A Black Moon Is Rising

By Roger Darrell Starnes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing
• Release date: Mar 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888872673

Roger Darrell Starnes

Roger Starnes was born in Galveston Texas, March 5th 1949. He spent 3 years in the Marine Corps from May 1966 to May 1969. Roger currently lives in Fort Worth.

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Copyright © 2023 by Roger Darrell Starnes.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Westwood Books Publishing LLC

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www.westwoodbookspublishing.com

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Kate LaCour;

What a great new friend I have. Kate was the

Editor-n-Chief of the UT looth anniversary Yearbook.

She turned her beam of talent onto my manuscript.

Thank you Kate for making this book publishable.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to the memory of my

Mother Marjorie Mae Allen.

She’s waiting at the Gates for my brother and me.

SEMPER FIDELIS

CHAPTER 1

Piercing cold wind blew from the north, bringing sleet and freezing rain with it. A cold darkness crept over the deserted buildings of the Fort Worth stockyards. The street people withdrew to the empty buildings to find what warmth they could. A flickering fire caused shadows to dance about the inner walls of the abandoned cattle barns. Two men wrapped in blankets sat close to the fire, and watched as a man slept in the grip of a nightmare.

Lucas finally spoke. Look at his face, Booker. You can see the fear in it. What’s he dreamin’ about?

Booker moved closer to the heat and watched his sleeping friend with compassion. Vietnam, he said. The war lingers in his thoughts by day and haunts his dreams at night. He’s never really at peace. He told me those very words himself.

Lucas’ eyes widened as Booker talked. Booker pulled out his last cigarette and lit it. Even restless sleep is better than none. If the nightmare gets any worse, I’ll have to wake him up.

Booker took a draw on his cigarette and blew the smoke toward the fire. He watched the smoke rise with the heat. One night about six months after I met him, we were drinking cheap whiskey. He started telling me a crazy story that happened in Vietnam but he caught himself and never finished. Lucas, all I know is when he was in the Marines, he was sent to North Vietnam to kill some high-ranking official. He was captured and spent several months as a prisoner of war. Somehow he escaped.

Who was he going to kill? Lucas asked.

I don’t know and I didn’t dare bother ’im by asking. Booker pulled a half-pint bottle of whiskey from his back pocket and took a long drink.

He moved the bottle toward Lucas. Wanna sip?

Yeah, Lucas said. I could use it. You have me spooked with all this talk about killing.

Booker handed the bottle to Lucas. Lucas took a drink and looked at the sleeping man. It ain’t normal seeing a white man as young as him living on the streets, Lucas said. He can’t be more than forty. Maybe he’s a crazy killer or something?

No, he’s not crazy. He gave up on himself and walked out on life just like we did. He’s a good man and he’ll share anything he has. Let me tell you something about Dewayne. That’s his name, Dewayne Stevens. He has eyes like a hawk and a sixth sense for danger like a spider. There’s a razor-sharp knife strapped to his left ankle and he’ll use it if he needs to. He’s not afraid of nothing or nobod….

Booker stopped talking and watched Dewayne’s face as he slept.

Something in his dreams scares him, Booker said. If he don’t find a way to stop it, it’ll put him his grave someday.

Lucas handed the bottle back to Booker. Booker turned it up and finished the last of it. There is one thing strange about Dewayne, Booker said. He’s not unhappy living the way he does.

If he likes living here, Lucas said, he is crazy.

Booker grinned. Dewayne told me that he has fallen from the grace of God. He believes God brought him here as punishment until he redeems himself.

Lucas stared at Booker in disbelief. That’s crazy talk!

Booker shook his head. I don’t know, maybe that’s why he’s not unhappy here. This place is just temporary to him. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow mornin’ we got to find something to eat and it’s going to be cold misery on the streets. Booker put the last of the wood on the fire and lay down close to the heat. He glanced at Dewayne and smiled. His friend’s nightmare had ceased. Lucas was already asleep when Booker closed his eyes.

The sky cleared with the passing hours and the temperature dropped into the low twenties. Soft moonlight shone through the shattered windows and pierced the darkness. Glowing cinders and an occasional flicker were all that remained of the fire.

Dewayne’s eyes suddenly opened. For a few minutes, he lay motionless and watched the smoke from the dying fire drift along the concrete floor. Trying to get warm, he sat up and wrapped the blanket tightly around himself. After two years of living on the streets with their soul crushing solitude, Dewayne Stevens had mastered talking to himself within the privacy of his own thoughts. It will take a hundred years to get the smell of cow shit out of this damn place, he thought. He twisted his back trying to make the joints snap into place. It has been three days since I moved furniture for Peak load Labor, and my back still aches, he thought.

Booker sat up. Good evening to you, Dewayne.

Hello, Booker. You couldn’t find any firewood?

No, man. There ain’t a piece of firewood for five miles. I was going to take some from the grocery store but they put it inside on Sundays.

Dewayne laughed. I can’t blame them with people like you and me around, it wouldn’t last long.

Lucas moved in his sleep. Dewayne glanced at him. Who’s your new alley cat? he asked. I found him standing on a corner about to freeze to death. His name is Lucas.

That’s how I ended up here, Dewayne said. You found me waiting for a bus. Man, you were as lost as anybody I’ve ever seen, Booker said. I remember the first time I looked into your eyes. They were empty, your soul wasn’t there.

I know, Dewayne said.

Is that your money on the ground? Booker asked.

Yeah, it must have slipped out of my pocket while I was asleep. Dewayne counted it and chuckled. There is one dollar and twenty-nine cents between us and starvation, he said. I wonder if the all night Seven Eleven still has fried pies on sale.

If they do, I doubt they have any left. Booker said.

Dewayne stood up and let the blanket drop to the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to stretch the wrinkles from the clothes he had slept in. Do I look like an executive?

Booker laughed. In this part of town you do. Dewayne’s full-length wool coat lay in a pile at his feet. He picked it up and put it on. It’s time for a grocery run, he said. Go back to sleep. Booker. I’ll go get us some pies to eat. When I get back I’ll wake you and Lucas up.

Be careful, man, Booker said. If you see any wood we can burn. get it.

Yeah.

Dewayne pushed his coat collar up around his neck and walked onto Exchange Street. The moon glowed brightly in the sky, and the cold breeze burned his face as he walked. The moon is high, he thought. It must be about midnight. He stopped and looked toward the top floor of the abandoned trade building. A dim light had caught his eye. It’s not there now, he thought. I’m sure I saw a light.

He backed up a few feet and retraced his steps. There it is again. A beam of light is coming from the top floor of that building. It must be tramps up there, but why would they go all the way to the fourth floor to sleep?

Dewayne studied the situation for a moment. If I know some of them, he thought, maybe they’ll give me some firewood. He put off going to the store, walked to the building and began looking for a way to enter.

A metal fire escape went to the roof. It was rusty and didn’t look safe to climb. He passed it and was about to turn the corner at the rear of the building when he heard men talking. Their voices are coming from inside the building, Dewayne thought. He found a window and looked in. A black man with a flashlight was opening the rear doors of a van. There were several other cars parked close by, but no one else was in sight. This must have been the warehouse area of this building and the cars were driven through the rear doors, Dewayne thought.

A man standing in the darkness took a draw from a cigarette and the orange glow dimly lit his face. Sparks drifted to the floor when he flipped the cigarette and it bounced from a wall. He spoke with a deep commanding voice. Why can’t you get her out of the van? he demanded. The ceremony starts in twenty minutes, and you can’t get the bitch out of the damn van. He hurriedly walked to the man with the flashlight. Jessie, what is your problem? Hurry and put the robe on her. You’ll catch hell if the region chief has to wait. I’m working on it, Nathan, but you drugged her too much, so she can’t move very fast.

Nathan began pacing. Carry her if you have to. As soon as this ceremony is over, we’ve got to take her to Galveston and have her onboard a ship by seven in the morning. It’s a six hour drive from here. Hurry, man! Jessie entered the van complaining, Why does the chief have these ceremonies in old run-down buildings anyway? Nathan spoke. For the effect it has on people, he said.

A young black woman stepped from the van and Jessie wrapped her with a hooded white robe. The group disappeared into the darkness. Dewayne walked to the fire escape and looked up. They’re using the inside stairs and going to the fourth floor, he thought. His curiosity outweighed his fear and he started up the creaking steps. He hid in a dark room for several minutes before the group arrived. They made their way down the hallway with a flashlight and entered the last door on the left. The sound of the door shutting echoed through the building and only the faint murmuring of voices remained.

Dewayne crept down the hallway. Years of accumulated grit crunched under his shoes. He made his way toward a light that was shining though a crack in the sheetrock wall. When he reached the source of light, he took a moment to glance out a nearby window. This must be the light I noticed earlier, he thought.

Dewayne knelt and looked through the crack. He counted thirteen men sitting on the floor