(FREE TO READ) Bad Moon

chapter 40; Leo

Plunk.

Matthew followed the bend of the hallway, his heavy boots knocking against the hardwood. Everything was different when this place was empty. Even when no one was around, it felt like the halls were filled with ghosts.

Plunk.

That sound woke him from the guest bed he'd slept in. What'd it matter when the sun was just over the horizon, anyway? He'd get a head start on the gardenin' bullshit and whatever else Lisa needed.

Plunk.

Gardening. That was where his talent went to use. Gardening. He was the sheriff's kid; he could load a pistol with his eyes shut. But why bother with guns when ya got dirt and cow shit.

Plunk.

He followed that sound through Lisa's hummingbird door, to the garden, just grazed by the waking sun. There Tisper stood, her bow in her hands, her shorts rolled on one thigh and not the other, her hair tied back in a sloppy bun. Had she even slept?

"You should take a break," Matt said.

"Not yet," she replied, firing once more with a plunk.

"You're gonna wear yourself out."

She cut the distance to her target, picking the bludgeoned rose from the tip of her training arrow. Then finally, Tisper looked to him and smiled. "I keep missing every sixth one."

Dammit that smile. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're doin' great."

"Where's Sadie?" Tisper asked, sticking a new rose into the center of the board; dozens of the broken flowers laid wasted at her feet, crushed underfoot as she stepped back to cock the arrow into place.

"Still playin' Blair Witch with Alex." Matt admired her form. She had to of been practicing since the crack of dawn. He'd watched her from the window earlier that night and something was different now. She stood with so much confidence. "Really, Tis. You're getting good at this."

"I'm shooting a wall, Matt. I'm not really sure you can be bad at this."

Matthew bit his tongue, watching her calloused fingers slide into position. "Maybe you should take a break. Just for a minute. Let's go inside, have some coffee."

She lifted the bow to her eye-level like the gesture had become organic. An extension of herself. He thought it strange that the crossbow didn't have a scope, but he supposed it didn't need one.

Tisper tilted it upward at the last second and pulled the trigger. The arrow sailed, split right through the rose on the canvas, and as she lowered the bow again, she heaved a bothersome sigh.

"It's not good enough. I can't hit a moving object like this."

"Oh, come on." Matt slung an arm around her shoulders and Tisper set her crossbow on the ground, for once stumbling willingly into his side. "You'll keep practicing, you'll get better."

"We don't have time," Tisper said. She pointed to the sky—to the eerie orange moon above; round, but still sliced with the crescent of a waning shadow. "I looked it up. That's a waxing gibbous. In means the full moon is on its way and once it comes, we're screwed, Matt. Jay turns. He turns into that—that thing we saw on paper. What do we do after that? How do we save him then? How do we even know he's still alive?"

"He's alive," a voice came from the door and Matt turned, dropped his arm from around Tisper's chilly shoulders. Quentin was bounding down the steps in joggers and not much else but a layer of sheening sweat. He'd either been workin' out or sitting in a sauna.