Raven Stole the Moon

  David thanked the dog spirit for giving him a vision in the night, and he danced around the last embers of the fire to show the dog spirit that his help was appreciated. He vowed to pay proper homage to the dog spirit when he finished his journey. Then David set off into the woods.

  The path was there. The berry bushes were as he had seen them in his dream. And soon David stood at the stream with the hollow. He had arrived at the home of the kushtaka.

  David was sure that the kushtaka knew he was looking for them. The fire burning back at his house would alert them that something was going on. A fire that burned for many days was a way to give light to the path of someone who has ventured into the other world. Still, the kushtaka would not know David had already found them. He had made himself invisible by having no thoughts or judgments about the world around him. The kushtaka can see into a man’s mind, find his fears, and play into them. But if you have no thoughts to read, the kushtaka do not know you are there until they have seen you.

  David stepped into the stream and lifted the grasses that covered the hollow. A small hole disappeared into the dark soil. The opening was very narrow, and David could barely crawl on his knees and elbows. He carried a knife in one hand and a small flashlight in the other; he tied his backpack to his ankle to drag behind him. He knew the backpack could slow up his retreat if he ran into trouble, but he might need some of the things that were inside. Headfirst, he worked his way into the hollow.

  The soil was damp and the rotten smell in the narrow passage was almost overpowering. David could hardly breathe. Once fully inside the tunnel, David felt trapped. He was much larger than an otter and the tunnel was very tight. It took all of his will not to have a panic attack.

  Finally, after what seemed like an interminable distance but was really only about twenty feet, the tunnel opened up into a larger passage. Now David could crawl along comfortably, and his travel was much faster. The air was thick and heavy and smelled slightly chemical. After another twenty or thirty feet, the tunnel seemed to stop. David scanned the walls with his flashlight. Damn, a dead end. He didn’t want to have to back all the way out.

  Then he noticed that there was a hole in the floor at the end of the tunnel. He looked closer. The tunnel didn’t end; it turned sharply downward. Shining his flashlight through the hole, David could see that after a little elbow-shaped bend, the tunnel opened out into a room. He forced himself into the hole, which was very tight, and managed to pull himself through the other side, dropping down into a large open space.

  It was a relief finally to stand. The room was about six feet high, and large enough that he couldn’t see the walls. As David shined his flashlight around, he noticed that there was furniture in the room. Old sofas and chairs and coffee tables. It must have been furniture stolen by the kushtaka from backyards and garbage dumps. David figured that there had to be another way in. They never could have gotten a sofa through the tunnel he had navigated. Before he began moving about, David pushed one of the chairs up against the wall underneath the tunnel. There were other holes in the walls and ceilings, and David wanted to be sure he would know which one led to the surface.

  David hoped he would find Jenna here, alone and unprotected, but the room was empty of life. From what he remembered, the kushtaka kept new converts isolated in the den until they were strong enough to go out scavenging with the others. But there was no sign of Jenna. David would have to begin exploring the network of dens by picking a hole and crawling down it, something he was not looking forward to doing.

  But then he heard a movement and he felt a presence. There was someone in the room with him, but it was only a shadow. He swung around and panned his light across the walls, but he could see nothing. He felt it, though. He knew it. There was something there, and even though he couldn’t see what it was, it could see him, he knew. He wasn’t sure what to do. He could run. Maybe the dark end of the room led somewhere. He could make a break for the tunnel he had already used. But the kushtaka would be much faster than he was. Or he could face his host. He chose the last option.

  “I am here to pay my respects to the kushtaka shaman,” he said, still panning his flashlight around the room.

  There was no response, only the sound of something moving and the feeling of a cool breeze.

  “I am here for the woman you have adopted. I have to take her back to her home.”

  Still, nothing. David tried to maintain his calm, but he was getting very nervous and afraid. As he passed his light across the wall one more time, he saw a shape. It was a person. He took a couple of steps closer, keeping his light on it, trying to make out who or what it could be. He could see the shape of a woman. She was naked, covered with fur. Her face had changed, but he still recognized her.

  “Jenna?”

  “Have you come for me?” she asked. Her voice was deep and melodic. David felt drawn to her.

  “I’m taking you back.”

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  She looked so strong, David thought. Her body was firm and lean, and the fur that covered her seemed so sensual. David wanted to touch her. But she moved suddenly and was gone. David had lost sight of her. And then he sensed her behind him. He spun around.

  “We need to go,” he said. “They’ll come back.”

  “I don’t want to go. I like it here.” Her voice. Something about it. Something irresistible. David took a step toward her. She smiled. “You’ll like it, too.” He felt her touch him. Her hands on his chest. They were soft.

  He had to take her back. She was close, right there in front of him. He reached out to grab her, but she slipped away and disappeared.

  David spun around, confused. Where did she go? Again, she was behind him. Her hands, so soft, touching him. Her body, pressed up against his back so he could feel the soft fur; it felt good and he relaxed. “That’s good,” she said quietly into his ear. Her voice was so sweet and soothing. Her hands were so soft; they ran across his stomach and encircled him and he was feeling so sleepy, so tired he wanted to fall into her arms and sleep. “This feels good, doesn’t it,” she whispered and it sounded like she was inside his head with her musical voice, so soft, and he desired her, he felt a stirring as her hands continued to caress him, he could feel her wrap her legs around his and he wanted her, he needed her. “It’s okay,” she said, “you can, you can.” He turned to face her and she arched and squirmed like a cat, an animal, her little feet getting a grip on his thighs, her legs so short but soft and nice and her hands, with their soft pads that felt so good touching his face and kissing him with her long tongue that explored his mouth he felt so good being explored by her, her tail, the soft fur that felt between his legs and stroked him there while her voice crawled through his brain and soothed him and read his thoughts and knew what he wanted, what he really wanted, was her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her and was ready, he held her tight, hugged her tight and she suddenly shrieked and went rigid, scrambling and writhing to get away from him, pushing to free herself and shrieking with an animal’s scream, in pain, she was in pain. David released her and she fell to the ground in a heap. She was still screaming, and he saw that she was an animal, a large furry animal. But why had she shrieked and rejected him like that? David struggled to clear his mind. He had been seduced by her and she had almost succeeded. But what had stopped her?

  It was his knife. The knife in his hand had touched her and broken the spell. David was in control of himself again. He remembered why he was there. He had to take her away and save her. But there was only one way, he knew. Only one way he could break the spell she was under. She must drink human blood.

  He took the knife and drew it across the palm of his hand, opening a terrible gash. The blood began to flow freely from his wound and he knelt to Jenna, still writhing on the ground, and held her tightly, covering her mouth with his bleeding hand. She struggled against her new pain. But as the blood flowed into her mouth, she became weaker, unable to fight, until finally, she dra
nk of her own will, lapping at the life that David held to her mouth.

  EDDIE AND ROBERT had an uncomfortable night. The strange man, the kushtaka, had stood outside smiling in at them, keeping them awake throughout, finally disappearing sometime before dawn, though neither Robert nor Eddie saw him go.

  As the morning sun streamed in the southern windows, Robert looked out at the quiet woods and finally felt safe within the house.

  “It’s so peaceful out there,” Robert said to Eddie, who was tending the fire. “It makes you think maybe it never happened.”

  “It happened.”

  Robert looked over to Eddie.

  “It did happen, right? It wasn’t some kind of mass hysteria or something?”

  “Mass hysteria doesn’t have teeth,” Eddie said.

  Robert looked down at Eddie’s leg.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Eddie cooked a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, and toast. Robert set the table, and he had to laugh. Jenna loved eggs but hated to cook them. Robert didn’t mind cooking, but he was supremely untalented at it and his eggs always seemed to come out wrong. Jenna and Robert’s compromise: go to a restaurant.

  “I can never get them right,” Robert offered, watching the yellow yolk seep out of the puncture he made with his fork.

  “Get what right?”

  “Eggs. They’re always too hard or too soft or I break the yolk or I make them too greasy.”

  Eddie shrugged and ate his eggs. Robert looked down and pushed the bacon around on his plate. He sighed.

  “Back when I first met Jenna, I could make the shittiest eggs in the world and she loved them. Or she pretended she loved them. When you’re new with someone, you tend to see everything they do as great. It’s only after you’ve been with them for a few years that the little things start to bug you.”

  Robert watched the runny yolk gather underneath a strip of bacon. He tore off a piece of toast and dipped it in the yolk, but he didn’t eat it. He had lost his appetite.

  “Is she coming back?” he asked Eddie.

  Eddie stopped eating. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve been asking that question for two years. Is she coming back?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We almost broke up after Bobby died.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. We both took it pretty hard, but Jenna took it harder, I guess. We talked about divorce a couple of times.”

  “Why did you stay together?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we always figured if we tried hard enough we could get back to where we were. Besides, Jenna wouldn’t have survived a divorce, I don’t think. She was drinking a lot and taking pills. And then she tried to commit suicide.”

  Robert looked up at Eddie, who had put his fork down and was watching him closely.

  “Did she tell you any of this?”

  Eddie shook his head. “No.”

  “I guess you know a whole different Jenna than I know,” Robert said.

  “Different?”

  “You probably got to see the good Jenna. Happy, cheerful, fun to be with.”

  Eddie laughed to himself and nodded.

  “You’re lucky. I haven’t seen that side of her in two years.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, neither of them eating or speaking, their eggs and coffee getting cold.

  “Why did she try to kill herself?”

  “I don’t know,” Robert answered after some thought. “I guess she blamed herself for Bobby’s death.”

  Eddie shook his head sadly, and Robert realized he was being unfair. Robert knew why Jenna had tried to commit suicide, and it had nothing to do with her blaming herself. Robert had to tell Eddie the truth, so Eddie would know and not pity Jenna. It wasn’t fair for Robert to make Eddie pity her. If Eddie felt something for Jenna, he had to know.

  “That’s not true,” Robert corrected himself. “She didn’t do it because she blamed herself. She did it because I blamed her. And we stayed together because I wanted to prove to her that I didn’t blame her.”

  Robert paused.

  “Did you ever tell her that?” Eddie asked.

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Robert looked up.

  “If you’ve never lost someone like that, suddenly, unexpectedly, then I don’t think you could ever know,” Robert said. “You go over it and over it, trying to figure it out. What did you do? What didn’t you do? What could you have done differently? It’s like there are all these little switches, and somehow they all got switched in a way that you got the bad result. But if one switch doesn’t get thrown, if one little thing is different, then none of it happens. Then nobody dies. But someone threw that one switch.”

  “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. And you know what? Those are the same people who say things like drowning is a peaceful way to die. And I guarantee you, none of them have ever drowned.”

  After a moment of silence, Robert stood up.

  “Are you finished?”

  Eddie nodded and Robert stacked their plates together. He carried them into the kitchen and turned on the water in the sink. Eddie followed him and stood in the doorway.

  “And now Jenna’s gone,” Robert said, scraping off the remnants of eggs and toast into the garbage, rinsing the plates under the warm water. “She’s gone and she may not come back. And then what do I do? Then who do I blame?”

  “You could blame me,” Eddie joked.

  Robert laughed, but on the edge of the laugh was sadness and resignation. It made his laugh jagged and rough.

  “She’ll be back. Don’t worry. David will find her.”

  Robert nodded, letting the warm water flow over his hands.

  “From your mouth to God’s ear.”

  FINALLY, AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES, Jenna slumped to the dirt floor in a heap. She was drained of energy. Her body was confused. It was between states now. David knew he had only a limited amount of time to get her away, get her out from under the influence of the kushtaka. If they were to return, she would surely fall back into their power.

  David quickly searched the room. This was not the real kushtaka den. They would never tolerate this many human objects in their quarters. Sofas and chairs. Against a wall was a dresser. This was the room where they first brought humans. The furnishings were supposed to comfort people, make them feel at home until the conversion was complete. David opened the dresser. Inside were clothes. Clothes taken from their converts. Clothes used by the kushtaka in their human forms. The kushtaka could change shape, but they couldn’t manufacture clothing. They had to steal what they wore.

  David froze. He could hear movement. It was somewhere else, in another part of the den, but he could hear them. They were back. There was no more time. He grabbed some jeans and a work shirt for Jenna and dressed her as she lay in a semiconscious state. Then he pulled Jenna to a sitting position and lightly slapped her face. She roused.

  “Jenna, we have to go.”

  She tried to shake off her delirium, but she was so tired.

  “Jenna. It’s vital that we leave right now.”

  He slapped her harder and she focused on him.

  “Are you with me? We need to leave now.”

  She nodded. David helped her to her feet.

  “You have to follow me. Can you do it?”

  Jenna nodded. She felt so weak, like someone had taken all of the bones out of her body. David sensed he wasn’t getting through. He grabbed her hand and squeezed hard, so hard that he thought he heard crunching. The pain snapped Jenna to.

  “Jenna, listen to me. We have one chance, and that chance is now. You have to shake it off and follow me as fast as you can. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Yes. A word. Speech. David was relieved to know he had gotten through to her. He looked for the chair he had pushed against the wall under the entrance tunnel. It wasn’t there. He shined his
flashlight around and found it, lying on its side, not under any particular tunnel. They must have knocked it over during their struggle. That was a problem. Now he didn’t know which tunnel led to the surface.

  The sounds of the kushtaka were intensifying. He didn’t know if the kushtaka had sensed them yet, but they were on their way nonetheless. Jenna and David had to get out. He picked a tunnel at random and shoved a chair underneath it. He climbed up on the chair and hoisted himself into the tunnel, praying that Jenna would be able to follow him.

  David burrowed through the narrow passage, pausing only momentarily until he heard Jenna behind him.

  “You there?” he called out.

  “I’m here.”

  The tunnel grew narrower and narrower as David worked his way along. It felt almost as if he were being squeezed through a toothpaste tube. He was concerned that they weren’t in the right tunnel. This one felt much smaller than the first. What if he had made a mistake and this was a dead end? What if he got trapped in it? Wedged tightly in the damp earth. They could come up behind him and kill him slowly by eating away at his feet and legs. He wouldn’t die right away. They would work their way up, nibble, nibble, until they had eaten away his genitals, torn open his intestines, clawed through the inside of his body and left his hollow, fleshy shell stuck to the sides of the tunnel. He paused.

  “Still with me?”

  A moment passed. What if she couldn’t keep up?

  “Here,” he heard Jenna call out faintly. She was pretty far back. He would have to slow down.

  It seemed to take forever. David’s fingernails felt like they were being torn out from all the clawing. The walls of the tunnel were wet and musty; the air was thick. He was feeling claustrophobic. He had to maintain his concentration. That would be the only way he could keep calm and get them out.

  Finally he reached the end of the tunnel, but it wasn’t where he had hoped to be. He pulled himself through the hole, but instead of being outside near the bank of the river, he was in another chamber. It was a smaller chamber than the first, and it was empty. Maybe it was an abandoned food storage room, or a small den for a kushtaka family. He didn’t know. He hoped there was another tunnel on the other side of the room that they could try. He didn’t want to backtrack.