MOON FALL (2 page)

"Are we still gonna do the statue?" Paul Pricket whispered,
as he stepped through the sliding glass door of
Winky Addams's
family room into the moonlit night. "I got us a dozen rolls of
pink toilet paper!
Pink!"
He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses
back up his ski-slope nose.

"Shit, man, I dunno." Beano looked at John. "Think your
dad's watching the square tonight?"

John shrugged. ''He's got the night off, but one of his deputies
will be on duty."

''Which one?" Doug asked, digging in his ear. ''Man, I think
I got a piece of candy com stuck in here."

"You're just saying that because you like to eat your own
ear jam," Beano observed

"Eat
me,
Franklin," Doug said, still digging. "So who's on,
Lawson?"

''Cohtek, probably." John rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Knowing him, he'll stay at the station and watch the Black
Widow unless a call comes in, so we're safe."

"Cohtek's favorite place is between a chick's legs," Beano
said, right on cue.

''Between her tits," Paul said, craning his neck for a last
look at the horror hostess's amazing cleavage.

“
God, you're dense, Pricket." Beano underscored his disgust
with a belch that made his Adam's apple waggle.

"It's ten-thirty already." Doug Buckman tapped his watch.
"If it gets much later, all the girls'll be in bed and we won't
get to see anything."

"He's got a point,"
Win
ky
agreed.

"We gotta go
-
"

"Shhh, Buckman, not so loud. You wanna wake up my
parents?"
Winky
glared at him, then looked to John, one eyelid
beginning a nervous dance. '
·
'What do you think we should do
first?"

"Let's go to St. Gruesome's. We can stash the toilet paper
in the bushes by the statue and do it on our way back."

Silently they nodded agreement; then
Winky
led the way
around the perimeter of his darkened house. Then, with soldierly
stealth, they moved along the edge of the orchard until they
reach
ed the apple shed, where they'd stashed their bikes.

''This is gonna be so great," Doug gloated, as he pulled
open the door and flicked on a dim flashlight. The sweet smell
of apples filled the air and he smacked his lips loudly. ''Naked
girls everywhere, getting in bed, showering, washing their panties-
h
ey!" be squawked suddenly. "What the
h
ell are
you
doing here? Lawson!" be hissed, "get your ass in here!"

"Now what?" John muttered
as be pushed past Doug and
saw Greg, still wearing his devil cos
tu
m
e, perched on an apple
crate, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin spreading across his
freckled face. "Shit! What the h
ell do you think you're doing
here?''

"I'm going with you guys," h
e said, nodding toward his red
stingray bike. He gave his brother a coy look. "If you don't
let me, I'll tell Mom you cussed."

"We're not going anyw
here," John said, as calmly as h
e
could.

"Yeah, right. That's why you
all got flashlights and there's
a pair of binoculars in Doug's bike basket."

"You're full of it, Squirt." John forced a smile. "We just
came out for some apples."

"If you don't let me go with you, I'll tell Dad you guys are
gonna t.p. the statue." He pointed at Paul's bulging backpack
waiting near the door. Two pink rolls of tissue poked out of
its open top.

Beano stalked toward Greg, bands out, reaching for the kid's
neck. "I'm gonna teach you-"

"Knock it off!" John stepped in front of Greg and looked
Beano in the eye. ''We either go back in and watch TV all
night, or we take the squirt with us."

"Don't call me Squ-"

John whirled and angrily grabbed Greg's collar. "Be quiet!"
He pulled his little brother forward, then bent so they were
nose to nose. "Okay. You can go with us, but you'll be in deep
shit if Mom and Dad ever find out anything.
Anything!
Now,
swear."

''Cross my heart an
d hope to die." Greg swallowed h
ard.
"Stick a needle in my eye."

"John, we can't take a chance," Winky said. "He's too
young. He might make noise."

"No, I won't!" Greg practically
squealed. "I
swear it. I just
want to do some of the t.p.ing!"

"We're going to St. Gruesome's first," John told him.
“
Where the gargoyles are. You still believe they can fly?"

The boy hesitated. ''Huh-uh. No way." His eyes widened.
"Why are you going
there?"

"To see the naked chicks." Beano leered at him and licked
his lips.

Greg backed up a step. "I thought nobody could get inside."

''My brother and his buddies got in," Beano bragged, as he
walked over to a half
-
filled apple box and extracted a big red
one. He bit into it and chewed loudly. "And now
we're
getting
in." He turned and walked toward Greg. "But you know what
those nuns do to you if they catch you?"

"What?" Greg asked, eyes widening.

"They take your pants down, so you're butt-naked in front
of all those girls, and then they tie you up and whip you until
you cry!"

"No way," Greg murmured, but it was obvious that he
thought it might be true.

"He's telling the truth," John said solemnly. "Remember
Raul? They caught him. He couldn't sit down for a week!"

"Maybe I could watch your bikes or something?" Greg
suggested softly. ''I just want to t.p. I'd puke," he added disparagingly,
''if I had to look at naked girls, anyway."

''Yeah, like you ever seen one, you baby," Beano sneered.

"Are you sure we can trust him?" Winky asked John.

He nodded. "He'll be fine with the bikes."

"I promise, guys." Greg turned on his smile again.

"Okay." John tried to hide his nervousness. He wasn't as
sure of Greg as he pretended-the kid was easy to spook. For
that matter, he himself hadn't even been that hot to go to St
.
Gruesome's tonight, at least, not until his brother almost blew
the whole thing. Now it seemed worth the risk.

Five minutes later, John was in the lead as the six pedaled
hard up Apple Hill Road. He caught the good scents of burnt
pumpkin and wood
smoke in the air. There was no traffic, and
Moonfall, cloistered in mountains, shrouded in their shadows,
was deathly quiet behind the wind in their bicycle spokes.
Silently the boys circled into the town square and left Paul's
backpack hidden near the statue of Jeremiah Moonfall, then
continued on like ghosts in the night.

Originally, they were going to go on foot, following the
stream that led the two miles cross-country from the Addamses
’
place to St. Gruesome's, rather than risk the road. But the
Appleseed Orchard lay in between, and crossing it was risky
because of Bert and Ernie, the Dobermans who roamed the
orchard at night. And to make it worse, when-if-they finally
reached the forest that edged St. Gruesome's property, they
would have had to do some seriously treacherous climbing,
and that would have been time consuming and dangerous in
the dark. It had taken some doing, but in the end, John, backed
by Paul and
Winky
,
had finally convinced Doug and Beano,
who still liked to play soldier, that the road was the only way
to go.

John turned off Apple Hill Road, raising dust with the wheels
of his aging mountain bike. He breathed a sigh of relief as they
cruised across Apple Heaven's parking lot. The store, owned
by St. Gruesome's, was primarily a bakery where the nuns sold
fresh apple everything-pies, cakes, breads, butters, jellies,
jams, and sauces-the same things that all the rest of the
Moonfall stores sold. They also sold "Heavenly Mincemeat
Pies," which Beano, the gourmet of the group, swore were so
good they must have been blessed by God Himself. John
couldn't bring himself even to taste mincemeat. As far as he
was concerned, dark brown glop belonged on the sole of your
shoe, not in a warm pie crust.

They rode behind the store and dismounted, then walked
their bikes up a small rise, then down, carefully skirting the
chain that blocked the private dirt road to the school. John
glanced back toward the main road and was happy to see it
was out of sight. That meant they were, too.

All around them were St. Gruesome's orchards, and beyond
those loomed the pitch-black forest. The old orphanage, onc
e
a monastery, was invisible, hidden behind woods at least a mile
farther down the winding road.

As John stared into the forbidding darkness, fear began nibbling
away at his resolve. The night was utterly still; no birds
sang, no leaves rustled. The only sound was his breathing and
that of his friends. Everything around them seemed to be waiting,
and he began to wonder if the stories about spirits roaming
the land on Halloween night might hold some truth. Overhead,
a night hawk cried and he fought down a shiver.
Think about
the girls, numbnuts!
Sternly, he told himself that his hands were
trembling because of the chill mountain air. When he was half
-
convinced,
he looked at the others. "Hey."

Winky's flashlight bobbed around. "What?"

"No lights."

"Nobody's gonna notice," Beano hissed, turning his
own
,
too.

"We can't chance it."

"But it's too dark to ride without them," Winky protested.

''We walk the bikes."

"John's right," whispered Paul, always the voice of reason.

''Then we might as well just leave 'em here," Beano grunted.

"You're not gonna leave
me
here!" Greg's eyes shone wide
in the moonlight.

"No," John said. "We'll take them with us. We can ride
back-it'll be safe to use the lights coming out."

Winky nodded sagely. "Especially if we need to make a fast
getaway."

Beano forced a belch. ''Okay, let's move. I wanna see some
pussy tonight!"

Tonight the torch would be passed. Freshmen or not, once
word got around, they'd be the kings of Moonfall High, the
rightful heirs to the windows and peepholes of St. Gruesome's.
That's what Beano Franklin kept saying as they s
tum
bled
blindly along the dirt road to St. Gertrude's Home for Girls.
John was sure Beano's bravado was born of sheer terror. He
was also wondering, not for the first time, if Beano's older
brother and his buddies had ever actually come out here. He
was beginning to think Brian Franklin's stories about frustrated
virgins who soaped each other's backs in the showers and
massaged one another in bed were pure and utter bullshit. Right
now, trying not to shiver, he couldn't believe he'd ever bought
such crap.

They had entered the forest about fifteen minutes before, and
that was when a claustrophobic black glove
enfolded them,
shutting out
the last
trace
s
of moonlight. The air, syrup-thick,
barely seeped into John's lungs and his exhalations were equally
difficult. He was light-headed and his legs were rubbery. Something
screeched among the trees and he imagined he heard
leathery wingbeats. If he'd been alone, he'd have turned back
long ago, but in front of his friends and his little brother, he
refused to show a trace of anxiety.

"Look!" whispered Paul. "There's a light!"

Sure enough, when he craned his neck, John spotted a small
glowing rectangle of yellow high between the pine branches.
"We're almost there. We gotta move real quiet now."

Not speaking, watching the single light splinter into a dozen
or so more, they neared the old monastery. The pines thinned,
allowing a stray moonbeam to illuminate the high stone walls
surrounding the buildings. A wrought-iron gate loomed not
twenty feet away, gargoyles crouching on either side. Even in
the dim moonlight the eyes seemed to be watching them, and
John hoped Greg would be okay.

"You hear something?" Paul whispered softly.

"Singing?"
Win
ky asked, as the boys moved their bikes off
the road and parked them in the shadows of a pine grove.

The sounds were soft, feminine, faraway. ''Yeah," John whispered.
''Chanting, maybe."

"It kind of sounds like a mass," murmured Paul, the only
Catholic among them.

''A mess?" snickered Beano.

"A
mass.
Like a death mass, or something."

"Monk music," John whispered. "Do nuns do it, too?"

''Yeah, sure. I mean, I guess." Paul paused and they listened
to the rise and fall of the voices that seemed to be coming from
somewhere behind St. Gruesome's. "It sounds weird, though."

Maybe it was Paul's words, or maybe it was the eerie rise
and fall of the voices, or maybe both, but something made
John's flesh prickle up in goosebumps. "Is Halloween a holy
day, Paul?"

''All Saints' Day
is ... the
day after Halloween." Paul pushed
his glasses up. "But it's not a big deal or anything." His face
gleamed white in the thin moonlight as he gazed around at the
others. ''Maybe we shouldn't go in if they're having a religious
service."

"What're you, Pricket?'' Doug whispered. "Chicken?"

Beano cleared his throat. ''Hey, Pricket, what's black and
white and red and black and white and red?"

Paul rolled his eyes, nervousness forgotten. "Sunburned
nuns."

"Huh
-uh." Beano leered. "Nuns in a blender. Now, quit
being a pussy and let's
go
inside."

Doug, Beano, Winky, and even Paul looked ready to go in,
so John put his h
and on his little brother's shoulder and guided
him over to the bicycles. He felt sorry for the kid, who looked
ready to pee in his pants. John wasn't feeling much braver, but
he gave Greg a confident smile. ''Your job's really important,
Squirt. You have-"

"Don't call me Squirt."

"Shhh. Don't talk ... whisper. Look, you have to stay with
the bikes. If anybody comes along, hide behind the trees and
stay still. Be quiet. After they're gone, alert us by doing a
whippoorwill twice, then count to a hundred slow and do it
again. And don't worry about those stupid gargoyles. They're
just statues. They can't do anything."

The boy nodded, eyes wide. "But what if you don't come
out?"

"We'll be back, Squirt, don't worry." John pulled his flashlight
from his back pocket, then took off his watch and briefly
shined the light on its face. Then he handed both to Greg. ''But
just in case, it's quarter to twelve now. If we're not back by
two, you should go home."

"He'll tell on us," Doug hissed.

"No, he won't," John muttered. He turned back to Greg.
"Can you find your way by yourself? Just follow this road back
to Apple Hill,
then cross
-
make sure you look both ways
-
and
go home. Did you leave your window open when you snuck
out?"

"Sure, but you're coming back, aren't you?" He cast another
nervous glance at the gate.

''Of course we are. We're just making plans in case the nuns
catch us or something, so you won't get in trouble, too."

"Okay."

Greg's voice sounded small and alone to John as he rejoined
his friends. When he to
l
d Greg to leave if they didn't come
back, it was mostly selfish-if Mom and Dad found out they'd
brought the kid out here, he'd be in about a million times as
much trouble as he would if he got caught by himself. But
now, leaving the little booger there by himself, he felt really
guilty. Greg had to be scared spitless.

Beano tugged his jacket sleeve and glared at him, then at
the iron gate made of ornately spiked black rods. The gargoyles
leered down at them, grinning winged dogs, or monkeys, or
something
.
Their stone eyes seemed to glitter. ''It's not locked.
You go first, Lawson."

''Why m
e
? Why not you, for once? Or Doug?" It was a
stupid question. He didn't know why-maybe because his dad
was sheriff or something
-
he always went first. It was kind
of funny that they thought of him as the big, brave leader, when
he secretly knew that even Paul Pricket was braver than him.
All he ever did was go along with whatever scheme Doug and
Beano came up with. Just like
Win
ky
and Paul, he didn't want
to look like a wuss.

"Okay," he heard himself say, as he put his hand on the
latch. He could feel the gargoyles watching him as the gate
creaked on its rusty hinges and began
s
lowly to open. He
shivered as a nightbird screamed over the singin
g
. "Let's go."