The quake, p.18
THE QUAKE, page 18
He had thought about taking Ben into his own place. It was deserted except for Mother, so they would have plenty of privacy. But why litter up the place with another body? If he killed Ben there, he would have to dispose of the corpse; it would be idiotic to put himself to so much effort when the neighborhood had plenty of other houses to choose from.
He had also considered taking Ben into Judy’s, but he planned to keep on using her house. Why mess it up and have Ben’s remains lying around? If all went well, he might be staying there for several days. Ben would start to stink the place up.
No, he would have to take his chances with the house of a stranger.
“You sure this is the place?” Ben asked as they crossed the front lawn.
“Yeah, this is it.”
“But you said the kid’s stuck under the chimney.”
“Huh?”
Ben pointed.
Stanley saw the chimney jutting above the section of the house that still stood. “Oh,” he said. “That’s the part that didn’t fall.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
The front door was shut—probably locked. But most of the house at the other end of the porch had collapsed. “This way,” Stanley said, heading for the wrecked area. “Here’s where I got in, last time.”
With Ben close behind him, he waded through the rubble. He made his way toward the section of the house that still stood. One of the interior walls had a doorway through which Stanley could see a shadowy carpet, a chair and a corner of a table.
“This is it,” he said. He leaned into the doorway. A dining room. Off to one side, he could see through an archway to the living room.
Both rooms looked as if they’d been kicked apart by a tribe of lunatics. But the ceilings and walls appeared to be intact, and curtains hid whatever damage had been done to the windows.
From where he stood, Stanley couldn’t see the living room fireplace.
“Hello!” he called into the gloom.
No answer came.
“Hello! Little girl? I’m back! I went and got some help, just like I said I would.”
Still, no answer.
Either the house was deserted, or its occupant was in no condition to speak.
Stanley looked over his shoulder. “Hope she’s still okay.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Ben said, and tossed his head to fling some stray hair away from his face. “I wanta get back to Sheila.”
“Here we go.” Stanley stepped through the doorway. The floor creaked under his weight, but it felt firm. Holding the saw by the side of his right leg, he walked slowly around the end of the dining room table. As he approached the archway, the fireplace came into view.
It looked as if it hadn’t been damaged at all.
When Ben sees this…
Stanley stepped through the archway.
Nobody else in the room. No way to see in from outside.
Perfecto!
“Oh, my God!” he blurted. “Ben! Ben!”
“What…?”
Quick footfalls behind him.
He whirled around, bringing the saw up from his side, flipping it over to put the teeth forward and chopping it at Ben’s neck in a clumsy, underhand swing. Ben yelped and flung up his arm to block the blow. He cried out as the teeth bit into him, then squealed as Stanley tugged the weapon, dragging its tiny steel teeth across the skin of his forearm.
“You nuts?” Ben yelled. He stumbled into the living room, clutching his wound and backing away.
“Nuts? Me?” Stanley raised the saw overhead. He walked toward Ben.
“Don’t. Hey. Come on. Look. You don’t gotta hurt me. Okay? What do you want? Just tell me. Okay? Whatever you want.” He kept backing away.
“If you go for the door,” Stanley said, “I’ll have to kill you.”
Ben stopped moving. “Okay. I won’t. I won’t do anything, okay? What do you want me to do? There isn’t any kid, right? Nobody’s trapped. It was just to get me here, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Fine.” Letting go of his bloody arm, he reached back with his left hand and pulled a billfold out of the rear pocket of his jeans. “This what you want? You can have it. I got almost fifty bucks in here.” He held it toward Stanley.
“Don’t want it.”
“What do you want?”
“Make me an offer.” As he said that, he saw Ben’s gaze slide down past his waist.
“Oh,” Ben said. “I get it.”
“Get what?”
Ben smirked. “Had me fooled. I figured it was Sheila you had the hots for.” He tucked the wallet back into his pocket. “This is okay, Stan. This is cool. Shoulda just asked, though, if you know what I mean. You didn’t have to go nuts and cut me.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Can we bandage my arm first?”
Stanley shook his head.
“I’m bleeding all over the place.”
“So what?”
“Okay. Okay. First things first, huh?” With an odd, slanted smile, Ben walked slowly closer.
Stanley stood motionless, the saw still raised. His heart was pounding and he had a hard time filling his lungs. “What do you…?”
His voice died as Ben knelt in front of him.
Ben popped open a snap. The loose remains of Stanley’s pajama pants clung to him with sweat, but only for a moment. Ben plucked them down.
“Oooo, look at you. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
Even without looking, he could feel that Ben was right. He lowered his gaze.
Can’t be, he thought. No way. Must be some other reason. Not because of him.
But he squirmed with the feel of Ben’s sliding fingers.
“Hey,” he said. “Stop it.”
“You don’t want me to stop.”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t go for this kind of stuff.”
“Who’re you trying to kid? Look at you. You’re aching for it.” Head back, eyes tilted upward and staring directly into his eyes, Ben reached up behind Stanley and squeezed his buttocks. Kneaded them with slick, bloody hands and leaned forward.
His lips felt like a soft, moist O.
The pliant ring slipped forward and Stanley felt himself being sucked deep into Ben’s mouth.
This is sick, he thought. This is perverted. The little rat’s a fag and…
Gotta stop him…
Gotta…
But it feels so…
Judy’s mouth had been a dry, unwilling hole doing what it had to do. Nothing like this.
But he’s a guy! Can’t let a guy do it to me! I’m not a fucking fairy!
“Stop it!” Stanley gasped.
Ben didn’t stop.
I don’t want him to stop.
Not yet.
Not till…
“No!” Stanley blurted.
He raced the toothed edge of the saw across the top of Ben’s skull. Ben’s mouth flew open. Stanley pulled out of it and kneed him under the chin. Ben fell backward and slammed against the floor, clutching his head with both hands. His face was twisted with pain. He cried out, “Are you insane? Why’d you do that? My God! My God!”
“Shut up.”
“You wanted it! You loved it! Look what you’ve done to me!”
“Yeah. And just look what I’m doing to you now.” He scurried around to Ben’s side and slashed down with the saw.
“No!”
Ben blocked it, but the blade ripped his hands. Squealing, he flung himself over. He tried to scurry away on hands and knees, but Stanley drove a foot down on his back, stomping him flat. As he pushed himself up, Stanley sat on him.
“No!” Ben shrieked. “Get off me!”
Stanley grabbed the long, bloody hair with one hand and swatted Ben’s rump with the flat of the saw. “Giddy-up!”
Ben crawled. Stanley rode him, liking the slippery feel of the back underneath him.
Shouldn’t be liking it, he told himself. Shouldn’t be liking any of this.
But he looks like a woman. From up here. He’s almost like one.
Yeah, but he isn’t one. He’s a guy.
You wouldn’t know it from up here. The hair. The skin. You can’t see she hasn’t got any tits under there.
Not she!
He!
Trying to make a fag out of me!
Stanley jerked Ben’s head back by the hair and sawed into the side of his neck. Blood flew.
The scream made his ears hurt.
Ben tried to buck him off.
Stanley planted his feet on the floor and clamped Ben tight between his thighs and hung on to the long hair and sawed and sawed.
Soon, Ben stopped struggling.
Stanley kept on sawing.
NINETEEN
They walked slowly down the alley. Barbara knew that, if she turned around, she would still be able to see the fallen mess of Mrs. Klein’s garage.
She didn’t look.
She wished they had never stopped to help the woman.
If they hadn’t stopped, they would be a lot closer to home by now. And maybe Mrs. Klein would still be alive.
Maybe we killed her by helping her.
It seemed like a crazy idea, but it made sense to Barbara. After all, they were the ones who had cleared away the really heavy debris. If Mrs. Klein hadn’t been able to make it through to her car window…
We can’t exactly call it our fault, she told herself. We didn’t rip her up, the cat did.
Barbara was a few strides ahead of Pete and Heather, so she turned around.
She couldn’t stop herself from gazing past them.
The tumbled garage wasn’t in sight, after all. Thank goodness for that, she thought.
Walking backward, she said, “My dad claims an earthquake never killed anyone—it’s the stuff that falls on your head.”
Pete smiled. “Cool.”
“Stupid,” Heather said.
“I’ll have to tell him quakes can also kill you with cats.”
“Man,” Pete said. “Do you believe that? I’ve never heard of anything that crazy.”
“I have,” Heather said. “I’ve heard of worse stuff.”
Of course you have. Barbara thought.
“I’ve heard about people getting eaten by their pet cats,” Heather explained. “At least Susie didn’t eat her.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Barbara said.
“You didn’t really look at her.”
“I looked at her plenty. I saw her better than you did. You didn’t have to carry her around like me and Pete.”
“You didn’t have to,” Heather said.
“Not if you’d helped, maybe.”
“It was your idea.”
“You still could’ve helped,” Barbara said.
“We should’ve just left her in the alley.”
“That would have been a lousy thing to do.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “I mean, I wasn’t overjoyed about touching her, exactly, but Jeez… How can you just leave her there? If I got myself killed in some lousy alley, I think it’d be pretty nice if somebody’d take me back into my house.”
“Not me,” Heather said.
Pete looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather have someone carry you inside and put you on a nice sofa in your own house so you don’t have to lay out there in the sun and…”
“You think she knows she’s on a nice sofa in her own house? Or that you two busted your humps hauling her in? You just wasted your energy, that’s all. Dead’s dead. Doesn’t matter where you end up.”
“You’d like to get left in an alley?” Barbara asked.
“Sure, why not?”
“A car might come along and run over you,” Pete pointed out.
Heather shrugged.
“A cat might eat your face,” Barbara said.
“So?”
“A wino might come stumbling along,” Barbara added, “and throw up on you.”
“Big deal.”
“Or rape you.”
“Sick,” Pete said. He wrinkled his nose at Barbara. “That’s really sick, Barbara.”
“It could happen,” she said. “I’ve read about people who do stuff like that. Serial killers do it all the time.”
“Yeah, but…”
“So what if some wino came along and raped me?” Heather said. “That’d be his problem, know what I mean? I’d be dead, so how’s it supposed to matter to me? I’d sure rather get raped when I’m dead than when I’m alive. It’s no picnic, getting raped. I’d rather be dead if it’s gonna happen again.”
Oh, Jeez. She’s been raped.
Big surprise. Barbara thought. Is there anything horrible that hasn’t happened to Heather?
Pete looked shocked and embarrassed. “You mean… somebody raped you?”
“Oh, do tell us all about it,” Barbara said.
Heather gaped at her. “You think it’s funny?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You oughta try getting raped and see how you like it.”
“Thanks, anyway.” As she said that, she saw how Pete was looking at her. “Oh, give me a break. She’s dying to tell us in great gory detail all about it, and I’m a little tired of hearing about Heather’s endless stream of weird tragedies. My God, she makes Anne Frank sound like a lucky kid.”
“Who?” Heather asked.
“Look!” Pete blurted, pointing behind Barbara.
Barbara whirled around.
Out from behind a garbage bin strolled a husky cat. It stopped and stared at them. Its up-curled tail was golden brown with a white tip. Its eyes were amber. Its nose and muzzle must’ve been licked clean; the rest of the cat looked as if it had been dipped in a vat of blood. The fur was matted flat, clumpy, dripping.
“It’s Susie,” Heather whispered.
Barbara stomped her foot down hard against the alley pavement.
The cat didn’t so much as flinch.
“Don’t scare it away,” Heather said.
Barbara looked back at her. “What do you want to do, adopt the thing?”
“I don’t wanta have it around me,” Pete said.
“Let’s just keep going,” Barbara suggested. “Maybe it’ll mind its own business and go off on its own. Just don’t do anything to entice it, Heather.”
As she walked forward, the cat turned away and began sauntering up the middle of the alley. It glanced back. Its jaw worked and it made a noise that sounded like “Raw.”
Barbara stomped her foot again.
The cat continued to stroll up the alley, staying a small distance in front of her.
“Great,” Pete muttered.
“The cat’s meow,” Barbara said, and slowed her pace until Pete and Heather caught up to her. “Think I’ll just stick with you guys,” she said.
“She’s probably just lonely,” Heather said.
“Me or the cat?” Barbara asked.
“Susie.”
The cat looked back again.
“Great,” Barbara said. “Try not to say her name, okay? The thing’s a psycho.”
They walked in silence, their eyes on the cat. It stopped looking back. Once in a while, its tail twitched. It crossed a deserted street and entered an alley on the other side.
“Maybe it’ll keep going,” Pete said. He nodded to his left. “Let’s try that way.”
They turned and started up the sidewalk, but only took a few strides before Pete suddenly stopped.
Near the end of the block, four young men were coming out of a house, yelling and laughing, their arms loaded. One seemed to be carrying a television. Another had an electric guitar.
Before Barbara saw what the others were taking, Pete said, “Uh-oh.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Barbara whispered. Whirling around, she found the cat staring up at her. She feigned a kick at it, then broke into a run.
Susie scampered ahead of them as they raced into the alley.
They sprinted past a hedge, past garbage bins and car ports and backyard fences. Pete kept looking over his shoulder as he ran. Soon, he slowed to a jog. “I don’t think they’re coming,” he gasped.
Heather staggered to a halt. She bent over and clutched her knees and panted for air.
Barbara walked in slow circles, hands on hips, head back as she tried to catch her breath. She was dripping wet. “We’d better… stick to the alleys.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “Yeah. Jeez.” He picked up the front of his shirt and wiped his face with it. “Those guys… they had to be looting… don’t you think?”
“Sure looked like it.”
“Man.”
Heather, still bent over and huffing, raised her sweaty red face. “What if they… come?”
“They won’t,” Pete said.
“But if…”
“They’d be here by now,” Barbara said. “Probably. Anyway, they… had their hands full.”
“We oughta hide.”
Barbara shook her head. Sprinkles of sweat flew off her hair. “We’ll never get home if we… hide. Gotta keep…”
“We won’t get home… if we get jumped by… guys like them.”
“Over here,” Pete said. He pointed, and walked toward a recessed parking area at the rear of an apartment building. Except for a few minor cracks in the stucco walls, the overhanging structure looked as if it hadn’t been touched by the earthquake.
There were stalls for six vehicles.
Four were empty.
A pickup and a station wagon were parked side by side. Pete entered the narrow space between them. Barbara hurried after him, and Heather followed her. “We’ll just rest here for a minute or two,” Pete said.
They sat down. The concrete floor felt slightly cool. Barbara started to lean back, but the pickup’s front tire was behind her. She was filthy enough already. Besides, how comfortable could a tire be? She crossed her legs, leaned forward, and propped her elbows on her knees.
The top of her blouse was wide open, thanks to the ruined buttonholes. Her chest looked dark and shiny. Her white bra had gotten smudged with dirt. The moisture from her sweat made the cups a little transparent. She could see the color of her skin through them, but her blouse wasn’t open quite far enough to let her nipples show.
Pete had probably seen plenty.
Nothing I can do about it, she told herself. Not unless I wear my blouse backwards, and that’d look pretty stupid.
He had also considered taking Ben into Judy’s, but he planned to keep on using her house. Why mess it up and have Ben’s remains lying around? If all went well, he might be staying there for several days. Ben would start to stink the place up.
No, he would have to take his chances with the house of a stranger.
“You sure this is the place?” Ben asked as they crossed the front lawn.
“Yeah, this is it.”
“But you said the kid’s stuck under the chimney.”
“Huh?”
Ben pointed.
Stanley saw the chimney jutting above the section of the house that still stood. “Oh,” he said. “That’s the part that didn’t fall.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
The front door was shut—probably locked. But most of the house at the other end of the porch had collapsed. “This way,” Stanley said, heading for the wrecked area. “Here’s where I got in, last time.”
With Ben close behind him, he waded through the rubble. He made his way toward the section of the house that still stood. One of the interior walls had a doorway through which Stanley could see a shadowy carpet, a chair and a corner of a table.
“This is it,” he said. He leaned into the doorway. A dining room. Off to one side, he could see through an archway to the living room.
Both rooms looked as if they’d been kicked apart by a tribe of lunatics. But the ceilings and walls appeared to be intact, and curtains hid whatever damage had been done to the windows.
From where he stood, Stanley couldn’t see the living room fireplace.
“Hello!” he called into the gloom.
No answer came.
“Hello! Little girl? I’m back! I went and got some help, just like I said I would.”
Still, no answer.
Either the house was deserted, or its occupant was in no condition to speak.
Stanley looked over his shoulder. “Hope she’s still okay.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Ben said, and tossed his head to fling some stray hair away from his face. “I wanta get back to Sheila.”
“Here we go.” Stanley stepped through the doorway. The floor creaked under his weight, but it felt firm. Holding the saw by the side of his right leg, he walked slowly around the end of the dining room table. As he approached the archway, the fireplace came into view.
It looked as if it hadn’t been damaged at all.
When Ben sees this…
Stanley stepped through the archway.
Nobody else in the room. No way to see in from outside.
Perfecto!
“Oh, my God!” he blurted. “Ben! Ben!”
“What…?”
Quick footfalls behind him.
He whirled around, bringing the saw up from his side, flipping it over to put the teeth forward and chopping it at Ben’s neck in a clumsy, underhand swing. Ben yelped and flung up his arm to block the blow. He cried out as the teeth bit into him, then squealed as Stanley tugged the weapon, dragging its tiny steel teeth across the skin of his forearm.
“You nuts?” Ben yelled. He stumbled into the living room, clutching his wound and backing away.
“Nuts? Me?” Stanley raised the saw overhead. He walked toward Ben.
“Don’t. Hey. Come on. Look. You don’t gotta hurt me. Okay? What do you want? Just tell me. Okay? Whatever you want.” He kept backing away.
“If you go for the door,” Stanley said, “I’ll have to kill you.”
Ben stopped moving. “Okay. I won’t. I won’t do anything, okay? What do you want me to do? There isn’t any kid, right? Nobody’s trapped. It was just to get me here, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Fine.” Letting go of his bloody arm, he reached back with his left hand and pulled a billfold out of the rear pocket of his jeans. “This what you want? You can have it. I got almost fifty bucks in here.” He held it toward Stanley.
“Don’t want it.”
“What do you want?”
“Make me an offer.” As he said that, he saw Ben’s gaze slide down past his waist.
“Oh,” Ben said. “I get it.”
“Get what?”
Ben smirked. “Had me fooled. I figured it was Sheila you had the hots for.” He tucked the wallet back into his pocket. “This is okay, Stan. This is cool. Shoulda just asked, though, if you know what I mean. You didn’t have to go nuts and cut me.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Can we bandage my arm first?”
Stanley shook his head.
“I’m bleeding all over the place.”
“So what?”
“Okay. Okay. First things first, huh?” With an odd, slanted smile, Ben walked slowly closer.
Stanley stood motionless, the saw still raised. His heart was pounding and he had a hard time filling his lungs. “What do you…?”
His voice died as Ben knelt in front of him.
Ben popped open a snap. The loose remains of Stanley’s pajama pants clung to him with sweat, but only for a moment. Ben plucked them down.
“Oooo, look at you. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
Even without looking, he could feel that Ben was right. He lowered his gaze.
Can’t be, he thought. No way. Must be some other reason. Not because of him.
But he squirmed with the feel of Ben’s sliding fingers.
“Hey,” he said. “Stop it.”
“You don’t want me to stop.”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t go for this kind of stuff.”
“Who’re you trying to kid? Look at you. You’re aching for it.” Head back, eyes tilted upward and staring directly into his eyes, Ben reached up behind Stanley and squeezed his buttocks. Kneaded them with slick, bloody hands and leaned forward.
His lips felt like a soft, moist O.
The pliant ring slipped forward and Stanley felt himself being sucked deep into Ben’s mouth.
This is sick, he thought. This is perverted. The little rat’s a fag and…
Gotta stop him…
Gotta…
But it feels so…
Judy’s mouth had been a dry, unwilling hole doing what it had to do. Nothing like this.
But he’s a guy! Can’t let a guy do it to me! I’m not a fucking fairy!
“Stop it!” Stanley gasped.
Ben didn’t stop.
I don’t want him to stop.
Not yet.
Not till…
“No!” Stanley blurted.
He raced the toothed edge of the saw across the top of Ben’s skull. Ben’s mouth flew open. Stanley pulled out of it and kneed him under the chin. Ben fell backward and slammed against the floor, clutching his head with both hands. His face was twisted with pain. He cried out, “Are you insane? Why’d you do that? My God! My God!”
“Shut up.”
“You wanted it! You loved it! Look what you’ve done to me!”
“Yeah. And just look what I’m doing to you now.” He scurried around to Ben’s side and slashed down with the saw.
“No!”
Ben blocked it, but the blade ripped his hands. Squealing, he flung himself over. He tried to scurry away on hands and knees, but Stanley drove a foot down on his back, stomping him flat. As he pushed himself up, Stanley sat on him.
“No!” Ben shrieked. “Get off me!”
Stanley grabbed the long, bloody hair with one hand and swatted Ben’s rump with the flat of the saw. “Giddy-up!”
Ben crawled. Stanley rode him, liking the slippery feel of the back underneath him.
Shouldn’t be liking it, he told himself. Shouldn’t be liking any of this.
But he looks like a woman. From up here. He’s almost like one.
Yeah, but he isn’t one. He’s a guy.
You wouldn’t know it from up here. The hair. The skin. You can’t see she hasn’t got any tits under there.
Not she!
He!
Trying to make a fag out of me!
Stanley jerked Ben’s head back by the hair and sawed into the side of his neck. Blood flew.
The scream made his ears hurt.
Ben tried to buck him off.
Stanley planted his feet on the floor and clamped Ben tight between his thighs and hung on to the long hair and sawed and sawed.
Soon, Ben stopped struggling.
Stanley kept on sawing.
NINETEEN
They walked slowly down the alley. Barbara knew that, if she turned around, she would still be able to see the fallen mess of Mrs. Klein’s garage.
She didn’t look.
She wished they had never stopped to help the woman.
If they hadn’t stopped, they would be a lot closer to home by now. And maybe Mrs. Klein would still be alive.
Maybe we killed her by helping her.
It seemed like a crazy idea, but it made sense to Barbara. After all, they were the ones who had cleared away the really heavy debris. If Mrs. Klein hadn’t been able to make it through to her car window…
We can’t exactly call it our fault, she told herself. We didn’t rip her up, the cat did.
Barbara was a few strides ahead of Pete and Heather, so she turned around.
She couldn’t stop herself from gazing past them.
The tumbled garage wasn’t in sight, after all. Thank goodness for that, she thought.
Walking backward, she said, “My dad claims an earthquake never killed anyone—it’s the stuff that falls on your head.”
Pete smiled. “Cool.”
“Stupid,” Heather said.
“I’ll have to tell him quakes can also kill you with cats.”
“Man,” Pete said. “Do you believe that? I’ve never heard of anything that crazy.”
“I have,” Heather said. “I’ve heard of worse stuff.”
Of course you have. Barbara thought.
“I’ve heard about people getting eaten by their pet cats,” Heather explained. “At least Susie didn’t eat her.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Barbara said.
“You didn’t really look at her.”
“I looked at her plenty. I saw her better than you did. You didn’t have to carry her around like me and Pete.”
“You didn’t have to,” Heather said.
“Not if you’d helped, maybe.”
“It was your idea.”
“You still could’ve helped,” Barbara said.
“We should’ve just left her in the alley.”
“That would have been a lousy thing to do.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “I mean, I wasn’t overjoyed about touching her, exactly, but Jeez… How can you just leave her there? If I got myself killed in some lousy alley, I think it’d be pretty nice if somebody’d take me back into my house.”
“Not me,” Heather said.
Pete looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather have someone carry you inside and put you on a nice sofa in your own house so you don’t have to lay out there in the sun and…”
“You think she knows she’s on a nice sofa in her own house? Or that you two busted your humps hauling her in? You just wasted your energy, that’s all. Dead’s dead. Doesn’t matter where you end up.”
“You’d like to get left in an alley?” Barbara asked.
“Sure, why not?”
“A car might come along and run over you,” Pete pointed out.
Heather shrugged.
“A cat might eat your face,” Barbara said.
“So?”
“A wino might come stumbling along,” Barbara added, “and throw up on you.”
“Big deal.”
“Or rape you.”
“Sick,” Pete said. He wrinkled his nose at Barbara. “That’s really sick, Barbara.”
“It could happen,” she said. “I’ve read about people who do stuff like that. Serial killers do it all the time.”
“Yeah, but…”
“So what if some wino came along and raped me?” Heather said. “That’d be his problem, know what I mean? I’d be dead, so how’s it supposed to matter to me? I’d sure rather get raped when I’m dead than when I’m alive. It’s no picnic, getting raped. I’d rather be dead if it’s gonna happen again.”
Oh, Jeez. She’s been raped.
Big surprise. Barbara thought. Is there anything horrible that hasn’t happened to Heather?
Pete looked shocked and embarrassed. “You mean… somebody raped you?”
“Oh, do tell us all about it,” Barbara said.
Heather gaped at her. “You think it’s funny?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You oughta try getting raped and see how you like it.”
“Thanks, anyway.” As she said that, she saw how Pete was looking at her. “Oh, give me a break. She’s dying to tell us in great gory detail all about it, and I’m a little tired of hearing about Heather’s endless stream of weird tragedies. My God, she makes Anne Frank sound like a lucky kid.”
“Who?” Heather asked.
“Look!” Pete blurted, pointing behind Barbara.
Barbara whirled around.
Out from behind a garbage bin strolled a husky cat. It stopped and stared at them. Its up-curled tail was golden brown with a white tip. Its eyes were amber. Its nose and muzzle must’ve been licked clean; the rest of the cat looked as if it had been dipped in a vat of blood. The fur was matted flat, clumpy, dripping.
“It’s Susie,” Heather whispered.
Barbara stomped her foot down hard against the alley pavement.
The cat didn’t so much as flinch.
“Don’t scare it away,” Heather said.
Barbara looked back at her. “What do you want to do, adopt the thing?”
“I don’t wanta have it around me,” Pete said.
“Let’s just keep going,” Barbara suggested. “Maybe it’ll mind its own business and go off on its own. Just don’t do anything to entice it, Heather.”
As she walked forward, the cat turned away and began sauntering up the middle of the alley. It glanced back. Its jaw worked and it made a noise that sounded like “Raw.”
Barbara stomped her foot again.
The cat continued to stroll up the alley, staying a small distance in front of her.
“Great,” Pete muttered.
“The cat’s meow,” Barbara said, and slowed her pace until Pete and Heather caught up to her. “Think I’ll just stick with you guys,” she said.
“She’s probably just lonely,” Heather said.
“Me or the cat?” Barbara asked.
“Susie.”
The cat looked back again.
“Great,” Barbara said. “Try not to say her name, okay? The thing’s a psycho.”
They walked in silence, their eyes on the cat. It stopped looking back. Once in a while, its tail twitched. It crossed a deserted street and entered an alley on the other side.
“Maybe it’ll keep going,” Pete said. He nodded to his left. “Let’s try that way.”
They turned and started up the sidewalk, but only took a few strides before Pete suddenly stopped.
Near the end of the block, four young men were coming out of a house, yelling and laughing, their arms loaded. One seemed to be carrying a television. Another had an electric guitar.
Before Barbara saw what the others were taking, Pete said, “Uh-oh.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Barbara whispered. Whirling around, she found the cat staring up at her. She feigned a kick at it, then broke into a run.
Susie scampered ahead of them as they raced into the alley.
They sprinted past a hedge, past garbage bins and car ports and backyard fences. Pete kept looking over his shoulder as he ran. Soon, he slowed to a jog. “I don’t think they’re coming,” he gasped.
Heather staggered to a halt. She bent over and clutched her knees and panted for air.
Barbara walked in slow circles, hands on hips, head back as she tried to catch her breath. She was dripping wet. “We’d better… stick to the alleys.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “Yeah. Jeez.” He picked up the front of his shirt and wiped his face with it. “Those guys… they had to be looting… don’t you think?”
“Sure looked like it.”
“Man.”
Heather, still bent over and huffing, raised her sweaty red face. “What if they… come?”
“They won’t,” Pete said.
“But if…”
“They’d be here by now,” Barbara said. “Probably. Anyway, they… had their hands full.”
“We oughta hide.”
Barbara shook her head. Sprinkles of sweat flew off her hair. “We’ll never get home if we… hide. Gotta keep…”
“We won’t get home… if we get jumped by… guys like them.”
“Over here,” Pete said. He pointed, and walked toward a recessed parking area at the rear of an apartment building. Except for a few minor cracks in the stucco walls, the overhanging structure looked as if it hadn’t been touched by the earthquake.
There were stalls for six vehicles.
Four were empty.
A pickup and a station wagon were parked side by side. Pete entered the narrow space between them. Barbara hurried after him, and Heather followed her. “We’ll just rest here for a minute or two,” Pete said.
They sat down. The concrete floor felt slightly cool. Barbara started to lean back, but the pickup’s front tire was behind her. She was filthy enough already. Besides, how comfortable could a tire be? She crossed her legs, leaned forward, and propped her elbows on her knees.
The top of her blouse was wide open, thanks to the ruined buttonholes. Her chest looked dark and shiny. Her white bra had gotten smudged with dirt. The moisture from her sweat made the cups a little transparent. She could see the color of her skin through them, but her blouse wasn’t open quite far enough to let her nipples show.
Pete had probably seen plenty.
Nothing I can do about it, she told herself. Not unless I wear my blouse backwards, and that’d look pretty stupid.
