Runner's Moon: Jebaral

by Linda Mooney

  And then he would ask her if she wouldn’t mind going back to his place for an after-dinner coffee. It would be a nice little apartment, all clean and tidy because he cared about appearances. And one thing would lead to another. First a kiss. Then an admission that he had loved her ever since the first moment he laid eyes on her. And he would carry her back to the bedroom where they would make love.

  Finally he would take her back to where they had met. Maybe take her back to the movie theater so she could use going to the film as her excuse as to why she had been gone for two hours. Before he left her there, he would make her promise she would go with him wherever he went. He would promise to come for her when it was time for him to move on, and she would have no choice but to go with him because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind. Just as much as she couldn’t bear for him to leave her behind.

  The counter bell ringing brought her back to the present. Hannah blinked at the rude awakening.

  “Order up, Hannah! Get your head out of the clouds and feed the customers!”

  Throwing her boss an apologetic look, she grabbed the plate of waffles and took them over to the dark-haired man she had been fantasizing about. She was about to turn and leave when that deep, liquid voice said, “Tomorrow’s my last day.”

  It was as if her heart froze in place. Honest to God, she could feel her face go as stiff as stone. But somehow she managed to turn around to face him.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I was thinking about going up to Clearwater to see if there might be work for me there.”

  She knew the bank was finished. Connie Culpepper, who worked at the old location, had been in yesterday during the noon lunch rush and told Hannah they were already moving in the furniture. By next Monday they expected to have the doors open for business.

  The bank was built, but she had figured he would move on to another construction site. A site here in Laughlin. Not Clearwater. Not all the way up there. It was a good hundred some odd miles away. If he went to Clearwater, there was no way he would drive down here just to eat breakfast.

  “That’s … I mean, I’m sorry to hear you’re going to have to move on, Mr. Morr.”

  She saw his eyes dart back to the marks on her arm, but she no longer cared.

  “I have enjoyed our conversations in the past, Hannah. I am going to miss seeing you in the mornings.”

  It was nice of him to say so. Her heart cracked under the strain of the cold and pressure. Already little slivers were breaking away on their own and falling to her feet.

  “I’m going to miss having you come by,” she managed. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs wouldn’t draw air. A sharp, brittle-edged pain lanced up through her belly and into her throat. Hannah gasped as the hurt burned her eyes, making them water.

  Oh shit, what is wrong with me? Why does the thought of him leaving make me hurt so damn much? She had a man. Actually, she was stuck with a man. With Carl. But at least he wanted her. He needed her. And, in some vague way, he honestly loved her, although she was no longer able to tell.

  Jeb Morr had to move on. He had to earn a paycheck, just like everyone else. After tomorrow he would be gone, but she would still have her memories of him. She could still cherish her dreams. Those would never be taken away from her. Or beaten out of her.

  They stood staring at each other for several heartbeats, until a family entered the diner and took a seat at one of Hannah’s stations. A man, woman, and three young rowdy boys. Tourists passing through, from the looks of them. Muttering an apology, she tore herself away from his booth to go wait on them.

  By the time she managed to bring them their drinks and take their orders, Hannah turned to find the back booth empty. The sight of it was almost too much to bear.

  Walking over to clean it up, she lifted the five dollar tip from where he always tucked it under the saucer, and shoved it into her apron pocket. The rest she carried over to the cashier’s station.

  Barb came up behind her and watched her shove the register drawer closed. “What’s the matter, hon? You got that look that makes me think you just got some bad news.”

  Hannah turned around, keeping her eyes directed downward. The last thing she needed was to fall apart. Not that Barb wouldn’t put her arms around her like she’d done in the past and try to make things appear better than they were. But having a crying jag right here and now wouldn’t be good for business. And the last thing she needed was to lose her job because of some silly daydreams she had cherished about a man who never thought twice about her.

  She gave a small shrug with one shoulder. “It’s nothing. Jeb told me tomorrow would be his last day in Laughlin. The bank’s finished, so he’s thinking of moving up to Clearwater to see if he can find a job up there.”

  A work-roughened hand reached out to take one of hers. Barb gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, hon.” The woman’s voice was filled with compassion. To Hannah it felt good.

  “‘S okay.”

  “Want to take a quick break?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I can’t. I just got here.”

  “Then go throw some water on your face and freshen your lipstick. You look like hell.”

  Finally raising her eyes to look at the older woman, Hannah gave a watery chuckle. “Gee. Thanks a lot.”

  Barb smiled at her and gave her a little shove toward the restrooms. Hannah obliged because she had no other choice.

  But there was still tomorrow morning. His last morning to come to the diner. Without realizing it, a plan began to form in her mind. She had one chance, and she was determined to go for it.

  After all, she had nothing else to lose.

  Chapter 2

  Jeb

  The pickup was over fifteen years old, but she still had a lot of life left in her. Jeb coaxed the stick shift into second as he neared the construction site. A quick turn south, and he could park in the lot for the bank’s employees.

  From the moment she had come to serve him coffee, he had known she had been victimized again last night. Breakfast rolled uneasily in his stomach at the thought of what she’d had to endure. That made three times this week, and the week wasn’t over.

  He knew he had to tell her he was moving along. It wouldn’t have been right to just stop showing up when his having breakfast at the diner had been a morning ritual for almost five months. What irked Jeb more was the fact he couldn’t figure out why he cared enough about the woman to think he owed her any sort of explanation.

  He glanced down at his hands that gripped the steering wheel. They were good hands, if he did say so himself. Although keeping the nails clean could sometimes be a pain. Turning his left wrist over, he looked at the inside of his arm, knowing he wouldn’t see them. But they were there, underneath the pale skin. Visible only at night after he had sloughed his outer layer.

  He had phoned Simolif last night from the pay phone at the end of the block, since the motel room he was renting by the week didn’t have that luxury. They had chatted about what they were doing. Interesting things they had discovered. Oddities they had noted about these people they lived among. Then Jeb had told Simolif he was moving on and that he would call as soon as he was settled to let his brother know where he could be reached.

  Five years ago they had risked the chance to find civilization together. They needed to find the dominant species on this world. Needed to see what they looked like so they could morph into a nearly carbon copy of them. Or else they would not have been able to blend in among them.

  They had been astonished to find that the inhabitants were bipeds, like them. Even more astonishing was the fact their body structure was almost identical to the natives. Other than a change in the outer layer, there would be little they would have to do in order to fit in. It was almost too good to be true.

  Still, there were some irregularities they had to adjust in order for them to fit in. Not to mention certain peculiarities about this species that proved to be minor roadblocks.

  Jeb st
rode from the parking lot to the bank building. Grabbing his hardhat from the stack, he went inside to find the construction boss. B and A Construction used its own team of men to complete a job. But because of the time constraint, they had gone to the local employment agency and hired six more men to come aboard temporarily. Now that the bank was finished, Jeb had gotten his walking papers yesterday. He would finish up on those pneumatic machines in the drive-thru lanes today. Tomorrow he would pick up his last paycheck and hit the road.

  “Hey, Morr.” Anson Bennetson, senior co-partner of the firm, gave him a nod. “Finishing the drive-up lanes today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” The man paused, then added, “Hate to have to let you go, Jeb. You’re a damn good worker. In fact, I was wondering if you wouldn’t be interested in coming on full-time. It’s a done deal. All you would have to do is fill out the paperwork and do the drug testing. No big deal. What do you say? Can you go with it?”

  Jeb balanced his hands on his hips. The man’s offer tempted him in ways he couldn’t begin to explain. Yet the answer would always be—

  “No. Thank you for the offer, Mr. Bennetson, but I’m going to have to pass. In fact, after I pick up my paycheck tomorrow, I’ll be heading for Clearwater.”

  The older man tried to hide his disappointment. “Clearwater? What’s up there, if I might ask?”

  Jeb threw a shrug into the mixture. It was a gesture he’d found could convey any number of emotions and unspoken explanations. “I have a brother up in Templeton. Eventually I hope to connect up with him.”

  “Templeton, huh? Is that where you’re from?”

  “No, sir. We’re from … overseas. A little country called Barandat.”

  Bennetson nodded. “That’s where you get that accent. I figured you must not be from around here. But you have your papers, and you’re a damn fine worker, and that’s all that counts with me. Well, son, it’s been a privilege. Thanks for coming aboard this time around. If you change your mind, you know my number.” He held out a beefy hand which Jeb took, and they shook. Giving the boss a little salute with his hardhat, Jeb went outside to complete work on the base of the machines.

  Staying. A home.

  They were forbidden words. Wishful words. Without provocation images of Hannah popped into his mind. Angrily Jeb set his jaw and turned his concentration to setting up the bricks.

  What wouldn’t he give to be able to set down roots? To stop running and be able to live a life without fear?

  The image of Hannah’s face floated before his mind’s eye again. Jeb figured it had to have been because of the fear word. The woman lived in fear every day of her life, just like he did. Although it was a different kind of fear. If mankind ever found out about the race of beings called Ruinos living among them…

  He glanced overhead at the bright sunlight. It would reach into the low nineties today. His epidermal layer would stay nice and tight until sunset, but by that time, he would be safely ensconced inside his motel room for the night. Only then could he remove the human-looking layer and relax in his own skin.

  That relaxation came with a price. The Arra could not track them in the daylight when they were wearing their outer skin. At night, however, the pale reflection of light that bounced off the moon wasn’t enough to keep them imprisoned. By opening themselves to their true forms, the Ruinos also placed themselves in jeopardy of being discovered. Hunted. Captured or killed.

  No. Not or killed. And killed. Ruinos had unbelievably short life spans when they were captives of the Arra.

  Jeb shook his head in thought as his hands automatically laid a symmetrical foundation of bricks around the shiny aluminum machine. There was a lot he had accomplished in the short time he had been on this planet. He could physically pass for one of them. He could speak their language—or at least one of them—well enough to be understood. Plus read and write in it. He had even managed to soak up as many of the nuances he could find regarding their culture.

  Yet for every accomplishment, there were many more he couldn’t fully grasp. At least not now. For one, he couldn’t pass a drug test. For another he had no legal documentation. What papers he had he’d paid a lot of money for. He was as illegal an alien as he could be.

  His thoughts wandered back to Hannah. She had gone totally white when he had told her he was leaving. Her blue eyes had filled with tears. If Jeb allowed himself to believe, he would have thought she had been devastated by the news.

  The image of the purplish bruise on her upper arm came back into focus. What kind of human could hurt an innocent such as Hannah? The woman wore her vulnerability about the same way he wore his outer skin.

  Why didn’t she leave the man? It wasn’t like she needed him for anything. At least, not financially. According to Barb, she was the only breadwinner in that relationship. That was what the woman had told him that one morning he had gone to breakfast and not seen Hannah at work.

  “She called in sick,” the woman said tightly, pouring him a cup of coffee.

  “Sick? Is it serious?”

  Barbara gave him a cautious look, wondering how honest she could be with him. “If you’re thinking a stomach virus or something like that, you’d be wrong. What can I get you?”

  He decided on a cheese omelet, then watched as the woman went to place his order. The diner was practically empty this time of the morning. Although it opened for business at six a.m., the morning rush usually didn’t start until after seven.

  Breaking his morning routine, he picked up his cup and walked over to the bar, perching on one of the stools. Barb turned around and gave him a surprised look. Before she could say anything, he asked point blank, “Did he hurt her again?”

  “She didn’t say, but I would put money on it.”

  Jeb chewed over the saying and took it for a yes.

  “It’s almost become a nightly ritual,” the woman continued in a whisper. “You’d think he’d lay off of her since she’s the one footin’ the bills. Payin’ the rent. That no-good boyfriend hasn’t held down a job for the past year and a half. Says he hurt his back. He was collecting workman’s comp until a few months ago when it ran out.” Barb shook her head at the injustice. “I feel so sorry for the woman. I just can’t tell you.”

  “Think she’ll be back tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. Depends on how bad he roughed her up. But I will tell you this. Carl’s gotten a lot more careful where and how much he bruises her. The man knows if he’s not careful he could hospitalize her, and that would mean an end to his bar-hopping with the boys until she got well enough to go back to work.”

  A crunching sound brought him back to the present. Jeb stared at the dust particles in his hand. He had crushed the hard clay brick as easily as wadding a sheet of paper. Gritting his teeth, he bent back to his task.

  He wished he could do something for her, but what? The woman was claimed. He had no rights to her. Even if he did, there was nothing he could offer her. Absolutely nothing.

  Lane one was finished. Getting to his feet, Jeb went over to the truck with the water cooler and poured himself a paper cup full. One down, three to go. At this rate, he would be finished well before quitting time, not that it mattered anymore. He would go back to the motel and pack his things. Maybe go out for a nice last meal at La Italiana before calling it a day. Then in the morning go see Hannah at the diner for one final breakfast before picking up his last paycheck and heading out of town. Next stop, Clearwater.

  Draining the cup, Jeb tossed it into the trash bag and returned to his brick laying. He would be able to keep his hands busy, but his mind had the whole day to dwell on Hannah Pitt. To dwell. And reminisce. And wonder why the woman affected him as much as she did, when no other woman on this planet had before.

  Chapter 3

  Carl

  The moment he stepped into the diner he knew something was wrong. The place had opened up less than ten minutes ago, and there were only two other customers besides himself. But there was a
n odd feeling to the place.

  His Ruinos abilities came to the forefront. Emotions had a smell to them, and sometimes a taste. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the smell. They could be sensed above all other smells, like the fresh-perked aroma of coffee, the frying bacon and sausage patties.

  This morning, Jeb could smell sadness.

  And anger. Pungent, acrid anger. Unleashed anger, from what he could tell with another tentative sniff.

  Trying to appear nonchalant, he ambled over to his usual booth and slid onto the Naugahyde seat. Tapping his fingertips together, he waited to be served. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Barb bustled out from the back and spotted him. Grabbing the carafe from behind the counter, she hurried over to pour him a cup of coffee. One look at her face said it all, but he had to ask anyway.

  “Where’s Hannah?”

  “She called in sick.”

  He barely managed to stifle the groan that rose in his throat. “Not again,” he said to help cover up his disappointment. She couldn’t be gone. Not on his last day in town.

  “Yeah. Only this time I think it’s worse.” She gave him a worried look. “It was Carl who called in for her. Said Hannah was in the bathroom throwing up and couldn’t make it to the phone.”

  Suddenly she plunked the carafe on the table and sat down in the seat across from him. “I hate to say this, but I’m worried sick. She’s never had Carl call in before.”

  “You’re thinking he’s hurt her so badly she can’t call in herself?”

  The woman nodded. “I have half a mind to call the cops and report it.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Because what if she’s really sick, like with the flu? Wouldn’t I look like an idiot? So the next time he really does do a number on her and I try to call it in, they might think I’m yelling wolf again.”