by James, Matt
DEAD MOON: NIGHTMARE AT THE MUSEUM (A Short Story)
By Matt James
Description:
This action-packed short story stars Jillian Moon, recapping her initial encounter with the Unseen inside New York’s Museum of Natural History, an event that occurs during book one of the DEAD MOON series, NIGHTMARES ARE BORN.
If you haven’t read the first book in this ongoing series, STOP NOW!!! Spoilers ahead!
ALSO BY MATT JAMES
Stand-Alone Titles
The Dragon
Broken Glass
Dark Island
Sub-Zero (Coming Soon)
Dead Moon Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thrillers
Dead Moon: Nightmares are Born
Dead Moon: Home Sweet Hell
Dead Moon: Song of Sorrow (Coming Soon)
Dead Moon Short Stories
Dead Moon: Nightmare at the Museum
Dead Moon: Scared to Death (Coming Soon)
Dane Maddock Adventures w/ David Wood
Berserk
Skin and Bones
Venom
Hank Boyd Adventures
Blood and Sand
Mayan Darkness
Babel Found
Elixir of Life
Hank Boyd Origins
The Cursed Pharaoh
Logan Reed Thrillers
Plague
Evolve
RECOMMENDED READING ORDER
(INCLUDING SHORT STORIES)
Dead Moon: Nightmares are Born
Dead Moon: Nightmare at the Museum
Dead Moon: Home Sweet Hell
Dead Moon: Scared to Death (Coming Soon)
Dead Moon: Song of Sorrow (Coming Soon)
1
“What a selfish prick!”
Jillian Moon completely agreed with Carla. Jill had broken the news to her first when Frank had refused to join her for the function inside New York's famed Museum of Natural History. Naturally, Carla jumped at the opportunity to go to the fancy dinner and had gotten ready in minutes.
He really is a prick, isn’t he? Jill thought, stewing.
Blinking away her rising anger, Jill turned her angst toward the pompous asshole on stage, instead of her husband. As the individual who had organized tonight’s festivities, Jill figured she’d get a little recognition for her months of hard work. She had even prepared a short speech thanking those that had helped over the last couple of months.
I guess not.
Upon entering the museum, Richard Pace had immediately taken all of her well-deserved credit, something he regularly did back at the office. Everyone that worked under “Dick Face” hated him.
Jill loved the nickname most. She coined it after all.
Richard Pace turned into, Dick Pace.
Dick Pace, then, effortlessly morphed into Dick Face.
Dick didn’t used to be always be such a dick, actually. It was only after he got his last name added to the firm’s title that his head blew up. Sometimes, Jill wished his head really would explode. She imagined it filling with helium and lifting his scrawny body high into the sky.
Then, POP!
The charity function was set up inside the awe-inspiring Milstein Hall of Ocean Life. The stage on which Dick was delivering his longwinded speech was situated directly under a majestic, ninety-four-foot blue whale that was suspended from the large, square room’s ceiling. Jill had no idea how they did it.
Then again, I’m not an engineer.
No, Jill was a trial lawyer—a damn good one too. Unfortunately, the firm she worked for had an all-male hierarchy, most of whom treated her like shit.
But, boy, do they pay well! She frowned. Does that make me a sell out?
Frank despised the fact that she willingly worked for a group of wealthy, egotistical misogynists. It was one of the only things Frank and Jill agreed on lately. She hated it at her office, but the money was too good to pass up. But, like a knight in shining armor…with a five o’clock shadow and a tendency to piss her off…Frank would undoubtedly always come to the rescue.
Jill bit her lip. But not tonight…
“Damn you, Frank.”
She must’ve cursed her husband’s name a little too loudly because Dick stuttered mid-sentence and said, “shhshit,” instead of “situation.” With a venomous glare, he glanced over his shoulder at her.
Jill was seated on stage next to the representatives of the museum and the charity group, just behind Dick’s right shoulder. It was as front and as center as she knew she’d ever get while Dick was around.
The lighting on stage was such that she could only see the first four circular tables. Carla D’Angelo, her cousin-in-law and Vinny’s wife, was seated right up front and was currently giving Jill a gratuitous blowjob gesture. Mouth and all. Dick must’ve seen it too because he, once more, fumbled his words during his rambling speech.
It wasn’t even a speech in a sense. It all about him stroking his narcissism more than anything else.
She sneered. Like a monkey going to town on himself. Frank had rubbed off on her over the years, especially his sense of humor. In private, Jill had a lewd, potty mouth. But in public, she was an entirely different person.
Another thing Frank hates about me working where I do.
He was constantly bitching and moaning about her never being able to be herself, and that bottling up the “real Jillian Moon” wasn’t healthy for anyone—particularly him.
Jill rolled her eyes just as Dick gave her another dirty look.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Great timing, Jill.
For her part, Jill turned a poorly timed shituation into a fun one and grinned. Yes, Dick could make her life a living hell, but no, he couldn’t fire her, that wasn’t up to him. The primary partner at the firm, Manny Gerrard, was the one who brought her into the fold. It was his decision alone to hire and fire any of his attorneys. It was a unique way of doing things, but it was successful. Their firm was one of the most renowned in Manhattan.
Gerrard, Wendel, Houston, McCormick, & Pace was a powerhouse in the world of law.
Movement above Jill’s head caught her eye. She smiled when she recognized the lone figure circling the event via the raised walkway. John Sneeden was the head night guard at the museum and someone the staff there loved. He respected everyone and operated effectively and efficiently. While planning the function, Jill had met the man a number of times and could instantly tell that he was ex-military.
She had a sixth sense about people, and her brain was telling her that John was a dangerous man in another lifetime. In the present, the guy with greying temples spent his nights roaming the halls of one of the largest museums in the world.
Must be amazing, she thought, glancing up at the stunning blue whale.
Plus, Frank met John once and commented about him.
“That guy smells like military.”
Jill smiled at Frank as they descended the front steps of the museum. “And what exactly does the military smell like?” He didn’t say anything. He just smiled back, their eyes lingering on each other for a moment.
That was three weeks ago. It was also the last time she and Frank had smiled at one another. They met for dinner and then headed to the museum to check on it. Frank loved the museum and couldn’t be stopped from coming.
I doubt he remembers the meeting, though. He had a lot going on that week.
He had been investigating a kid’s murder and was almost through with the case. Jill knew his job was incredibly taxing, so she tried to give him some credit when he acted disinterested in her. She did what she did best when he was in one of his…moods. She hid her
true feelings and buried them deep.
Whether or not life was good or bad, Frank only focused on the bad part of Jill's professional life and rarely recalled anything positive about her work. And it was even worse when he had a couple of drinks in him—not that he was an alcoholic, or anything. Booze seemed to loosen his tongue more than it already was.
God, he’s such an ass!
“Thank you and enjoy yourselves.”
Jill tried to hide her smile at the pathetic smattering of applause the crowd provided. There were over two hundred people in attendance, and she wagered that only ten percent of them had put their hands together for Dick. She recognized a few of them—Dick’s biggest supporters—AKA, ass kissers.
Or in his case, dick lickers.
She had made that up too.
It was another reason Jill wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The majority of the firm, which included everyone outside Dick's circle, loved her—her spirit. The people that had met Frank agreed that he was rubbing off on her.
Maybe they’re right?
The thought enraged her, and she stormed off stage as soon as she could. Everyone in the room got up along with her and rushed to the nearest of the four, fully-stocked open bars, one in each corner of the room. Frank was her everything a few years back until she had gotten busier with work. Now, he seemed as disinterested as ever—distant. Jill had no idea why. She figured he’d be over-the-moon for her with how quickly she was climbing the ladder.
He’s just jealous.
Then again, Frank had turned down his last two promotions, stating that he liked the job he had. If he had accepted the position that had been offered, he would’ve made a hell-of-a-lot more money and had would’ve been given a cushy office to call his own. He said that he could do more good if he was out on the streets with the people of New York City.
Yeah, right, Frank! You aren’t even a beat cop.
While Frank could sometimes get a little dramatic with the everyday happenings of his job, there was one thing that Jill was always proud of him for, doing his job. There was no way in hell that she could do what he did on a daily basis without breaking down mentally. Internally, Frank was one of the toughest people she had ever met.
But then, the thought of him becoming so distant and glum hit her hard. Maybe he wasn’t made entirely of stone? Sure, it was possible that Frank was hurting inside…and that Jill had been digging the trench between them deeper.
Jill took a handful of deep breaths to calm herself. Feeling better, she carefully mounted the first of six steps off the stage. Her knee-length red dress was skin tight, and it perfectly accented her accents. The only drawback was that she couldn't move in it all that quickly. It was also tailored for her a month ago but seemed to have shrunk over that last thirty days.
Damn late-night snacks.
Ordinarily, Jill kept herself in immaculate shape, but recently, with both the stress of the charity event creeping up on her, combined with continued problems at home, she’d been sneaking one-too-many late-night sweets. Ice cream, mostly.
Jillian Moon loved ice cream.
As soon as her right heel connected with the uppermost step, everyone within the Milstein Hall froze. Since she was on an elevated platform, Jill took witness to everything that was happening.
A woman had just come bursting in through the doors leading back into the Hall of Biodiversity. She was screaming as if her hair was on fire, rambling on and on about something. While having a good view of the commotion, Jill was too far away to hear anything. The lady’s demeanor, however, was plain to see…
Someone had been injured.
John was already on the move, rushing down the stairs above and behind Jill’s position. Within seconds the “older” man had rounded the back of the stage and was already making his way across the hall, weaving his way in and out of the growing crowd. Naturally, people headed toward whatever was happening versus backing away. Even from her higher vantage point, Jill couldn’t see the newcomer anymore, losing her in the ever-growing mass of curious museum patrons.
Then, chaos erupted as another wave of frantic people pushed their way in from the outer hall. Jill had no idea where these people were coming from. This was a private event, one that had security guards stationed at all entrances and exits. The only reason any of the guards would’ve opened a door was if there was an emergency.
Jill was about to take another step down from the stage, and head to one of the bars with Carla, but couldn’t after what took place next. She was locked in place. Immobilized by fear. The woman that had just interrupted their event leaped impossibly high into the air and came down on top of Dick.
What the fuck!
Dick’s anguished screams were worse than the woman’s previous outburst as she rode on his back like Yoda did Luke, biting and clawing at her boss’ neck and head. Before she looked away from the carnage, Jill witnessed the crazed woman jab her fingernails into Dick’s jugular.
“Jill!” Carla shouted, rushing forward.
Her cousin made it halfway up the stage’s stairs before being picked up off the ground and returned to ground level. Carla reacted as you would’ve expected, violently. She spun and lashed out with a right cross, but her balled fist was caught inside John’s thick hand.
“Time to go,” he said, holding out a hand to Jill.
Jill practically launched herself off of the stage platform, and hand-in-hand, with her cousin and a man she barely knew, the three of them slipped out of the back door and ran for their lives. The last thing Jill heard was the chorus of almost two hundred people screaming.
Oh, my God, she thought, they’re being slaughtered.
2
“Hang in there, Babe,” Frank said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. You hear me? I’ll be there as soon as—”
The line went dead. Looking down at her cell phone, Jill’s heart sank when she saw the no service icon pop up in the top left-hand corner of her screen.
The first thing she did after leaving the Milstein Hall? Call her husband. She had done her best to describe what she saw. The problem with the whole scenario was that Jill had no fucking clue what was really going on.
Dick—Richard—was dead. She could still see the woman trying to rip out his throat in her mind’s eye. A lot of other people had been killed from what she heard. She wanted to question John about what he saw when he’d gone to check on things, but they had yet to stop their retreat…until now.
The first place they stopped was in the Grand Gallery, specifically the exit onto 77th West Street. They got as far as the Great Canoe but slid to a halt when a group of hunched individuals slipped in through the doors they sought. John immediately yanked Jill and Carla to the right, toward a sign that advertised the floor’s café.
They bypassed it and continued on into the Spitzer Hall of Human Origins. Seconds later, the power went out, casting them in the creepy shadows caused by the building’s red emergency lights. And with the room filled entirely of human bones and taxidermized Neanderthals and primates, it made Jill’s limbs quake and her heart race.
It was as close to being on the set of a horror movie as it could get. She half-expected some psycho with a chainsaw and doctor’s mask to jump out at her.
Or, a race of blood-thirsty cannibals. She looked back, but couldn’t see them. Is that what they are?
Jill was scared. Carla, however, had already blown by scared, right to comatose. She was completely incoherent of her surroundings. Jill patted her cheek twice to no avail. Once, she even slapped the woman, getting only the slightest of reactions.
“Hang on,” Jill whispered, dragging John to a stop.
The guard didn’t look happy to be standing in one place, but he adhered to Jill’s request and took up watch while she tried to rouse Carla out of her stupor.
“Carrrla…” Jill cooed, getting nothing. “Carrrla…” Her cousin-in-law finally looked up at her. “Hi there, sweetie. It’s me, Jill.”
Ca
rla smiled, but her face quickly transformed from that into a horrified, open-mouthed, fish-like gasp. “What the…what the…what the…” She followed her babbling with a blood-curdling scream, earning twin shushes from Jill and John. Jill even slapped a hand over Carla’s mouth too.
A trio of screeches picked up somewhere just outside of the Hall of Human Origins. John grabbed Jill’s hand again and led the two women around the back of a glass display holding human skeletons. Then, like a ghost slipping into the shadows, John put a finger to his lips and disappeared.
Wait! Did John just ditch them?
Terrified, Jill quietly unzipped her purse and drew her lightly-used pistol. The small handgun was Frank’s idea—one Jill couldn’t argue with. She agreed because of the way he put it. At the time, it was cute. Now… He said, “Everyone around here should have one, especially someone with an ass like yours. Sorry, babe, but you’ve painted a target on yourself.”
The memory made Jill roll her eyes. Frank had his moments.
Had.
Forcing the flashback away, she gripped her gun hard. She had never used it in public except at the range. She honestly hoped she’d never have to shoot it—ever—let alone aim it at another human being.
Uncomfortable with squatting in heels, Jill swiftly slipped out of them and stuffed them into her, mostly, empty purse. Now, all that was left inside was her wallet and a small emergency makeup kit. Carla also removed her high heels but gawked at the way Jill was treating her expensive stilettos. Jill could only shrug and return her attention to the room around them.
The predatory shrieks from earlier were gone, and so was John. Jill couldn’t find him anywhere. She was hoping to spot his shadow or, at the very least, hear his footfalls. After a grueling three minutes alone with only Carla by her side, Jill dug down deep and stood.
There, on the other side of the glass display, was the ugliest, most horrifying thing she’d ever seen. The…creature…had no eyes to speak of. The only thing left was a pair of ravaged, bleeding holes. Most of the man’s hair was missing too, as was his shirt. The thing’s teeth were fanglike, thin and sharp, and blood covered every square inch of his exposed skin.
