Faye gave Clara a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s from me and Mr. Plebney. You’ve been a very, very good girl. Now you have to be a good girl with Martin too. We’ll see you soon.”
Clara nodded shyly.
Marty held his hand out to Clara. “We’re going on a long walk, but I’ve got a problem. I hurt myself and I need someone to help me. Would you be my helper?”
She nodded and took his hand.
He squeezed her hand and let her lead him out again through the sideyard.
They found Buck pacing nervously out front, waiting for them. Buck flashed Clara his biggest, most winning smile.
“This is my friend Buck,” Marty said. “He’s going to walk with us.”
“So this is the beautiful princess I’ve heard so much about,” Buck said. “You are even more enchanting than I imagined, your highness.”
Buck did an elaborate bow. Clara didn’t say anything. She was obviously intimidated. Marty couldn’t really blame her.
“See those big shoulders? You know what they’re for?” Marty asked. “Giving beautiful, little princesses rides so they don’t get tired on long walks. Would you like him to give you a ride?”
She shook her head no. “You said you wanted me to help.”
“So I did,” Marty turned to Buck. “Sorry.”
Buck flashed his smile at Clara again. “Well, if you change your mind, your Highness, you just snap your fingers.”
The three of them walked in silence for an hour, working their way west on Ventura Boulevard as darkness fell. Marty was afraid to say anything to her for fear it would lead back to questions about her mother.
Silence was much safer.
Each step was more painful than the last, but feeling her tiny hand in his somehow made him feel stronger, that he could take on anything if that’s what it took to keep her safe. With just that touch, his own life took second place to hers.
Clara unknowingly emboldened him when they came to the inevitable moment when they had to cross the LA river again. He didn’t want to show any hesitancy or fear in front of her, so he simply hustled her across the overpass as quickly as he could without fainting from the pain.
If Buck sensed any of this, he kept quiet about it, but not silent. He whistled Disney tunes as they walked. Marty didn’t know if it made Clara feel better, but it helped him. He wished Buck had started whistling downtown instead of talking. The whole journey would have been a lot more pleasant.
The moon shone brightly over the frontier storefronts and wood-plank sidewalks of old town Calabasas, a collection of over-priced restaurants, antique stores, and real estate offices. The small street was designed to replicate the ambience of the stagecoach stop that existed there in the 1860s. Despite its genuine historical underpinnings, the street still looked like an abandoned movie set and, as it turned out, was about as sturdy. Against the quake, the buildings folded up flat like cardboard boxes. The wood planks of the sidewalk splintered violently, snapping with such force that torn boards were thrown into the trees, snagging in the branches.
But this wasn’t the real Calabasas, which was more appropriately symbolized a few blocks further west by a Mediterranean-style shopping center that boasted the world’s largest Rolex timepiece, mounted over a Ralph’s Supermarket that had its own full-time sushi chef.
They were so close to home now, Marty wondered if Beth would hear him if he screamed her name.
“We’re almost home,” Marty said excitedly.
Clara stopped. “You said you were taking me home.”
“I am,” he said.
“But I don’t live here.”
Marty looked at her and suddenly realized the terrible misunderstanding they had. They were so close to home, in a few minutes it wouldn’t have mattered. Why couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut?
“I’m taking you to my house,” he said as sweetly as he could.
“I want to go home,” Clara said, her little chin trembling, her lips drooping into a frown.
“I know you do. I’m sorry you misunderstood,” Marty said to Clara. “Your mommy asked me to take you to my house.”
“Why?” she cried.
He looked to Buck, who shrugged helplessly. This was Marty’s problem.
“Because she wants you to be safe,” Marty replied.
“I want to go home!” Clara jerked her hand away from his and marched off in a crying fury, stomping her feet.
Beth would know how to handle this better than he. She was great with kids. All he had to do was get Clara to go a few more blocks and it would all be over.
Marty turned and whispered to Buck. “Maybe you ought to grab her and carry her the rest of the way.”
“I don’t know how to carry a child,” Buck replied.
“You carry them like a bag of groceries.”
“So I hold her by the hair and swing her beside my leg?”
Marty was about to reply when he realized something. He didn’t hear Clara crying any more.
He didn’t hear her at all.
“Clara?”
Marty turned to see her standing absolutely still a few yards away, staring in horror at the tiger, a dead Labrador in its slavering jaws.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
N o.
At first, Marty thought he was hallucinating, then he remembered the circus banners along Ventura Boulevard, and knew this was real. The tiger must have escaped during the quake.
The big animal let out a low, rumbling growl, its eyes locked on Clara.
“Don’t move, Clara,” Marty whispered, “and don’t look into his eyes.”
Marty had no idea if that was going to help, but he had to tell her something to make her believe he knew what he has doing.
Buck took out his gun and whispered. “The kid is in the way.”
Marty nodded and moved slowly towards her.
The tiger didn’t like that, or he decided Clara looked tastier than what he already had. He dropped the dog carcass and growled again, exposing his moist, bloody teeth.
Marty saw that the dog’s throat was almost entirely ripped apart, its head barely attached by a few strings of torn flesh. And he couldn’t help thinking what those same jaws would do to Clara’s neck.
Clara whimpered and stepped back. The tiger advanced slowly, the muscles in his hind legs twitching.
Marty was too far away to reach her. There was only one thing he could do: Make the tiger come for him. It worked in Jaws 2 for Roy Scheider, who whacked an oar against a 6-million-volt electric line and got the shark to chomp on it. So Marty whacked his stick against the ground and prayed Buck was a good shot.
“Hey, tiger, look at me you ugly son-of-a-bitch.”
The tiger did, snarling.
“Yeah, that’s it, I’m the one you want,” Marty yelled, banging his stick and hobbling towards the animal. “Come and get me if you’ve got the guts.”
The tiger lowered his head and snarled, taking a slow step towards him and away from Clara.
Marty glanced at her and whispered. “Run Clara!”
She did and at the same instant, Marty roared and charged the animal. The tiger pounced. Marty dived to the
