Quake

  They turned away from the police officers, walked to the rear of the patrol car, and began to stride quickly up the empty middle of Laurel Canyon Boulevard. 'This is slick,' Em said. 'What?'

  'No traffic. We've got the whole road to ourselves.' both looked back in time to see Mary arrive at the cops. Murphy glanced at her. She ignored him, and started to go up Laurel.

  She looked angry. She didn't wave.

  'Do you want to wait for her to catch up?' Clint asked.

  'Not particularly.'

  'Good,' Clint said.

  Grinning, Em waved at her. Mary scowled.

  ***

  'Here,' Stanley said, leading Ben toward a house the street and partway down the block from his own It was half collapsed, as if one side of it had been ripped by a monster. He hoped nobody was inside. He had thought about taking Ben into his own place. It was deserted except for Mother, so they would have plenty of time. 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.

  '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 the house at the other side of the porch had collapsed. 'This way,' Stanley said, heading for the wrecked area. 'where got in, last time.'

  With Ben close behind him, he waded in. He made his way toward the section of the house that stood. Stanley could see a shadowy carpet, a chair and a corner table.

  'This is it,' he said. He leaned into the doorway. A room. Off to one side, he could see through to a living room. Both rooms looked as if they'd been kicked apart tribe of lunatics. But the ceilings and walls appeared intact, and curtains hid whatever damage had been done to the windows.

  From where he stood, Stanley couldn't see the fireplace.

  'Hello!' he called into the gloom.

  No answer came.

  'Hello! Little girl? I'm back! went and got some help just like said 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 okay.'

  'Let's get this over with,' Ben said. 'I wanta get back to Sheila.'

  'Here we go.' Stanley stepped through the doorway. The floor creaked under his weight, but it felt fine. Holding the saw by the side of his right leg, he walked slowly around the side 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. Perfect.

  '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. won't. won't do anything okay? What do you want me to do? There isn't any kid.

  Nobody's trapped. It was just to get me here, right?’

  'Right.'

  'Okay. Fine.' Letting go of his bloody arm, he back with his left hand and pulled a billfold out of the 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. 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 mean. You didn't have to go nuts and 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. do. 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 Ben's skull. Ben's mouth flew open. Stanley pulled and kneed him under the chin. Ben fell against the floor, clutching his head with both hands. His was twisted with pain. He cried out, 'Are you mad. Why did you do that? My God! My God!''Shut up.'

  'You wanted it! You loved it! Look what you've done me!'

  'Yeah. And just look what I'm doing to you now.'

  He scurried around to Ben's side and slashed down 'No!' Ben blocked it, but the blade ripped his hands. He flung himself over. He tried to scurry away on knees, but Stanley drove a foot down on his back, pushing 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 the back underneath him.

  Shouldn't be liking it, he told himself. Not any of this.

  But he looks like a woman. From up here.

  But he isn't one.

  Yeah, but he isn't one. He's a guy.

  You wouldn't know it from up here. The hair. The 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 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.

  ***

  They walked slowly down the alley. Barbara knew that, if she turned around, she would still be able to see the 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 her. After all, they were the ones who had cleared away the heavy debris. If Mrs Klein hadn't been able to make it to her car window…

  We can't exactly call it our fault, we didn't rip her up, the cat did.

  Barbara was a few strides ahead of Pete and Heather, 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 quakes 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 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,'

  '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,'

  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. ‘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 mean? I'd be dead so how's it supposed to matter to me? I'd sure rather be raped when I'm dead than when I'm alive. It's no picnic, being 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 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 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 h
ome 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 dirty could a tire be? She crossed her legs, leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees. The top of her blouse was wide open, thanks to buttonholes. Her chest looked dark and shiny. Her bra had gotten smudged with dirt. The moisture from her made the cups a little transparent. She could see the color her skin through them, but her blouse wasn't open enough to let her nipples show. Pete had probably seen plenty. Nothing can do about it, she told herself. Not unless wear my blouse backwards, and that'd look pretty stupid. Pete hadn't exactly seemed to be overwhelmed by the view, anyway. Why should he be? Next to Heather, I've got nothing to look at. A couple of humps. I've got mounds and she's got mountains. And maybe Pete's got a few things on his mind that don't include what's on my chest or Heather's. We'll be lucky if we make it home, and maybe home won't even be there anymore. If his mind is on boobs, he must be nuts. Though my mind is on boobs. She laughed softly.

  'What?' Pete asked.

  'Nothing.' There was no point in trying to fasten the buttons; they would only pop open again. Besides, she rather liked how she looked and felt with the blouse open this way. 'The shade's nice,' she whispered.

  'If somebody comes,' Pete said, 'we'll sneak around in front of the pickup.'

  'I just don't want to stay here long. We'll never get home if we keep stopping.'

  'Should've thought of that,' Heather said, 'before you spent all that time with what's-her-face.'

  'Mrs Klein,' Pete said.

  'Yeah. Her.'

  'Let's not start in on her again,' Barbara said. 'Anyway, were all set to leave as soon as we got her into the house. Who made us sit around and drink her Pepsis.’