Quake (31 page)

    'What'll we do?' Em asked.

    'We can't leave her here,' Clint said. 'I guess that I'll have to carry her.'

    'Too bad we can't just call 911.'

    'You're telling me.'

    'How is she?' Caspar called from below.

    'Out cold,' Clint answered, not looking back. 'We're going on to the top.'

    'We're coming, too,' Caspar called. 'Do you need a hand with her?'

    'No thanks.'

    'I'm sorry she fell.'

    Yeah, right, Clint thought. But he didn't answer.

    'You go on,' Loreen called. 'Take care.'

    Em turned her head toward him.

    'What was that up there?'

    'I don't know.'

    'Did you see it?'

    'I just caught a glimpse. I couldn't tell what it was. I thought it might be a dog - maybe a mastiff, but…'

    'It didn't have a snout like a dog or anything,' Em said. 'Maybe some kind of a monkey or…I don't know…I think it might've been a guy, but it looked so bloody and weird.'

    'Guess we'll find out,' Clint said.

    'Whatever it was, I sure hope it's gone by the time we get up there.'

    'I just hope we can get up there.'

    'I'll help.'

    'Why don't you start by fixing her blouse. I'll hold her.' With Clint bracing Mary to keep her from rolling, Em leaned forward. She plucked up the blouse where it hung off Mary's far shoulder and lifted it and pulled it toward her until she could reach it with her other hand. Then she held the entire side of the blouse at an angle, taut like the slanting wall of a lean-to.

    'Last look at her chooch?' Em asked.

    'Her what?'

    'Her chooch. You know, her boob.'

    'Just go on,' Clint said. 'Twerp.'

    'I'm a scamp, not a twerp.' She lowered the side of blouse and let go.

    It settled smoothly on the mound of her breast. The tip of her nipple showed through. Moments later, drops of blood began to appear here and there on the soiled fabric. Em reached down in front of herself for the right side of the blouse. She had to tug it out from under her knees sweeping it forward over Mary.

    'Want me to fasten the buttons?' Em asked.

    'Yes.’

    'You sure?'

    'Quit clowning, okay? I'm not interested in her chooch or anything else.'

    'You're not?' Em asked as she started to work the buttons. 'Really?'

    Not much, anyhow. 'I'm married,' he said.

    'So?'

    'Just wait'll you see my wife. It'll be pretty obvious why I can't get all that worked up about Mary. They aren't even in the same league.'

    'You talking nautical?'

    'Baseball.'

    Em smiled. 'I knew that.' She finished with the buttons. 'All set.'

    The blouse clung to the wetness of the sweat and blood on Mary's skin.

    'Okay,' Clint said. 'Now, let's see if I can pick her up.'

    'Want me to take her legs, or something?'

    'I guess what you'd better do is stand clear. Just be ready to grab her, maybe, in case I drop her.'

    Em crawled aside, then moved slightly downslope and got to her feet.

    'What're they doing?' Clint asked.

    'Just watching,' she said. Then she called, 'Stay down there till we're out of the way, all right?'

    'Fine,' Caspar called. 'Don't worry about us.'

    Clint stared at Mary.

    He didn't like the idea of carrying her to the top of the hill cradled in his arms - all her weight would be in front of him - and it'd be hard to climb fast without nailing her in the back with his knees.

    Just sling her over your shoulder, he told himself.

    Just? 'Here goes,' he said. He moved sideways a bit, shoved his knee against her hip to keep her from slipping, then reached up with both hands and grabbed her shoulders. He jerked her to a sitting position. As she started slumping forward, he caught her by the sides, just under her armpits. Lifted her. Pulled her. Turned her. Muscled her up and onto his left shoulder and clamped his left arm across her rump and dug his shoes into the dirt and hurled himself at the slope.

    'Yes!' Em yelled.

    Go go go go go, his mind shouted as he dashed for the top. Go go go. Don't stop for anything. Go go go. Get it done, get it done, get it done! Go go go! Get to the top and you can put her down. We'll roll her down the other side. The other side of the landslide. I'm a poet. My feet show it. Longfellows? Go go go! I think I can, I think I can. Heart attack, heart attack! Ha! Shit! Go go go! Don't stop, don't stop! Almost there! Go go go go go!

    And grunting, dragging air into his hurting lungs as his heart slammed, he gained the crest of the hill. The thing was sprawled in front of him. Before he could halt himself, his foot hooked under the shoulder. He plunged forward. They almost landed on the body. They landed just beyond it, instead. Mary's rump hit the ground first, taking the brunt of the impact. Then she flopped forward off Clint's shoulder. He lay on top of her, too spent to move.

    Em had arrived at the top and finished vomiting by the Clint was able to push himself up. He crawled back from Mary's unconscious body. On his knees, he looked at the thing that had tripped him.

    'It's a man, isn't it?' Em asked. She sounded very calm. She was standing up straight, but facing away from Clint and the body.

    'I'm not sure.' The hips and rump didn't seem to flare out. He supposed this was probably a man, not a woman. But there was no way to be sure without turning it over. 'I guess so.'

    'How did he get that way?' Em asked.

    'I don't know.'

    'Earthquakes… they don't scalp people.’

    'No,' Clint said. 'They don't.’

    'Or skin them alive.'

    'No. Earthquakes don't skin people, either.'

    'Did humans do that to him?’

    'Somebody did.'

    'He came up over here. I can see where he… he must've crawled up all the way from the road. How could you do that, if you'd been wrecked like that?'

    'I don't know,' Clint said. 'Willpower, I guess.'

    Em's head swiveled slowly from side to side. She seemed to be scanning the area below the landslide - the remains of Laurel Canyon winding down toward Sunset Boulevard. 'Some awfully bad stuff must be going on down there,' she said.

    Clint struggled to his feet.

    Em looked over her shoulder as he approached her. He stopped beside her. He reached across her back and gently squeezed her shoulder. 'I don't have any choice about going on, Emerald. I've got to get home to my wife and daughter.'

    'I know.'

    'I'm sure not eager to end up like that guy, if you know I what mean.'

    'We'll take care of each other, okay?’

    'Okay.'

    Letting go of her shoulder, Clint stroked the back of her head. Her short hair was dripping wet. 'Yuck,' he said, and wiped his hand on her T-shirt. Em turned, put her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. They were still embracing when Mary called out in a shaky voice, 'Clint?'

    He turned slowly, Em in his arms, and saw Mary raise her head off the ground. 'Just lie there and relax,' he called to her. 'You took a bad fall.'

    Lowering her head, she shut her eyes and started to cry.

    Em squeezed herself harder against Clint. 'Stay with me,' she murmured.

    'I will.'

    'I'm not too good at being scared.'

    'You're doing fine.'

    'Stuff doesn't usually get me, you know?'

    'This sort of stuff would get anyone.'

    After a while, she said, 'Maybe we'd better go and see Mary.'

    'There's no hurry,' Clint said.

    'Maybe we can stop her so she doesn't see the guy.'

    'I guess that'd be a good idea.'

    'I'm ever the thoughtful type,' Em said.

    That brought a smile to Clint. He eased away from her, gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, then let go. As they walked side by side toward the place on the ground where Mary lay quietly sobbing, Caspar and Loreen trudged into sight.

***

    Earl walked up the alley with his hands folded above his head while Barbara and Pete followed, side by side, a few paces behind him. They held their weapons pointed in his general direction, but kept their fingers off the triggers. Earl had been cooperating nicely and without complaint since leaving the apartment complex. But now he stopped and turned around. 'Come on, Banner, my arms are killing me.'

    'Tough.'

    'Just let me put 'em down, okay? I'm not gonna try nothing. What do you think I wanta do, run back and strangle the old bat? I probably couldn't even find that place again.'

    Barbara looked at Pete. He shrugged. 'Okay, Earl,' she said. 'You can put your arms down. But stick your hands in your pockets.'

    'In my pockets?'

    'You heard me.'

    'It's hotter 'n' a mother-dog, 'n' you're telling me gotta stick my hands in my pockets? No way!'

    'Then keep them on top of your head.'

    'Shit!' He spun around and resumed walking. A moment later, he called, 'Okay if just stick 'em up?' Not waiting for an answer, he raised both his arms straight overhead. 'Don't know what you're so afraid of, anyhow.'

    'You with a gun,' Barbara said.

    'Yeah, right. I saved your ass, Banner. Don't you forget that.'

    'We don't think you're very particular about who you shoot,' Pete explained. 'Not to mention, you threatened Barbara.'

    'Did not.'

    '"You're really asking for it"? Sounds like a threat, to me.'

    'I was pissed. Didn't mean nothing by it. What're you gonna do, keep me covered all the way home?'

    'If possible,' Barbara said.

    'Yeah? Well, I'm putting my arms down, so go ahead and shoot me.' With that, he lowered them. Barbara felt an urge to fire past him - give him a good scare. But she'd already fired a warning shot, back at the pool. That one had probably been necessary, but a shot now would be a waste of ammo. Stupid, she knew, to fire if you didn't absolutely have to. The round you save may save your life.

    So far, they had run into no real trouble except for Earl (and Heather, don't forget poor Heather), but they still had a few miles to go. If those blood-thirsty marauders were more than just a figment of Heather's imagination…Sure hope that's all they were. Just ahead, most of the alley was blocked by rubble from the collapsed rear of a two-story apartment building. Earl angled to the right and started to go around it. He kept his arms partway up. He kept his head down and seemed to be watching his step until he was past the side of the pile. Then he looked to his left. And jerked to a quick, rigid stop.

    'What?' Pete called.

    For a moment, Earl didn't move. Then he grinned back at them. 'Nothing. No problem. Thought I saw a snake. Just a piece of rope. No sweat.'

    He walked on, but watched over his shoulder. There wasn't room to walk side by side past the edge of the debris heap, so Barbara went first. She didn't like the way Earl kept watching her. Something's going on. Maybe he had spotted a real snake. The things were rare in Los Angeles, but the quake might've let a few pet pythons get loose. And she knew there were rattlers in the hills around the city. Who knows? But it wasn't a snake that had startled Earl. Nor was it a piece of rope.

    Stepping carefully past the fan of broken stucco and glass, Barbara turned her head to the left and saw the bodies. She flinched and caught her breath.

    'Surprise, surprise,' Earl called out.

    She glanced at him. 'Bastard.'

    Pete came up behind her. 'Oh, man,' he muttered.

    Earl had walked on past the bodies in order to pull the gag on Barbara and Pete. Now that his trick had succeeded, he came wandering back.

    'What're you doing?' Pete asked him.

    'Just want a closer look. Come on over. They don't bite.'

    Barbara suddenly found herself approaching Earl and the bodies. She thought, This is nuts. I don't want a closer look. Sure you do. No big deal, anyway, she told herself. It's not like these are the first of the day, or something. Oughta be pretty used to this stuff, by now. The three bodies were stretched out on their backs, side by side: two young men, a slender blonde woman between them. Barbara, standing near the feet of the woman, flanked by Earl and Pete, didn't like the similarities. They could almost be our shadows. They aren't, she told herself. They're dead people, and it's just a coincidence they're lined up this way and they sort of look like us. They do not look like us. The guy stretched out at Earl's feet was fat, for one thing. Pete's dead counterpart was very tall, probably six-three, and had a crew cut. The blonde between them was probably ten years older than Barbara, had much bigger breasts that stood up solid with implants, slick bare skin where her pubic hair should've been, and a tan that seemed to have no boundaries. Also, one side of her head was caved in. The fat guy's guts showed through a deep slash across his belly. The tall guy was missing most of his right leg.

    'They weren't murdered, were they?' Pete asked, his voice quiet and shaky.

    'Nah,' Earl said. 'The quake got 'em. I've seen plenty the same way. Some scavengers probably dragged 'em outa the shit and left 'em here.'

    'Stripped them like this?' Pete asked.

    'Less maybe the babe was catching some rays on her rooftop when we started to rock 'n' roll. She got one a them allover tans. See that?'

    Pete nodded.

    'You got one a them all-over tans, Banner?'

    'Knock it off,' she said.

    'Betcha this babe's a stripper, or something. Maybe porno flicks. Look how she's got her pussy shaved. You got your pussy shaved, Banner?'

    'Shut up.' This time, the warning came from Pete. Earl chuckled softly. He bent over and planted his on his knees and squinted. 'What do you think, they raped her?'

    'Earl!' Pete snapped.

    'Ah, cool your jets. Just kidding around.'

    'Real funny,' Barbara muttered.

    'Yeah, well, it happens. Don't think it don't. Not that I'd be interested. Not me. I like my babes alive and moaning.' He stepped between the bodies of the fat guy and the woman. Turning toward the woman, he squatted down.

    'What do you think you're doing?' Barbara said.

    Casting an innocent smile at her, Earl squeezed one of the breasts. 'Honk honk.'

    'What's the matter with you?' she muttered.

    'Silicone job. Yuck. I like the natural feel. Don't ever get no silicone job, Banner. Love ya just the way you are.'

    Feeling a little sick, she nudged Pete with her elbow. 'Let's get out of here.'

    'Hang on, hang on,' Earl said. He reached down to the woman's face.'Earl!'

    'Just wanta check out a little something here. Look how she's bloody around her mouth.' Holding the woman's mouth open by the jaw, he hunched down lower and peered in. He turned her head a bit from side to side. 'Yeah. Shit. Just what I thought.'

    'What?' Pete asked.

    'She's missing a couple of her pearly whites.'

    'What are you talking about?' Barbara asked. 'They been pulled. Outa the back.'

    'Maybe they got knocked out by the quake,' Pete suggested. 'Yeah, right.' He turned around and inspected the fat guy's mouth. 'This one's okay - least if you overlook his obvious problems.'

    Pete stepped forward, crouched, and looked into the mouth of the tall guy. 'This one's got all his teeth.'

    'It was just the babe, then,' Earl said. 'What happened, some fucking street-vulture yanked her gold crowns.' Shaking his head, he stood up. 'Not enough, they strip every damn body down to the skin and rip off everything - now they're going for the teeth. Ain't seen that before. Beware of trolls bearing pliers, know what mean? You got any gold in that mouth-hole of yours, Banner?''No.'

    'Me, neither,' Pete said.

    'Guess I'm the only lucky one.' Earl opened his mouth wide and pointed in. Barbara didn't bother to look. 'Three of 'em. Cost my step-dad a fortune. Bet he never figured he was marrying into no dental disaster.' Earl laughed sharply, then scowled. His eyes shifted from Pete to Barbara. 'Something happens - don't let nobody take my teeth, okay? Shit. I go down, I wanta go down in one piece.'

    'Don't worry about it,' Pete said. 'Nobody's going down.’

    'Right. That's probably what they thought.'

    'Let's get going,' Barbara said.

    Earl took the lead again, but he neither raised his arms nor kept his hands in his pockets. Might as well let him do what he wants, Barbara thought. He could've jumped us or made a getaway while we were with the bodies. Would've been a cinch to take us by surprise, grab one of the guns…

    'I wonder if we should get out of the alleys,' Pete said. Barbara saw that they were coming up on a street. No cars were going by. The alley on the other side of the street looked much the same as this one and the others - a narrow lane of old, crumbling pavement bordered by dumpsters, parking stalls, fences, occasional hedges, and the rear ends of several apartment buildings. All the apartment buildings that Barbara could see along the alley were standing. She saw no major damage. She saw no bodies. She saw no scavengers. She saw nobody.

    'I don't know,' she told Pete. 'It doesn't look bad up ahead.' Earl turned around and walked backward. 'Hey, the alleys are better. Believe it. I've been in the streets. You don't wanta get mixed up in the looting and shit. Here, all you got're the vultures. And they ain't interested in us till we're toes up, know what mean? Hell, you don't even see 'em. You seen any? They're like invisible. You only know they're around 'cause you can see what they done to the stiffs. But we go out in the streets, and we're asking for trouble. Some of them looters spot you got guns, they're gonna want 'em. Fact is, you oughta put those babies outa sight till we get across the street. We been lucky so far nobody's spotted 'em and come for us.'

    Pete and Barbara looked at each other. Then Barbara opened her purse. The Colt was too large, but she managed to stuff it in. The purse suddenly felt very heavy against her hip. The strap, slanting down from her shoulder, pulled taut. No way, she thought. Grimacing, she removed the pistol from the purse and reached behind her back. She lifted the tail of her blouse and pushed the.45 down under the waistband of her shorts. The shorts became a bit more snug, but not uncomfortable. As she inserted the gun, the muzzle or front sight caught on the top of her panties, shoving them down a few inches. The steel felt thick and slightly cool against the crease of her buttocks. Not bad, she thought. Beats keeping it in my purse.

    'What am supposed to do with this?' Pete asked, gesturing with the rifle.

    'Do like Banner and stick it in your pants,' Earl suggested, grinning.

    'Sure,' Pete muttered.

    'Just carry it by your side so it isn't so obvious what you've got,' Barbara suggested. 'Nobody's bothered us yet. And you go trying to hide something that big in your clothes, you won't be able to get it out if we need it.'

    'Want me to carry it?' Earl asked.

    'Thanks, but no thanks.'

    'Your funeral,' Earl said, and walked on out of the alley. Barbara and Pete followed him, staying close together, the rifle between them, clamped under Pete's arm and pointed downward. Barbara looked from side to side as they crossed the street. In both directions, cars and pickups and vans were parked along the curbs. A few were double-parked and seemed to be abandoned.

    To her right, she could see a lot of stopped traffic in the distance - no doubt where the street approached one of the main east-west roads. Quite a few people seemed to be milling about. She supposed they were drivers and passengers who had decided not to leave their vehicles behind. She'd seen groups a lot. She'd come to think of them as 'the waiters.' Not doing anything, just waiting around for the traf clear so they could drive on home. Between the waiters and where she was crossing the road Barbara saw nobody except a pair of women standing together on the sidewalk in front of an apartment building, chatting and gesturing, probably sharing their quake adventures. To the left, far off, Barbara could see traffic stopped at another major east-west artery. She could barely make out the tiny shapes of the waiters. Between those distant waiters and where she walked up the street, she saw nobody. Nobody at all. A street of empty vehicles. Sunlit air, yellow, adrift haze and smoke. A few trees that didn't give much shade. Patches of green here and there, but mostly the gray of concrete and the pastels of painted stucco walls of homes and apart buildings. Cracks in walls and pavement. Crumbled stucco. Shattered windows. Fallen chimneys. But nobody. No people at all. Just as well, Barbara thought. The main quake's all and you got through it without getting your head bashed in, so now all you've got to do isworry about getting killed by the survivors.

    She was glad that she and Pete had guns. She thought about the revolver at home, and hoped that Mom had thought to grab it.

    Maybe Dad's home by now, she thought. If only they're home and all right and the house is still in one piece…, then we'll all be together and fine. If I can get there. It felt good to get out of the street and into the alley, where they were not so exposed. Pete quit trying to conceal the rifle. He carried it ready. Barbara decided to keep the pistol down her waistband. She liked having her hands empty. She figured that she could probably pull it out fast enough if trouble started.

    From the feeling she had in her stomach, she was expecting trouble to come soon. So do they, she thought. Just look at us.

    All three were walking much more slowly than before. Earl, in the lead, kept swiveling his head. Pete, by Barbara's side, was constantly glancing over his shoulder. Barbara, herself, couldn't stop turning this way and that to make sure nobody was about to creep out from behind a dumpster or pounce on them from the shadows of a car stall.

    We look like we're walking into an ambush and know it, she thought. It's just that we're spooked because of the bodies. Hope that's all it is. On the other side of the alley, a Dodge pickup truck was parked in the car port beneath the second story of an apartment building. Beside it stood a Jeep Wrangler. The Jeep didn't bother her; it was a convertible and she could see that nobody was in it. But the pickup bothered her a lot. It was a big pickup truck, not one of those sporty foreign jobs. The bed behind its cab had high metal sidings. From where she stood in the middle of the alley, Barbara couldn't see over its tailgate.