Night of the Purple Moon

by Scott Cramer

  “Call the Coutures,” she said.

  “You think I know their number?”

  Abby grabbed his phone and called 4-1-1. The robotic voice prompted her responses. “Couture, Castine Island, Maine.” The call engaged, but their phone just rang and rang and rang.

  Kevin’s wailing sobs had lessened to sniffles and whimpers. Abby, in a gentle, but quaking voice, said, “What happened to your parents?”

  He started crying again.

  Abby held her hand in front of Emily’s face. The twelve-year-old seemed to stare right through it. Abby slowly moved her hand back and forth, but Emily’s gaze remained fixed. She was in shock and needed to see a doctor. But there were no doctors on Castine Island. As soon as Dad returned, Abby thought, he’d take Emily and Kevin to the police station, or to the hospital in Portland.

  When Kevin finally settled himself, she asked again what had happened. His words tumbled out in spurts. “I overslept. We were supposed to take the seven o’clock ferry. I ran into my parents’ room to wake them up. They were still in bed. I touched Mother’s hand. It was cold.”

  “Sometimes I get cold when I’m sleeping,” Jordan said.

  Kevin scrunched his brow. “Do you think I’m stupid? I felt for their pulses.” He broke down again.

  Abby moved to the window. Still no traffic. No approaching wail of a police siren. No sign of Dad. Blinking back tears, she took Jordan aside. “I’m going outside to look for Dad. Watch Kevin and Emily. Keep Toucan busy.”

  Jordan turned pale. He picked up a box of blocks without an argument and sat beside Toucan on the floor.

  Abby crept into the kitchen, hoping she’d find a note that explained where her father had gone. Only a mug of cold tea and a leftover slice of purple pizza were on the counter. Except for Kevin’s jagged sobs, everything was eerily quiet.

  She stepped into the narrow breezeway that led to the back porch. Her heart was racing, almost a steady hum, and she felt light-headed. The walls of the breezeway seemed to close in on her. She stumbled on one of Toucan’s rubber boots. Through the storm door she saw nothing unusual in the backyard, apart from the electric purple glow. She stepped closer to the door. The three lawn chairs were in the same place as last night. The blanket she had used lay draped over the back of her chair, but Dad’s chair was empty. No blanket, no binoculars.

  He heard the crash, she thought. Half asleep, he must have stumbled out to the front yard. But then what did he do? Where did he go? And why hadn’t he told them?

  Abby rested her hand on the door handle, surprised it was wet and slimy. Then she realized her palms were sweating.

  She feared breathing the space dust. She was even worried the tiny particles were likely floating inside the breezeway and throughout the house. Abby took a gulp of air and held her breath.

  She stepped outside.

  Her father was to her right, curled on the deck. The blanket stretched behind him, and the binoculars lay beside his head, the strap still around his neck. She knew immediately that he was dead.

  Abby emptied her lungs of air with a guttural scream.

  She closed the door and slumped to the breezeway floor. Shudders wracked her body and she became aware of her breathing, of the lub-dub of her heart, of every swallow. She squeezed her eyes shut and vines of lavender spread across the insides of her eyelids.

  Toucan’s warm breath touched her cheek. “Abby. Sad.”

  Abby felt her sister’s small hand patting her face and then Toucan’s finger went up her nose.

  Abby blinked. Jordan was sobbing next to her, the color drained from his face. Kevin was at the other end of the breezeway, rocking side to side. Abby hugged Toucan and stood.

  “Daddy. Daddy,” Toucan squealed, pointing excitedly.

  “Touk.” Abby swallowed hard. “Daddy’s sleeping.”

  * * *

  Abby herded everyone upstairs and into Jordan’s room. She bit her lip to keep from crying, to keep from falling apart. Someone had to be strong now, and she was the oldest.

  “We’ll stay here,” she told them. “Sooner or later the police will show up, or we’ll see a neighbor. Melrose Street is one of the busiest on the island. Someone will drive by. Mr. Couture will come outside when he wakes up and sees the truck in his front yard.”

  Had any of them heard a word? Emily, who was sitting on Jordan’s bed, still hadn’t spoken. Kevin paced with a vacant stare. Jordan slumped in the corner, covering his face to hide his tears.

  Abby crouched beside her brother and placed a hand on his knee. Usually he’d pull back from any type of contact she initiated, or would slap her hand away. He looked up with red-rimmed eyes.

  “The Coutures are dead, too,” he said.

  “Don’t say that.”

  He lowered his head.

  “Jordan, Mom’s arriving on the noon ferry. She’ll know what to do.” Abby thought that if her mother took a cab from the harbor, she’d reach the house at 12:15. If she had to walk, she’d be here at 12:30. “She’ll be here before we know it.”

  “What if Mom isn’t on the ferry? What if there is no ferry?”

  Abby couldn’t remember hearing the ferry horn this morning. She must have slept through it.

  Toucan grinned. “Mommy! Mommy!”

  “Touk needs to eat,” Abby told her brother. “I’ll fix her breakfast. Can you change her diaper?”

  Downstairs, Abby sat on the kitchen floor and hugged her knees. What if Mom wasn’t on the ferry, as Jordan had said? What if there was no ferry? She wept as quietly as possible. She avoided looking at the breezeway entrance, but the image of her father kept flooding into her mind. She checked the signal on her phone. Three bars, strong. She tried to call Mom again, the police, her friend Mel—none of the calls went through. She grabbed Touk’s favorite cereal and a banana.

  Upstairs, Abby dragged her damp eyes across her shoulder before going into Jordan’s room. He was changing Toucan on the floor. His tears, for the moment, had dried up.

  Fresh and content, Toucan sat on the bed next to Emily and ate Cheerios.

  The sky had turned a deeper shade of violet over the past hour. Mr. Emerson had told the class the space dust would saturate the atmosphere for two whole weeks. After several months, the moon, sun, and stars would return to their normal colors as the dust settled into the ocean and ground. But the particles of space dust, her teacher had said, would remain part of the Earth’s environment forever.

  Abby pressed her nose against the window pane and peered to the right and to the left. Up and down the street there were no signs of life. The sky was empty of birds and airplanes. She couldn’t see inside the truck cab, but deep down she felt that Mr. Marsh was behind the wheel. She had an unsettling feeling that he and the Coutures and many others all across the island had met the same fates as her father and Mr. and Mrs. Patel.

  If space dust hadn’t killed them, what else could it be? It seemed like an obvious answer.

  Abby started to speak, but her throat crimped shut. She took a sharp breath and managed to swallow. “Do you think…the space dust is poisonous?”

  “It didn’t kill us,” Jordan said with a sniffle.

  “Maybe some people are allergic to it?” she said.

  “Who? Old people?”

  “The comet tail is twenty million miles long,” Kevin said in a listless tone. “The earth is completely inside of it. The dust is everywhere. People are dead everywhere.”

  “Shut up,” Jordan said.

  Abby felt her knees wobble. “Mom will be here soon,” she said.

  The clock radio caught her attention. Abby turned it on and spun the dial, but got only white noise. Experts had predicted the space dust might affect cell phones, so it made sense it would also affect the radio.

  Kevin sprang to life. “Try FM. The wavelengths are longer.”

  “How do you know that?” Jordan said in a tone of disbelief.

  Abby had seen her classmates react the same way when Kevin first star
ted sharing scientific facts in class. After a while, everyone just accepted that Kevin was some kind of genius.

  “When it’s foggy,” Kevin added, “have you ever tried to listen to an AM station? They don’t come through. But FM is always clear. That’s because—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jordan said.

  On FM Abby found a station, KISS 108, with a strong signal playing pop music. It was the only station on the air. Only one station was troubling. But one station was better than no stations. She was desperate for news.

  Two more songs played and then a commercial came on. Nobody spoke as they all waited anxiously. But a new song followed the commercial. No deejay introduced the song.

  “Some stations are computerized,” Kevin said. “They don’t need people.”

  For the next half hour they heard music and three commercials. No news, no weather.

  Jordan stood. “Let’s go up to the roof. We can see what’s happening at the harbor.”

  “There’s too much space dust outside,” Abby said. “It’s not safe.”

  “We’re not allergic to it. You said that yourself.”

  “Jordan, I didn’t say that.”

  He headed for the door. “Where are the binoculars? Well? You’re always telling me how messy I am. At least I know where things are. You had them last!”

  Abby inched closer to her brother, ready to grab him. “Jordan, stay inside.”

  He scowled. “What makes you the boss?” He glanced at Kevin, hoping for an ally, but Kevin lowered his eyes.

  Abby suggested a compromise. “If Mom’s not on the noon ferry, then we’ll go up to the roof.”

  Jordan looked at her, at the door, back to her.

  “Please,” Abby said.

  He grunted and moved to the window. Abby breathed a sigh of relief, but she was certain he would soon challenge her again. Until her mother arrived, Abby knew that they all needed to stay together and work as a team. She’d do whatever was necessary to make sure that happened.

  It was easy to forget about Emily. She sat like a mannequin on the bed, saying nothing, staring straight ahead. It was not so easy to forget about Toucan. Her sister was bored. Confined to a small room, understanding little of what was going on, what toddler wouldn’t be antsy? Abby got out Jenga to play with her. As Abby was removing a block from the tower, Toucan said something that caught her off guard. “Wake up Daddy.”

  Abby dissolved in tears. The tower toppled.

  She felt the tension rising as noon approached. They should hear the ferry horn any minute. Over and over again, Abby pictured the ferry motoring into Castine Island harbor and the captain pulling the cord that sounded the horn.

  By noon the ferry horn had not sounded. “It’s running late,” Abby said, knowing the ferry never ran late. By 12:15, still nothing. “I bet Mom will take the five o’clock ferry.” Her fake cheeriness did little to raise the somber mood of the boys.

  The afternoon dragged on. Abby put Toucan down for a nap. Soon after that the radio station went off the air.

  Jordan and Kevin went downstairs to try the TV and computer. The boys reported every TV channel had a test pattern. Kevin was able to make a connection from the computer to the server—located somewhere on the mainland—but he couldn’t access the internet.

  “We have a satellite connection with a wireless network,” Kevin said. “If I get my laptop from my house, I can work from here.”

  “Let’s wait,” Abby said. “Our mother will be here soon.”

  “She might have sent us e-mail!” Jordan said.

  “Jordan, she’ll be here at five-thirty.”

  “What if she isn’t? What if… “ Her brother lowered his head.

  Just then tires squealed outside. Jordan reached the window first. By the time Abby looked out, the car had sped by the house.

  “It was green,” Jordan stammered. “I couldn’t see the driver. It was going really fast.”

  Abby felt her spirit lifting. If someone else was alive, it meant than her mom was probably okay, too.

  “The mailman drives a green car,” Kevin said.

  “His is dark green,” Kevin said. “This was light green.”

  “Who else drives a green car?” Abby said.

  They all paused, thinking. They hardly knew anyone on the island. Dad, who’d grown up here, always said, “It takes a long time to get to know a local, but once you do, you have a friend for life.” Since moving here Jordan had so far made one friend, Eddie Egan. Abby had zero friends, and she was sure that Kevin and Emily didn’t have any friends, either.

  “Whoever it was, I bet they’re going to meet the ferry,” Abby said.

  The five-thirty ferry never arrived.

  * * *

  Jordan gazed out the window at the evening sky. It was an ugly mash-up of reds and different shades of purple. Earth, he imagined, was still hurtling through the comet’s tail.

  Where were the gulls? Normally birds filled the sky at sunset. He wondered if they were allergic to space dust, too.

  Several street lights turned on. He didn’t react. He knew they came on automatically at dusk.

  The street remained deserted. The green car had not passed by the house again. He and Abby and Kevin had taken shifts at the window, keeping a lookout. The driver, speeding to the point of losing control, must have been in a great hurry. Was he or she going somewhere, or running from something?

  Jordan pictured his father on the porch. His mind jumped around like that, thinking about the green car one second, his dad the next, then some other random thought. But the image of his dad kept reoccurring. When he’d heard Abby scream in the breezeway he knew that something was terribly wrong.

  Jordan felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He was glad that he was alone in the room. He hated for people to see him cry. Kevin was in Abby’s room changing out of his pajamas, and Abby had taken Toucan and Emily to the bathroom to shower and use the toilet.

  Everything was so strange and sad and that included Emily Patel being here in his house. He had thought she was really cute the first time he had set eyes on her, three months ago in Ms. Gifford’s class. Emily sat two rows over, and to glimpse at her long brown hair, he’d pretend to look at the wall clock. Once she had caught him staring at her and she stared back with her huge dark eyes.

  Now those huge brown eyes had stared into space for the past eight hours.

  The colors of the sky blurred from more tears as Jordan’s thoughts turned to his mother. Was she still at home in Cambridge? Or had she made it as far as the ferry terminal in Portland?

  He recalled their last phone conversation two days ago. She had called to let them know what ferry she was planning to take. When the phone passed to him, she told him the surprising news. She was going to look for a job in Portland. “Happy?” she asked. He let out a whoop. Leaving her job in Boston and working in Portland meant two very big things: the family would once again be together, and they would continue to live on Castine Island. Jordan could think of no better place to live.

  Growing up, he and Abby had stayed with Gram and Grandpa on the island for several weeks every summer. He loved to sail and fish and wanted to join the Coast Guard or Navy when he grew up. After both grandparents died, the island house remained vacant. Then last September Dad, who worked at the Cambridge Public Library, half-jokingly applied for a job at the Castine Island Library. Tired of the city, he’d always talked about moving here someday. To Dad’s surprise, they offered him the job of running the small library.

  “Let’s move on a trial basis,” Dad had proposed. “Your mom will keep her job in Boston and visit on the weekends. If we like it, she’ll look for a new job in Portland. If we don’t like it, we’ll move back to Cambridge next summer.”

  Abby had hated the idea from the start. “All my friends are in Cambridge,” she’d argued. “We can’t go in the middle of the school year …” She had even suggested that Dad should move to the island, and they would all visit him on weekends.r />
  Jordan bit his lip. What if Abby had had her way and the family stayed in Cambridge? Would they all be safe now?

  Just then a light blinked on at the Couture’s house across the street. It was in a room on the second floor. Jordan’s jaw dropped. Then he wondered if the light was on a timer. In Cambridge some homeowners set lights to turn on automatically whenever they were away on vacation. It discouraged burglars. But there was no crime on Castine Island, no reason to have timer lights.

  Gulping, he raced to the bathroom and pounded on the door. “The Coutures are alive,” he shouted. “They’re alive!”

  * * *

  Abby told Kevin to get long-sleeved shirts. “You’ll find some in my dad’s closet,” she said. Abby was cutting up a sheet to make masks for them to breathe through when she and Kevin crossed the street to the Couture’s house. She didn’t think the masks or shirts would do much good, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  The moment Kevin disappeared Jordan shot her a look. “I was the one who saw the light! I should go with you.”

  “One of us has to stay with Toucan,” she told him.

  “Kevin can.”

  Why did Jordan pick the worst times to be stubborn?

  “Jordan, she’s our sister. We’re responsible for her.”

  He pointed to Emily on the couch. “She’s Kevin’s sister. What’s the difference?” He folded his arms, a signal he wasn’t going to give in.

  “Jordan, if something happens to both of us, who will take care of Toucan?”

  “I’ll go with Kevin,” he said. “You stay with Touk.”

  “Have you ever been inside the Couture’s house?”

  Abby knew the answer was no. She didn’t think he had ever spoken to the elderly couple. But Abby had spoken to them and had been inside their house. Mrs. Couture invited her over for cookies two years ago. It was weird experience. Mr. Couture had pointed a shaky finger at her whenever he spoke, and Mrs. Couture sprayed Lysol on her “to keep the germs down.”

  Jordan grumbled. “Fine, be the boss. Next time, it’s my turn to go outside.”

  They discussed signals. If Abby waved the flashlight side to side, everything was good. Up and down meant trouble. She told Jordan to pull down the bedroom shade if he needed help.