Moonlight City Drive Trilogy

“Have a good weekend.” “You do the same,” he answered as he stormed past the motel’s reception desk. “Oh, Mr. Covington … ” He slowed his pace and stopped with his hand on the door handle leading to the parking lot. “I forgot to tell you. A man was here, asking about your Rolls.” He released the door and took a step closer to Cheryl’s counter. “Oh yeah?” “He seemed almost frantic. Like he had been looking for your automobile for a while.” Covington smirked. “Good,” he whispered. Then out loud he said, “Did you tell him anything?” “Heavens no, sir. We pride ourselves in keeping our guests’ comings and goings private. You know, because of the nature of your stays.” “I appreciate that, Cheryl. I’ll see you later.” “Have any plans for the weekend?” she asked, stalling the tall, handsome man from leaving. “Going to the in-laws’. It’s my boy’s birthday. Might take him fishing afterward.” She licked her lips, hoping he would notice the seductive gesture. “Sounds wonderful.” “Thanks for always looking out for me,” he said and pushed through the glass doors. Cheryl rubbed her ankles together to create some friction to redirect the tingling sensation she felt all over her body as she watched him exit the motel’s vestibule. Standing next to his car, Covington rested his hand on the raised wheel well of the Rolls and closed his eyes. “You’re closer than I gave you credit for. At least within such a short amount of time.” “Rose, dear, you can go into Mommy and Daddy’s closet and pick a pretty bracelet, if you want to wear one today.” Rose excitedly galloped through the Covington house, her stocking feet pitter-pattering on the hardwood floors. She flipped the light switch and looked in a low drawer for the jewelry box where her mother kept the costume jewelry. When she couldn’t locate it, she looked higher where her mother stored the more lavish jewelry. Scanning the other items on the shelf, Rose tilted her head in curiosity and reached for the maroon-bound book. The cover felt grainy, and the insignia engraved into the front felt metallic when she ran her fingers over the design. “Rose? Did you find one you want?” “Almost,” she called back to her mother. “Just need one intsy-teensy sec!” Rose opened the book—the weathered and yellow-discolored pages flopped to and fro—and flipped to the blank first page. The pages’ sturdiness had long ago been manhandled out of them, and the edges were crinkled, like they had been submerged in water more than once and left to wind dry. Rose lightly clasped the top corner of the first page and lifted it, hoping the next page would have some cartoons or drawings—those were her favorite to look at. A decrepit and decaying hand reached through the work clothes hanging in the closet and grabbed Rose’s wrist. When Rose screamed, the hand yanked her in, her father’s coveralls colliding with her cheek and nose. She pushed the clothes from her face with her free hand but froze when a pale face, partially visible behind a black lace veil, emerged from the darkness behind the rows of garments. Rose couldn’t see any other part of the witch—for she assumed it was a witch because of the fairy tales her mother would read to her from all the books in her bedroom; the books with the cartoons and drawings—except the white hand and the floating face were suspended in the darkness. was“Drop the book, b***h. That’s mine!” mine“I—I—I can’t. You’re holding my wrist too tight,” she stuttered between terrified sobs. Anya leaned forward, and her veil touched Rose’s nose. “Drop my book now.” The witch’s breath reminded Rose of the fish market where her father would sometimes take her on Saturdays. He would let her pick the fish for the family’s dinner that night, if she promised not to tease her brother about this carte blanche award. Disappearing into those memories soothed her enough to relax her fingers and to let the book drop to the ground. “Rose? Do you need help finding the box?” Her mother’s voice grew louder with each word—closer with each step. “Touch my book again, wench, and I’ll kill you. And you won’t even see me coming.” The old woman released Rose’s wrist, and her dad’s work clothes swayed slightly as the levitating head disappeared into the confines of the closet’s shadows. Maggie entered the bedroom. “What is taking you so long, girl? What are you doing in here?” doingRose turned and sprinted toward her mother—a rotting hand reached out and collected the book, sliding it into the safety of the shadows—and wrapped her arms and legs around Maggie’s thighs. “There’s a witch! A witch, Mommy! Hiding in your closet!” “Oh, fiddlesticks. You know witches and monsters aren’t real. I think I know a little girl who needs a break from Hansel and Gretel.” Hansel and GretelRose tried to get her sniffles under control. “No, no, Mommy. I found Daddy’s purple pyramid book, and she grabbed me from behind the clothes and said she’d kill me.” “That’s enough! I don’t like to hear you say nasty things like that. Do I have to wash your mouth out with soap, young lady?” enough“No, Mommy. I swear. The book is on the floor. Come look,” Rose said, pulling her mother into the closet, like a tug boat hauling a freighter into harbor. Maggie planted her weight and tapped her foot. “I don’t have time for these shenanigans, Rose. See? No book! Now I’ll pick out the prettiest bracelet, and you and Ray wait outside. Daddy should be home any minute, and we’re leaving right away.” Rose fled from the house, impatient to tell her brother about the witch in the closet. Maggie chose a sparkling Bakelite-plastic bangle and shut off the light as she exited. Anya huddled in the corner with the book clenched tight against her chest until she heard the front door close. Then she returned it to its shelf high above anyone’s prying eyes before disappearing back into the nothingness. The Rolls hadn’t even come to a complete stop on Maggie’s parents’ dirt driveway before Rose and Raymond opened the vehicle’s doors. “Grandma!” Rose yelled, running toward the house. “There are my precious buttons,” the woman called from the porch. Maggie collected a luggage bag from the trunk and headed for the house. “What did you pack?” Covington asked. “You know we’re not staying over. I have to be back at work tomorrow night.” “All of Ray’s presents are in this bag.” “All of? How many did you get?” All“Well, I got him the electric train he’s been asking for since Christmas, the erector set he saw inside Ensminger’s Basement at the mall, and a model airplane.” “Can we even afford that much stuff?” “You’re the one who told me that you’re definitely getting a bonus this summer,” she replied as the bag slipped from her grasp and collided with the dirt. “Yeah, but things can change. Just because I told you that I was getting one doesn’t mean something won’t happen between now and then. The dam could decide to cut the bonuses from the budget. You are spending money we don’t have yet.” “You’re right, but I just wanted this birthday to be special. He’s been shortchanged on every birthday so far, and I guess I let guilt get the better of me.” Maggie’s father stepped from the porch steps and reached out to assist with the bag. “Here, let me help you with that.” “Hiya, Dad,” she said and kissed her father on the cheek. “Glad to see you guys. We’ve missed the wee ones. Mom keeps saying we need to spend more time with them.” He extended his free hand to Mr. Covington. “Nice to see you.” “Nice to see you too, sir. Thank you for hosting Ray’s party.” “Our pleasure. It’ll be nice to have the babies here for the day.” “Where did the kids go?” Maggie asked, stepping into the house. “Oh, they’ve already targeted Grandma … and her chocolate chip cookies,” he whispered, like it was some dirty secret. and“And birthday cake,” Maggie’s mother said, entering the room. “Come. I have tea and coffee brewing.” They followed Grandma into the kitchen where the two children were already covered in gooey chocolate chip cookie dough. “Isn’t Grandma the best?” Maggie asked her children. “The bestest best!” Rose answered. Melted chocolate created strings, connecting her upper teeth to her lower row as she talked. “They tastes so sweet!” Maggie’s father turned to Mr. Covington. “How’s work?” “Still there.” “Heard the dam is having some issues and might be shutting down for a while.” Maggie shot her husband a quick accusing glare. Then she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “I haven’t heard anything about that,” Covington replied, more to answer his wife’s silent inquiry than to answer his father-in-law’s question. “Well, the end of the war certainly has guaranteed job security for the factories now making more than just tools and machinery parts. You ever think about considering factory work?” “With all due respect, I enjoy working at the Hoover Dam. I’m proud to be a technician there.” “Aah, that’s right—the Hoover Dam now. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to calling it anything but the Boulder Dam. Well, I heard the Lechner factory is excelling in producing g*n barrels and catapult tubes for aircraft carriers. Might be an automatic pay increase, and you’d be part of a good cause, something that matters—assuring the country remains safe from another evil empire regime.” AahHooverCovington was borderline insulted by his father-in-law’s implication that making war machinery—mundane hooey was how he thought of it—in a factory was more important than monitoring a colossal construct that prevents floods, regulates irrigation, and provides hydroelectric power. “The war changed everything for the best, don’chya think?” “Something like that,” Covington muttered. Maggie steered her husband from the conversation before the two men could escalate a political conversation into fisticuffs and ruin Raymond’s birthday weekend. She wouldn’t let that happen. Not this time. Not again. “Wow, RayRay! You gots a traaaaaiiin!” Rose said, reaching for the box. traaaaaiiin“You can build two different tracks,” Maggie said, adding to the excitement. Raymond squealed and jumped to his feet. “Can I build it now, Mommy?” “Don’t you want to open your other gifts, champ?” “There’s more, Daddy?” more“There sure is.” Maggie gave her husband’s hand a loving thanks-for-understanding squeeze before removing the next wrapped gift from the luggage bag. After all three presents had been revealed, and the children were happily indulging in harmonizing play, the four adults sat at the kitchen table with coffee and tea. The dirty plates, covered in half-eaten birthday cake and smeared frosting, sat stacked in the sink. Covington took a sip of coffee and put down his mug. “Excuse me. I need to use the lavatory.” “Do you want a refill?” Maggie’s mother asked, reaching for the percolator. “No thank you, ma’am,” he answered as he stood, pushed in his chair, and headed for the bathroom. After relieving himself, he collected water from the sink into his cupped hands. When he had pooled enough water, he splashed it on his face and stretched his cheeks downward with his fingertips. He looked into the mirror; a pale graying figure stood behind him. “Hot nuts!” he squeaked and clutched his chest. “You scared the bejesus out of me. You can’t do that to me, Anya.” She placed a decayed and pallid hand on his shoulder. He made eye contact with her reflection in the mirror instead of turning to face her. “I heard you tell Maggie that you work tomorrow night,” she said. “That you had to be back home in time. I hope you weren’t talking about the dam, and, by work, you really meant—” work“I really wish you wouldn’t eavesdrop.” “Oh, sir. We all do it. Not just me. Pum’kin is the most interested in what you have to say, being a new cult bantling and all. I’m just the only one who’s always suspicious about what you tell people when it comes to the mission.” all“Makes me glad they’re not all like you.” “Me too. You know what they say, too many chiefs and not enough Indians.” too many chiefs and notenough Indians“Is that what happened to your husband?” he spat. “Did you off him? Too many chiefs and not enough—” Anya grabbed Covington by the collar of his shirt; the ever-present black veil covering her pale face flailed outward with the inertia of her sudden movement. Her eyes turned from gray to red. “You little s**t. I know this is a love/hate relationship between us, but don’t you ever talk about him again. He died because I couldn’t get to him in time. I was too weak to free myself from their grasps as he burned. I had to watch him burn. Have you ever had to watch a loved one burn to death for something they didn’t do? For lies? For everyone else’s ignorance? He’s the only one I’ve ever loved, and I make sure every dark shadow and blemish I cast on your pathetic version of society are always carried out in his name. The vile and despicable shall never stop feeling my wrath. Monsters and hypocrites are disguised as salvageable knuckleheads. All just pathetic, little sheep-children following the herd. Somedays I have a hard time stomaching the necessity of partnering with the likes of mere mortals; your kind haven’t always been the ideal consorts. I shouldn’t have to handle you with kid gloves or boss you around, but sometimes I feel like if I don’t, you’d be good for nothing. Plus all the offerings you bring me are all so damn stupid,” the pale widow added. “Why can’t we collect the … somewhat bright ones?” everburnstupidHe slapped her hand off his shirt. “Because if they had any sense at all, they wouldn’t be out there staining the very fabric of society, would they? Smart people don’t drain and feed off the public’s morals and well-being. So I’m sorry your servants, the cult I’m helping to build for you, aren’t all rocket scientists and highly learned. We are cleansing. We are exorcising. We are doing society a service. And, in turn, you get your ghouls, or whatever you’re collecting. This tandem agreement of ours”—he waved his index finger quickly back and forth between their chests—“is a perfect symbiosis for cleaning up the streets.” youAnya grabbed his waving finger. “He’ll see the postcard soon, you know? The picture is fading, one item at a time. We’re running out of time, and you’re here, playing Daddy.” hereCovington pinched the bottom of her veil and attempted to lift it off her face. She smacked his hand and growled like wolf. “You touch that again, and I’ll bite off your hand and feed it to the vultures.” Then she smiled to show him her perfectly squared teeth, like a double row of dice, to send the message of how much it would hurt without any sharp points. Covington turned as the doorknob jiggled, and then someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rose’s muffled voice wafted from the other side of the door. “Daddy? I gots to go pee!” “Okay, Rose. I’m coming out,” he answered, glaring at Anya as a cue to leave. “Don’t fail me, or I’ll have to find someone else who’s more well-suited for the job.” “Don’t worry, Anya. We’re a good team. You’ll get your girls. And I’ll get satisfaction that I’m making this world a cleaner place for my kids.” “Daddy! I’m going to pee right here!” here“Okay, sweet pea. I’m coming.” He opened the door, and his daughter barreled past him toward the toilet. “Who were you talking to?” “Nobody, sweetie.” He almost added, I was talking to myself, but decided against it. He wasn’t so sure what kind of demon he spoke to anymore. I was talking to myself