John Locke: Bad Doctor

Still in the car with the doors locked, Cameron says, “We’ll never speak of this again, no matter what. If something happens and the police put us in separate interrogation rooms, we won’t flip on each other.”

“They always lie and say the other person ratted you out.”

“But we won’t flip on each other.”

“No.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear. Now you.”

“I swear.”

They sit in the car a minute, thinking about what they’ve done.

Then Willow says, “Chris Fowler.”

“What about him?”

“He’ll know we did it.”

“He won’t have any reason to suspect us,” Cameron says.

“He will. Last night was a big deal. He’ll come home, find his wife murdered, see the safe open. He’ll wonder who would do such a thing.”

“Us?”

Willow nods.

“So?”

“He knows where we work.”

Cameron thinks a minute, then says, “He won’t want to admit what happened last night.”

“He’ll have to. He’s the prime suspect.”

“Not if he’s got a great alibi. He’s at work, right? Wherever that is, there must be a dozen people who can vouch for his whereabouts.”

“If they can establish a proper timeline.”

“They always-oh shit!” Cameron says.

“What now?”

Willow turns to her left just in time to see Bobby smash his fist against her window.

She screams.

“Get out!” He shouts. “Right now. Both of you!”

Cameron says, “Drive away, Willow.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. He’s bombed out of his mind. Drive away and wait till he crashes. He’ll probably forget the whole thing.”

Bobby punches the window again. “Lower the fucking window!”

“No!” Willow shouts. “Not till you calm down!”

“Lower the window now!”

“Not till you calm down. You’re totally wasted. I’m getting out of here.”

She looks into the rear view mirror, reaches her hand toward the steering column to put the car in reverse, but he punches the window twice.

“Stop it!” Willow yells. “You’re going to break your hand!”

“You’re worried about his hand?” Cameron says. “ Jesus, Willow!”

“Lower the fucking window!” Bobby shouts.

“Not till you calm down!”

He pauses. “Okay. Okay, fine,” he says. “I’m calming. I’m calming.”

The girls watch Bobby relax his posture, then his facial features, until he looks like a demented choirboy.

“I liked him better the other way,” Cameron says.

“See how I live?” Willow says.

She lowers the window two inches and says, “What the fuck was that all about?”

“I need a ride.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I borrowed a guy’s car.”

“What guy?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Willow unlocks the doors, Bobby climbs in the back, behind her.

She says, “ Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Well, I’ve got your money.”

“You’ve been gone all day.”

“I was trying to score some blow for you.”

“Where is it?”

“I couldn’t find Chuckie. We looked everywhere.”

“Right. Just start the car and drive where I tell you.”

“Forgetting something?” Cameron says. “I live here. See you later, Willow.”

She reaches for the door handle, but Bobby grabs her by the hair.

She kicks and screams, but he works his other hand around her throat to cut off her air.

Willow shouts, “Let her go!”

With one quick motion Bobby pulls Cameron into the back seat and punches her face.

“You bastard!” Cameron gasps.

She hits him back, splits his lip.

“Bitch!” Bobby yells, and smashes her temple.

Cameron’s head bounces off the window. Her body goes slack.

Willow shouts, “What are you doing? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“ Wrong with me? Wrong with me? If you don’t start the car and drive where I tell you, I’ll snap her chicken neck right now.”

Willow starts the car and waits for Bobby’s directions.

“Drive to Ream’s Park,” he says.

Ream’s is a neighborhood park, less than a mile from Cameron’s house. Bobby tells Willow to park behind the worker’s shed, next to the black Mercedes. The one that looks exactly like Chris Fowler’s, except for the rental tags.

“Is Cameron okay?”

“Don’t worry about Stringbean,” Bobby says. “She’s coming to. And when she does you better tell her to keep her mouth shut.”

Looking at him in the mirror, this Bobby seems more reasonable than the one who tried to smash her window. But the crazed look in his eyes concerns her.

“Why’d you hit Cameron?”

“Cut the engine and hand me the keys.”

She does.

“What now?”

“We’re changing rides.”

“The Mercedes?”

“Yeah, that’s right. We’re moving up in the world, baby!”

Do they even rent Mercedes sedans? They must, she decides, since this one’s clearly a rental. But Bobby didn’t rent it. He has no credit. He said he borrowed it from a guy. If true, why would he stash it here and walk to Cameron’s house?

He wouldn’t. Unless it was stolen.

“What’s going on here, Bobby?”

“We’re about to have an adventure. Soon as Cameron’s up for it.”

It takes five minutes for Cameron to get lucid, and when she is she’s mad as a wounded wolverine. She and Bobby get into a slapping and yelling match that ends when he punches her forehead and knocks her semi-conscious.

He cocks his fist to hit her again, but Willow purposely interrupts his train of thought by asking, “Who’s car is that?”

“Huh? What?”

“Who’s Mercedes is that?”

“I told you. I borrowed it from a friend.”

“What friend?”

“Guy I met at Shady’s last night.”

“What is he, a drug dealer?”

A strange look comes over Bobby’s face, like he just remembered he’s the one supposed to be angry here. Angry and in charge.

He says, “Get your ass out of the car, Willow.” He looks at Cameron. “You too, Stringbean.”

Willow looks at Cameron. She’s trying to mouth something. Trying to get Willow to read her lips. She’s…

Gun.

She’s mouthing the word “gun.”

Willow has Bobby’s gun in her purse.

She shakes her head.

Like she’s supposed to what, pull a gun on crazy Bobby? He’ll rip it out of her hands and pistol-whip them both.

“Now!” Bobby says.

Willow opens the door, gets out, then leans back in.

“What about my car? I can’t leave it here.”

“We’ll get it later.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. We’re having a sleepover.”

The girls share a quick look of panic.

“I’ve got some things in the trunk,” Willow says.

“What sort of things?”

“Bedding.”

“ What?”

“I’ve got some bedding in the trunk.”

“You mean like sheets and shit?”

“Yeah. And a blanket. And pillow cases.”

“So?”

“I need them.”

“What’re you, nuts?”

“I’m not leaving without them.”

“ What?”

“Or my vacuum cleaner,” Cameron says.

“Your what?”

“That’s right,” Willow says. “I’ve got bedding, Cameron has a vacuum cleaner. In the trunk. We need them.”

Bobby’s practically delirious from the speedball. He knows his brain’s all over the place. Nevertheless, he’s positive he’s not dreaming.

“We don’t have room for bedding and a vacuum cleaner. You’ll have to leave them here.”

“No!” Willow says.

“Don’t you tell me no!” Bobby yells, and launches a fist toward Willow’s face. She easily avoids it, backs out of the car and dashes around the front.