“Mom?” His eyelids fluttered.
She wanted to cry for him. Big kids were just little kids at heart. “No, hon, I’m not your mom. I’m Marnie, remember? We’re giving you a ride?”
“Marnie?”
“Yes, that’s right. We met at the restaurant.”
“Oh yeah.” Max looked around and then yawned loudly. “What are we doing here?”
“Just stopping to use the bathrooms. You might want to get out and stretch your legs.”
“Okay.” He unbuckled his seat belt, and she stepped away from the car to let him pass.
On the other side of the building a truck revved its engine and turned on its headlights. Her eyes followed its movement as it turned out of the lot and lumbered toward the on-ramp. Next to her, Max stretched and leaned lazily against the car. She told him, “I’m going to use the ladies’ room, and I was thinking we could meet back here in a few minutes and then give your mom a call before it gets too late. I know you said she knows, but I would feel better if I talked to her myself. You understand, I’m sure,” she said, apologetically. “It’s a mom thing. I can only imagine how I’d feel if my son was out in the world, being driven by complete strangers. I mean, we’re perfectly fine people, but she has no way of knowing that.” Max regarded her blankly. She opened her purse and rummaged around until she located her wallet. “Now I want to give you some change, and if there’s a vending machine, you get yourself whatever you want.” She unzipped the coin compartment and stuck two fingers into the narrow opening. She was aware of Max standing nearby, waiting expectantly, but she was so focused on retrieving quarters that she didn’t notice he’d moved closer until he was right up against her. When his hand grabbed her arm, and she felt something hard and sharp pressed against her side, she reflexively tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. “Ow, stop it,” she said, twisting but not getting free.
“Give me the keys,” he said, and his voice was guttural and deep, not at all like it had been before.
“Max, what are you doing?” she cried out, thinking this had to be a mistake. Maybe he’d had a bad dream in the car and was confused. Perhaps he’d become afraid and thought she meant him harm. Anything but what she saw now—his eyes, once friendly and warm, were narrow and menacing. The pressure of his hand on her arm was unbearable.
“Lady, just give me the damn keys. The wallet too.” It was a voice out of a horror movie. “I will cut you. I swear to God I will slice you up.”
She glanced down and saw that he held a knife against her side. The reality of the situation hit her all at once, and she talked frantically, pleading with him. “Please, Max, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. You don’t want to do this.”
Max pushed the knife up against her body and she cried out in pain. He pulled at her purse, yanking it out of her hands. She couldn’t believe how strong he was. He shoved her aside and she fell backward against the side of the car, her head snapping back from the impact. He was emptying her purse now, throwing all of her possessions on the pavement. It all came out: her lip gloss, Kleenex, floss, emergency granola bar, some extra earrings, pens, hotel receipts. “Why do you have all this crap?” he muttered, half to himself. She noticed he had the knife under one arm now. It looked to be eight or ten inches, including the handle. A hunting knife? It occurred to her that she could try to rush him and get her purse back but she didn’t. It was too risky.
“Please don’t,” Marnie said weakly. Her side felt wet. Instinctively she touched it with the opposite hand and found her fingertips covered with blood. He’d cut her. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Crazed at not finding the keys, he turned the purse upside down and shook it. Out came some loose coins, her garage door opener, and finally her cell phone, which skittered and bounced, landing on the pavement eight feet away. “Where the hell are they?” he screamed. He came at her, the knife in hand. Marnie tried to move away from the car, but her legs weren’t working right and he had a hold of her again, gripping her with a terrifying ferocity. So this is how it all ends, she thought, her heart pounding wildly. What a stupid way to die. And she’d never really lived in the first place.
“I need the keys,” he screamed at her, and she felt the tip of his knife against her stomach.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Honest, I—” A sudden deafening blast like a sonic boom came from nearby, startling her. Max let go of her arm and reared back, and both of them looked over to see Laverne heading toward them, a gun in her hand aimed at the sky.
“You gotta be kidding,” he said.
“Get away, you punk,” Laverne said, walking so quickly that her purse, looped over her bent arm like she was the Queen Mum, swung madly.
“Lady, mind your own damn business.”
Laverne waved the gun with authority. As guns went, it was on the small side, although clearly it made a big noise. “I mean it.”
He scoffed. “You’re not going to shoot me. Give me a break.” Marnie became aware of people peering out from the open door of the building.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been wanting to shoot someone for the longest time.” She gestured to Marnie. “Come over here by me.” And Marnie did as she was told, her hand clutched to her side. She stood next to Laverne with relief, the realization hitting her that she wasn’t going to die that day.
“Look, old woman, I don’t have time for this. I’m taking the car.”
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” Laverne said, and extended her arm so the gun was aimed right at him. He gave her the finger and then leaned over to pick up Marnie’s purse. Laverne lowered the gun and pulled the trigger. Boom!
“Jesus!” he screamed, and fell over, almost in slow motion, then rocked back and forth, clutching his leg. “You shot me, you crazy bitch.”
“You shot him,” Marnie said, dazed. “I can’t believe you shot him.” How had all of this happened during a quick stop to go to the bathroom? She had the sense that when she turned onto the exit ramp she’d left real life and entered a movie.
Laverne tipped her head to one side. “I warned him. You heard me warn him, right?”
Marnie nodded. Laverne had warned him all right.
“And he gave me the finger. I hate that. There’s no reason to be doing that.” She leaned over Max, who was now crying and clutching his leg. “You shouldn’t have given me the finger. That was rude.” She reached down and grabbed something off the pavement. “Hey, Marnie, I found your phone!”
“I can’t believe you shot me. Jesus!”
Laverne reached over to Marnie and tentatively touched her side. “It looks like you’re bleeding.”
“He cut me.” Marnie had to push the words out. Just looking at the blood made her woozy. “With a knife.”
A man moved tentatively out of the building and then, deciding it was all clear, walked toward them. “Is everything okay?” he called out. He wore khaki shorts and a polo shirt like a suburban dad about to start up the grill. “Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re going to need an ambulance,” Laverne said matter-of-factly, putting the gun in her purse. “We got a man who’s been shot and a woman with a knife wound.”
On the ground Max, angry and in pain, wailed, “I need help here! Someone call 911.”
Marnie looked from Laverne to Max, and to the half dozen people rushing toward them seemingly from out of nowhere. Everyone and everything began to spin and blend together. Dizzy, she staggered back against the side of the car, slid to the ground, and landed on her butt with a jolt.
And then everything went black.
Chapter Forty
When Marnie came to, she was on a gurney in the back of an ambulance with an oxygen mask strapped to her face. Even without looking she knew that her shirt had been sliced open to expose her wounded side. A young paramedic who looked like a teenage boy held her wrist and gingerly took her pulse. A woman crouched down next to her was doing something to the cut under her rib cage. Marnie felt the gentle pressure of so
mething soft up against her side. The young man noticed her fluttering eyelids. “Welcome back,” he said. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”
“Where’s Laverne?” she asked. She feared the worst, which was that they’d dragged her off to jail, or that Laverne, now that she’d discovered the power of the gun, had shot someone else in the meantime.
The paramedic, his name tag said he was Dave, leaned over her and lifted the mask off her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
She swallowed and repeated the question, and he smiled. “Don’t worry about your stepmother. She has to answer some questions for the police. Once that’s cleared up, she’ll meet up with you at the hospital.” Marnie wondered about the stepmother reference, but she was too out of it to pursue the topic. Apparently, someone was mixed up somewhere. It didn’t really matter.
The rest of the ride was a blur, as was getting checked in at the hospital. Laverne, at least, had the presence of mind to send her purse along with her, so she had identification and her insurance card. Sitting up in the ER and rummaging through her purse, she unzipped a side compartment and came across her car keys. She’d nearly lost her life because Max couldn’t find them, and they’d been there the whole time. Unbelievable.
The cut in her side was not as big as she’d thought. “You lost a fair amount of blood,” the doctor who cleaned the wound said, “but it’s not serious. You’ll definitely have a scar.” He advised her to see a plastic surgeon if she wanted that taken care of, but she couldn’t imagine that she would. No one would ever see that part of her body again. Although on second thought, having a scar from a knife wound could be a pretty impressive badge of honor. What I did on my summer vacation, she thought dryly.
The ER wasn’t that big, and she heard snippets of what was happening to Max from the other side of the partition. When she first arrived, she heard him saying loudly, “And then out of nowhere, the old woman took out a gun and shot me. Out of freaking nowhere! I didn’t do nothing to her. Crazy-ass old woman.” Someone shushed him, and eventually he was wheeled out of that room.
“Is he going for surgery to remove the bullet?” she asked.
“No, it was just a flesh wound,” a nurse told her. “The bullet went through his calf and passed through. He’ll be treated and turned over to the police.”
Marnie was cleaned and stitched, and moved from the ER to a regular room on the third floor. It was a stark room but spotlessly clean and she didn’t have to share it with another patient. She had her own bathroom too. Having been given a shot of something, she felt no pain. She rested comfortably in bed, her body relaxed, but her mind racing. Her thoughts were more erratic than they’d ever been. She could barely keep track of all the people coming in and out of her room, checking her chart, asking her questions. At one point, a young man whom she’d noticed mopping outside her door earlier came in with a woman’s V-necked T-shirt. She thought he was Filipino or maybe Hmong, she never was good at differentiating different ethnicities, not that she’d admit that to anyone. It would make her sound racist, and she wasn’t. His name tag, which identified him as “George” didn’t narrow it down. He was, she decided, just another American originally from somewhere else. George held up the gray T-shirt and said, “For you?” She shook her head, thinking he was trying to find the owner. “Not mine,” she said.
“No,” he said and gestured in a searching way. “From Lost and Found. You keep. To go home.”
Now she understood. From the paramedics, to the doctors and nurses—all of them had been so concerned, so caring. They milled around her and fussed over her injury. And now this man, someone she didn’t even know, had thought ahead to what she might wear when she left. He had nothing to gain by giving her a T-shirt. She was touched by his innate goodness. It helped to offset the shock of finding evil in Max. People could surprise you. “Thank you,” she said, taking it from him. After he left the room, she held it up and gave it a good looking over. It was enormous, and smelled strongly of powdered laundry detergent. But still, Marnie was grateful to have it.
By the time Laverne showed up, escorted by a police officer, a world of things had happened. “Hey there, gal,” Laverne said cheerfully, shuffling into the room. “How you feeling?”
“Pretty good,” Marnie said, pushing the button on the bed until she was sitting upright. It was true, she felt pretty good, in a loopy and otherworldly sort of way. Since the drugs kicked in, she’d felt herself to be on a different spiritual plane and found she understood more of life than other people did, maybe even in the entire history of the world. The young officer who accompanied Laverne was handsome in a fresh-from-the-academy sort of way. Just a youngster. With her now heightened sensitivity she could tell that he loved the excitement of his job. By the courteous way he led Laverne into the room, she knew he loved his mother and grandmother. His hair was cropped short, even around the ears and base of the neck, leading her to believe he took his role in the community seriously. You could tell so much from paying attention. It wouldn’t be much more of a step for her to become psychic like Jazzy.
She’d been staring at the young cop for so long that when he spoke it seemed like a statue come to life. He said, “I’m just going to have to ask you a few questions.” He started with the easy things—name, address, date of birth—then launched into questions about what had happened at the rest stop. He phrased those questions so that she only had to confirm Laverne’s story. Was it true, he asked, that Max was charging at Laverne with the knife when she shot him?
Marnie hesitated and looked at Laverne, who said, “She was down on the ground, so she might not a seen it happen.” The cop nodded and added that to his report. It wasn’t technically true, but she didn’t correct Laverne. She could tell the police officer needed a different truth, the kind of truth that would put the matter to rest in just the right way.
“It all happened so fast,” Marnie said. Her head was muzzy and she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Maybe Max had lunged at Laverne when she’d been on the ground. Anything was possible.
“And he said he was going to kill you?” He paused and looked up at her.
Marnie thought. “He said he was going to slice me up.” Her ears still held the echo of his voice saying the words. She’d been nothing but kind to Max. How could he have turned on her? Worse yet, how could she have misjudged him so? “He pushed the knife into my side and said he was going to slice me up.”
Laverne interjected, “Isn’t that the same thing, really? I mean, you felt like your life was in danger, right, Marn?”
She nodded. “I thought I was going to die, right then and there.”
“You ladies really shouldn’t be picking up hitchhikers. First of all, it’s illegal. Secondly, it’s very dangerous,” the officer said firmly. “At your age, you shouldn’t have to be told that.”
“Do I get my gun back?” Laverne asked.
“No, you do not,” he said. “You’re lucky we’re not charging you with anything.”
“Okay,” Laverne said in resignation, and then to Marnie, “Who would have thought I’d go my whole life without even a parking ticket, and today I shoot a guy and help the police catch a criminal?” She pressed a hand on Marnie’s knee. “Turns out he’s not a kid at all. He’s eighteen and he was wanted, can you imagine that?”
“Wanted?”
“There was a warrant out for his arrest,” the police officer explained. “It makes the case easier. Between that and the witnesses saying it was self-defense, it’s fairly cut-and-dried.”
“So we can go?” Laverne said. “Because we really need to get to Las Vegas.”
“You can go, but you might be called back to testify at some point in the future. Although it’s highly unlikely,” he added, more to himself than anything else.
“We can always come back, right, Marnie?”
“Sure,” Marnie said, but she had no intention of coming back here ever again. She wasn’t entirely sure where she w
as right now, if the truth be told. All she knew was that she was in a hospital more than a thousand miles from home. She’d dropped down a rabbit hole and into an alternate existence. It had been fun for a while, but now she wanted to be finished. A few days of fast food and gas stops and endless driving had been bad enough, but now, having endured being threatened and cut, she was tired and hurt and shaken to the core. Perhaps the universe was telling her this trip was a mistake. She wanted nothing more than to go home. Once she made it past her front door, she’d drop her suitcase and crawl into bed, not coming out until right before school started. If then.
“You ladies take care,” he said, giving Laverne’s shoulder a squeeze. “Have a safe trip.”
“Such a nice young man,” Laverne said, after he’d left the room. They heard the receding click of his shoes as he went down the hall.
Marnie waited until he was out of earshot to ask, “So where did you get the gun?”
“It was my husband’s. I always keep it in my handbag.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Never thought I’d need it, but boy oh boy, it sure came in handy today.”
“I’d say so,” Marnie said. “Things might have gotten far worse without it.”
“So gal, what’s the good word from the doctor?” Laverne asked, settling into the chair next to the bed.
“He said the cut wasn’t too bad, although it hurt like nobody’s business and it bled a lot. I was lucky that the knife only went through the skin and into a layer of fat,” Marnie said. For the first time, she was thankful for having a little extra fat. “They’re keeping me overnight for observation. The test results came out fine, but they want me checked out tomorrow morning before they release me.”
The Long Way Home Page 19
