out of control as it was, and I couldn’t draw attention to myself. I couldn’t be anything more than another scavenger hauling away treasure.
Bodies passed under my eyes; Jeremy Balter, one of Robin’s brothers, Philip Moss, George Hsu, his wife and his oldest son, Juana Montoya, Rubin Quintanilla, Lidia Cruz… . Lidia was only eight years old. She had been raped, too.
I made it back through the gate. I didn’t break down.
I hadn’t seen Cory or my brothers in the carnage.
That didn’t mean they weren’t there, but I hadn’t seen them. They might be alive. Curtis might be alive. Where could I look for them?
The Talcotts had relatives living in Robledo, but I didn’t know where. Somewhere on the other side of River Street. I couldn’t look for them, though Curtis might have gone to them. Why hadn’t anyone else stayed to salvage what they could?
I circled the neighborhood, keeping the wall in sight, then made a greater circle. I saw no one— or at least no one I knew. I saw other street poor who stared at me.
Then because I didn’t know what else to do, I headed back toward my burned out garage on Meredith Street. I couldn’t call the police. All the phones I knew of were slag. No strangers would let me use their phone if they had phones, and I didn’t know anyone whom I could pay to call and trust to make the call. Most people would avoid me or be tempted to keep my money and never call. And anyway, if the police have ignored what’s been done to my neighborhood so far, if such a fire and so many corpses can be ignored, why should I go to them? What would they do? Arrest me? Take my cash as their fee? I wouldn’t be surprised. Best to stay clear of them.
But where was my family!
Someone called my name.
I turned around, my hand in my pocket, and saw Zahra Moss and Harry Balter— Richard Moss’s youngest wife and Robin Balter’s oldest brother.
They were an unlikely pair, but they were definitely together. They managed, without touching each other, to give the appearance of all but clinging together. Both were blood-spattered and ragged. I looked at Harry’s battered swollen face and remembered that Joanne had loved him— or thought she had— and that he wouldn’t marry her and go with her to Olivar because he believed what Dad believed about Olivar.
“Are you all right?” he asked me.
I nodded, remembering Robin. Did he know? Russell Dory, Robin, and Jeremy… . “They beat you up?” I asked, feeling stupid and awkward. I didn’t want to tell him his grandfather, brother, and sister were dead.
“I had to fight my way out last night. I was lucky they didn’t shoot me.” He swayed, looked around. “Let’s sit on the curb.”
Both Zahra and I looked around, made sure no one else was near by. We sat with Harry between us. I sat on my pillowcase of clothing. Zahra and Harry were fully dressed, in spite of their coating of blood and dirt, but they carried nothing. Did they have nothing, or had they left their things somewhere- perhaps with whatever was left of their families. And where was Zahra’s little girl Bibi? Did she know that Richard Moss was dead?
“Everyone’s dead,” Zahra whispered as though speaking into my thoughts. “Everyone. Those painted bastards killed them all!”
“No!” Harry shook his head. “We got out. There’ll be some others.” He sat with his face in his hands, and I wondered whether he was more hurt than I had thought. I wasn’t sharing any serious pain with him.
“Have either of you seen my brothers or Cory?” I asked.
“Dead,” Zahra whispered. “Like my Bibi. All dead.”
I jumped. “No! Not all of them. No! Did you see them?”
“I saw most of the Montoya family,” Harry said. He wasn’t talking to me as much as musing aloud. “We saw them last night. They said Juana was dead. The rest of them were going to walk to Glendale where their relatives live.”
“But— ” I began.
“And I saw Laticia Hsu. She had been stabbed 40 or 50 times.”
“But did you see my brothers?” I had to ask.
“They’re all dead, I told you,” Zahra said. “They got out, but the paints caught them and dragged them back and killed them. I saw. One of them had me down, and he… . I saw.”
She was being raped when she saw my family dragged back and killed? Was that what she meant?
Was it true?
“I went back this morning,” I said. “I didn’t see their bodies. Didn’t see any of them.” Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no… .
“I saw. Your mother. All of them. I saw.” Zahra hugged herself. “I didn’t want to see, but I saw.”
We all sat without talking. I don’t know how long we sat there. Now and then someone walked past us and looked at us, some dirty, ragged person with bundles. Cleaner people in little bunches rode past us on bikes. A group of three rode past on motorcycles, their electric hum and whine strange in the quiet street.
When I got up, the other two looked at me. For no reason except habit, I picked up my pillowcase. I don’t know what I meant to do with the things in it. It had occurred to me, though, that I should get back to my garage before someone else settled there. I wasn’t thinking very well. It was as though that garage was home now, and all I wanted in the world was to be there.
Harry got up and almost fell down again. He bent and threw up into the gutter. The sight of his throwing up grabbed at me, and I only just managed to look away in time to avoid joining him. He finished, spat, turned to face Zahra and me, and coughed.
“I feel like hell,” he said.
