The first thing Alfred saw when he opened his eyes was the profile of Penny’s head a few inches from him. He couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight with which to greet the day. He would like to draw her, but he couldn’t do that at the moment. There would be plenty of time to draw pictures of Penny in the years to come.
He remembered how wonderful Penny had been last night-and how understanding. This was even better than his dream of their lives together. Now he was convinced he had done the right thing. She had been so good to him that he must be winning her over.
With a light heart he got out of bed, careful not to wake her, put on his clothes, and went outside to light the stove for coffee and breakfast. This was one of the happiest mornings of his life.
The sound of the sliding door opening woke Penny. She lay still with her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of Alfred getting the stove and food out of the camper, not wanting to see her surroundings. When the noises faded, she opened her eyes out of necessity.
The first thing she saw was the raised roof of the camper over her head. The camper was her prison and the reality of that came to her. She wasn’t free to leave the camper, or at least go very far from it, while Alfred was awake. She had blown any chance she had of escaping last night. She couldn’t let that happen again.
In addition, she had a bad taste in her mouth. It was partly from not brushing her teeth last night. But it was more than that. The memories of what had happened in this bed came rushing back. She had always considered herself a moral person, a step above some other people she knew. Last night’s events had disproved that.
She had done things no good girl would do. It’s true that she and Alfred hadn’t technically had sex, but whores didn’t always have sex with their clients either. They fulfilled their clients’ needs in return for compensation. That’s exactly what she had done-fulfilled Alfred’s needs in return for him not doing something worse to her. She was no better than a whore. If the situation arose again, she knew she would do the same thing.
As much as she wanted to close her eyes and make the present go away, she couldn’t do it. She had to escape; she had to get back to Gary. He must be out of his mind with fear and frustration. She couldn’t worry about her lost virtue. She would have a lifetime to do that. She got out of bed and pulled on her slacks and sweater, wishing she had some deodorant at least, to give herself a goat bath, as they called it in college. Well, she would dab some of the cold water from the camper’s tank under her arms. A comb would be nice, too. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t do these things. Why should she try to look and smell good for Alfred?
Gary made his decision. The layout of Bodega Bay helped him. Route 1 was the main street through town. It was narrow, with sharp turns. Traffic moved slowly. If Penny and Alfred had stopped somewhere for the night north of here on Route 1, they would come through this bottleneck.
He found a good location at a right-angle turn to the left. He could watch each vehicle as it approached, and see the driver and front-seat passenger. He would look at the driver first, since Alfred might have Penny stashed in the backseat.
He parked his car a hundred feet away where the road had a shoulder, so that he could retrieve it and give chase in a minimum amount of time. He had called the Highway Patrol. They hadn’t come up with any leads. Alfred hadn’t shown up in Lomita, although it was probably too early for that to happen, even if he had driven most of the night. He hadn’t been spotted anywhere else, either.
Gary couldn’t think of anything better to do than wait for Penny and Alfred to pass. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know what he would do next. He had to find Penny. His life would be meaningless without her.
He took up his position, leaning against a guardrail designed to keep a driver who tried to navigate the curve too fast from ending up on the rocks in the bay behind him. He practiced looking through the windshield of each car that came by. It would work as long as his concentration didn’t waiver. He had to stand, which was a good thing. He would never get too comfortable.
If he spotted Penny or Alfred, he would try to get the license plate number of the vehicle. If he turned and looked at the rear of the vehicle after it passed him it should be going slowly enough so that he could read the plate. He practiced doing this when traffic was light. He had a pad and pencil available to write the information down. He had a thermos of coffee to help keep him awake, but he would drink it sparingly, because he wouldn’t move from this spot, even if he had to go to the bathroom.
CHAPTER 30
In contrast to her somber mood, Penny noticed that Alfred acted as if he were feeling very lighthearted this morning. He asked her how she had slept and solicitously examined the cut in her head. It became obvious to her as they ate breakfast that in her depravity she had done exactly what he wanted last night. She should use that to her advantage. Maybe she could get him to trust her more. She forced herself to smile at him and pretend to be happy. It was difficult, but it might help buy her freedom.
They repacked the stove and dishes in the camper and were ready to leave. Penny climbed into the passenger seat. When she saw Alfred pick up the roll of duct tape, she said, “Is that really necessary?” in her sweetest voice.
He hesitated, looking at her. She could almost see the wheels spinning in his brain. She held his eyes, trying to look her most seductive and most innocent at the same time. Promising bellybutton blow jobs and strict obedience. Finally he looked away and threw the tape into the storage cabinet.
Alfred sat in the driver’s seat, inserted the key into the ignition, and gave it a twist. There was no answering response from the starter. He tried again. Same result.
“The battery’s dead.” Alfred hit the steering wheel with his hand in frustration.
Penny didn’t know whether this was good news or bad news. The reason for it came to her.
“We left the dome light on last night.”
Alfred looked blank for a moment. He peered back at the offending light. He had obviously forgotten all about it. He got up and switched it off. He returned to his seat and tried the starter again. Nothing happened. He slumped over the steering wheel, at a loss as to what to do.
Penny knew what to do. She and Gary had been on one of their pre-honeymoon trips when they hadn’t been able to start the Beetle. They had both pushed it, and when its speed hit five miles per hour, Gary jumped into the driver’s seat with the ignition on and put it in gear. When he disengaged the clutch, it started. The camper had the same kind of transmission. The only problem was that it was a lot heavier, and they were parked on an uneven surface.
She debated whether to tell Alfred what to do. Was she better off with or without the camper? It was several miles to Route 1. She could certainly walk that distance-she had proved that-but would Alfred let her do it? She couldn’t outrun him. He might decide he couldn’t risk having her on foot and kill her here.
“It’s got a manual transmission. We can push-start it.”
“We can?”
Penny explained how she and Gary had started the Beetle. Then she and Alfred got out of the camper and surveyed the area. Even if they could move the camper with a push, it would be impossible for them to get it up to five miles-per-hour on the rough terrain. Penny saw that the only possibility was to push it back to the road, a distance of some thirty feet. The road sloped downhill toward the ocean.