Chapter 7. Alice
ALICE
Simon and Jenny were outside for a while, then Alice heard scraping in the storage compartment under the RV.
She guessed that Simon was packing up their gear.
She felt the shift of weight as they moved in and out of the RV.
One of the kitchen drawers opened, and there was a series of metal clinking sounds, like items being thrown together. Utensils?
No, it was the knives. Of course.
Her breath caught. This couple was wanted for stabbing two people and now they had their knives. Not all of them, though. Alice was only slightly comforted knowing that she’d hidden one under her mattress. It wouldn’t be much good if she couldn’t reach it.
The RV shifted again as someone went outside.
Simon, she guessed. The storage compartment underneath opened and closed.
She hoped Simon had only been removing the knives.
Now there were more sounds inside as they changed the dinette into a bed.
They dropped the tabletop. Moved the foam seats around.
Unzipped their sleeping bags and shook them out.
Simon and Jenny had whispered good night to each other, like this was all normal, but later Alice heard the frustrated rolling of someone changing their position, the flap of blankets, the thump of a pillow being adjusted as though at least one of them was struggling to sleep.
The night was long. Without being able to shift her position even slightly, Alice’s muscles cramped, and it was hot with the windows closed. Her clothes were soaked with sweat.
Beside her, Tom drifted in and out of sleep, mumbling nonsensical words and making pained sounds.
Her thoughts ran rampant, spinning nightmarish fates at the hands of their captors.
Any brief moments of sleep were haunted by the image of Tom being beaten, his body on the ground with Simon looming over him, and she’d wake with a start, her heart galloping.
The sky was beginning to lighten outside the windows, the forest stirring with the first calls of birds. There would be campers on their way to use the restrooms before everyone else, but Alice was too terrified to scream for help. Not when Simon had a loaded gun.
The other couple was now waking. Blankets shifted, the silky slide of nylon sleeping bags. Simon whispered something. Then Jenny. She sounded urgent, upset.
Jenny went into the bathroom with her pack. Alice couldn’t see much from her position, but she heard Simon moving around as he got dressed. Then the cushions being rearranged, the tabletop lifting into place. The swish of nylon as he rolled the sleeping bags.
He appeared beside the bed in a white tank top with red piping and ragged cutoff jean shorts and pointed to Alice.
“You can use the bathroom next. I’ll be with Tom—and this.” He lifted his shirt to show the handgun.
Tom was quiet, but Alice could feel the anger radiating off his tense body.
She held herself still as Simon untied their bindings.
Tom cried out when Simon yanked on their arms, his eyes squeezing shut and his breath rapid.
The wounds from the fight were more obvious now.
Simon didn’t seem to have any marks other than scuffed knuckles, but Tom’s nose was swollen, the nostrils crusted with dried blood, and he had bruised cheeks, a scraped chin, and puffy lips.
“He needs Tylenol,” she said. “And another bag from the freezer.”
“Ask nicely.”
Alice despised Simon for this, for his staring down at them with his eyebrow raised and a mocking twist to his lips.
“Please. Please let me give my husband Tylenol.” She gritted out each word.
Jenny came out of the bathroom and stood beside Simon. She’d changed into a yellow sleeveless baby-doll top with an empire waist, faded jean short cutoffs, and her hair was braided.
Simon gave Alice a look. “Your turn. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll get your husband pills. Screw up, and I’ll make his pain go away forever. Understand?”
She nodded. In the bathroom, she took a couple of shaky breaths, glad for the precious few moments alone. The walls were thin, but they at least gave some semblance of privacy.
“Don’t take long,” Simon shouted. “Or I’ll kick the door down.”
When Alice was finished, she washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and scraped her messy hair back into a ponytail. She barely glanced at herself in the mirror.
She opened the door. Simon was in the kitchen area, cutting their coil of yellow rope into long segments with a knife. A big one, with a fancy handle. Was that the murder weapon? Had he been carrying it under his clothes the entire time? She caught her breath and met his eyes.
“Nice of you to bring this rope along,” he said. “It’s going to come in handy.”
Alice hovered near the table, unsure of what to do with herself.
Simon finished cutting the rope and slid the knife into a leather sheath on his hip.
He untied Tom. Alice winced, watching Tom ease off the bed, stopping a few times to rest. He held his injured arm across his chest, his other hand cupping his elbow.
Finally, he was standing, with Simon beside him.
“Give me your wallet.”
Tom was quiet, studying Simon’s face. His good hand clenched.
Alice watched, agonized. Don’t do anything stupid, Tom! Just give it to him.
“I know it’s in your back pocket, man.”
“You’ll have to get it out.” Tom turned around and Simon tugged the brown leather wallet free. She’d given it to Tom last Christmas. A small wedding photo of them was inside.
While Simon thumbed through the wallet, Tom staggered to the bathroom. He was being so careful not to bump his arm, but she could tell that every step hurt. His ribs, his shoulder, and wherever else he was injured. She reached for him, wanting to help, but Simon pushed her away.
“Sit at the table.”
Alice sat across from Jenny—who dared to smile. When she caught Alice’s glare, she dropped her smile and looked away. Tom came out of the bathroom, his face drained of color. He stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto the mattress. The RV rocked.
Simon pulled the cash out of Tom’s wallet, counting the bills.
“Forty bucks. That all? Thought you were rich Americans.” He went through the wallet again and this time he found the traveler’s checks.
“Now we’re talking.” Alice knew that there were five checks.
Each one worth twenty dollars. She’d watched Tom slide them in carefully so that they didn’t crease.
Simon now added them to his own wallet. He tossed Tom’s back, and it landed on his chest with a thud.
Simon looked around the RV, his eyes narrowed, then moved over to the closet and opened it. He quickly found the gun case, still unlocked, and pulled out a blue box. The extra bullets. He left the wood case in the closet but shoved the box of bullets into his backpack.
He turned to Tom. “You got any more weapons?”
“I only had the gun.”
Simon clearly didn’t believe him because he continued searching the closet, the area around the bed, the cupboards above. Alice watched from the table, her hands clenching underneath. She nearly sobbed when he lifted the edge of the mattress and pulled out the knife.
He looked at Tom. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”
“He didn’t know,” Alice said in a rush. “It was me. I hid it.”
Without saying a word, Simon opened the RV door and flung the knife outside. Was anyone walking past? Did someone see? Simon slammed the door shut.
“Where’s your purse?”
Alice gestured to the front of the RV. He found her purse where she’d left it hidden halfway under the passenger’s seat, opened her wallet, and took two tens, which he shoved into his pocket. He had their money, their weapons, and their RV. They were truly at his mercy now.
She needed a moment to breathe, to think. “Can I get changed?”
Simon walked back to the table, stopping by Jenny’s shoulder. “Leave the curtain open.”
“I’m not going to change in front of you.”
“Guess you’re not getting changed.”
“What if I close it partway?”
He held her gaze, then said, “Only if I can see Tom.”
“He still needs Tylenol and ice.”
Simon made an annoyed sound, but he got a bag of frozen corn, and shook out two pills from the bottle of Tylenol. Tom had to swallow them dry, and he grimaced when Simon dropped the corn onto his shoulder. At least Simon put the thawed bag of peas back into the freezer.
Alice got clothes out of the closet, moved closer to the bed, and tugged the privacy curtain partway across the area, enough to hide her body. While she pulled on a fresh pair of shorts and a pink short-sleeved blouse, she tried to communicate to Tom with her eyes.
Are you okay? Please be okay. We’re going to get through this. Somehow.
He gave her a faint smile, then his eyes drifted closed. She panicked, thinking for a horrible moment that he’d stopped breathing. She reached for him, touching his face.
“Tom? Tom?”
He opened his eyes back up. “Just resting. I’m okay.”
He wasn’t okay. He was suffering, but he was still with her, and she wanted to sink to her knees beside their bed in relief. She needed Tom. He was her rock, her cheerleader.
“Stop talking.” Simon slid the curtain open. “You’re driving.”
“Tom is in no shape to drive.”
“That’s why you’re doing it.”
“Me?” Alice could drive the RV. But with a gun pointed at her?
“Get ready. We’re leaving soon.”
He wanted them out of that campsite. He wanted them away from people. Once they got on that highway, so many things could happen. Alice thought of all the deserted side roads. Fields of long grass that could hide anything. Forests. Rivers.
He was staring at her, his jaw clenched. Like he was daring her to deny him. The area under his eyes was shadowed and his hair messy. She wondered if he had slept at all.
“I can drive,” Tom said. He was trying to sound strong, capable, but he couldn’t hide the reedy whisper in his voice. The struggle for air.
Simon looked over his shoulder at Jenny. “Babe, can you come here?”