by Alan Cook
He opened his glove compartment and pulled out a picture of Penny. He had cut it out of their high school yearbook and pasted it on a piece of cardboard. She was wearing a cheerleader uniform consisting of a sweater and skirt, with a large F on the front of the sweater. One of her hands was raised high in the air, and she was smiling at him.
As he gazed at the black-and-white picture, Alfred saw it in color. Penny’s skirt was light blue, and her sweater was yellow. The F on the sweater was the same blue as the skirt. The green grass of the football field filled the background. Penny’s cheeks were pink, and her smile enticed Alfred and told him she belonged to him. His hand went under his shirt and played with his bellybutton. This went on for several minutes until reality interfered, in the form of bodily needs.
He desperately had to pee, and he was thirsty and starving. Leaving his car in the lot, now almost empty, he walked across the street to a restaurant. It wasn’t busy, so he was able to get a booth all to himself after he went to the restroom. He ordered a hamburger and iced tea and contemplated his next move. How many apartment buildings were there in Monterey Park—one hundred? Two hundred? Or more? How could he narrow it down?
What had Penny told her roommate about Gary’s apartment at their Sunday morning breakfasts, other than the location? Think, Alfred. He sipped his tea and tried to think. The rays of the late August sun had heated the interior of his car, making him sleepy, and numbing his brain. He had been sitting in a solar oven.
He concentrated on the Sunday morning restaurant setting and conjured up Penny’s voice. Hadn’t she said one time that Gary lived in a new building? Alfred had brought a map of the East Los Angeles area into the restaurant. He laid it flat on the table of his booth and focused on Monterey Park. How many streets would he have to cover looking for a new apartment building?
***
Alfred drove south on Atlantic Avenue, feeling the agony of defeat. He couldn’t remember how many new-looking apartment buildings he had stopped at, how many parking lots he had walked through, how many streets in front of apartments he had paced, looking for either Penny’s car or Gary’s car. A few buildings had underground parking with locked gates in front of them. There was nothing he could do about them. However, he seriously doubted that Penny’s car would be parked underground since she was a visitor.
What else could he do? Hope was gone. Story of his life. He would return to Lomita and beg Keith for his job back. Keith would give it to him because he was a good worker. Maybe he could even get something going with Stephanie. Maybe Stephanie was just shy and that was the reason she didn’t talk to him. If he couldn’t win her with his looks, he would impress her with his personality.
He passed a building on his right that he hadn’t noticed before. It was on a hill above street level. It looked new, and it looked like an apartment building. Alfred swung a U-turn on the almost-deserted avenue and drove back to the intersection he had just gone through. The entrance to the building—or perhaps several buildings—was on the side street.
Alfred parked on the street and walked up the driveway into the complex. The gray stucco buildings had apartments on several levels, reached by outside stairways. He walked through the big parking area, dimly lit by a few spotlights. Most of the cars were parked under several long roofs. After ten minutes he spotted Gary’s car. He became excited. Then he calmed down. It was a small victory, but now he had to find Penny’s car. To make sure she was here with Gary. That took another ten minutes, but he found it, parked in the unreserved section.
His elation was short-lived. Now what should he do? There was no connection between parking slots and the apartments. He wasn’t even sure which building Gary’s apartment was in. There was only one thing he could do. Wait until they came out in the morning. If they were leaving on their trip, that might be early.
Alfred’s Timex said two-thirty. In the morning. Had he been searching that long? No wonder he was exhausted. His car was on the street near the only entrance to the parking area. He would sit in his car and wait for one of their cars to come out. Then he would follow it.
If he followed them and they were leaving on a trip, he would need some things. Clothes. A toothbrush. He couldn’t risk driving back to his apartment. That must be close to thirty miles one way. They might leave before he returned. Fortunately, he had all his money with him, hidden under his seat. He didn’t trust banks.
No, he had to wait here. He settled into his car, trying to get comfortable. Not too comfortable. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He opened the front window, letting in the cool night air. That would keep him awake.
CHAPTER 4
If the distinctive engine roar hadn’t jogged his brain, Alfred might have slept blissfully on. The harsh noise of the Volkswagen accelerating in first gear woke him with a jerk. As he struggled to open his rebellious eyes and sit up from the prone position he had slid into after failing in his effort to stay awake, he caught a glimpse of Gary’s car, headed down the short hill toward Atlantic Avenue.
Alfred fumbled for the key to his Ford, his hand shaking. It was in the ignition. He managed to grasp and turn the key, and he heard the engine crank and catch. Simultaneously, he adjusted his stiff limbs to the driver’s position, blinking his eyes to dissipate the mist in front of them.
He failed to check his rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb, but fortunately, nobody was approaching from behind at this early hour. As he started down the hill, he saw the green VW make a left turn onto Atlantic. Gary was heading north toward the San Bernardino Freeway. That just about clinched it. He and Penny had to be leaving on their trip. If Gary were going to his office at IBM, he would have turned right on Atlantic.
Alfred had to stop for the traffic light at Atlantic. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was barely six-thirty. The sun had been up for an hour, but it felt like the middle of the night. The odds were overwhelming that Gary was going to get on the freeway, but in which direction?
If they were traveling up or down the California coast, they would head west on the freeway. If they were going toward Phoenix, say, or Las Vegas, they would head east. Alfred remembered Penny’s mother saying that Penny wanted to visit national parks, like Yellowstone. Yellowstone was inland. That meant east.
Alfred had to make a quick decision, since he was approaching the freeway entrance and the green VW was nowhere in sight. He jogged onto the eastbound onramp and accelerated as he merged with the moderate morning traffic headed out of L.A. The cars were moving quickly. The powerful engine of his Ford enabled him to easily stay with the flow.
A Volkswagen had a top speed of what—about seventy miles per hour? By going seventy-five, Alfred should be able to catch it soon—assuming he had guessed right about Gary’s direction. If he had guessed wrong—well, he wouldn’t think about that.
Fifteen minutes later he spotted a green VW ahead, cruising in the second lane from the right. He had to make sure it was Gary’s car. He approached from two lanes to the left of it until he was close enough to read the license plate. Yup, it was the correct car. So far so good.
There was one more thing. He had to make sure that Penny was actually in the car. He dropped back and moved right three lanes. There was a gap in the traffic ahead of him, enabling him to close the distance to the VW again. He pulled up almost even with it until he could look in the right-side window.
He saw Penny’s profile, as pretty as a cameo. His heart soared; he had found her. He didn’t want her to take note of him or his car, so he dropped back again and assumed a position in the lane to the left of the VW and several hundred yards behind it. He could easily maintain surveillance from here, and his car blended in with all the other Fords on the road.
Alfred relaxed the intense concentration he had been forced into from the moment he had awakened. Then he began to be aware of other things. Number one, he had to go to the bathroom. Was this a problem that all detectives and spies faced? Number two, he needed to get gas. He should
have filled the tank yesterday, but it had slipped his mind.
Gary had one big advantage over him. The VW got excellent mileage. His boat got lousy mileage, as he’d found out when he’d driven it cross-country from Connecticut. His parents had given him the car several years ago. He had persuaded them to give him the same model that Penny had, although, of course, he hadn’t said that was the reason he wanted it. He had been thrilled with it at the time, but this mileage problem was a major shortcoming.
Alfred opened the glove compartment and drove with one hand while he found his map of California. He spread it out as well as he could and placed it on the steering wheel in front of him. If they were headed for the big national parks, what route were they likely to take? Shifting his eyes between the road and the map, he studied the possibilities.
The answer was Route 395, which went north out of San Bernardino. If they turned onto 395, they were probably going to be on it for a long time, and it would be safe for him to stop. He had to make sure. Would his gas last that long? Would his bladder hold that long?
By the time they entered San Bernardino, the gas gauge was tickling empty, and Alfred was in agony. He saw a sign to 395. Five miles to go. Four miles. Hold on. Not much longer. Three miles. When they were within a mile of the exit, the VW pulled into the right lane, ending the suspense. Yes, they were turning.
Alfred also pulled into the right lane, but well behind the other car. He took the cloverleaf exit and in a minute found himself heading north on 395. He looked frantically for a gas station and pulled into the first one he saw. He stopped the car with a screech of tires, opened the door, and sprinted toward the Men’s room.
***
“Have you ever been to Reno?” Penny asked.
Gary glanced at her, sitting beside him, wearing shorts and a white blouse. He was sure he was doing the right thing. She had gotten a permanent to curl her short, brown hair, which was blowing in the breeze entering through the partially open windows. Her inquisitive brown eyes matched the color of her hair. She looked desirable, but she was also smart and sensible. All in all, an ideal wife.
The car didn’t have air-conditioning, and the open windows helped to moderate the inside temperature, made warm by the still potent sun of the late August day. They were heading north and would soon encounter cooler weather.
“I’ve been to Reno once. My brother, Tom, and I drove through Reno on our vacation trip in nineteen-sixty-two. We stopped there for about twenty minutes. I won ten bucks playing blackjack. Then we drove on toward San Francisco where we were meeting friends. So I’m a lifetime winner in Reno.”
“Did you actually see any wedding chapels there?”
“I think so. There are wedding chapels in Las Vegas, so there must be some in Reno. It’s known as the divorce capital of the U.S. Don’t weddings and divorces go together?”
“Bite your tongue. Once we get married, it’s going to be forever.”
Gary hoped that was true. “Where a need exists, somebody’s going to supply what is needed. Since there’s a waiting period to get married in California, Nevada is filling the gap, so to speak.”
Penny was looking at the map. “It’s going to be dark before we get to the campground.”
“That’s all right. All we have to do is to put up the tent and unroll the sleeping bag.”
The double sleeping bag Penny and her two girlfriends had slept in when they had driven across the country two years before, fresh out of college. Gary liked the concept of a double sleeping bag.
***
How far were they going? Alfred hadn’t reckoned with the necessity of following them in the dark. Especially now that they had turned off 395 onto a smaller road that was curving its way through the mountains toward Lake Tahoe. He could see this from the signs, even though he could no longer read his map.
A while back they had entered Nevada on 395, but if they continued in this direction they would reenter California. That set Alfred’s mind at rest concerning one worry that had been bugging him. Apparently they weren’t going to get married tonight.
He passed a sign announcing that they had climbed to over 7,000 feet. Mountainous terrain. He hadn’t been this high since he had driven over the Continental Divide on his cross-country trip.
Following them in the dark and the hills and the curves was a much harder proposition than following them during daylight. During the day, when they had stopped to eat or get gas, he had stopped farther on, duplicating their activities, and watched for them from the window of one of the many mom-and-pop diners. He had gotten into a rhythm, sometimes driving behind them, sometimes ahead of them, but always knowing exactly where they were.
Now he had to stay much closer to them to make sure he was behind the correct set of taillights. The traffic was sparse, but another danger was that they would turn off and he would miss their turn because they were out of sight around a curve. He might sail right on by them. This closeness made the chances of them becoming suspicious of him much greater than it had been.
Alfred was right behind the VW when it turned left onto Route 50, trusting in the darkness to keep them from noticing his car. He dropped back a few yards and caught glimpses of Lake Tahoe on the right by the light of the moon. They drove through the resort city of South Lake Tahoe, mixing with enough other traffic to keep him on high alert.
The VW suddenly turned into what looked like a driveway. Alfred couldn’t afford to take this turn, but he strained to read a sign as he drove by. El Dorado Campground. He drove on around a curve, parked, and used the car’s interior light to read his watch. It was almost ten o’clock. It had been a long day. He was having a hard time staying awake.
As he waited five minutes to make sure they had checked in and driven away from the entrance, Alfred put his hand under his shirt and felt his bellybutton. His outie bellybutton. If it had been an innie, his life might have turned out differently. He might have been the person in the car with Penny. He might be sleeping with her tonight. He might be….
Rage expanded inside him, like steam from a teakettle. His body vibrated. Life was unfair. He became wide awake. He started the car and made a U-turn. The Ford had a wide turning radius, and he didn’t judge the distance correctly. He had to back up to complete the turn. When he was in reverse, a car came around the curve, traveling fast. Alfred didn’t have time to do anything. He watched, mesmerized, as the headlights seemed to drill right into him, but the car swerved at the last second as it roared by, its horn blaring.
Now his shaking was from terror. He pressed the gas pedal, forgetting that his car was still in reverse. It flew backwards into the bushes alongside the road, narrowly missing a tree. He braked belatedly and finally got it into drive. The wheels spun for seconds. Then he surged forward with a squeal of tires, almost going off the road on the other side before he got the car under control.
He turned into the campground and stopped beside the office. He had to sit for several minutes until his bodily functions returned to a semblance of normalcy. He got out of the car. The first thing that registered was how cold the night air felt. It penetrated his sweatshirt and khaki pants. He was wearing all the clothes he had brought. He quickly entered the office to get warm.
***
When Alfred entered one of the campground restrooms, he remembered how poorly equipped he was. Not only was he underdressed, he also didn’t have a toothbrush or toothpaste. He hadn’t brushed his teeth for over thirty-six hours. He had to settle for rinsing his mouth out with water he sucked from a faucet by sticking his head into a sink and tilting his mouth up. He tried to remove the scum that coated his teeth with his tongue. He could imagine what his breath smelled like.
He didn’t have any shaving equipment either. Of course he was wearing a beard, but he was thinking that it might be better if he shaved it off. He had been in close proximity to Penny during those Sunday mornings in the café. If she saw him, she might recognize him by his beard.
He could sleep in his ca
r, lying across the bench seat. That wasn’t comfortable, as he knew from his experience last night, but the worst part was that he didn’t have any blankets. He would freeze his ass off. He couldn’t handle that prospect yet. He decided to find Penny’s campsite.
The campground was dark and silent. The inhabitants slept in their tents or campers. It was too cold and too dark for anybody to be outside drinking wine at one of the wooden picnic tables. Alfred used his flashlight sparingly and walked warily along the rough roads of the campground, trying not to run into one of the many tall evergreen trees, or step on a large pinecone, or, worst of all, come into contact with one of the bears that his imagination saw prowling at night, looking for food.
It was a large campground, and he wasn’t at all sure of his directions. He had the feeling that he was going over the same paths again and again. Just as he was about to give up and return to his car—assuming he could find it—he spotted the green VW. In the dark it looked black.
He had to make sure it was the correct car. He came right up to it and stooped in front of the license plate. He shone the flashlight on it, shielding it with his hand so its rays wouldn’t spread. This was Gary’s car, all right. Next to the car was a small tent. What he would call a pup tent. It must be the smallest tent in the campground, just big enough for two people. If they were friendly. That thought brought back Alfred’s rage.
He stood motionless, a few feet from the tent, and stared at its dark outline. When he looked directly at it, the fabric blended into the blackness of the night and disappeared. The way he would like to make Gary disappear.
He heard noises coming from inside the tent. Whispers. Soft giggles. Then grunts. A stifled shout. He knew what they were doing. He pictured Penny’s body, the way it had looked when he saw it from her window. Perfect. The body of a goddess. And that bastard was ravishing her.
