Once the camper reached the road, it would roll of its own accord. One of them could jump into it and put it in gear. Then it would start easily. If she were the one to do that, she could just keep going and leave Alfred behind. She would be free. She was very tempted to try to talk him into it.
On the other hand, the person who jumped into the camper had a dangerous job. What if she didn’t make it and fell under the wheels? What if she didn’t gain control of the steering wheel soon enough and it hit a tree or went into the ditch that ran along one side of the road? It could easily roll over.
No, she would rather give Alfred that job. If he got hurt, she could make her escape. It sounded cold-blooded, but it was true. She had to remember that he had tried to kill her and Gary. He was the enemy. If the camper were wrecked, they would be no worse off than they were now.
An additional idea occurred to her. She explained to Alfred what had to be done. Then she said, “Before we do it, I need to go to the bathroom again.”
“You just went a little while ago.”
“I know, but it’s urgent. I need to get something to use for toilet paper.”
Not waiting for his acquiescence, Penny went into the camper and opened the storage cabinet. She extracted a pad of ruled paper she had seen there earlier, and the duct tape. She shoved the roll of tape underneath her sweater. The sweater’s bulk hid the bulge. She needed a pencil. She went forward and opened the glove compartment, keeping an eye on Alfred through the front windows. He was contemplating the logistics of what they were going to do and not looking at her.
She found a pencil, placed it in her pocket, and jumped out of the camper through the doorway with the sliding door. She headed toward the trees, flashing the pad at Alfred. That was her toilet paper. She went behind one of the big redwood trees. She was thankful for its bulk. He was watching and would see if she tried to escape, but he couldn’t see what she was doing.
She took the pencil out of her pocket and printed the words “Penny” and “Alfred” on the top sheet of paper of the pad in block letters. She held the pad in her hand as she wrote, and the letters came out very light. They wouldn’t be legible to somebody driving behind the camper. She had to find a way to darken them.
She knelt on the ground and placed the pad on one of her thighs. Then she went over the letters many times, pressing the pencil against the pad, trying to make them as dark as possible. Before she was satisfied with the result, the lead of the pencil broke. She swore to herself. She couldn’t go back and get another pencil. This would have to do. Gary had sharp eyes. Hopefully, he would be able to read her sign if he saw it.
Penny pictured Gary driving the Beetle, coming up behind the camper, and seeing her sign. This was how it had to work. Unless Gary decided she was more trouble than she was worth and abandoned her. Or maybe he thought she had run away with Alfred. That thought nauseated her. No, he would never believe that. He had to be looking for her. He wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t like him. She felt sorry for him, alone and not knowing where she was. He must be going through emotional hell.
Alfred called her name. In a minute he would come looking for her. She had to do one more thing. She pulled the duct tape out from beneath her sweater and tried to tear off a piece. She found she could tear it easily with her fingers. Good. She threw the pencil away and hid the tape under her sweater again. Then she folded the sheet of paper in quarters and placed it in her pants pocket. She walked back to the camper.
She checked to make sure Alfred had the camper in neutral with the parking brake off. She told him to turn on the ignition and leave the left, front door open. His station was by that door. If necessary, he could steer the camper with one hand while pushing with the other hand. He positioned himself and gave a push against the frame at a point beside the door hinges, grunting as he did so. It didn’t move.
“Hurry up and push.” His voice had a growl in it.
He was irritated that she was the brains of this undertaking. Penny took a position in back of the camper and pushed when Alfred did. It still didn’t move.
“Push harder.”
She almost said something obscene. What did he want from her? He outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. He had to provide the main effort. However, at his command, she pushed as hard as she could. Slowly, the camper moved forward a few inches. Then it stopped.
Penny used up her strength and couldn’t maintain the effort. She and Alfred must have let up at the same time, because the camper rolled back to where it had been and even a little farther. Then it rolled forward to the starting point and stopped.
“We’ll rock it,” Alfred said. “When it rocks forward, push with all your might.”
They pushed the camper forward and when it stalled they let it go back. When it rocked forward toward the original position, they pushed together “with all their might.” It almost stalled again at the point of furthest progress, but an extra effort on both their parts got it into new territory.
It continued to move forward slowly, begrudging the inches it gave up. The effort was exhausting. They had to stop several times to catch their collective breath, but each time they were able to get it moving again. Eventually, they moved it close to the road. One more push and it should start to roll downhill.
Penny looked around the camper at Alfred. “Do you know what to do?”
“I think so.”
Alfred looked inside the camper, presumably rehearsing in his mind the sequence he had to go through. Penny had an urge to tell him to be careful, but she suppressed it. It was in her best interests that he not be careful, and she found herself wishing for that eventuality. She was becoming a terrible person. She reminded herself that she couldn’t get any worse than she was already.
They gave a final shove, and the camper started rolling, slowly, by itself. It would quickly pick up speed on the slope. Penny stepped over to the side of it to see if Alfred had control of the situation. He didn’t look very coordinated.
He was walking beside the camper with one hand on the steering wheel. He swung his right leg inside but in an awkward fashion, and he didn’t seem to be able to get his left leg in. The camper was picking up speed. His left leg bounced along the ground. It looked as if he were trying to run on one leg.
He gave a big yank on the steering wheel and jerked his left leg inside, but the camper veered toward the ditch at the edge of the road. Then it swerved toward the trees on the other side as he turned the wheel in that direction. Then it straightened out. Alfred should stop it now and gain full control before he tried to start the engine. He could easily get it rolling again.
Instead, he was apparently trying to start it immediately. Penny heard the sound of the engine coughing at the same time the camper bucked violently. He had put it in first gear, and it was going too fast for first gear. Penny had forgotten to tell him to use second gear. Or perhaps she hadn’t forgotten.
The camper swerved again, and this time the right front hit a tree before Alfred could control it. The tree stopped it with a jolt. Penny found her heart racing; she was glad she wasn’t inside.
She ran forward to the open front door to see if Alfred was okay. His forehead was bleeding, but somehow the engine was still running. He had instinctively depressed the clutch. She pulled on the hand brake and reached across his body to shift the camper into neutral. Now the engine would keep running even if he couldn’t hold the clutch down.
“Are you all right?”
He looked at her for a moment without comprehension. Then he said, “Yeah, I’m all right.”
He didn’t sound all right. He sounded groggy.
“Did you hit your head on the windshield?”