Claudia Must Die

by Markinson, T. B.

  Francis tapped the top of her head.

  Nothing.

  He lightly slapped her cheeks, and then attempted to pry her eyes open.

  Still nada.

  Claudia splashed her with water. Actually, Claudia drenched her.

  Parker shook her head violently and spat out water.

  Francis didn’t like Claudia’s method, but he had to admit it worked. “Parker, it’s time to eat,” he said.

  She blinked excessively, trying to clear the tiredness from her mind. “What time is it?” She gazed around. “Where in the hell am I?”

  “Not sure anymore,” Claudia responded. “All of these states look the same to me. One crummy town after another, and nothing but fields in-between.” She looked at the plains beyond the highway. “Why do people live here?”

  Francis waved Claudia off. “Parker, you haven’t eaten in a while. Do you think you can stand up?” Nurturing wasn’t normally his way, but he felt responsible for Parker’s befuddled state. He never should have brought her on this trip.

  Parker nodded, but made no attempt to move.

  Francis eased out of the car and offered her his hand. “Come on. Let’s get some food in you. That will make you feel better.”

  Parker leaned forward and then grabbed her side. “Why do—” She felt the bandage and lifted her shirt up. “What in the fuck is going on?”

  “You got shot, remember?” offered Claudia.

  Francis inhaled deeply, and threw Claudia a glare that said, “One more word out of you, and I’ll shoot you.”

  “Shot! Who shot me?”

  Claudia opened her mouth, but when she saw Francis stiffen, she thought better of answering.

  “Parker, I’ll explain everything, inside.”

  The student looked up into his eyes, scrunching up her face. Her mouth gaped open. “I don’t understand why I’m shot, and why I can’t think straight. Everything is muddled.” Parker tapped her head, hoping to knock the cobwebs out. “How long have I been in the car?”

  “Come on, Parker. We’ll talk inside.” Francis put his hand out to help her stand.

  Parker rubbed her eyes and braced herself for the pain as she eased out of the backseat. “Do you have any Advil?”

  The clarity in her emerald eyes comforted Francis. The insanity was gone.

  “Yes, of course. Claudia can you bring the bottle?” Francis didn’t wait for a response. He helped Parker inside the diner.

  Fritz sat outside, with a bowl of water. Incoming and outgoing customers remarked that he looked like a statue and wondered if the dog was real. No one was brave enough to approach the attack dog to find out for sure.

  As she settled into her seat, Parker put her hand out for some pills. Claudia poured out twenty or more tablets and offered all of them to Parker.

  Francis snatched two and shoved Claudia’s hand out of Parker’s reach. “Two will do for now.” His gruff voice was a warning to Claudia.

  The front door of the diner opened, and the assassins walked in. At first, when they saw Francis and the women, they froze.

  The hostess approached. “How many in your party?”

  “We’re meeting some friends,” Boyd muttered, as he tugged on Otis’s arm, almost dragging his younger brother the entire way to the table.

  Francis motioned to the two seats opposite him. No one spoke. Five pairs of eyes flitted back and forth, assessing the others seated at the table.

  Parker rubbed her face and eyes with both hands. Finally, she broke the ice. “You look familiar.” She directed the words to Otis—the man who had shot her.

  Otis stiffened.

  Boyd came to his rescue. “I’m Boyd. This is my brother—Otis. I don’t think we’ve met.” He added, “Officially.”

  Parker nodded hello.

  “Uh, Parker just woke up from a really long nap and is still out of it,” explained Francis.

  Claudia opened her mouth, but Francis dug his fingers into her thigh under the table until she closed her trap.

  “Yeah, I can’t seem to wake up completely.” Parker’s words slurred.

  The waitress came to take their order. Before the woman said anything, Parker barked that she wanted a cup of coffee: black and strong. The rest ordered the same.

  “Five coffees, coming up. I’ll be back in a few moments to take your food orders.” She sauntered off to take the next table’s order.

  Francis turned to Claudia. “Why don’t you take Parker to the restroom, so she can get cleaned up?”

  Parker’s head nodded forward, but she snapped it back up. “I need to splash cold water on my face.” The student stood. A slight trace of blood remained on her shirt.

  Otis looked away guiltily.

  Claudia walked arm-and-arm with Parker to the bathroom, fearful, but she knew not to disobey an order from Francis. Inside, Parker held onto the sink with one hand and turned the water on cold with the other. She splashed her face repeatedly, soaking her shirt even more.

  After Parker finished her cold shower and used the toilet, the two headed back towards the table.

  The coffees had arrived. Parker greedily grabbed hers and took a long swallow.

  The waitress returned. “What can I get you folks to eat?”

  “I don’t want any cookies,” responded Parker. She was as stunned by her own pronouncement as the rest of the group. “I mean, I haven’t had a chance to look yet.”

  The waitress tapped her pencil on her pad. “Right. Why don’t I give you a few more minutes?” She wandered off, shaking her head. Why did she always get the wackos?

  Parker slurped her coffee again.

  Claudia wanted to ask what she missed, but she didn’t have the gumption. None of the men spoke. Claudia tapped her fork on the table, nervously.

  The waitress returned, a huge fake smile plastered on her face. “All right, have you folks decided?”

  The brothers got BLTs, with pie for dessert. Claudia ordered a salad; Francis, a steak. When it came time for Parker to order, she looked to Francis imploringly. Her vision was blurred, and she couldn’t make head nor tails out of the menu.

  “She’ll have the steak, as well. Rare.” He thought the protein would be good for her.

  The waitress never stopped smiling. “Coming right up.” She was thinking, What drug is that woman on?

  Boyd straightened in his seat and tapped the table nervously with his fingertips. “So, we have an arrangement?”

  Francis nodded.

  “Arrangement?” Claudia looked at Boyd and then back to Francis. “What arrangement?”

  “To take care of it.” Boyd didn’t want to elaborate, not just because he was in public. He never wanted to say aloud what “taking care of it” really meant.

  Claudia started to protest.

  “It’s okay, Claudia.” Francis placed his hand on her arm. “We’re all on the same team now. It’s taken care of.”

  “What do you mean the same team?” Parker eyed Otis. “I swear I know you.” Her coffee was kicking in. The student motioned to the waitress, indicating that she wanted another cup.

  “We may have met,” Otis mumbled. “I don’t know for sure.” He looked away from her stare.

  “You’re the one aren’t you?” stated Parker.

  “The one?” Otis stalled.

  “The one.” Parker’s eyes said, don’t mess with me.

  Otis froze. Boyd tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

  Claudia hoped Parker would start a fight and get herself killed.

  “The one who shot me. It’s starting to come back to me.”

  Everyone but Francis was shocked by Parker’s matter-of-fact manner. The old Parker was back.

  “I didn’t want to. I didn’t shoot to—”

  “To kill.” Parker raised her coffee cup to her lips. “Still, it hurts.” She motioned to Claudia for the Advil bottle.

  “I just wanted you to stop
shooting at me.” Otis defended himself.

  Parker nodded. Slowly, memories of the shootout came back to her.

  “What’s going on?” asked Claudia, realizing as she said it that she never meant to verbalize the question.

  “Parker’s back.” Francis stated, unequivocally. He thought of the time he had sat on Parker’s deck with his gun next to him. Parker hadn’t flinched. Now, she sat at a table with the assassins and the woman who set her up, and she was cool as a cucumber. God, he had missed her.

  The waitress brought the food.

  With one look at the cherry pie, Parker ordered herself a slice, too. Claudia followed suit.

  “Are we all traveling together, then?” asked Claudia.

  “No.” Francis sliced into his steak. “The boys will follow in their car.”

  “You decided all of this while Parker and I were in the restroom?”

  The men didn’t answer, but their expressions suggested it was true.

  “I don’t get men.” Claudia plunged her fork into her salad.

  Parker stared at Claudia as if she had millipedes crawling all over her head.

  When the waitress ambled by, Parker ordered another steak, bloodier than the first.

  ***

  Claudia sat on a hotel bed in some Podunk town in Nebraska. Parker reclined in the desk chair, rocking the front legs up off the ground, her own legs on the bed for balance; it was the only position that eased the pressure of her gunshot wound.

  Gunshot wound. Parker never thought she would be able to claim she had been shot.

  “This is not fair!” Claudia pouted, twirling some of her hair on the back of her head.

  “What’s not?” Parker didn’t turn to look at her, since she didn’t want to aggravate her wound.

  “Being in here, when they’re in there.”

  The men were in the adjoining room, planning the attack. They were five hours from Loveland. Parker just wanted it all to be over with. She missed her deck in Boston. It wasn’t much, but the peace and quiet each night called to her.

  “Why do you want to be in there? Leave it to the professionals.” Parker adjusted slightly in her chair—and regretted it instantly. Pain shot in every direction.

  “You aren’t bothered at all? Yesterday, you wanted to kill everyone. And today, well I don’t know what’s up with you.”

  “I wasn’t myself yesterday,” explained Parker.

  “Yeah, I know. Francis drugged you.” Claudia clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it.

  Parker chuckled. “That does explain why I was in such a fog.” The news relieved her fears. It wasn’t cancer.

  Claudia shook her head back and forth, resembling one of those Hula Girls on a dashboard. “That doesn’t bother you at all? If I found out Francis had drugged me, I would want to stand on his eyelids.”

  Parker thought about that for a moment. Was it possible to stand on someone’s eyelids? No, they were too short. Stand on their eyes, yes; eyelids, no.

  “I don’t have my gun anymore,” said Parker.

  Claudia stopped picking dirt from underneath her toenails and stared at Parker in disbelief. “What?”

  “I don’t have my gun anymore. I can’t help with the shootout.” She nodded to the room next door. “Why include me in the conversation if I can’t help?”

  “Well, I can help?”

  “Do you have a gun?” Parker asked in a curious tone.

  “No, but I know my husband.”

  “I know Francis. He doesn’t need any of us.”

  That angered Claudia, but she knew Parker had a point. From the beginning, Francis had been in charge.

  “Do you remember losing your gun?” Claudia was desperate to change the subject, and she wanted to keep Parker talking. The student’s moody silence unnerved her. How could Parker sit and stare for hours without speaking? What type of woman was she?

  “I think I dropped it.”

  Claudia burst into a fit of laughter. “Right out the car window! There you were, in the backseat, trying to shoot the shit out of the boys’ car, and we hit a bump in the road right when Francis yanked on the wheel and you just dropped it. Oh, the look on your face was—”

  There was no need to finish the sentence. Claudia scratched her head, hoping she hadn’t just pushed the wrong button on Parker’s mood.

  “Like I said, I wasn’t myself yesterday.”

  “Do you still want to kill me?” Claudia immediately regretted asking. Her mother always told her she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

  “Now, that’s an interesting question.” Parker thought long and hard about it.

  “What do you mean by that: interesting question?”

  Parker turned her head to look Claudia in the eyes. The movement caused her minor discomfort. “Religion says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ Then again, in the Bible it says, ‘An eye for an eye.’ Now, philosophically I think the question is more interesting—”

  “What in the fuck is wrong with you two? Francis and his fate theory, and now you with religion and philosophy. This is my life we’re talking about, not a philosophical debate. Jesus Christ!”

  Parker, unmoved by Claudia’s outburst, asked, “How long did you follow me around before—that day?”

  “Forty-eight days.” Why did I tell her that? Claudia instantly berated herself. I could have lied or not responded. Parker’s stoicism had pulled her in, given her a false sense of security?

  “I see. So you didn’t rush it.” Parker nodded approvingly. “On which day did you decide to have me killed?” Parker swiveled the desk chair again, so she could see Claudia completely. The front legs still dangled above the ground. Parker joined her hands, as if in prayer, and rested her chin on her steepled fingertips.

  Claudia fiddled with the notepad on the hotel nightstand. Flicking the pages, she said, “The first day.”

  “The first day. That’s interesting. The entire time you were plotting my death, and I had no clue who you were or that I was being followed. Life is funny, when you think about it.”

  “Oh, please don’t talk about fate. I can’t handle another discussion on fate. Not today. Not this week. Never again.” Claudia slammed a fist down on the nightstand.

  “So, on day one you decided to kill me.”

  “Not personally,” Claudia interjected.

  “Okay, on day one you decided to set me up to be killed.” Parker looked at her.

  Claudia nodded.

  “And not once after that did you have second doubts…‌or did you?”

  Claudia desperately wanted to say that she did. She wanted to say that she had tried to prevent it, but it was too late. Claudia was an honest person—to a fault. “No. Not once.”

  “And now you are asking me if I want to kill you.”

  “Let me guess, you find that interesting.” Claudia didn’t hide her sardonic tone.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Well?”

  Parker, lost in thought, responded, “Well, what?”

  Claudia looked up to the ceiling, trying to control her hysteria. “Do you want to kill me?”

  “I won’t lie.”

  Claudia’s body stiffened, frozen in terror.

  “When I first saw you, when you jumped into the backseat of the car, I wanted to. I really did. And…”

  “And, what?”

  “I don’t usually react that way. Normally, I’m logical. Numbers. Do you like math?”

  “What the fuck does math have to do with this?”

  “Everything. Math controls everything.” Parker looked deadly serious.

  Claudia stared at Parker as though she just ripped the head off a kitten.

  “Listen, I don’t want to talk about math. I don’t want to talk about religion, philosophy, or fate. I want to know, do you want to kill me?”

  “Personally, I don’t think I can do it.”

  “
You tried killing those boys!” Claudia pointed to the room next door, where the big powwow was taking place.

  “I wasn’t myself, then. All I felt was hatred.” Parker looked away. “And sad. I felt sad and alone. I get tired of feeling alone.” Her voice was barely audible.

  Claudia, speechless, went to the bathroom.

  Parker stared out the window. There wasn’t much to see in Nebraska.

  After Claudia settled down on the bed, Parker continued. “I won’t try to shoot you or anything, but I’m not sure I would protect you either. Does that answer your question sufficiently?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry I got so worked up.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Parker swallowed hard. “It’s been a difficult few days.”

  “Francis told me about your mom and grandparents. I’m sorry.”

  Parker smiled. “I didn’t know he knew about them.”

  “Yeah, it’s amazing what you can find on Google these days.” Claudia chewed on a fingernail. “Why did your mom do it?”

  “What? You mean kill herself?”

  Parker’s stoicism puzzled Claudia. “Yeah, why?”

  “That, I don’t know.”

  “Did you…‌well did you ever suspect she would?” Claudia pushed.

  Parker bit her lower lip. Claudia could see the wheels moving in her head. It was amazing. Claudia felt like she could actually see Parker connecting the dots in her mind before she spoke.

  “No. I don’t think I did. But I did have this feeling once.”

  Claudia motioned for Parker to continue. “Yeah…?”

  “My mom and I didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. She had a hard time holding a job. We weren’t destitute or anything, but we weren’t well off either. My grandparents helped out quite a bit.”

  The suspense was killing Claudia, but she knew she couldn’t rush Parker. Parker had her own speed.

  “One day, Mom and I were walking home from the bus stop—she never had a driver’s license,” Parker added, not knowing why. “As we approached a neighbor’s house, the guy who lived there was pulling up in his car. When he pulled into his driveway, he clicked his garage door opener. I still remember seeing him reaching up to the sun visor where he kept the opener, and pushing the button.” Parker mimicked the action.

  “I thought having a garage door opener was fancy, so I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Heck, we didn’t even have a car.” Parker smiled at the thought. “The door slowly creaked open, and that’s when I saw it.”