Read Online By the light of the moon by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dean Koontz
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car.'
'—aurora borealis, aurora polaris, starlight—'
Seeing the focus of Jilly's attention, the giant said, 'This is
my brother, Shep.'
'—candlepower, foot-candle, luminous flux—'
'Pleased to meet you, Shep,' she said, not because she was in
fact pleased to meet him, but because she didn't know what else to
say, never having been in precisely this situation before.
'—light quantum, photon, bougie decimale ,' said
Shep without meeting her eyes, and continued rattling out a
meaningless series of words as Jilly and the older brother
conversed.
'I'm Dylan.'
He didn't look like a Dylan. He looked like a Bruno or a Samson,
or a Gentle Ben.
'Shep has a condition,' Dylan explained. 'Harmless. Don't worry.
He's just... not normal.'
'Well, who is these days?' Jilly said. 'Normality hasn't been
attainable since maybe 1953.' Woozy, she leaned against one of the
posts that supported the walkway cover. 'Gotta call the cops.'
'You said "smiley bastard."'
'Said it twice.'
'What smiley bastard?' he asked with such urgency that you would
have thought the missing Cadillac had been his, not hers.
'The smiley, peanut-eating, needle-poking, car-stealing bastard, that's what bastard.'
'Something's on your arm.'
Curiously, she expected to see the beetle resurrected. 'Oh. A
Band-Aid.'
'A bunny,' he said, his broad face cinching with worry.
'No, a Band-Aid.'
'Bunny,' he insisted. 'The son of a bitch gave you a bunny, and
I got a dancing dog.'
The walkway was well enough lighted for her to see that both she
and Dylan sported children's Band-Aids: a colorful capering rabbit
on hers, a jubilant puppy on his.
She heard Shep say, 'Lumen, candle-hour, lumen-hour,' before she
tuned him out again.
'I have to call the cops,' she remembered.
Dylan's voice, thus far earnest, grew more earnest still, and
quite grave, as well: 'No, no. We don't want cops. Didn't he tell
you how it is?'
'He who?'
'The lunatic doctor.'
'What doctor?'
'Your needle-poking bastard.'
'He was a doctor? I thought he was a salesman.'
'Why would you think he was a salesman?'
Jilly frowned. 'I'm not sure now.'
'Obviously, he's some sort of lunatic doctor.'
'Why's he knocking around a motel, attacking people and stealing
Coupe DeVilles? Why isn't he just killing patients in HMOs like
he's supposed to?'
'Are you all right?' Dylan asked, peering more closely at her.
'You don't look well.'
'I almost puked, then I didn't, then I almost did again, but
then I didn't. It's the anesthetic.'
'What anesthetic?'
'Maybe chloroform. The lunatic salesman.' She shook her head.
'No, you're right, he must be a doctor. Salesmen don't administer
anesthetics.'
'He just clubbed me on the head.'
'Now that sounds more like a salesman. I gotta call the
cops.'
'That's not an option. Didn't he tell you professional killers
are coming?'
'I'm glad they're not amateurs. If you have to be killed, you
might as well be killed efficiently. Anyway, you believe him ? He's a thug and a car thief.'
'I think he was telling the truth about this.'
'He's a lying sack of excrement,' she insisted.
Shep said, 'Lucence, refulgency, facula,' or at least that's
what it sounded like, although Jilly wasn't entirely sure that
those collections of syllables were actually words.
Dylan shifted his attention from Jilly to something beyond her,
and when she heard the roar of engines, she turned in search of the
source.
Past the parking lot lay a street. An embankment flanked the far
side of the street, and atop that long slope, the interstate
highway followed the east-to-west trail of the moon. Traveling at a
reckless speed, three SUVs descended the arc of an exit ramp.
'—light, illumination, radiance, ray—'
'Shep, I think you've started repeating yourself,' Dylan noted,
though he remained riveted on the SUVs.
The three vehicles were identical black Chevrolet Suburbans. As
darkly tinted as Darth Vader's face shield, the windows concealed
the occupants.
'—brightness, brilliance, beam,
'—aurora borealis, aurora polaris, starlight—'
Seeing the focus of Jilly's attention, the giant said, 'This is
my brother, Shep.'
'—candlepower, foot-candle, luminous flux—'
'Pleased to meet you, Shep,' she said, not because she was in
fact pleased to meet him, but because she didn't know what else to
say, never having been in precisely this situation before.
'—light quantum, photon, bougie decimale ,' said
Shep without meeting her eyes, and continued rattling out a
meaningless series of words as Jilly and the older brother
conversed.
'I'm Dylan.'
He didn't look like a Dylan. He looked like a Bruno or a Samson,
or a Gentle Ben.
'Shep has a condition,' Dylan explained. 'Harmless. Don't worry.
He's just... not normal.'
'Well, who is these days?' Jilly said. 'Normality hasn't been
attainable since maybe 1953.' Woozy, she leaned against one of the
posts that supported the walkway cover. 'Gotta call the cops.'
'You said "smiley bastard."'
'Said it twice.'
'What smiley bastard?' he asked with such urgency that you would
have thought the missing Cadillac had been his, not hers.
'The smiley, peanut-eating, needle-poking, car-stealing bastard, that's what bastard.'
'Something's on your arm.'
Curiously, she expected to see the beetle resurrected. 'Oh. A
Band-Aid.'
'A bunny,' he said, his broad face cinching with worry.
'No, a Band-Aid.'
'Bunny,' he insisted. 'The son of a bitch gave you a bunny, and
I got a dancing dog.'
The walkway was well enough lighted for her to see that both she
and Dylan sported children's Band-Aids: a colorful capering rabbit
on hers, a jubilant puppy on his.
She heard Shep say, 'Lumen, candle-hour, lumen-hour,' before she
tuned him out again.
'I have to call the cops,' she remembered.
Dylan's voice, thus far earnest, grew more earnest still, and
quite grave, as well: 'No, no. We don't want cops. Didn't he tell
you how it is?'
'He who?'
'The lunatic doctor.'
'What doctor?'
'Your needle-poking bastard.'
'He was a doctor? I thought he was a salesman.'
'Why would you think he was a salesman?'
Jilly frowned. 'I'm not sure now.'
'Obviously, he's some sort of lunatic doctor.'
'Why's he knocking around a motel, attacking people and stealing
Coupe DeVilles? Why isn't he just killing patients in HMOs like
he's supposed to?'
'Are you all right?' Dylan asked, peering more closely at her.
'You don't look well.'
'I almost puked, then I didn't, then I almost did again, but
then I didn't. It's the anesthetic.'
'What anesthetic?'
'Maybe chloroform. The lunatic salesman.' She shook her head.
'No, you're right, he must be a doctor. Salesmen don't administer
anesthetics.'
'He just clubbed me on the head.'
'Now that sounds more like a salesman. I gotta call the
cops.'
'That's not an option. Didn't he tell you professional killers
are coming?'
'I'm glad they're not amateurs. If you have to be killed, you
might as well be killed efficiently. Anyway, you believe him ? He's a thug and a car thief.'
'I think he was telling the truth about this.'
'He's a lying sack of excrement,' she insisted.
Shep said, 'Lucence, refulgency, facula,' or at least that's
what it sounded like, although Jilly wasn't entirely sure that
those collections of syllables were actually words.
Dylan shifted his attention from Jilly to something beyond her,
and when she heard the roar of engines, she turned in search of the
source.
Past the parking lot lay a street. An embankment flanked the far
side of the street, and atop that long slope, the interstate
highway followed the east-to-west trail of the moon. Traveling at a
reckless speed, three SUVs descended the arc of an exit ramp.
'—light, illumination, radiance, ray—'
'Shep, I think you've started repeating yourself,' Dylan noted,
though he remained riveted on the SUVs.
The three vehicles were identical black Chevrolet Suburbans. As
darkly tinted as Darth Vader's face shield, the windows concealed
the occupants.
'—brightness, brilliance, beam,
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