Summer on the Moon (21 page)

Authors: Adrian Fogelin

Livvy let out a nervous laugh.

Rapp found his balance. “You think that’s funny?” He slipped the knife out of his pocket.

Livvy drew a sharp breath.

With one small click, Rapp was big again. The bare blade in his hand caught the light as he took another awkward step. In the distance they heard the faint
waa-waaa
of a police siren. Rapp froze.

Socko squeezed Livvy’s hand as the sound grew louder. Someone had made the call.

But the siren never got any closer. Instead it grew fainter and fainter until it faded to nothing.

“Bet some old lady called 911 ’cause her kitty’s up a tree.” Rapp danced a step closer. “This ain’t so hard.”

“Do like you did last time,” Livvy whispered. She reached over and latched onto the next beam with both hands. He did the same. As they slid off the beam they’d been sitting on, Socko heard the twang of the two-by-four’s rebound, followed by a thud and a loud groan.

Livvy stuck her landing, but Socko hit the floor off balance and pitched forward. His hands were sliding across the rough wood when something shiny landed in front of him with a
thwack
. The knife that had fallen out of Rapp’s hand quivered between his splayed fingers, the blade driven into the floor. Socko looked up.

Rapp lay on the beam above him, his arms and legs wrapped around it.

Gripping the handle of the knife, Socko jerked it free. He pushed the button and retracted the blade.

“Come on, Socko!” Livvy urged. “Come on! Come on!” And they ran.

The knife in his hand felt wrong. He didn’t want it, but he didn’t want to leave it where Rapp could find it either. Without breaking stride, he dropped the switchblade into one of the plastic pipes sticking out of the ground and followed Livvy as she took cover behind a house.

37
MOON LANDING

They stood, trying to catch their breath so they could run again.

“How long can we keep this up?” Livvy gasped.

And that’s when it hit him.

He and Livvy were the prey, Rapp was the predator. But in the wild the predator, no matter how superior, lost the prey more often than he caught it—especially if the prey knew the territory.

He grabbed her wrist. “This way!”

She held back. “This way! That way! We can’t outrun him. We need a plan!”

“I’ve got one. Run, now!”

“Now?” They could hear the muffler scraping along the street as the car slowly prowled. “He’ll see us!”

“I’m counting on it,” Socko said. “We’re not running away anymore. We’re leading him.”

“Leading him where?”

But the car had reached the distance that tripped an imaginary wire. “Go!” Socko yelled, and they took off again.

They zigzagged toward Socko’s goal, Rapp sometimes no more than a few car lengths away.

The dragging muffler threw sparks as it bounced along Blue Moon Drive. Socko and Livvy dodged from one house to the next, Livvy’s dress the bright flag that waved Rapp on. “Hear that?” Livvy panted. “Another siren!”

“Almost there!” They were running behind a row of houses as the Trans Am paralleled them on the street. Temporarily out of sight, Socko slowed and held out his hand for Livvy to stop. “The clubhouse is just ahead. When I tell you to, we’ll run for it.”

“We can’t get in,” said Livvy. “There’s no one there.”

Rapp leaned on his horn.

“I know!” Socko yelled over the horn blast. “I want you to break left, go around back. Stop at the deep end of the pool.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“No, but it’ll be okay. Trust me.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Don’t be a hero.”

“Me, a hero? Not a chance. Now, go!”

The horn was still blaring as they pelted toward the brick building. Livvy kept running, but Socko stopped. He was relieved when the yellow dress disappeared around the corner. Behind him the horn blast stopped. He turned and faced the car that idled half a block away.

Rapp floored it.

Socko’s legs ached to run but, feet spread, he faced the onrushing car. He stood his ground until its double headlights became the multiple eyes of a hunting spider—and then counted to three. When the Trans Am jumped the curb, Socko bolted for the opposite end of the clubhouse.

The car swerved and kept bearing down on him—if Socko slowed, he’d be under its wheels or splayed across the hood. It hadn’t looked like this in his mental plan! He had pictured a lot more space between him and the car’s grill. Slapping a hand against the brick wall, his momentum whipped him around the corner and he gained a few feet.

Livvy stood at the deep end of the pool. As if the yellow dress wasn’t target enough, she was waving her arms. She’d figured out the plan.

If things had gone as Socko had imagined, he would have had time to get out of the way—but there wasn’t time or space. The hedge was just ahead. Desperate, Socko jumped the hedge, took a couple of stumbling steps, and smacked down flat on the water in the shallow end. As he went under, a shock wave billowed past him.

He staggered to his feet. The Trans Am had sailed over him, clearing the shallow end completely and plunging into deep water.

The car’s open windows belched bubbles. Water closed over its roof. The engine sputtered and died.

Socko couldn’t believe it. His plan had worked!

A police siren wailed in the distance. It was still far away, but getting closer. “Told you I had your back, Damien,” Socko said quietly. He heard a splash behind him and turned. Livvy had run along the side of the pool and jumped in at the shallow end.

She stared at the sunken car. “Why doesn’t he climb out?”

The bubbles coming up were tiny now, sneaking out from under the hood. All the air inside the car would be gone soon. He’d wanted to stop Rapp, not kill him!

Socko slogged into deeper water, his breath walloping in and out of his lungs. After nearly killing himself running away from the gang leader, he swam as hard as he could toward the sinister shape beneath the water.

He sucked in as deep a breath as he could and dove.

Afraid it was a trick, that Rapp was waiting to drown him, Socko came down over the windshield, nowhere near the open driver’s side window.

The face behind the glass was an eerie green. Light fractured by the ripples on the surface scarred the face with a web of jagged white lines, but the face looked peaceful. Rapp was definitely unconscious. Always too cool to wear a seatbelt, Rapp must have hit his head.

The tables had turned. Now he was Rapp’s worst nightmare—and his only hope.

Socko hooked the toe of his sneaker under the bumper and pulled himself over to the door. He grasped the handle and pushed the release. He yanked on the door as hard as he could, but it didn’t budge.

Suddenly a hand was on top of his. He and Livvy pulled on the handle together. The door swung open slowly, like the door of a bank vault. It was only halfway open when a dancing field of tiny black stars clouded his vision. The hand on top of his let go and latched onto his shirt. He was flailing his arms when warm air hit his face.
He sucked in a deep breath, making a horrible rasping sound. “Gotta go back!”

“No!” She held onto his T-shirt. “We need help!” she yelled.

He glanced around wildly. The scene on the surface had changed. Luke was running toward the pool. The Corrigans’ baby blue Cadillac squealed to a stop and the doors flew open.

“The guy in the car is drowning!” Livvy yelled, letting go of Socko’s shirt.

Socko dove again. He was barely under when he heard a loud splash and Luke was in the pool too, his shirt billowing as he pulled himself down through the water. He pointed at Socko, then up.

Socko was about to break for the surface when he saw Rapp. His legs were still in the car, but his upper body had spilled out. His hands and arms floated as if he were dancing. Funny way to die. The two words “funny” and “die” crashed into each other. It wasn’t funny. And he couldn’t let it happen. He swam over and grabbed Rapp’s hands.

It took both Socko and Luke to bring Rapp to the surface. “Got him,” said Luke. “I’ll take it from here.”

Socko shook the water out of his eyes. The scene had changed again. Livvy was being held by her mother. The rotating lights of a squad car strafed the water.

“Bring him here!” yelled the policeman at the edge of the pool—it took Socko a second to recognize Officer Fricke.

Luke dragged the limp body over to the kneeling officer, who grabbed Rapp’s arms.

Socko couldn’t take his eyes off Rapp’s face as the officer hauled him out of the water. Mouth open, skin pale, he was barely recognizable. He lay still on the concrete. Officer Fricke felt for a pulse.

Too stunned and exhausted to pull himself out, Socko clung to the lip of the pool. He knew the officer wouldn’t find a pulse. Rapp was dead. He pressed his forehead against the tile, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Socko! Socko!”

A gnarled hand was reaching for him. With the help of Uncle Eddie, his great-grandfather had lowered himself to his arthritic knees. “Take my hand!” the General ordered.

“Great way to get yourself drowned too,” said Uncle Eddie, offering Socko another hand.

Socko grasped both.

As he was lifted out of the water by the two old men, the weightlessness of floating receded. He was heavy again, sitting in a puddle on hot concrete.

“Goll-durn it, son! You trying to get yourself killed?” The General crushed Socko to his chest.

His wet face against his great-grandfather’s sweater, Socko smelled old-man mustiness. He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck.

“Thank God, you’re all right. Thank God.” The General’s voice shook with relief. “You about scared me to death! Lucky thing Eddie deserted his post and came to our place ASAP. We’ve been driving around looking for you and Livvy ever since.”

“What do you mean deserted my post?” Uncle Eddie pushed to his feet. “I’m still on duty!” He picked up his flashlight and stood over Rapp just in case he needed subduing.

Luke was on his knees beside Officer Fricke. “You got a pulse yet?” he asked.

The officer didn’t waste time answering. As Socko watched, he pinched Rapp’s nose and breathed into his mouth.

Rapp would hate a guy doing that to him, but Socko guessed it didn’t matter to Rapp anymore. Maybe nothing did.

Junebug hadn’t gotten out of the car, and Socko saw her watching with no expression on her face like she was in shock.

“Come on,” Luke urged. “Breathe!”

Socko’s feet were still in the water. He wanted to slip below the surface and disappear, but his great-grandfather still had an arm around his shoulders. “I’m proud of you,” the old man whispered. “You are one brave soldier.”

Socko stared into the pool at his waterlogged shoes. The laces, both untied, floated lazily in the water. Behind him, he could hear the grunt of Officer Fricke working on Rapp, doing chest compressions. If this was what being brave was like, it sucked.

Luke let out a sudden yell behind them.

When Socko turned, he saw that Rapp had rolled onto his side. As Officer Fricke sat him up, Rapp bent his knees and leaned forward. He puked a greenish liquid onto the concrete between his feet.

“Looks like he’ll live.” A bony hand rubbed Socko’s back.

Officer Fricke got on the radio with the ambulance, trying to explain where they were.

“I’m taking this boy to the ER,” the General said, squeezing Socko’s shoulder.

“There’ll be an ambulance here soon,” the officer said. “And I need to question the kid.”

“You know where he lives. ‘Til then, you take care of the hoodlum. I’ll take care of the hero.”

Socko didn’t get why he had to go to the hospital, but he was too tired to fight it, and it was still kind of hard to breathe.

Luke stood him on his feet. “You sure don’t mess around when you take care of business!” He ducked under Socko’s arm. “Go on, lean.”

His weight supported by Luke, Socko was able to stagger to the car. He felt Rapp’s eyes on him, but the tingle at the back of his neck was gone.

He wasn’t scared anymore.

Socko sat in the back seat, embarrassed that after lowering him into the car Luke had had to help him lift his feet and get them inside too. But the old men were making their way toward the car even more slowly, the General leaning on Eddie Corrigan.

“You have the right to remain silent …” Officer Fricke said to Rapp as he took the handcuffs off his belt.

“He doesn’t need to do that,” Socko muttered.

Uncle Eddie lowered the General into the backseat beside Socko. Luke climbed in from the other side, putting Socko in the middle. Uncle Eddie slid in behind the wheel. “Guess we took care of that boyfriend of yours!” he told Junebug, patting her knee.

“Hey, wait for me!” Livvy broke away from her mother. Her long
hair and yellow dress were sticking to her, but Livvy didn’t seem to notice. She grabbed the car door handle, then stopped. “Oh, Socko! You lost it! You lost Damien’s hat.”

Socko reached up, but his fingers found only the short bristly hair left by the General’s buzz cut. Somewhere along the way the hat had blown off, been scraped off, or floated away. Whatever had happened, Damien’s Superman lid was gone.

“Might be neither one of you will need it now,” said the General, watching Officer Fricke pull Rapp to his feet. “I suspect that hoodlum will be going away for a while. Your friend Damien will have a chance to rethink his choices.”

“Can he come for a visit?” Socko asked.

“So far everyone and their uncle has come for a visit, so why the heck not?” The General slapped the door, a signal to Eddie Corrigan to drive.

“Wait!” Livvy wrenched the door open and clambered over Luke’s legs.

“No!” Socko groaned. Everything on him hurt, but he was too tired to fend her off when she sat in his lap. And maybe he didn’t want to.

“Hey,” said the General with a scowl. “I’d like to see a little daylight between you two!”

But Livvy wasn’t going anywhere.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Composition by Melanie McMahon Ives

ISBN 978-1-4976-9439-2

Peachtree Publishers
1700 Chattahoochee Avenue
Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112
www.peachtree-online.com