Moon Upon the Lake

Emma stood at the end of the short dock staring at the silver moon above her. It hung bright and wide in the sky, beckoning her like a pale goddess of dreams. The sound of toads singing scratchy güiro notes echo off of the thick wall of cedars and pines that surround the motionless lake before her. Behind her, an old plank house, hidden from view by the forest that surrounded it, squats stubbornly in a clearing. The house was old enough to have seen centuries pass and generations born within its walls. Emma’s direct ancestor had built it and her grandmother was the last of them born in the home rather than a hospital. It had changed over the years, a new log roof, two small bedrooms, and even a window. There was a bathroom with plumbing and a kitchen/living room combination. It was sacred to Emma and her family because it was one of the few things that had remained untouched by the hands of white men. It was their ancestral home. Listening to the chorus of creatures from the end of the dock had become a nightly ritual for her. It brought her peace of mind so that when she slid into the cold pocket of her bed later, she could manage to sleep.

Cold nights didn’t bother her, she and her people had lived in this far corner of the country for more years than recorded. It was the assault of memories that stood hauntingly in the corners of her room, keeping her awake, reminding her of her failure. The music of the lake and its inhabitants calmed her soul. She turned her back to the content smile of the moon and headed down the dock towards home. When her foot hit the sandy earth she paused, unsure of what had caught her attention, and turned her head to eye the shoreline tentatively. Emma could see clearly because it was bathed in silver light. Each rock and bolder scattered there had a damp luster to it, tiny waves sprinkling them with water at each tide. A fallen log that lay among the rocks, half-submerged, caught Emma’s eye. It was oddly shaped and it hadn’t been there when she passed no more than an hour ago. Stepping closer was the last thing Emma wanted to do but her feet had stubbornly carried her closer. It looked less and less like a log the closer she stepped, and more and more like something she should just call the authorities about. Movement, nearly imperceivable, sent a chill through her; starting from the nape of her neck and moving down her spine. Had she just found a dead body? Was her family home now a crime scene?

After a moment the ice that had held her frozen shattered and she scrambled over the sand and pebbles to reach the body, praying that the person was not dead. This side of the shore was flat enough to walk on but an increased speed could easily lead to a swollen ankle and bed rest. When she slid to a stop next to what was now clearly a woman, gravel shot from beneath her boots violently, a few popping against the mud-soaked form before her. Emma had hours of Washington State search and rescue experience under her belt, yet, panic seized her mind and muddled her thoughts. Ground Pounder or not, all of the training she’d received had somehow sunk into the cold black lake behind her. With a deep breath, she reviewed her training. Assess the situation, list the facts, prioritize them, create a plan, and then do it. With a fluidity that only comes with muscle memory, she checked the woman’s pulse and breathing- both were weak-, scanned her body for wounds- left shoulder laceration-, and felt for broken bones- none presently obvious. Priority number one, stabilize the subject. She stood and turned to rush home where her first aid and disaster kit was tucked beneath her bed but was stopped.

“Wait…”

The sound alarmed her but the cold hand on her arm is what brought an abbreviated shriek from deep within her. Ashamed of her behavior- although the hand was akin to that of a corpse, cold and muculent- she knelt down to speak.

“You’re awake? Please, lie still we don’t know-”

“I'm fine,” she wheezed as she pulled against Emma in an attempt to stand on her own feet.

Emma hoisted her up and wrapped an arm around her waist supportively, even then the woman moved painfully slow. When they walked through the door of the house, Emma deposited the woman in a chair at the small kitchen table and ran to get her first aid kit. The kitchen was more a kitchenette with a refrigerator, a countertop with a sink and a gas stovetop, and a toaster oven tucked into the corner. Like most living rooms, this one consisted of a sofa and a TV standing opposite each other. Unlike other living rooms, this one was sparsely furnished but still felt like home. A wood stove was ablaze, keeping most of the common areas warm and knocking the chill off of the bathroom and bedrooms. She drew her wandering eyes back as Emma bounced into the room with her supplies.

“Could I… maybe shower first,” she asked nervously, “it’ll be easier for you…” Emma notice her looking at the medical kit she carried.

“Sure, it’ll be better for both of us.”

With a smile, Emma ushered her to the bathroom and started the water for her. She brought her a towel and change of clothes, they were around the same size from what Emma could see. Now all she could do is wait. Twenty minutes later the woman came out of the bathroom dressed and clean. As Emma had expected, they fit her perfectly. Once the treatment of wounds was underway the woman spoke up.

“My name is Enola.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Enola, I’m Emma.”

Emma cleaned and bandaged the laceration on Enola’s shoulder and looked her over for any more wounds that needed treatment. Surprisingly, none were needed, Enola’s skin seemed almost flawless. The women resembled each other in subtle ways, same clothing size, face shape, and nearly black hair. Unlike Emma’s long braid, Enola wore her hair cut short. It had soaked in water from the shower she had just taken and gained a wavy pattern that framed her face. As the silence grew awkward, Emma stood and grabbed any snacks she could find in her kitchen. Chocolate chip cookies, kettle popcorn, and a couple of bottles of her father’s home-brewed beer. With little fanfare, Enola began opening the cookies and recounting her story to Emma.

Enola told her that she had been held against her will by men, but not just any men, men in dark robes who spoke in different tongues. For weeks they cut her and took her blood for their sick rituals. Tonight was her only chance of ever escaping and she took it, not looking back even once. She was found out by the night watchman but she ran hard. She didn’t stop for a long time because she knew what was behind her. Eventually, she came to the lake’s edge and had to dive in to save herself. Emma shuddered at the idea that the other missing women in her community may also be captives to these very same men. Enola told her everything she could remember about the men but unfortunately had never seen or heard any other women while she was being held. Emma tried not to let the disappointment show on her face, after all, Enola had fought, escaped, and could now return home to her family.

“My father is on his way, along with the sheriff, okay? It won’t be long,” Emma said. “You must be exhausted, would you like to rest while we wait?”

Enola nodded and Emma showed her to the second bedroom where she could sleep for the next hour, within minutes Enola was snoring quietly. Emma retreated to her room and sat against her headboard to review the last few hours of her life. She had arrived at the house in search of solitude. What she found had quickly pushed her out of self-pity and into action, into empathy. She smiled. Enola would go home to recover and live her life. One down, too many to go. A sudden creak caught her attention. Unsure of where it had come from, Emma stood and slid over to her door that stood ajar. The living room lamp was still on, saturating the room with its golden light, but she saw nothing. Feeling foolish, she straightened up and pushed her door aside to get a drink from the refrigerator. As she walked down the hall a sickening feeling came over her, one she had felt before, dread. Her subconscious mind was screaming at her that something wasn’t right, to turn around, and call for help. Stepping out into the living room suddenly felt like an overwhelming task, something that she just couldn’t do. As she stood, petrified, she looked at her feet that refused to obey her commands and noticed a strange “lump” shaped shadow along the wall in the living room. A shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there.

One step back is all she could manage before a huge gloved hand shot out and gripped her neck like a vice. Emma was not a small woman, she stood at five feet and seven inches and carried a strong 170 pounds with her, but this was beyond her capabilities. She kicked and tried to pry the hand from her neck but it would not budge. The assailant was over the height of six feet and covered in black robes that seemed to swallow the light around them. Emma’s peripherals began to fade, her vision tunneling as adrenaline coursed through her veins, pushing her into flight mode. Kicking left, her foot hit the bathroom doorframe which gave her leverage to shove her body backward like a diver leaping from a diving board. Her weight brought them both down hard, the wood floor groaning in protest. The vice grip loosened and Emma wouldn’t let this opportunity go. So she kicked, she kicked as her life depended on it, and she was free. Without a second to think she let out a shrill scream that seemed to rattle the very window of her ancestral home. This wasn’t the cry of a dying animal but one of a luna wolf protecting her young.

Enola rushed from the bedroom, confused from sleep but screaming all the same, and Emma pushed her back. The dark figure stood slowly, a disgusting, throaty laugh spilling from beneath those layers of black silk. Enola screamed again. The robes fluttered through the air as they followed the fist that veered towards Emma’s face. It was fast, too fast for Emma to dodge, so she threw her arms up in front of her face hoping to stymie some of its impact. Thunder clapped inside of her skull. She staggered back, unable to stay on her feet, and hit the floor. Emma could hear Enola screaming and wanted to tell her to hide but the walls wouldn’t stop spinning long enough for her to get the words out. Emma pushed herself up and stood, forcing her body to be a wall between Enola and the monster that had come for her.

“Why do you fight for her,” the voice rumbled. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Emma pressed her palm against the wall to steady herself. Only a little longer, she told herself until it became a mantra in her mind until it became her strength.

“Maybe,” she tried to put on a brave voice but it still wavered. “But she doesn’t belong to you either.”

“There must be balance, Emma.” The sound of her name on this asshole’s tongue made Emma want to vomit. “She came from some the same place as I, impossibly far yet so intimate.”

“Your riddles mean nothing mother fucker,” Emma spat. “You won’t have her.”

The figure straightened, somehow becoming more monstrous, more horrifying, but Emma did not flinch. He laughed one more time, the sound was full of arrogance and malice. Two steps were all it took for him to reach them and as he shoved Emma to the side, pinning her against the wall, Enola shrieked and collapsed where she stood. Emma struggled as much as she could but to no avail. Her body was going weaker, her mind was going numb, and she decided that this is what it felt like to die. Death was just mind-numbing helplessness and then your brain simply shut down. Not a bad way to go, she thought, she just wished she could have said goodbye to her dad one last time. Her world faded to the blackness of space, galaxies flashed behind her eyelids, spinning wildly around her head; then it happened. The birth of the universe, explosions of light and fire, dust and ice, earth and suns spinning manically- beautiful chaos. It was deafening- BANG... BANG... BANG!

When Emma woke everything was white. She wore a white gown and lay on a white bed, the lights above glared down at her, burning her eyes. Was she in heaven? Did this mean the white men were right? Would she get to meet Jesus? Quiet beeps began to seep into her consciousness and she looked around, realizing she was in a hospital bed. Her father sat in the only chair in the room. His wrinkled face drooped as he snored in blissful sleep.

“Daddy,” she croaked.

Her father, Elu Bluesky, jerked himself upright and hurried to her bedside.

“Oh, you had me worried there,” he said with tears in his eyes.

“I had it under control-”

“I know you did sweetheart, Enola told us everything. Sweet girl.”

Her father told her about how he and the sheriff heard Enola screaming as they pulled up to the house in the sheriff’s pickup. How they had kicked in the door and the sheriff had emptied his clip in the man’s back. He wasn’t invincible, under all those robes was an eighty-year-old man, wrinkled and frail. They were both out cold, but Enola woke up right away, Emma had remained unconscious for a full day.

“Where is she? Is she here?” Emma tried to sit up, prepared to get out of bed to find the woman she had protected.

“Ah-ah-ah, lay down, doctor’s orders,” he said sternly but chuckled at her behavior. “When the doctor’s clear you for visitors, you can see her.

“Daddy, I’m fine-”

“You most definitely are not,” his voice held no rebuke. “But how could I deny you, my heart, time with the girl you fought so hard for? I could have lost you, Emma, but you are strong.”

He stood and walked to the door of her hospital room and peeked out. After a moment he stepped back and a pair of eyes looked in. Those eyes were foreign but so familiar and Emma had missed them. When Emma smiled crookedly Enola rushed to her side and threw herself over her. Emma flinched as pain shot through her back and Enola backed away.

“Thank you,” she started voice damp with tears. “Thank you, Emma, you didn’t have to.

“Yes, I did,” Emma said with finality.

“I’m not… from here, just like he said,” Enola looked at her hand as it grasped Emma’s.

“If that were true, then you would not have washed up on the shore of my lake.”

“What if they return-”

“Then they’ll have to face me, again. Luna Wolf,” she joked, making claws out of her fingers and growling.

They gazed at each other, both wondering what would come next. There was so much to learn about each other and even more to learn about staying alive if those monsters ever came back. The nurse opened the door of Emma’s room but turned around and closed it softly. Everyone had heard the story by now and knew not to get in between those two. Emma lay sleeping with her arms around Enola who slept too. They had no intention of going back to the plank house anytime soon but they both knew that, eventually, their paths would return them to that still and silent lake that shimmered under the moonlight.