Hunter's Moon

Joe’s heart was hammering wildly and his breath came in ragged gasps. His feet crunched over the gravel trail as he ran. Instinctively, he knew that something was badly wrong in his world, but his memory was a blank.

Up ahead, a woman with long hair stood gazing out over the lake. Joe kept calling to her, but she made no sign that she’d heard him.

“Wait,” he called again, getting closer. “Please, wait for me.”

He felt as if he’d been running for days. Sweat stung his eyes.

The woman stood statue-still, but Joe was terrified he wouldn’t reach her.

“Don’t… go… anywhere…” he panted.

Even as he arrived at her side, she kept her eyes on the lake.

Joe was nearly dropping from exhaustion. He considered the woman again and was stunned.

“Alice!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

She turned to him with a serene smile.

“I’m always here, Joe.”

“What? Always here? At the lake? At night? Alice, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I… I was running from something…”

“I mean I’m always with you,” said Alice. “By your side.”

Joe smiled. It was good that she was by his side; he needed somebody by his side. He saw the tenderness in her face and wondered why he didn’t feel comforted, why he couldn’t shake the feelings of wrongness and dread.

She stroked a hand down his bare arm. He realised that he was only wearing a tee-shirt and suddenly felt cold to the marrow. There was blood on the tee-shirt. His teeth began to chatter.

“I don’t come here as often now,” said Alice. “Not after what happened.”

Joe stared at her. “I don’t… What?”

“I never even liked him,” said Alice.

“Him?”

“Simon.”

Ah… Simon. Joe’s business partner. Best friend at university… then all those years together creating Perfect Future Pharmaceuticals. Why was she bringing him up? But, yes, Joe had always worried about the little looks Simon sometimes gave Alice.

“I’ve never been unfaithful to you, Joe. You do know that?”

“I… yes… Alice, sometimes it’s just…”

A sharp crack rang out.

“What was that?” he said.

“It’s somebody with an axe,” said Alice.

“An axe? What are they doing with an axe?”

“There’s a woodshed further down the track,” she said. “Look, you can see it under the light of the hunter’s moon.”

“What?” said Joe. He glanced towards the woodshed. A volley of nervous laughter spilled out of him. “Under the light of the hunter’s moon? What an odd thing to say.”

“It is a hunter’s moon,” said Alice.

“Yes… I can see that. But what an odd thing to say. Alice… I feel strange. What are we doing here? I was running from something, but I can’t remember what.”

She smiled. It was a smile he loved, the one that lit up her whole face. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to take her in his arms and hold her tightly and bury his face in her long dark hair that always smelled so clean.

“Maybe you’re running from the truth?” she said.

“The truth?”

“Don’t worry, Joe. I still love you. In spite of everything. But you have to watch that explosive temper of yours. And all the wrong-footed suspicion and jealousy.”

“Er, the therapy’s been helping me. You said it was helping. I’ve been trying so hard… Let’s get out of here. It’s creepy.”

Alice turned back to the lake. Joe followed the direction of her gaze. There was a huddled shape bobbing in the dark water.

“Looks like someone’s in trouble,” Alice said calmly.

“Trouble?” said Joe. “They’re not even moving. This is bad. This is really bad. Have you got your phone? Ring an ambulance. I’ll have to go in the water. See if there’s anything I can do.”

“I’ve lost my phone,” said Alice. “Maybe I could go and ask for help at the woodshed.”

“No! Stay right here! Please…”

Joe made his tentative way across the soft, muddy shore. Coldness crept around his ankles and into his shoes.

“Hello?” he called to the person in the lake. “Can you hear me?”

There was no response from the huddled shape.

The water rose up Joe’s legs. He waded forward, catching his breath as it became abruptly deeper and he sank to his waist.

Out of the dark sky, something swooped at him. A large bird of prey. It sailed gracefully through the night air, the undersides of its spread-wings as white as death in the moonlight.

Joe cried out and flailed his arms. He looked back at Alice.

“Stay there,” he said. “Please stay there.”

He was gratified that she gave him an encouraging smile and a little wave. He turned and kept going. The water grew colder but no deeper.

“Hello?” he said, almost there. “I’m Joe. I’m going to help you. Okay? I’m going to touch you now. Try to turn you over.”

The person was lying face down in the water.

“This is bad,” whispered Joe. “This is really bad.”

He clasped the shoulder of a sodden coat with one hand and a hip with the other and rolled the body over. It moved awkwardly, stiffly. The face was bloated but he saw that it was a man. There was a gash at the side of the head, which looked as if it had been made with an axe…

Joe recoiled so violently that he lost his balance and went under. He came back up spluttering. Then he was thrashing for the shore.

“Alice?” he shouted.

Alice wasn’t there. Had she gone to the woodshed? Why did she always disappear when he needed her the most?

“Alice?” he called.

All he could hear was the dull crack of chopping from the woodshed. He trudged along the trail, so weary, his legs so tired.

The hunter’s moon was bright above a rag of dark cloud. In the doorway of the woodshed, he saw the figure of a man swinging an axe.

“Excuse me,” said Joe, and the axe-man stopped.

“It’s you,” said the man, lowering the axe and coming forward. The face was hidden in shadow but the voice was familiar.

“Who are you?” said Joe. “Er… there’s a man in the lake. I think he might be dead. I mean, he is dead. Definitely.”

“Cold, was it?” said the man.

“The body?”

“The water.”

“Did you hear what I said? There’s someone in… Do you live around here? Have you got a phone on you? We need to…”

The man laughed.

“Are you even listening?” said Joe. “There’s a body in the lake. We need to call an ambulance, the police. Er… Have you seen a woman with long dark hair? Her name’s Alice.”

“You need to wake up to the truth,” said the man. He turned his head so that his face was lit by the moon.

Joe gasped. He was looking at himself.

“Now,” said this other Joe. “It’s time.”

The man went back inside the woodshed and blended with the deep shadows. Joe followed, numb with shock.

The darkness crowded in and a powerful weariness washed over him. He banged his shins against a hard edge. Some kind of rough, narrow bed. Unable to resist the weakness in his legs any longer, he sank down onto the bed. His thoughts grew muddled.

A moment of peaceful nothingness, then Joe had the sensation of drowning in air. He gasped for breath, cried out and sat up abruptly in the dim light of the prison cell. Realisation came in a flash.

The recurring dream… and the inevitable waking to a reality far worse. A year ago, in a blind, paranoid rage, he’d killed Simon with an axe, then dumped the body in the lake.

The shutter in the cell door opened.

“Okay in there, Joe? Heard you yelling.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sandra. Bad dream...”

The warder closed the shutter and moved away along the catwalk, her boots resounding on the steel-plate floor.

Clomp clomp. Clomp clomp.

Marking time. The slow march of time.