I cracked my lids cautiously against the brightness of the morning. The camper's interior wavered against my retinas. I sat up, squinted and screwed up my face. The light splintered, piercing my brain. Sun spots swam in circles, like carp in a pond, eventually flicking their tails and diving out of sight, allowing the scene to come into focus. And what a scene it was: Allie standing by the sink, a kettle in one hand, smiling in that way she had, her hair haloed by the sun and more golden than ever.
“Good morning! Good morning!” she sang, just like Debbie Reynolds in the movie. Only a hundred percent more naked.
Seriously. Not even a sou'wester.
“Morning,” I croaked, trying and failing not to stare at the way the sunlight accented every curve.
“I was gonna make us some coffee,” she said, replacing the kettle on the stovetop.
“Sounds good,” I growled.
“But now you're awake …” she continued, climbing back onto the bed, “... I've thought of something better.” She leaned over and kissed me - briefly, questioningly - on the lips and there was that hot, liquid sensation again. I blinked, feeling lightheaded. She perched beside me and we regarded each other, Allie with a playful twinkle, me with an unsteady eye. I just didn’t know where to look. This kind of thing was much easier in the dark. Meeting her amused eyes had me squirming; staring at her breasts seemed rude, even if they stared right back; and the patch of mousey curls between her legs made me blush every time I caught sight of it. And that was quite a lot. Because there was something about it that drew the eye. Perhaps it was because the air of secrecy that the curls provided was at odds with Allie’s brazen nudity. Perhaps it was because I was unused to looking at a naked woman, even myself, having spent the last two years avoiding full length mirrors - or any length mirrors, for that matter. Perhaps it was because, if I was being honest with myself, I was curious about how it might feel under my fingers, if I were brave enough to reach over and touch her.
The thought of touching her had me blushing and staring at my lap. Staring at my lap reminded me that Allie’s face had been between my thighs just hours earlier and I realised that my shyness was ridiculous. I shook my head and laughed at myself. Looking up, I caught Allie’s smiling eyes and opened my arms.
“C'mere, beautiful girl,” I told her. Her face lit up and within a second we had our arms around each other. I kissed her exactly as I had always wanted to, through every breakfast she had brought me at The Malibu and through every sleepless night in between visits. I took charge of her mouth and she let me. It was soft and hot and I couldn’t get enough of the way it made me feel - strong and weak at the same time - or the way her breath caught as the waves of arousal hit her. Touching her was easy, I discovered. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing but Allie’s sounds and movements steered me around her erogenous zones, of which there were many, like I was one of those seeing-eye dogs learning the neighbourhood.
Afterwards, as she lay in my arms recovering herself and catching her breath, I admired how the flush of her cheeks made her eyes shine an even brighter shade of blue. She caught me staring and her lips curved in a satisfied smile.
“That was nice,” she commented, breathily. I nodded but knew nice didn’t even touch it, not for me. I had held her while she came and, feeling her tremble, hearing her plead and being the one she trusted to take her there, had a kind of significance that I couldn't yet figure out.
“We should get going,” I said, not meaning a word of it. She nodded insincerely and placed her mouth over my nipple. I sighed and ran my hands down her back while she suckled.
Lifting her head for a breath, she looked at my breasts and asked, “Which is your favourite?” so matter-of-factly that I wondered which of us was weirder - her for being so sure I had a favourite - or me for never having thought about it before. After a moment’s consideration I pointed to the left, slightly rounder and fuller than the right. “Poor right titty,” she murmured, kissing the rejected breast as though it might be suffering from sibling rivalry. I laughed but not for long.
It's possible I dozed again because the next thing I knew Allie was at the stove, making us breakfast. I watched, remembering the fantasy I’d had of her cooking for me. The light came through the thin curtains just like I’d imagined. There was no orange juice and no radio playing but I could let my imagination fill in the details, including the song playing.
Someone who loves me switched the radio on
Someone who loves me
Allie brought me coffee. It was instant and tasted like I was sucking melted tar off of the sole of my boot. I drank it down greedily, shovelled in the eggs and tore through the bread roll Allie passed me. Turns out good sex makes you hungry. Then I cleared up while she heated some water for washing. I calculated that I had last showered four days ago. For Allie it was only three but at this point neither of us was winning any prizes for freshness. And I had been sweaty and dusty long before I got covered in Allie’s juices and she in mine.
I had her stand on the bottom step of the camper's back door so that the lukewarm water I trickled over her fell on the ground. She lathered up. I rinsed her off and then we switched. I gave my pits and between my legs a thorough wash despite feeling self-conscious about having an audience. Allie watched avidly, not bothering to hide her interest.
“Maybe we should have gone to a motel instead,” I commented after I had wobbled off the step and got my wet feet filthy, making Allie laugh. “It would have been easier.”
“But nowhere near as much fun,” Allie said as she joined in towelling me off, her hands lingering in places she had already found were sensitive. I gave her a knowing smile and took a step back. It would be all too easy to start up again. We could tumble back into bed and not move from this spot until some of the lowlifes Maxi had mentioned caught up with us and drove bullets to our horny little brains. A double-wide shallow grave was definitely not the eternity I had planned for the two of us.
I put on a fresh pair of the plain white underwear Allie had chosen for me and shrugged on the crumpled blouse and the orange corduroys. Maybe we would have time for some laundry at some point, if we survived the next day or two. Allie tossed aside her checked skirt in favour of my jeans, which fit her much better than they did me. I wound down the roof of the living compartment but had one more task before we could leave.
Grabbing a spoon, I walked a couple hundred yards further from the road, chose an anonymous patch of dirt and started digging a shallow grave of my own. Luckily, it didn't need to be very large. From my pocket I pulled out the gun that Allie had shot Danny Winter with, wiped it on my blouse, and dropped it in the hole. Once I had covered it over, that patch of dirt looked no different from any other and I had faith that the gun could easily lie there for a hundred years without being discovered. Back at the camper, I dug the other gun out of my duffel. This was a banged up 9mm I had bought on the street and stored at Derek’s with the rest of my escape kit. It had seen better days and God only knows what it had been used for in the past but we couldn’t afford to be fussy. I showed it to Allie, pointing out the safety and how to load and insert the double-stack magazine. She picked it up quickly and was soon aiming it at rocks and getting the feel of the crunchy trigger. I had her load it up.
“Keep it on you,” I told her. “You likely won’t need it but …”
“Best to be safe,” she confirmed with a nod. She found a loose bit of stitching down the side of the passenger seat, enlarged it and slipped the pistol inside. I kept my Beretta in my jacket pocket and we were set to go.
“We’ve gotta make it to Flagstaff today,” I told her as I pulled the Mystery Machine back onto the road. “Can you work us out a good route?” I asked, nodding at the pilfered map. “Staying off the Needles as much as we can.”
“Needles?” Allie asked, unfolding the map.
“I-40,” I clarified.
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I think I see a route.” I followed her directions in silence for a few minutes. “Why Flagstaff?” she finally asked. “I thought we were going to Phoenix.”
“We are,” I said. “But there’s something I have to do in Flagstaff first.” I hadn’t told her about Mary’s. And I hadn’t told her we were meeting Maxi and Boomer there. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I just couldn’t shake the habit of keeping my mouth shut. My life, and everyone else’s that I cared about had, for the last two years, depended on me only giving out as much information as necessary. There was no point, for example, in Maxi knowing my home address, or me knowing hers. That kind of stupidity might allow someone to leverage the information, should something go wrong. Informational fire breaks, that’s how I liked to think of them.
“You don’t say much do you?” Allie commented, conversationally, a few miles down the road, reading my thoughts. I glanced at her and tried not to take her comment personally. In her place, I’d probably want to know a bit more of the plan too.
“You want to know what’s in Flagstaff?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.
She scoffed. “Sure,” she said. “But I’d rather know how you’re feeling about seeing Debbie again after all this time. Like, are you nervous or excited?” She paused, expectantly, but I had no idea how to put the whirl of conflicting emotions into words.
“ … Nervous, I guess …”
She nodded, and her expression indicated that this was what she had expected. She folded her arms, as though she was tucking my admission away for later, though I had only parroted back one of her options. I looked at her out of the edge of my eye, noting the satisfied curl of her lips when she caught me watching her.
“Bea, stop staring, I get it, you like me,” she said. She was teasing but the blood still drained from my face. “It’s been obvious for weeks, but it’s only fair to let you know that I really like you.” She turned her body towards me and spoke on, emphasising her words with movements of her hands. “I know this whole on-the-run thing is kinda out of the blue …” My eyebrows had crawled up so far, they were probably working their way down the back of my head by now, “ … but it worked out pretty stellar, throwing us together like this.” I couldn’t look at her, so I concentrated on driving, over-conscientiously checking my mirrors. “And I’m cool with us making this a longer term thing, you know? Like, once we get to Phoenix, I’m not planning on splitting. Unless you’re sick of me.” She stopped talking then but the question was implied. After a moment, I replied.
“I’m not sick of you,” I muttered.
“So you do like me? Really like me?” she asked. I knew that if I looked at her I would find that teasing look still in her eyes. I suppressed a smile.
“Need me to write you a love poem?” I grouched.
“Oh, wow! You said the L word,” she said. From my peripheral vision, I could see her clutching her chest dramatically. I rolled my eyes. “Actually, I would love to read a poem by you, Bea,” she said. “Because so far I’ve been getting by on minimal conversation and your almost invisible smiles. Even in bed, you’re really quiet - up until the moment you’re not,” she laughed. I stared at her in astonishment and almost drove us off the road. “Fucking hell, Bea!” Allie exclaimed, as she grabbed the wheel to correct our course.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“It’s okay,” she replied good-naturedly. Her lunge at the wheel had shifted her closer to me. She took advantage of our proximity to lay her left hand on my thigh.
“We go right, about half a mile up ahead,” she said blandly, as though the feeling of her hot palm pressing against my susceptible flesh through my thick corduroy pants wasn’t making a neighbouring part of me heat up in turn. I swallowed and gripped the wheel tighter.
And that was how we drove to Flagstaff. Allie with her hand on my thigh the whole way, me with increasingly damp underwear.
፨፨፨
It was five in the afternoon, in the outskirts of Flagstaff, when I almost overshot the turn for Mary’s. We were on a long, straight stretch of road and I was barrelling along at fifty-five. I spotted the distinctive twin triangles, like two wigwams, that flanked the central window of the cafe and braked hard. I pulled the Mystery Machine down the side of the building rather than park out front - no point in advertising our presence - and turned off the truck. We sat silently, listening to the engine cooling.
I figured that Maxi and Boomer wouldn't be there yet but I looked around the parking lot anyway. I didn’t know what they were driving but, knowing Boomer, it would be something inappropriate. Nothing stood out. I thought Allie would be keen to quiz me, now that we had arrived, but she remained silent and seemed content to sit and look out of the windshield. No using the bathroom; no going inside for coffee. When Franky had worked here, they’d made incredible French toast. Allie would love it. Maybe we could come back, once the heat on us had died down. Fuck. If I didn’t watch out I’d end up sounding like some kind of optimist.
Dusk began to fall. Mary’s was open until eight and we saw a few cars come and go while we waited. Every time a vehicle swept in, I sat forward to catch a glimpse of the driver. Each time, I was disappointed and sat back with a sigh. After this had happened one too many times, Allie took my hand and held it between both of hers. She didn’t speak or look at me but I knew she felt how on edge I was and was trying to help. And maybe it did help. The encroaching darkness certainly helped. I felt more anonymous in the dark. The night was my time.
“What you said before,” I began, startling Allie from a reverie. “About me liking you.” I felt her eyes on the side of my face. “It’s true,” I said softly. “I like you so much I … couldn’t tell you, before. I don’t know why not. I don’t know how to do … this.” I swallowed. “I’ve never felt like this about someone before.” She didn’t say anything, just squeezed my hand to show she was listening. “I think you’re … kind and funny and brave. And so smart it’s ridiculous.” I took a breath. “You’re beautiful,” I said bluntly. “Your eyes. Your mouth. I can hardly look away. And I don’t know what it is but … when you touch me it’s intense. Like … “ I hesitated, waving my hand in front of my face, “something in my head overloads.” She huffed out a dry laugh.
“Me too,” she said in a confiding whisper. “Trust me when I say we have some special chemistry going on, babe.” I turned to look at her then. Though it was now too dark to see her properly, I thought I knew exactly the expression she wore - one percent impressed that I had fessed up, ninety-nine percent smug that I was hooked on her. I kissed her, of course, and felt the familiar tug, drawing me in, asking me to lose myself in her. I pulled away. I needed to keep a clear head.
“What are we waiting for?” she finally asked.
“Maxi and Boomer,” I told her.
“Boomer?” she asked incredulously. I realised I hadn’t told her about Boomer.
“She’s the one who stole us that ridiculous car,” I said. She laughed.
“They’re meeting us here as soon as they can,” I said.
“And then what?”
“We go on to Phoenix. Get Debbie and Liz and get the fuck out of town.” I clenched my jaw, anxiously. “That’s the plan, anyway. Only …”
“Only what?”
“What if it’s a terrible plan?” I asked plaintively. “I’ve spent the last two years keeping Debbie safe and now, when the danger is greater than ever, here I am running toward her, bringing the danger with me. I must be losing my mind. I should be running in the other direction, drawing them away from her …” I almost started the engine then, abruptly convinced that I had to leave to keep Debbie safe. But Allie squeezed my hand again.
“Bea,” she said, reasonably. “We’ve seen no signs of pursuit since we left LA. There’s every reason to think that no one knows we’re here. We have time to wait for Maxi and Boomer to catch up with us. And we have time to go get your daughter.” She spoke with certainty and I wanted to believe her.
“You think so?” I asked, so unsure of my instincts now that I needed someone to tell me what to do. What the fuck was happening to me?
“I think so,” she confirmed. “Anyway, I really need to pee. Don't you?” I shook my head. I had spent so much time sitting in my van, waiting for targets that my bladder had roughly the same capacity as Lake Tahoe.
“It’s nearly closing,” I said. “You'd better go while you still have the chance.” I watched her stride across the almost empty parking lot, her legs looking extra long in my blue jeans, her ass snuggly cradled by the faded denim.
The headlights of a car, swooping down and then up in my rearview mirror as it bumped into the lot, pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a VW bug and even in the dark I could see that it was painted a lurid green. I laughed to myself. Boomer. Sure enough, it pulled in, killed its engine and then flashed twice. I climbed out of the truck, stretched and hurried over, suddenly eager to see my friends. I could hear the driver’s side window being rolled down as I approached. I bent over, ready to deliver a cutting, “What kept ya?” when the door was opened hard and fast into my face. There was a crack of pain and I reeled backwards, clutching my streaming nose. Before I could hit the ground, someone had grabbed me from behind with an arm across my throat and a palm clapped across my eyes. I twisted in his grip but he was strong. I struggled, reaching into my pocket for the Beretta. A second someone, presumably the bug driver, grabbed my arms. I kicked out savagely, connecting with flesh, hearing a cry of pain. I grinned through the blood that was running into my mouth and over my chin.
“Grab her,” the first man hissed close to my ear.
“I’m tryin’!” the bug driver insisted. I heard the sound of tyres on gravel.
“Here’s George,” the first man said, dragging me backwards while I struggled. “Check her for weapons,” he instructed. I kicked out again but it seemed that this time the bug driver had learned to stay out of range. I could feel implacable hands on me from behind - the third man, George, no doubt. I wriggled like a desperate eel clamped in the beak of an unflappable heron. I felt the first man’s hands begin to lose their grip on my throat and eyes. Light filtered in. I was doing this. I was getting free.
፨፨፨
I awoke in the dark. There was pain. I catalogued it dispassionately. Head. Nose. Wrists. Left knee. Then I dismissed it, as I had taught myself to. I moved experimentally. My hands were tied behind me but my legs remained free and I wasn’t gagged. Ha! I planned on making them regret that oversight. Perhaps they’d had to improvise when I didn’t go as quietly as they’d hoped. Poor them. The hardships of being Marie Winter’s lackeys.
I was in the trunk of a moving car. A spacious one. Definitely not the VW bug. Briefly, I cursed myself for taking that bright green bait. Fucking idiot! Then I began to rifle my thoughts for a way out of this mess.
It only took a moment to realise that my Beretta was gone. These guys might be lowlifes but they weren’t total morons. I tried to work out if I had actually heard Allie cry out before I lost consciousness or if I had only imagined it. I hoped I had imagined it. I hoped there had been a long line for the cafe’s single bathroom and she had been at the back of it and came out into the parking lot to find it deserted. What would she do then? I didn’t know but at least she would be safe.
I tugged at my wrist restraints. Rope. Tied pretty tight. Car trunks aren’t all that hard to get out of, once you get the hang of it, but with your hands tied behind your back … That certainly adds a layer of difficulty. I was facing away from the direction of travel so I turned onto my back, ignoring the pain in my shoulders, then over onto my other side. Using my feet against the wall of the trunk, I pushed myself backwards until my fingers brushed against the trunk’s rear lining. Then I walked my fingers up, searching for an edge. My shoulders burned; I could feel the rope abrading the skin on my wrists and I started to sweat. Car trunks aren’t air tight but it doesn’t take long to get overheated and feel like you’re suffocating, especially if your nose is busted. Deliberately, I slowed my breathing and visualised locating the edge of the liner and pulling it away to reveal the trunk lock mechanism. The car cornered sharply and I braced my feet so I wouldn't roll away and lose track of my progress. I had to hurry. If we arrived at our destination with me still locked in the trunk, I was almost certainly a dead woman.
Okay, I had an edge. I almost sobbed with relief but I gritted my teeth and hooked the fingers of one hand into the small gap. I tugged but couldn’t seem to get any purchase to rip it open. I waited. While I waited I breathed. This time, when we cornered, I hung on tight to the liner and allowed the momentum of the turn to throw my body round. The liner gave a little. Now the gap was big enough for me to wriggle my hand inside. The restraints on my wrists turned with a well oiled sensation that made me queasy and I knew I was bleeding. I put that to one side and felt with my fingers. Metal. Metal. Metal. Ha! Cable. This was it. All I needed to do was to pull the cable hard enough and the trunk would release.
I pulled. I sweated. I pulled again. My wrists oozed. I felt so weak. I pulled. Nothing. I gasped through my mouth. Where was the oxygen? Where was my strength? I pulled. My fingers were slippery, with sweat or blood, I didn’t know which. I pulled. And suddenly it gave. Suddenly there was cool air and a subdued light and the sound of the tyres on the road. I slumped happily for a second or two before flipping onto my ass and looking out.
The trunk lid was raised two or three inches. Enough for me to see out but hopefully not enough to give the game away. We were driving along an unlit country road, going pretty fast. We were certainly travelling too fast for me to risk heaving myself over the sill. I would have to wait until we slowed down. If I climbed out at this speed, and without my hands to break my fall, I’d end up as naked as an alligator in a belt factory. Luckily, I was wearing my suede jacket and corduroys, both of which would give me some protection from the ground, when I did make my move.
Suddenly, and with only minimal slowing, we made a turn. I was flung into the corner of the trunk. The trunk lid flapped up and down like a chewing mouth and we began bouncing along a lumpy dirt road fringed with scrubby plants. This driver, George was it? must be crazy. If he didn’t slow down he’d sheer his tailpipe off on a rock. I struggled back to the lip of the trunk and looked out. We were still going pretty fast but I figured that we must be getting close to our destination. It was now or never, as they say. I got my legs under me and, in a kneeling position, pushed the trunk lid fully open with my head. Knowing I might not have long before someone noticed the trunk was open, I flung one leg over the sill and kind of rolled myself out of the trunk and into the road, aiming to land on my back.
The best laid plans. I hit the ground. Mainly, my fall was broken by my shoulder. And by the knee that was already damaged in some way I couldn’t yet figure. And by my face. It hurt and all I wanted was to lie there and die. Maybe my flesh would be eaten by coyotes and my bones would bleach and crumble to dust. I would return to the earth and all this would be over.
Grudgingly, I made like a Little Debbie and rolled myself off the road and behind the sagebrush, just in case someone in the sedan was looking back down the road. My nose was bleeding again so I turned onto my stomach. It would be a shame to drown in my own blood after going to all this trouble to stay alive. I listened to the sound of the car getting farther and farther away. Only when it was nearly inaudible did I poke my head up and look around. It was dark and there wasn’t much to see. In the distance, I could see the taillights of the car glowing redly. Behind the car was the black boxiness of a single storey building. I heard the car doors slam. I heard the exclamations of disbelief and dismay as they realised I was gone. I heard the recriminations begin. Someone got a cuff round the head. I suspected it was George. I laughed quietly to myself and slithered into a ditch.
I lay there for a few minutes, collecting myself. It would probably take them a while to find flashlights and organise a search, assuming they wanted me badly enough. I got to my knees, then to my feet, hunched over so as not to be conspicuous. And I actually stood there, in that ditch, trying and failing to get my tied hands down low enough so that I could step backwards through my bonds and get my hands in front of me. I felt sure I had seen someone do this in a movie but it just didn’t seem possible. My arms were too short or my ass was too big or that movie was bullshit. My knee was hurting, I could hardly balance and I wanted to cry. Fuck it. The hands stayed behind for now.
Since I seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, I figured my best chance of escape was to steal the car while they were searching for me. Obviously, I couldn’t drive with my hands tied behind me, so I had to find some way of cutting the rope. The lowlifes were obligingly combing the area for me now, flashlights sweeping the road and brush nearest the building. I just needed to avoid them until they moved farther from the car, then cut in behind them, find something sharp, cut the rope, find the car keys, and drive out without getting shot. Simple. My head drooped for a second until I told myself to buck up and get moving.
I settled into a kind of Quasimodo lurch, going from ditch to stunted tree to boulder. I had made a couple hundred feet of progress when I heard another car approaching. Quickly, I squatted behind a bush, creosote from the smell of it, strong enough to be detected by even my busted up nose. As the car drew nearer I could see it was the green VW bug. It rattled past and stopped next to the dark four door sedan that I had so enjoyed riding in. I watched in horror as the driver dragged a limp form from the backseat and tossed it over his shoulder. The blonde of her hair was unmistakable.
One of the other lowlifes, the first man maybe, joined him. They talked for a moment, then he gestured at the building and the bug driver took her inside. Freshly motivated and with a new item on my already substantial agenda, I continued my progress towards the building. The presence of the bug driver complicated matters but perhaps there would be something in there that I could use to cut this fucking rope.
፨፨፨
The building must once have had some kind of rural, countrified purpose that I had no hope of guessing at but, judging by the rust and filth everywhere, it had been long out of use and was now in its final death throes. It was so dilapidated that it was easy to broach its outer skin; boards were missing here and there like open sores in a dying beast’s hide. I shimmied inside one of them and paused to let my eyes adjust to the extra dark of the interior. Low beams, garlands of cobweb, half rotted debris; not the kind of interior design that gladdens the eye. Still, there were rusted implements clinging doggedly to one wall. I sidled over and chose the one I judged would be least likely to give me tetanus. I rubbed my bindings against it while I tried to remember if my shots were up to date. It was better than wondering if I was already too late to help Allie.
The hoe or scythe or whatever was as blunt as hell but I could feel some strands begin to part. My spirits lifted but the next moment crashed back down. I could hear voices nearby and I was forced to pause my impotent frottage in case they heard my movements.
“The boss wants her dead. We should just kill her,” the first, objectionably nasal, voice said. It was the bug driver.
“Yeah, but we have to hold off for now. When she comes around she might be able to tell us where the other one went,” another voice said. “She can’t have got far.”
“I wanna be the one to do her,” the bug driver said. “She stabbed me!”
Atta girl, I thought.
“I know,” the other man replied wearily. I detected little sympathy from this guy whose voice I now recognised from the parking lot at Mary’s. Lowlife number one.
“In the face!” the bug driver said with emphasis.
“Yeah …”
“She coulda got my eye.”
Jesus. What a crybaby.
“You’re gonna have a pussy magnet of a scar,” lowlife number one assured him. The bug driver didn’t say anything. “Quit poking at it!” his boss said. “You’ll just make it worse.”
“It hurts like …” Their boots crunched against the ground as their voices faded away. I took a deep breath and resumed my rubbing.
Finally the rope parted and I was able to unwind my bonds. My hands felt like they belonged to someone else, someone exceptionally clumsy. Maybe a Muppet. Beaker would be a good fit. I rubbed them together briskly, to get the blood flowing again, but decided against examining my wrists too closely. Picking up my trusty scythe, hoe, whatever, as a makeshift weapon, I crept towards where I had heard the voices. There was another gap in the wooden wall here, and I guessed the lowlifes had been standing together just outside, having dumped Allie somewhere inside. Away to my left I could see a passageway, shrouded in deep shadow. As far as I could tell it was the only way into the rest of the building. I tiptoed into it, one hand held out in front of me blindly.
The passageway led me into a large, open space. Some starlight filtered in from an empty hatch high up in the roof and illuminated a cruel looking hook dangling from a chain. It was attached to a pulley. This had once been used as some kind of storage and loading area. There were a few doors leading off this central space but, when I examined them, only one was padlocked. Talk about a dead giveaway. I was gonna have to bust it open with my scythe to get to Allie. I winced at the thought of how much noise it would make and who would come running in response but there was no way around it. I opted for decisive and noisy over hesitant and stealthy, stuck the blade behind the hasp and levered.
Unfortunately, the scythe had other ideas and crumbled in two at the sight of that sturdy chain. I cursed under my breath. In response, I heard a noise from inside the room, like someone gagged trying to yell. She was alive! I needed to move fast now before the noise we were making alerted the lowlifes. Deciding that the wood at the bottom of the door looked weaker than any other part of the arrangement I yanked at it with my bare hands and levered at it with the hoe handle. Softened by years of neglect, some pieces of it peeled away easily. Other parts needed more force but soon I’d made a hole large enough to crawl through.
It was dark on the other side. I felt my way forward and, guided by the sounds, came across Allie's writhing body. She was bound hand and foot but I started by picking at the gag.
“It’s me, babe. I'm gonna get you out of this,” I assured her. The knot wouldn't come undone so I yanked the cloth down over her chin, silently apologising for hurting her.
“Ow! Thanks, babe,” came the sardonic reply.
“Maxi?” I squeaked, my thoughts scrabbling.
“For fuck's sake untie me, Bea,” she growled, as sour as her favourite cocktail. A sidecar - without the sugar on the rim. I struggled with her knots.
“Is Allie in here too?” I asked, listening to sounds of movement in the dark.
“Probably,” Maxi replied. “They dumped something in here a little while ago. But that galumphing you can hear is Boomer.”
I got Maxi’s hands undone and left her to deal with her own ankles while I searched the rest of the room. Boomer was making a lot of noise, evidently to let me know how imperative it was that I untie her, but I was panicking about Allie’s continued silence. What if she was suffocating right at that moment and I couldn’t get her gag off in time? What if the bug driver had injured her worse than he'd thought and she was bleeding from internal injuries? I had to find her. Maxi could deal with Boomer.
I blind-man's-buffed my way around the room, bouncing off the walls, getting splinters in my hands and tripping over Boomer's jerking legs before feeling something against my boot. It could’ve been a pile of rags but I knelt down and cautiously laid my hands on it. Warm. I skimmed my hands up her body and found a gag just like Maxi’s. I got it off in a whirlwind of impatient fingers and leaned down to put my face close to hers. A faint puff of breath against my cheek. A knot uncoiled in my chest.
“Allie. Allie,” I said, patting her cheek. “C’mon babe. You need to wake up now.” Nothing. I started in on her ropes. It was indescribably horrible to feel her, warm and soft beneath my hands, and yet so lax and unresponsive, like nature had turned itself inside out.
Maxi had got Boomer’s gag off and was trying to get her to keep her voice down while she removed her bindings. I was struggling with Allie’s ankles, wondering if I would be able to get her up and walking in any case, when I heard voices in the passage outside. I froze and heard Maxi and Boomer do the same. Quickly, I snatched up my broken hoe and ghosted over in the direction of the door. Light flashed behind the cracks and through the hole I had made.
“ … get her talking. If she won’t tell, we can use the pincers. And if she still won’t talk, I’d guess she don’t know …” It was lowlife number one.
“And we kill her,” the bug driver confirmed, eagerly.
“Uhn,” number one prevaricated. “I dunno. Maybe the boss will want to do it herself.”
I hefted the broken tool as he worked the padlock and prayed he wouldn’t notice the hole in the door. I could sense Maxi and Boomer flanking the door on the other side, primed for action, though completely unarmed. The men, no doubt, had guns. We had the element of surprise. I grinned to myself in the darkness.
It was a short and brutal struggle. It turns out that two armed men are no match for three mostly unarmed women, especially when they fight dirty and one of them is Boomer. I whacked the guy round the head with my tool. Obviously, he had an unusually hard head and he didn’t go down. I took a punch in the face in return but my attacker had no way of knowing that I had taken hundreds of punches just like his and knew how to shake them off. I countered with a gut punch, an ear twist and a bite of one of his extraordinarily hairy fingers. He yelled. Maxi grabbed him from behind. She’s tall, is Maxi, and with an arm across his throat he struggled to dislodge her. While they haggled over who would get the upper hand, I grabbed his pistol from his belt and shoved it in his face. He soon subsided. Maxi grabbed up a flashlight that had fallen to the ground. Boomer had the bug driver laid out on the floor.
“Is he dead?” I asked her.
“Nah,” she panted. “D’ya want him dead?” she asked hopefully. I thought about it.
“Take his gun,” I told her. She flipped him over like he weighed nothing and extracted his gun from the back of his pants. It was my Beretta. I’d have to disinfect it. Now I hated him even more. “Cover this guy,” I said, gesturing to number one. She did, and I stepped over to the bug driver. I tipped his head back so I could see his face. Sure enough there was a large, ugly hole gouged into his cheek just under his eye. I straightened up, gave a humourless laugh and kicked him in the gut. Payback for his eagerness to kill Allie.
“We have to leave,” Maxi said. “Right now, before someone else comes to check on us. How many do you reckon there are altogether?”
“Four,” I said confidently. My eyes went to number one and I could tell I was right. I bent down, frisked the bug driver and came up with the car keys. I dangled them in the light beam. “Here’s our ticket out of here.”
Boomer crowed triumphantly and snatched them out of my hand. “Herbie! Let’s go, bitches!”
“Hold on,” Maxi and I said at the same time.
“We’ve gotta go carefully,” Maxi explained.
“And I need you to carry Allie,” I told her. She looked glum. “Because you’re the strongest.” She brightened up at the praise. “Gimme the keys. Give the gun to Maxi.” She handed it over so that Maxi could cover number one. He glared at her from under his brows but managed not to say whatever foul thing was on the tip of his tongue. Quite the diplomat, for a lowlife. That must be why he was in charge.
Boomer slung Allie over her shoulder. I winced, imagining how gently I would have handled her.
“You go first, Maxi,” I said. “To cover Boomer and Allie. I’ll bring up the rear with this guy.”
Maxi sidled through the open doorway. “Turn right down the passage,” I hissed from behind. Once they were out of the room, I gestured to number one. “You next,” I said.
“Even if you get out of here, Winter will never stop looking for you,” he told me with a smug grin.
“I know,” I said, brightly. “But that’s a problem for another day.” I gestured again with the gun. He turned towards the door. I flipped it around and bashed him on the head hard enough to fell an elephant. This time he went down. And stayed down. I longed to shoot him. And the bug driver too. I dithered but decided it would make too much noise. Instead, I satisfied myself by very deliberately standing on his hand and crushing his supremely hairy fingers. It was his right hand, too. I hurried after the others.
Outside, we crouched by the building. The most direct route to the VW took us across a lot of open ground. And, of course, as soon as we started the engine the game would be up. No, the best thing would be to put the two remaining lowlifes out of action so that we could leave without getting shot at. I could see a flashlight beam bouncing around in the distance.
“Stay here,” I told the others. “I'll be back soon. Look after Allie.” I bent down and kissed her forehead. It felt cool and damp in the night air. I stripped off my jacket and tucked it around her. Boomer gave me a wide-eyed look, like she didn't even recognise me. Maxi laid a hand on my arm.
“Don’t let your anger get the better of you,” she told me. I gave her a puzzled look.
“I'm not angry,” I said. “Just busy.” I waved the pistol in the direction of the bobbing flashlight. I grinned at her and loped into the brush.
፨፨፨
When I returned, bloody and with my knee and hands even more wrecked than before, Maxi didn't hold back with the I-told-you-so looks. Okay, so maybe I had been a tiny bit angry. I shrugged and was considering justifying my actions when Allie stirred. I crouched down beside her, my hands going to her face, smoothing her hair away from her cheeks.
“Allie? Can you hear me?”
“Bea …” Her eyes fluttered open. In the near dark, I couldn’t actually see their indescribable blueness. But my heart saw it and leaped just like it always did. Incredibly, she smiled at me, just as if she hadn't been knocked unconscious, kidnapped and almost killed. My eyes watered and it almost certainly wasn't because my knee was fucking killing me. Maxi and Boomer had removed the ropes on her wrists and ankles while I had been gone and she reached out to touch my cheek.
“You have something on your face,” she said, swiping at a streak of blood. George's. Or maybe the other guy, whose name I had never learned and now never would.
“You’re safe now,” I told her, a little savagely. She nodded, understanding, and some of the tightness in me loosened.
“We should get going,” Maxi said, ever the voice of reason. I nodded.
Allie tried to stand but staggered and looked sickened. So Boomer carried her, more gently this time, and Maxi covered our rear as we made our way to the VW. Once Allie was settled in the backseat, I threw the keys to Boomer.
“You drive,” I said. Her face lit up happily.
“Fuckin’ A!” she said by way of celebration, and quickly jumped behind the wheel like she was worried I might change my mind. I considered going back inside and finishing off the bug driver and lowlife number one but I was tired and my knee was throbbing and Allie was looking at me in that way she has. So I thought, fuck it, and climbed into the back of the car with her. She came into my arms gladly. She was covered in cuts and bruises and had an outstanding lump on her head but seemed otherwise okay. Even so, I cradled her gingerly, as much for my sake as for hers. Between us we were in bad enough shape to need the kid glove treatment.
I recited the turns I remembered from my journey in the trunk, and Boomer drove us back to Mary’s. It was well after closing time and the camper van was the only thing left in the lot. Allie had fallen asleep, so I left her with Maxi and Boomer and transferred to the cab of the camper. Knee protesting, I drove us on towards Phoenix and the VW followed on behind. I knew we couldn't, or at least shouldn't, show up at Liz’s in the middle of the night looking like extras from Dawn of the Dead, so I found us a rest stop near the city and we pulled in for the night.
The back of the Mystery Machine was a disaster zone. Allie explained that, when she had come out of the bathroom into the lot, bug guy had made a grab for her. She had managed to get away from him and make a dash for the cab of the truck, thinking to reach the 9mm, but he had followed her and caught her. He’d dragged her into the back of the camper and none of us had any illusions about what he had planned to do to her there. They must have had a real stand up fight; there was blood and broken dishes everywhere. Allie stabbed him in the face and, enraged, he had knocked her out cold with something. The cast iron pan in the sink, perhaps.
“I'm glad those nail scissors came in useful after all,” I said, looking at them where they lay on the floor, sticky with blood.
“It’s important to have the right equipment,” Allie said and smiled serenely.
The four of us crowded in amongst the debris, surveying each other's injuries. Standing there in the back of the Mystery Machine with Maxi and Boomer I couldn’t help thinking that, if Allie and I were Velma and Daphne, it was not hard to imagine the two of them as Fred and Shaggy. And even easier to say which was which. I smiled to myself while Allie got out her bag of drug store supplies and we began to patch each other up as best we could.
“What happened to your fingers?” I asked Maxi in horror. The pinky and ring finger on one hand were swollen and sickeningly misaligned. She must have been in a lot of pain but, in typical Maxi style, remained uncomplaining.
“They broke them when I wouldn’t tell them where we were meeting you.” She looked at me defiantly.
“Shit,” I said, feelingly. “I'm so sorry. I honestly don't blame you at all for giving it up in the end.” Maxi’s eyes slid away.
“It was me!” Boomer blurted. “They was gonna shoot Maxi in the head. I had ta.” I looked at Boomer. There were tears in her eyes and she looked genuinely afraid of what I might do. I gripped her upper arm and she flinched.
“It’s okay, Booms. I would've done the same thing in your position.” Her mouth fell open in surprise.
“Told you,” Maxi said with a grin.
“I'm sorry, you guys. This is all my fault,” I said to the two of them. “I got you into this and I nearly got you killed.”
Maxi smiled in that kind way she had. “It’s okay. We're a team, right?” I nodded, though tears threatened to spill, humbled by their faithful friendship and wishing I had treated Boomer more considerately in the past. I had often spoken roughly to her, frustrated by her misunderstandings, but I hadn’t realised until now how she took it to heart.
“It’s all my fault, really,” Allie chipped in good-naturedly. “I'm the one that shot that little bastard.”
Now it was Maxi’s turn to look surprised. “You killed Danny Winter?” Allie nodded. Maxi opened her mouth, saw Allie turn her eyes to me, and closed it again, all questions answered.
After that I taped Maxi’s fingers together with a ridiculous number of band aids. In return she corrected my nose with a painful twist that had my eyes watering again. We all washed off as much blood and dust as we had energy for. Allie passed around the Tylenol and a glass of water and we all partook, like it was some kind of fugitive's communion. Boomer was starving and tore her way through a stale bread roll, though the rest of us had no appetite. Allie made me peel off my pants, again, and used a pair of pantyhose to bind up my bad knee.
Then we set up the bed and all four of us settled down, though there really wasn't enough room. We arranged ourselves in a stiff line, like pencils in a box. I closed my eyes gratefully. Boomer immediately began to snore. Lying there, wondering if I would be able to sleep, I realised that the last time Allie and I had been in this spot was when we had made love just before breakfast. Was that only this morning? I wondered. It seemed like the longest day of my life. But then Allie’s hand crept into mine and squeezed. I squeezed back and smiled into the dark.
፨፨፨
The next morning we gussied ourselves up as best we could and set out. We were driving to Liz’s and I would soon be seeing Debbie again. Naturally, I was nervous. Traffic on the I10 was bad, which didn't contribute much to my mood, but Allie sat beside me while I drove and laid a not-so-calming hand on my thigh. Maxi and Boomer were in the back. They had unloaded all their belongings from the VW and had left it behind, much to Boomer's disappointment. Luckily, the lowlifes had left their bags unmolested, though they might have been more interested in them had they known that the contents of the firm's safe were hidden beneath Boomer's underwear. While I drove they counted out the cash, with Boomer shouting out regular, exuberant subtotals as we went.
Once we reached Liz’s neighbourhood I tooled around slowly. I was looking out for the house I remembered from that crazy day two years ago, when I had brought Debbie here without warning, not knowing where else she might be safe and well cared for. I almost drove right by it. Liz had had it repainted in a crazy Pepto Bismol pink. Debbie’s choice. I was willing to stake my life on it.
I pulled onto the drive next to Liz’s baby blue Gremlin and switched off the engine. It was early. They were probably still having breakfast. I eyed the window boxes and the front door. It seemed impossible that, after two years, Debbie was just the other side of that piece of wood. I must have looked as wild-eyed as a mustang because Allie leaned over, took my face between her hands and looked me in the eyes.
“She’s waiting for you. Go get your little girl,” she told me.
And when the door opened, Debbie peeked out from behind an astonished Liz.
“Mommy,” she murmured to herself, almost as though she had been expecting someone else, someone better. But she ducked under Liz’s arm and threw herself at me hard enough to make me stagger backwards. I lifted her up and gripped her hard against me, closing my eyes with relief. She smelled the same, was only a little heavier, but her newly lanky seven year old legs meant that her toes now reached just below my knees.
“Debbie,” I said into her curls. “Debbie, Debbie, Debbie. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, Mommy. But Granny Liz said you'd come and you did.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Liz. She was smiling and her face was wet with tears. And that was when I realised I was crying too.
፨፨፨
We stayed in Phoenix just long enough to tidy up Liz and Debbie’s loose ends, get new ID for us all from a contact of mine and fake plates for the vehicles. There was no sign of pursuit from Marie Winter but, after last time, I was taking no chances. Liz could have stayed behind. I had already disrupted her life once and felt it would be safe enough for her to stay in Phoenix. But there was no way Liz and Debbie could be parted.
Once we were ready, we set out for Denver. It was the last place Liz had heard of Franky from. We had no idea if she was still there but I had an urge to gather everyone important to me into one place. And Denver was as good as the next city for throwing off the scent and losing ourselves amongst hundreds of thousands of other people.
We rented a house big enough for all of us but Maxi elected to sleep in the camper, parked out back. She valued her privacy, she said. I got Debbie enrolled in school, Liz followed up leads on Franky and I got a job. Not because we needed the money but so that we seemed less strange to the neighbours. Besides, I couldn’t bear to be unoccupied. I loved being with Debbie but, while she was at school, hanging around the house made me crazy. I would never be a housewife again.
Nor a fixer.
The guns went into a safe and the rest of us went similarly legit. Boomer, or Susan Jenkins as she was now known, got a job at a gas station. One of the mechanics there took a shine to her and started to teach her how to fix cars. Maxi became the classy sounding Maxine Conway and began working as a volunteer at the local hospital. Liz toyed with becoming Elizabeth Wentworth, thinking it sounded glamorous, but Debbie campaigned hard for the last name Big Bird, pointing at Liz’s hair and laughing. Birdsworth was the compromise they came to. Allie took the last name Novak, to celebrate a new chapter in her life. She threw herself into looking after Debbie and helping Liz and, though I knew she was capable of so much more - of anything she put her mind to - I didn't care. We had plenty of time to work out what came next.
The other role Allie threw herself into was that of being the girlfriend of Bea Smith. Yes, Debbie and I were Smiths now, a name I hoped was anonymous enough to keep Marie’s lowlifes from tracing us. And with Aunt Barb dead and buried, Allie was free to tease me and flirt with me all day long. And at night … Well, let's just say I wasn't as quiet as I used to be.
፨፨፨
On that Monday evening, after my terrible, boring day of work and my extra large serving of spinach, Liz sat us all down and told us the latest.
“She moved to Sante Fe,” she said glumly. Boomer swore under her breath.
“Santa Fe!” I exclaimed. “What’s in Santa Fe?”
“A woman, apparently,” Liz replied with a shrug. I scoffed.
Maxi murmured, “Of course.”
“Where’s Santa Fe?” Debbie asked.
“New Mexico, love,” Liz replied.
“Mexico! Can we go to Mexico?” she asked in excitement.
“New Mexico,” I corrected her. “Not the same thing at all.”
“So, what do we do now?” Allie asked.
“Bea?” Liz asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno. Vote, I guess.”
“A show of hands,” Maxi suggested. Debbie’s hand shot up like a rocket, always keen for new adventures. Others followed more tentatively.
Boomer hesitated, obviously thinking about her man at the gas station. But Maxi’s hand was up so Boomer’s was too. Allie looked at me placidly.
“I go where you go,” she said matter of factly. I sighed and raised my hand. Allie raised hers too.
So, it was unanimous. We were going to Santa Fe.
Fucking Franky.