Bad Moon Rising

I said, “Let’s hope Moon’s body turns up.”

Hondo nudged the donuts closer to me, “You’re not through, are you?”

So I ate another one, and my friends finished off the box. Later that evening, Amber and I went to my place, where we watched television for a while, then went to bed.

The next morning I woke to the smell of bacon cooking. I slipped on my shorts and went into the kitchen, where Amber had pancakes and bacon ready and on the table. I said, “What did I do to deserve this?”

“You didn’t get yourself killed.”

“I’ll have to keep that up.”

“You’d better.”

She had the house open for the morning, and the air smelled cool and fresh. The sliding glass door to the deck had been pushed back and allowed a nice view in addition to the breeze.

I toasted Amber with a coffee cup and watched her put the last pancake on the pile before bringing them to the table. As she bent to put the plate down, I caught a whiff of smoke coming in off the deck.

The burned, blackened form of a man stepped into the house and raised a long barreled pistol, like the buntline model used by Wyatt Earp. I had a pancake on my fork and flipped it like a Frisbee at the man’s face to make him jerk his head as I yelled at Amber, “Run!”

I jumped from the chair and grabbed the seat as I twisted at the waist, launching the chair at him. The chair hit into the man’s arms and his first shot went wide.

Amber scrambled past the table as the man, who I recognized as Moon, snapped a quick shot at her. Amber grunted and stumbled, falling on her hands and knees as a spot of blood showed on her lips.

I lifted the table and held it up toward him, charging him and trying to shield Amber. A shot hit the table and came through, but missed me. I felt the table hit him but he didn’t go down. I could see under the bottom edge as his feet moved backward to keep his balance.

Suddenly the long pistol came over the top and fired so close to my face that I felt temporarily stunned and deafened. I swatted at it like a clumsy bear and the pistol sailed through the air and off the elevated deck to hit on the slope below.

I tossed the table aside and charged him, only to catch an ice pick through the hand. I jerked back and he came at me, saying in a horrible, throat-burned voice, “You killed my brother! You. Killed. My. Brother.” With every word he stabbed or slashed at me with the ice pick.

I watched his feet, then shot a high, roundhouse kick at his head.

Moon reacted fast, and the ice pick struck the bone just above my ankle and penetrated a good inch.

Hot pain shot up my leg. I stumbled back and went to the ground, then rolled to my feet, hopping on one leg. The ice pick stuck out diagonally from the inside of my ankle.

Moon reached the fire pit and grabbed an iron poker used for decoration. He swung it at my head and I ducked as the weapon cut the air, making a vhoop sound.

I heard Amber make a bubbly moan as she called my name, “Ro-bha-ny.” My heart broke. I stood on both feet and waited for Moon. He feinted, then came at me.

I moved my feet and caught my free foot on the ice pick, causing a jolt of heart-stopping pain to shoot into my wounded leg. I staggered, and felt the impact of the iron poker as it whistled through the air to catch my ducking head above the ear and send red dots and blue lines across my vision.

I went to my knees and he brought the poker down on my back. I felt a rib give and my breath whoosh out.

Rolling forward, I hit his legs like a large bowling ball and sent him staggering to the rail.

I rose and raced a

t him, throwing kicks and punches as fast as I could, using them to work him off balance and as far from Amber as I could get him.

Moon countered. He’d had some martial arts training, and blocked a number of my attacks.

My breath came in gasps and my leg felt almost useless. Moon seemed manic, energized. He rasped, “Today you die, you yellow coward.”

I had my feet wide apart so I wouldn’t trip over the ice pick, and I launched into him.

We hit the railing hard, with both of us off balance. The wood gave way and we fell.

I twisted and grabbed an intact post with one hand and jerked to a stop, hanging in the air.