Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“One more thing,” I said as we headed across the grass in that direction. “In several of my interviews, relatives or friends who were either with or near the deceased reported hearing an unearthly shrieking right before the victim began to gasp for breath.”

“Shrieking from the victim?”

“Some didn’t know, but the ones who did said it definitely didn’t come from the victim. The scream was so loud it seemed to come from the air itself. A few saw bright sparkling lights as well.”

“The killer, whatever it is, announces itself with a shriek and some sparks?” Doc contemplated my face. “What else?”

“I heard a shriek and saw a trail of sparks fall from the sky on the night of the Thunder Moon.”

“The what?”

“The full moon in July is known as the Thunder Moon. Then people started to die.”

“That was the night of the big storm.”

“According to Cherokee legend, when thunder arrives on such a night, magic happens.”

We reached the gravesite. The worker strolled off to have a cigarette under a tree at the edge of the last line of stones. The top of the vault rested against the side, leaving the rectangular container open.

“You think we’ve got an alien?” Doc asked.

I gaped. “What?”

“Falls from the sky in a shower of sparks, then invisibly starts to kill people—or perhaps unpeople— definitely heartless people, literally, which cannot by any stretch of the anatomy be people. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve been watching a little too much Predator, pal.”

Although now that I thought about it, there had been that weird crater Cal and I had found after those sparks tumbled from the sky.

“Predator?” Doc asked. “Is that some new reality show?”

“Arnold, Doc. He commandos in to some bizarre jungle and fights a monster from another planet.” At his continued blank stare, I gave him one more clue. “Schwarzenegger?”

“The governator? I never much cared for him. Too puffy.” He made a fierce face and brought his scrawny arms into a muscleman pose in front of his body. “Errrr!”

I had to laugh, though I sobered quickly enough as I stared at the vault in front of us. “You really think we’ve got aliens in Lake Bluff?”

“We had werewolves.”

The man made an excellent point.

“What if we have aliens in town, then an alien hunter arrives on a sparkling trail of stars?” Doc suggested. “And when he—she—it kills the aliens he—she—it screeches, like a battle cry.”

“If that’s the case,” I said, “then where did the original aliens come from?”

“Pods?” Doc slid a glance my way. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers. That one I know.” He jerked a thumb toward the vault. “Shall we?”

We stepped forward until we could see the casket ensconced within. A lot of people don’t know that you need to purchase not only a casket for the dece

ased but also a vault for both to go into before the burial. Even if the loved one is cremated, a casket is still required. The item is just burned with them. Death is both a huge and a strange business.

Doc leaned over and went to work removing the top of the casket. Of its own accord, my hand went to the butt of my gun. Unfortunately, a bullet, silver or lead, could do nothing to eliminate the smell.

“Why is the smell so bad so soon?” I asked, putting my other palm to my nose.

“No embalming, Sheriff, and it’s July in Georgia. What did you expect?”

I wasn’t sure. More action from the corpse, less smell than we had. Wrong on both counts.