Part 20 (1/2)

”What a strange kid.”

”He's-”

”I know. He's a great kid.” Mara turned to leave. ”I've got a few things to repair after the attack of Mr. Reilly's slugs, so I better get to it.”

”Mara, would you have some time later this evening?”

She stopped, her instincts told to her say no.

”I thought we could go visit Sarah Gamble, just to see how she's doing.”

”What would be the point of doing that?

”It's only six miles from here. Won't take long to get there.”

”She is someone I met in pa.s.sing on the plane. It's not like I really know her. Considering she's not even the same Sarah Gamble I met, makes me even less inclined to want to meet her.” Mara furrowed her brow. ”What are you up to? You have already made your point. I believe you, to some degree, I suppose. What more do you want?”

”Since you have met her, I thought you could provide some context on how different her counterpart is. I know you are reticent to get involved, but I feel it would be irresponsible to ignore the possible dangers that have been introduced to this realm by the Chronicle. I do want to make my life here, so I feel it is the prudent thing to do.”

”I suppose I owe you one for the lawyer and cleaning up my shop, but this is the last time. Afterward I want to focus on the shop, if for no other reason than to save my sanity.”

”I appreciate your willingness to help.”

”Give me a couple hours. Can we go at three o'clock?”

Mara stepped out of the pa.s.senger side of Ping's Camry into Sarah Gamble's driveway that sloped down to a two-car garage. Jeremy, her grandson, sat on the front door landing of the well-maintained ranch home, playing the same video game device he had had on the plane. Mara wondered if the boy had his own device or had somehow obtained the one that belonged to the Jeremy from this realm. This stuff messed with her head. Thank goodness there weren't any slugs in sight.

”Hi, Jeremy. Do you remember me from the flight to San Francisco a couple weeks ago? My name is Mara. I fixed your game on the plane?”

He did not look up from the game screen. ”No. I don't think we've met.”

”This is my friend, Mr. Ping.”

”Hi.”

”Is your grandmother around?”

”She's in the garage, putting up food for the winter.”

”Is she canning vegetables or dry storage?” Ping asked.

”Neither. Mr. Johnson from across the street.” The boy t.i.ttered.

”Could you let her know we are here and would like to speak with her?” Mara asked.

”Just go in that door there. You'll see her.” He pointed to a doorway next to the garage bay door.

They walked over, and Mara knocked.

A woman's voice responded. ”Yes?”

Ping opened the door and peeked in. A gray Jetta sat in one half of the garage while the other side remained empty. The lights were on, but they could not see anyone inside.

”Mrs. Gamble? It's Mara Lantern. We met on the flight to San Francisco a couple weeks ago?”

”Oh, yes, dear. You are the young lady who sat next to us on the flight. Come on in.”

They scanned every corner of the garage and could not see the woman, stepped farther inside, looked around again, and, then as a last resort, looked up.

There, hanging onto the rafters with one hand was Sarah Gamble, pulling what looked like gauze or cotton from her mouth with the other hand. Next to her, suspended by means not visible to Mara and Ping, hung a pale doughy middle-aged bald man wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. White gauzy material covered the bottom two-thirds of his body. A gauzy gag covered his mouth. Conscious, red faced and bug-eyed, the bound man looked to Mara as if he might be in the midst of a coronary event. Sarah leaned her face toward him, licked his chest from the right to left and slapped the gauze onto him. It adhered and tightened like an organic fuzzy shrink-wrap. The man made a pathetic, m.u.f.fled mewing sound.

Sarah released her grip and lightly dropped to the floor. She wore an odd tunic reminiscent of those worn by grocery store employees. It had a hole for the head, but it was open on the sides, with strings on the front and back panels tied together to keep it closed or close to the body.

”Mara, dear. How can I help you?” she asked. She leered at Ping, running her tongue across her lips.

”I...I...just wanted to see how you were doing.” Mara eased to her right, toward the door leading into the house, which was now closer than the one they had entered.

”How sweet of you. And you brought me a little Asian for dinner.” She grinned at Ping.

She extended her arms, stretching widely as if just getting up from a nap, uncurling her hands to reveal four-inch talons. She rolled her shoulders, and folds of skin, membranes stretched between her torso and arms, unfurled from the sides of her tunic. She flapped, whipped up a wind in the garage. Wings. She crouched and sprang at Ping, landing in a billowing cloud of dust.

”Ping!” Mara yelled.

Sarah Gamble swung around to face Mara. ”Where did he go?”

”I don't know.” She gazed up to the rafters. Ping dust diffused above them.

”Ping, you pull yourself together and get me out of this now.” Mara turned and ran into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Sarah followed.

Mara ran through a large kitchen, noticed a knife block on the counter and grabbed the biggest blade. She continued into a hallway. Looking over her shoulder, she did not see anyone pursuing, but she wasn't taking any chances. The hallway opened to a large living room, but momentum carried her past it.

Too late she realized the front exit was on the far side of the living room. She turned to go back, but Sarah now stood in the hallway blocking Mara's path. So she ducked into a large bedroom, slammed the door and locked it. She stood in a well-appointed master suite, a bedroom with a large closet, dressing area and bathroom.

”Mara, grab a toothbrush or a hairbrus.h.!.+” It sounded like Ping, yelling from somewhere down the hall.

”What? A toothbrush?” she yelled back through the door.

”Just do it now. Hurry.”

Crashes thundered through the house, shaking the walls. A high-pitched scream was cut off suddenly by the shattering of gla.s.s.

Mara ran into the bathroom, spotted an electric toothbrush and, feeling silly, pulled it from its recharging base. Returning to the door leading into the hall, she paused as a loud clatter rang out from the direction of the kitchen. What was she going to do with a toothbrush? She sucked in a deep breath, opened the door and launched herself into the hallway, toothbrush first.