So was the river.
My mind felt weak and dull. I was watching my nice, solid, normal world fragmenting about me.
'We're at the center of it, that's fairly certain.' Ann removed her shoes when we reached Fernwood. She ran faster without them.
We got halfway past the Channel 11 building when she doubled over and stopped, one hand against the paint- scrawled wall. She looked like someone who'd been kicked in the guts.
'What's wrong?'
'Cramps.' She clenched her teeth. 'Worst I've ever had.'
'From the running?' I reached out to support her.
She only groaned and bent further over.
Picking her up before she tumbled to the sidewalk, I held her to me as best I could. I'd handled drunks and saps and stiffs in my time but never a sick dame. I wasn't too sure what to do.
'Get to Hollywood,' she murmured. 'Let's get-' She spasmed in agony.
I lifted her up to carry in my arms. She clung to my neck gratefully. Her legs bounced up and down with each step I took.
We crossed Sunset that way. I doglegged over to Bronson and headed up toward Hollywood Boulevard. That same chill ran up and down my flesh. Ann shuddered.
The hazy L.A. sky dimmed. Dark clouds billowed up overhead, the color of clots and scabs.
Ann's jaw clamped her teeth together with grinding pressure. The pain pulled her into a fetal position. 'Dell,' she whimpered.
A gash tore across the cloud bank. My skin felt cold and clammy against my clothes as I watched. Ruby droplets fell in bands and sheets like a monochrome borealis. They seemed to drift slowly toward the ground.
I stopped to gape, hypnotized.
With sudden intensity, the blood hit the sidewalk and streets. Thick slapping sounds like spilling porridge drowned out the roar of cars and commerce.
All around us a vermilion haze hung like a curtain. Clothes stuck to skin. Ann's long blond hair fell in fat, dripping ropes to pull her head backward. I draped a handful over my arm. Brakes squealed somewhere in the bloody rain. Metal screamed. Glass shattered.
People cried out.
I ran toward an apartment complex on the left. Heavily overgrown with tropical plants in the finest Southern California tradition, it beckoned with the promise of protection from the storm. I splashed toward the courtyard.
It was as if we'd entered another climate. One with sane weather.
The ground was dry. Overhead, blue sky-as blue as it can get in L.A.-spread from horizon to zenith. The street was dry and clear. Only the people acted strangely. They covered their heads, huddled in doorways, looked fearfully at the sky.
They still saw it. Some of them. Once again the illusion seemed to affect only a portion of the population.
I lowered Ann to the driveway and took a step out onto Bronson. In the space of that step I left clear skies and dryness for buckets of blood drenching the earth from heavy black clouds.
I was soaked to the bone. I took one step back. The day returned to normal L.A. autumn.
Ann stood slowly. 'My cramps are gone.' She fussed with her hair. Perspiration damped it a bit, but it flowed golden and free as though never touched by the blood outside.
She ventured a step past the property line, grabbed at her waist, and stumbled backwards to safety.
'It's like the corpse grinders out there, yet we're fine here.'
