Alan Cook - Honeymoon for Three

Penny didn’t want to get in. She didn’t want to die in a car accident any more than she wanted to die by a knife or a gun. If she ran into the woods right now, was Alfred in good enough shape to chase her? She was afraid he was. She really didn’t have any choice in the matter.

She went to the right side of the camper. She couldn’t open the passenger door because the door lock was still taped down. The damage from the tree had bent the frame slightly. It might not be possible to open it even if the tape were removed. She tried the sliding door, but that was also locked. She went back to the driver’s side and told Alfred.

“Climb over me.”

Why should she have to climb over him? “Get up and unlock the sliding door. Or get out and let me get in this door.”

He again told her to climb over him. He wasn’t about to move from his seat. Was he that badly hurt, or did he think that she would drive off, either with him or without him? She had been considering doing just that. Could he read her mind?

Exasperated, Penny climbed over him. It wasn’t easy. She considered accidentally elbowing his wound but decided that would only make him angrier. Instead, she brushed her breasts across his face to see how he would react. He didn’t react at all. With grim satisfaction she planted herself in her seat.

She hoped he wouldn’t kill them both. She said, “I suggest you use first or second gear to let the engine help hold the speed down.”

Alfred started off slowly, but soon he was going faster and had to brake almost continuously. Penny saw that he was in third gear. She told him to downshift into second. He ignored her. She held on for dear life as they bounced down the hill, on the razor’s edge of control. This was a lot scarier than the Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland. She hoped the brakes wouldn’t fail.

By the time they reached a level section close to Route 1, Penny was mentally promising sacrifices to the gods in exchange for her life. Alfred stopped the camper, and she had a chance to compose herself. He shut off the engine and took the key. The battery had regenerated enough to start the camper now. His forehead was still bleeding a little, giving him the look of an injured combatant, but he seemed to be in possession of his faculties.

He got up and looked in the storage cabinet. What was he doing?

“What are you looking for?”

“Duct tape.”

The roll of duct tape was under her sweater. What did he want it for? Was he going to tape her legs? Should she play dumb? She didn’t want her legs taped. He looked at her, accusingly. If he searched her, he would want to know why she had the tape. And if he got suspicious and went outside the camper, he might find the sign.

She figured it was better to have her legs taped than to have him find the sign. When he looked in the storage cabinet again, she quickly pulled the roll of tape out from under her sweater and placed it on the floor just behind her seat.

She let Alfred search for a few more seconds. Then she got up, saying, “I’ll help you look.”

She scanned the inside of the camper with her eyes, as if she were looking for the tape. Then she picked the roll of tape up from the floor. “Here it is. It must have fallen to the floor and rolled behind the seat.”

Alfred looked dubious, but he took the tape from her.

“Get on the bed.”

“What? I’m the navigator.” She hadn’t figured on this. Hadn’t she won his trust?

“We have to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and pay a toll. I’ll release you after we go through San Francisco.”

“After all I’ve done for you? Do you remember last night…?”

“I’m sorry. I have to do it.”

He sounded contrite. She was prepared to argue, to go into detail about what they had done last night, talk until he gave in. But the first thing he taped was her mouth. He obviously didn’t want to hear about his shortcomings in bed. And this wasn’t the time to let him know that she could talk with her mouth taped.

Penny was raging. If she had known he would make her lie on the bed, she wouldn’t have produced the roll of tape. She lay on her back and kept her legs ramrod straight. She placed her hands together in front of her, hoping he would tape them in front rather than behind her. Then he couldn’t tape her hands to her legs.

It worked. He didn’t try to turn her over. He taped her hands in front. He covered her with a blanket, including her head. He did feel sorry about what he was doing to her. She had won a small victory.

It was difficult for Gary to keep his concentration. After several hours, he was sure he had missed a car or two. He just hoped he hadn’t missed Penny. He had to go to the bathroom, but he was afraid if he deserted his post for even five minutes, it would be the wrong five minutes.

He had climbed over the guardrail and now leaned against a telephone pole on the cliff side of it, mainly because he didn’t trust the drivers of the cars coming around the curve. They cut it too close. A blue house beside him sat right on the edge of the cliff. It had a square turret with large windows that overlooked the bay. He saw a man look at him from a window, but nobody approached him on foot. The road was too narrow for walking here.

Saturday morning traffic was moderately heavy. Families were heading for the coast to enjoy a late summer camping weekend. Typical of the weekend crowd was the Volkswagen camper that had just come into view. Gary glanced at the driver, just to keep in practice. He immediately became alert. The driver looked familiar-was it Alfred? If so, there was something different about him. Something about his forehead. Nobody was sitting beside him.

Gary spun his head around as the camper went by, trying to read the license plate. There was a sign taped to the back, so he switched his attention to that. He had time to read the word “Penny.” The word below it might be “Alfred.” Penny and Alfred. It was a signal from Penny. She was inside the camper.

Gary ran for his car, his heart beating fast. He couldn’t lose the camper. He came up to the Beetle, breathless, fumbled with the door lock, jumped in, started it, and raced after Alfred. By now the camper was out of sight and several cars were between them. He fumed as he crawled along in the traffic, until he got out of the village of Bodega Bay and was able to speed up.

He had to pass the cars ahead of him, and it was difficult to pass on the narrow and winding road, which was now heading inland, away from the coast. He drove more aggressively than he had ever driven. He passed cars on blind curves. He was doing this for perhaps the third time when a logging truck came around the corner in his lane, heading straight toward him.

The truck filled his field of vision. Gary’s first thought was that the truck wasn’t supposed to be there. He instinctively braked hard, even as he had this thought. He started skidding, but he was able to duck behind the car he had been passing. He released the brake and struggled to keep his car under control. He used the experience gained from driving on icy streets in Western New York while growing up. It was touch-and-go, but he felt the tires grab just as he was afraid he would go off the road.

He was shaking with fear and relief, but he didn’t dare stop while he calmed down. He had the camper in sight now, and he had to stay where he could see it. He realized that his instincts had saved him, not the thinking part of his brain. Thank God or Darwin or whoever for instinct.

He became much more cautious, but after a few minutes, he had a chance to pass the car ahead of him safely. Now he was directly behind the camper. He pulled up close to it and read the sign again. Yes, it definitely said “Penny” and “Alfred.”