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the Z overnight anyway. That wasn't a smart move in Armenia Garden Estates.
She stooped down to pick up a fuzzy stuffed mouse Judy had given her the week
she moved out of her parents' house when she was nineteen. It squeaked
mechanically when she stroked it and her friend's voice came softly from the voice
chip inside.
Keep on keepin' on, girl. You can do it. Judy's rich, assertive tone picked up her
spirits as it always had. Lifting her chin, Laura surveyed the damage and decided
she'd better call somebody in authority although she wasn't sure who. At least the
insurance on the Z was up to date. Maybe she could get a new car out of this and
the evening wouldn't be a total loss. Far off in the distance, she heard the wail of
fire engine. About time then got here.
She dug in the somewhat grassy contents of her carry-all for a full minute before
realizing that her vid phone must still be somewhere back in the weeds where
she'd taken her last fall. Sighing she hobbled away from the car, wincing as the
gravel dug into the soles of her feet, and back to the overgrown lot.
She was lucky, she actually stubbed her big toe on the hard plastic casing. As she
was bending down to pick it up, Laura heard a muffled crumpling sound behind
her, like someone crushing an enormous old-fashioned aluminum can. She started
to turn and see what had caused it but suddenly there was a much louder sound, a
huge roaring explosion that made her ears ring and her eyes bulge in their sockets.
What felt like a giant hand made of warm air pushed her flat on her stomach and a
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twisted, jagged piece of metal buried itself in the ground not two inches from her
head.
Gasping, Laura couldn't do anything but lay there for a moment staring at the
metal. After a moment she realized what it was--the Z's rear viewer twisted into an
almost unrecognizable shape. She flopped on her back and stared dully at her car,
now just a burning shell like something you'd see at an ultra-violent vid fest.
Blew up my car, Laura thought, dazed. She'd hated the car a lot and had often
fantasized about blowing it up herself, now someone had done the job for her.
Slowly, it began to sink in. The apartment complex burning down, the Z blowing
up ...
Laura sat up and clutched at the carry-all, her heart beating crazily in her chest.
The fire hadn't been an accident. Someone had set in on purpose. And then they
had blown up her car. Somebody wanted her dead. Possibly the same somebody
who had killed Gerald and Francine. Suddenly she felt very alone and very
vulnerable.
She crawled away from the smoldering hulk of the Z and hid herself in the middle
of a tall tangle of weeds, hoping there were no snakes around and ignoring the
scratch of dry vines and stickers against her bare legs. If she turned her head to
either side she could see the remains of her home to her right and her only means
of transportation to her left, both literally going up in smoke. Her t-shirt was torn
to shreds by this time but that was the last of her worries.
How could she go back to her parents' house now? Her dad was kind of crazy but
she still loved him. And no matter how she felt about Gloria she didn't want her to
end up like the rest of the inhabitants of Colonial Village had. Even the most
annoying step-mother didn't deserve to end up a human charcoal briquette. Who
would do this and why? She remembered the way the contents of the Z had been
scattered all over the ground. Were they looking for something? But what?
Laura wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. She couldn't go to her
father's house and Judy was dead. There was no one she could call and no way to
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get anywhere. Behind her sirens wailed, a high, mournful sound growing closer.
She had never felt so alone in her life. If only she'd listened to Detective Robert's
warning. Maybe this could have been prevented somehow if only .... Laura's mind
backtracked suddenly. Detective Roberts.
I shouldn't ... It's probably past midnight ... But who else had any idea of what was
going on? Who else would believe her? The more she thought about it the more it
seemed like her only option. After all, if she went to the police with a crazy story
about somebody burning down her entire complex just to get to her what would
they think? But if she came in with a detective who already believed her they
would have to listen.
Fumbling in the darkness, Laura managed to locate her vid-phone by touch. She
had lost the card he'd given her but his number was still in the memory from her
abortive attempts to work up the nerve to call him at work.
Punching the numbers with trembling fingers and listening to the rings, Laura
prayed he had his phone. At last a deep voice still heavy with sleep answered the
phone.
H'lo? His face on the screen looked blank, still half asleep.
Hello? Laura said anxiously, trying to keep her voice low and steady. Listen, I know it's late and I'm
sorry but I didn't know who else to call....
Chapter 8
She looked like a mess.
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