week 41 - The Full Moon

The word lunatic comes from Latin and when broken down into its root parts means “A person who suffers from the moon.” It was believed for centuries that the moon has an affect on mental health and that the various phases would cause different ailments to those susceptible to such things. Modern science says that the moon has no direct impact on humans, particularly our mental faculties. Anecdotally, however, there is proof all around us. 

Will Turner, longtime English Teacher at Peril County High School, had always said that his students get “a little crazy” around the full moon. Sheriff Higgins had always placed an extra unit or two out on patrol during full moons, especially when they hit on the weekend. And even Jaclyn Perez, in her short few months working at WEKT, had noticed that the types of stories that happened around a full moon are usually a little more rowdy than normal.

So, it was with some trepidation that she plopped down at her desk at 9 pm. The moon was luminous through the Venetian blinds in the window to her right, like a giant white lamp in the sky. There were two voicemails on her phone and a yellow note stuck to her computer screen. She reached for the note and scribbled in terrible handwriting she saw - Jim is out sick. Jess gonna solo on News with Annabeth on Weather. She already knows and is fine with it. -

Jaclyn pondered the note for a few minutes. Jess had never anchored a weeknight newscast before and add to that she and Annabeth had less than stellar chemistry to begin with. This had the makings of a long night and the crazies hadn’t even started calling in yet. 

It wasn’t thirty minutes later that Jaclyn had her first strange encounter of the evening. “WEKT Newsroom, this is Jackie, how can I help you?” she said in her friendliest voice. 

“You ever hear about the gremlins that live in the caves over in Bell County?” The voice was old and gruff. It was also a little slurred, Jaclyn assumed from alcohol. 

She couldn’t help but smile. “No, sir. Is this a recent thing or a recurring incident?” 

He coughed loudly into the receiver. “Oh! This shit’s been goin’ on fer years. Decades, even. They live back in some caves and come out on a full moon like tonight. Y’all need to send a camera up here to Excelsior, just ‘fore Middlesboro. I got a cabin up in the woods. Them little ‘effer’s been gettin’ into my garbage fer years.”

Jaclyn shook her head. “Can I have your name and a number and email for you, sir?” 

“Elmer Blevins. Best to use my email. Cell service is spotty. I’m in town right now gettin’ some bug spray to keep them little bastards away from me. It’s goblinbuster69@hottotrot.ky.com." There was no sense of embarrassment from him as he said his email. 

Fighting back a wave of laughter, Jaclyn struggled to respond. “Mr. Blevins, I’m afraid we are a little short-staffed tonight. I would suggest that if you get some pictures or video with a camera or something of the gremlins and send that in, we might be able to use that. And, of course, you would get credit for the footage. Do you need the stations email?”

“Naw, I got it. I been sendin’ in pics of my huntin’ dogs for the mornin’ news’ pet a the week since Ol’ Dan had his eye ripped out by a coon last April” 

She let out a wistful sigh. “I am terribly sorry for you and your dog. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?”

“Don’t reckon. You take care now. There’s freaks out on these full moon nights!” 

There was a click on the other end, and she hung up the phone. She took in a deep breath and shot it out, letting her cheeks fill with air. 

“That bitch is trying to cut me down to four minutes!” 

Jaclyn looked up to see Annabeth Cole, the Overnight Meteorologist. Even with rollers in her hair and no makeup, she was a striking woman. It was clear she was in a bit of a mood. Being put together and always camera ready was a point of pride for the meteorologist, So, clearly, something was amiss. 

“Who is doing what, Annabeth?” Jaclyn asked, trying to assess the situation. 

“Jess, in her infinite wisdom, says that the national package on low birth weight in panda’s this year is, and I quote, ‘Vital to our newscast’ and therefore needs to take up two minutes of my weather.” The more she talked, the more red appeared in her cheeks. 

Leaning back in her chair, Jaclyn flicked a strand of hair from in front of her face. “And what, exactly, are you wanting me to do about it? She’s producing the late show. I do the AM news. It’s her call.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened, and her shoulders raised up to almost touch her ears. “That little girl is barely old enough to drive a car. She graduated college at CHRISTMAS! She has NEVER produced a newscast by herself before. And I am the highest rated on air talent this station has. More people tune in for me than anyone else. She can’t cut my time!”

“Technically, she can. But, I’ll talk to her, ok?” 

She turned on her heels and walked back toward the set. Jaclyn heard her say “I’m too good for this market,” as she turned the corner. 

Back in the edit bay, Jaclyn found Jess working on a story covering a group of high school students who had organized a canned food drive for needy families in their community. “Got a minute, Jess?” she asked, sticking her head into the small, black room. 

“Sure. What’s up?” Jess was a mousy little lady, with sharp features and brown hair. She had come a long way in the several months she’d been on the job at WEMT, Jaclyn thought, from the nervous, clumsy wallflower that came in at the start of the year. 

“Annabeth came and talked to me,” she said, plainly. 

Jess, never turning from the edit bay, just nodded her head. “Ok. What about?” 

“Said you cut her by two minutes.”

“National put out a story this afternoon showing that low birth weight in pandas is an indicator of Global Warming and mercury seeping into the food chain. I think it’s vitally important to share that information.” Jaclyn had learned of Jess’s passion for the environment when the young reporter covered an abandoned mine site being reclaimed through a grant earlier in the spring. 

The overnight producer adjusted the glasses on her face. “Jess, I understand that. But you can’t kill two minutes of weather. Pull your B block lead and run it there.”

Jess spun around, aghast. “We can’t kill the dolphin reclamation park story!” 

“Dolphin reclamation?” Jaclyn asked, confused.

With another spin of her chair, Jess returned to the edit bay and pressed a couple buttons. The two proceeded to watch a three minute piece on volunteers in Florida are working to reclaim an area as a dolphin sanctuary. It was, if Jaclyn was being fair, a good news story. 

“Ok,” Jaclyn said with a ponderous look on her face, “What can you kill in the A block? Any killable promo’s in the breaks?” 

Jess shook her head, frustrated. “Listen, this is my show and I’ll run it like I want to. I’ll give the princess a minute back to shut her up, but I don’t need her or you to tell me how to put together a newscast!” She spun back around to her edit bay.

Jaclyn thought about forcing the issue, but chalked it up to another instance of the full moon playing tricks. She walked back to the newsroom where the phone was ringing. “WEKT Newsroom, This is Jackie. How can I help you?” she said in her most professional tone. 

“Yes, this is Mary Beth Francis. I just seen somethin’ on the internets that has me just all sick and worried to death.” The voice on the other end was nasal and whiney. 

She pulled out a notepad and grabbed a pen labeled with the station’s ID on it. “What did you see, ma’am?” 

Mary Beth Francis cleared her throat. “I know this might sound crazy. And I know there’s no such thing as real vampires. But it said that there was a crazy bunch a kids runnin’ around the cities, dressin’ up in wild costumes and bitin’ one ‘nother on the neck and jumpin’ out and scarin’ folks. Now, if that came to Peril County, I’d just die!” She sounded completely serious. 

“Ma’am, where did you see this?” 

“We have a little texting group down at the church and the lady that plays piano when Mrs. Watterson can’t make it sent it out to us. It’s a video talkin’ about all the teen vampire attacks down in Louisiana. They was galavantin’ around the streets and playin’ the devil's music and all sorts a stuff.”

Jaclyn turned to her computer and a quick search showed her what was happening. “Ma’am. I think you’ve been seeing maybe some advertisements or footage from a costume party they have every year in New Orleans. Yes, it’s just a Halloween-type of thing from what I can tell.”

There was a bit of a pause. “But, what if the vampires come to Black Grass?” she said, clearly worried. 

“I can’t answer that ma’am. But my grandmother used to tell me I should treat every guest as if Jesus was paying us a visit. Maybe start there?” The memory of her Nana flashed through her mind, the little old lady who had moved from Virginia to Boston when she was just a girl to escape the segregated south. Jaclyn didn’t think there was a finer person on this planet than her Nana.

Again, Mary Beth Francis sat in silence for a moment. “So, do you all wanna do a story on this or what do we do now?” 

Jaclyn closed her eyes tightly in frustration. “Ma’am, I don’t think this story has a local spin on it just yet. If there happens to be something that directly affects Peril County or the surrounding region, we would be more than happy to cover it. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

Mary Beth Francis was not exactly pleased with this outcome of events, Jaclyn could tell. “No, I don’t suppose there is,” and the phone clicked. 

It was about half an hour before the news hit the air, and the entire building was buzzing with activity. Production staff were working on graphics and camera shots. Reporters were finishing stories and putting on makeup. Annabeth had taken the curlers out of her hair. “We got a live one!” someone yelled from the other end of the building. 

Neil Douglas, a reporter who’d been with the station for several years, with short black hair, stubby legs and a round, handsome face, came running through the halls carrying a camera. He darted past Jaclyn, then, noticing her, ran back to her desk. “Can we get a sat truck by 11?” 

She looked at him, trying to judge the seriousness of the situation. “What for, exactly?”

“Gas main blew out on Finley Branch. Two homes lost and a mechanic’s shop. Just got a call from Deputy Watts. No word on fatalities, but it looks bad.” He was out of breath as he stuffed gear into a bag.

Jaclyn knew a story like this would necessitate a live satellite, but getting it by 11 would be difficult. “You head to the scene and I’ll see what I can do.” Neil nodded and headed for the door while Jaclyn dialed Dustin, the stations Satellite Truck driver. He was a notoriously heavy sleeper and had totally missed the flash flood over in Floyd County just a few weeks ago. After about ten rings, he finally answered, and she gave him the address of the accident. He sounded groggy, but awake enough to get out of bed and into the truck. 

“Jess, we got a new lead story!” she called down the hall as a new script came up on her screen. She typed up what scant details she could ascertain from Neil and a short update over the wire from the Sheriff’s office. 

In a few short minutes, the newscast hit the air with Jess reading Jaclyn’s breaking news about the fire. “WEKT’s Neil Douglas is en route and we hope to have more before the end of tonight’s broadcast,” Jess said from the news desk.

After that, the rest of the show went fairly smoothly. They were able to get a satellite uplink with Neil just as the show was ending for a quick update. No fatalities, but thousands, if not hundreds of thousands in property damage. Once the post-news meeting had finished, Jaclyn sat back in her desk chair and closed her eyes in a moment of relaxation. 

The sharp rattle of her phone shook her back to reality. “WEMT Newsroom, this is Jackie, how can I help you?” 

“Y’all! I think they a werewolf under my porch. It’s growlin’ like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Jesus, I hate a full moon!” she thought as she pulled out a notebook.