Quake (16 page)

    '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 the 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.'

    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.