Quake (17 page)

***

    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 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 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.’

    'Like the both of you weren't dying.'

    'She was sure heavy,' Pete said. 'Jeez, that was awful.’

    'I'm glad we did it, though,' Barbara said.

    'Yeah. Me, too. guess. Gross, though.'

    'Well,' Heather said, 'I figure you wasted maybe an hour, and all because you wouldn't let her stay in the alley.'

    'I don't think it was that long,' Barbara said. Then she wondered if Heather was wearing a watch. She didn't think so, but she wasn't sure. She twisted around for a look. But forgot all about wristwatches when she saw Heather leaning back against the pickup truck, legs stretched out straight, smiling at the cat by her right side as she stroked it with a gory hand.

    'Aw! Jesus H. Christ!'

    'What?' Pete asked.

    'Look at her!' Barbara dropped back against the tire as Pete leaned forward. He gazed past her.'Heather!'

    The girl raised her eyebrows and continued to pet the cat. 'She's a nice kitty.'

    'Have you lost your mind?' Pete blurted.

    Barbara scrambled to her feet. 'I'm getting out of here.'

    'Yeah,' Pete said. 'God almighty, Heather.'

    Barbara leaped over the girl's legs and hurried toward the alley.

    'You two sure freak out easy,' Heather said. She sounded amused.

    Clear of the car port, Barbara felt the sun pound down on her. She squinted, and looked both ways. Nobody seemed to be coming. Except for Pete. He hurried forward, hunching down slightly when he left the shade. In the car port, Heather was already standing. 'If you think I'm gonna stay here…'

    'We just don't want that cat around us,' Pete said.

    'It's a psycho,' Barbara repeated. 'It killed Mrs Klein.'

    'That doesn't mean she's a bad kitty.' Heather came out o the shadowy car port, the cat swaggering along beside her. 'She felt trapped, that's all. She was only trying to survive. You can't go blaming her for that.'

    'Just keep it away from us,' Pete said.

    He and Barbara started walking, but they continued to look back. Heather and Susie were gaining on them. 'Just stay back there,' Barbara said.

    'I don't want to.’

    'What do you want?’

    'The front.'

    'Okay, take the front.'

    As Heather and the cat approached, Barbara took Pete by the arm and guided him toward the other side of the alley.

    'It'd be funny if it weren't so sad,' Heather commented 'Scared of a nice little kitty.'

    Barbara wrinkled her nose when she saw all the blood on Heather. Not only was the girl's hand a mess, but the cat must've put a lot of effort into rubbing itself against her. There was blood on the side of her white sock and on her calf. The tan fabric of her baggy dress was smeared with blood on the side from her thigh almost to her armpit.

    'Look what it did to you,' Barbara said.

    Heather looked, and shrugged. 'I'm not any dirtier than you.'

    'Yes, you are. And I don't have blood all over me.'

    'You oughta wash that off,' Pete said as Heather walked by.

    'Doesn't matter. My dress is mined, anyhow.'

    'Maybe, but you don't want it on your hands all day.' He looked at Barbara. 'We need to find someplace where she can wash up.'

    'Won't be easy,' Barbara said.

    They'd both gotten blood on their hands carrying Mrs Klein into her house. Barbara had been frantic to get it off. It made her feel contaminated by the woman's death. She hated the rusty brown color and the tacky feel of the stuff.

    She had hurried to the kitchen sink and twisted a faucet handle, forgetting that the quake had knocked out the water pressure - her memory returning when the faucet was silent and nothing came out. 'What're we gonna do?' she'd gasped. 'I've gotta get this off me!'

    Pete had remained calm. 'Don't worry. We'll think of something.'

    After a discussion that included searching for pre-moistened towelettes (good luck finding any), using Pepsi (sticky) or water from the toilet tank (gross), they'd pounced on Pete's idea of dipping paper towels into water from melting ice in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. It had worked great.