Ride the Moon: An Anthology Read online

  At one point, Luke thought he’d hit a dead end, but, after eating more bridgefruit to stave off despair, he palmed the walls of the tunnel until he found a narrow opening at a tilt from the direction he’d come from. The tunnel remained thus—mazelike, confining, difficult—for several turns, during which the boy further lacerated his already ill-treated flesh on the thorny walls of his surroundings.

  After a dozen turns, though, the tunnel opened up. At first, elated at the turquoise demi-light of the sky and the open space, Luke failed to notice that the Moon no longer loomed ahead. In the distance, he noticed pitched tents and the sound of conversations reached him. It was only then that Luke realized that he had reached the Moon.

  He headed toward the camp, toward his classmates from the secondary 4 class of Prettygood Park High School.

  As soon as Luke reached the periphery of the camp, conversation stopped. No-one greeted him, and his classmates either avoided his gaze or looked at him in icy silence. He was used to this kind of treatment, but it nevertheless stung that none of them was able to move beyond that pettiness, so far from everything any of them knew.

  Still feeling unsettled from the bridge crossing, Luke pitched his tent near the others, not wanting to be isolated. Regardless of what the others thought of him.

  Inside his tent, exhaustion overwhelmed Luke and he promptly fell asleep, before he could unroll his sleeping bag.

  Sometime later, Luke awoke to an eerily seductive cooing. The sound was unmistakably feminine, yet unlike anything he had ever heard before. From the outside, someone unzipped the flap of his tent, and to his surprise Blair Jonas slipped inside, without a shred of clothes on, her skin glowing with the same colours as the Moon.

  A pungent loamy smell invaded the tent. Blair smiled at him with a mixture of the predatory and the submissive, not saying a word but cooing that strange sound that had roused him from sleep. Her eyes were now black instead of their usual light brown, and as she drew closer to him he realized that the rich odour emanated from her. There was not a trace of that peach scent he associated with his fantasies of her.

  She brushed her lips against his lacerated cheeks. There was not a mark on her flesh, though. She was perfect.

  Blair fumbled to remove Luke’s clothes, growing more impatient, almost angry, and the cooing abated, which left Luke with a stark sense of loss. The boy shed his clothes, and the girl relaxed, resuming her soothing coo.

  She kissed him, and Luke lost himself in a brew of new sensations, unsure of the details of what transpired between them. The blissful state segued into sleep, and when Luke awoke the girl was gone.

  Shaken, elated, confused, smitten ... Luke dressed and stepped outside, eager to find Blair, to hold her, to kiss her again. But Luke was immediately surrounded by a pack of his male classmates—naked, crouching like monkeys and snarling at him, their eyes wild, violent. They blocked his every attempt at moving away. Even more shocking to Luke was that his friend Ben was among the pack. Ben had made it to the Moon after all, but why had he joined the others against him? Luke whispered, “Ben?” but his friend bared his teeth at him. Beyond, Luke could see that all the other boys were naked, too, roving the camp grounds on all fours, like wild beasts.

  Soon, Montague Farmer, in the same feral state as the others, approached the pack that surrounded Luke. They deferred to Montague. Unlike the others, who were no smaller or larger than they’d been on Earth, Montague had grown to nearly double his usual height and girth. Montague was now in all ways the alpha he’d arrogantly strutted around as back home.

  Where were all the girls?, Luke wondered, as he avoided Montague’s hateful glare. Scanning the horizon, a mass of pinkness caught his gaze. On a rocky shelf overlooking the camp, the girls had gathered, naked, their various limbs lazily entwined. They looked down at the scattered wild boys with amused superiority. Blair was among them, but her skin no longer shone with the hues of the Moon.

  Montague growled, seizing Luke’s attention.

  The two boys stared at each other. Luke was terrified of the violence that was threatening to erupt at any moment, but he refused to let his fear show; he didn’t flinch even a smidgen from Montague’s glare. While the two boys were locked in that stalemate, all the other feral boys gathered around them in concentric circles.

  From afar, the congregation of girls laughed mockingly. Montague cringed at the derision and shrank back to normal size. He cowered away and the feral pack scattered. The girls laughed even louder.

  Luke spent the next several hours wandering around, examining the strange vegetation that grew on lunar soil. The other boys still ran around naked and feral, but they stopped harassing him. Luke yearned to seek out Blair, but the gathering of girls intimidated him too much, and he kept to himself until he grew tired enough to slink back into his tent. Sleep never did come and, although he pined for her in silence, neither did Blair.

  Luke stepped outside frustrated and disappointed. He heard snoring from the nearby tents; no-one else was out and about. Everyone was sleeping. Luke gathered his gear, and, having had enough, set off for the moonbridge.

  He barely noticed the trek back, although it did seem to take quite a long time, but he no longer cared.

  The next day at school, Luke didn’t feel like speaking to Blair or Benjamin or anyone else. He considered talking to Mr. Saint-Michael about his experiences on the Moon, but the teacher’s affected mannerisms now struck Luke as smug and ridiculous. Mr. Saint-Michael was the same as ever, though, Luke knew. It was himself who had changed and not his former mentor.

  Luke kept to himself until school gave out for summer. Blair never gave him another look. Benjamin tried to hang out with him, but Luke avoided him.

  For his next year, his graduating year, Luke transferred to another school. It was thirty years before he saw anyone from Prettygood Park High School again.

  A few minutes before midnight, on the first day of autumn 2012, Luke sat at a hotel bar near Bloor and Spadina, not paying attention to anyone around him; he was in town for the Toronto International Film Festival. None of the films he’d seen that day were any good. Before going up to his room, he’d decided to order a hot toddy to soothe himself to sleep. The guy to his right blurted out, “Luke? Luke Fort?”

  “Yeah,” Luke said absent-mindedly. He turned, but then was shocked to recognize his old friend Benjamin House, albeit somewhat balder and greyer.

  They shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, gabbed about cinema, and talked about their recent divorces. Luke grew bored with that conversation, though. Remembering the last time he’d spoken to Ben, he said, “Hey, sorry to change the subject, but that Moon trip, back in high school—that was too weird and creepy. What the hell happened to you up there, man?”

  Ben looked puzzled. “What do you mean? It was the most boring thing ever. The portal jumped us instantly from Montreal to the Moon. Then, there was nothing up there but dusty rocks. No-one spoke to anybody. We just sat around the fire, bored out of our skulls. I thought the thing was supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime. Anyway. I tried to find you; I hoped you’d be proud that I’d made it after all, but where were you?” Resentment crept into Ben’s voice. “You weren’t with any of the others. I know you went up. I saw you go through the portal from where I was hiding, trying to muster my courage to confront that nightmare guardian.”

  Luke hesitated, then said, “That’s what you remember?”

  Ben nodded and took another sip of his drink, obviously trying to find a way to end the encounter graciously.

  In his mind, Luke tried to reconcile Ben’s story with his memories, but gave up and downed the rest of his hot toddy. “Listen, Benjamin, it was great to see you again, but I’ve got to be at a press conference at eight tomorrow morning. Here’s my card. Stay in touch, okay? We shouldn’t let another thirty years go by.” Luke tried but failed to keep the insincerity from his voice.

  Ben’s tone was curt and dismissive: “Absolutely, Tofu. Good night.”
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  But Luke didn’t leave. He sat there, unmoving and silent. Through the tall tinted windows, the Moon had captured his gaze and refused to let go of his imagination.

  THE BURIED MOON

  By Marie Bilodeau

  Rachel woke up, her gasp filling the cave. She reached out, but Max was no longer beside her. Darkness filled the cave; night had fallen.

  She grabbed her pants and jumped up, hopping into the first pant leg and negotiating the second with a single hand as she grabbed her shirt and slipped it over her head. She scraped her arm trying to get both boots on at once and she hurled insults at the rock.

  “You trying to kill yourself?” Max asked as he strode in with an armful of scraggly birch logs.

  “Damn it, Max. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You’re pretty when you sleep?”

  “It’s the new moon. I should be with Jenny!”

  “Seriously? She’s twelve. Is she that scared of the dark? She can take care of herself.”

  “Not tonight she can’t,” she mumbled as she pulled her flashlight from her pack and pushed aside the bushes that covered the cave, a hideaway from the eyes and tongues of her minute village.

  Max stumbled behind her, her urgency kindling his speed.

  She tripped over a root and forced herself to go slower. She wouldn’t be of any use to Jenny if she cracked her head open in the thick forest.

  She pushed branches and let them swing back, too harried to warn Max, who mumbled behind her. Still, he kept up. The flashlight beam bounced ineffectively before them. Rachel barely remembered to use it to ensure her own path was clear, resulting in her tumbling and falling several times. She pushed on, not brushing the dirt from her jeans or worrying about her scraped knee.

  “Would you slow down?” Max cried after her. She answered by going faster, until she had reached her destination. Max stopped short behind her, out of breath.

  Jutting out of the ground like a crooked stump, her small house stood silent in the dark landscape of the moonless night, lit by the faraway street light—the only one her village boasted.

  She walked through the backyard and through her small garden, knocking some of the precious tomatoes that, once canned, would feed them through the harsh winter months.

  Rachel didn’t slow, nor did she tell Max to be careful where he stepped. Surviving the winter months hardly seemed to matter, now.

  She cracked open the back door. It was unlocked. Jenny always locked it.

  She bit her lower lip and stepped in, wishing she had more than a flashlight to fight with. Max followed close, whether to protect her or to be protected by her, she wasn’t sure. He was a nice enough lover and had been great company for the two months since he had arrived in her village on a research project, but they’d never had the opportunity to discuss latent fighting abilities.

  Hearing his ragged breath behind her, his frame leaner than hers and his arms as thin as sapling branches, she somehow doubted he was an expert boxer in disguise.

  “Where’s the light switch?” Max whispered beside her, his warm breath making her jump.

  “We don’t have any. House too old.”

  “Jenny?” Rachel called out tentatively. The creak of floorboards under her feet was her only answer. She took a deep breath and rounded the corner, toward their living room that doubled as a shared bedroom. She flashed the beam of light around madly, to illuminate every corner in case something lay in waiting. No flash of eyes greeted the beam. She let her breath out, which turned into a hiss as she took in the state of the room. Their beds were turned aside, and their shared winter blanket, knitted by their grandmother before she had passed and left them all alone, had been ripped.

  Rachel knelt beside it and took it in her hands, the wool coarse and thick. She brought it to her cheek and burrowed her face into the scratchy fabric to hide her tears. A hint of vanilla and cinnamon still clung to it, the same as her grandmother’s favourite perfume, even though she had been gone for almost five years and the blanket had often been beaten in the river since.

  She had promised her grandmother she would always watch over Jenny. That she would never leave her on the dark nights, the moonless nights and that, some day, she would find a way to leave the land of their ancestors, to a safer place.

  Far away.

  “Should I call the police?” Max asked, his voice thin.

  Rachel pulled her face from the blanket, but still rested her cheek on it. “We don’t have a phone,” she answered numbly.

  She thought of Jenny, trapped and screaming... “And what would they do? Seriously? Would they come over here and save her? They wouldn’t! They don’t even know how!”

  “What do you mean? They’re the police! It’s their job to stop thugs who steal little girls!”

  He paused and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You know who did this, don’t you?”

  She made a conscious effort to stop biting her lower lip before she pierced her skin with her teeth. Gently, she folded the blanket and laid it on Jenny’s bed, cozied up next to hers.

  “Rachel? I know you probably think of me as more than useless, studying lichen and all while you’re just trying to survive, but...” he paused and looked down. “I really want to help you. And Jenny.” He looked back up. “Won’t you please trust me?”

  Rachel gave him a thin smile. “Are you good with any weapons?”

  To his credit, he pondered the question. “I took fencing in undergrad for a year. ... are we going to beat someone up?”

  She shrugged. “Depends. Do you think you can use those moves with a shovel? It’s the best I’ve got.”

  He nodded, though she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She grabbed a shovel for him, a rake for herself. Poor weapons, but still the best they had.

  He held the shovel awkwardly. “So, um, where are we going?”

  “To the edge of town. The bogs. They’ll take her there.”

  “Who? Why would any one take her there?”

  She didn’t look at him as she answered. “Frightened people, Max.” People bargaining for safe passage in the bogs. She handed him Jenny’s flashlight. Batteries were their one big expense. Light was their lifeline. Her throat closed.

  Jenny was out there, somewhere, without any light.

  Without any hope.

  Jenny cried, but her cries were muffled by the waters. The bogs were thick with dirt and years of slime, and they all slid down her throat as she screamed. She pushed and kicked, her legs heavy under the silt, her nightgown riding up, her struggles cut short by the bogles’ tentacles wrapping around her thin waist and pulling her down, pinning her arms.

  One large kick and she was up for a moment. For just a moment, and even in the darkness she could see the crawlers all around her, with the legs of centipedes, the tail and pincers of a scorpion and the round body of a spider. Three crawlers moved in, stinging her face and neck.

  She felt her body grow cold and numb, and the bogles drew her down and she closed her eyes and mouth against the murky waters. All that she could hear was the sound of rock shifting over her.

  The bogs were not far from town, though part of them had been covered by road and houses. They were still there. Rachel could smell them despite the concrete and oil stains.

  She stopped near a house, put her hand on Max’s chest to stop him short. Wide eyes met hers. “I shouldn’t bring you with me. You shouldn’t come.”

  He looked towards the bogs, starting just past the next yard. All of the lights in the houses were out, even though they had power and it wasn’t that late. Rachel suddenly understood who had bargained for their safety.

  “You gave me a shovel,” Max snapped. “It seems to me you need my help if you felt the need to give me a shovel.”

  She looked up at Max as though seeing him for the first time. He’d strolled into town two months ago, studying lichen in the forest nearby. She liked that about him. He didn’t study bogs, so never smelled of them.

  She’d
seen him as a way out, for her and her sister. A scientist had a future. She had just a few months to win his heart, to ensure that when his research was over and he left town, he would take them with her. Away from all of this.

  “I can’t let you do this.” She shook her head at the protest forming on his lips.

  “Um, shovel?”

  “It’s too dangerous, Max. You have no idea what you’re up against.”

  He shrugged. “People who took a little girl. I don’t do heroics, Rachel, but that’s not right.” He paused. “But, the more I know what to expect, the better off we’ll all be.”

  She bit her lower lip again before looking up to meet his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me. No one ever does.”

  “Well, I believed you enough to grab a shovel and follow you.”

  Rachel was surprised to find she could still laugh. She resumed walking towards the bog, slowly, mostly so she could look at the ground before her and not his eyes.

  “Generations ago, the moon strolled down to see what dark creatures lurked in the bogs. The night was dark, the creatures attacked, and she was captured. Villagers saved her.” She paused. He said nothing.

  “She would come down every month, after that, and wander. Once, she came back her, and met a young man. She fell in love. Bore his children.” She took a deep breath. “We’re her descendants. Of the moon. There’s nothing special about us, except the creatures of the bog, still intent on claiming revenge, still try to capture us. That’s why we hide every dark moon. They can’t leave the bogs themselves, but always send someone to find us. Someone terrified.”

  Max piped up. “What do these people expect will happen? By bringing Jenny to the bogs?”