Luis looked around and found he was in front of Mr. Choi’s grocery store; he shopped there occasionally and he knew the old man who owned it. Mr. Choi and his wife lived above the market. When Luis first moved to the neighborhood Mr. Choi had two sons who worked in the store with him. They were gone to college now and Mr. Choi used neighborhood kids in the store. He was a gruff old man, but his wife was as sweet as Mrs. Weatherby.
The store’s windows were gone like every other window nearby. Because the glass doors were smashed, Luis stepped through the frame. The store shelves were empty and many overturned. Luis walked toward the back, looking for a good place to hide. Only a few cans of beets were scattered on the floor—and Luis kicked at them, realizing there were some things not even looters would steal.
Gunfire sounded outside, closer now, and Luis hurried toward the back of the store. As he passed the last of the overturned shelves he saw a foot sticking out from under the case. He kicked it but got no reaction. It was a brown work shoe like so many others, except that it was small. Luis lifted the fallen shelf until be could see the face of the man underneath. It was Mr. Choi. He was on his back, his eyes wide open in a dead man’s stare. A pool of blood made a red halo around his head. Luis set the shelf back down gently. Mr. Choi had died trying to defend his store. Luis knew it was all Mr. Choi had— his livelihood, providing for his family and his children’s college education, Luis guessed if he were Mr. Choi he would have died trying to save it too. Then Luis remembered Mrs. Choi.
Luis forgot about the gunfire and found a stairway in the storeroom to the apartment above, which looked untouched. The television and VCR were still there, as were the Oriental trinkets and paintings that decorated the apartment. Luis searched quickly, afraid of what he would find in each room, but it was empty. Filled with relief, he sighed. Mrs. Choi could still be downstairs somewhere under one of the overturned shelves, but he didn’t have the heart to look for her.
More gunfire sounded, this time much closer. Luis dropped to the floor and kept his head down until he was sure he wasn’t the target. He crawled to the windowsill in the living room and stood slowly with his back firm against the wall and peeked out into the street. At first he saw nothing. Then he heard the pop pop pop of a handgun. Someone ran by below, him on the sidewalk wearing a red jacket. More firing sounded. This time Luis was sure it was rifle fire. Two more Zombies ran by and then men not wearing colors—the street was silent for a minute and then another figure, wearing a uniform arid carrying a rifle, ran up the sidewalk and crouched behind a car. He stood, leaning the rifle on the roof of the car, and fired up the street. From the distance Luis heard the pop of small arms fire. The soldier fired twice more and then another soldier ran past the first and up the street.
Luis pulled back and leaned against the wall. Elated and scared, he realized it had to be the National Guard taking back the streets. Soon Luis could stop worrying about Mrs. Weatherby—the Guard would make her move, or at least protect her. It also meant Luis would make it home to Melinda and the kids.
Mariel missed Luis. He had been gone only a short time and already she missed having someone to care for and someone to talk with. Luis would never take the place of Gertie or any of her friends from her early and middle years, but he was nice and so polite, not like most young men today. He was one of the few people in the building ever to visit her, and the only one to check in on her to see if she needed anything. She had been touched by his concern for her over the years, and now coming back for her like that made him someone special. That was something a son would do for a mother. Yes, Mariel would miss Luis.
The gunfire started a few minutes after Luis left. Mariel had heard it before, of course, but not this close and not this loud. She wasn’t really frightened by it, really just annoyed. All that racket would scare away the dinosaurs. Worse, it might keep the iguanodon from coming for his treat.
Finally, the sounds were so faint Mariel became hopeful that the meadow dinosaurs would return. But although she watched diligently, she could only spot fleeting movements in the grass; nothing she could identify. Then it happened again. Mariel looked down at her crocheting for a minute to check a stitch and then out the window to see the city was back. More distant this time, and shimmery and pale like some reflection in a pond. Leaning out her window, Mariel looked down. She could see the neat line where the meadow met the asphalt, but when she looked into the distance she saw the shimmering city. Mariel took off her glasses and cleaned them on her apron. When she put them back on the city was gone.
“Well I’ll be. I must get my prescription checked.” Mariel looked again to make sure and then decided it was time for a cup of the orange spice tea she’d found in the McGregors’ apartment when she was looking for sugar.
Luis listened as the gunfire slowly moved up the street and faded into the distance. He stood and peered out at the empty streets. Then gunfire sounded again up the street somewhere near his building. Luis thought again of Mrs. Weatherby, and how he’d eaten her eggs, and felt guilty.
He ducked down and crawled across the floor to the Choi’s kitchen. There was an old-fashioned white refrigerator against the wall, with rounded edges and a huge handle. He opened the refrigerator and felt a soft rush of cool air—not cold air, but cooler than the room temperature. The light was out of. course, but on a middle rack Luis found two cartons of eggs. One carton was full and one half full. Luis took the eggs and dug deeper into the shelves. He found a quart of orange juice, which he placed with the eggs. If he’d taken anything from downstairs he would have felt like a looter, but up here it was borrowing. He and the Chois hadn’t exactly been friends, but they were at least acquaintances.
In the cabinets he found two six-packs of juice boxes and canned fruit, including peaches and pineapple tidbits. In the last one he found an unopened ten-pound bag of sugar. He was loading a box when the sound of the shooting changed.
Now the burping of automatic weapons met his ears. Luis crawled to the window and inched up, peering out. The street was empty, but the sounds of battle were coming closer again. He watched the soldiers appear. They were retreating, running from cover to cover, spraying the streets with automatic fire from their M-16s. Then they were gone and the street was empty again. Luis waited, knowing what was to come. Soon a red-coated Zombie came into view, carrying a weapon whose rapid fire told Luis it was a machine gun. Another Zombie appeared, firing with a machine pistol. More automatic fire sounded. Still another Zombie shot up the far side of the street, and Luis could hear weapon fire surrounding the Chois’ store.
Luis shrank back, despairing. He knew the soldiers would be back eventually, armed to handle the Zombies, but it could take days.
As the gunfire faded into the distance again, Luis realized most of the Zombies and their allies were busy driving the Guard off of their turf. Figuring the odds, he decided now might be a good time to risk it. The box of groceries he had gathered for Mrs. Weatherby would make him look like a looter scurrying home with a few extra spoils. If anyone stopped him he could offer the food to buy passage.
The streets looked empty, but Luis could feel eyes on him. He didn’t mind as long as the eyes stayed in the buildings. Heading away from the gunfight, he kept a close watch on the barrier of cars between his building and that across the street. He couldn’t see anyone near the cars now. But coming down the street was a small group with two men wearing red. Luis turned to go the other way but spotted men in doorways a half a block off. They looked at him, and Luis felt panic. He had only one choice—to turn and walk between the cars and down the street to dinosaur land.
When the street ended abruptly and the meadow began, Luis hesitated. It was too unnatural, too surreal. The sound of voices behind him forced him forward. He carried his box around the corner of the building. Afraid to step on the meadow grass, he set the box down and peeked back around the corner. Three men were standing by the cars talking. When one of them pointed between the buildings where Luis had gon
e, Luis folded back around the corner, pressing his back against the wall.
He stood staring at the meadow and thought of the dinosaurs Mrs. Weatherby had described, How many were there, he wondered? What had she called the ones? Terrible killers.
He stood undecided. He had killers on all sides of him and wasn’t sure which were the most dangerous.
Now he peeked back around the corner. Six men stood by the cars now, seemingly content to wait Luis out. They’re afraid of the meadow, Luis realized. Afraid of the dinosaurs, just like me.
Looking back across the meadow, he saw something moving in the distance—something big, walking on all fours with a huge frilly spiked collar, moving parallel to the buildings. Soon it disappeared into the grass.
Luis quickly scanned the meadow looking for other dinosaurs. There were none, but in the distance he saw the faint, image of buildings. Hadn’t he stood in Mrs. Weatherby’s window, seeing similar buildings? Then, just as before, the shimmering image faded away. He shook his head in confusion. His cracked skull must have scrambled his brains. It was too much for Luis. He wanted out of there and could think of only one way to do it.
Luis dug the bag of sugar out of his box, walked to Mrs. Weatherby’s garden and then into the meadow—Luis walked gingerly, expecting the meadow grass to disappear like a mirage at any second. When he saw movement ahead he froze in his tracks—the tops of the grass were moving. Luis watched carefully, and when he was sure it was gone, he ripped open the top of the bag and poured a pile of sugar in the grass. Then he retreated quickly out of the meadow, poured another pile by Mrs. Weatherby’s garden and three more piles leading to the corner of the building. At the corner, with part of the bag still left, Luis sat down to wait.
Mariel rocked in her chair, occasionally sipping her tea. The meadow was still, and she made good progress on her crocheting, quickly finishing one square and starting another. Time passed pleasantly and soon a familiar figure appeared in the distance.
The iguanodon was coming straight toward her window, and it was time to get his treat ready. Mariel walked to the kitchen and measured out two sacks of sugar, reminding herself to search the rest of the apartments for more. Still, she had quite a supply now, brown sugar, powdered sugar, Karo syrup, and molasses, anything she thought might please a dinosaur’s sweet tooth.
Mariel took her bags back to the window to wait for the dinosaur’s “aaah” sound. She hadn’t been able to break him of the noise and had finally given up. It had been irritating at first, but now she thought it kind of cute—a big monster like the iguanodon singing for his supper. Mariel thought about that late-night show where people brought their dogs on TV to do stupid tricks. What would they think of the iguanodon and his “aaahing”? She chuckled to herself while she pictured the look on the host’s face when the iguanodon walked out onstage and chuckled again as she watched the dinosaur striding through the meadow. He would scare any audience to death. They wouldn’t know he was a gentle giant.
Mariel watched the iguanodon approach in his usual way until he neared the edge of the meadow. Suddenly he stopped and bent to sniff the meadow grasses^ Then he backed up and began eating something. It wasn’t grass, because when he ate grass he ripped it up and then stood to chew it, looking around. Then he did something strange again. The iguanodon sniffed the air and then turned away from Mariel’s window, stopping to eat something off the asphalt, Mariel leaned out the window and spotted Luis standing by the corner of the building. What was Luis doing here? Mariel wondered. Why wasn’t he home with his family? She pulled her head in, picked up her bags of sugar, and left the apartment.
Luis stood with his back to the wall, watching the dinosaur walk to the next sugar pile, which it devoured eagerly. From the window, Luis had been afraid of the dinosaur, but up close it was terrifying. Its head was massive, bigger than an elephant’s, and covered with thick leathery skin. Its mouth contained rows of huge teeth; its back legs were gigantic and its front legs thick and powerful. Worst of all its forelegs carried thumb spikes large enough to skewer a human being. Luis gained a new respect for Mrs. Weatherby.
When it finished the sugar it stared quizzically at Luis, who poured another pile by the corner of the building. When the dinosaur moved toward the new pile Luis ducked around the corner and walked toward the cars.
Mariel stepped out of the building by her garden just in time to see Luis disappear around the end of the building, the iguan-odon following him toward the corner. He shouldn’t be there, Mariel knew. That’s where all the horn blowing and some of the shooting came from. She hurried down the side of the building toward the iguanodon, who was busy eating something off of the ground at the corner. When he finished he lifted his head and sniffed the air. Mariel was afraid he was going to step into the alley, so she shouted to him.
“Wait, wait!”
The dinosaur turned its head and looked her over. Then he walked toward her, his head lowered. When he reached her his mouth opened and the “aahing” sound began. Mariel poured the first bag of sugar into his mouth and then waited while he went through his slurping and lip-licking routine. After the second bag, Mariel pushed on his jaw, told him to go back to the meadow, then left him and walked to the corner to find Luis.
Luis poured another pile of sugar halfway down the street and then walked up to the car barrier. The men behind the barrier—one wearing a red coat—were staring at him. Two of the men held pistols. One man spat something over the car he was leaning on and yelled at Luis.
“Whatcha doin, asshole?”
He wasn’t wearing a red jacket. Luis, while relieved, still ignored him and poured more sugar.
“I’m talking to you, asshole!”
Luis looked up slowly and feigned ignorance. “You talking to me? Oh, I’m feeding my pet dinosaur.”
The man came around the car and walked toward Luis, who could see a pistol in his belt. He leaned near Luis with an icy stare, and reached up, revealing a tattoo on the back of his hand—a shrunken head, the symbol of the Zombies. His voice was as cold as his stare.
“I don’t like smart ass assholes.”
Luis stepped forward holding out his bag of sugar.
“Really, I’m feeding my pet dinosaur. It’s sugar, see.”
He poured the sugar at the man’s feet, careful not to get it on the man’s shoes.
One of the Zombie’s friends suddenly yelled, “Hey, Barton. Ain’t ya gonna charge him the toll?”
Barton never took his eyes off of Luis. He merely rubbed his tattooed hand across his stomach just above the butt of his gun.
“Give me your wallet,” Barton ordered.
“I haven’t got one. Really, I was mugged yesterday.”
“You better have something, man, if you want to get out of here alive.” The Zombie pulled his gun, pointing it at Luis’s stomach and stepped closer.
“I’m telling you the truth, I haven’t got anything but this sugar.”
“Yeah, you told us. Your pet dinosaur and all that shit.” In a flash of lights and pain, the gun slammed into the lump on Luis’s head and he collapsed to the street. Even after his pain was gone, Luis continued to writhe, trying to convince Barton he couldn’t respond to threats. Then, someone behind the car hollered to Barton that something was coming down the alley.
When Mariel turned the corner she saw Luis at the end of the street, talking to some men by the cars. They looked dangerous, not like the kind of men Luis should be associating with. Mariel walked down the street, intending to get Luis back to his family where he belonged. She also wanted to ask him why he was feeding her iguanodon. Suddenly the man closest to Luis hit him, knocking him to the ground. Luis held the left side of his head, the same place he had been bit before. Mariel was angry now, angry and reckless. She strode down the street to help Luis and tell those men what she thought of them, with words she seldom used.
The men behind the cars saw her and shouted to the man leaning over Luis. The man who’d hit Luis looked up
and stared blankly at Mariel, irritating her. She wanted him to be afraid or ashamed, and she certainly didn’t want to be treated as if she weren’t even there. Her face flushed, and she set her jaw. This man needed a slap. Suddenly the man’s eyes went wide. Now he was afraid and Mariel felt satisfaction, until she saw he was looking past her. Then he turned and ran around behind the cars to where his friends were hiding. Mariel was puzzled. Now they were all pointing down the street and jabbering. Mariel turned to see what all the excitement was about and saw the iguanodon coming between the buildings, walking upright, taking long powerful strides.
Mariel remembered the men had guns and she turned to warn them not to fire.
“He won’t hurt you. I’ll take care of him. Let me send him back to his meadow.” Her words fell on deaf ears. The men were so terrified by the size and fearsome appearance of the iguanodon, they weren’t listening. Still, they held their fire.
Mariel knew the iguanodon was in danger, and she pushed out her arms trying to send him back. On he came, however, oblivious of the danger. As he approached Mariel he began to bend, coming slowly over and lowering his head until he was down on all fours just behind her. Still the men held their fire. Mariel stepped forward and pushed on the dinosaur’s jaw, telling him to go away. The dinosaur held its ground, then slowly the huge jaws opened to their full expanse. Mariel found herself staring in the iguanodon’s cavernous mouth as a deep rumbling began and out came a loud “aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” From the far end of the barrier a shot rang out. A hole appeared just behind the dinosaur’s jaw. His mouth snapped shut at the impact and he stared into Mariel’s eyes for a few heartbeats. Then he reared, rising to his full height and screaming at the same time. Every pistol behind the barrier fired and Mariel watched bloody holes pepper the thick skin of the iguanodon’s neck.
Footprints of Thunder Page 27