‘Don’t do anything silly. Mommy,’ he grinned. ‘I shouldn’t like to have to waste your baby. She’s too pretty to die, don’t you think?’
Season stood where she was, shuddering, cold. ‘My God,’ she said, in a voice as splintered as pieces of broken mirror. ‘My God, if you hurt her—’
One of the angels snorted in amusement. ‘Kind of touching, hunh, Oxnard?’
‘Oh, very,’ said Oxnard. His face was white, much whiter than any of the others, and so the grime on his cheekbones where his motorcycle goggles had been was far more pronounced. ‘A really moving example of motherly love.’ Season stared at Sally in horror. The wide-open eyes, the same straight nose as Ed’s, the softness around the mouth that was hers. In her blue-check dress she looked as innocent and vulnerable a a baby bird.
‘Mommy,’ appealed Sally. ‘Mommy, he’s hurting me.’ Season looked at the Angel called Oxnard. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, in an intense whisper. ‘What is it you want?’
Oxnard kept on smiling. Another Angel, with frizzy hair and a faceful of red zits, started to mime the actions of playing a violin, and humming a sentimental tune. The others shuffled their feet and laughed.
Oxnard tugged his forearm a little closer under Sally’s chin. ‘What I want and what I need are two different things,’ he said, in that sly, smiling voice. ‘I need food. That’s what I need. You see, most of our friends have left LA, all lit out and left nothing. And there isn’t a single café or diner or hamburger stand left open in the whole festering city. So, I’m hungry; and so are my associates here, and we need food. That’s what we’ve come for, and that’s what we’ll be satisfied with. But… if you’re talking about what I want… that’s different. What I want is to shove seven inches of stiff intellectual pecker right down your gorgeous throat.’
Season stood rigid, the muscles in her cheeks pronounced, her thin fingers clenched into narrow fists.
‘My sister and her husband are outside,’ she said. ‘In a minute or two they’re going to miss me. They’re going to come looking, and what are you going to do then?’
Oxnard looked around at the rest of the Angels and then snorted. ‘You think we’re cowards? You think we’re scared of your sister and her husband?’
‘You’re cowardly enough to frighten a little girl,’ snapped Season.
‘Oh now, come along,’ said Oxnard, softly. ‘You know festering well why we’ve got your little girl. Nothing to do with cowardice. Just practicality, seeing as how every smug middle-class canyon dweller who’s afraid of being molested by real people has gotten himself a gun these days. And the best protection against the wild shooting of canyon dwellers is a child hostage, don’t you agree?’
Season said, ‘You’ll have to talk to my sister’s husband. He’s got the key to the freezer. If you want food, that’s where it is.’
Oxnard, still holding Sally tight against him, held out his free hand towards the Angel standing on his left. The Angel, unshaved, with the oddly flat face of a boxer, reached into his leather jacket and dragged out a huge black revolver. Oxnard took it, hefted it in his hand, and then pointed it directly at the top of Sally’s head.
‘Call him,’ he said. ‘Call your sister’s husband. Go ahead. And tell him that if he jumps, or rushes, or does anything sudden at all, then it’s going to be cortex omelette all round. You got me?’
Season stared at him, feeling as chilled as an ice queen. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked him. ‘You’re educated, aren’t you? Why?’
Oxnard grinned, ‘Education, as they always used to tell me, is nothing more than a tool for getting what you need out of life.’
He paused, and then he said, ‘And what you want.’ Season asked him, in a quivering voice: ‘You want me to do something for you? Would you let her go if I did that?’
‘Oho,’ laughed Oxnard. ‘Now we’re getting into it. Can I hear you actually offering?’
‘If it means you’ll let my daughter go, yes,’ said Season, simply. ‘Let her go, and make sure she doesn’t see what happens, and then you can do whatever you want.’
Oxnard looked down at the small girl he was pressing against his chest. ‘I need the food as well,’ he said, carefully. ‘Why don’t you call your sister’s husband first, and your sister, too.’
Season was silent for almost half a minute. Then she said, ‘That’s a deal, though, is it? Can I trust you that much?’ The Angels giggled, and Oxnard slowly shook his head. ‘You can’t trust me at all, honey buns. I’ve never made a commitment yet and I’m not about to make one now. But, sure, if that’s what you want to believe, then go right ahead and believe it. Now, call your sister’s festering husband, before I start to lose my patience. You don’t want to see this kitchen redecorated with the inside of your pretty little daughter’s head, do you?’
Season backed slowly across to the kitchen door. She didn’t take her eyes of Oxnard for one moment. She turned her head slightly, without turning her eyes, and called, ‘Carl! Carl!’
Carl and Vee came together. They could hear something was wrong but they didn’t know what, and by the time they walked into the kitchen it was too late to do anything about it. Carl looked around at the Angels lounging against his pine table, and his Neff oven, and his red custom-enamel sink unit, and said, ‘What the hell do you animals think you’re doing?’
Oxnard carefully and deliberately cocked his revolver. ‘You just watch who you’re calling an animal, you half-assed canyon dweller. I’ve already explained to Mommy here what it is we need, and what it is we want, and I think we’re pretty close to a deal.’
Season said, ‘Carl – they need food – they want cans and frozen stuff I guess – I had to tell them that you had the key to the freezer.’
Carl nodded. He went to the kitchen cupboard, hesitated and raised his hands so that Oxnard could see that he wasn’t playing games, and then opened the cupboard up. He took out a keyring with two small chrome keys on it, and tossed it over. The Angel with the boxer’s face caught it, and winked in appreciation. ‘Thanks, mister.’
‘That’s it, then,’ said Carl. ‘Take the food and let the girl go. Just take whatever you need.’
‘Well, that isn’t everything,’ said Oxnard, slowly. ‘The deal was that we take the food because we’re hungry. But we let the girl go because we’re going to have some fun with Mommy here. Not to mention Mommy’s sister.’
Carl lunged forward, red-faced. ‘You lay one filthy finger on—’ he started, but Oxnard thrust his revolver right up against Sally’s head and shrieked, ‘You want me to kill her? Right in front of you? Is that what you want? Jesus Christ!’
There was one split second when they were all mad with the fear and tension of what was happening – when Season could see nothing in front of her eyes but boiling scarlet and feel nothing in her nerves but total fright. Then, with a slow breath, Carl backed off, one step at a time, until he was standing beside Vee and Season, and breathing like a man who’s run a mile in five minutes.
‘What do you want to do?’ he asked, in an ashy voice. ‘Season? Vee? Can you live with any of this?’