Fatalis

Chapter Seventy-Six

The dead cats were all seven-footers and all males. Because there was nothing distinctive about them, Grand had suspected the leader was not among the dead. The police report from the museum seemed to confirm that. And the police lieutenant had said there were cats, plural. The Chumash painting showed twelve and only ten cats had been killed so far. That meant the leader had at least one lieutenant.

A quasi-military structure among animal predators. The leader, the general, remaining somewhere else and watching the fight. Participating only when he had to. Some pack dogs and insects like ants had that kind of organization. But for cats to be operating at this level was unprecedented.

Grand reached the ground level and ran across Wilshire. Lieutenant Mindar and three of his soldiers were close behind with Hannah and the Wall running after them. Squads of police were arriving now from Beverly Hills along with deputies from the West Hollywood District Sheriff's Station. They were sealing off the streets and setting up skirmish lines along several blocks on all sides of the tar pits and its surrounding buildings.

Several of them intercepted Hannah and the Wall and kept them from going through. Grand was happy about that, and ignored her shouts for him to get her through. He didn't want to have to worry about her. There was only one thing he wanted to focus on: saving the last of these creatures. He didn't know how, but there had to be a way.

The scientist ran past the Page Museum and then past the Los Angeles County Art Museum. The three-level, concrete parking garage was across the street from the art museum.

Grand saw police officers along the lighted sides on all levels, firing into them.

On all levels, he thought. There were more than two cats.

The men were firing into the center of each level, shouting instructions to one another and moving here and there to pin what were obviously very fast-moving creatures. There were columns and parked cars, which were obviously making it difficult for them to hit the creatures.

Grand arrived at the bottom level. Halfway across the garage a chain-link fence had been torn from the concrete wall and crumpled.

"What the hell was there?" Mindar asked.

"A blowpit," Grand said. "I should have thought of that."

"I don't understand-"

"The tar ebbs and flows through underground channels," Grand said. "When the pressure builds, the tar has to vent in a controlled place or it'll come through the street or basements."

"And this is one of those places," Mindar said.

Grand moved closer. The iron lid had been pushed off and the heavy bolts that held the fence to the wall had been ripped out He was angry at himself not only because he hadn't thought of the blowpits but because the cats always moved in divided, flanking patterns.

As Grand and Mindar reached the northwestern side of the garage they saw a police officer tending to two fallen comrades by the ticket booth, which was forty yards to the west. To the north, in the garage, two other officers were stalking a golden cat that was behind a vintage Wildcat convertible. Grand could just see the animal's forequarters. The cat was larger than the ones they'd seen, with high, powerful shoulders and a low-slung head. The nearest of its fangs was broken off toward the point.

The two officers were moving forward slowly. They were apparently looking to approach the cat from either side of the car.

They never got the chance.

The cat withdrew behind the car. The men continued forward. They were about three yards from the car and three feet apart. A moment later the cat jumped onto the roof and then launched itself onto the officer to the left. Man and cat hit the asphalt and then the saber-tooth twisted and bounded toward the other officer. As the officer turned to fire, the cat tilted its head sideways, the top toward Grand. It bit the officer through the back and his gun fired wild, the bullet ricocheting off the floor and striking one of the cone-shaped support columns. Dragging the howling man forward, the cat swept back toward the first officer. The saber-tooth reared up and landed on the grounded man, crushing his chest. Then it dropped the other man on top of him. The officer writhed for a moment and then was still. The action lasted less than five seconds.

Mindar was still holding his MPS. He raised it to fire but the saber-tooth did not remain where he was. Grand wasn't surprised. If lone predators killed something, they usually left quickly. Scavengers and other predators tended to respond quickly to the scent of blood.

The cat turned to its left and raced toward the low wall that stood between the garage and Ogden. Grand ran with it. The creature leaped the wall easily. With another bound it cleared the chain-link fence outside the garage by vaulting into an overhanging branch of an adjoining tree and then jumping to the street. As the cat landed. Grand looked up. Two other cats were jumping off the second level of the garage, which was fifteen feet from the ground. They landed cleanly on the other side of the fence. For the moment that they were under a streetlight, Grand saw that one of the saber-tooths was the same size as the cat from the ground level. The third was behind the other two and not all of it was visible. But what Grand could see was surprising. The cat towered over the others.

A moment later all three cats ran toward the ten-foot-high fence outside the art museum. The fence was made of thick, green metal bars with nothing to link them on top. If the saber-tooths didn't clear the bars they'd be impaled. Without breaking stride they gracefully leaped the fence and landed on the other side, in the Cantor Sculpture Garden West.

Mindar came up behind Grand. "It's like they've got goddamn wings!" he shouted as he raised his weapon. The metal slats were too close together to allow him to fire. Grand was already running back down Wilshire, alongside the fence, and Mindar ran after him.

The scientist looked to his left as he ran. The saber-tooths had become one with the darkness, maneuvering carefully through the life-size bronzes. They reached the Director's Roundtable Garden, slipped under and around the abstract by Calder, then pressed on to the outer rim of the tar pits. The surrounding fence was six feet high with metal mesh between dark iron bars.

Police were moving in on the east side of the fence. Suddenly, two of the cats leaped the fence in the rear. They raced across the dark lawn toward the museum itself. The third cat seemed to have disappeared. Mindar was looking ahead; Grand didn't think he noticed.

Grand suddenly stopped.

"What are you doing?" Mindar asked.

"There's something I want to check," Grand said. "You go ahead."

Mindar ran to join the police. Grand turned to the fence. He put both hands on top of one of the iron supports and swung his legs over the mesh. He landed on the other side, crouched, and looked around. He heard crashing glass in the distance.

That was probably the atrium, he thought. The saber-tooths may have been heading for the other pits and perhaps saw the familiar foliage. They'd have no idea what glass is. Or maybe the cats are being decoys again.

There were roars, gunfire, and shouts. They were followed by screams and more crashing glass. The police moved in en masse. Realizing that the wind was moving toward the east, he moved in that direction so his spoor would blow away from the pit There were life-size recreations of a family of mastodons on that side of the pit. One of them was "stuck" in the pit and moving slowly from side to side. Its huge tusks were upturned and its trunk was upraised and curled as though it was trumpeting in despair. Two other mastodons were standing on the shore, an adult and a baby.

Two years before-the last time Grand had been to the museum-this pit had been surrounded by small, thick palms. Now it was mostly sun-dried grass and open space, probably someone's idea of making the pit viewer-friendly. There were only two palms near the elephants, roughly twenty and forty feet tall. They had rough bark, like a pineapple.

Grand was still crouching. He got up slowly and walked behind the elephants. There was a rowboat on the shore tied to one of the trees. When the water levels were high enough at the pit, workers used it to fish soda cans and plastic water bottles from the tar. Grand stopped and untied the rope. It was a half-inch thick and about fifteen feet long. There were two oars in the rowboat. He tied the rope to the ends of the oars and draped it over his shoulder. Then he peeled off a large section of bark. All the while he peered into the darkness on the other side of the tar, watching for any sign of the saber-tooth that had stayed behind.

The smell of tar was strong as Grand moved around the edge of the pit. Puddles of water had collected in the center and around the edges of the tar, reflecting the streetlights. Small bubbles of tar popped just offshore while a larger bubble held its dome before bursting in what seemed like slow motion. As Grand rounded the mastodon, spotlights along the perimeter of the park itself began winking out briefly as something passed in front of them. It was large and moving toward him. He stopped beside the taller of the two trees and bent his knees so he'd be ready to move if it attacked. He began breaking the bark into smaller pieces and also used the action to focus his moat.

"They're in the atrium!" an officer yelled in the distance. "One of them's in the rafters. We need reinforcements now!"

The rafters were a design element, a network of metal struts that crisscrossed the top of the atrium. Police ran up the walk. Grand had known he wouldn't be able to save the other two saber-tooths. But if there was a chance to save this last one, he would.

As the saber-tooth neared Grand, it also came closer to the street. It began picking up hints of streetlight. This was indeed the leader of the pride, at least ten feet in length and just over five feet at the shoulder. Its fur appeared to be silver and there was a long, high ridge of hair running along its back. Like the other cats it held its head low. The saber-tooth also had thick, white whiskers that drooped beside its striated fangs.

The last time Grand faced one of the saber-tooths the cat had a companion. The scientist stole a quick look behind him, just to make sure there was nothing there.

They were alone. That was fitting for Grand, and maybe for the leader of the pride.

Grand turned back to the cat. It was about ten feet away and undistracted by the mastodons. Their unfamiliar odor and inanimacy obviously told him that they were not prey. He put his hands together and began crushing the pieces of bark. He needed to be the resolute hunter, but it was difficult. Grand was still a scientist. This was probably the largest cat that ever lived, a magnificent animal by any standard and something no living human had seen for thousands of years.

What was it thinking? he wondered. Was it confused, scared?

The cat certainly didn't show fear. Grand wondered if this pit had been his home, the saber-tooth's private feeding area. Perhaps the leader itself no longer hunted. Perhaps the other cats had gone to fetch prey for it. Offerings for the saber-tooth king.

The gunfire stopped. There was an eerie calm behind the pit. Then, in the distance Grand heard car engines starting, orders being shouted. A moment later the scientist saw a large police recovery van drive up on the walkway and stop between the flagpoles in front of the museum. Police medics ran out carrying stretchers and emergency medical kits. It wouldn't be long before Mindar, the police, or Hannah found him here.

The struggle was over and somehow the giant cat seemed to sense that. The saber-tooth stopped moving. Grand looked into the animal's dark, golden eyes. They seemed to lack the anger, the fire he'd seen in the eyes of the cat at the Juncal campsite.

The cat resumed creeping forward. Perhaps it wanted one last confrontation, to die in battle. Or simply to die. It was both sad and ironic that Grand and the saber-tooth both had the same thing in mind, the cat's survival, and that they have to fight one another to ensure it.

"I want to help you," Grand said softly.

The cat began to growl. There was something hollow, almost mournful in its cry. Grand finished crumbling the bark. His fist was filled with fine, spiky particles. If necessary he'd throw them in the cat's eyes, blind him and get behind him, use the rope and oars to create a tourniquet. Ancient peoples used to use them to tie people to sacrificial altars, twisting the sticks one around the other to make the bonds tighter. If he could get it around the cat's neck and tie it to one of the trees, he might be able to hold it there until it could be sedated-

Suddenly, police officers moved in from the west on foot. They were coming from the direction of the Ogden Street garage, which they'd probably just secured. The police were followed by a phalanx of squad cars, their red and blue roof lights flashing. Each officer was wearing a helmet and body armor and carrying a powerful Mini-14 rifle. Headlights and spotlights from the cars illuminated the street ahead and on both sides.

The northernmost car suddenly stopped. A moment later, so did the others. The squad leader of the foot patrol was in the front of the dozen-or-so officers. She called for the others to stop.

The car crept ahead. The rim of its spotlight had picked out the saber-tooth. As the car moved forward, more and more of the cat fell into the brilliant glow of the light. The saber-tooth's shaggy silver-white fur seemed to shine in the light. Grand, who was standing behind the palm tree and the mastodon replicas, was not visible to the police.

The saber-tooth turned and pawed at the light, roared at the intruders. The long, fierce cry was different from the one it had uttered moments before. This one made the water on the tar pit ripple.

"Shut off the light!" Grand yelled.

Through the two trees the scientist saw the police step back and lower their rifles. He couldn't hear what they were saying but he didn't have to. The rifles were aimed through the mesh of the fence.

Grand ran back along the curving side of the dark pit. "Dammit, don't shoot."

The squad leader saw the scientist. "Hold fire!" she shouted.

The saber-tooth roared again.

"The light!" Grand shouted. "Kill it!"

The leader told the drivers to shut off the spotlights but it was too late. The cat suddenly hunkered back on its haunches and leaped onto the plaster elephant in the tar pit. It landed on the elephant's sloping back, just beyond its head. The gray plaster cracked, revealing the mastodon's iron frame. The saber-tooth crouched again.

"Comin' at us!" the squad leader yelled. "Ready!"

The officers turned on the flashlights attached to the barrels of their rifles. The cat bellowed.

There was a wooden footbridge that crossed the southern end of the pit just before Wilshire Boulevard. The saber-tooth roared and launched itself toward the bridge.

The squad leader gave the order to fire. Over a half-dozen rifles spat at the animal.

"No!" Grand screamed.

The saber-tooth seemed to freeze as it jumped from the elephant. Spots of red appeared on its underbelly and then the giant toppled from the live-size statue. The cat landed with a dull splash on the side of the pit away from the shore. Ripples of tar rolled toward the sides as the cat's head came down near the hindquarters of the mastodon.

It would take a few minutes for the saber-tooth to sink. Dropping the particles of bark, Grand threw one of the oars up between the tusks of the mastodon. With a bit of maneuvering he was able to lock it between the upraised tusks. Grand waded into the tar and pulled himself out. Even here, with the tar just up to his shins, the suction was extraordinary. Grand climbed up to the elephant's head, slid down to its shoulders, and looked down at the cat. The silverback was lying on its side, struggling ferociously. Blood streamed across the surface of the tar. The more the cat pulled, the deeper it went, its hindquarters lowering first.

Grand removed the oar from the tusks. He untied the rope and made a noose, then held onto the exposed metal framework at the top. He tossed one oar back to shore and used the other to break open the side of the mastodon, exposing more of the support structure. Then he dropped the oar and climbed down the frame until his feet were in the tar. Hooking his arm around one of the struts, he held the rope and opened the noose to its fullest extent a little over a yard across. He lowered it toward the cat. If he could get the rope over the cat's head he felt he could maneuver it over the forelegs and secure the creature. Then they could secure the animal to the elephant and hopefully get a vet here to deal with the wounds.

Hannah and the Wall had gotten through the relaxed police barricade. They stood behind the police onshore.

The saber-tooth swatted at the rope, and then at Grand. The scientist ignored the raking paw as he struggled to work the rope closer. All he needed was to capture the head and one foreleg.

The animal howled and scratched its free left foreleg at the air. As the saber-tooth struggled, its hindquarters suddenly went under, momentarily pulling the cat upright As it stood there, Grand quickly tugged the noose from the pit and dropped it toward the cat. But the animal ducked and surged forward. It twisted so that it was facing the mastodon. Both forepaws were free of the pit though one of them was soaked with tar. The cat latched onto the frame and tried to pull itself up. The mastodon began to creak.

"Jim!" Hannah cried.

Using wire cutters, two police officers made a hole in the wire fence surrounding the tar pit. Hannah immediately shouldered around them and rushed through the opening. The Wall stayed protectively close to make sure she didn't wade into the tar to try and reach Grand. Back on Wilshire, a police emergency-services truck had arrived. The officers quickly unloaded a fifty-foot life line and life ring. They also took out a pole-mounted animal noose in case the cat needed to be restrained and a sixteen-foot extension ladder that was long enough to reach from the shore to the mastodon.

The cat was thrashing about the base of the elephant. Grand spoke to the saber-tooth as quietly as possible. But the noose, and his careful maneuvering of it, only seemed to infuriate the cat. Every time he came close to slipping it over the some part of the cat it would swat and howl and sink a little lower.

Grand knew the animal was lost.

The saber-tooth's enormous paws smacked at the plaster skin, forcing Grand to jump higher. The cat roared and threw itself at the frame, furiously trying to latch onto the metal with its front claws and submerged back claws. Any time the saber-tooth managed to get a hold, the tar refused to release it. And as the cat continued to struggle, the elephant began to list. The metal frame bent near the base and the upper struts started to fold inward, outward, and around.

Grand took a last look at the cat, which was hissing and rolling its head, trying to rise. There was nothing Grand could do.

The mastodon shuddered. Quickly reeling in the rope. Grand turned toward the shore and threw the tar-blackened lariat toward the smaller of the two palms. He lassoed one of the lower branches and jumped free of the elephant just as it collapsed. He pulled himself up the rope as he swung across the pit to keep from being caught in the tar. Grand remained on his feet as he reached the shore. Hannah ran over and put her arms around him. He looked back.

The cat clawed at the wreckage but wasn't able to pull itself free. The animal sunk to its forelegs, then to its shoulders. Its struggles slowed. Grand watched, helpless, as the police came in. Two men held the animal noose but it wasn't long enough to reach the saber-tooth; they didn't even try. The animal shook its head in a last, violent dispute with the tar. It tried to raise its forelegs but there was nothing for it to push from.

In a moment they would be gone again, this time forever.

It was a monstrous joke. He'd always blamed himself for not being with Rebecca when she died. Yet he was here when the cats died and he hadn't been able to save them. Not one. As Tumamait had told him after Rebecca's funeral, "Fate works inconsiderate of our needs and designs."

The police squad leader looked at Grand, who turned his back to the pit. The scientist hugged Hannah.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

The leader gave the order to fire. There was a short volley and then the slashing stopped.

Grand wept into Hannah's neck. She held him tightly.