Susan Pfeffer - Shade of the Moon

“Check on her,” Alex said, closing the bus door and beginning the drive out of the parking lot.

Alex worried too much, Jon told himself. The important thing was to get the other claver women and children safely to the buses. Jon told the guard to follow him, and the two of them ran back to the stadium a dozen or more times to rescue them from the chaos.

Eventually Jon was satisfied that the clavers who needed help had made it to the buses. The playing field and the bleachers were filled with bodies, some of them children’s. One of the guards told him the bodies would be sorted, with clavers being taken back to Sexton for burial. The grubs would be thrown into a body pit on the outskirts of town.

“Better than they deserve,” the guard said. “They should all be thrown in, dead or alive.”

Jon didn’t argue. Instead he walked to the locker room and showered. He was filthy with blood and sweat, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, he still felt death all over him.

He finished dressing and walked outside. He was hoping to see Coach or some of his teammates, but they weren’t around. The buses were gone as well.

Jon found a guard. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“A lot of the clavers are staying in town to teach the grubs a lesson,” the guard replied.

“A lesson?” Jon asked, feeling like an idiot. “What kind of lesson?”

The guard laughed. “The kind even grubs won’t forget,” he said. “What happened here? Kid’s play compared to what’s going to happen.”

Jon thought about the bum they hadn’t killed that night. He thought about Coach letting them know they could do whatever they wanted tonight. He thought about clavers and their guns. He thought about Alex telling him to make sure Mom was all right, and now he understood why Alex was worried.

“Do you know White Birch?” he asked, realizing he didn’t. He knew the high school was three miles from where Mom lived, but he had no idea how to get to her apartment. “Broadway. Do you know how to get to Broadway from here?”

“I’d stay off Broadway if I were you,” the guard said.

The market was on Broadway. If Jon got to the market, he’d be able to find Mom’s apartment. “Broadway,” he said. “How do I get there?”

The guard pointed. “It’s about six blocks that way,” he said. “The first traffic light is Broadway. But it’s going to be a jungle. You armed?”

Jon shook his head.

“Stay off Broadway, then,” the guard said. “Walk the side streets, parallel.”

“I’m looking for the clinic,” he said, knowing that was in Mom’s neighborhood. “When I get to Broadway, do I turn right or left?”

“The clinic won’t be open,” the guard said. “It’s Saturday.”

“Please,” Jon said. “Which way?”

“Left,” the guard said. “Clinic’s two or three miles from here. Why not wait for a bus to Sexton? Go to the hospital there.”

“Left on Broadway,” Jon said. “Thanks.”

“Be careful,” the guard said. “The grubs don’t care who they kill.”

Neither do the clavers, Jon thought, but he kept quiet as he began the walk toward Broadway. He turned left a block before the traffic light and ran down the side streets, hearing gunshots and screams only a few yards away. Across Broadway he saw an apartment house burning. Guards stood in front, shooting the grubs as they ran out the door.

Jon couldn’t stop the slaughter. He was caught in a human tornado, with no choice but to run. Only when he reached a small deserted park did he pause to catch his breath. But when he looked up, he saw a man’s body hanging from a tree, mutilated and lynched.

It’s Tyler, Jon thought, but then he told himself it couldn’t possibly be. Tyler’s father was on the town board. No one, not even grubs driven to insanity, would kill Tyler. The body belonged to some other claver separated from guards, from friends, from protectors. He refused to believe it was Tyler.

Jon told himself that even with so many guards in White Birch, enough remained in Sexton to kill any grubs trying to force their way in. Alex would bring Lisa and Gabe home to safety. He could only hope Mom was safe as well.

Fires were burning all around him, but at Mom’s end of town Broadway seemed quiet. Jon walked swiftly to the avenue, stepping around bodies lying in rivulets of blood.

Storefront windows were shattered, with glass everywhere. As Jon passed the market, he saw it had been destroyed. Shelves were knocked over, whatever food there’d been, taken. A bar of soap, he remembered. He’d left a single bar of soap for all the grubs in the neighborhood.

Jon knew where he was now, and he ran the remaining few blocks to Mom’s apartment. Things were quiet, but in front of Mom’s house there were three women’s bodies, their faces slashed to ribbons.

Jon looked long enough to make certain none of them was his mother, then raced into her building. No one had locks in White Birch. Grubs had no need for locks.

“Mom!” he screamed as he flew up the stairs to her apartment. “Mom!”

He burst into her apartment, still yelling at the top of his lungs. “Mom, where are you?”

“Jon!” she cried, rushing into his arms. “Oh, Jonny!”

Jon held his mother as tightly as he could. “You’re all right?” he asked. “No one hurt you?”

Mom broke away. “I hid,” she said. “When we moved here, we figured out the best places to hide. We had drills. Alex made us.”

“He told me to come,” Jon said. “He was worried about you.”

“Is he all right?” Mom asked.

“He’s okay,” Jon said, hoping that was true. Who knew what they did to the drivers when they reached Sexton. “Mom, we’d better get out of here. It’s safe now, but they could come back.”

“I heard screams,” she said. “It was like the tornado. I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Jon said. “Come, Mom. Let’s go.”

“Where?” she asked. “Where can we go? Can we go to Sexton?”

“We’ll go to the clinic,” he said, knowing even in all the madness, his mother wouldn’t be allowed into Sexton. “It’s open today. We’ll be safe there.”

Mom nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll be all right. Oh, Jonny, I was so scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “We’re all okay. Miranda’s safe in the hospital, and Alex took Lisa and Gabe home hours ago. But we’ll be better off in the clinic. Dr. Goldman will know what to do.”

Mom was still shaking, but she followed Jon out of the apartment and down the stairs. There was no protecting her from the sight of the bodies, though. Mom stood in front of them.

“Will they be buried?” she asked. “They had family in Georgia. Will anyone tell their family?”

“No,” Jon said. “They’ll be cremated. No one will tell their family.”

“That could have been me,” she said. “If I’d lived on the first floor.”

“Don’t think about it,” Jon told her. “Let’s go.”

In the five-block walk to the clinic they saw dozens more bodies scattered around. This was a quiet residential neighborhood, Jon thought. If it was this bad here, it must be a hundred times worse a mile or two closer to the high school.

“What happened?” Mom asked. “What started this?”

“It was the soccer match,” he said. “It started there.”

“Soccer,” Mom said. “A war started once because of a soccer match. Did you know that?”

“No, Mom,” Jon said.

Mom sighed. “It was just an excuse,” she said. “People kill for no reason whatsoever. That’s never going to change.”

“Things will get better,” Jon said. “You always say that, Mom.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not saying that ever again.”