Footprints of Thunder (37 page)

“But, Mrs. Weatherby, there’s a dinosaur out there.”

“Many dinosaurs, Luis. It’s been a constant parade. Some of them I haven’t learned the names for yet, but I know I saw a polacanthus and a pachycephalosaurus and those awful deinonychus. They’re terrible killers! And of course there’s my iguanodon friend. A vegetarian, you know. He has a sweet tooth.”

She scooped the eggs onto Luis’s plate, then took apple juice from the refrigerator and filled a glass for Luis. “I don’t know why I keep the apple juice in the refrigerator. It isn’t working, of course. I guess it’s just habit.”

Luis sighed. “That big dinosaur, he doesn’t have to eat you, you know. Stepping on you would turn you into a pancake.”

“He’s really quite careful.” Then Mrs. Weatherby looked thoughtful. “Would you like some pancakes, Luis? I could whip them up real easy. I’ve got lots of syrup. I’ve got one of those mixes that doesn’t use any eggs. Of course—”

“No, please no. This is fine. I’m already full. I said that dinosaur will turn you into a pancake, I didn’t mean I wanted any. He’s not smart enough to be careful. He’s going to hurt you. He won’t mean it but it will happen.”

“He is so smart,” Mrs. Weatherby replied defensively. “You should see how quickly he learned that sugar trick. Now I’m teaching him to stay away from my garden. Why I think I could—”

Mrs. Weatherby was interrupted by the now familiar “aaaah” sound drifting in from the living room window. She immediately took two paper bags from the kitchen counter and walked through the door, calling back over her shoulder as she left, “Finish your eggs, Luis. I’ve got to see to the iguanodon’s sweet tooth or he’ll never leave us alone.”

When she walked out the apartment door, he realized she was going down to feed her dinosaur by hand. She was impossible. Luis had nearly lost his life trying to rescue her from something she didn’t want to be rescued from. He couldn’t drag her all the way back to Steve and Tanya’s apartment. He was going to have to leave her here, and if that dinosaur got her it wouldn’t be his fault. He had tried.

When he looked out the living room window, the dinosaur was there with Mrs. Weatherby. He was down on all fours getting seconds, his massive mouth wide open as little Mrs. Weatherby poured sugar inside. It was a strange and wonderful relationship, but Luis knew it couldn’t last. Mrs. Weatherby would have to leave eventually. The electricity wasn’t coming back easily this time, and even if it did it wouldn’t matter. The police would evacuate these buildings when the looting ended, and they would seal off the dinosaur meadow.

Luis finally conceded defeat. He had to leave. He had a family worrying about him and he should have been home long ago.

Mrs. Weatherby had finished feeding her dinosaur, who was walking off into the meadow chewing a mouthful of grass.

Luis called out the window to her. “Mrs. Weatherby, I’ve got to go to my family. Won’t you come with me?”

She smiled up at him. “Go take care of your babies, Luis. Stop worrying about an old woman. Please don’t worry about me. I haven’t been this happy in years.”

Luis nodded and waved good-bye. She might die, he thought, but she would die happy. Could anyone hope for more than a long life and to die happy? Then he stepped out the door.

The streets were worse than Luis remembered. He figured that earlier the pain in his head helped blank out his memory. The area near the dinosaur field was nearly a total loss. They hadn’t burned the buildings yet, but every window was broken, and anything of value had been hauled away. The leftovers from the looting filled the streets, which were haunted by the scavengers, who were mostly male. The families were long gone and the elderly were holed up like Mrs. Weatherby.

Luis stood in the doorway of his building studying the passersby—young and male, and a mixture of races. The whites had been moving out of Luis’s neighborhood for the last few years, but it wasn’t clear yet whether the neighborhood would go Latino or black. That was partly why the gang problems were worse here. The white gang called Zombies was losing control over their turf and becoming increasingly violent. The Zombies were on their way out, but they were taking some of the Diablos and Kimbos with them. Still, Luis couldn’t spot any gang colors among the crowd. But something else about the crowd bothered him. Why was the crowd still here? Why weren’t they where the pickings were better? What kept them here? The dinosaurs surely kept them penned in on one side, but what about the other sides? Luis wondered if the police weren’t slowly taking back the streets.

Luis started out cautiously. When he first heard the feint popping sound in the distance he instantly knew it was gunfire. The sounds came closer, more furious. He looked left and right, but the firing was coming down from the street, so he melted into a doorway and waited, peeking out occasionally. Men were running down the street toward him, and Luis recognized the red jackets of the Zombies. They slowed and then spread out, hiding behind cars and in doorways. A minute later they began firing down the street at something Luis couldn’t see. Then they began running toward him again. It was time for Luis to hide.

Luis looked around and found he was in front of Mr. Choi’s grocery store; he shopped there occasionally and he knew the old man who owned it. Mr. Choi and his wife lived above the market. When Luis first moved to the neighborhood Mr. Choi had two sons who worked in the store with him. They were gone to college now and Mr. Choi used neighborhood kids in the store. He was a gruff old man, but his wife was as sweet as Mrs. Weatherby.

The store’s windows were gone like every other window nearby. Because the glass doors were smashed, Luis stepped through the frame. The store shelves were empty and many overturned. Luis walked toward the back, looking for a good place to hide. Only a few cans of beets were scattered on the floor—and Luis kicked at them, realizing there were some things not even looters would steal.

Gunfire sounded outside, closer now, and Luis hurried toward the back of the store. As he passed the last of the overturned shelves he saw a foot sticking out from under the case. He kicked it but got no reaction. It was a brown work shoe like so many others, except that it was small. Luis lifted the fallen shelf until be could see the face of the man underneath. It was Mr. Choi. He was on his back, his eyes wide open in a dead man’s stare. A pool of blood made a red halo around his head. Luis set the shelf back down gently. Mr. Choi had died trying to defend his store. Luis knew it was all Mr. Choi had— his livelihood, providing for his family and his children’s college education, Luis guessed if he were Mr. Choi he would have died trying to save it too. Then Luis remembered Mrs. Choi.

Luis forgot about the gunfire and found a stairway in the storeroom to the apartment above, which looked untouched. The television and VCR were still there, as were the Oriental trinkets and paintings that decorated the apartment. Luis searched quickly, afraid of what he would find in each room, but it was empty. Filled with relief, he sighed. Mrs. Choi could still be downstairs somewhere under one of the overturned shelves, but he didn’t have the heart to look for her.

More gunfire sounded, this time much closer. Luis dropped to the floor and kept his head down until he was sure he wasn’t the target. He crawled to the windowsill in the living room and stood slowly with his back firm against the wall and peeked out into the street. At first he saw nothing. Then he heard the
pop pop pop
of a handgun. Someone ran by below, him on the sidewalk wearing a red jacket. More firing sounded. This time Luis was sure it was rifle fire. Two more Zombies ran by and then men not wearing colors—the street was silent for a minute and then another figure, wearing a uniform arid carrying a rifle, ran up the sidewalk and crouched behind a car. He stood, leaning the rifle on the roof of the car, and fired up the street. From the distance Luis heard the pop of small arms fire. The soldier fired twice more and then another soldier ran past the first and up the street.

Luis pulled back and leaned against the wall. Elated and scared, he realized it had to be the National Guard taking back the streets. Soon Luis could stop worrying about Mrs. Weatherby—the Guard would make her move, or at least protect her. It also meant Luis would make it home to Melinda and the kids.

Mariel missed Luis. He had been gone only a short time and already she missed having someone to care for and someone to talk with. Luis would never take the place of Gertie or any of her friends from her early and middle years, but he was nice and so polite, not like most young men today. He was one of the few people in the building ever to visit her, and the only one to check in on her to see if she needed anything. She had been touched by his concern for her over the years, and now coming back for her like that made him someone special. That was something a son would do for a mother. Yes, Mariel would miss Luis.

The gunfire started a few minutes after Luis left. Mariel had heard it before, of course, but not this close and not this loud. She wasn’t really frightened by it, really just annoyed. All that racket would scare away the dinosaurs. Worse, it might keep the iguanodon from coming for his treat.

Finally, the sounds were so faint Mariel became hopeful that the meadow dinosaurs would return. But although she watched diligently, she could only spot fleeting movements in the grass; nothing she could identify. Then it happened again. Mariel looked down at her crocheting for a minute to check a stitch and then out the window to see the city was back. More distant this time, and shimmery and pale like some reflection in a pond. Leaning out her window, Mariel looked down. She could see the neat line where the meadow met the asphalt, but when she looked into the distance she saw the shimmering city. Mariel took off her glasses and cleaned them on her apron. When she put them back on the city was gone.

“Well I’ll be. I must get my prescription checked.” Mariel looked again to make sure and then decided it was time for a cup of the orange spice tea she’d found in the McGregors’ apartment when she was looking for sugar.

Luis listened as the gunfire slowly moved up the street and faded into the distance. He stood and peered out at the empty streets. Then gunfire sounded again up the street somewhere near his building. Luis thought again of Mrs. Weatherby, and how he’d eaten her eggs, and felt guilty.

He ducked down and crawled across the floor to the Choi’s kitchen. There was an old-fashioned white refrigerator against the wall, with rounded edges and a huge handle. He opened the refrigerator and felt a soft rush of cool air—not cold air, but cooler than the room temperature. The light was out of. course, but on a middle rack Luis found two cartons of eggs. One carton was full and one half full. Luis took the eggs and dug deeper into the shelves. He found a quart of orange juice, which he placed with the eggs. If he’d taken anything from downstairs he would have felt like a looter, but up here it was borrowing. He and the Chois hadn’t exactly been friends, but they were at least acquaintances.

In the cabinets he found two six-packs of juice boxes and canned fruit, including peaches and pineapple tidbits. In the last one he found an unopened ten-pound bag of sugar. He was loading a box when the sound of the shooting changed.

Now the burping of automatic weapons met his ears. Luis crawled to the window and inched up, peering out. The street was empty, but the sounds of battle were coming closer again. He watched the soldiers appear. They were retreating, running from cover to cover, spraying the streets with automatic fire from their M-16s. Then they were gone and the street was empty again. Luis waited, knowing what was to come. Soon a red-coated Zombie came into view, carrying a weapon whose rapid fire told Luis it was a machine gun. Another Zombie appeared, firing with a machine pistol. More automatic fire sounded. Still another Zombie shot up the far side of the street, and Luis could hear weapon fire surrounding the Chois’ store.

Luis shrank back, despairing. He knew the soldiers would be back eventually, armed to handle the Zombies, but it could take days.

As the gunfire faded into the distance again, Luis realized most of the Zombies and their allies were busy driving the Guard off of their turf. Figuring the odds, he decided now might be a good time to risk it. The box of groceries he had gathered for Mrs. Weatherby would make him look like a looter scurrying home with a few extra spoils. If anyone stopped him he could offer the food to buy passage.

The streets looked empty, but Luis could feel eyes on him. He didn’t mind as long as the eyes stayed in the buildings. Heading away from the gunfight, he kept a close watch on the barrier of cars between his building and that across the street. He couldn’t see anyone near the cars now. But coming down the street was a small group with two men wearing red. Luis turned to go the other way but spotted men in doorways a half a block off. They looked at him, and Luis felt panic. He had only one choice—to turn and walk between the cars and down the street to dinosaur land.

When the street ended abruptly and the meadow began, Luis hesitated. It was too unnatural, too surreal. The sound of voices behind him forced him forward. He carried his box around the corner of the building. Afraid to step on the meadow grass, he set the box down and peeked back around the corner. Three men were standing by the cars talking. When one of them pointed between the buildings where Luis had gone, Luis folded back around the corner, pressing his back against the wall.

He stood staring at the meadow and thought of the dinosaurs Mrs. Weatherby had described, How many were there, he wondered? What had she called the ones? Terrible killers.

He stood undecided. He had killers on all sides of him and wasn’t sure which were the most dangerous.

Now he peeked back around the corner. Six men stood by the cars now, seemingly content to wait Luis out. They’re afraid of the meadow, Luis realized. Afraid of the dinosaurs, just like me.

Looking back across the meadow, he saw something moving in the distance—something big, walking on all fours with a huge frilly spiked collar, moving parallel to the buildings. Soon it disappeared into the grass.