Luna Nightmares

From the collection: Murder at Thompson Bog
Episode 4

Ted's Grand Cherokee was already in the parking lot early next morning.

“What're you doing here at this ungodly hour?” asked Ted, looking up.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied.

“Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come in and make sure we weren't on the wrong track again. You?”

“About the same,” I said, trying to find something to look at.

“Too many voices in my head,” said Ted, returning to whatever he was working on before I came in.

“Me too. Is it warm in here, or is it me?”

“It's you. The air kicked on more than an hour ago.”

“You've been here more than an hour?” I asked, “How did you get in?”

“I got them to give me a key; I've been coming earlier lately.”

“But you're here when I leave.” I was wondering if I might not be right, there was something wrong with Ted.

“Not for long, I usually follow you out. It's just that we came up with Luna-A and Luna-B. Now we've got “C” and I don't want to be the guy who killed a bunch of subjects with three products in a row.”

“I share some of that blame, you know. And we're not alone here, we have a large staff of people, anyone of which could have discovered the flaws in “A” and “B” and didn't. You can't carry this all on your shoulders.”

“I'm not, Phil,” said Ted, getting up and reaching for his empty coffee cup, “I'm just trying to make sure we don't have to formulate a Luna-D.” Ted left for the coffee room.

In the trash, were two blue envelopes. Ted had been using some of the “B” samples. Had Ted been retesting? But we discovered what was causing the results in “B”. Why would he have Luna-B out?

At the end of the day, Ted seemed fine and normal. He even left at a reasonable time. Ted gave me a wave and ambled off to his Grand Cherokee. It looked like another world to me, his gleaming clean Grand Cherokee, knowing that he would go home to the beautiful Alice who would have dinner on the table. Two endearing children would run in to hug their daddy and the cares of the day would fade into oblivion without the use of artificial nerve-dullers.

I drove my aging wreck to the poor side of town where I nuked a burger and fries meal that didn't live up to it's advertising. Settling down in front of the television, I reached for the bottle of hooch, then stopped myself. No, three didn't do it, four certainly wouldn't. I would try my theory and have none.

Just before I toddled off to bed, I breathed a quiet prayer that Carol would fall in love and get remarried, then I could have my paycheck back and could move out of that lousy neighborhood.

The breeze through the window was just right, the bums were quiet and there were few cars at that late hour.

Then the dreams came. I saw the table, Ted's kids slumped over and Ted with his note, roughly torn from the pad at work and carrying it's chilling message. The blue envelope fell from his hand to the floor. My gaze followed the envelope to the floor. Then a strange cry entered the scene and I woke up to a siren passing; an ambulance going by. I turned and looked at the clock – little after three in the morning. I got up and went to the couch, turning on the television. There was nothing on, so I turned it off, laid back on the couch and drifted off.