caused jets of blood to spurt from each of his splayed nostrils. Orin fell backwards against a pile of large rocks which supported a torch. The flames burned the flesh of his shoulder, and a deep growl emitted from Orin's throat. He wrenched the torch from its holding place and advanced toward Josh, swinging it in front of him in a bright arc of light.

  The pain inflicted on their leader riled the others. Several began to will themselves to change. Josh stared in horrible fascination. One young man's eyebrows began to grow straight until his entire forehead was covered with bristly hair. A female entwined her hands and held them high in a prayerlike attitude. Her nails, growing long and white, resembled candle tapers. Roma spoke his name just once. It was borne on the wind to the valley, where it grew in volume until it became a shout of desperation. Then Roma dropped to her knees and elbows and began clawing at the surface of the rock.