Read Online By the light of the moon by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online
Authors: Dean Koontz
Tags: #genre
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unpacked their
toothbrushes and shaving gear, but he'd left a plastic pharmacy
bottle, containing a prescription antihistamine, on the counter
beside the sink. Right now, allergies were the least of his
problems; however, even if he were being eaten alive by a vile
orange fungus and simultaneously morphing into a reptile, while
also being hunted by vicious killers, a runny nose and a sinus
headache were complications best avoided.
'—chemiluminescence, crystalloluminescence, counterglow,
Gegenschein—'
Returning from the bathroom, Dylan said hopefully, 'Let's go,
Shep. Go, now, come on, move .'
'—violet ray, ultraviolet ray—'
'This is serious, Shep.'
'—infrared ray—'
'We're in trouble here, Shep.'
'—actinic ray—'
'Don't make me be mean,' Dylan pleaded.
'—daylight, dayshine—'
'Please don't make me be mean.'
'—sunshine, sunbeam—'
8
'Hickdead,' Jilly said again to the closed door, and
then maybe she called a brief time-out, because the next thing she
knew, she was no longer in the tilting-turning bed, but lay
facedown on the floor. For an instant she couldn't remember the
nature of this place, but then she gagged on a dirty-carpet stench
that made it impossible to hope that she had checked into the
presidential suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
After heroically rising to her hands and knees, she crawled away
from the treacherous bed. When she realized that the telephone
stood on the nightstand, she executed a 180-degree turn and crawled
back the way she had come.
She reached up, fumbled at the travel clock, and then pulled the
phone off the nightstand. It came easily, trailing a severed cord.
Evidently, the peanut lover had cut it to prevent her from making a
quick call to the cops.
Jilly considered crying out for help, but she worried that her
assailant, if still in the vicinity, might be the first to respond.
She didn't want another injection, didn't want to be quieted by a
kick in the head, and didn't want to have to listen to any more of
his droning monologue.
By focusing her attention and by bringing all her Amazonian
strength to bear, she managed to lever herself off the floor and
sit on the edge of the bed. This was a fine thing. She smiled,
suddenly suffused with pride. Baby could sit up by herself.
Emboldened by this success, Jilly attempted to rise to her feet.
She swayed on the way up, pressing her left hand against the
nightstand to steady herself, but although she sagged slightly at
the knees, she didn't collapse. Another fine thing. Baby could
stand upright, as erect as any primate and more fully erect than
some.
Best of all, she hadn't puked, as earlier she'd been sure she
would. She no longer felt nauseated, just... peculiar.
Confident that she could stand without supportive furniture and
that she would remember how to walk as soon as she tried, Jilly
made her way from the bed to the door in a parabolic arc that
compensated for the movement of the floor, which rolled lazily like
the deck of a ship in mild seas.
The doorknob presented a mechanical challenge, but after she
fumbled the door open and navigated the threshold, she found the
warm night to be surprisingly more invigorating than the cool motel
room. The thirsting desert air sucked moisture from her, and along
with the moisture went some of her wooziness.
She turned right, toward the motel office, which lay at the end
of a distressingly long and complicated series of covered walkways
that seemed to have been patterned after any laboratory's rat
maze.
Within a few steps, she realized that her Coupe DeVille had
vanished. She had parked the car twenty feet from her room; but it
no longer stood where she recalled leaving it. Empty blacktop.
She weaved toward the vacant parking slot, squinting at the
pavement as though she expected to discover an explanation for the
vehicle's disappearance: perhaps a concise but considerate memo
– IOU one beloved, midnight-blue Cadillac Coupe DeVille,
fully loaded.
Instead she found an
toothbrushes and shaving gear, but he'd left a plastic pharmacy
bottle, containing a prescription antihistamine, on the counter
beside the sink. Right now, allergies were the least of his
problems; however, even if he were being eaten alive by a vile
orange fungus and simultaneously morphing into a reptile, while
also being hunted by vicious killers, a runny nose and a sinus
headache were complications best avoided.
'—chemiluminescence, crystalloluminescence, counterglow,
Gegenschein—'
Returning from the bathroom, Dylan said hopefully, 'Let's go,
Shep. Go, now, come on, move .'
'—violet ray, ultraviolet ray—'
'This is serious, Shep.'
'—infrared ray—'
'We're in trouble here, Shep.'
'—actinic ray—'
'Don't make me be mean,' Dylan pleaded.
'—daylight, dayshine—'
'Please don't make me be mean.'
'—sunshine, sunbeam—'
8
'Hickdead,' Jilly said again to the closed door, and
then maybe she called a brief time-out, because the next thing she
knew, she was no longer in the tilting-turning bed, but lay
facedown on the floor. For an instant she couldn't remember the
nature of this place, but then she gagged on a dirty-carpet stench
that made it impossible to hope that she had checked into the
presidential suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
After heroically rising to her hands and knees, she crawled away
from the treacherous bed. When she realized that the telephone
stood on the nightstand, she executed a 180-degree turn and crawled
back the way she had come.
She reached up, fumbled at the travel clock, and then pulled the
phone off the nightstand. It came easily, trailing a severed cord.
Evidently, the peanut lover had cut it to prevent her from making a
quick call to the cops.
Jilly considered crying out for help, but she worried that her
assailant, if still in the vicinity, might be the first to respond.
She didn't want another injection, didn't want to be quieted by a
kick in the head, and didn't want to have to listen to any more of
his droning monologue.
By focusing her attention and by bringing all her Amazonian
strength to bear, she managed to lever herself off the floor and
sit on the edge of the bed. This was a fine thing. She smiled,
suddenly suffused with pride. Baby could sit up by herself.
Emboldened by this success, Jilly attempted to rise to her feet.
She swayed on the way up, pressing her left hand against the
nightstand to steady herself, but although she sagged slightly at
the knees, she didn't collapse. Another fine thing. Baby could
stand upright, as erect as any primate and more fully erect than
some.
Best of all, she hadn't puked, as earlier she'd been sure she
would. She no longer felt nauseated, just... peculiar.
Confident that she could stand without supportive furniture and
that she would remember how to walk as soon as she tried, Jilly
made her way from the bed to the door in a parabolic arc that
compensated for the movement of the floor, which rolled lazily like
the deck of a ship in mild seas.
The doorknob presented a mechanical challenge, but after she
fumbled the door open and navigated the threshold, she found the
warm night to be surprisingly more invigorating than the cool motel
room. The thirsting desert air sucked moisture from her, and along
with the moisture went some of her wooziness.
She turned right, toward the motel office, which lay at the end
of a distressingly long and complicated series of covered walkways
that seemed to have been patterned after any laboratory's rat
maze.
Within a few steps, she realized that her Coupe DeVille had
vanished. She had parked the car twenty feet from her room; but it
no longer stood where she recalled leaving it. Empty blacktop.
She weaved toward the vacant parking slot, squinting at the
pavement as though she expected to discover an explanation for the
vehicle's disappearance: perhaps a concise but considerate memo
– IOU one beloved, midnight-blue Cadillac Coupe DeVille,
fully loaded.
Instead she found an
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