cloth of his pajama pants. Gotta cut the bastards down, he thought as he jogged toward the house. The earlier wounds felt itchy, like mosquito bites. The new ones stung. Cold water would sure feel good on them. He saw the water spigot at the rear of the house, covering it or blocking it, nothing to climb over. The wall looked as if it had been battered away just below the roof, but the area beneath it was clear; the rubble must've all tumbled inward. Better take care of the gas first, he thought. What for? No fire, yet. Maybe there isn't even a leak. He hurried over to the spigot. The garden hose was still attached. He unscrewed the hose and let it fall, then twisted the handle. Instead of the normal gush, only a few drops of water fell from the spout. The disappointment clogged his throat.
'Stan?'
He almost cried out. The sound of his name felt like an icy spike being shoved into his belly. Cringing, he straightened up and turned toward the voice. Judy Wellman stood only a few yards away, at the edge of the patio. Nothing to worry about. Stanley hoped. Judy lived next door. She and her husband, Herb. They seemed like nice people. Though they usually kept to themselves, they always had cheerful, friendly things to say whenever Stanley happened to run into them. Last night, Stanley had seen Herb carry a suitcase out to the car. Judy had driven him away and returned an hour later without him. Which meant, to Stanley, that she had delivered him to LAX. He had flown somewhere, likely on a business trip. So Herb was out of the picture. This could be interesting. Stanley liked the looks of Judy. She was no Sheila Banner, of course. Nobody was in Sbeila's league. Still, she looked pretty good. Very good, in fact. Hard to believe she was old enough to have twins in college. Her tanned face had plenty of crinkles when she squinted or smiled, and a few threads of silver gleamed in her thick brown hair, but her body was trim. Though Stanley had never gone out of his way to spy on her, he'd seen her many times simply because she lived next door. He frequently saw her when she went out for the morning newspaper, when she went to her car, when she did yard work. He'd seen her last week wearing shorts and a bikini top while she hosed off her car in the driveway. This morning, she wore a faded blue shirt so large that Stanley figured it must belong to her husband. Its sleeves were rolled up her tawny forearms. The top couple of buttons were unfastened. The shirt wasn't tucked in. It hung so low that it nearly covered her cut-off jeans. Her brown leather boots, ankle-high, looked very big and clumsy at the ends of such slender legs. Had she been dressed this way when the quake hit? Maybe not. Maybe she'd been in her nightgown. If she'd changed clothes after the quake…
Stanley gazed past Judy. All he could see of her house was a rear portion of the side wall. The bedroom window was broken, but the wall appeared to be intact.
'Your house came through okay?' he asked.
She nodded. She looked very solemn. 'I'm awfully sorry about your mother, Stan.' She knows! He tried to hide his shock and fear behind a mask of sorrow. She can't know did it, he told himself. If she knew, she would hardly be giving me condolences.
'You saw her?' he asked.
'I came over to make sure everyone was all right. After saw how badly your house…' She shook her head. 'Anyway, the front door wasn't locked. knocked a few times, but…I hope you don't mind. don't normally go barging into people's homes.'
'No. It was very thoughtful of you.'
'I guess you'd already left. Actually, figured you were buried under the mess. You didn't answer when called out. looked around for a while. There wasn't any sign of you, so…'
'I went through the backyard to check on the Banners,' he explained. Even as he heard himself speak the words, he wondered why he was giving such information to Judy.
'Stan?'
He almost cried out. The sound of his name felt like an icy spike being shoved into his belly. Cringing, he straightened up and turned toward the voice. Judy Wellman stood only a few yards away, at the edge of the patio. Nothing to worry about. Stanley hoped. Judy lived next door. She and her husband, Herb. They seemed like nice people. Though they usually kept to themselves, they always had cheerful, friendly things to say whenever Stanley happened to run into them. Last night, Stanley had seen Herb carry a suitcase out to the car. Judy had driven him away and returned an hour later without him. Which meant, to Stanley, that she had delivered him to LAX. He had flown somewhere, likely on a business trip. So Herb was out of the picture. This could be interesting. Stanley liked the looks of Judy. She was no Sheila Banner, of course. Nobody was in Sbeila's league. Still, she looked pretty good. Very good, in fact. Hard to believe she was old enough to have twins in college. Her tanned face had plenty of crinkles when she squinted or smiled, and a few threads of silver gleamed in her thick brown hair, but her body was trim. Though Stanley had never gone out of his way to spy on her, he'd seen her many times simply because she lived next door. He frequently saw her when she went out for the morning newspaper, when she went to her car, when she did yard work. He'd seen her last week wearing shorts and a bikini top while she hosed off her car in the driveway. This morning, she wore a faded blue shirt so large that Stanley figured it must belong to her husband. Its sleeves were rolled up her tawny forearms. The top couple of buttons were unfastened. The shirt wasn't tucked in. It hung so low that it nearly covered her cut-off jeans. Her brown leather boots, ankle-high, looked very big and clumsy at the ends of such slender legs. Had she been dressed this way when the quake hit? Maybe not. Maybe she'd been in her nightgown. If she'd changed clothes after the quake…
Stanley gazed past Judy. All he could see of her house was a rear portion of the side wall. The bedroom window was broken, but the wall appeared to be intact.
'Your house came through okay?' he asked.
She nodded. She looked very solemn. 'I'm awfully sorry about your mother, Stan.' She knows! He tried to hide his shock and fear behind a mask of sorrow. She can't know did it, he told himself. If she knew, she would hardly be giving me condolences.
'You saw her?' he asked.
'I came over to make sure everyone was all right. After saw how badly your house…' She shook her head. 'Anyway, the front door wasn't locked. knocked a few times, but…I hope you don't mind. don't normally go barging into people's homes.'
'No. It was very thoughtful of you.'
'I guess you'd already left. Actually, figured you were buried under the mess. You didn't answer when called out. looked around for a while. There wasn't any sign of you, so…'
'I went through the backyard to check on the Banners,' he explained. Even as he heard himself speak the words, he wondered why he was giving such information to Judy.
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