Bad Moon Rising

by Billy Kring

  I had no cell phone to call. I whispered to her, “I have to get the house phone, I’m right here.” She squeezed my hand.

  I reached the house phone and called 911, then Hondo. I hurried to Amber, bringing dishtowels and saran wrap from the kitchen. Uncovering her back showed the small wound bubbling as she breathed. I peeled a sheet of saran wrap and placed it on her back over the hole, then pushed a kitchen towel over it so I could hold gentle pressure.

  After a moment, her breathing became easier, less like someone drowning.

  Hondo beat the ambulance to my house. He checked her, and checked me. He said, “Get comfortable,” as he went out on the deck and verified Moon had expired.

  When he returned, he checked Amber again. Then he said, “Hold on to yourself, this is gonna be tough.”

  He grasped the ice pick handle and braced his feet on each side of it, then pulled and twisted. My body shook all over, but the ice pick didn’t budge. He stopped pulling, and I exhaled a shaky breath, “Hoo-wee.”

  He said, “I know. Hang on.” He pulled harder and twisted the handle like he was unscrewing a screw. My vision swam. Then it was out, and I gasped.

  The ambulance arrived and took Amber. I said we’d follow in our vehicle. Hondo drove and I closed my eyes, wiping tears from my face as I thought about Amber being hurt because of me. Hondo tapped my shoulder and I opened my eyes. He held out a handkerchief. I took it and leaned my head against the window, feeling like a failure.

  At the hospital, I went to the ER and x-ray while Hondo checked on Amber. The ER doctor checked the x-rays and then me, saying, “I need to admit you.”

  “No, just patch me up.”

  “You have two fractured ribs and a number of injuries and contusions, Mr. Baca, and maybe a concussion. We need to keep you for observation.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  The doctor said, “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”

  He was a determined one. I said, “It’s a matter of national security.”

  “What?”

  “Highest priority. Alpha five.”

  “What’s Alpha Five?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  He stepped back, “You’re an excellent bull-shitter, Mr. Baca, I’ll give you that.” He turned to the two nurses, “Clean him up and I’ll get a wrap for his ribs.”

  An hour later I found Hondo and we both stood outside the O.R. Amber remained inside as surgeons removed the bullet and repaired damage.

  Two hours later, the surgeon emerged and said, “We repaired everything, now it’s a waiting game.”

  I said, “Can I stay with her in the room?”

  “Are you family?”

  “A close friend.”

  He shook his head. “She will still be on the ICU floor, so no. The parents are on their way. They will be able to stay in the room. You’ll have to remain in the waiting room. ”

  I nodded. Hondo said, “We’ll be here for her, that’s all that matters.”

  Chapter 12

  Amber’s parents arrived an hour later, looking worried. They stopped for a moment to shake hands, saying they recognized us through photos Amber had taken. Then they went to Amber’s room.

  Hondo stayed with me through the night, but the next day I told him he could leave and I’d call if we could see her. An hour after he left, Bodhi came to sit with me, and then Archie. The Electrical Testicles, the entire band, came by for several hours as well.

  I asked about her so often that the nurses wrote signs on letter-sized paper and held them up when they saw me approaching. The one they used the most read, Still in ICU. The other sign said, Go sit down.

  The third day, two of the nurses brought me a hot meal from the cafeteria. I asked if I could see Amber and they both said no, not yet. The older one patted my head. Nurses are amazing.

  The fourth day, the nurse that patted my head came to me, “I’m sorry, Mr. Baca, but Amber and her parents have left the hospital. They’re taking her home.”

  I sat up straighter, “I didn’t see them go by.”

  “They went out another exit.” She put a hand on my shoulder, “It was Amber’s decision. She said she wasn’t up to seeing you at this time.”

  All the air left me.

  The nurse looked like she was about to cry. “Maybe she will call you when she’s up to it. Amber still has a way to go in her recovery.”

  I nodded as I stood and thanked her for her kindness. I left in a daze and somehow made it home. The damage to the house and deck railing had been repaired, and Hondo’s note was on the table saying I owed him a cup of miso soup sometime.

  The next day I went to the office and filled him in on things. He didn’t say anything, just remained nearby in case I wanted to talk.

  I continued to recover over the next two weeks, reaching a point with my ribs where I could take a normal breath without a knifelike pain stabbing me, and my ankle healed fast because the deep wound in the bone didn’t become infected.

  Farlow got us parts in another Syfy film. That kept my mind occupied for three days. And Hondo and I fished more often.

  One evening six weeks later while I was home, Amber knocked on the door. I opened it, so surprised I couldn’t talk. She came in and hugged my neck for a long time.

  I started to say something and she put her fingers on my lips, and then kissed me. She led me into the bedroom and we made love and held each other through the night.

  I awoke the next morning, alone in the bed. A note rested on Amber’s pillow:

  My wonderful, gorgesome guy, I care about you more than you can imagine. But to be with you means I have to live in your jungle. I love you, Ronny, but I can’t live the rest of my life in fear of every shadow or sudden noise. So this is my sweet goodbye. My heart is breaking, but it is for the best. I love you, Amber.

  I hopped from the bed and checked the house and the driveway for her car. She was gone.

  ~*~

  All the following week I hoped she might come through the door, but things like that don’t happen in real life. I went to the office occasionally, but mostly went walking or fishing. Hondo kept others away and let me do what I had to do.

  One fine evening as sunset turned the high, streaming clouds to florescent pastels of peach and aqua, I leaned against the rail on the pier, watching the line at the end of my rod for any movement. My thoughts drifted to our last night together and how she gave everything she had to me.

  A fisherman walked by and said, “Thinking about the one that got away?”

  I nodded, “Yes I am.”

  ~~~***~~~

  Thanks for reading BAD MOON RISING, the third story in the Ronny Baca Mystery series. I hope you enjoyed it.

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