The quake, p.10
THE QUAKE, page 10
“Think this’ll do the trick?” Judy asked.
“It should.”
She handed the saw to him. “Maybe we should take her some water. It’s awfully hot out.”
We?
“Right back,” she said, and hurried toward the rear door of her house.
Now what? Stanley wondered.
Judy’s planning to come along, that’s what.
The door bumped shut.
Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut?
Picturing Sheila sprawled out in the tub, he moaned.
Judy would ruin it all.
Oh, no, she won’t!
The door flew open and slammed shut. Stanley watched Judy bound down the couple of stairs and stride toward him, swinging a plastic jug by her side. The jug was almost full. He could see the water through the frosted plastic, hear it sloshing. “Have some?” she asked.
He wanted to be rid of her.
No, I don’t want any of your fucking water. Get out of here and leave me alone!
But in his imagination, the water was as cold as a high Sierra stream spilling down from melting glaciers.
He clamped the saw handle between his knees, took the offered bottle, uncapped it, and raised it to his mouth. The water burbled out, flooding over his parched tongue, filling his mouth. Its sharp chill made his teeth ache. Cheeks bulging, he held the water in his mouth and capped the jug. He swallowed a small bit at a time until his mouth was empty.
“Thanks,” he said. “That sure hit the spot. Want some?”
“Not just now.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking, Judy. Maybe you oughta stay here while I go over and take care of Mrs. Banner. Her whole house is caved in. There’s broken glass, all kinds of nails and stuff. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be careful. Anyway, look at you. You’re wearing moccasins. If it’s that bad…”
“I made it okay last time.”
“I’d find you something for your feet, but you’re so much bigger than Herb.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m fine. But look, I’d better get going.” He shifted the water jug to his left hand, then bent over and took the saw from between his legs. “I’ll bring these back to you as soon as I’ve got her free.”
Frowning as if she didn’t understand, Judy shook her head. “It’s all right, I’ll come with you. You don’t need to worry about me. If I get hurt, I get hurt. The thing is, there’s no point in you trying to rescue this woman by yourself. I’m not totally useless, you know. I might be able to help. If nothing else, I can keep the two of you company—give you some moral support.”
“I don’t… just stay here. You must have a lot that needs to be done. Picking up, and…”
The look in her eyes stopped him. “What’s going on, Stan?”
His heart thudded. In spite of the drink he’d just taken, his mouth suddenly felt dry. “Nothing,” he said.
“Something’s going on.” She sounded more curious than suspicious. “Why don’t you want me to go with you?”
Think think THINK!
“Because… you make me nervous. The way you keep looking at me.”
“Looking at you? What are you talking about?”
“You know.”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s just drop it, okay? The thing is, you’re a very attractive woman. Very. But you’re married. That might not mean much to you, but…”
“What?” She gasped out a single, strange laugh.
“I’m sorry. I just have a rule that I don’t fool around with married women.”
“Hey, now.” Blinking, she shook her head. She looked astonished. “Let’s not get the wrong idea, here. You seem like a nice guy and everything, Stan, but if you think for one minute that I’m interested in…”
“You keep looking at me. You keep trying to get me into your house, and your husband isn’t even there. What else am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think we’ve just gone through a major earthquake, that we’re neighbors and I want to help you. Because that’s the truth. That’s it.”
“Is it?”
She jerked her head up and down once, fiercely. “Yes, that’s it. My God, Stan, I realize we barely know each other, but how you could ever get it into your head that…” Her eyes, watching him with a narrow glare, widened a bit.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Didn’t what?”
“Get it into your head. You knew good and well.”
“Knew what?”
Now, he saw fear in her eyes.
She shrugged her shoulders. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. “If you didn’t want my help, you should’ve just said so. It’s all right. Hell, I’ve got plenty of stuff to do around the house without butting in on your little rescue effort. So just go on ahead.” Still trying to smile, she began to step backward. “You can bring her over later on if you want… or not. Makes no difference to me. If you need anything, you know where to…”
Stanley dropped the saw and water jug. Before they had time to hit the driveway’s pavement, he sprang and grabbed the front of Judy’s shirt. She started to yell as he jerked her toward him. He pumped his knee into her belly.
The blow picked her up.
She landed on her knees. Hugging her belly, she pressed her forehead against the pavement.
Stanley went to her side.
He bent over and swept her shirt up, baring the lower portion of her back. She wore no belt. The waistband of her cut-offs bulged upward slightly. He peeked into the gap and glimpsed shadowy skin, the cleft of her buttocks, the white of her panties.
He shoved his hand in.
Clutched the denim.
Hefted Judy off the pavement and swung her around and hauled her to the back door of her house.
ELEVEN
“I can’t…” Heather gasped. “Can’t… gotta stop.” She’d done fine for a while, but her running had finally deteriorated to a stagger. Panting and hunched over, she held her stomach and grimaced.
Barbara, at her side, wondered if the girl was faking it.
They hadn’t run all that far since leaving Earl unconscious on the sidewalk. Though they’d taken off at a very quick pace, they’d slowed down after turning the first corner. From then on, they’d merely jogged.
Only a few moments before Heather’s first “I can’t,” they’d entered an alley that stretched westward behind house fences, garages, carports and garbage bins. Nearly every flat surface had been spray painted with gang signs. The alley ahead looked clear, though. No traffic, no major piles of rubble, no lurking strangers.
“Keep going,” Barbara urged the girl.
“Can’t.”
“Just to the next street.”
“I… I’ll try.”
Heather’s agony almost had to be an act.
Barbara might’ve been able to understand the huffing, moaning and stumbling if it came from a fat slob. But Heather was thin, almost skinny except for her chest. For such a small person, she had awfully big breasts. Maybe being so top-heavy made it hard to run. Maybe that’s what wiped her out.
Could be, Barbara thought. But also her legs aren’t as long as ours. And she just isn’t in very good shape.
Heather’s strides shortened, slowed.
“Keep it up. Come on. Just a little farther.”
Shaking her head, Heather halted. She bent over, clutched her knees and panted for air.
“Pete!” Barbara shouted. “Hold up!”
Pete jogged in a tight circle and came toward them. He didn’t seem to be out of breath, but he was red and sweaty from the heat. He stopped in front of them.
“How you doing?” he asked Heather.
She shook her head and kept on panting.
“We did pretty good,” Barbara said. “We might as well take it easy now.”
“I don’t know.” Pete lifted the front of his shirt and wiped sweat off his face. He was smooth and tanned above his belt. His gray trousers looked heavy, hot. “Think we managed to ditch him?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye out. He isn’t on our tail. Not that I could see, anyhow. That doesn’t mean he won’t find us, but we’d better quit running. Heather’s pooped. And it’s too hot.”
“Hot, all right.”
“You must be dying in those pants.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “Want to trade?”
Surprised, Barbara laughed. “No, that’s all right. I’ll keep my shorts.”
“They wouldn’t look as good on me, anyhow.”
When he said that, Heather let go of her knees and straightened up. She glanced from Barbara to Pete. “We just gonna stand around, or what?”
“Are you ready to go?” Barbara asked her.
“I’ve been ready. I’m not a weakling, you know.” She switched her purse strap to her other shoulder. “Just because you happen to be some sort of Amazon…”
“You’ve got the wrong Banner. The Amazon’s my mom.”
Pete started walking. Heather hurried and caught up to him.
Barbara hung back.
Let Heather fall all over him…
Pete looked over his shoulder, then stopped and waited. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Your mom’s not really an Amazon, is she?” Pete asked when Barbara came up next to him. He studied her eyes.
And she studied his. They were pale blue, their whites like fields of sunlit snow. They seemed intelligent, earnest.
“She isn’t from the Amazon, if that’s what you mean. She doesn’t throw spears.”
Pete smiled. “Does she file her teeth into points?”
“Nope. And she hasn’t cut off…” In mid-sentence, Barbara found herself reluctant to finish. “She’s just large, that’s all. Large and strong. A bodybuilder.”
Pete looked impressed. “You mother pumps iron?”
“So do I. Not like her, though. Compared to her, I’m sort of a pipsqueak.”
“You’re not any pipsqueak,” Pete said. “How tall are you?”
Can’t you tell? she wondered, looking straight forward into his eyes. She decided not to answer his question. So she shrugged.
“I’m five-eleven,” he said, “and you’re almost as tall as me.”
She grinned. Almost, huh? “Mom’s six-one,” she said.
“Man, that is big.”
“If you ask me,” Heather said, “it sounds pretty freakish.”
Barbara leaned forward and scowled at her. “Watch it, okay? You don’t even know my mom. How would you like it if I called your mom a freak?”
“My mom’s dead.”
The remark worked.
It hurt. A lot.
It felt like the time last year when an elbow had rammed Barbara in the solar plexus during a basketball game. Not only had the jab knocked her wind out, but it had sent a cold ache radiating through her whole body. The pain had numbed her, driven her to her knees. Later, the coach had explained that the solar plexus was a nerve center, so sensitive that a blow to it would drop just about anyone. Later still, in the locker room, her friend Lynn had informed her that it was exactly like getting kicked in the balls.
Stunned now with pain from Heather’s words. Barbara thought. It’s just like catching that elbow. And then she thought. What the hell did Lynn know about getting kicked in the balls?
She muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m not happy. I told you, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, sure.” Heather returned to Pete’s side and took hold of his hand.
He glanced at Barbara. He looked uncomfortable, downright squirmy. After the glance, he faced forward.
She stayed next to him, but kept her hands to herself.
Nobody said anything.
Beyond the end of the alley, the street appeared to be blocked solid with traffic. Barbara saw no people inside the cars. Some were milling about, others relaxing on their hoods or trunks.
“How did you lose your mother?” Pete asked.
I don’t want to hear this!
“I didn’t lose her. She killed herself.”
Barbara winced.
“She committed suicide?” Pete asked. He sounded appalled, impressed. As if he’d never heard of anything quite so astonishing.
Don’t ask how she did it, Pete. Please.
“How…? I mean, maybe you don’t want to talk about it.”
Maybe we don’t want to hear about it.
“No, it’s all right.” Heather leaned forward to see past Pete. “I bet you want to hear all about it.”
“Not really,” Barbara said.
“She jumped out a window, that’s how. She checked into a motel, but there was only just one vacancy for that night and it was on the third floor. The third floor, right?” Heather laughed. The laugh was harsh, off-key. Barbara saw tears in her eyes.
Why is she telling us this?
“Mom went on ahead and jumped anyway, though. The thing was, three stories up wasn’t really high enough. She landed flat on her back on the sidewalk, and it like split her open all over, but it didn’t kill her. She was still conscious. And screaming. Her brains were oozing out, and blood was coming out her ears and eyes and everywhere.”
They had all stopped walking.
Pete and Barbara both gaped at the girl.
She was grinning and weeping as she talked. A long string of snot dangled from her nose.
Why is she telling us this? How does she even know all this yucky stuff? What the hell is going on?
“So you know what Mom did? She couldn’t get up because she was too busted apart, so she wiggled across the sidewalk like a worm and dragged herself down into the street and a car ran over her head and popped it like a grape.”
With a look of frantic glee on her face, Heather sniffed and wiped her nose.
Whacko, Barbara thought. The girl’s gone completely whacko.
Pete didn’t seem to share that opinion. He looked stunned. “That’s… that’s horrible,” he said. “That’s the worst thing I ever heard.”
Heather suddenly flung herself against him. She pressed her face to his chest, hugged him, and wept. With one hand, Pete patted her back. With the other, he stroked her hair.
Method in her madness.
She probably made up the whole thing.
At least Pete didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention. As soon as Heather quit weeping, he eased her away. “Are you okay?”
She blinked up at him and sniffed.
“Can we go now?” Barbara asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. She walked to the end of the alley, then turned around. The other two were following, but farther away than she expected. “Maybe we oughta make another turn,” she called. “Just to make things tougher for Earl.”
“I don’t know,” Pete said. “Do you think we need to bother?”
“If he finds us, it won’t be pretty.”
“Well, which way do… Watch out!”
Barbara glimpsed a quick motion to her left. Jerked her head toward it. Saw a bicycle speeding toward her, a kid hunched over its handlebars. He looked no older than twelve. He had a big grin. “Beep beep, babe!” he called.
She leaped backward, yelling, “Hey!”
The bike missed her.
As it shot by, out darted the kid’s arm. He caught a handful of her blouse just below her right shoulder. Her blouse and the denim strap of her purse. She felt a quick tug. Buttons popped open. The right side of her blouse was tugged sideways and down off her shoulder before she could grab the kid’s wrist. She kept the grip for just an instant, then lost it.
The kid raced away, Barbara’s purse swinging at his side.
“You bastard!” she shouted. She swept her blouse shut and dashed after him.
The kid was moving off fast, butt up, head low, the bike wagging from side to side as he pumped its pedals.
Barbara sprinted after him.
A guy sitting on the hood of a car off to the side clapped and shouted, “All right!” After him, a small group of people standing beside a long white car watched her run by. They made comments among themselves, a woman pointing at her, a man staring, another man letting out a hoot. Then two landscape workers drinking beer in the bed of a pickup truck whistled as she rushed by. “Yo, baby!” one called. “Marry me!” called the other. “I make you smile all over!”
Creeps, she thought. So they can see my bra. Big deal.
Big men. Don’t see any of them trying to stop Bike Boy.
Though Barbara ran at full speed, she didn’t seem to be gaining on the kid. The sidewalk made a perfect getaway route for him: level and straight, unlittered by any debris from the quake.
Never catch him.
She kept on chasing him, anyway.
She tried to remember what she had in her purse—what she would lose: six or seven dollars; her house key and, oh yeah, the keys to the school car they’d left a long time ago somewhere in the middle of Pico Boulevard; her learner’s permit; her library card, brush and comb, compact and mirror, lipstick, tissues, some bubble gum, and a few photos in her wallet.
Nothing really major.
Except maybe the pictures. Mom and Dad, and what if they’ve both been…?
Those snapshots might be all I ever have of them again.
“Damn it, you bastard! Stop!”
He glanced over his shoulder and showed Barbara a big, white-toothed grin.
“Give me my purse!”
He swung an arm out behind him and hoisted his middle finger.
I’ll never get him. It’s useless.
She staggered to a halt. Gasping for breath, she started to fasten a button. The skin showing between the edges of her blouse was so sweaty it looked oiled. Her bra felt soaked.
She glanced back. Pete was coming toward her. He had Heather by the hand. He appeared to be towing her, trying to hurry but being held back. Obviously, Heather was in no rush.
Barbara took another look at the thief.
He was almost to the end of the block, still pedaling like mad, the purse swinging from his shoulder. And suddenly a man dressed like a banker leaped at him from behind a tree. The kid tried to swerve away. The man clubbed him in the face with a slim dark rod—a crowbar, maybe a tire tool.
