'Okay,' Barbara said. 'Man.'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
'Come on, tell.'
'I never…: that was sure a kiss.'
'In what way?' she asked.
He rolled his eyes. 'I don't know!'
'Was it a good kiss?'
'Are you kidding?'
'Felt pretty good to me,' she said.
'It was incredible,' he whispered. 'You're incredible. I mean, God!'
'We'd better pretend nothing happened.'
'What do you mean?'
'Heather. She'd go nuts if she found out we kissed.' Pete looked surprised. 'Do you think so?'
'Oh, sure. She's got a thing for you.'
'She does?'
'Of course she does. And you know it.'
'Yeah, I guess so.' Then he added, 'I'm very hard to resist,' and laughed as if he thought it a good joke. 'You are.'
'Right.' He laughed again, and shook his head.
'So anyway, if we don't want to see what Heather's a jealous rage, we'd better cool it.'
'I guess that means no more kissing.'
'She'd probably pop up right when we're in the middle of one.'
'Yeah. Like on TV.'
'We'll have to just save it for some other time,' Barbara said.
'Any time is fine with me.'
'I'll bet.'
'So… what should we do now?'
'Swim around?'
Pete looked toward the front gate. His smile slipped 'I wonder what's taking her so long.'
'She must be having trouble with the cat.'
'It's probably not extremely eager to get caught,' Pete said 'No kidding. Cats hate water. One sinking was probably enough for it.'
After a moment, Pete said, 'I hope nothing's happened her. She has been gone an awfully long time. I mean,'
'If she couldn't catch the cat, don't you think she'd come back?'
'I don't know. She seems like the stubborn type.’
'Something really might have happened to her, though.'
'Do you think we should go and look for her?' Barbara asked.
'I don't much want to.'
'Me, neither. Besides, we said we'd wait here. What if shows up while we're gone?'
'Can't let that happen.'
Barbara raised her eyebrows. 'Of course, one of us could go looking for her while the other stays here.'
'I'm not sure that's such a good idea,' Pete said.
'It's a rotten idea.'
He suddenly smiled again. 'It was your idea.'
'Figured somebody oughta bring it up. Doesn't mean I'm in favor of it. I'm totally against splitting up.'
'It'd be stupid to split up.'
'Exactly. Asking for trouble. Besides, she'll probably get back any minute.'
'If we're lucky, without the cat.'
Barbara laughed. 'Exactly.'
Pete boosted himself up and sat on the edge of the pool. Barbara, floating on her back near the other end, flipped over and swam to him. She stood up in the waist-high water and checked her blouse. It was unbuttoned and clinging and open a few inches. Just wide enough. Not so wide that it showed enough to be embarrassing. She put her hands on Pete's knees. 'What do you think?' she asked.
'I don't like it.’
'I don't, either.’
'Where could she be?'
'We can't just stay here all day,' Barbara said.
'It hasn't been all that long.'
'Long enough. Between this and all the time we spent… you know, at Mrs Klein's… we could've been home by now.’
'I've sort of liked it here,' Pete said.
'Me, too. I feel about a million times better than I did.’
'That's what kissing me will do for you.'
She let out a laugh. 'Yeah, right. That wasn't bad, either.’
She squeezed his knees, gave them a playful shake that jostled the water between his legs, then let go and moved sideways. She stepped forward to the wall of the pool. Aware of Pete watching, she planted her hands on the concrete near his hip, and jumped. She braced herself up beside him, arms stiff, the edge of the pool hard against her thighs. Then she stayed that way - because of how Pete was trying not to stare at her. She didn't look down at herself. Didn't need to. Just by the feel, she knew that her arms, in tight against her sides, were pushing her breasts together and thrusting them forward. She took a deep breath. The smoky air made her lungs hurt, but she filled them anyway, expanding her chest to improve the view even more. Pete turned his head away.
'I think we'd better go and find Heather,' Barbara said just to make him look at her. It worked. Pete faced her again. He met her eyes and nodded. 'Yeah. Guess we'd better.' He glanced down, began to turn away, then looked again and stared for a few moments before forcing his gaze away and studying the other end of the pool. Barbara smiled. She swung a leg up, slapped a bare foot onto the ledge, and climbed out of the pool. She stood up straight, her legs apart. Water raced down her body and spilled off her clothes, splashing the concrete between her feet. Must look like I'm peeing, she thought. So she took a few steps away from the pool. After turning around, she pressed her legs together. Pete was already walking toward her. His soaked trousers dripped water. They were glued to his legs. Their front bulged, shoved outward by the knobs of Pete's fists which were jammed into the front pockets. Why the fists? Barbara wondered. She felt a quick stir of worry.
'You okay?' she asked.
'What do you mean?'
'Planning to punch me out?'
'Huh?' He looked confused. Then he blushed and glanced down at the front of his pants. 'Oh, that. Nah. I wouldn't hit you. Are you kidding?' He smiled nervously and shook head. But his fists remained in his pockets.
'Planning to punch out somebody else?'
'I'm not gonna slug anyone. just…, it's nothing, okay?
You want me to bring over your shoes and stuff?'
'We can both go,' Barbara said.
Pete turned away. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he walked toward the corner of the pool. Barbara followed him past the corner, and along the side. His back was tanned and shiny. He left trails of water drops. Halfway to the other end of the pool, Barbara looked into the water. She could see where the bottom began to slope downward. That's where we were standing. That's where we kissed. She wondered if she would be able to find this apartment complex again - this pool. It'd be nice to come back with him some time, she thought. What if we got married some day and came back to right here in this building? And we could sneak into the pool late at night when everyone else was asleep, and go to our special place right there…? Wild, she thought. It'll probably never happen. But it might. It might, if want it to badly enough. Dad says you can make almost anything happen if you're willing to go for it. This is a stupid time to even be thinking about stuff that, she told herself.
No, it's not. As good a time as any… Pete sat down on the concrete to put on his socks and shoes. Barbara sat nearby, but facing him. The concrete felt warm and rather nice through the wet seat of her shorts. She used one of her socks to wipe her feet.
'Maybe we can go somewhere,' Pete said, tying one of his Reeboks.
'Like where?'
'I don't know. Anywhere. How about the beach?'
'Are you crazy?'
'What do you mean?' Pete asked.
'The beach? I've gotta get home. And anyway, the beach is miles…'
'Not today,' Pete said. 'Jeez! That would be crazy. I meant like, you know, after all this is over.'
'Oh!'
'What do you think?'
He's asking me out.
'Yeah!' she blurted, and saw his face light up.
'Great! That's great!'
'I'm not sure about the beach, though. We'd have to figure out something that'll be okay with my Mom and Dad.'If I'll still have a Morn and Dad. Of course I will. Sure I will. They're fine. They have to be.
'They might have to go along, or something,' she said.
'De
pending on what we wanta do. They're awfully protective.’
'That's okay. don't mind.'
'Maybe you could come over to my place,' she suggested. 'You know, for starters. They'd go along with that. As long as one of them is home.'
'That'd be great,' Pete said. 'I don't care where we…'
A clamor of iron stopped his words. They snapped their heads sideways. The front gate, flung open by Heather, squawled on its hinges and rang out as it crashed against the fence bars. Barbara cringed at the noise.
She heard Pete mutter, 'Oh, man.'
Something was wrong. Huffing and red-faced and streaming sweat, Heather ran toward them with her head thrown back, her mouth sagging, her arms swinging about wildly, her breasts jumping up and down as if trying to rip free of her clothes, her feet pounding down flat so that the soles of her shoes made heavy whapping sounds with each stride. She was still bloody from the cat. The cat didn't seem to be with her, though. Maybe it's chasing her, Barbara thought. Something must be chasing her. But nothing followed Heather through the gate. It clanged shut as she chugged alongside the pool, hurrying toward Barbara and Pete. They finished with their shoes. Pete grabbed his shirt and started to get up. Barbara reached for the denim strap of her purse. She looked again at Heather. No purse. It had been hanging from Heather's shoulder when she left to go chasing after Susie, but now it was gone. Does she know she lost it? Maybe it got snatched, and that's why she's acting so weird and scared. The kid who snatched mine is dead. Maybe his ghost…, yeah, right. Pete and Barbara were on their feet by the time Heather staggered to a halt by the corner of the pool. Wheezing, she bent over and clutched her knees. She shook her head.
'Gotta get… outa here,' she gasped. 'They're coming.' Barbara felt a sudden, sinking coldness inside.
'Who's coming?' Pete asked. 'What do you mean?'
'Guys. Whole bunch of 'em. Like a gang. saw 'em… pulled people outa cars… Killed 'em… Can't let 'em get us… Can't… If they get us… Gotta hide.'
'Where are they?' Pete asked.
Still bent over, she let go of one knee and raised her arm. She flopped her hand in the direction of the front gate, then clutched her knee again. 'How far away?'
'Don't know. Couple blocks?'
'Are they coming this way?'
'Yeah.'
'Did they see you?' Barbara asked.
'Chased me.'
'Oh, my God,' Barbara said.
'Just two… came after me. Think lost 'em.' Heather stood up straight. Still gasping for air, she wiped her face on a sleeve. Then she looked toward the gate. 'Lost 'em a few minutes ago. Over on… a different street. Hid. Circled around. But the main bunch is coming. Just saw 'em.'
'From right out in front?' Pete asked.
'Yeah.'
'Did they see you come in here?' Barbara asked.
'Don't know. Don't think so, but… Maybe. We gotta hide. Gotta hide quick.'
Barbara met Pete's eyes. He looked scared. 'Go for the alley?' she asked.
'No!' Heather blurted. 'They'll get us. I can't run. Can't. But I… figured it out. We can hide here. All we do is… get in a door…, they'll never find us.'
'Break into an apartment?' Pete asked.
'Yeah! Yeah, it's perfect. They won't… know where to look for us.'
They'll know if they spot a busted door, 'Upstairs,' Pete said. 'We'll try upstairs.'
Pete in the lead, they ran to the nearest stairway. He rushed up the stairs, taking three at a time. Barbara took two at a time. Heather grunted and wheezed behind her. At the top, Pete raced along the balcony and stopped at first door. He grabbed its knob, twisted it and shoved it.
'Nobody's gonna leave their doors unlocked,' Barbara said. 'Should I bust it in?'
'No. Not this one. Keep going.'
We don't want to hide in the very first room at the top the stairs, she thought. Besides, maybe there would be a door that somebody hadn't bothered to lock. They hurried on to the door of the next apartment. Pete tried that one, shook his head, and kept going. Barbara followed him almost as far as the third door veered to the side and gazed over the railing. Nobody had entered the pool area yet. But she winced at the trails they had left on the concrete. Huge, dark splotches of wetness showed where they climbed out of the pool. A lot of water must've spilled there. Not so much where they had hurried along side of the pool; only a few traces of dampness remained show that trail. But plenty of water remained, undried, at the end where they had sat down to put on their shoes. From there, a weak trail of dribbles, barely noticeable from Barbara's position at the railing, led to the stairway they had used.
'They're gonna know we were here,' she said.
Pete lurched to the railing. He peered down. 'It's drying fast,' he said. 'In a couple of minutes, we oughta be okay.'
As if they'd both been struck by the same idea, Barbara and Pete suddenly turned their heads to see if they'd left a trail of water along the balcony. Just a few drops.
'We'll be okay if we can get inside,' Pete said.
'In here!'
Barbara's heart jumped. She saw Pete flinch, heard Heather gasp. She turned in time to see the door of the next apartment swing open wide. A man stepped out. He had a pistol, but it was pointed upward, not at them. He was young - probably not much older than twenty, stocky and muscular. His hair was so short that the pale skin of his scalp showed through. His face looked handsome, but grim, with bright blue eyes and a broad jaw. He wore a white T-shirt, tight blue jeans and combat boots of gleaming black leather.
'Get in here,' he said. He gestured them forward with his pistol.
Pete looked back at Barbara and Heather. He shrugged, then turned again to the man in the doorway. 'Uh… Do we have to? mean, what's going on? Are we supposed to be, like, your prisoners, or…?' He-shrugged again.
The man stared at Pete, eyes narrow.
After a moment, he said, 'You don't wanta see them ruined, you'd better get in here fast.'
***
On their way to the top of Laurel Canyon Boulevard, Clint and Em walked side by side up the middle of the road. Mary followed them at a distance. Sometimes, she gained on them when they stopped for a rest. But soon afterward, she would need to stop, herself, and they would leave her farther behind. They stepped right over a few minor cracks that ran across the pavement.
When they came to the first of those, Clint had said, 'Watch out. Step on a crack, break your mother's back.'
Em had stepped over it, then given Clint a puzzled look. 'What was that about my mother's back?'
'An expression. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back." You've never heard it before?'
'Not that way. It was "step on a crack, snap a fella's back.” ‘
'Bet your mom taught you that one.’
'You mean it doesn't go that way?’
'It's "break your mother's back." '
'I've been misled.' Grinning, Em had shaken her head. 'We used to chant it - Mom's version - and jump up and down on every crack we found.'
'I can't wait to meet your mother. I think I'll have to send you home in a taxi.'
'Oh, don't worry about her. She'll like you. How can she not, you know what mean? You may be a man, but…'
'Hey, there's no "may be" about that. Please!'
'Anyway, you're not a jerk like most guys.’
'Why, thank you. I'm honored.'
They'd crossed several more cracks during the next few minutes. Though nothing more was said about the expression, Clint noticed that Em avoided stepping on any of them. Higher up the hillside, they came upon a much larger break in the pavement. The jagged fissure crossed every lane road, but was never more than about two feet wide. Over to the right, several smaller cracks led away from it. Em, striding along by Clint's side, suddenly halted and said, 'Wait wait wait. Whoa.'
'What?'
'Look at that thing.'
'The crack? It's no big deal. We can step right over it.'
'I'm not so sure about that.
How deep is it?'
Clint walked closer to it. 'Be careful! Don't fall in.'
One more stride carried him near enough to see the bottom 'It's not even three feet deep.'
'Are you sure it doesn't drop down into some sort of abyss?'
'Positive.'
'Okay. I didn't think so. Not really. But, you know, they do in the movies. I've seen movies where the ground opens up and swallows people whole - and like the crack goes all the way down to the center of the Earth, or something. It is ludicrous. But one can't be too careful, if you know what mean. I've never been in a quake of this magnitude, so who knows what might happen? Have you heard about "liquefaction"? Now that's pretty scary. And it's real, too.
It's like the ground right under you can turn into quicksand? I've never seen that in the movies, though, have you?'
'I've seen quicksand in the movies,' Clint said, and crossed over the crack with one long stride.
'I mean liquefaction.'
Safe on the other side, he turned around and watched Em staring at the split. 'I haven't seen that in movies,' he said.
'Me, neither. I guess it's not as dramatic as falling into a bottomless chasm.'
'I don't know if liquefaction would swallow a person the way quicksand does,' Clint said. 'For that matter, I have my doubts that quicksand swallows people for real the way it does in movies.'
'You're probably right.' Em began to step toward the crack carefully, like someone walking on the frozen surface of a pond. 'The movies basically never get anything right, do they?'
'Mostly not.'
'I love 'em anyway, though.'
Clutching the grocery sack against his chest, Clint reached out his other arm. Em took hold of his hand. She clutched it tightly as she stepped across the gap. 'A cinch, right?'
'Right,' Em said. 'Thanks.' She let go, then turned around. She frowned down the road toward Mary, who was slogging her way slowly toward them. 'Maybe we oughta wait for her.'
'I don't see why,' Clint said. 'She might need a hand.'
'Tough tacos. She should've thought of that before she whacked you.'
'You aren't exactly brimming over with forgiveness, are you?'
'Nope. Come on, let's go.' They resumed walking. 'I'm fairly forgiving of mistakes,' he explained. 'Screw-ups, accidents, errors in judgment… People should pay attention to what they do and consider what the consequences might be, but everybody makes mistakes. Meanness is something else. There's no excuse for it. There's no excuse for the way she hit you.'
Quake Page 19
