Pestilence

35

The car slowed down on a residential street in Van Nuys. The homes were immaculate, and from the cars in the driveways, Katherine could tell this was an affluent neighborhood. A white house with a sports car and an SUV in the driveway came into view on the right, and Ian instructed her to stop there.

“He’s asleep,” she said. “They probably have an alarm, too.”

“Who’s the alarm going to call?” He grinned, took the keys out of the ignition, and put them in his pocket. “Stay here. You’re doing really well, Katherine. This will all be over soon.”

Ian got out of the car, and she watched as he walked around the house, checking the windows. He was limping, and she realized he had hurt himself during the accident, too, but he didn’t let it bother him. He disappeared around the back. She glanced around the neighborhood. She wasn’t aware of the time, other than it was well after midnight, and the clock on the dash was blinking 12:00. The neighborhood seemed darker than any she had ever been in. Not a single light was on in any house. She opened the door and felt the warmth of the night. She debated no more than a few seconds, and then she ran down the street as fast as she could.

The sidewalk was clean, and running wasn’t difficult, except for the fact that she was still lightheaded from the pain medication in her system. But it wasn’t enough to affect her balance.

She was halfway down the block when she turned down a side street and then another and another. She was going to get lost and disappear in the maze of homes. One house had an open gate. Glancing around, she didn’t see a dog. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and then sat down. She hoped she could sit there until morning. If she had entered the house and sought the help of the people inside, Ian would see the lights on. She had to wait until morning and then hope she could get in touch with the police.

As she sat, she realized she was really hungry and thirsty. In the hospital, she was in shock and couldn’t think clearly enough to ask for something, and she regretted that right then.

She thought about her mother’s apple pie. Every last Sunday of the month, her mother made fresh apple pie with peach-apples, a type of apple mixed with a peach grown by a local farmer. They were a bit softer and sweeter than normal apples and had a tanginess she’d never tasted in anything else. Her mother made her pies with brown sugar and then scooped vanilla ice cream on top while the pie was still hot, and they would eat on the porch or in the backyard.

When her mother passed away from the brain tumor, Katherine had tried to make the pie for her two sisters, her brother, and her father, but it always turned out either too crisp or too soggy. No one enjoyed it, but Katherine wouldn’t stop making it. She got up early once a month to go to the farmer’s market for a batch of peach-apples and then started the pie from scratch.

Brakes squealed behind her. They weren’t loud, like someone was going fast and then had to quickly stop, but they built up in pitch, as if someone were going slowly and had rolled by in front of the house where she was hiding.

She didn’t move or even breathe. Keeping entirely still, she felt a tickling on her leg. Glancing down at her ankle, she saw a spider the size of a quarter resting on it.

Katherine put her hand over her mouth to make sure she didn’t scream. The spider crawled again, and instead of going over, it went up her leg. She bit down hard on her lip and closed her eyes. Squealing, she swatted at her ankle and then opened her eyes to see the spider was gone.

The car revved its engine and then drove away.

Katherine jumped to her feet and opened the gate. She didn’t see anyone. She sprinted to the middle of the road, but couldn’t see the car anymore. As she was about to run up to the house where she’d been hiding, she stopped. What exactly could they do for her? The phones had been cut off, and no police were available. Who would come and help her?

But at least she would be away from him. She walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. She got no answer at first, and so she rang the doorbell and then knocked again. A light went on inside the house, and then another. A middle-aged man in a black robe opened the door. Behind him, peeking out over his shoulder, was a beautiful blonde with large, fake breasts.

“Please,” Katherine said, “I’m in tr-”

The blood spattered on her face. She felt numb as the man’s corpse collapsed backward into his wife, who hadn’t even realized what had happened yet. Blood and gore was all over her nightgown and her chest, and as the body fell, she caught it and brought it down. When she saw the gaping hole in his head, she screamed.

“No!”

Katherine quietly took in the scene. It didn’t seem real to her, as if it were happening to someone else far away and she were only watching, like a waking dream. She turned, and Ian was in the street.

Katherine’s mind was reeling. In one moment of absolute, pure rage, she felt out of control. She ran out into the street and shouted, “You want to kill me? Then fucking kill me!”

He lifted his weapon, and she thought she was going to die. But she didn’t care. Right then, she was helping a man who was little more than an animal and was worried that God would judge her for it. She thought it better to die. She lifted her arms and closed her eyes, waiting for the bullet to tear into her. But it never came.

She opened her eyes as Ian slammed the butt of the gun against her jaw, knocking her out cold.