'Well…' Clint said.
'And talk about unsanitary.'
'I think it's about time to change the subject.'
'Bravo,' Mary said. 'I thought you'd never notice.'
'What should we talk about?' Em asked. 'Mary! Have you got a boyfriend?'
'A boyfriend?'
'You know, a guy? A sweetie? A lover?'
'None of your business.'
'That's a no,' Em explained to Clint.
'Not necessarily.'
'It doesn't mean no,' Mary said. 'It means none of your business.'
'Maybe if you had a slightly more cheerful temperament, you'd have more luck with the fellas.'
Clint struggled not to laugh. Mary's open hand smacked the back of Em's head.
Em yelped, 'Ah!' and flinched and staggered forward, ducking.
'Hey!' Clint shouted, whirling to face Mary. 'What the hell is the matter with you?'
'The little shit's got a big mouth!'
'That's no call to hit her, for Godsake! She's just a kid!'
'She's a little shit and I'm sick of her!'
'Then take a hike!’
'What?'
'You heard me, take a hike.' Clint turned to Em. The girl stood nearby, bent over, a hand clasped to the back of her head. She had dropped her paper bag to the sidewalk, where the two water-filled Pepsi containers inside had made it tumbled over.
Clint curled a hand gently against the back of her neck. It felt moist, and very hot. 'Are you okay?'
'I seem to be getting knocked around an awful lot today,' she said, her voice quiet but steady.
Clint felt a thickness in his throat.
'Somebody oughta tell her it's not nice to hit people.'
He felt heat and wetness in his eyes, and Em's bowed blonde head went blurry.
'I hardly touched her,' Mary muttered.
'Do you want me to hardly touch you that way?'
'Don't,' Em told him. 'I don't want you hitting her.'
'I wasn't planning on it, but I'm tempted.'
'I'm sorry, okay?' Mary said.
'You sound sorry.'
'I won't do it again.'
'Just leave. Just get the hell out of here.'
Mary shook her head. She looked shocked, angry. 'I told you, won't do it again.'
'You shouldn't have done it in the first place.'
'I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry!'
'So what?'
She raised her chin and stiffened her back. 'You've got to give me another chance, that's what.'
'No, don't.'
'Yes, you do. You can't just send me away. You have to give me another chance.'
'In what rule book does it say that?' Clint asked.
'Everybody knows that.'
'Not me. don't believe in second chances, apologies, any of that crap - not when you pull a stunt like whacking kid or…'
'She's not your kid!'
'She's someone's kid, and she's my friend, and if had done that to my kid Barbara you wouldn't be talking back to me right now about second chances, you'd be on your ass on the sidewalk bleeding!' He took a quick toward Mary and shouted in her face, 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND?'
The color drained from her face. She staggered back as if bludgeoned. Her lips twitched. Her chin quivered. Tears filled her eyes. Em turned around and watched her.
'I'm sorry!' Mary blurted. This time, she looked and sounded as if she meant it.
'Who cares,' Clint said.
'You can't just leave me here!'
'Maybe we oughta tie her up,' Em suggested.
'See what a bitch she is! See!'
'She's kidding. Just stay away from us, that's all. Stay out of reach and keep your mouth shut, or else might tie you up.'
Mary sniffed, rubbed her nose, and glared at both of them.
Bending down, Clint picked up the sack that Em had dropped. 'I'll take this for a while.'
'No, that's 'okay. don't mind carrying it.'
'It's awfully heavy. I'll carry it. What about the food?'
'What about it?' Em asked.
'Do you still want to share any of it with Mary, after what she did?'
Mary shifted her gaze from Clint to Em. 'Don't do me any favors,' she said.
Em pulled her head back and made a face as if Mary were threatening her with a fingertip loaded with snot. Then she turned to Clint. She made a crooked smile. 'She can have stuff. don't care.'
'I don't want any of your damn food.'
'It'll be a long day,' Clint told her. 'You'll probably be getting hungry, so you'd better take something now. I'm not letting you anywhere near us once we start moving.'
'Big deal. I'm not gonna eat any of your precious food. If you're gonna leave me, go. Get outa here.
Clint nodded to Em. 'Let's go,' he said.
They started walking again. After taking eight or ten steps Clint glanced over his shoulder. Mary was already following. She abruptly halted. Sneering, she said, 'Do you want me to count to a hundred first?'
He shook his head. To Em, he said, 'Let's just pick up the pace a bit, and we'll leave her in the dust.'
They both began to quicken their strides. They walked by side, Clint clutching the bag by its crumpled top. It felt heavy. He felt bad about letting Em carry it for such time.
'You should've told me it was so heavy,' he said. 'It's not so heavy.’
'It weighs a ton.'
'I'll take it,' Em said, reaching out.
'No, you won't.'
'I don't mind. My book bag is a lot heavier, and carry it around all the time.'
'That's okay. I'll carry this.' He kept hold of the bag, swinging it as they hurried along. When he glanced back, Mary was chugging along at a clip. 'I can't believe it,' he said. 'Now she's walking fast.'
Em looked over her shoulder. 'She's scared of being left behind.'
'Guess so. Knows we won't stop to wait for her anymore.'
But they did have to stop. At Ventura Boulevard, the roads they needed to cross were jammed with traffic. The lights were dead, just as Clint had expected. And nobody was out in the road, trying to direct traffic. Horns blared. People yelled. Cars and trucks, packed bumper to bumper, crept through the intersection while some inched off onto the crowded lanes of northbound Laurel Canyon and others struggled to turn right from Laurel and squeeze onto Ventura. On the far side of Ventura, Laurel Canyon Boulevard was deserted. Its pavement stretched southward toward the hills, broad and sunlit and empty.
'What a mess,' Em said.
'It looks like they've got Laurel Canyon closed,' Clint told her.
'Yeah?' She stood on tiptoes, but shook her head. 'I can't see it.'
'There's no traffic at all over there.'
'Figures,' Em said. 'Laurel is always getting shut down. If it isn't a mud slide, it's a car crash, or a fire, or an earthquake. Always something.'
'We'd better be able to get through,' Clint said. He felt his lips pull back, baring his teeth.
'We could go over to Coldwater Canyon.'
'It'd be miles out of the way.' He shook his head. 'It has to be Laurel.'
'I'm waiting!' Mary called, her voice only slightly audible over the noises of engines and sighing brakes and car horns and radio music and shouts.
She stood about fifteen feet back, hands on hips, head tilted toward her left shoulder.
'Stay where you are,' Clint ordered.
'Are you gonna cross the street,' she called, 'or what?'
'Let's go,' Clint said to Em. 'Stay close to me, and keep your eyes open.'
For now, the lead cars on Laurel were motionless, waiting for small gaps between bumpers so that they might risk moving out onto Ventura for their right-hand turns. It looked like it might be a long wait; the traffic on Ventura seemed to be at a dead halt. With nobody likely to make a right turn and hit them, they only needed to worry about being crashed between cars that were waiting, going nowhere on Ventura. Clint stepped off the curb. There was room for one leg time between the front of a
Dodge pickup and the rear Mazda. He stopped beside the fight front tire of the Dodge. The driver behind the windshield wore a cowboy hat and a cigarette dangled from a corner of his lips. He gave Clint wave. Clint smiled, called, 'Thanks,' and moved in front of the track. As he started to sidestep through the gap, he beckoned Em. She gave the driver a big smile, and came in. Mary failed to stay back. Don't worry about it, Clint told himself. The thing is to get across the street in one piece. Forget about her. She'd better just behave, that's all.
The Escort and Cherokee in the next lane were bumper to bumper. Clint walked through a narrow space toward the back of the Escort, and found a Cadillac that hadn't pulled out of the way. The Cadillac's driver was a young woman who reminded him strongly of Mary. A career woman, severe in her business suit. Though she faced forward, she wore sunglasses. Clint couldn't see her eyes. He patted the hood with his open hand, and saw her jerk. Smiling, he gestured his intention to walk in front of car. She didn't respond.
'We're coming through!' he yelled.
Her lips seemed to tighten slightly. She looks like a real bitch, he thought. But she might be a perfectly nice person. Anyway, it'd take more than a bitch to run into you on purpose. It'd take a complete lunatic. It's probably safe, he told himself. If you're wrong, you get your legs crushed at the knees. He gestured for Em to wait. Then he stepped in front of the Cadillac. He took another step. It'll be all right, he thought. VROOOOOMMM. At the roar of the engine, he sucked a shocked breath and jammed his left hand against the hood and thought, This is it. Should've jumped! A moment later, as the roar faded to a quiet idle, he realized that the car had not suddenly lurched forward and demolished his legs. The gal had gunned it, all right. But she must've taken it out of gear, first. Gunned it in neutral, just to give him a thrill, and kept her foot on the brake. He looked at her. The pointed corners of her mouth turned upward. Clint hurried through. Safe on the other side of the Cadillac, he glared in at the driver. She continued to smile toward him. Em still waited.
'Don't go in front of this idiot,' Clint called to her.
Em nodded. Then climbed up onto the hood and crawled across on her hands and knees, grinning toward the windshield. The driver's smile quit. Crawling by, Em smacked the glass hard with her open hand. The driver flinched. Clint shook his head as she came toward him. She grinned.
'You're a little wild,' he said.
'I was gonna spit on her windshield, but held off. Sometimes I've gotta hold back on these tendencies. could be a pretty unsavory person, if let myself go. Laughing, Clint gave the top of her head a quick rub. Her hair felt soft and dry and very hot from the sun. It made him think about Barbara, the many times he had rubbed her head, usually to her annoyance. Cut it out, Dad. It hurt him to think about Barbara. What if she's dead? She could be dead right now. And Sheila might be dead, too. Buried under the house. No. Not both of them. couldn't stand it if had to lose both of them… Couldn't stand it to lose either of them. They're both fine, he told himself. They've got to be.
'Are you okay, Mr Banner?'
He realized that his hand was motionless on top of her head. They were standing in the narrow space between lines of stopped cars, and she was gazing up at him with a worried look on her face.
'I'm fine,' he said. 'I was just thinking about my wife and kid.'
'I bet they're all right.'
'Yeah. sure hope so.'
He turned his head and saw Mary. She still stood at the far side of the Cadillac. She was watching them.
'Are you coming?' Em called to her.
'After what you did?'
'Cheerio, then.'
Mary seemed to sag. She looked like a traveller who had arrived at a rushing stream only to find that the bridge had been washed away. Clint could almost feel sorry for her. 'Let's go,' he said to Em.
Passing through a gap between two more cars, they reached the middle of Ventura Boulevard. As they headed toward the front of an eastbound RTD bus, Clint looked around for Mary. He couldn't spot her.
Em looked, too. 'Gone,' she pronounced.
'I'm sure it's a temporary reprieve. She's probably just behind something at the moment. Like that van way over there.'
'Maybe she got into a car.'
'That's possible.'
Em gave her eyebrows a playful wiggle. 'She sounded very fond of air conditioning.'
They made their way carefully through another lane of halted traffic, then scanned the area again for Mary. 'Maybe she did get in a car,' Clint said.
'You don't suppose something happened to her…?'
'Like what?'
Em bounced one of her slim shoulders. 'She might've gotten grabbed, suppose.'
'Can't imagine who would want to grab her.'
'Someone who doesn't know her?'
Clint laughed.
'But really,' Em said, 'I'd hate for anything to happen her. mean, even though she is a major pain It'd be my fault, you know?'
'Wouldn't be your fault,' Clint said. 'I'm sure she's okay though. She's probably just taking a long way around. We can wait for her when we get to the other side.'
He led the way. A couple of minutes later, they across the last lane and stepped up onto the curb.
Em pursed her lips and blew out a breath. 'Glad that's over with.'
'And no more major intersections to worry about until get to Sunset Boulevard.'
'Which isn't till the other side of the hills, right?'
'Right.'
'By then, maybe they'll have the traffic lights working.'
'You never know.'
'What about Mary?' Em asked.
They both scanned the lanes of stopped traffic. No sign of her.
'I don't know,' Clint said.
'Do you think we should go back and look for her?’
'No.'
'Are you sure?'
'I'm sure.'
'What if something happened to her?'
'Nothing did. If she'd gotten nailed between a couple cars, we would've heard the commotion. And really don't think that she was grabbed in the middle of Ventura Boulevard on a day like this by a psychopath or serial killer or anything like that. Too many witnesses. Nowhere to go. My guess is, she made a big detour looking for better openings in the traffic, and she'll be showing up in a minute or two.'
'You think so?'
'Sure.'
'Maybe we oughta wait around for her,' Em said.
Clint smiled. 'This is our big chance to lose her.'
'I know, but then I'd have to go around feeling guilty about it.'
'Okay. We can wait for a while. Let's see what's going on over here.'
The entrance to Laurel Canyon Boulevard on this side of Ventura was blocked by two police cars and a cordon of bright yellow plastic that stretched across the entire road. The streamer was printed with black lettering that read, 'POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS.'
Clint stepped off the curb and walked behind it toward the patrol cars. Two uniformed officers leaned against the side of one of the cars. A man and a woman, both with very young faces and short dark hair, both with their arms folded across their chests, both keeping their eyes on Ventura as they talked and smiled and nodded. When Clint and Em approached them, they turned their heads.
'Can we help you?' asked the female. According to the silver tag on her chest, her name was Baker. She had a friendly, calm smile.
'How come you aren't out there directing traffic?' Em asked.
Clint gave her a dirty look.
'Not much point, is there?' Officer Baker said. 'Where would we direct it to?'
'We're just keeping an eye on the situation,' the explained. Murphy was engraved on his nameplate. Making sure nothing gets out of hand.'
'What's the problem with Laurel?' Clint asked.
'You can't get through,' Murphy said. 'This side of Mulholland, the pavement's buckled in several places. On the other side, they've got slides.'
'A real mess,' Baker said. 'We spent half the morning having to clear out th
e vehicles that got stuck. Were you hoping to get through?'
'I live in West L.A.,' Clint explained. 'I've got to my wife and kid'
'Who's this?' Murphy asked, nodding at Em.
'I'm his other kid.'
'Would there be a problem with walking over?' Clint asked.
'It'd be a tough hike,' Murphy said.
'We wouldn't stop you, though,' Baker explained. 'We just don't want cars trying to go up.'
'How is it on the other side?'
'A couple of slides,' Baker said.
'Probably nothing you wouldn't be able to climb over or walk around,' Murphy added.
'I guess we'll give it a try. Is it true that West L.A. got hit pretty hard?'
Baker shook her head. 'Not that much worse than over here.'
Murphy nodded. 'Moderately worse.'
'It's pretty bad everywhere,' Baker said.
'Pretty bad,' her partner agreed. 'But not catastrophic. mean, this isn't India.'
'Or Afghanistan.'
'Or Mexico City.'
'This is L.A.,' Baker said.
'We're ready for this sort of emergency.'
'That's right.'
'I'd be surprised,' Murphy said, 'if we have more than a few hundred dead.'
'Four or five hundred.'
'If that.'
'It'd probably be a hundred thousand, any place but L.A.’
'Well, California in general.'
'Right,' Baker said. 'I was speaking in terms of a quake of this magnitude happening in an undeveloped place.’
'India, for instance.’
'Afghanistan…’
'Major loss of life.'
Baker frowned as she nodded. 'Not that four or five hundred is anything to sneeze at.'
Em nudged Clint. She glanced past him. Turning his head to the left, he saw Mary step onto the curb half a block to the west.
'We'd better be on our way,' Clint interrupted the officers. 'Thanks for the help.'
Baker met his eyes. 'Hope everything turns out well for you, sir.'
'Thank you.'
'You, too,' she told Em.
'Thanks.'
'It'll be a tough hike,' Murphy pointed out, stop now and then. Don't over-exert yourselves.'
Mary, on the sidewalk now, noticed them and slowed her pace.
'Thanks again,' Clint said. 'So long, now.'