A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  “Carl doesn’t know shit and he can’t do anything about it anyway. We’ll take care of him. We have friends all set to move,” Troy said. “We’re doing this for Rosie. She needs this to perk her up. And she’ll make sure my mother leads from here on out.”

  “She’s been sick for over a year. I’ve heard she’s dying,” Marly said.

  Louise smirked. “She’s still got lots of life in her as it turns out.”

  Marly lay back and let Louise’s raving, punctuated with Troy’s chortles, wash over her. She kept gasping for air, her ability to reason swept away. She would never get to talk to Tony again. Or the kids. What would happen to them? She rubbed her face and tried to funnel her desperation into figuring some way out, but her thoughts kept circling in a deadly spiral.

  The ride was both short and interminable. Given her position on the floor of the van, Marly couldn’t see out, but she could tell that at some point, they turned off the main road onto something rougher and more twisting, followed by another turn and another until she lost track.

  The sunlight hitting the front windshield was bright, but little filtered into the back of the van. Marly cast her eyes into every corner for some sort of tool or device that could give her hope. The floor toward the front of the van where she and Elaine lay was clear and barren. The floor at the back was covered with two deflated mattresses, two sleeping bags, two duffels, several piles of clothes, and a couple of boxes. There had to be valuable tools buried in those boxes, but she wouldn’t be able to search without being noticed.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you about Del,” she said. Her voice sounded small and scared. “They came after me in Del’s truck. I ran down the road and up into that field. Zeke shot twice. One bullet nicked me and the other hit Del. I didn’t kill them. They died in the truck and it went over the side of the ravine.”

  Louise put the camera aside long enough to climb into the back and slug Marly a couple of times. She gave Elaine a good knock as well. Marly tried to scoot out of the way. She saw Elaine try to turn her left side toward Louise to protect her right eye.

  After a few more blows, Louise returned to the front and plopped down into her seat. “Idiot. We knew that. We know about your ways. Del. Precious Del. Such a wimp. He never wanted to do any of the hard stuff, little baby boy. He didn’t mind a little touch-up, and he wanted to call the shots, but he had no stomach for the real thing. Larry and me had to take care of all the hard work. Why do you think Dad was with Del that night? Dad was so mad we’d got Laurie by mistake—it was supposed to be you, Marly. Del couldn’t bear to take care of his little stepdaughter. He had to get all drunk. Dad went with him to make sure he manned up.”

  Marly swallowed, transported back years.

  Louise continued. “I’ve always been the backbone and even more so with Larry away. And now I’m going to prove to everyone that I’ve got the balls and the intelligence to pull this off. Rosie will run things a bit longer and, when she’s gone, I’ll have it all.”

  Marly no longer wanted to argue. She had used the distraction of trying to evade Louise to twist around so that her head was at the back of the van where she could use her new position to roll and search for something, anything, in the boxes or under the piles of clothes.

  Fumbling under a sleeping bag, her hands came back with a Phillips-head screwdriver. She had no time to dig for something better. This would have to do.

  While Louise busied herself in the front seat, Marly sandwiched the screwdriver between her palms. With some difficulty she tucked the screwdriver, blade first, under the left sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  “I want to know where my father’s body is,” Marly said. “You owe me that much. I’ll tell you about the money.”

  “We know about the money, bitch. We’ll get that back one way or another,” Troy said, followed by his signature giggle.

  “Beanie is with Johnny at the bottom of Schwarzer’s quarry under a ton of rock and fifty feet of water,” Louise said. “Your precious Ollie, too.”

  “I can’t believe Carl let you kill Johnny,” Marly said, her voice a whisper.

  “Carl. Jeez. Carl has been on the outside all these years. No one asked Carl. Carl was told after the fact.”

  Louise turned and leaned into the back section to strike Marly’s shins with an ax handle before turning back to supervise Troy’s driving.

  With her feet now facing the front of the van, Marly used her squeal of pain to pull out the screwdriver. Rolling with the steep curves in the road to hide her movements, she started working on the plastic ties around Elaine’s ankles. Marly feared that Elaine had fallen unconscious—she was so limp.

  Using the head of the screwdriver to cut through all the plastic loops proved harder than she had hoped. At last Marly believed that Elaine could break the leg ties with one good jolt. Marly tried to get into position to work on her own, but the bouncing was now too severe and Louise had also turned around to face the back. Marly tucked the screwdriver out of sight.

  The track was so rough that Marly was almost grateful when they stopped, even though she knew this would mean the end for both Elaine and herself.

  “Okay,” Louise said with a broad smile. “This is the place where you go over in pieces. I think we should start with your feet.”

  Troy got out and headed toward the back. Louise stayed inside watching the two young women until he had the back doors open.

  Marly swallowed her scream of helpless fear. She couldn’t get the screwdriver free while Louise and Troy were on the alert for any suspicious movements.

  Louise climbed out and joined Troy at the back of the van. “Wait, wait. Hold on. I’ve got to get the cameras going. I want to put one on the edge, looking down, and the other facing the flat area. Get out the chain saw and the rest. Once that’s done, you can drag them close to the edge. We’ll do Fardig first. Make her go to her knees. Parts go over and we’ll toss what’s left.”

  Louise picked up two tripods from the truck bed.

  “Get undressed,” she said to Troy. “Blood will go everywhere once you start cutting. Watch and rings, too.”

  Marly could hear Louise swearing as she set up the cameras. Troy stripped off his clothes, keeping his eyes fixed on Marly and Elaine from the frame of the back doors. Marly noticed with disgust that he had a hard-on.

  Glancing out the open front passenger door, Marly could see Louise take her clothes off too. Things were about to get serious. Marly was breathing too fast. She couldn’t think clearly. She tried to bury her face in her sweatshirt to minimize hyperventilating.

  Plan B. Maybe she could throw herself over the cliff. She would die—no doubt about it—but at least her death would be sudden and quick.

  Troy disappeared from sight. Marly could hear him arguing with Louise about whether to put down plastic and how to stabilize the tripods.

  “Elaine,” Marly said, careful to mask her voice from the two outside. “I’ve cut most of the way through the ties at your ankles. A couple of good kicks and they’ll snap. You’ve got to fight—you’ve got nothing to lose. Wait for a distraction and then kick free and run.”

  Elaine wagged her head. Was that a yes or a no?

  “I know you can’t see very much. Try to follow the road. I can’t tell you which way, but just run.”

  Louise’s voice was now close to the van and the side door slid open. “Okay. Now we’ll show these smarties that we’re smarter than they are.” Troy reached in and grabbed Elaine under her left arm, hoisted her out, and let her fall onto the dirt.

  Marly had a brief chance to study their surroundings through the open door. The van had come to rest in a saddle in the road following some sort of ridge. The ground had been cleared to offer a view over the mountains and treetops, although from her vantage point she couldn’t determine more than that. The smell of mountain bay trees wafted over her. She assumed that the cliff edge started where the dirt area met open sky.

  Elaine squirmed and thrashed. Were those ties wea
kened enough? Her struggles provided a distraction and a sliver of extra time that allowed Marly to work the screwdriver out from under the ties around her wrists. She turned it in her fingers so that the tip faced out with the handle between her palms.

  Marly lost sight of Elaine, but she could hear her friend’s screams.

  Troy climbed inside the back of the van. After a brief and futile spell of cat and mouse, he grabbed Marly’s arms and yanked her out onto the dirt, headfirst. The blow knocked away all emotion and the world around her slowed down to a crawl.

  Marly brought up her arms and bound hands to protect her head, clamping her fingers together so that she wouldn’t lose the screwdriver. She rolled, got to her knees, and resisted with all her might as Troy started to pull her up, leveraging his three hundred–plus pounds.

  He giggled. “Silly girl.”

  She resisted a bit more, paused, and reversed course, pushing herself forward. Troy stumbled back, but he had a good hold on Marly. He adjusted his stance and compensated by leaning forward.

  Marly’s initial, so-called plan had been to drive the screwdriver, point first, down behind Troy’s collarbone or into his neck. Now she realized that he was too tall for her to stab him at an angle that would give her leverage, plus—remembering how the putter had bounced off his back—he was so larded over that she doubted she would have the strength to stab him anywhere on his torso.

  This time as he came forward, Marly leaned back. She pointed the tip of the screwdriver toward his left eye, but his grip on her arms was too powerful and her planned blow was far off course. Her tethered feet tripped over each other and she fell forward into the bulk of his body.

  If Troy noticed the screwdriver, he didn’t give any indication. Locked in their strange waltz, Troy staggered. His head snapped back and then forward. As they fell toward each other, Marly’s bound hands shifted the screwdriver to her left and, redirecting her aim, thrust the blade up into Troy’s right nostril.

  All movement stopped. Troy blinked and gave a grunt. He stiffened and pulled back, a puzzled look on his face. Marly loosened her hands and launched from her toes, slamming the crown of her head up into the base of the screwdriver. There was an unfamiliar crunching sound as she felt the screwdriver slide upward. She heard Troy grunt one more time before he flopped to the ground, still holding on to Marly.

  Marly thrashed her way out of his grip and rolled. She looked up from the dust. Absorbed in her dark tasks, Louise had not turned around.

  Marly pushed to her knees and made a dive for the nearest pile of tools. Her gaze fell on a box cutter. Troy had not gotten up, but his legs and arms were moving. She was sure he would be on her in a second.

  The world moved faster. Elaine kicked her legs free and rose to her feet, unnoticed by Louise, who turned and froze at the sight of Marly crouched by Troy, box cutter in her hands.

  The stench of excrement filled the air. Louise’s eyes were drawn to her son and she yelled obscenities.

  “Elaine! Run, Elaine!” Marly screamed as she sawed at the plastic ties around her ankles. Even barefoot, they had a good chance of running faster than Louise, who was bulky with fat and muscle but not in shape for a race.

  Out of the corner of her eye to the right, Marly could see that Elaine had staggered to the front of the van.

  Marly was almost done cutting her leg ties when she saw Louise stoop to pick something up and move toward Troy.

  Marly yelled again, so loud that her throat hurt. “Elaine. She has a gun. Elaine. Run.”

  The plastic ties around her legs gave way. Freed, she scrambled toward the far side of the van, hoping that the vehicle would provide a better cover from bullets than the open ground. She tried to cut through the ties around her wrists as she ran, but the angle was awkward and she dropped the box cutter.

  As she passed the back bumper, she heard a yell from Elaine, followed by a howl of pain.

  Marly turned around. Rounding the back of the van, she saw that Elaine had located a shovel. Even with limited sight and with her hands bound in front of her, Elaine was swinging at Louise, landing blows on the older woman’s head, shoulders, and neck.

  Louise stumbled and fell. The next blow sent the gun spinning into a clump of poison oak close to the edge of the cliff. Marly dove for the gun, poison oak or not.

  Concerned that Elaine might not be able to see with clarity, Marly shouted instructions as she hunted for the gun while keeping track of Louise. “To your right and straight.”

  Louise was circling around to her right, trying to outflank Elaine and Marly.

  Marly located the gun. She struggled to her feet as the gun wobbled in her nervous fingers, her wrists still tied together. Shit. Don’t shoot your own head off. Does it have a safety? How this this work? She had shot .22 rifles and shotguns before, but didn’t know much about handguns.

  “Okay, Louise,” Marly said. “I’ve got the gun. Down on your knees, hands on head.” She hoped Louise wouldn’t notice her tenuous hold on the weapon.

  Instead, Louise cursed and lunged at Elaine, who fended off the huge woman with another blow as Marly moved closer.

  “Fucking, stupid bitch.” It was Elaine’s turn to scream. “Stupid, fucking idiot. Fuck you.” With that she lunged in Louise’s direction, using the blade of the shovel like a spear.

  Louise swayed, stepped to her right, grabbed the shovel above the blade, and gave it a hard yank. Elaine stumbled but pulled the shovel free. Caught off balance, Louise lost her footing on the sloping ground and fell. As she wobbled to her feet, she met Marly’s eyes and looked at the gun.

  Distracted, Louise missed an incoming blow from Elaine, which landed on her right shoulder. Louise fell back and rolled, coming to rest with her feet at the edge of the cliff.

  The soft dirt crumbled. Louise froze, her eyes round. In a crouch, she lunged forward to grasp the soft fabric of Elaine’s jeans and yanked Elaine off her feet, pulling her toward the edge of the cliff.

  The shovel went flying as Elaine’s bound hands flew over her head. She thrashed side to side, desperate to find purchase in the barren dirt as the two women continued to slide.

  Elaine and Louise were too entwined for Marly to risk firing the gun. The shovel was lying precious seconds away. To use it as a weapon would require going dangerously close to the fragile edge of the cliff.

  Marly dropped the gun and bent to grab Elaine’s hands in her own. The intervention stopped Elaine’s downward slide, but Louise weighed at least as much as Elaine and Marly together. The three women came to a halt, frozen in their tug of war.

  Marly felt her damp grasp slip on Elaine’s smooth skin. In one swift movement, she let go of Elaine’s hands, sat down, and slid her own hands down over Elaine’s outstretched arms and head to her torso. Marly squeezed her knees into Elaine’s sides, her arms wrapped around Elaine under the armpits.

  Marly’s rational brain recoiled in horror. What the fuck did you just do? You’re committed now, sweetie. You’re going over that cliff with Elaine and Louise.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Marly said out loud.

  Hugging Elaine to her, Marly dug her heels into the dirt and started to butt-walk the three of them backward. Except that Louise wasn’t moving. Elaine’s jeans had slid down over her hips. Louise was losing ground.

  “I’ve got you, Elaine, now kick. Kick!”

  Anchored by Marly, Elaine kicked and the pants slipped down to her knees. Moments later, her left leg popped free. Louise let go of Elaine’s right pant leg and grabbed Elaine’s bare left foot and ankle with both hands.

  “Kick your left ankle. Knock her hands free.”

  Elaine thrashed and smashed her feet together. Louise let go with a yelp. Another chunk of the cliff edge dropped away, leaving Louise’s legs dangling in the open air. She pawed at the bare dirt for a handhold as Marly continued to pull Elaine away.

  Marly had seen Louise angry many times, but never fearful. Even now, Louise looked more furious than afraid. It occurred
to Marly that, perhaps for Louise, those two emotions had always been the same.

  Balanced on the soft, crumbling ledge, Louise was beyond help—her upper body among the living and her feet already tasting death. Marly watched, transfixed, as Louise swore, scratched, and scrabbled, grasping at twigs and rocks, and slipped from view.

  Still tethered to Elaine, Marly tilted her head back and yelled into the uncaring blue sky.

  “Smarties win, Louise. See you in hell.”

  23

  Marly: Cleanup

  June 14–16, 2009

  Elaine and Marly lay entwined on the dirt and rocks. Elaine’s body quivered and twitched, but Marly remained frozen as she savored every breath, the hard earth, and the thin, brittle shell of delicious heat from the brilliant sun. A brief breeze signaled the impending arrival of the gray fog bank from the west. Her terror broke like a fever and tears flowed.

  “Is she gone?” Elaine asked.

  “She’s gone. She went over the edge.”

  “Where’s Troy?” Elaine’s voice was sharp with fear.

  “Dead too, I think. I hope.” Marly sat up and looked to where Troy lay near the back of the van. He was not moving. “He’s not getting up. Let’s move back. We’re still too close to the edge.”

  Marly pulled her arms free, eased herself upright, and helped Elaine to her feet. Marly felt light-headed and jittery. She didn’t trust her own limbs, and she had to resist the temptation to giggle. You’re fine. You’re okay, she kept telling herself as she guided Elaine to the open sliding side door of the van. They both sat down on the edge.

  “I couldn’t even see her go over,” Elaine said. She was crying. “I can’t see much of anything.”

  “You’re dehydrated and in shock. Let me cut through these wrist ties and I’ll take a proper look at you.” Elaine’s distress had a soothing effect on Marly, allowing her to focus on something external. Elaine needed her. “And I’d better check on Troy.”

  Troy had fallen on top of the bright blue tarp he had unfolded at the rear of the van. Marly’s knees shook as she drew close, and she gagged when she touched him. She could find no sign of a pulse. His eyes were open and fixed on the sky, his limbs spread-eagle. The screwdriver still protruded from his nose. Marly was surprised there wasn’t more blood. A small trickle ran from his right nostril, down his cheek, followed the creases of his neck, and disappeared under his body. Troy’s hips and upper thighs lay in a puddle of piss and excrement that escaped when he died. Marly gagged again.