She stopped in midstride.
Four cats were crouched on the cot, over Charlie where she lay tied up. All four were busily chewing at the ropes-like some strange, impossible fairy tale. Chewing at Charlie’s bonds just as, not long ago, Kit had chewed at similar bindings to release a younger hostage, freeing twelve-year-old Lori Reed when she had been kidnapped. Wilma watched, not knowing whether to laugh with delight or weep at the cats’ bold kindness. It had not been easy for these wild little cats to come in here, to put themselves so close to humans-but now, the minute the light flicked on, the three feral cats froze, staring up at her with eerie reflective eyes. And they were gone, dropping soundlessly from the bed and melting into the shadows.
She supposed they vanished out the door, though she saw and heard nothing. Only Kit remained on the cot, diligently chewing at Charlie’s ropes and glancing sideways up at Wilma, her golden eyes caught in the light, her tortoiseshell fur dark against Charlie’s red hair. Then Dulcie leaped from Wilma’s shoulder to help.
Quickly, Wilma removed the dirty bandanna from around Charlie’s mouth, and began to work on the half-chewed ropes, jerking them apart where the ferals had chewed almost through them. It was the look on Charlie’s face that made Wilma laugh, a look of terrible wonder and disbelief.
Charlie struggled up as Kit chewed through the rope that bound her hands. Wilma jerked the last rope off, and Charlie swung off the bed-and they ran, Charlie and Wilma, Dulcie and Kit, up across the ruins. “Where can we hide?” Wilma said. “Where are…?”
The roar of the returning Jeep barreling down the road silenced her. They stopped and turned, heard it pull up close to the trailer, Cage swearing.
“We still have the niece,” Eddie said, “and the aunt’ll come back for her. She’ll do whatever we say when she knows we have her precious niece.”
“This way,” Kit hissed, and the little cat ran, slipping past the Jeep in blackness, Charlie and Wilma stumbling behind her.
“We can’t see you,” Charlie whispered. But Kit mewled softly, then mewled again. Cage was still swearing as Kit led them away between dark and fallen walls, up four steps and into the kitchen of the ruined house, then through the kitchen and the living room, tripping over rotting furniture. “The captain,” Dulcie said, “has men down there, six units parked along the road. We can just…”
But the Jeep had pulled around the house, they heard it skid to a stop before the broken front door; they had time only to duck behind the tumbled furniture, into the deepest shadows.
“Damn women,” Cage growled, slamming the door of the Jeep. “How the hell…You take the first floor, I’ll look upstairs. How the hell did Violet get the keys to the wagon! You gave ’em to her, Eddie! I told you-”
“I never!”
“Don’t lie to me! Violet cut her loose and took the damn car keys. Why the hell did you…?”
“She wouldn’t dare, and she didn’t know where them keys were. Even if she did, she ain’t got the balls to take them.”
“You shoulda beat her before we left there the first time, made sure she couldn’t run. Come on…”
“They wouldn’t hide in here, right in the house. There’s basements and things.”
“Them black, caving-in cellars? Not Violet. Scared of spiders, scared of the dark. And where the hell’s the station wagon? You think they went on down the hills?”
“Told you, car was damn near out of gas. Running on fumes. Told you I was out of canned gas. No, they hid the wagon somewhere; could be anywhere in this mess.” The other car door slammed, and their footsteps crunched across stones, the twin beams of their torches flashing up the steps and across the porch, then blazing straight in through the front door and across the tangles of fallen furniture.
Cage stood in the doorway looking in, seeming, in the flashlight’s reflection, as big as a giant. “You go find the station wagon. I’ll take care of this bunch. Still don’t know why you left the keys in it. If you can’t find it, look for tracks, try to make yourself useful.”
“Told you I didn’t leave the keys in it!” Eddie stood on the porch behind Cage, shining his light back into the ruins as if hoping the station wagon would miraculously appear and he wouldn’t have to go searching for it in the dark.
“You didn’t leave them in it, then you gave ’ em to Violet! Or you told her where they were. I swear, sometimes-”
“There,” Eddie shouted, jumping off the porch, swinging his light and running.
Cage turned and looked. “What the hell!” then took off after Eddie. When they were gone, Wilma rose and went to the window, stood watching them.
“They found it,” she said as Charlie joined her. They could see the men’s two lights shining down the embankment, could hear their voices clearly in the still night. Eddie began to laugh. “Guess that did ’em.”
“What the hell?” Cage’s torchlight shining down silhouetted his tall bulk. “What you mean, that did ’em? Ain’t nobody in the damn wagon. Damn women got out.” As he turned, staring back toward the house, Wilma grabbed Charlie’s hand, ready to go out the back.
But Charlie pulled away and moved to the front door, staring into the night.
“Come on!” Wilma said, grabbing her. “Before they come back.” Outside, at the wreck, the men were quiet for a moment, as if looking over the damage to the old car. When Wilma tried to pull Charlie with her, Charlie jerked away roughly.
“What?” Wilma snapped.
“Look,” Charlie said softly, slipping out onto the porch. “Watch, maybe half a mile back along the tree line-where the trees part. Watch the little dip, with the sky a shade lighter behind it. Watch right there, something’s coming, I saw movement farther back…” She gripped Wilma’s hand. “Horses. Horses on the trail…Max…”
Wilma could not hear horses. This was Charlie’s wishful thinking. She had dropped Charlie’s hand and was starting to turn away when…
“There,” Charlie hissed. “There, see!”
Wilma glimpsed something moving past the little dip, then it was gone. Two riders, making for the ruins.
Terror filled Charlie’s voice. “Cage has a handgun, and there’s a shotgun in the Jeep. If he hears them…” She pulled Wilma through the front door and down the steps. “Go! Go down to Max’s men, tell them to come fast, on foot, and quietly…”
“But you can’t…”
“Go!” Charlie snapped. “Take the cats!” She snatched up Kit and shoved her at Wilma. “Go with her, both of you!” And she moved away through the blackness, toward the Jeep. Wilma wanted to drag her back, but knew she could make things worse by charging after her and alerting Cage. She could only go for help, as fast as she could go, down through the rubble and the dark road.
27
“D amn bitch!” Cage hissed, staring down the cliff. “How the hell did she get loose! That bitch Violet. Why the hell did you give her the keys! She cut that bitch loose and now she’s wrecked the wagon! Look at it! And both of ’em gone!”
“I didn’t give her no keys, I told you! Maybe they hot-wired the car.”
“That’s sure as hell lame! Violet couldn’t hot-wire nothing, she hardly knows which end of a hammer to use! What’d you do, have extra keys made? I thought I could trust you!” He looked so hard at Eddie Sears that Eddie took a step back.
“I swear, I never had no keys made. I never drove the car, it’s your car…I thought you planned a few more heists and then would dump it…I swear, Cage…”
“If you never drive it, how’d it run out of gas? Where’d you drive it to? What else have you been lying about?”
Eddie’s voice shook. “I swear, Cage, I never. You drove it two weeks ago. If I’d used it, you know I’d of put gas in!”