by Joe Humphrey
“What are you smiling at?” Caroline asked, poking Charlie in the side.
“I’m just trying to piece things together. How do you feel about Audrey Hepburn?” Charlie asked, turning in her seat. Caroline looked at her, pulling a toothy grin that was almost frightening.
“I love Audrey Hepburn,” Caroline said, her eyes glinting in the dark. “I like you, Charlie. You’re the bee’s knees.”
- 14 -
“Hey, mister!” Caroline called after the oversized bearded man in flannel and suspenders. He turned at the sound of her voice and clopping heals. Caroline strutted across the parking lot of the truck stop, looking remarkably out of place in her bright red polka-dot dress and little white gloves. And the sunglasses of course, always with the sunglasses.
“What can I do for you, honey?” the man asked, leaning against the cab of his truck, arms folded at his chest.
“I hate to bother you, but my daughter and I are in a bit of a pickle. Our car broke down a mile or so back and we were hoping you could give us a ride.” Caroline said, waving her sunglasses back in the general direction of Flagstaff. When she finished speaking, she popped the plastic tip at the end of the arm of her sunglasses in her mouth. It was a calculated, even obvious move, but it was surprisingly effective. The man in the flannel looked at the two of them, Charlie almost cowering behind Caroline. It had been nearly two weeks, and Caroline had taken her out several times to interact with people and get used to connecting with the world again, but this was the first time Caroline had brought her hunting. It was taking everything in her power to keep a smile on her face. She was terrified.
“You two always dress like the Patty Duke twins?” he asked, chuckling. Caroline burst out laughing and touched his arm.
“You are too funny!” she laughed, not answering his question. He looked up at the bright halogen lights that illuminated the parking lot for what seemed like minutes. He had the expression of a man remembering some long-forgotten dream. He shook it off and turned back to them.
“Sure thing, ladies. Hop in,” he said, opening the passenger door. Caroline turned back to Charlie and grinned.
“You heard the nice man, honey! Hop on up!”
Charlie climbed the steps into the warm cab of the truck. It was familiar in a way that didn’t make sense to her. Caroline climbed up behind her and slammed the door. The interior of the cab was far bigger than she expected. The passenger seat was massive, like a La-Z-Boy recliner. Both she and Caroline sat comfortably in the seat, though Caroline climbed over her to sit between Charlie and the stranger who was climbing up into the driver’s seat.
“Where are you girls headed?” the bearded man asked as he started the rig up.
“Wherever you are, honey,” Caroline said with a sly smile. The man looked at her sideways, trying to get a handle on where she was coming from.
“Well, I’m headed west on 40 to Barstow, then down to San Diego. I can take you anywhere you want between here and there,” he said in a matter-of-fact way that struck Charlie as surprisingly naive. She expected what was about to happen to unfold in a certain way. Some nervous part of her half expected him to jump on them as soon as they were in the cab.
“That sounds just fine to us, doesn’t it honey?” Caroline asked. After a second, Charlie realized she had been asked a question and nodded.
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to go to California,” she said, almost under her breath. The bearded man put the truck in gear and they rolled onto the interstate. The truth was she desperately wished they really were hitchhiking to Barstow or San Diego. She didn’t want to be doing what they were going to do. This seemed like a nice man and she had no desire to hurt him.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” the man asked, pulling a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his shirt pocket and rolling down the window.
“Not at all. Do you mind if we smoke?” Caroline asked, pulling her own cigarettes out of her purse. He smiled and nodded his approval. Charlie rolled their window down. The desert air was cold and biting and it felt nice to have an opening to the real world so close by.
“My name’s Bruce by the way,” he said, holding a hand out to them. Caroline took it and shook.
“Caroline, and this is my daughter,”
“Charlie,” Charlie said, reaching over and shaking his hand.
“Alright then. Caroline and Charlie. Dig it,” he said, tapping his cigarette ash into the wind.
“You have a bed in here!” Caroline said, looking over her shoulder at the bunk compartment behind them. Bruce nodded.
“A man’s gotta have a place to lay his head.”
“Do you ever take women in there?” Caroline asked, smiling. Charlie was stunned by her candor. Bruce laughed and held his massive hand up. A wedding ring glinted among the hair on his fingers.
“I doubt very much my wife would be happy about that,” Bruce said, laughing. Caroline laughed along with him.
“Probably not, Bruce! You’re right about that,” Caroline put a hand on his arm again. Charlie dropped her cigarette out of the window and rolled it up. Caroline looked at her and winked. Charlie shrugged.
“So what’s your deal, ladies? What’s going on exactly?” Bruce asked, breaking the awkward silence. Caroline laughed her fake laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s the endgame? I know you ain’t aiming to get to San Diego. I’m not hauling anything valuable to anyone but farmers, and I don’t have much in the way of cash on me. What exactly are we doing here?” Bruce cranked the wheel and pumped the brakes, pulling the rig over to the side of the road. Once it settled, he killed the engine and turned in his seat.
“You two got me really confused. If you were lookin’ to rob me, you would have done it back at the diner, where you could run off to your boyfriend’s car or whatever. If you were hookers, you would have just said so a long time ago. Your story doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s not just my magnetic personality. Now, I’ll take you wherever you want to between here and San Diego, but I need to know what’s going on. Are you running from something? Is that it?”
Caroline looked at him for a long moment, then spoke carefully and precisely.
“My daughter and I are in a bad situation with my man friend. He’s gone out of control and is threatening to kill us. I have family in California. I didn’t tell you because it’s shameful and because I don’t like to frighten Charlie.”
Caroline wiped a nonexistent tear from her cheek with the back of her gloved hand. Bruce nodded, looking out into the darkness, and handed her a handkerchief from his shirt pocket.
“I’ve known guys like that. Some dudes just aren’t fit to be around women and children. I’ll take you to California, no problem,” he said, and reached down between the seats with his hand and pulled up a wooden club, “and if he comes near you, I —”
That’s when Charlie started to scream. At the sight of the club, something inside of Charlie’s memory fractured. Animal instinct took over and Charlie pushed off of the door and scrambled over Caroline to get at Bruce. Caroline reacted in time to wrap her arm around Charlie’s neck and hold her back, but not before Charlie was able to kick her legs out and catch Bruce in the ribs.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Bruce bellowed, as she kicked him again.
“Stop it!” Caroline yelled into Charlie’s ear. Charlie didn’t register any of it. Her vision was a white sheet of panic. Charlie kicked again and caught Bruce in the wrist, knocking his hand with the club against the window, shattering it. Shattering his wrist as well. Bruce managed to get his door open and half climbed, half fall out of the cab.
“Jesus Christ!” he yelled as he stumbled away from the truck.
Caroline gripped Charlie by the hair and threw her against the passenger side door. Before Charlie had time to bounce, Caroline was on her, one arm across her throat, the other restraining her hands together between her legs.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Caroline yelled into Charli
e’s face. The southern lilt to her voice was entirely gone, though Charlie didn't notice.
Charlie was hysterical, screaming and crying and shaking her head. Caroline slapped her across the face, not hard but deliberately. Charlie stopped shaking and stared at her, eyes wide, her jaw clenched and shaking.
“Will you stop?!” Caroline asked her. Charlie nodded and Caroline let go. She collapsed onto the seat in a heap. Caroline looked at her for a moment, shaking her head. She turned around and saw the open driver’s side door and muttered under her breath. “Goddamn it all.”
Charlie looked up in time to see Caroline climb down through the driver’s side door. She looked back at Charlie one last time before going after Bruce. Charlie sat there for a moment, trying to pull her shit together. She was still crying and had absolutely no idea what just happened. A long line of snotty drool hung from her chin. She wiped her face on the hem of her dress and, finally, opened the passenger door and climbed down from the cab.
Bruce was half running, half tumbling down the side of the interstate and Caroline was walking after him, holding her patent leather shoes in her hand. He held his broken wrist against his chest and kept looking back at her.
“Stay away from me!” he screamed over his shoulder. “Stay away! You two are crazy!”
He held his side where Charlie kicked him. At least three of his ribs were cracked, along with his wrist. Caroline had heard the ribs snap. She stopped and placed her shoes on the side of the road and picked up her pace into a light jog. Given Bruce’s size (quite large, both in height and gut) and broken bones, she caught up to him in no time.
From where Charlie was walking behind them, she watched as Caroline jogged up and grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, and pushed him to the ground. She disabled him somehow, though Charlie wasn’t entirely sure what happened. When she got to where Bruce was sitting on the ground, she found Caroline squatting in front of him. It was a surprisingly unladylike stance for Caroline, but it was the only way she could get on his level without dirtying her dress. Bruce just sat there, staring at the ground, a stupid, blank expression on his face.
“What did you do to him?” Charlie asked. Caroline shot her a look that told her to shut up.
“I need you to get back up and go with us back to the truck. Do you understand me, Bruce?”
Caroline spoke to him as an impatient person might speak to a child.
“We’re going to go back to the truck and we’re going to talk this out.”
Bruce sat there, shaking his head. Tears were running down his face, reflecting the moonlight. Caroline looked at Charlie and nodded toward Bruce. When Caroline reached down and grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, Charlie did the same and they lifted him to his feet. He refused to support himself and they carried him, his feet dragging on the ground between them.
Like with the cooler, she was astonished at how easily she was able to carry this man, who must have weighed close to three hundred pounds. She could feel the weight and resistance, but there was no strain or ache in her muscles. When they got to where Caroline left her shoes, Charlie leaned over and scooped them up.
Once back at the truck, Charlie nearly dropped Bruce when she saw his club on the ground among the broken pieces of window glass. Caroline noticed this and marked it with a raised eyebrow and a look. Charlie averted her eyes.
Caroline climbed up into the cab through the driver’s door and reached down.
“Pass him up,” she said, holding her hands out. The idea seemed absurd to Charlie, yet she was able to grab Bruce (who seemed to be catatonic) under the arms and lift him to Caroline like he was a giant sleeping infant.
“Come on,” Caroline said from inside the cab. Charlie climbed up. Inside, she found that Caroline had Bruce laying on the modest little bunk set up behind the seats. She closed the doors and climbed between the seats and onto the bunk with Caroline and Bruce, who was on his back, staring at nothing.
“What are we going to do with him? Are we going to kill him?” Charlie asked, scared to say anything at all. Caroline looked at her for a long time.
“Do you think we should kill him? I’m really curious to know what exactly you think we should do with him,” she said, clearly pissed. Charlie felt panic rising inside her. Panic and an immense sense of sadness. She had disappointed Caroline and that was a feeling she wasn’t prepared to deal with.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to kill him. He was nice to us,” Charlie mumbled. Caroline nodded.
“Yes, he was. He was nice to us, and you went cuckoo and broke his wrist and his ribs. What the hell happened?!” she spat. Charlie recoiled as if slapped.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I don’t know. I saw that pipe and it hit a nerve or something. I don’t know!” she said, starting to cry again. Caroline looked at her, head cocked.
“It wasn’t a pipe; it was a club. Like a policeman’s club,” she picked up her purse from the floor between the seats.
“Give me your hand,” Caroline said. Charlie held her arm out, and before she had time to realize what was happening, Caroline produced a straight razor and slashed it across Charlie’s wrist. Charlie screamed, startled, and Caroline ducked down and put her mouth over the opening. Charlie was about to ask what she was doing when something wonderful happened.
- 15 -
Vanilla. Vanilla and popcorn. The taste welled up in her mouth, over her tongue, and into her nose. Her eyes involuntarily rolled back in her head and she sunk down onto the bunk, her head falling onto Bruce’s legs. Caroline sucked at the wound on Charlie’s wrist and she realized that she was on the receiving end of what she’d experienced with Reggie that first night. Caroline was digging through her memories. It was a disturbing experience and part of her wanted to pull away and make her stop. She felt violated. Detaching was impossible though. That taste and smell was everything and Charlie was vaguely aware that she was crying again.
She laid curled up on the polished wooden seat of the E.P. Ripley train in Disneyland, her head in her mother’s lap instead of Bruce’s. They rode that endless loop through the park, watching the sleepy people winding up their happy day. A half-eaten bag of popcorn was tucked under her arm, the fabric of her mother’s dress wet with happy tears. She could smell imitation vanilla in its folds. A white-gloved hand stroked her hair and Charlie drifted off to sleep, riding that cloud of vanilla.
“I love you, mama,” Charlie muttered through sleep.
“I love you too, baby,” Caroline whispered back.
- 16 -
The odd, invasive feeling of Caroline riffling through her memories was gone. Charlie’s eyes fluttered open and she was back in the cab of the truck, the yellow glow of the interior light in her eyes. Caroline sat next to her, holding her hand.
“I know what happened to you, Charlie. I saw it,” she said, lying down on the bunk next to Charlie, face to face. Caroline reached up and pushed Charlie’s hair out of her face and behind her ear.
“I don't even know,” Charlie managed to get out. It was all too weird. Caroline nodded, tears spilling from her eyes.
“I’ve seen terrible, awful things in my life, Charlie. I’ve seen my own children ripped apart in front of me. I’ve seen people murdered in horrible ways,” she said, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve... murdered people in horrible ways. Sometimes it’s nothing. Occasionally you’ll see something that you wish you hadn’t. That you want to scrub from your memory forever like a stain. I wish I hadn’t seen what that man did to you, Charlie, and I’m very, very glad that you don’t remember it.”
Charlie nodded. Caroline leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. She pulled away and put her hand on Charlie's cheek.
“Listen to me. No one will ever, ever hurt you like that again. Never,” Caroline said, nodding along with Charlie. She kissed her on the forehead and wiped one of Charlie’s tears from her cheek with her thumb. She wasn’t wearing her gloves and somehow that that felt more intimate than the kiss. After sitting like tha
t for a moment, Caroline sat up and looked at Bruce, who had apparently fallen asleep at some point and was snoring softly. Charlie sat up as well.
“So what are we going to do with him?” Charlie asked. Caroline twisted her mouth sideways as she thought about it. The expression was cartoonishly cute in a way that, in Charlie’s experience, only Caroline was capable of. It reminded her of Bugs Bunny and that made Charlie laugh. Caroline glanced at her and smiled again.
“I suppose nothing’s really changed. We were never going to kill him and while I certainly hadn’t planned on kicking the bejesus out of him,” she said, leaning her head at Charlie, who averted her eyes, “we can still get what we need from him. Oh shit, what time is it?” she asked, suddenly looking concerned. Charlie looked at the dashboard clock.
“It’s quarter to one. Why?”
“We have to walk back to the truck stop. How far do you think we went?”
Charlie shrugged.
“I don’t know, ten miles?”
Caroline sighed and nodded. She picked her razor up. Seeing it reminded Charlie of her wrist. She looked at where Caroline had cut her, expecting to see an open wound or at least a healing scratch. There was nothing. A bit of dark blood smeared across her arm but no wound at all.
“Let’s get to it. You take the right, I’ll take the left,” Caroline said. Charlie didn’t understand what she meant until Caroline climbed over Bruce and made a small cut on his wrist. She reached over and did the same to the other wrist and held it out for Charlie, blood running down Bruce’s arm in a thin, red rivulet. Caroline put his wrist to her mouth and Charlie did the same.
Immediately she was drawn into a frenetic stream of memories. It was different than with Reggie though. Reggie’s memories were a murky, dark soup, Bruce’s were bright and colorful.
It was less like a raging river in the night and more like walking through a hundred movies projected over top of each other. She couldn’t see Caroline, but she could feel her and even smell that vanilla smell all around.
