ALSOBYRILEYSAGER
FinalGirls
TheLastTimeILied
LockEveryDoor
HomeBeforeDark
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CONTENTS
Cover
AlsobyRileySager
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
NineP.M.
Int.DormRoom—DayInt.DormRoom—NightExt.DormBuilding—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—Night
TenP.M.
Int.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.RestStopBathroom—NightInt.RestStopBathroom—NightExt.RestStopParkingLot—Night
ElevenP.M.
Int.RestStopBuilding—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.Diner—NightExt.Diner—NightInt.Robbie’sApartment—NightInt.Diner—NightInt.Diner—NightInt.DinerBathroom—NightInt.DinerBathroom—Night
Midnight
Int.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.GrandAm—NightExt.DinerParkingLot—Night
OneA.M.
Int.DormRoom—DayInt.Diner—NightExt.DinerParkingLot—NightInt.Volvo—NightInt.GrandAm—NightInt.Cadillac—NightInt.LodgeLobby—Night
TwoA.M.
Int.GrandAm—NightInt.LodgeLobby—NightExt.Lodge—NightInt.LodgeLobby—NightInt.Lodge—NightInt.Ballroom—NightExt.Alley—NightExt.LodgeVeranda—Night
ThreeA.M.
Ext.Lodge—NightInt.Volvo—NightInt.Volvo—NightInt.Volvo—NightInt.Volvo—NightInt.Volvo—Night
Morning
Int.Hospital—DayInt.HospitalRoom—DayExt.Lodge—Day
EndCredits
AbouttheAuthor
Fastenyourseatbelts.It’sgoingtobeabumpynight.
—AllAboutEve
Fadein.
Parkinglot.
Themiddleofnight.
Themiddleofnowhere.
Beginningattheend,likeagreatfilmnoir.BillHoldendeadintheswimmingpool.FredMacMurraygivinghislastconfession.
Goingfullcircle.Likeanoose.
There’sacar,adiner,aneonsignintheparkinglotfadingtostreaksintherearviewmirrorasthecarspeedsaway.Insidearetwopeople—ayoungwomaninthepassengerseatandamanbehindthewheel.Bothstarethroughthewindshieldtotheroadahead,uncertain.
Aboutwhotheyare.
Aboutwherethey’regoing.
Abouthowtheygothere,tothisprecisemomentintime.Justbeforemidnight.ThefinalsecondsofTuesday,November19,1991.
ButCharlieknowswhatbroughtthemtothecuspofthisuncertainnewday.Asthesituationunfoldsframebyframe,likefilmthroughaprojector,sheknowsexactlyhowitallhappened.
Sheknowsbecausethisisn’tamovie.
It’sthehereandnow.
She’sthegirlinthecar.
Themanbehindthewheelisakiller.
AndCharlieunderstands,withthecertaintyofsomeonewho’sseenthiskindofmovieahundredtimesbefore,thatonlyoneofthemwilllivetoseethedawn.
NINEP.M.
INT.DORMROOM—DAY
Stayingisn’tanoption.
That’swhyCharliehasagreedtogetintoacarwithaperfectstranger.
She’spromisedRobbie—promisedherselfaswell—thatshe’llboltifanythingaboutthesituationstrikesherasshady.Onecan’tbetoocareful.Notthesedays.
NotafterwhathappenedtoMaddy.
Charliehasalreadysteeledherselfforflight,mentallylistingallthescenariosinwhichsheshouldrun.Ifthecarlooksbatteredand/orhastintedwindows.Ifsomeoneelseisinside,nomattertheexcuse.Ifheseemstooeagertodepartor,ontheflipside,nothurriedenough.She’ssworn—toRobbie,toherself,toMaddy,whomshestillsometimestalkstoeventhoughshe’snowtwomonthsinthegrave—thatasingleshiverofapprehensionwillsendherrunningbacktothedorm.
Shedoubtsitwillcometothat.Becauseheseemsnice.Friendly.Definitelynotthetypeofguywho’ddothethingsthathadbeendonetoMaddyandtheothers
Besides,he’snotastranger.Notcompletely.They’dmetoncebefore,infrontoftherideboardinthecampuscommons,dwarfedbythatwallofflyersfromstudentsdesperatetogethomeandthoseeagertodrivethemthereinexchangeforgasmoney.Charliehadjustputupherownflyer—carefullyprinted,herphonenumberplacedoneachmeticulouslycuttab—whenheappearedatherside.
“You’regoingtoYoungstown?”hesaid,hisgazeflickingfromhertotheflyerandbackagain.
Charliehesitatedbeforeresponding.Apost-Maddyhabit.Sheneverwillinglyengagedwithpeopleshedidn’tknow.Notuntilshehadagraspontheirintentions.Hecouldhavebeenmakingsmalltalk.Ortryingtopickherup.Unlikely,butnotentirelyoutoftherealmofpossibility.ItwashowshemetRobbie,afterall.She’dbeenprettyonce,beforeguiltandgriefhadsunktheirclawsintoher.
“Yeah,”sheeventuallysaid,afterhisgazereturnedtotherideboard,makingherdecidehewasthereforthesamereasonshewas.“Thatwhereyou’reheading?”
“Akron,”hesaid.
HearingthatmadeCharliestandatattention.NotquiteYoungstown,butcloseenough.Aquickstoponthewaytohisfinaldestination.
“Riderordriver?”sheasked.
“Driver.Washopingtofindsomeonewillingtosplitthecostofgas.”
“Icouldbethatsomeone,”shesaid,lettinghimlookherover,givinghimthechancetodecideifshewasthetypeofpersonhe’dwanttospendhoursaloneinacarwith.Sheknewwhatkindofvibeshegaveoff—anangrydournessthatwouldhavemadeguyslikehimtellhertosmilemoreifshehadn’tlookedlikeshe’dpunchthemfordoingso.Doomandgloomhoveredoverherlikearaincloud
Charliestudiedhimrightback.Heappearedtobeafewyearsolderthanthetypicalstudent,althoughthatcouldhavebeenaproductofhissize.Hewasbig.Tall,broad-chested,square-jawed.WearingjeansandanOlyphantUniversitysweatshirt,helooked,Charliethought,liketheheroofafortiescampuscomedy.Orthevillaininaneightiesone.
SheassumedhewasagradstudentlikeRobbie.Oneofthosepeoplewhogotatasteforcollegelifeanddecidedtheyneverwantedtoleave.Buthehadnicehair,somethingCharliestillnoticedeventhoughshe’dletherowngrowlimpandscraggly.Greatsmile,too,whichheflashedwhenhesaid,“Possibly.Whenwereyoulookingtoleave?”
Charliegesturedtoherflyerandthefourlettersplacedall-capsinthedeadcenterofthepage.
ASAP
Hetoreatabfromthebottomoftheflyer,leavingagapthatbroughttoCharlie’smindamissingtooth.Thethoughtmadehershudder.
Themanplacedthetorn-offtabinhiswallet.“I’llseewhatIcando.”
Charliehadn’texpectedaresponse.ItwasthemiddleoftheweekinthemiddleofNovember,withThanksgivingjusttendaysaway.Noonewaslookingtoleavecampusthen.Noonebuther.
Butthatnight,herphonerang,andavaguelyfamiliarvoiceontheotherendsaid,“Hi,it’sJosh.Fromtherideboard.”
Charlie,who’dbeensittinginherdormstaringatthehalfofroomthathadoncebeenfilledwithallthingsMaddybutnowsatlifelessandbare,amusedherselfbyresponding,“Hi,Joshfromtherideboard.”
“Hi—”Joshpaused,nodoubtcheckingthepapertabinhishandforthenameofthegirlhewascalling.“Charlie.IjustwantedtotellyouthatIcanleavetomorrow,butitwon’tbeuntillate.Nineo’clock.Ifyouwant,there’saspaceinthepassengerseatwithyournameonit.”
“I’lltakeit.”
Andthatwasthat.
Nowtomorrowistoday,andCharlieishavingonelastlookatthedormroomshe’llmostlikelynevercomebackto.Hergazesweepsslowlyacrosstheroom,makingsuretotakeineveryinchoftheplaceshe’scalledhomeforthepastthreeyears.Thecluttereddesks.Thebedspiledwithpillows.ThestrandoffairylightsMaddyhadputuptheirfirstChristmasandneverbotheredtotakedown,nowinfulltwinkle.
Thegoldensunlightofanautumnafternoonstreamsthroughthewindow,givingeverythingasepiaglowandmakingCharliefeelbothjoyandsadness.Nostalgia.Thatbeautifulache.
Someoneenterstheroombehindher.
Maddy.
Charliesmellsherperfume.ChanelNo.5.
“Whatadump,”Maddysays.
AmelancholysmileplaysacrossCharlie’slips.“IthinkI—”
“Charlie.”
INT.DORMROOM—NIGHT
ThesoundofRobbie’svoicefromtheopendoorbreaksthespelllikeafingersnap.Inablink,theroomhaslostitsmagic.Thedesksarebare.Thebedsarestripped.Thefairylightsremain,onlythey’reunpluggedandhavebeenthatwayformonths.Atthewindow,Charlieseesnotwarmsunlightbutastarkrectangleofdarkness.
AsforMaddy,she’slonggone.Noteventhefaintesttraceofherperfumeremains.
“It’snine,”Robbiesays.“Weshouldgetgoing.”
Charliestandsinthecenteroftheroom,stillmomentarilylost.Howstrangeitis—howutterlyjarring—togofromthepictureinhermind’seyetoharshreality.There’snohappinessleftinthisroom.Sheseesthatnow.It’sjustawhite-walledboxthatcontainsonlymemoriesnowsouredbytragedy.
Robbiewatchesherfromthedoorway.Heknowswhatjusthappened.
Amovieinhermind.
ThatRobbie’sneverbeenbotheredbythemisoneofthethingsshelovesabouthim.Heknowsherstory,knowsherobsessions,understandstherest.
“Didyoutakeyourpilltoday?”
Charlieswallowsandnods.“Yeah.”
“Andyou’reallpacked?”Robbiesays,asifshe’ssimplygoingawayfortheweekendandnot,inalllikelihood,forever.
“Ithinkso.Itwasn’teasy.”
Shehadspentmostofthedaysortingherthingsbetweentwopiles:takeorleavebehind.Sheendeduptakingverylittle.JusttwosuitcaseswithallherclothesstuffedinsideandaboxfilledwithmementosandherbelovedVHStapes.Therestwentintoboxesconscientiouslyplacedinthemiddleoftheroom,makingiteasierforthecustodianassignedtodisposeofitallwhentheyrealizeshe’snevercomingback.
“Youcantakemoretimeifyouneedit,”Robbiesays.“Youdon’thavetoleavetonight.AndIcanstilldriveifyou’rewillingtowaituntiltheweekend.”
Charlieunderstands.Buttoher,waiting—evenjustafewmoredays—isasunthinkableasstaying.
“Ithinkit’stoolatetobackoutnow.”
Shegrabshercoat.Well,Maddy’scoat.Ahand-me-downfromhergrandmotheraccidentallyleftbehindwhentherestofherbelongingswerecartedaway.CharliefounditunderMaddy’sbedandclaimeditasherown.It’svintage—fromthefifties—anduncharacteristicallydramaticforCharlie,whousuallyfavorsanythingthatmakesherblendinwiththecrowd.Madeofbrightredwool,thecoathasamassivecollarshapedlikebutterflywingsthatcometogetherasCharliebuttonsittoherchin.
Robbietakeshersuitcases,leavingCharliecradlingtheboxandtheJanSportbackpacksheusesinsteadofapurse.Shedoesn’tlockthedoorbehindher.Whybother?Herlastactbeforedepartingistowipeawaythenamesscrawledinerasablemarkeronthewhiteboardaffixedtothedoor.
Charlie+Maddy
Thewordsleaveasmudgeofinkonherpalm.
Theydepartquicklyandquietly,unnoticedbytheothergirlsonherfloor,mostofwhomaregatheredintheTVloungedownthehall.CharliehearsthebrayingvoiceofRoseanneBarr,followedbycannedlaughter.Eventhoughsheneverunderstoodherdorm’stelevisionobsession—whywatchTVwhenmoviesaresomuchbetter?—tonightCharliewelcomesthedistraction.Herplanistoskipthegoodbyes.Althoughsheusedtobegoodfriendswithmanygirlsonherfloor,thatallendedthemomentMaddydied.Nowit’sbesttosimplyvanish.Hereonemoment,gonethenext.JustlikeMaddyherself.
“Thiswillbegoodforyou,”Robbiesaysastheyridetheelevatortothefirstfloor.Charlienotesthehollownessofhisvoice,makingitclearhethinkstheopposite.“Alittletimeawayisallyouneed.”
InthethreedayssinceCharlieannouncedherintentiontoleaveschool,Robbiehasremainedsweetlyindenialaboutwhatitmeansforthemasacouple.DespitepromisestobetruetoeachotherandhastilymadeplansforRobbietovisitYoungstownoverChristmasbreak,Charlieknowstherealityofthesituation.
Theirrelationshipisending.
Notinaboth-going-our-separate-waysway.DefinitelynotinaRhettButler“Frankly,mydear,Idon’tgiveadamn”way.ButCharlieunderstandsthatsomekindofbreakupwillbetheinevitableresult.She’llbetwostatesandfourhundredmilesaway.He’llstillbeatOlyphant,remaining,touseMaddy’sphraseaftershe’dfirstmethim,acatch.RobbieWilson,thecampusmathnerdandassistantswimmingcoachwiththeRichardGerechinandtheBradPittabs.Already,girlsarecircling,eagertotakeCharlie’splace.Shecanonlyassumeoneofthemwilleventuallysucceed.
Ifthat’sthepriceshemustpaytogetoutofthisplace,thensobeit.Heronlyhopeisthatshewon’teventuallycometoregretit.
EXT.DORMBUILDING—NIGHT
Thedormlobbyisemptywhentheystepoutoftheelevator.Soisthesnow-dustedquadtheycutacrossontheirwaytotheparkinglot.Despitewinter’sarrival,windowsareopeninafewoftheupper-floordorms,leakingoutthenow-familiarsoundsofcampuslife.Laughter.ThebeepofoneofOlyphant’sinfamouslyunreliablein-roommicrowaves.Musicplayedlouderthandormrulesallow.Charlierecognizesthesong.SiouxsieandtheBanshees.“KissThemforMe.”
Maddyhadlovedthatsong.
Oncethey’reoutofthequadandatthecurb,Robbiedropshersuitcasesnexttoastreetlamp—thedesignatedmeetingspot.
“Iguessthisisit,”hesays.
Charliebracesforanothervariationoftheconversationthey’vehadadozentimes.Isshesuresheneedstoleave?Isthereanypossibilityshecouldstickitoutuntiltheendofthesemester?
Heranswer’sbeenthesameeverytime.Yes,shehastogo.No,shecan’tmakeittofinals.Therewasatime,shortlyafterMaddydied,whenshethoughtsuchascenariowaspossible.
Notanymore.
NowCharlieunderstandswithsoul-deepcertaintythatsheneedstogetthehelloutofDodge.
She’sstoppedgoingtoclass,stoppedtalkingtofriends,stoppedalmosteveryaspectofherpreviouslife.Aconstantpumpingonthebrakesofherexistence.Nowit’stimetostartmovingagain,evenifthatmovementisreallyjustrunningaway.
Tohiscredit,Robbiedoesn’tmakeonelast-ditchattempttogethertostay.Charliesuspectsshe’swornhimdown.Nowallthat’slefttodoissaytheirgoodbyes.
Robbieleansinforakissandatighthug.Wrappedinhisembrace,Charliefeelsastabofguiltaboutherdecisiontoleave,whichwascausedbyanother,fardifferentsenseofguilt.It’saRussiandollofremorse.Guilttuckedintoguiltthatshe’sruiningtheonlythingthathasyettoberuined.
“I’msorry,”shesays,surprisedbythehitchinhervoicethatshe’sforcedtoswallowdown.“Iknowthisishard.”
“It’sbeenworseforyou,”Robbiesays.“Iunderstandwhyyouneedtodothis.Ishouldhaveunderstoodsooner.AndwhatIhopehappensisthatyourtimeawaywillbeexactlywhatyouneedandthatwhenthespringsemesterrollsaround,you’llbereadytocomebacktome.”
Charlie’shitwithanotherpangofguiltasRobbielooksdownatherwiththosehugebrowneyesofhis.Bambieyes,Maddyusedtocallthem.SoroundandsoulfulthatCharliecouldn’thelpbutbemesmerizedthefirsttimetheymet.
Althoughshesuspectsthatinitialmeetingwasprobablymundane,hermemoryofitislikesomethingoutofaclassicromanticcomedy.Itwasatthelibrary,sheasophomorestrungoutonDietCokeandmidtermstressandRobbiearidiculouslyhandsomefirst-yeargradstudentsimplylookingforaplacetosit.Hechosehertable,onethatcomfortablysatfourbuthadbeencommandeeredbyCharlieandallthebooksshe’dspreadacrossit.
“Roomforonemore?”hesaid.
CharlielookedupfromthePaulineKaelbookshewasreading,sawthoseeyes,andpromptlyfroze.“Um,sure.”
Shedidn’tclearspaceforhim.Didn’tmoveatall,infact.Sheonlystared.SomuchsothatRobbieswipedapalmacrosshischeekandsaid,“DoIhavesomethingonmyface?”
Shelaughed.Hesat.Theystartedchatting.Aboutmidterms.Andcollegelife.Andlifeingeneral.ShelearnedthatRobbiehadbeenanundergradatOlyphantandchosetoremainthereforhisgraduatestudies,wellonhiswaytobecomingamathprofessor.RobbielearnedthatCharlie’sparentstookhertoseeE.T.threetimesinthetheatersandthatshebawledallthewayhomeaftereachscreening.
Theyendeduptalkinguntilthelibraryclosed.Andtalkingmoreafterthatatanall-nightdineroff-campus.TheywerestilltalkingwhentheystrolleduptoCharlie’sdormattwoa.m.ThatwaswhenRobbietoldher,“Justsoyouknow,Iwasn’treallylookingforaplacetosit.Ijustneededanexcusetotalktoyou.”
“Why?”
“Becauseyou’respecial,”hesaid.“IcouldtellthemomentIsawyou.”
Justlikethat,Charliewassmitten.ShelikedRobbie’slooks,obviously,andhowheseemedtobeoblivioustothem.Shelikedhissenseofhumor.Andthathedidn’tcareatallaboutmovies,whichseemedsorefreshinglyforeigntoher.ItwasafarcryfromtheGodfather-obsessedman-childrenwhopopulatedmostofherfilmclasses.
Foratime,thingsweregoodbetweenthem.Evengreat.ThenMaddydiedandCharliechanged,andnowthere’snogoingbacktobeingthegirlshewasthatnightatthelibrary.
Robbiecheckshiswatchandannouncesthetime.Fivepastnine.Joshislate.Charliewonderswherethatshouldfallontheworryspectrum.
“Youdon’tneedtowaitwithme,”shesays.
“Iwantto,”Robbiesays.
Charlieknowssheshouldwantthat,too.Itwouldbenormaltowanttospendasmuchtimewithhimaspossiblebeforetheypart.But,toher,normaliswantingtoavoidarushedgoodbyeinfrontofanalmostcompletestranger.Normalisdesiringasad,quietfarewellwitnessedbynooneelsebutthem.BogartputtingBergmanontheplaneattheendofCasablanca.StreisandsweepingahandthroughRedford’shairinTheWayWeWere
“It’scold,”shesays.“Yougoonbacktoyourapartment.Iknowyouhaveanearlyclasstomorrow.”
“Yousure?”
Charlienods.“I’llbefine.Iswear.”
“Callmewhenyougethome,”Robbiesays.“Nomatterhowlateitis.Andcallmefromtheroad,ifyouseeapayphone.Letmeknowyou’resafe.”
“We’redrivingfromNewJerseytoOhio.Theonlydangerisdyingofboredom.”
“That’snotwhatImean.”
Charlieknows,becauseshe’sthinkingwhatRobbie’sthinking.Thethingneitherofthemwantstoarticulatebecauseitwillruinthisgoodbye.
Maddywaskilled.
Byastranger.
Onewho’sstilloutthere.Somewhere.Likelywaitingtodoitagain.
“I’lltrytocall,”Charliesays.“Ipromise.”
“Pretendit’soneofthosemoviesyouwerealwaysmakingmewatch,”Robbiesays.“TheoneswiththeFrench-soundingname.”
“Filmnoir?”Charlieshakesherhead.Afterayearofdating,hasshetaughthimnothing?
“Yeah,oneofthose.You’rebeingheldcaptiveagainstyourwillandtheonlywaytogethelpisbyspeakingincodetoyourworriedboyfriend.”
“What’sthecode?”Charliesays,playingalong,gratefulforthewayRobbie’schoosingtowrapupthisgoodbye.
Notsad.
Cinematic.
“?‘Thingstookadetour.’?”
ThewayRobbiesaysitmakesCharlieassumehe’stryingtoimitateBogart,eventhoughitsoundsmorelikeJimmyStewarttoherears.
“Andifeverythingisfine?”
“?‘It’ssmoothsailing,sweetheart.’?”
ThistimehereallydoessoundlikeBogart,andhearingitmakesCharlie’sheartcrackopenabit.
“Iloveyou,”shesays.
“Iknow.”
Charliecan’ttellifRobbie’sresponseisanintentionalStarWarsreferenceorifit’sjustahappyaccident.Eitherway,shedoesn’tcare,becausenowhe’skissingheragainandhuggingheronelasttimeandsayinggoodbyeforreal,inawaythat’ssadderthananymovie.Thepaininherchestgrows—anacuteacheCharlieexpectswillstaywithhertheentireridehome.
“You’restillspecial,Charlie,”Robbiesays.“Ineedyoutoknowthat.”
Thenhe’sgoneandit’sonlyher.Standingaloneatthecurbwithherboxandtwosuitcases,thesituationfinallyfeelsreal.
She’sdoingit.
She’sactuallyleaving.
Inafewhoursshe’llbehome,probablywatchingamoviewithNanaNorma,maybeonherwaytoreturningtothepersonsheusedtobe.
Charlieopensherbackpackandfishesouttheorangepillbottlethat’sbeenrattlingaroundatthebottomofitsinceSeptember.Insidethebottleismoreorange—tinytabletsthatalwaysremindedherofM&M’swhenshetookone.Backwhenshedidtakethem.
SheliedtoRobbieaboutthat.It’sbeenthreedayssinceshegulpedonedown,eventhoughthepsychiatristwhoprescribedthempromisedthey’dkeepthemoviesinhermindatbay.Andtheydid.Buttheyalsomadeherbothdrowsyandrestless,herbodyconstantlyveeringbetweenthosetwoextremes.Theresultwasweeksofsleeplessnightsandlostdays.Avampire.That’swhattheorangepillsturnedherinto.
Tocounteractthat,thepsychiatristalsogaveCharlieaprescriptionforlittlewhitepillstohelphersleep.
Thosewereworse.
Somuchworsethatshehadalreadygottenridofthem.
Nowit’stimetosaygoodbyetotheorangeones.She’sthroughwithpillsofanycolor.
Charliestepsoffthecurbandwalksafewyardstoastormdraincarvedintotheasphalt.Shepoursthepillsintoit,enjoyingthetwingeofsatisfactionshegetsfromwatchingthembounceoffthemetalgratebeforedroppingintothedarknessbelow.Thebottlegoesintoanearbytrashcan.
Returningtoherboxandsuitcases,Charliepullsherredcoattighteraroundher.TheNovembernightispitchedpreciselybetweenautumnandwinter.Theskyisclearandthestarsarebright,butthere’sasharpchilltotheairthatmakeshershiver.Ormaybetheshivercomesfromthefactthatshe’snowaloneoutsidewhilethere’sakillerontheloose.
Evenifshedidn’trealizethatdangeronherown,she’dberemindedbytheTakeBacktheNightflyertapedtothestreetlampnexttoher.TheflyersareadirectresponsetoMaddy’smurder.Aswerethecandlelitvigils.Andguestspeakers.Andgriefcounselorswhodescendedontocampusarmedwithpamphletsandgoodintentions.
Charlieavoidedallofit,preferringtogrievealone.Asaresult,shealsomissedoutonthesenseoffearthat’sgrippedcampusforthepasttwomonths.Shespentmostofhertimelockedinherroomandthushadnoreasontobescared.
Now,however,shefeelsafrigidtingleonthebackofherneck.Nothelpingisthelistofrulesprintedontheflyer,mostofwhichshe’scurrentlydisobeying.
Nevergooutaloneatnight.
Alwayswalkinpairs.
Alwaystellsomeonewhereyou’regoing.
Nevertrustastranger.
ThatlastonegivesCharliepause.Becauseasmuchasshelikestothinkotherwise,Joshisastranger.Orhewillbe,ifheevershowsup.Charliedoesn’twearawatchandhasnocluewhattimeitis.Butshesuspectsit’sclosetoquarterafternine.Ifhedoesn’tshowupsoon,she’llhavenochoicebuttoreturntothedorm.Sheprobablyshouldhavedonethatalready.Hell,accordingtotheTakeBacktheNightflyer,sheshouldn’tevenbehereatall,aloneatthecurbwithsuitcasesandabox,clearlylookinglikesomeoneabouttoleaveandwhonoonewouldmissforafewdays.
Becauseherneedtogetawayfaroutweighsherfear,shestaysput,watchingtheentrancetotheparkinglot.Soonenough,adouble-barreledglowappearsonthehorizon.
Headlights.
Theyswoopfartherintothelotbeforecurvinginawidearcandaimingrightather.Shesquintsagainsttheirbrightnessandlookstothesidewalk,wherehershadowstretcheslikeaghostintothesnow-dustedgrassbehindher.Asecondlater,acariswaitingatthecurb.Thedriver’s-sidedooropens,andJoshclimbsout.
“Charlie,hi,”hesays,speakingthewordswithashysmile,asifitwereafirstdate.
“Hey.”
“Sorryaboutthenightdrive,”Joshsays.“Itcouldn’tbehelped.”
“Idon’tmind.”
Inthepasttwomonths,Charlie’sbecomewell-acquaintedwiththedark.Morenightsthannot,shewaswideawakeuntildawn,thanksinparttoherpills,thedormroomaglowfromthelightoftheTVandwhatevermovieshehappenedtobewatching.
“Well,yourchariotawaits,”Joshsaysashepatstheroofofthecar.“Notquitealimousine,butit’llgetuswhereweneedtogo.”
Charlietakesamomenttoexaminethecar.Theslate-grayPontiacGrandAm—tohereye,atleast—looksfarfromjunky.Exteriorfreshlywashed.Noobviousscratchesordents.Definitelynotintedwindows.Charliecanseerightintothefrontseat,whichisblessedlyempty.It’sthekindofcarherfathermightdrive,ifhewasstillaround.Sensible.Hopefullydependable.Acarbuilttoblendinwiththecrowd.
Josheyestheboxandsuitcasesatherfeet.“Ididn’tthinkyou’dbebringingthatmuch.Youplanonbeinggoneawhile?”
“Hopefullynottoolong,”Charliesays,notmeaningitbutalsowonderingifshesecretlydoes.Andwhyshouldn’tshewantthat?Doesn’tsheoweittoRobbietoatleasttrytocomebackforthespringsemester?Doesn’tsheoweittoherself?
EventhoughMaddy’sthereasonshe’sdoingallthis,Charlieknowsshe’ddisapprove.
You’rebeinganidiot,darling.That’swhatMaddywouldhavesaidaboutherplantoleavecampus.
“Isthereenoughroomforitall?”Charliesays.
“Plenty,”Joshsaysashequicklymovestothebackofthecarandunlocksthetrunk.
Charliegrabsthecardboardboxandstartstocarryittowardtheopentrunk.Joshswoopsinbeforeshecangetnearit,takingtheboxfromherarmsandleavingCharlieonlywithherbackpack.
“Letmegetthatforyou,”hesays.
Herarmssuddenlyunburdened,CharliespendsthenextfewsecondswatchingJoshloadherthingsintothetrunk.Inthatshortspanoftime,shenoticessomethingstrangeaboutthewayhe’sstanding.Ratherthanpackeverythingfromdirectlybehindthecar,Joshremainsatanangle,hisbroadbackblockingwhateverviewCharliemightgetoftheopentrunk.Almostasifthere’ssomethingelseinside.Somethinghedoesn’twanthertosee.
Charliesuspectsit’snothing.
Sheknowsit’snothing.
Peoplesometimesdoweirdthings.She’sthegirlwhoseesmoviesinhermind,andJoshistheguywhofillshistrunkinaweirdway.Endofstory.
ButthenJoshturnsaroundafterslammingthetrunkshutandshenoticessomethingelseabouthim.Somethingthat,tohermind,isstrangerthanhowheloadedthetrunk.
Joshisdressedthesameashewasattherideboard.
Exactlythesame.
Samejeans.Samesweatshirt.Samenicehair.Yes,they’reatacollegeandeveryonedresseslikethis;it’stheunofficialuniformofOlyphant.ButJoshwearsituncomfortably,almostlikethesearenothisnormalclothes.Thereis,Charlierealizes,abitofCentralCastingtohislook,asifhe’sbeenhiredasanextra.GenericCollegeHunk#2.
Joshsmilesagain,andCharlienoticesthatit’sabsolutelyperfect.Thesmileofamatineeidol,intimidatinginitsfullglory.Itmightbesexy.Itmightbesinister.Charliecan’tdecidewhich.
“We’reallset,”hesays.“Readytoditchthispopstand?”
Charliedoesn’timmediatelyanswer.She’sdistractedbytheideathattheseallcouldbewarningsigns.Thetrunk.Theclothes.They’reexactlythekindsofthingsshe’dswornwouldmakeherturnaroundandgostraightbacktoherdorm.
It’snottoolateforthat.ShecouldeasilyinformJoshshe’schangedhermindandthatheshouldjusttakeherthingsoutofthetrunk.Instead,shetellsherselftostopbeingsosuspicious.Thisisn’taboutJosh.Orwhathe’swearing.Orhowheloadsthetrunk.It’saboutherandthefactthat,nowthatshe’sonthecuspofleaving,she’ssuddenlyseekingoutreasonstostay.
Andtherearereasons.Sheshouldgetaneducation.Sheloveshermajor.Thenthere’sthesimplefactthatitwouldmakeRobbiehappy.
Butwouldshebehappy?
Charliedoesn’tthinkso.
Shecouldpretendtobe,forRobbie’ssake.Shecouldgothroughthemotions,justlikeshe’sbeendoingsinceSeptember.Andmaybe—justmaybe—thestormcloudshe’sbeenlivingunderwouldeventuallyliftandshecouldgobacktobeinganormalcollegestudent.Well,semi-normal.Charliehasenoughself-awarenesstoknowshe’llneverbeexactlylikeeveryoneelse.Therealwayshasbeenandalwayswillbeanauraofeccentricityabouther.Andthat’sokay.
What’snotokay,atleasttoCharlie,isremaininginaplacewhereshe’smiserable.Whereshe’sremindeddailyofadeep,painfulloss.Wherememoriesstingandguiltlingersandnotaweek,day,hourgoesbyinwhichshedoesn’tthink,Ishouldn’thavelefther.Ishouldhavestoppedhim.Ishouldhavesavedher.
ShelooksatJosh,stillpatientlywaitingforananswer.
“AsreadyasI’lleverbe,”shesays.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charlielearnedtodriveinthecarherparentswouldlaterdiein.
Itwasherfatherwhotaughther,hispatiencethinningwitheachlurchingspinaroundthehighschoolparkinglot.HeinsistedCharlielearnhowtodrivestickbecause,inhiswords,“Thenyou’llbeabletodriveanything.”
Butthemanualtransmissionbaffledher.Threepedalsinsteadoftwo,likeinhermother’scar,andallthosestepsshehadtofollow.Adanceshedidn’tknowandthoughtshe’dnever,evermaster.
Leftfootclutch.
Rightfootbrake.
Neutral.Ignition.Accelerate.
IttookanentireafternoonofpracticebeforeCharliecoulddriveasinglelaparoundthelotwithoutstallingorgrindingthegearsinawaythatmadeherfatherbreakoutinacoldsweat.IttooktwomoreweeksbeforeshetrulyfeltcomfortablebehindthewheelofthatmaroonChevyCitation.Butoncethathappened,therestcamequicklytoher.Thethree-pointturnsandparallelparkingandslalomsthroughtrafficconesherfatherhadborrowedfromabuddywhoworkedconstruction.
Sheacedherlicenseexamonthefirsttry,unlikeherbestfriend,Jamie,whoneededthreeattemptsbeforeshepassed.Afterward,Charlieandherfatherwentoutforcelebratoryicecream,herbehindthewheelandhimcontinuinghislessonswithadviceofferedfromthepassengerseat.
“Neverdrivemorethanfivemilesoverthespeedlimit,”hetoldher.“Copswon’tbotheryou.Notforthat.”
“Andoverfive?”Charlieasked,tauntinghimwiththeideathatsheintendedtobeaspeeddemon.
HerfathergaveheroneofthoseExcuseme?looksthathadbecomecommonduringherteenageyears.“Doyouwanttousethatbrand-newlicenseofyours?”
“Yes.”
“Thensticktothespeedlimit.”
AsCharlieshiftedthecarintosecondgear,herfatherseemedtoshift,too.Heleanedbackinhisseatandlethisgazeroamfromthewindshieldtothepassenger-sidewindow.
“YourmotherwouldbelividifsheeverfoundoutItoldyouthis,”hesaid,“butsometimes,inreallife,youcan’tavoidspeeding.Sometimesyouronlychoiceistodrivelikehell.”
AlthoughJoshdoesn’tdrivelikehell,keepinghisspeedatalegalforty-fivemilesperhourastheyleavecampus,it’sgoodenoughforCharlie.Aftertwomonthsofstasis,she’sfinallyinmotion.No,itwon’tchangewhathappened.Itcertainlywon’tchangeherroleinit.ButCharliehopesthisbitofmovementisthefirststeponthelongroadtoacceptanceandforgiveness.AndwhentheypassthebrightlylitOlyphantUniversitysignonthewayout,sheallowsherselftoenjoythesenseofreliefthatwrapsaroundherlikeawarmhug.
Ormaybethat’sjusttheheater,pumpingthroughslattedventsonthedashboard.Afterstandinginthecoldforsolong,Charliefeelssoothedbythewarmthandthefactthatthecarisascleaninsideasitisontheoutside.NodirtonthefloororMcDonald’swrappersonthefrontseat,likeinRobbie’scar.Itevensmellsclean,makingCharliethinkJoshcamestraightherefromafull-servicecarwash.Shecatchestracesofshampoorisingfromtheupholsteredseatbeneathher.Mixedwithitisthestrong,notentirelypleasantscentofpine,courtesyofatree-shapedairfreshenerdanglingfromtherearviewmirror.Itswingsastheyturnontothemainroadthatrunsparalleltotheuniversity,sendingafreshswathofpinestinkCharlie’sway.Shewrinkleshernoseatthesmell.
Joshnotices,becauseofcoursehedoes.Althoughnotacompactcarbyanymeans,thefrontseatoftheGrandAmkeepsthetwoofthemincloseproximity.Allthatseparatesthemisthecenterconsole,insideofwhichcomestherattleofloosechangeandplastictappingplastic.Joshsteerswithhislefthandandshiftswithright,hisforearmcomingwithininchesofCharlie’s.
“Sorryabouttheairfreshener,”hesays.“It’s,uh,potent.Icantakeitdown,ifyouwant.”
“It’sfine,”Charliesays,eventhoughshe’snotentirelysureitis.Normally,shelovesthesmellofpine.Asakid,she’dbringherfaceclosetoeachfreshlycutChristmastreeandinhaleitsscentinlung-fillinggulps.Butthisissomethingdifferent.Chemicalspretendingtobenature.ItmakesCharliewanttocrackopenthewindow.“I’msureI’llgetusedtoit.”
It’sagoodenoughanswerforJosh,whonodswhilestaringoutthewindshield.“Ididthemath,andIthinkthedriveshouldtakeusaboutsixhours,notcountingpitstops.”
Charliealreadyknowsthis,thankstosimilartripshome.IttakesahalfhourtoreachInterstate80,allofitonalocalroadlinedwithhobbyshops,dentistoffices,andtravelagencies.Onceonthehighway,it’saboutanotherthirtyminutesuntiltheycrosstheDelawareWaterGapintoPennsylvania.AfterthatcomesthePoconos,followedbyhoursofnothing.JustfieldsandforestsandmonotonyuntiltheyhitOhioand,soonafterthat,theexitforYoungstown.WhenJoshtoldhertheycouldn’tleaveuntilnine,sheresignedherselftonotgettinghomeuntilthreea.m.orlater.Shedidn’thavemuchofachoice.
“You’rewelcometosleepthewholeway,ifyouwant,”Joshsays.
Sleepingthroughthedriveisnotonthetable.Joshmightseemfriendlyandnice,butCharlieplanstobeconsciousduringtheentiretrip.
Alwaysremainalert.AnotherpieceofadviceonthatTakeBacktheNightflyer.
“I’llbeallright,”shesays.“Idon’tmindkeepingyoucompany.”
“ThenI’llbesuretomakeacoffeestopbeforewehitthehighway.”
“Soundsgood,”Charliesays.
“Good,”Joshreplies.
Andjustlikethat,theyrunoutofthingstosay.Itonlytooktwominutes.Sittingawkwardlyinthenewfoundsilence,Charliewondersifsheshouldsaysomething—anything—tokeeptheconversationrolling.It’ssomethingshe’sfrettedoversinceJoshagreedtogiveheraride—theetiquetteofbeinginacarwithanalmoststranger.
Sheknowsit’snotthesameasinthemovies,wheretwostrangersconfinedtogetherinacarfindendlessthingstotalkabout,usuallyleadingtoeitherromanceormurder.Butinreallife,ifyoutalktoomuch,you’reannoying.Ifyoudon’ttalkenough,you’rerude.
ThesamestandardsapplytoJosh.Asshepacked,Charliewasbothworriedhe’dbetoochattyandworriedhe’dsaynothingatall.Silencebetweenstrangersisdifferentfromthelongperiodsofquietshe’dexperiencedwithMaddyorRobbie.Withsomeoneyouknowandtrust,silencedoesn’tmatter.Withastranger,itcouldmeananything.
Astrangerisjustafriendyouhaven’tmetyet,Maddyusedtosay.Ironic,seeinghowshewasthemorejudgmentalofthetwoofthem.Charliewasmerelyawkwardandshy.Ittooktenaciousproddingtocoaxheroutofhershell.Maddywasthecompleteopposite.Outgoingandtheatrical,whichmadeherquicktotireofthosewhoeitherdidn’tshareherflairforthedramaticorfailedtoappreciateit.It’swhytheywereaperfectcombo:Maddyperformed,andCharliewatchedwithadoration.
“You’renotherfriend,”RobbieoncesaidinahuffafterMaddyhadshruggedoffplanswiththeminordertogotoakeggerwithhertheatermajorfriends.“You’reheraudience.”
WhatRobbiedidn’tunderstand—whathecouldn’tunderstand—wasthatCharlieknewanddidn’tcare.ShewasawillingaudiencetoMaddy’santics.Itgaveherquietlifethedramaitotherwisewouldhavelacked,andCharlielovedherforthat.
Butthat’sallovernow.Maddy’sdead.Charlie’sretreatedfromtheworld.Andsinceshe’llneverlayeyesonJoshagainoncetheyreachYoungstown,sheseesnopointinturninghimfromstrangertofriend.
Justassheresignsherselftospendingthenextsixhoursinawkward,pine-scentedsilence,Joshpipesupfrombehindthewheel,suddenlychatty.
“Sowhat’sinYoungstownthatyou’resoeagertogetbackto?”
“Mygrandmother.”
“Neat,”Joshsayswithanamiablenod.“Familyvisit?”
“Ilivewithher.”
Overtheyears,she’slearnedthatanswerrequireslessexplainingthanthetruth.TellingpeoplethathergrandmothertechnicallylivesinthehouseCharlieinheritedfromherdeadparentsusuallyleadstofollow-upquestions.
“Igottasay,Ididn’texpecttofindsomeonetosharethedrivewithme,”Joshsays.“Notmanypeopleareleavingcampus.Notthistimeofyear.Andeveryonethereseemstoownacar.Youevernoticethat?Theparkinglotsarefilled.I’msurprisedyoudon’thaveacar.”
“Idon’tdrive,”Charliesays,knowingitsoundslikeshedoesn’tknowhow.
Intruth,shedoesn’twanttodrive.Notsinceherparents’accident.Thelasttimeshewasbehindthewheelofacarwasthedaybeforetheydied.Whenherlicenseexpiredthreemonthsago,sheneverbotheredtorenewit.
Charlie’sokaywithbeingapassenger.Shehastobe.Sheknowsthatridinginacarisunavoidable,justlikesheknowssomethingbadcouldhappenregardlessofwhethershe’sbehindthewheelornot.Justlookathermother.ShewassimplyalongfortheridewhenCharlie’sfathersteeredthecaroffthehighwayandintothewoods,killingthembothinstantly.
Nooneknowswhatpromptedhimtodriveofftheroad,eventhoughtheoriesabound.Heswervedtomissadeer.Hehadaheartattackbehindthewheel.Somethingwenttragicallyawrywiththesteeringcolumn.
Accidentshappen.
That’swhatCharliewastoldintheweeksfollowingthecrash,whenitbecameclearshehadnointentionofeverdrivingagain.Accidentshappenandpeopledieandit’satragedy,butsheshouldn’tliveinfearofgettingbehindthewheelofacar.
Whatnooneunderstoodwasthatdyinginacarcrashwasn’twhatfrightenedCharlie.Culpability—thatwasherbigfear.Shedidn’twanttocausethesamepainherfatherhad.Iftherewasanaccidentandpeopledied,includingher,shedidn’twanttobetheoneresponsible.
TheironyisthatsomeonehasdiedandCharlieisresponsibleanditdidn’tinvolveacaratall.
“Luckywefoundeachother,Iguess,”Joshsays.“Youeverusetherideboardbefore?”
Charlieshakesherhead.“Firsttime.”
She’sneverhadtobefore.NanaNormausedtodrivehertocampusatthestartofasemesterandpickherupwhenitwasover.Afterhereyesightstartedgoingbadlastfallandshe,too,stoppeddriving,Robbietookover.TheonlyreasonCharlie’snotinhisVolvorightnowisbecausehecouldn’tfindsomeonetocoverhisTAandcoachingdutiesforthetwodaysitwouldtakeforhimtodrivetoYoungstownandback.
“Mine,too,”Joshsays.“Iwenttotheboardthinkingitwouldbeawasteoftime,andthereyouwere,justputtingupyourflyer.Charlie.Interestingnameyou’vegotthere,bytheway.Isthatshortforsomething?”
“Yes.Charles.”
Maddyhadlovedthatanswer.WheneverCharlieusedit—usuallyatwhateverloud,intimidatingmixershe’dbeendraggedto—Maddywouldletoutawickedcacklethatmadeherfeelpleasedwithherselfforcomingupwithit.Itwassassy,forCharlie.LikesomethingBarbaraStanwyckwouldhavesaidinascrewballcomedy.
“YourrealnameisCharles?”Joshsays.
“Itwasajoke,”Charliesays,bummedthatshe’sforcedtoexplainit.BarbaraStanwyckneverexplainedthings.“Notmyname.ThatreallyisCharlie,althoughit’snotshortforanything.Iwasnamedafteracharacterinamovie.”
“Aboycharacter?”
“Agirl.Who,incidentally,wasnamedafterheruncle.”
“What’sthemovie?”
“ShadowofaDoubt.”
“Neverheardofit.”
“AlfredHitchcock,”Charliesays.“Releasedin1943.StarringJosephCottenandTeresaWright.”
“Isitgood?”Joshasks.
“It’sverygood.Whichisluckyforme,becausewhowantstobenamedafteracharacterinashittymovie,right?”
Joshgivesheraglance,onebrowarched,lookingeitherimpressedorsurprisedbyherenthusiasm.ThatraisedbrowtellsCharlieshe’stalkingtoomuch,whichonlyhappenswhenthesubjectismovies.Shecouldbemuteforhours,butifsomeonementionsafilmtitle,thewordspourout.Maddyhadoncetoldherthatmovieswereherversionofwinecoolers.Theyreallyloosenyouup,shesaid.
Charlieknowsit’strue,whichiswhyaskingpeopleabouttheirfavoritemovieistheonlyicebreakershehas.Itinstantlytellsherhowmuchtimeandenergysheshouldspendonaperson.IfsomeonementionsHitchcockorFordorAltmanorevenArgento,they’reprobablyworthtalkingto.Ontheflipside,ifsomeonebringsupTheSoundofMusic,Charlieknowsit’sbesttojustwalkaway.
ButJoshseemsokaywithherchattiness.Givingaslightnodofagreement,hesays,“Notme.Itwouldbelikebeingnamedafteraserialkillerorsomething.”
“That’swhatthemovie’sabout,”Charliesays.“There’sthisgirlnamedCharlie.”
“Who’snamedafterheruncleandyou’renamedafterher.”
“Right.AndsheidolizesUncleCharlie,whichiswhyshe’ssohappywhenhecomestovisitforafewweeks.ButUncleCharlieisactingsuspicious,andonethingleadstoanotheruntilCharliebeginstosuspectheruncleisreallyaserialkiller.”
“Ishe?”
“Yes,”Charliesays.“Otherwiseitwouldn’tbemuchofamovie.”
“Whodoeshekill?”Joshasks.
“Wealthywidowsofacertainage.”
“Soundslikeonebaddude.”
“Heis.”
“Doeshegetawaywithit?”
“No.Charliestopshim.”
“Ithoughtso,”Joshsays.“Fromthewayyoutalkabouther,Iassumedshewasplucky.”
Charliefeelsaminorjoltattheword,mostlybecauseshe’snotsureshe’severheardsomeonesayitinconversationbefore.She’scertainnoonehaseverusedittodescribeher.She’sbeencalledalotofthingsinherlife.Weird?Yes.Shy?Yes.Standoffish?Sad,buttrue.Butneverplucky.Andknowingshe’snotpluckynowmakesCharliefeeloddlyguiltyfornotlivinguptothereputationsetbyhernamesake.
“Isthatyourthing?”Joshsays.“Movies?”
“They’remorethanjustmything,”Charliesays.“Moviesaremylife.Andmymajor.Filmtheory.”
“Like,learninghowtomakethem?”
“Studyingthem.Learninghowtheytick.Understandingwhatworksandwhatdoesn’t.Appreciatingthem.”
She’ssaidallthisbefore,atonetimeoranother.ToMaddy,whentheywerethrusttogetherinthesamedormroomthefirstdayoftheirfreshmanyear.ToRobbie,thenighttheymetinthelibrary.Toanyonewhowouldlisten,really.Charlieisadisciple,preachingthegospelofcinema.
“Butwhymovies?”Joshasks.
“Becausetheytakeourworldandimproveuponit,”Charliesays.“Moviesaremagicalthatway.Everythingismagnified.Thecolorsarebrighter.Theshadowsaredarker.Theactionmoreviolentandtheloveaffairsmorepassionate.Peoplebreakoutintosong.Ortheyusedto.Theemotions—love,hate,fear,laughter—areallbigger.Andthepeople!Allthosebeautifulfacesinfullclose-up.Sobeautifulit’shardtolookaway.”
Shepauses,awareshe’sbeensweptupinmovietalk.Butthere’sstillonemorethingshewantstosay.Sheneedstosayit,becauseit’strue.
“Moviesarelikelife,”shefinallysays.“Onlybetter.”
Sheleavesoutanothertruth,whichisthatyoucangetlostinmovies.Charlielearnedthatthedayherparentsdied,whenNanaNormacametostayforgood.
ThewreckhappenedonaSaturdaymorninginmid-July.Herparentshadleftearlytogotothelawnandgardenplacetwotownsover,wakingherlongenoughtosaythey’dbebackbyten.
Charliedidn’tthinkmuchofitwhentencameandwentandtheystillweren’thome.Samethingwhenthegrandfatherclockinthelivingroomstruckeleven.Fifteenminuteslater,acopcametothedoor.DeputyAnderson.HerfriendKatie’sdad.She’dsleptoveratKatie’shouseoncewhenshewasten,andMr.Andersonmadethempancakesthenextmorning.ItwasthefirstthingCharliethoughtofwhenshesawhimonthedoorstep.Mr.Andersonstandingoverthestove,spatulainhand,flippingpancakesaswideasdinnerplates.
Butthenshesawthehatinhishands.Andthegraytinttohisface.Andtheuncertainhalfshufflehedidonthewelcomemat,asifforcinghislegsnottorunaway.
Seeingallofthat,Charlieknewsomethinghorriblehadhappened.
DeputyAndersonclearedhisthroatandsaid,“I’mafraidIhavebadnews,Charlie.”
Shebarelyheardtherest,registeringonlythemostimportantsnippets.Accident.Highway.Killedinstantly.
Bythattime,Mrs.Andersonwasthere,nodoubtbroughtasbackup,pullingCharlieintoherarmsandsaying,“Istheresomeonewecancall,honey?Family?”
Charliewhimperedyes.TherewasNanaNorma.Andthenshebrokedowncryinganddidn’tstopuntilhourshadpassedandNanaNormawasthere.
NanaNormausedtobeanactress.Orhadtriedtobe.Assoonassheturnedeighteen,shedidthewholehop-on-a-bus-to-Hollywoodcliché,likeamillionothersmall-towngirlswho’dbeentoldtheywereprettyorhadtalent.NanaNormahadboth.Charlie’sseenthepicturesofthebeautifulbrunettewiththeRitaHayworthfigure,andshe’sheardhergrandmothersinginginthekitchenwhenshethoughtnooneelsewasaroundtohearit.
WhatyoungNormaHarrisondidn’thavewasluck.Afterayearofcheckingcoats,goingonauditions,andnotgettingevenamillimeterpastthedreamstage,shehoppedbackonthatbusandreturnedtoOhioalittleharderandalothumbled.
Butitdidn’tdiminishherloveofmovies.Orpictures,asshestillcallsthem,likeshe’sawalking,talkingVarietyheadline.
“Let’swatchapicture,”shesaidtoCharliethatfirst,awkwardnight,bothofthemtoobowledoverwithgrieftodoanythingbutsitthere,silentandshell-shocked.
Charliehadn’twantedto.Atthetime,shewasn’tmuchofamoviefan,despitealwaysknowinghowshegothername.ThatwasNanaNorma’sdoing.ShehadathingforHitchcockandinstilledthatloveinCharlie’smother.
“It’llmakeyoufeelbetter,”NanaNormatoldher.“Trustme.”
Charlierelentedandjoinedheronthecouch,wheretheywatchedoldmoviesallnightandintothedawn.Thecharacterstalkedtoughandsmokedanddrankglassafterglassofwhiskey.Eventhewomen.Thereweremurdersanddouble-crossesandstolenglancessoscorchedwithlustitmadeCharlie’scheeksturnred.
EvenbetterwasNanaNorma’srunningcommentary,inwhichCharliegotglimpsesofherHollywooddays.
“Niceguy,”shesaidofoneactor.“Dranktoomuch.”
“Wentonadatewithhimonce,”shesaidofanother.“Gottoohandsyformytaste.”
Whenearly-morningsunstartedtricklingthroughthelivingroomblinds,CharlierealizedNanaNormawasright.Shedidfeelbetter.Allthosechurningemotions—thepain,therage,thesadnesssothickshe’dthoughtshe’dsinkrightintoitlikequicksand—hadmomentarilylefther.
Theywatchedmoviesuntildawnthenextnight.
Andthenightafterthat.
Andtheoneafterthat.
BythetimeCharlierealizedtheywereusingcinematicfantasytoescapetheirhorriblereality,itwastoolate.Shewashooked.
Onthedayherparentswereburied,everythingfeltlargerthanlife.Theclosedcoffinssidebysideatthefrontofthechurchsatinapatchofsunlightcoloredbystained-glasswindows.Theflowersbehindthemburstoutoftheirvasesinrainbowbrightness,contrastingperfectlywiththeblack-cladmournerswhofannedthemselvesintheJulyheat.Whentheygatheredgraveside,theskywaspiercinglyblue.Therewasalightbreeze,too,onwhichtraveledthesoundofagospelchoir.Itwasallsobeautiful,inawaythatmadeCharliesadbutalsocomforted.Sheknewthatashardasthiswas,shewasgoingtogetthroughit.
Afterthefuneral,sheaskedNanaNormaifsheknewthenameofthehymnthechoirhadbeensingingasherparents’coffinswereloweredintotheground.
“Whathymn?”NanaNormahadasked.“Andwhatchoir?”
ThatwasthemomentCharlieknewtherealityofherparents’funeralwasfardifferentfromtheoneshehadexperienced.Sheunderstoodthenthatherbrainhadembellishedit,turningitintoamentalmovie.Imagesonfilmchurningthroughreels,tellingsomeoneelse’ssadtale,whichwashowshewasabletoendureit.
“Haveyoueverthoughtaboutmakingmovies?”Joshsays,bringingherbacktothemoment.“Sinceyoulovethemsomuch.”
“Notreally.”
Charliehadconsidereditonlybriefly,backwhenshewastryingtodecidewhichschoolssheshouldapplyto.Shesuspectedtherewasmoregratificationincreatingsomethingasopposedtotakingitapart.Butshealsofearedthatknowingthenitty-grittyofmakingfilmswouldruinthemagicofwatchingthem,andsincetherewasalreadysolittlemagicinherlife,shedidn’twanttoriskit.That’sespeciallytruenowthatMaddy’sgone.
Gone.
Suchanawfulword.SoabsolutelybluntinitsfinalitythatCharliegetssadjustthinkingit.
Maddyisgone.
Nevertoreturn.
AndCharlieherselfistoblame.
Griefsuddenlywashesoverher,asit’sdonesomanytimesinthepasttwomonths.WithitisasenseofguiltsoheavyCharliefeelspinnedtothepassengerseat.BothemotionsoverwhelmhertothepointwheresheonlybarelyhearsJoshsay,“Whynot?Seemslikeasweetgig.”
“Lotsofgigsaresweet,”Charliesays.“Doesn’tmeanIwantanyofthem.”
Shelookstoherright,checkingherreflectioninthesidemirroroutsidethewindow.Thedashboardlightsilluminateherfrombelow,castingacoolglowonhercoatcollar,revealinghowitmatcheshershadeoflipstick.Notthatshecanseethosematchingreds.Thenightandthemoonlightmakeeverythingappearmonochrome.Notblackandwhite.Nothingthatstark.Athousandshadesofgray.
“Charlie?”
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charliehuffsoutabreath,blinkshereyes,checksherselfinthesidemirror,andseesthateverything’sincolor,becauseofcourseitwouldbe.It’stherealworld.Butforthebriefestofmoments,Charliewasn’tlivinginit.Shewassomewhereelse.
“Whatjusthappenedthere?”Joshsays.“Youstartedtoanswermyquestionthenjuststopped.”
“Idid?”
“Yeah.Youcompletelyzonedout.”
“Sorry,”Charliesays.“Idothatsometimes.”
TooembarrassedtofaceJosh,shelooksstraightahead.Whileshewaszonedout,tousehisphrase,itstartedsnowing.Big,fatflurriesthatlookfakeastheydrifttotheground.ShethinksofsoapflakesonsoundstagesandIt’saWonderfulLife.Eventhoughthesnowisn’tcoveringtheroad,enoughofitclingstothewindshieldforJoshtohitthewipers,whichyawntolifeandflickitaway.
“Doesithappenalot?”Joshsays.
“Everysooften.”Charliepausesanawkwardbeat.“SometimesI,um,seethings.”
Joshtakeshiseyesofftheroadtogiveheralookthat’smorecuriousthanweirdedout.“Whatkindofthings?”
“Movies.”Anotherpause.“Inmymind.”
Charliedoesn’tknowwhysheadmitsthis.Ifshehadtoguess,she’dchalkituptothetemporaryintimacyoftheirsituation.They’retwopeoplethrowntogetherinadarkenedcar,barelymakingeyecontact,readytospendthenextsixhoursinasharedspaceandthenneverseeeachotheragain.Itmakespeopletalk.Itmakesthemrevealthingstheymightnottelltheirclosestfriends.Charlieknowssuchathingcanhappen.She’sseenitinthemovies.
MaddywasthefirstpersonCharliehadtoldaboutthemoviesinhermind.Shecamecleanthethirdweekoftheirfreshmanyear,whenMaddycaughtherdriftingawayforfourminutesandtwenty-sixseconds.She’dtimedit.AfterCharlietoldher,Maddynoddedandsaid,“That’sweird.Notgonnalie.Luckyforyou,I’mafanofweirdthings.”
“Moviesthatyou’veseenbefore?”Joshsaysnow.
“Newones.ThatonlyIcansee.”
“Likeadaydream?”
“Notquite,”Charliesays,knowingthatindaydreamstheworldgoeshazyattheedges.Thisistheopposite.Everythingissharper.Likeamovieprojectedontothebacksofhereyelids.“It’snotTheSecretLifeofWalterMitty.”
“I’mguessingthat’samovie.”
“StarringDannyKaye,VirginiaMayo,andBorisKarloff,”Charliesays,rattlingoffthenamesthesamewaybaseballfansreciteplayerstats.“LooselybasedontheshortstorybyJamesThurber.It’saboutthisguynamedWalterwhohasthiselaboratefantasylife.Whathappenstomeis…different.”
“Differenthow?”Joshsays.
“Insteadofwhat’sreallyhappening,Iseeaheightenedversionofthescene.Likemybrainisplayingtricksonme.Ihearconversationsthataren’thappeningandseethingsthataren’treallythere.Itfeelslikelife—”
“Onlybetter?”
Charlieshakesherhead.“Moremanageable.”
Shehadalwaysthoughtofitasseeingthingsinwide-screen.Noteverything.Justcertainmoments.Difficultones.ASteadicamoperatorglidingthroughtheroughpatchesofherlife.Itwasn’tuntilshewasforcedtoseethepsychiatristwhoprescribedthelittleorangepillsthatCharlierealizedwhatthemoviesinhermindreallywere.
Hallucinations.
Thatwaswhatthepsychiatristcalledthem.
Shesaiditwaslikehavingamentalcircuitbreaker,triggeredwhenCharlie’semotionsthreatentooverwhelmher.Intimesofgrieforstressorfear,aswitchflipsinCharlie’sbrain,replacingrealitywithsomethingmorecinematicandeasiertohandle.
Charlieknowstheoneshejustexperiencedwascausedbyamixofguilt,sadness,andmissingMaddy.Oneofthoseemotionswouldhavebeenenoughtohandleonherown.Shemighthaveevenbeenabletodealwithacombinationoftwoofthem.Butputallthreetogetherand—click!—theswitchinherbrainwasflippedandthemovieinhermindbegan.
“Yousaidyouhearandseethingsthatmightnotbethere,”Joshsays.“Arewetalkingpeople?”
“Yes,”Charliesays.“Sometimespeople.”
“Soyoucouldseesomething—orsomeone—thatdoesn’treallyexist?”Joshsays,fascinated.“Orhaveanentireconversationthat’snotreal?”
“Icould.Someonetalkstome,Italktothem,andnooneelsecanhearitbecauseit’sallinmyhead.”
“Andthisjusthappenswithoutwarning?”
“Yep.”
“Youcan’tcontrolit?”
“Notreally.”
“Doesn’tthatworryyoualittlebit?”
“Itworriesmealot,”Charliesays,notdaringtosayanythingmore.
Themoviesinhermindneverusedtoworryher.Ifanything,shewasthankfulforthem.Theymadethingseasier.Abalmthatsoothedthestingofpricklyemotions.Besides,theyneverlastedverylong,andtheycertainlyneverhurtanyone.
Untiloneofthemdid.
Nowshe’llneverforgiveherself.
Nowshejustwantsthemtogoaway.
“Whatkindofmoviesarewetalkingabout?”Joshsays.
“Anything,really.I’veseenmusicalsanddramasandscarymovies.”
“Andwhataboutaminuteago?Whatkindofmoviewasgoingthroughyourheadthen?”
Charlierewindshermindtothatimageofherinthesidemirror.WearingMaddy’sredcoatandmatchinglipstickthat’sdefinitelynotthereinreallife,Charlielookeddramatic.Butshewasnofemmefatale.ThatwasalwaysMaddy’srole.
AndJoshwasthehandsomebutwarymanbehindthewheel,possiblywithapast.Thetwoofthemcouldhavebeenanyone.Loversonthelam.Siblingsonlyrecentlyreunited.Strangersinthedarkwho,forreasonsunknowneventothem,hadsetoutacrossthecountrywithoutaplan.
Which,inaway,isthetruth.
“Filmnoir,”Charliesays.“Notaclassic,though.Somethingthestudioschurnedoutonaweeklybasis.AsolidBmovie.”
“That,”Joshsays,“isoddlyspecific.”
Charlierespondswithanembarrassedshrug.“Ican’thelpit.It’showI’mwired.”
“Whatifthis,righthereandrightnow,wereamovie?”Joshsays.“Whowouldplayme?”
“Youmean,whatactor?”
“Yeah.”
“Livingordead?”
“Doesn’tmatter.”
Charlieleansbackandraisesherhands,fingersstraightandthumbsextended,likeadirectorframingashot.ShetakesamomenttostudyJosh.Notjusthisface,whichisundeniablyhandsome,butalsohisphysicalfeatures.He’sformidable.Aheavy,slightlyhulkingpresencethat,combinedwithhisgoodlooks,bringstomindonlyoneperson.
“MarlonBrando,”shesays.
Joshcringes.“Ouch.”
“YoungMarlonBrando,”Charlie’squicktoadd.“StreetcarBrando.Youknow,backwhenhewashot.”
“Oh,soyouthinkI’mhot?”Joshsays,puffingouthischestalittlebit,pleased.
Charlieblushes.“Ididn’tmeanitlikethat.”
“Toolate,”Joshsays.“Nowthatyou’vesaidit,youcan’ttakeitback.IlikebeingthatBrando.He’skindoffatandcrazynow,though,right?”
“Somethingforyoutolookforwardto.”
“Veryfunny,”Joshsays.“AndhereIwasabouttobeniceandsaywhoIthinkshouldplayyouinthisimaginarymovieofyours.”
“Who?”
“AudreyHepburn.”
Charliecontinuestoblush.She’sheardthisbefore,butitwasfromMaddy,whooncetoldher,“YoucouldlooklikeAudrey,ifyouwantedto.You’vegotthatwide-eyed,fragile,deer-tiptoeing-into-a-meadowthinggoingonthatguyslove.”
“Deerdon’ttiptoe”iswhatshetoldMaddythen.WhatshetellsJoshnowis,“I’msurprisedyouknowwhothatis.”
“Givemesomecredit,”hesays.“I’mnotatotallunkhead.Oh,andtheproperresponsewouldhavebeentothankme.”
“Thankyou,”Charliesays,feelinganotherwaveofheatonhercheeks.
“I’mabouttoaskyouapersonalquestion,”Joshwarns.
“MorepersonalthanmeadmittingIseemoviesinmymind?”
“Notthatpersonal,”Joshsays.“I’mjustcuriousifyouhaveaboyfriend.”
Charliegoesstill,unsurehowtoreact.Joshisclearlyflirtingwithher,probablybecausehethinksshewasflirtingwithhim,eventhoughitwasn’tintentional.Sheisn’tflirtatious,despitebeingtaughtbythebest.MarilynMonroe.LanaTurner.LaurenBacall.Sheknowsthattowhistle,youjustputyourlipstogetherandblow.Whateludesheriswhyanyonewouldwanttotry.
Herproblem,accordingtoMaddy,wasthatshespenttoomuchtimeobsessingovermeninthemoviestoknowhowtoactaroundthemintherealworld.Charlieknowsthere’ssometruththere.ShehadnoproblemgettingweakinthekneesatthesightofayoungPaulNewmanbutfrozewhenmeetingsomeoneafractionthathandsomeinreallife.
Despitetheundeniablechemistrytheyshareduponmeeting,herofficialfirstdatewithRobbiewasawkwardatbest.Charliefeltsomuchpressuretobeanythingbutherweird,usualselfbecauseshethoughtthatwaswhatRobbiewanted.Soshetriedtocomplimenthim—“I,um,likethepatternofthatshirt,”shesaidofthesimple,stripedoxfordhehadbeenwearing—andattemptedsmalltalk.Shegaveupafterfifteenminutes.“IthinkI’mgoingtogo?”shesaid,phrasingitlikeaquestion,seekinghispermissiontoputthembothoutoftheirmisery
Robbiesurprisedherbysaying,“Pleasestay.Listen,I’mbadatthis,too.”
Inthatmoment,Charlierealized,despitehisgoodlooks,Robbiewasjustasawkwardasshewas.HerambledonaboutequationsthesamewayCharliedidmovies.Hewasquicktosmileandevenquickertoblush.Andhismovementswereoftenhesitant,asifheseemednotentirelyateaseinhisskin.Allturnedouttobegoodattributesforaboyfriendtohave.Robbiewaseasygoingineveryway.Heagreedtowhatevermovieshewantedtosee,neverpressuredherforsex,andwhentheydidstarthavingit,healwaystoldheritwasgreat,evenwhensheknewitsometimeswasn’t.
IfanythingbotheredCharlie,itwasthefactthat,deepdown,sheknewRobbiewasoutofherleague.Dorkinessaside,hewasstillagoldenboy.Handsome.Athletic.Smart.Hisfatherwasanengineerandhismotheradoctor.Bothwerestillalive,whichwasmorethanCharliecouldsay.Shefeltinferiorineveryregard.Anuglyducklingwhowouldneverturnintoaswan.
HerinsecuritywaseasiertodealwithwhenMaddywasalive.She’dalwaysmadeCharliefeel,ifnotnormal,thenatleastlikeafellowoutcast.Itprovidedbalance.Robbie’snormalcyononeside,Maddy’sAuntieMame–likeeccentricityontheother,andCharliefirmlyinthemiddle.WithoutMaddy,thingsnolongerworked.AndnomatterhowhardRobbietriedtoeasehergrief,guilt,andself-hatred,Charlieknewitwasonlyamatteroftimebeforehe’drealizeshewasn’tworthyofsuchattention.
Whenshedecidedtoleaveschool,CharlietoldherselfshewouldbedoingRobbieafavor.Deepdown,though,sheknowsshe’salsohasteningtheinevitable:breakingRobbie’sheartbeforehegetsachancetoshatterhers.
“Yesandno,”Charliesays,finallygivingthevaguestofanswerstoJosh’squestion.“Imean,yes,Ido.Technically.ButIalsodon’tknowwhatthefutureholds.Orifthetwoofusevenhaveafuture.”
“I’vebeentheremyself,”Joshsays.
“Andyou?”
“Singleascanbe.”
“It’shardmeetingpeople,”Charliesays.
“I’vefoundthatnottobetrue,”Joshsays.“Meetingpeopleiseasy.Keepingthemaroundisthehardpart.”
Throughthewindshield,thesnowfalloutsidelooksevenbiggerandfasterintheGrandAm’sheadlights.Likestarsflyingbyatwarpspeed.
“Punchit,Chewie,”Charliesays.
Joshbringsthewindshieldwipersupanothernotch.“Igetthatreference.”
“It’snicetoknowthatyouhave,indeed,seenatleastonemovie.”
“I’veseenplentyofmovies.”
“Define‘plenty.’?”
“Morethanyouthink.”Joshstraightensinthedriver’sseatandpatsthesteeringwheel.“Hitmewithanotherquote.BetIcannamethemovieit’sfrom.”
Charliedecidestogoeasyonhimatfirst,tossingoutanappropriatelyaccented“I’llbeback.”
“Terminator,”Joshsays.“Andquitgivingmetheobviousones.I’mnotasmovieilliterateasyouthink.”
“Fine.”Shepauses,thinking.“?‘You’regonnaneedabiggerboat.’?”
“ThatwouldbeJaws,”Joshsays,addingasmug“I’veseenthatmovietwice.”
“Twice?”Charliesayswithmocksurprise.
“Andhowmanytimeshaveyouseenit,SiskelandEbert?”
“Twenty.”
Joshletsoutalowwhistle.“Whywouldyouwatchthesamemovietwentytimes?”
“It’samasterpiece,”Charliesays.“Therealquestioniswhywouldn’tyouwatchittwentytimes?”
“Becauselifeistooshort.”
ThathadbeenanotherofMaddy’sfavoritephrases,usedwheneversheneededtocajoleCharlieintodoingsomethingshedidn’twanttodo.Lifeistooshorttonotgotothisparty,she’dsay.SoCharliewouldgoandMaddywouldgetlostinthecrowd,andmoreoftenthannot,Charliewouldwindupbackintheirdormroom,watchingmovies
“Iwanttogiveyouaquote,”Joshsays.
“I’llguaranteeI’llguessit.”
“I’dbedisappointedifyoudidn’t.”Joshclearshisthroat.“?‘Weallgoalittlemadsometimes.’?”
ThewayJoshsaysithitsCharlielikeelectricity.Atinyzapatthebaseofherspine.She’sheardthatlinequotedathousandtimesbefore,andalwayswithtoomuchemphasis,toomuchover-the-topcreepiness.ButJoshdeliversthelineexactlythewayAnthonyPerkinsdid—calm,matter-of-fact,likeit’snobigdealtoadmitmadness.
“DidIstumpyou?”Joshsays.
“Psycho,”Charliereplies.“AlfredHitchcock.Nineteensixty.”
“Howmanytimeshaveyouseenthatone?”
“Toomanytocount.”
IthadbeenamongCharlie’sfavoriteHitchcockfilms,watchedasfrequentlyasRearWindowandVertigoandNorthbyNorthwest.Shehasn’tseenitsinceMaddy’smurder,andmightnotdosoeveragain.She’snotsureshecanhandletheshowersceneanditsfrenziedcutsandscreechingviolins,eventhoughsheknowsthebloodwaschocolatesauceandthestabbingsoundswerecasabamelonsandthatHitchneveronceshowedabladepiercingflesh.Noneofthatmatters.NotwhenshethinksaboutMaddy’sfate.
“Youseemtoloveyourmajor,”Joshsays.
“Ido.”
“Thenwhyareyoudroppingoutofschool?”
“WhosaysI’mdroppingout?”Charliesays,irritated.AtJoshforbeingsopresumptuous.Atherselfforbeingsotransparent.
“Thosesuitcasesandboxinthetrunk.Noonepacksthatmuchjusttogohomeforashortvisit.EspeciallyonaTuesdayinthemiddleofthesemester.Thattellsmethere’sastorybehindallthis.”
“Thereis,”Charliesays,herirritationgrowing.“Andit’snoneofyourbusiness.”
“Butyouaredroppingout,right?”Joshsays.“Ihaven’theardyoudenyit.”
Charlieslumpsinherseatandlooksoutthewindow,whichhasfoggedupthankstothecar’sheaterandherincessantmovietalk.Sherunsafingeralongtheglass,creatingaclearstreak.
“Idon’tknowwhatI’mdoing,”shesays.“Takingabreak,Iguess.”
“Collegelifetoomuchforyou?”
“No.”Charliepauses,changesheranswer.“Yes.”
Untiltwomonthsago,shehadlovedbeingatOlyphant.Itwasn’tthefanciestschool.CertainlynottheIvyLeague.AndnotlikeNYUorBenningtonoranyoftheotherplacesshe’doncedreamedofattending.Therewasn’tenoughmoneyforthat,andCharliehadn’tbeenagoodenoughstudenttoearnascholarship.She’dbeenawardedsomecash,yes.Butnothingclosetoafullride.
ShesettledonOlyphantbecauseitwasoneofthefewschoolssheandNanaNormacouldafford.AsmallliberalartscollegeinNewJersey.Thefilmdepartmentdecent,ifnotnotable.Shehadplannedonworkinghard,keepingherheaddown,graduatingwithadegreethatwouldsetherupnicelyforgradschoolsomewherebigger,better,andmoreprestigious.Shethoughtshe’deventuallybecomeaprofessorataschoolsimilartoOlyphant,teachingfilmstudiestothenextgenerationofcinephiles.
Whatshehadn’tplannedonwasMadelineForresterswanningintotheirdormroomthatfirstdayofcollegeonagustofcigarettesmokeandChanelNo.5.Shewasbeautiful.ThatwasthefirstthingCharlienoticed.Paleandblondandvoluptuous,withaheart-shapedfacethatremindedherofVivienLeighinGonewiththeWind.Yetsheseemedslightlywornaroundtheedges.Anintriguingexhaustion.Likeahungoverdebutantedraggingherselfhomethemorningafteracotillion.
Framedinthedoorway,teeteringonthree-inchheels,shesurveyedtheirsharedroomanddeclared,“Whatadump!”
Charliegotthereference—MaddywasimpersonatingLizTaylorinWho’sAfraidofVirginiaWoolf?impersonatingBetteDavisinBeyondtheForest—andherwholebodyfizzedlikeajostledbottleofchampagne.She’djustmetakindredspirit.
“IthinkIadoreyou,”sheblurted.
Maddyfannedherself.“Aswellyoushould.”
Herstylewaseasytoadore.Maddytalkedfast,usingaclippedYankeeaccentpurposefullymeanttoinvokeKatharineHepburn.Ratherthantheclothesfavoredbyeveryothergirloncampus—stone-washedjeans,whiteKeds,GAPsweatshirtsunderdenimjackets—shedressedlikeafiftiessocialite.Pastelcocktaildresses.Whitegloves.Pillboxhatswithdelicateveils.Sheevenownedaminkstole,boughtsecondhandatayardsale,itsfurshabbyandmattedinspots.Atparties,she’dsmokeusingacigaretteholder,wavingitaroundlikeCruelladeVil.Affectations,all.YetMaddygotawaywiththembecauseshenevertookthemseriously.Therewasalwaysatwinkleinhereyethatmadeitclearsheknewhowridiculousshecouldbe.
Onthesurface,theyseemedlikeanoddpair.Theglamourgirlandherblandlyprettyroommategigglingontheirwaytothedininghall.ButCharlieknewtheyweremorealikethanitseemed.MaddygrewupinthePoconos,firmlylowermiddleclass,herchildhoodhomeabeigeranchhouseontheoutskirtsofasmalltown.
Shewasextremelyclosetohergrandmother,fromwhomsheclaimedtohaveinheritedherwildlydramaticstreak.Mee-Mawwaswhatshecalledher,whichCharliealwaysthoughtwasweird,eventhoughNanaNormaisn’texactlynormal.Maddyspentthefirstfouryearsofherlifebeingraisedbyhergrandmotherasherdeadbeatdadroamedthenorthwestinanendlessquesttoavoidpayingchildsupportandhermotherdriftedinandoutofvariousrehabs.
Evenafterhermomgotclean,Maddystayedclosetohermee-maw,callinghereverySundayjusttocheckin.Sometimeswhenshewasstaggeringlyhungover.Othertimesasshegotreadytogoout.CharlienoticedbecauseitalwaysmadeherfeelguiltythatsherarelycalledNanaNormajusttocheckin.Sheonlycalledwhensheneededsomething,andhearingMaddyaskhergrandmotherhowshewasdoingusuallycausedCharlietopictureNanaNormahomealoneonthecouch,litbytheflickerofwhateverblack-and-whitemoviewasontheTV.
MovieswereanotherthingMaddyandCharliehadincommon.Theywatchedhundredstogether,withMaddycommentingontheactionthesamewayNanaNormadid.
“God,hasthereeverbeenamanmorebeautifulthanMontyClift?”
Or“IwouldkillforabodylikeRitaHayworth’s.”
Or“Sure,VincenteMinnelliwasgay,butyouwouldn’tknowitfromthewayhefilmedJudyGarland.”
LikeCharlie,Maddythrivedonescapism,livinginafantasyworldofhermaking.Itwasuptootherstodecideiftheywantedtojoinherthere.Charliewentwillingly.
“Youcantellmewhathappened,ifyouwant.”Joshgivesherasympatheticlook,tryingtoputheratease.“I’mnotgoingtotellanyone.And,hell,it’snotlikewe’regoingtobeseeingeachotherafterthis.There’snoneedforsecretsinthiscar.”
Charlie’stemptedtotellhimeverything.Thedarkness,theclosequarters,thewarmth—allofitsustainsherconfessionalmood.Thenthere’sthefactthatshehasn’treallytalkedaboutit.She’ssaidsomethings,ofcourse.ToRobbie.ToNanaNorma.Tothepsychiatristshewasforcedtosee.Butneverthewholestory.
“Youeverdoabadthing?”shesays,easingherselfintothetopic,seeingifitfeelsright.“Somethingsobadyouknowyou’llnever,everforgiveyourself?”
“Badnessisintheeyeofthebeholder,”Joshsays.
HeturnsawayfromthewindshieldlongenoughforCharlietoseethelookonhisface.He’ssmilingagain.Thatperfectmovie-stargrin.Onlythistimeitdoesn’treachhiseyes,whicharedevoidofanymirth.There’snothingtherebutdarkness.
Charlieknowsit’sjustatrickofthelight.Orlackthereof.Sheassumeshereyeslookequallyasblackandmysterious.ButsomethingaboutJosh’sdarkeyesandbrightsmileridsheroftheurgetoconfess.Itnolongerfeelsright.Nothere.Nottothismanshedoesn’tknow.
“Whataboutyou?”shesays,tryingtochangethesubject.“What’syourstory?”
“WhatmakesyouthinkIhaveone?”
“You’realsoleavinginthemiddleofthesemester.Whichmeansyou’realsodroppingout.”
“I’mnotastudent,”Joshsays.
“Ithoughtyouwere.”
He’dtoldherhewasastudent,hadn’the?Ormaybeshe’dinferredthatbecauseoftheOlyphantsweatshirthe’dbeenwearingwhentheymet.Thesameone,Charlieremindsherself,he’swearingrightnow.
Josh,apparentlysensingherunease,clarifies.“Iworkattheuniversity.Worked,IguessIshouldsay.Iquittoday.”
Charliecontinuestostudyhim,realizingjusthowmucholderthanherhereallyis.Tenyears,atleast.Maybefifteen.
“Wereyouaprofessororsomething?”
“Alittlelessupscale,”Joshsays.“Iworkedinthefacilitiesdepartment.Custodialwork,mostly.Justoneofthoseguysmoppingthehallways,invisibletotherestofyou.Youmighthaveseenmeandnotevenrealizedit.”
Becauseheseemstoexpectit,Charliesearcheshermemoryforsightingspriortoyesterday,whentheymetattherideboard.She’snotsurprisedwhenshecan’tsummonone.Inthepasttwomonths,shehasn’tventuredtoofaroutsidethedormanddininghall.
“Howlongdidyouworkthere?”
“Fouryears.”
“Why’dyouquit?”
“Mydad’snotwell,”Joshsays.“Hadastrokeafewdaysago.”
“Oh,”Charliesays.“I’msosorry.”
“There’snothingtobesorryabout.Shithappens.”
“He’llbeokay,though?Right?”
“Idon’tknow,”Joshsays,histonejustifiablymelancholy.“Ihopeso.Wewon’tknowforafewweeks.There’snooneelsetotakecareofhim,whichmeansit’sbacktoToledoforme.”
Charlie’swholebodysuddenlytenses.
“Akron,”shesays.“YoutoldmeyouwerefromAkron.”
“Idid?”
“Yes.Whenwemetattherideboard.”
Becauseitwasapossiblemeansofescape,sherememberseverythingaboutthatmoment.Andshe’scertainJoshspecificallytoldherhewasgoingtoAkron.AfterhelearnedsheneededtogettoYoungstown.
Shereplaysthatfirstconversationinherhead.Himsidlingupbesideher,checkingherflyer,seeingherdestinationclearlytypedacrossthepage.
CouldJoshhaveliedaboutwherehewasgoing?Ifso,why?
Charliecanonlythinkofonereason—togethertoagreetogetintoacarwithhim.
Thethoughtmakeshernervous.Tinydropsofdreadspreadacrossherclenchedshoulders.Itfeelslikerain.Thefirstfewdropsbeforethestorm.
“NowIremember,”Joshsays,shakinghishead,asifhecan’tbelievehisabsentmindedness.“Iseewhyyou’reconfused.IforgotthatItoldyouI’mdrivingtoAkron.That’swheremyauntlives.I’mpickingherupandtakingherwithmetomydad’splaceinToledo.”
It’sasimpleenoughexplanation.Onthesurface,there’snothingsinisteraboutit.Butthedreaddoesn’tfullyleaveCharlie.Asmallbitremains,wedgedlikeabladebetweenherribs.
“Iwasn’ttryingtobemisleading,”Joshsays.“Iswear.I’msorryifthat’showitseems.”
Hesoundssincere.Helooksit,too.Whenthecarpassesunderthetangerineglowofastreetlight,itilluminateshisface,includinghiseyes.ThedarknessCharliesawearlierisgone.Initsplaceisaglintofwarmth,ofapology,ofhurtforbeingsomisunderstood.Seeingitmakesherfeelguiltyforbeingsosuspicious.Hisdadjusthadastroke,forGod’ssake,andheresheisdoubtinghim.
“It’sfine,”Charliesays.“Iwasbeing—”
Shestrugglesforthebestdescription.Unnecessarilyworried?Downrightparanoid?Both?
Sheknowsit’snotwhatJoshhassaidorthewayhe’sdressedorhowheputthingsinthetrunkthat’smadehersojumpy.HernervousnessliesinthefactthatbecausesomethingawfulhappenedtoMaddy,Charliethinksitcouldalsohappentoher.
Yetthere’smoretoitthanthat.Thebedrocktruth,asNanaNormawouldsay.Atruththat’sbeneaththesurface,burieddeep.Afoundationuponwhichallthelieswetellourselvesisbuilt.
AndforCharlie,thebedrocktruthisthatshethinksshedeservestohavesomethingawfulhappentoher.
Butitwon’t.Nothere,anyway.Notnow.Notinacarwithsomeonewhoseemstobeadecentguyandisjusttryingtomakeconversationduringwhatwouldotherwisebeaboringdrive.
Again,Joshseemstoknoweverysinglethingshe’sthinking,becausehesays,“Igetit,youknow.Whyyou’resonervous.”
“I’mnotnervous,”Charliesays.
“Youare,”Joshsays.“Andit’sokay.Listen,IthinkIknowwhoyouare.Ithoughtyournameseemedfamiliarwhenwemetattherideboard,butIdidn’trealizewhyuntiljustnow.”
Charliesaysnothing,hopingthatwillsomehowmakeJoshstoptalking,thathe’lljustgetthehintanddropit.
Instead,heshiftshisgazefromhertotheroad,thenbackagain,andsays,“You’rethatgirl,right?”
Charliesinksbackinthepassengerseat,thebaseofherskullagainsttheheadrest.Alightpainpulseswheretheyconnect.Thestirringsofaheadache.Confessiontimeisherewhethershe’sreadyforitornot.
“Iam,”shesays.“I’mthatgirl.Theonewholetherroommategetmurdered.”
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charliehadn’twantedtogooutthatnight.Thatwasherexcuseforwhyshedidwhatshedid.Backwhenshehadanexcuse.Beforeshecametounderstandthatheractionswereinexcusable.
ItwasaThursdaynight,shehadanearlyfilmclassthenextmorning,andsheinnoway,shape,orformwantedtoheadouttoabaratteno’clocktoseeasecond-rateCurecoverband.ButMaddyinsistedshego,evenafterCharliehadbeggedoffseveraltimes.
“Itwon’tbeanyfunwithoutyou,”shesaid.“NooneelsebutyougetshowmuchIlovethem.”
“Youareawareit’snotreallytheCure,right?”Charlietoldher.“It’sjustsomeguyswho’velearnedtoplay‘Lovesong’intheirparents’garage.”
“They’rereallygood.Iswear.Please,Charlie,justcome.Life’stooshorttostaycoopedupinhere.”
“Fine,”Charliesaid,sighingtheword.“EventhoughI’mtired.AndyouknowhowirritableIgetwhenI’mtired.”
Maddyplayfullythrewapillowacrosstheroomather.“Youbecomeanabsolutemonster.”
Thebanddidn’ttakethestageuntilalmosteleven,comingoutinGothgarbsoover-the-topitborderedontheridiculous.Thefrontman,aimingforRobertSmithrealness,hadpowderedhisfacewithwhitepancakemakeup.CharlietoldMaddyitmadehimlooklikeEdwardScissorhands.
“Rude,”Maddysaid.“Buttrue.”
Threesongsintotheirset,MaddystarteddancingwithsomewannabeBonJoviintornjeansandablackT-shirt.Twosongsafterthat,theywerebackedagainstthebar,swappingsaliva.AndCharlie,whowastired,hungry,andnotnearlydrunkenoughtostay,hadhadenough.
“Hey,I’mleaving,”shesaidaftertappingMaddyontheshoulder.
“What?”MaddysqueezedoutfrombeneaththerandomguykissingherandgrabbedCharlie’sarm.“Youcan’tgo!”
“Ican,”Charliesaid.“AndIam.”
Maddyclungtoherasshemadeherwayoutofthebar,pushingthroughadancefloorpackedwithfratboysinbaseballcapsandsororitygirlsinbellyteesandpreppiesandstonersandflannel-wearingdeadbeatswithstringybleachedhair.UnlikeMaddy,theydidn’tcarewhowasplaying.Theywerejusttheretogetplastered.AndCharlie,well,shejustwantedtocurlupinbedwithamovie.
“Hey,what’sgoingon?”Maddysaidoncetheywereoutsidethebar,huddledtogetherinabackalleythatstankofvomitandbeer.“Wewerehavingfun.”
“Youwerehavingfun,”Charliesaid.“Iwasjust…there.”
Maddyreachedintoherhandbag—aglitteryrectangleofsilversequinsshe’dfoundatGoodwill—andfumbledforhercigarettes.“That’sallonyou,darling.”
Charliedisagreed.Byherestimation,thiswasthehundredthtimeMaddyhaddraggedhertoabarorakeggeroratheaterdepartmentafterpartyonlytoditchherassoonastheyarrived,leavingCharlietostandaroundawkwardlyaskingherfellowintrovertsifthey’deverseenTheMagnificentAmbersons
“Itwouldn’tbeifyou’djustletmestayhome.”
“I’mtryingtohelpyou.”
“Byignoringme?”
“Byforcingyououtofyourcomfortzone,”Maddysaid,givingupthesearchforasmokeandstuffingthehandbagunderherarm.“There’smoretolifethanmovies,Charlie.Ifitweren’tformeorRobbieortheothergirlsinthedorm,you’dnevertalktoanyone,like,ever.”
“That’snottrue,”Charliesaid,evenasshebegantowonderifmaybeitwas.Shecouldn’trememberthelasttimesheexchangedmorethancursorysmalltalkwithsomeoneoutsideofclassortheinsularworldoftheirdorm.RealizingthatMaddywasrightonlymadehermoreangry.“Icouldtalktoatonofpeople,ifIwantedto.”
“Andthat’syourproblem,”Maddysaid.“Youdon’twantto.WhichiswhyI’malwaystheonetryingtoforceyouintoit.”
“MaybeIdon’twanttobeforced.”
Maddycoughedoutasarcasticlaugh.“That’sprettyfuckingobvious.”
“Thenquittrying,”Charliesaid.“Friendsaresupposedtosupporteachother,notchangethem.”
GodknewshecouldhavetriedtochangeMaddy.Theflightiness.Thedrama.Theclothesthatweremorelikecostumes.Thingssodatedandpreposterousthatsometimespeoplerolledtheireyeswhensheenteredaroom.ButCharliedidn’ttrytochangethosethings.Becauseshelovedthem.ShelovedMaddy.Andsometimes—likethatnight—shequestionedifMaddyfeltthesameway.
“I’mnottryingtochangeyou,”Maddysaid.“Ijustwantyoutolivealittle.”
“AndIwanttogothehellhome.”
Charlietriedtowalkaway,butMaddylatchedontoherarmagain,pleading.“Pleasedon’tgo.You’reright.Ibroughtyouhere,thenditchedyou,andI’msorry.Let’sgobackinside,haveadrink,anddanceourassesoff.Iwon’tleaveyourside.Ipromise.Juststay.”
MaybeCharliewouldhavestayedifMaddyhadn’tsaidwhatcamenext.Shewasreadytoforgiveandforgetasshealwaysdid.ButthenMaddytookadeepbreathandsaid,“YouknowIdon’tlikewalkinghomealone.”
Charlieflinched—trulyflinched—whensheheardit.BecauseitmeantMaddystillmadeitallabouther,likeshealwaysdid.Thiswasn’taboutherenjoyingCharlie’scompanyorhavingfuntogether.Shesimplywantedsomeonetowalkherdrunkasshomewhenthepartywasover.ItmadeCharliethinkthatmaybeRobbiewasright.MaybeMaddydidn’tthinkofherasafriend.Maybeshewasonlyanaudiencemember.Oneofmany.OnewhowasenoughofapushovertoletMaddygetawaywithwhateverbullshitshedecidedtopullonanygivennight.
Exceptthatnight.
Charlierefusedtoletthathappen.
“I’mwalkinghomenow,”shesaid.“Youcanjoinmeornot.”
Maddypretendedtoconsiderit.ShetookatentativestepinCharlie’sdirection,ahandraisedeversoslightly,asifreachingoutforher.Butthensomeoneleftthebarandmusicblastedouttheopendoorintothealley.Aracketyversionof“JustLikeHeaven.”Hearingit,Maddyturnedhergazetothebar,andCharlieknewshe’dmadeherdecision.
“You’reanawfulfriend,”shetoldMaddy.“Ihopeyouknowthat.”
Charlieturnedandmarchedaway,notevenpausingasMaddycalledout,“Charlie,wait!”
“Fuckoff,”Charliesaid.
ItendedupbeingthelastthingsheeversaidtoMaddy.
Butthatwasn’ttheworstpartofthenight.
Farfromit.
Theworstcametwentystepslater,whenCharlieturnedaround,hopingtoseethat,despitethefightandthe“Fuckoff,”Maddywasrightbehindher,strugglingtocatchup.Instead,Charliesawherstilloutsidethebar,hercigarettesfinallyfreedfromherpurse,standingwithamanwho’dseeminglycomeoutofnowhere.
Charliecouldn’tseehimclearly.Hisbackwaspartlyturnedtoher,andhisheadwaslowered.Theonlypartofhisbodyvisibletoherwashislefthand,whichwascuppedaroundthesmallflameofMaddy’slighter.Everythingelseabouthimwasshadow,fromhisshoestohishat.
Thathat—abasicfedorathatallmenusedtowearuntilsuddenlytheydidn’t—tippedCharlieoffthatsomethingaboutthescenewasn’tright.Itwas1991.Nooneworeafedoraanymore.Also,everythingwastoostark,toostylized.AsingleshaftofwhitelightslantedbetweenMaddyandthemaninthefedora,splittingthemintotwodistincthalves:Maddyglowinginthelight,themanswathedindarkness.
Itwas,Charlierealized,amovieinhermind,broughtaboutbyherfightwithMaddy.
Ratherthanwatchthescenereturntonormal,whichiswhatsheshouldhavedone,Charlieturnedaroundandkeptwalking.
Shedidn’tlookback.
WhenMaddydidn’treturntothedormthatnight,Charliehadassumedshe’dhookedupwithsomeonefromthebar.FakeBonJovi,maybe.Ortheguyinthefedora.Ifheexistedatall.Charliehadherdoubts.
Worrydidn’tsetinuntilnoon,whenCharliereturnedfromclasstofindthedormroomstilluntouchedbyMaddy’spresence.Charliecouldn’thelpbutthinkofthedayherparentsdied.Howshehadremainedunconcernedastimeslippedby,oblivioustothefactthatshehadbecomeanorphan.Refusingtolethistoryrepeatitself,Charliespenttherestofthedaygoingfromdormroomtodormroom,askingeveryoneinthebuildingifthey’dseenMaddy.Noonehad.Charlie’snextmovewastocallMaddy’smotherandstepfather,askingifthey’dheardfromher.Theyhadn’t.Finally,atmidnight,exactlytwenty-fourhourssinceshe’dlastseenher,CharliecalledthepoliceandreportedMaddymissing.
Shewasfoundearlythenextmorning.
Acyclisthaddiscoveredheronhisdailyride,drawnbyanunusualsparkleinthemiddleofafieldninemilesoutsideoftown.ItwasMaddy’spurse,itssequinsglintinginthemorningsun.
Maddylaynexttoit,facedowninthedirt,deadforatleastaday.
Atfirst,everyone—thepolice,thetown,theuniversity—hadhopeditwasanormalmurder,asifsuchathingexisted.Foulplaythatcouldeasilybesolved.Ajealousex-boyfriend.Anobsessiveclassmate.Somethingthatmadesense.
Buttherewerethemultiplestabwoundstocontendwith.Andthefactthatherwristsandankleshadbeenboundwithrope.Andthemissingtooth,anuppercaninethatdentalrecordsindicatedhadn’tbeenmissingbeforeshedisappeared.
Itwasthetooththatledpolicetoconcludetheworst:Maddywasanothervictimofamanwhohadstrucktwicebefore.
TheCampusKiller.
Charliegrudginglyadmiredtheauthorities’restraintinthenickname.TheSilenceoftheLambshadhittheaterssevenmonthsearlier,enteringBuffaloBillandHannibaltheCannibalintothepopculturallexicon.Insteadofgoingforsomethinginthatsamemorbidlycatchyvein,thepoliceoptedforsimplicity.
Hewasakiller.
HeprowledOlyphantUniversity’scampus.
Hesnatchedwomenandtiedthemupandyankedoutatoothafterstabbingthemtodeath.Thatwasattention-grabbingenoughformostpeople—andthegeneralpublicdidn’tevenknowaboutthemissingteeth.Onlythevictims’familiesweretoldthatgruesomedetail.CharliehadfoundoutsimplybecauseshewasthefirstpersonthepolicetalkedtoafterfindingMaddy’sbody,andtheyneededtoknowimmediatelyifshe’dbeenmissingatooth.Thedetectivesbeggedhernottotellanyoneelse,andshehadn’t.NotevenRobbie.SheunderstooditwassomethingthecopsneededtokeeptothemselvestodifferentiatebetweenarandomstabbingandtheworkoftheCampusKiller.
CharliehadlearnedthenicknamethedayshearrivedatOlyphant.TheCampusKillerhadstruckamonthearlier,sendingthewholeuniversityintoapanickedfrenzy,eventhoughthevictimwasatownieandnotastudent.Herfreshmanorientationincludedalessoninself-defense.RapewhistlesweredistributedwithIDcards.Oncampus,girlsneverwalkedalone.Theymovedinpacks—great,unwieldygroupsofnervousgigglesandshininghair.
Duringcampus-sponsoredmixersorlate-nightchatsinthedormlounge,themurdersweretalkedaboutinhushedtones,likeurbanlegendswhisperedaroundacampfire.Everyoneknewthenamesofthevictims.Everyoneclaimedtohavesometangentialconnection.Asharedclass.Afriendofafriend.Aglimpseonthestreettwonightsbeforetheywerekilled.
AngelaDunleavywasthefirst,murderedfouryearsearlieronarainynightinMarch.Shewasaseniorwhoworkedpart-timeatabardowntown.OneofthoseplacesthatmadeitswaitressesweartightT-shirtsinthehopethecollegeboyswouldleavebiggertips.Shewentmissingshortlyafterlastcallandwasfoundthenextmorninginapatchofwoodsontheedgeofcampus,bearingthethen-novelsignsoftheCampusKiller’shandiwork.
Tiedup.
Stabbed.
Toothpulled.
Therewerenoleads,nosuspects.Justahorrificmurderthatpolicehadstupidlyassumedwasaonetimething.
Untilthesecondvictimwasfoundayearandahalflater.TaylorMorrison.ThetowniekilledamonthbeforeCharlie’sfreshmanyear,herbodydumpedonthesideofamaintenanceroadtwomilesaway.SheworkedinabookstoretwoblocksfromOlyphant,whichwascloseenoughtocampusforherdeathtobelumpedinwithAngelaDunleavy’s.
Whenayearpassedwithoutanothermurder,peoplestartedtobreathealittleeasier.Aftertwoyears,therapewhistlesstoppedbuttheself-defenseclassesremained.BythestartofCharlie’sjunioryear,nooneroamedcampusingroupsandtheCampusKillerwasbarelymentioned.
ThenMaddywasmurdered,andtheviciouscyclebegananew.OnlythistimeCharliewaspartofit.AsupportingplayertoMaddy’smorbidstarringrole.Shetalkedtosomanypeopleinthedaysfollowingthemurder.Localdetectives.Statepolice.EventwoFBIagents.Apairofwomendressednearlyidenticallyinsilkblousesandblackblazers,theirhairpulledbackinsevereponytails.
Charlietoldthemeverything.
SheandMaddyhadgonetoabartohearacoverband.No,shewasn’tyettwenty-one,anadmissionthatcausedhernotasecond’shesitation.Maddywasdead.Herkillerwasstilloutthere.NoonegaveashitaboutherfakeID.Yes,sheandMaddyhadarguedoutsidethebar.Yes,shehadwalkedawayeventhoughMaddyhadbeggedhertostay.And,yes,thelasttwowordssheutteredtoherbestfriendwereindeed“fuckoff,”arealizationthat,whenithit,sentCharlierunningtothepolicestationbathroomtothrowupinthesink.
Itgotworsewhenshereturnedtothosetough-chickFBIagentsandlearnedeverythingtheyknewaboutMaddy’sfinalmoments.
ThatnoonecouldrememberseeingMaddybackinthebarafterCharlieleft.
ThattwopeopleexitingthebarfiveminutesafterCharliesawMaddyleavingthealleywithaman,althoughtheydidn’tknowforsurebecausehehadalreadyroundedacorner,givingonlyaglimpseofwhitesneaker.
Thatbasedonhertimeofdeath,authoritiesbelievedthemanMaddyfollowedoutofthealleywasthesamepersonwhokilledher.
“Isawhim,”Charliesaid,stunnedbytherealizationthatwhatshe’dseenhadn’tentirelybeenamovieinhermind.
TheFBIagentsstraightenedintheirchairs.
“Whatdidhelooklike?”oneofthemasked.
“Idon’tknow.”
“Butyousawhim.”
“Isawsomeone.ButitmightnothavebeenthemanMaddyleftwith.”
Oneoftheagentsgaveheralookhotenoughtopeelwallpaper.“Youeithersawsomeoneoryoudidn’t.”
“Ididseesomeone.”Charlie’svoicewasweak.Herheadspun.Nauseacontinuedtochurninherstomach.“ButIalsodidn’t.”
Shehadnoideaifthepersonshesawlookedanythinglikehisreal-lifecounterpart.Themoviesinhermindsometimeswarpedthingsuntiltheywerenolongerrecognizable.Itwasentirelypossiblethatthemanshe’dseenwascobbledtogetherbyherimaginationusingpiecesofadozendifferentleadingmen.PartMitchum,partLancaster,partBurton
Charliehadtospendanhourexplainingthemoviesinhermind.Howtheyworked.Whentheyhappened.Howveryoftenthethingsshesawweren’treallythere,includingmenindarkalleys.Evenafterallthat,theagentsinsistedshesitdownwithasketchartist,hopingthatdescribingwhatshesawwouldsomehowjoltherintorememberingwhathadreallybeenthere.
Whenthatdidn’twork,theytriedhypnosis.
Afterthat,too,failed,Charliewassenttoapsychiatrist.
WhatfollowedwasreluctanttalkaboutMaddy’smurder,herparents’deaths,themoviesinhermind.Thencametheprescriptionforthelittleorangepills,whichCharliewastoldwouldmakethemgoaway.
ThepsychiatriststressedthatMaddy’sdeathwasn’tCharlie’sfault.Thateachperson’sbrainisdifferent.Thatitworksinunusualways.Itdoeswhatitdoes,andCharlieshouldn’tblameherselfforwhathappened.
Charliedisagreed.Shehadknownthatnightthatwhatshesawoutsidethebarwasamovieinhermind.Shecouldhavewaiteduntilitpassed,revealingthetruepicture.OrshecouldhavereturnedtoMaddy,apologized,anddemandedtheywalkhometogether.
Instead,shesimplyturnedandwalkedaway.
Intheprocess,shebothfailedtosaveMaddy’slifeandavoidedgleaninganyidentifyingdetailsaboutthemanwhomurderedher.
Lookedatfromthatperspective,allofitwasCharlie’sfault.
Timepassed.
Daysandweeksandmonths.
CharlieeventuallycutherselfofffromeveryonebutRobbieandNanaNorma.Shedidn’tevenhavethementalstrengthtoattendMaddy’sfuneral,afactthatdidn’tsitwellwitheveryoneelseinthedorm,whocharteredtwobusestoshuttlethemtoMiddle-of-Nowhere,Pennsylvania,fortheservice.Rightuptothemomentofdeparture,there’dbeenneedlinganddisbeliefandguilttripsfromthegirlsonherfloor.
Ican’tbelieveyou’renotgoing.
Shewasyourbestfriend.
Iknowit’llbehardonyou,butthiswillgiveyouachancetosaygoodbye.You’llregretitifyoudon’tgo.
OnlyMaddywouldhaveunderstoodherreasons.SheknewaboutCharlie’sparentsandthedoublefuneralthathadrewiredherbrainjustsoshe’dbeabletocopewithit.Maddywouldn’thavewantedhertogothroughthatagain.
SoCharliestayedbehind.Adecisionshedefinitelydoesn’tregret.HerpreferencewastorememberMaddyaliveandlaughingandbeingherusualdramaticself.ShewantedhermemoriestobeofMaddydressinglikeLizainCabarettogotoastatisticsclass.OroflastHalloween,whenthetwoofthemwenttoacostumepartyastheGaborsistersandeveryoneassumedtheywereMadonnainDickTracy,eventhoughbothofthemspokewithexaggeratedHungarianaccents.Charliecertainlydidn’twanttorememberMaddyassomelifelessshellinacasket,herfacetintedorangebytoomuchmorticianmakeup.
ButthebedrocktruthisthatnotattendingMaddy’sfuneralwasanactofcowardiceonherpart.Quitesimply,shecouldn’tfaceMaddy’sfamilyandtheirjustifiableanger.Thephonecallhadbeenenough—thattear-streakedconfrontationwithMaddy’smother,whohadlashedoutwithavengeanceonlyagrievingwomancouldpossess.
“Yousawhim.That’swhatthepolicearesaying.Thatyousawthemanwhokilledmydaughterbutcan’trememberwhathelookedlike.”
“Ican’t,”Charliesaid,sobbing.
“Well,youfuckingneedtoremember,”Maddy’smothersaid.“Youoweittous.YouoweittoMaddy.Youleftherbehind,Charlie.Thetwoofyouwereouttogether,andyouleftwithouther.Youwereherfriend.Youweresupposedtobethereforher.Butyouabandonedherwiththatman.Nowmydaughterisdeadandyoucan’tevenbringyourselftorememberanythingabouthim.Whatkindoffrienddoesthat?Whatkindofpersondoesthat?Anawfulone.That’swho.You’retrulyawful,Charlie.”
Charliehadn’tvoicedanythinginherdefense.WhybotherwheneverythingMrs.Forrestersaidwastrue?ShehadabandonedMaddy.Firstinlife,whenCharlieturnedawayfromheroutsidethebar,andthenagainindeath,whenshecouldn’trememberasingleidentifyingfeatureaboutthemanwhokilledher.Inhermind,Maddy’smotherwasright—shetrulywasanawfulperson.
SoCharliespentthedayofMaddy’sfuneralalonewatchingDisneymovies,onerightaftertheafter.Shedidn’teat.Shedidn’tsleep.ShesimplysatonthedormroomfloorsurroundedbywhiteplasticVHScases.
Robbie,whodidattendthefuneral,toldCharliethatmaybesheshouldhavegone.Thatitwasn’tsobad.Thatthecasketwasclosed,afamilyfriendhadsung“Somewhere”fromWestSideStory,andthattheonlymomentofdramahappenedgravesideasMaddywasloweredintotheground.That’swhenMaddy’sgrandmother,overcomewithgrief,tiltedherheadbackandscreamedintotheblueSeptembersky.
“Ithinkitwouldhavehelpedyou,”hesaid.
Charliedidn’twantorneedthatkindofhelp.Besides,sheknewthat,intime,she’dbeokay.Aheartcanonlygrieveforsolong.ThatwaswhatNanaNormatoldherafewmonthsafterherparentsdied.Charlieknewittobetrue.Shestillmissedherparents.Notadaywentbywhenshedidn’tthinkofthem.Buthergrief,whichatthetimehadfeltsoheavyshethoughtshe’dbecrushedbyitsweight,hadtransformedintosomethingeasiertobear.ShehadassumedthesamewouldhappenwithMaddy.
Itdidn’t.Thepainshefeltcontinuedtobeasheart-shatteringasthedayshelearnedMaddywasdead.Andshecouldn’ttakeitanymore.Notthegrief.Nottheguilt.Notthesquinty-eyedlooksofpitycastherwayduringtherareoccasionsshewenttoclass.Whichiswhyshe’sleavingOlyphant.Eventhoughsheknowsfleeingthesceneofhercrimewon’tmakeherfeelanylessguilty,CharlieneverthelesshopesbeingbackhomewithNanaNorma,lostinahazeofoldmoviesandchocolatechipcookies,willsomehowmakeiteasiertodealwith.
“Yeah,Ithoughtthatwasyou,”JoshsaysafterCharlie’sbrutalassessmentofherself.“Ireadaboutwhathappenedinthepaper.Doyouwantto,Idon’tknow,talkaboutit?”
Charlieturnstowardthepassenger-sidewindow,nowfoggedupagain.“There’snothingtotalkabout.”
“You’redroppingoutofcollegebecauseofit,so,yeah,Ithinkthereis.”
Charliesniffs.“MaybeIdon’twanttotalkabout.”
“I’mgoingtoanyway,”Joshsays.“First,I’msorryforyourloss.It’sahorriblethingthathappened.Andahorriblethingyouwentthroughandarestillgoingthrough.Whatwasyourfriend’snameagain?Tammy?”
“Maddy,”Charliesays.“ShortforMadeline.”
“Right.JustlikeCharlieisshortforCharles.”
Joshgivesheralook,pleasedwithhimselfforsteeringthembacktoanearlierjoke.Charlie’sstonyexpressiondoesn’tchange,andJoshmoveson.
“Theynevercaughttheguywhodidit,right?”hesays.
“No.”
Charlieshiversslightlyattheacknowledgmentthat,thankstoher,themanwhokilledMaddyhasn’tbeencaught,mayneverbecaught,mayspendtherestofhisfuckingliferevelinginhowhe’dgottenawaywithmurdernotoncebutthreetimes.
Thatthepoliceknowof.
Sofar.
TheideathattheCampusKillercould—andmostlikelywill—strikeagainpromptsanotherfearfulshiver.
“Doesitworryyouthattheynevercaughthim?”
“Itmakesmeangry,”Charliesays.
Aftertheinitialshockandgriefhadwornoff,Charlieturnedtoangerprettyquickly.ShespentallthosesleeplessnightsseethingoverthefactthatMaddywasdeadandherkillerwasn’tandhowutterlywrongthatwas.Sometimesshe’dspendallnightpacingtheroom,envisioningB-moviescenariosinwhichshetookherrevenge.Inthesementalmovies,theCampusKillerwasalwaysthedark,human-shapedblankshe’dseenoutsidethebar,ontowhichsheinflictedeveryactofviolenceshecouldthinkof.
Shooting.Strangling.Beheading.
Onenight,themovieinhermindhadherstabbingtheCampusKillerinthechestandpluckingouthisheart,whichglistenedonthetipofherknife,stillbeating.Butwhenshelookeddownatthebody,itwasn’tahuman-shapedblankshesaw.Itwassomeonesheknewalltoowell.
Herself.
Afterthatone,Charliestartedplanningherescape.
“IthinkI’dbeworried,”Joshsays.“Imean,he’sstilloutthere.Somewhere.Hemighthaveseenyou,right?Hemightknowwhoyouareandtrytocomeforyounext.”
Charlieshiversagain,thisonemoreintensethantheothers.Ashudder.Oneshefeelsallthewaydowntohercore.BecauseJoshisright.TheCampusKillerprobablydidseeher.Maybeheevenknowswhosheis.AndalthoughCharliesawhim,too,shewouldn’tknowitwashimevenifhewassittingrightnexttoher.
“That’snotwhyI’mleavingschool,”shesays.
“Soit’saguiltyconscience,then.”
Charliesaysnothing,allowingJoshtoadd,“Ithinkyou’rebeingtoohardonyourself.”
“Idon’t.”
“Butyouare.It’snotlikeitwasyourfault.”
“Isawhim,”Charliesays.“YetIcan’tidentifyhim.Whichdoesmakeitmyfault.EvenifIcouldidentifyhim,there’sstillthefactthatIabandonedMaddy.IfIhadstayedwithher,noneofthiswouldhavehappened.”
“Idon’tblameyouforanyofthat.I’mnotjudgingyou.Iguessyouthinkothersdo—”
“Iknowtheydo,”Charliesays,thinkingaboutthatcallwithMaddy’smother,howafterwardshe’dfelthollow.Howshestillfeelsasemptyasafootball,toquoteJimmyStewartinRearWindow
“Why?Werepeoplemeantoyou?”
“No.”
Ifanything,everyonewassuffocatinglykind.Allthoseweepy-eyedgirlscomingtoherdoorwithfoodandcardsandflowers.Therewereinvitationstotradedormrooms,togoongroupoutings(“There’ssafetyinnumbers!”),tojoinaprayercircle.Charliedeclinedthemall.Shedidn’twanttheirsympathy.Shedidn’tdeserveit.
“Thenmaybeyoushouldstopbeatingyourselfupoversomethingyoucouldn’tcontrol.”
Charlie’shearditallbefore,fromliterallyeveryoneexceptMaddy’sfamily.Andshe’stiredofit.Tiredofbeingtoldwhattofeel,thatitwasn’therfault,thatsheneedstoforgiveherself.Sotiredofitallthatalumpofangerexplodesinherchestlikeafirecracker—white-hotandshimmering.Fueledbyitsburn,shewhipsawayfromthewindowand,practicallysnarlingatJosh,yells,“Andmaybeyoushouldshutthefuckupaboutsomethingthathasnothingtodowithyou!”
TheoutburstsurprisesJosh,who’ssostartledhesendsthecarshudderingofftheroadforafewjarringseconds.NotsurprisedisCharlie,whoalwayssuspectedsuchanexplosionwouldarriveatsomepoint.Shejustdidn’tthinkitwouldbeinacarwithamanshedoesn’tknow,hervoiceboomingthroughthepine-scentedinterior.Nowthatit’shappened,she’sleftbreathless,shaken,andcompletelyashamedofherself.Sheslumpsbackinherseat,suddenlyexhausted.
“I’msorry,”shesays.“Iwas—”
“Holdingthatinforalongtime.”Josh’svoiceisamonotone.Hisexpressionisblank.Charliewondersifhe’sfeelinghurtorangryorfrightened.Allarejustifiable.Iftheirroleswerereversed,she’dbewonderingwhatkindofcrazypersonshe’djustletintohercar.
“Ididn’tmean—”
Joshstopsherwitharaisedhand.“Let’sjustnottalkaboutit.”
“That’sprobablyforthebest.”
Noonesaysanythingforthenextfewminutes.Plungedintosilence,theybothkeeptheireyesontheroad.Thesnowhasstopped.Asuddenceasing.Almostasifheroutbursthadfrighteneditaway.Charlieknowsthat’sstupidtothink.ItwasjustabriefNovembersquall,hereandgoneinminutes,yetshefeelsguiltyallthesame.
ThecarisstillquietwhentheypassasignindicatingthattheentranceramptoInterstate80istwomilesahead.Immediatelyafterthatisanothersign,thisonefor7-Eleven.
Thelastconveniencestorebeforetheyhitthehighway.
Ifthetwoofthemmakeitthatfar.Afterthewayshe’sacted,Charliewouldn’tblameJoshfordumpingheronthesideoftheroadandspeedingaway.Instead,hepullsintotheempty7-Elevenlot,parksnearthefrontdoor,andcutstheengine.
“I’mgettingcoffee,”hesays.“Youwantsome?”
Charlienoteshistone.Cordialbutcool.
“Yes,”shesays,speakingthesameway,asifshe’stalkingtoaprofessorshedoesn’tlike.“Please.”
“Howdoyoutakeit?”
“Milkandtwosugars,”Charliesays,reachingforherbackpackonthefloor.
“Thisone’sonme,”Joshsays.“I’llberightback.”
Heslidesoutofthecarandhurriesintothe7-Eleven.Throughthestore’sgiantfrontwindow,Charlieseeshimnodhellotothecashier—akidinaflannelshirtandgreenknitcap.Behindhim,atinyTVneartheceilingbroadcaststhenews.PresidentBushisonthescreen,doinganinterviewwithBarbaraWalters,ashiswhite-hairedwife—asecondBarbara—sitsbesidehim.JoshgivestheTVapassingglancebeforemovingtowardthecoffeestation.
Charlieknowssheshouldgoinwithhim.Itwouldbethepolitethingtodo.Asignal,howevermeager,thatshe’sanactive,willingpartofthisjourney.Butshedoesn’tknowhowtodothat.There’snocinematicframeofreferenceforhertofollow.Asfarassheknows,there’snotaheraldedI-let-my-best-friend-get-murdered-and-now-I-can’t-function-like-a-normal-human-beingmovieouttherethatshehasn’tseenyet.
Sosheremainsinthecar,theseatbeltstillstrappedtightacrossherchestasshetriestopullherselftogether.Sheworriesshe’sgoingtospendtheentiretyofthetriplikethis—nervousandflighty,heremotionsaspricklyasaballofbarbedwire.ItmakesherquestionherdecisiontoleaveOlyphant.Notthewhyofit.She’scertainaboutthatpart.Whatshedoubtsishowshechosetoleave.MaybeitwouldhavebeenbettertowaituntilRobbiecoulddriveherandnotridewithastrangerwho,ifshekeepsthisup,reallymightdropheroffinthemiddleofnowhere.Maybe,despiteherurgentdesiretoleave,she’sjustnotreadytomakethisjourneywithoutsomeonesheknows.
Outsidethecar,apayphonesitsafewfeetfromtheconveniencestore’sfrontdoor.Charliestartstosearchherbackpackforloosechange,wonderingifsheshouldcallRobbieandaskhimtotakeherbacktocampus.Shecaneventrytomakelightofthesituation,usingthecodehegaveher.
Thingstookadetour.
Yes,theyhave.Inallmannerofways.NowallshewantsisforRobbietotakeherbacktoOlyphant.It’snotthatfarofadrive.Onlythirtyminutes.Andwhentheygetthere,she’llwait—simplywait—untilThanksgiving.
Thenshecangohome,trytoputallthisbehindher.
Mindmadeupandarmedwithchange,Charlieunfastenstheseatbelt,whichretractswithastartlingclick.Whensheopensthepassenger-sidedoor,thecar’sinteriorlightflickson,bathingherinasicklyyellowglow.Shestartstoslideoutofthecarbutstopsherselfwhenanothercarpullsintotheparkinglot.AbeigeDodgeOmnipackedwithteenagers.Inside,musicpulses,muffledbywindowsrattlingtothebeat.ThecarscreechestoastoptwospacesawayfromJosh’sGrandAm,andagirlimmediatelypopsoutofthepassengerside.Insidethecar,someoneshoutsforhertogrababagofCornNuts.Thegirlbowsandsays,“Yes,mydarlingdearest.”
She’syoung—seventeenatmost—butdrunk.Charliecantellbythewaysheshufflestothecurbonhigh-heeledboots,hamperedfurtherbyherskintightminidress.SeeinghergivesCharlieapainfultwinge.MemoriesofMaddy,alsodrunk.Thegirlevenlooksabitlikeher,withherblondhairandprettyface.Andwhileherclothesaren’tremotelysimilar—Maddywouldneverhavewornsomethingsocurrent—theirattitudesseemtomatch.Boldandmessyandloud.
Charliesupposesthere’saMaddyineverytown,ineverystate.Awholearmyofbrashblondgirlswhogetdrunkanddosweepingbowsinparkinglotsandservetheirbestfriendsbirthdaybreakfastsofchampagneandcake,asMaddyusedtodoforCharlieeachMarch.Thethoughtpleasesher—untilsherealizesthere’snowatownwithoutone.
MakingitworseisthemusicspillingouttheOmni’sstill-openpassengerdoor.
TheCure.
“JustLikeHeaven”
ThesamesongthatwasthrumminginsidethebarwhenCharliespokethosehorriblelastwordstoMaddy.
You’reanawfulfriend.Ihopeyouknowthat.
Followedbythefinaltwo,lobbedoverhershoulderlikeagrenade.
Fuckoff.
Charlierecoilsbackintothecarandslamsthedoorshut.AlldesiretoreturntoOlyphant,evenifjustforthenexttendays,isgone.Ifthiswassomekindofsignthatsheshouldcontinuemovingforward,Charlie’snoticeditloudandclear.Soloudthatshecoversherhandswithherearstomufflethemusic,removingthemonlyafternot-quite-Maddygetsbackintothecarwithanice-blueSlurpee,apackofMarlboroLights,andabagofCornNutsforherfriend.
Joshexitsthe7-ElevenastheOmnipullsoutoftheparkinglot.Hepushesthroughthedoorbalancingtwojumbocoffees,onestackedatoptheother.Heuseshischintosteadythem,hiswalletabufferbetweenitandtheplasticlidofthetopcup.Whenhestepsoffthecurb,thecupsbobbleandhiswalletslidesoutfromunderhischin.Ithitstheasphaltwithasplat.
Thistime,Charliedoesn’tneedacinematicexampletounderstandshemustgetoutofthecarandhelp.Soshedoes,chirping“I’llgetit”beforeJoshcankneeltopickupthewallet.
“Thanks,”hesays.“Canyoualsogetthedoor?”
“Sure.”
Charliescoopsupthewalletandstuffsitinhercoatpocketbeforerushingbacktothecarandopeningthedriver’s-sidedoor.Joshthenhandsheracoffeecupsobigshehastoholditwithbothhandsassheslidesintothepassengerseat.Backinsidethecar,bothofthemcradletheirsteamingcups.Charlietakesafewsmall,scaldingsipstoshowherappreciation.
“Thankyouforthecoffee,”shesaysafteranotherdemonstrativesip.
“Itwasnoproblem.”
“AndI’msorryaboutearlier.”
“It’sfine,”Joshsays.“We’rebothdealingwithshitrightnow.Emotionsarealittleraw.Everything’scool.Readytogo?”
Charliegivesthepayphoneoutsidethestoreabrief,disinterestedglanceandtakesanothersipofcoffee.“Yeah.Let’sroll.”
It’snotuntilJoshhasstartedthecarandisbackingitoutoftheparkingspotthatCharlienoticesthelumpinhercoatpocket.Josh’swallet,allbutforgotten.Sheholdsitupandsays,“Whatdoyouwantmetodowiththis?”
“Justsetitonthedashboardfornow.”
Charliedoes,thewalletslidingafewinchesasJoshturnstheGrandAmontothemainroad.Itslidesagainafewsecondslaterwhentheyveertotheright,hittingtheentranceramptotheinterstate.ItkeepsonslidingasJoshshiftsintosecondgear—asuddenjoltofspeed.ThewalletdropsoffthedashboardandintoCharlie’slap,flappingopenlikebatwingstakingflight.
ThefirstthingsheseesarecreditcardstuckedintoindividualslatsthatobscureeverythingbutthetopsofVisaandAmericanExpresslogos.Ontheothersideofthewallet,snugbehindaplasticsleeve,isJosh’sdriver’slicense.
Hislicensephotoisenviablygood,theshittyDMVcamerasomehowmanagingtohighlighthisbestassets.Thejawline.Thesmile.Thegreathair.ThepictureonCharlie’slicensemakesherlooklikeastonedzombie—asecondaryreasonshechosenottogetitrenewed.
Charlie’sabouttoclosethewalletwhenshenoticessomethingstrange.
Josh’sdriver’slicenseisissuedbythestateofPennsylvania.NotOhio,whichwouldmakesense,consideringthat’swherehe’sfrom.EvenmorelogicalwouldbeaNewJerseylicense,seeinghowJoshtoldherhe’sworkedatOlyphantforthepastfouryears.
ButPennsylvania?Thatjustseemswrong.EvenifhelivedtherebeforemovingtoOhiowithhisfather,itwouldhaveexpiredlikeherown.
Charlie’sgazedartstothedatewhenthelicensewasissued.
May1991.
Ascurrentasyoucanget.
Thensheseesthenameprintedatthebottomofthelicenseandalltheairleavesherlungs.
ItsaysJake.
NotJoshorJoshuaoranyothervariationofthename.
JakeCollins.
Charliesnapsthewalletshutandtossesitbackonthedashboard.Asinkingfeelingoverwhelmsher,asifthecariscomingapartandatanysecondherheelswillstartscrapingasphalt.Hergazeflickstotheroadahead,justincasesuchascenarioisactuallyhappeningandsheneedstoknowwhattoexpect.Aheadofthemisadarkribbonofhighwaystretchingtowardthehorizon.
They’vereachedInterstate80.
TheroadthatwilltakethemoutofNewJersey,allthewayacrossPennsylvania,andintoOhio.
AndCharliehasnoideawhothemandrivinghertherereallyis.
TENP.M.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charliekeepshergazefixedonthehighwayahead.Thereareothercarsonit,butnotmany.Certainlynotasmanyasshethoughtthere’dbe.Taillightsglowredinthedistance—toofarawaytoprovideanycomfort.Thesamegoesforheadlightsbehindthem.Aquickglanceinthesidemirrorrevealsonlyonecarontheirtail.Charlieestimatesit’saquartermileaway.Maybemore.
Itonlyreinforcesthefeelingthatshe’salone.
Inacar.
Withastranger.
“It’squietinhere.”
Charlie’ssodistractedbythehighwayandthelicenseandthewalletsittingonthedashboardthatatfirstshedoesn’thearJosh.
OrJake.
Orwhoeverheis.
It’sonlywhenhesayshername—acurt,curious“Charlie?”—thatshesnapsoutofitandturnshisway.
“Whatdidyousay?”shesays,studyingJosh,double-checkingtomakesureitreallyishispictureonthatdriver’slicense,eventhoughthere’snoreasonhe’dbecarryinganotherman’slicense.Nogoodreason,thatis.Nolegalone.
“Isaidit’squietinhere.”Joshflasheshiskillersmile,inadvertentlyconfirmingforCharliethat,yes,heisthemanpicturedonthatlicense.Fewpeoplehaveasmilelikethat.“Wereyouwatchingamovie?”
Charliedoesn’tknowwhattodo.Onceagain,herfilmknowledge—aguidepostformostofhermundaneactions—hasfailedherwhensheneedsitmost.ShethinksaboutShadowofaDoubtandthatotherCharlie,hernamesake.Whatwouldshedointhissituation?
Shewouldn’tbestupid,that’sforsure.
She’dbesmart.She’dbeplucky.
ThatwasgoodoldMovieCharlie.
Andbeingpluckymeansbeingbraveandfacingthesituationheadon.Itdoesn’tmeanthrowingopenthepassenger-sidedoorandflingingherselfoutofthecar,injuriesbedamned,whichisRealCharlie’sfirstinstinct.Herfingershavewrappedaroundthedoorhandle,eventhoughshedoesn’tremembermovingthemthere.Sheforcesherhandintoherlap.
AnotherthingMovieCharliewouldn’tdoisletJoshknowsheknowshemightbelyingtoher,whichgoesagainstcommonsense.Mostpeople,ifstuckinthisscenario,wouldjustflat-outaskifhisnameisreallyJakeCollins.
That’swhatMaddywouldhavedone.
ButMaddy’sdeadnow,maybebecauseshedidexactlythat.Calledsomeguyout.Gothimangry.Madehimwanttohurther.
Andnotjustanyguy.
TheCampusKiller.
SoCharliestayssilent,eventhoughthequestionisperchedonthetipofhertongue,readytospringboardintotheair.Shestartstowashitawaywithasplashofcoffeebutdecidesagainstitbeforetakingasip.IfJoshisn’twhohesaysheis,she’scertainlynotgoingtodrinkmorefromthecoffeecuphejusthandedher.Neveracceptadrinkfromsomeonesuspicious.That’sCommonSenseforWomen101.
“I’mjustthinking,”shesays.
It’sthetruth.Sheisthinking.AboutthelicenseinJosh’swallet.Aboutwhatitmeans.Aboutwhyshehopesthere’sasimple,rational,non-scaryreasonbehindit.
“Isitthecoffee?”Joshsays.“DidImessup?Toomuchsugar?”
“No,it’sfine.It’sgreat,actually.”
Charliepretendstotakealong,satisfiedswig.Asshedoes,athoughthitsher
MaybeJosh’sdriver’slicenseisfake.There’snothingsuspiciousaboutthat.Afterall,CharlieherselfhasafakeID,procuredfreshmanyearthroughthefriendofafriendofaguyMaddyknewfromoneofhertheaterclasses.It’stheonethepolicedidn’tcareabout.
Butunlikeher,Joshdoesn’tneedafakeID.He’sclearlyovertwenty-one,whichmakesCharliewonderwhyhehasit.Sentimentalreasons,maybe.Yetthatstilldoesn’tmakesense.EvenifsheunderstoodtheideaofkeepingafakeIDfromyouryouth,whichshedoesn’t,itdoesn’texplainwhyJoshcarriesitinthespotinhiswalletreservedforhisrealdriver’slicense.Thenthere’sthedateCharliesaw.It’scurrent.There’snowayafakeIDfromfive,maybeeventenyearsagowouldsportthatdate.Also,Joshlookedthesameageinthelicensephotoashedoesnow.Unlesshe’savampire,somethingelseisgoingonhere.
“MindifIplaysomemusic?”Joshsays.
“Yes.”
“Sothat’sanoonthemusic?”
“No.Ontheno,Imean.”Charliehearstheanxietyinhervoice.She’sflustered.KnowingMovieCharlienevergotthatway,shetakesabreathandsays,“WhatImeanisyes,playsomemusic.Whateveryouwant.”
“You’remyguest,”Joshsays.“Whatdoyoulike?Andpleasedon’tsayPaulaAbdul.Or,worse,AmyGrant.”
Charlie,whosavesallherstrongopinionsforfilms,doesn’tknowwhatmusicshelikes.ShealwayslistenedtowhateverMaddywasplaying,whichmeantmoodyalternativepop.TheCure,ofcourse,butalsoNewOrder,DepecheMode,alittleR.E.M.CharliestoleoneofMaddy’smixtapesjustbeforeherstepfatherarrivedtocollectherthingsfromthedorm.SheoccasionallylistenedtoitandpretendedMaddywasintheroomwithher.
“Ihavenopreference,”shesays.“Truly.”
“Driver’schoice,then.”
Joshflipsopentheconsoleseparatingthem.WhenthelidbumpsCharlie’sarm,sherecoils,startled.
“Wow,you’rejumpy,”Joshsays.
Yes.Yes,sheis.Andit’sshowing,whichneedstostopimmediately.Charliegiveshimatight-lippedsmileandsays,“Iwasn’texpectingit,that’sall.Mybad.”
“Noworries.”
Hepullsaplasticcassettecasefromtheconsole.Thecoversleeveshowsanakedbabysubmergedinwater,swimmingtowardadollarbillonafishhook.Charlie’sseentheimagebefore.OneoftheRAsinherdormhasaposterofitonherwall.
Joshpopsthecassetteintothecar’stapedeckandpressesplay.Anaggressiveguitarrifffillsthecar,followedbyablitzofdrumsand,hotonitsheels,anexplosionofsound.Theneverythingsettlesintoadrumbeatasquickandsteadyasarunner’spost-sprintheartrate.
Charlieknowsthesong.“SmellsLikeTeenSpirit.”She’dhearditseveraltimesthumpingthroughthewallofthedormroomnextdoor.Butnow,unmuffled,itfeelslikeaprimalroar,urginghertoscreamalong.
“Ilovetheseguys,”Joshsays.“They’reawesome.”
WhileCharliewouldn’tgothatfar,sheappreciateshowthemusicfillsthecar,eliminatingtheneedtotalk.NowshecanjustsithereandcontinuetothinkaboutJosh/Jake/Whoeverandhisdriver’slicense.
Sureenough,anothertheorypresentsitself:Joshisn’talegalresidentandneedsafakelicensetodrive.Thatwouldexplainthedate.Andthepicture.Andmaybeevenwhyit’saPennsylvanialicenseandnotfromNewJerseyorOhio.
Charliethinksbacktoanhourago,whenJoshpickedherup.Shedidn’tlookattheGrandAm’slicenseplate.Itneveroccurredtohertodoso.Shewastoofocusedoncheckingtherestofthecarforsignssheshouldturnaroundandleave.IfshehadandseenPennsylvaniaplates,thenshe’dknowforcertainJoshislyingabouthisname.
Butshedidn’tlook.Notthenandnotwhenhewasinsidethe7-Eleven.Untiltheystopagain—whichcouldbehours—theonlywaytofindoutwherethecarisregisteredistocheckhisinsuranceandregistrationcards.
Which,Charlierealizes,couldbeanywhere.Herparentskepttheirsintheglovecompartment.NanaNormakeepshersinherpurse.AndMaddy,whodroveanuglyorangeVolkswagenBeetleshe’ddubbedPumpkin,stashedhersbehindthedriver’s-sidevisor.
Charlieeyesthecloseddooroftheglovecompartment,mereinchesfromherknees.Shecan’topenit.Notrightnow.NotwithoutmakingJoshwonderwhyshefeltcompelledtostartriflingthroughit.Thesamegoesforhiswallet,whichnowsitsstubbornlyonthedashboard,notmovingamillimeter.
Rightnow,shehasnootheroptionbuttositquietlyasJoshtapsthesteeringwheelintimetothemusic.WatchinghimmakesCharliethinkbacktothedrivinglessonswithherfatherandhowhe’dtossoutquestionsasshetriedtoparallelparkorenactathree-pointturn.What’sthespeedlimitinaschoolzonewhenstudentsarearriving?Whendrivinginfog,shouldyourheadlightsbeathighbeamorlowbeam?Alwayscometoacompletestopatayieldsign:trueorfalse?
Charlieknewtheanswers.She’dallbutmemorizedherdriver’sedmanual.Butwithmostofherbrainconcentratingondriving,thecorrectresponseseludedher.Shemessedup.Orgotflustered.Ortossedoutananswersheknewwaswrongjustbecauseshefeltcompelledtosaysomething.
SheknowsJoshislyingtoher.Atleast,sheassumesheis.Allsheneedsisproof.Andwhileshemightnotbeabletorootaroundinhiswalletandglovecompartment,shecanaskquestionswhilehe’sdistractedandhopethetruthemerges.
ThatsoundslikesomethingelseMovieCharliewoulddo.Tossoutafewinnocent-soundingquestions.Onesthatwon’tmakeJoshsuspecthermotives.Theymightleadtonothing.Buttheycan’thurt.It’scertainlybetterthanjustsittinghere.
“Ijustrealizedsomething,”shesays,talkingoverthemusic.“Idon’tknowyourlastname.”
“Really?Inevertoldyou?”
“Nope.”
Joshtakesasipofcoffee,hiseyesneverleavingtheroad.Charliewondersifnotglancingherwayisasignofdisinterestorasignheknowswhatshe’sthinkinganddoesn’twanttoaddfueltohersuspicion.
“Idon’tthinkyouevertoldmeyours,”hesays.
“It’sJordan,”Charliesays.
“Mine’sBaxter.”
JoshBaxter.
Charlietakesinthename,stoic,evenasasmallbubbleofdisappointmentpopsinherchest.Shetrulyhopedhe’dsayCollins,whichwouldthenmakeherthinkthatJoshwassomesortofnickname.Maybeamiddlenamehepreferredoverhisfirstone,likethegirlinherdormwhoseunfortunatefirstnamewasBunnybutdemandedeveryoneusehermiddlename,Megan.Itwouldn’thaveexplainedeverything,butatleastitwouldhavecalmedhersome.Nowshe’stheoppositeofcalm,simmeringwithdreadthatshe’sreallyontosomething.
“DidyoualwaysliveinAkron?”
“IgrewupinToledo,remember?”
Damn.She’dhopedhewouldbeeasytotripup.IfJoshcanbetrippedup.Charlieremainsawarethathemightnotbelying.Thattheremightbeasilly,simpleexplanationforwhythelicenseinhiswalletsaysthecompleteoppositeofwhathe’stellinghernow.
“That’sright,”shesays.“Toledo.YourunclelivesinAkron.”
“Myaunt,”Joshsays.“Myunclediedfiveyearsago.”
“SinceyougrewupinOhio,whatbroughtyoutoOlyphant?”
“Ijustendedupthere.Youknowhowitis.Yougetajob.Stayawhile.Moveontosomethingelse.Acoupleyearsgobyandyoudoitagain.”
Charlienotesthevaguenessofhisanswer,assumesitwasthatwayonpurpose,moveson.
“Didyoulikeitthere,though?Beingagroundskeeper?”
“Janitor,”Joshsays.
Charlienods,disappointedthatsheagainfailedtotriphimup.Sheneedstodobetter.
“Areyousadtobeleaving?”
“Iguessso,”Joshsays.“Ihaven’treallythoughtaboutit.Whenyourdadneedsyou,yougo,right?”
“Howlongdoyouthinkyou’llbehome?”
“Idon’tknow.Itdependsonhowquicklyherecovers.Ifthat’sevenpossible.”Josh’svoicebreaks.Justalittle.Atinycrackinhisotherwisesmoothtone.“Iwastoldhe’sinprettyroughshape.”
Anothervagueanswer,althoughthistimeCharlie’snotasquicktoassumeit’sintentional.Joshsoundssincere.Enoughtogiveheratwingeofguiltfordoubtingeverythinghe’stoldher.Sheconsidersthepossibilityhe’stellingthetruth.Ifso,whatdoesthatmakeher?Paranoid?Heartless?
No,itmakeshercautious.AfterwhathappenedtoMaddy,shehaseveryrighttobethatway.Whichiswhysheresumesherlineofquestioning.
“I’msorrytohearthat,”shesays.“Whathappenedtohimagain?Heartattack?”
“Stroke,”Joshsays.“Ijusttoldyouthat,like,fifteenminutesago.Boy,youhaveaterriblememory.”
HelooksatCharlieforthefirsttimesincetheconversationbegan,andshenoticesashimmerofsuspicioncrosshisface.He’sontoher.
Maybe.
Hecouldalsobewonderingwhyshe’ssuddenlyaskingsomanyquestions.Orwhyshecan’tseemtorememberanyofhisanswers.ItmakesCharlieaddanotheritemtoherlistofthingstodo,joining“besmart”and“bebrave.”
Becareful.
“SmellsLikeTeenSpirit”ends,replacedwithanothersongCharlie’sheardonlythroughthedormroomwall.Shewaitsafewbeatsbeforesaying,“Sorryaboutallthequestions.I’llstop,ifyouwantmeto.”
“Idon’tmind,”Joshsays,ahollowringinhisvoicetellingCharliethatmightnotbethetruth.Hemightmindquiteabit.
“I’mjustcurious,”sheadds.“I’veonlyseenOlyphantasastudent.Ithinkit’sinterestingtogetapictureoftheplacefromthesideofsomeonewhoworkedthere.”
“Eventhoughyou’renotgoingback?”
“Imightbe,”Charliesays.“Atsomepoint.”
“Well,Ican’tsayit’sallthatinterestingfromtheotherside.”
“Idon’trememberseeingalotofjanitorsaround,”shesays.“Whatkindofhoursdidyouwork?Nights?Weekends?”
“Sometimes.Alsodays.Myhourswerealloverthemap.”
“Andyouworkedinclassrooms?”
“Andoffices.Everywhere,really.”
Joshturnsawayfromtheroadagaintogiveheranothermaybe-suspicious-maybe-notlook.It’smorethanjusthisanswersthatarevague,Charlierealizes.It’shiswholepersona.EverythingaboutJoshishardtoread.
Nowsheneedstouseittoheradvantage.
“Whatwasyourfavoritebuildingtoworkin?”shesays.
“Myfavorite?”
“Yeah,”Charliesays.“Everyonehasafavoritebuildingoncampus.MineisMadisonHall.”
Joshsquints,uncertain.“Isthattheone—”
“Withthethingontop?”Charliesays.“Yeah.”
“That’sright,”Joshsays,noddingalong.“Ilikethatone,too.”
Charliewaitsabeat.Consideringheroptions.Weighingwhichissmarter,braver,morecareful.Finally,shesays,“ThereisnoMadisonHalloncampus.Iwasjustmessingwithyou.”
Joshrollswithit,asshehopedhewould.Slappingahandtohischeek,hesmilesandsays,“NowonderIwasconfused!Youweresoconvincing,yetIkeptthinking,Isshemakingthisup?I’veneverheardofMadisonHall.”
Andthereitis.Shetrickedhimatlast,afactthatprovidesCharliewithnosenseofhappiness.Theoppositehappens.Shefeelsworseknowingthatherfearsareifnotproven,atleastjustified.Joshislyingtoher.AtleastaboutworkingatOlyphantUniversity.Andprobablyabouteverythingelseaswell.
BecausethereisaMadisonHalloncampus.Rightinthecenterofit.Amassive,multicolumnstructurethathostsgraduations,concerts,andperformances.Everystudentknowsofitsexistence.Whichmeanseveryemployeewould,too.Evenajanitor.
ThisleadsCharlietoanunnervingconclusion.Onethatcreatesthesamelumpofworryinhergutshegotassoonasshesawhislicense.
Joshdoesn’tworkatOlyphant.
Heneverhas.
Andifhe’snotastudentandhe’snotanemployee,thenwhoishe?
Andwhywashehangingaroundtherideboardinthecampuscommons?
And—thebiggest,scariestquestion—what,ifanything,doeshewantwithCharlie?
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Joshshiftsthecarintoalowergearastheyreachanincline.ThebeginningofahillyareathatwilltakethemoveraridgeandthendownthroughtheDelawareWaterGapandintoPennsylvania.Withthechangeinelevationcomesfog,wispsofwhichbegintoenvelopetheGrandAmthehigheritclimbs.Soonthecarissurrounded.Charlielooksoutthewindshieldandseesonlythick,grayswirlsaheadofthem.Aglanceinthesidemirrorshowsthesamethingbehindthem.Anycarsthatmightbeinthevicinityarelostinthemist.AsenseofisolationsettlesoverCharlie,driftingaroundherlikethefog.
It’sjustherandJosh.
Allalone.
Thesongendsandanotherbegins,startlingCharlie,who’dstoppednoticingthemusic.Shehadbeentoobusythinking.WonderingaboutJosh.Whoheis.Whathewants.Lostinherownmentalfog,duringwhichherrighthandhadonceagainfounditswaytothedoorhandleatherside.Thistime,Charlieletsitstaythere.
ThenewsonghasaslinkybassriffthatslightlyremindsCharlieofthesurfguitarrockherparentslistenedtoconstantly.Sheknowsthetitleofthesong,thoughshe’snotsurehow.
“ComeasYouAre.”
Joshshutsoffthestereo,andthecarisplungedintosilence.
“Let’splay,”Joshsays.
“Playwhat?”Charliereplies,tryinghardtokeepfromsoundingasnervousasshefeels.
“TwentyQuestions.Ifwe’regoingtoplaythegame,weshoulddoitright.”
Charliecontinuestostudythesidemirror,hopingacarwillspeedintoviewbehindthem.She’dfeelbetterwithanothersetofheadlightsinsightandnotjustamutedglowinthedistance.Itwouldmeanthere’ssomeoneelsenearbyifthingsgobad.She’sseenenoughmoviestoknowhowsituationscanchangefortheworseinasplitsecond.Andshe’shadenoughlifeexperiencetobackthatup
Notthatshe’scertainJoshwantstodoherharm.Whenitcomestothemansittingamerefootaway,nothingiscertain.Butit’sapossibility.Enoughofonethatsheslidesalittleclosertothepassengerdoor,tryingtoputanadditionalinchbetweenthem.Enoughtokeephercheckingthesidemirror,lookinginvainforthoseheadlights.Enoughforthesamesixwordstokeeprepeatingthroughherheadlikeagood-luckchant.
Besmart.Bebrave.Becareful.
“Iwasn’treallyplayingagame,”shesays.
“Seemedlikeittome.”Joshgivesalittleshrug,theliftofhisshouldercutshortbyhisgriponthesteeringwheel.“Seeinghowyouweremessingwithmejustnow.Imean,Iassumethat’swhyyoudidit.Becausewe’replayingagame.”
Charliemakesanotherminusculeedgetowardthedoor.“Ididn’tmeananythingbyit.”
“Oh,Iknow,”Joshsays.“I’mnotmad.Igetit.We’restuckinthiscartogether.Runningoutofthingstosay.Whynotasksomequestionsandkidaroundabit.Sonowit’smyturn.TwentyQuestions.Youready?”
“I’mreallynotinthemoodrightnow.”
“Humorme,”Joshsays,cajoling.“Prettyplease?”
Charlierelents.It’stherightthingtodo.Playalong,keephimoccupied,hopethefogclearsandmorecarsstarttosurroundthem.
“Fine,”shesays,forcingapolitesmile.“Let’splay.”
“Great.I’mthinkingofanobject.You’vegottwentyquestionstofigureoutwhatitis.Go.”
Charlieknowsthegame.Sheplayeditonroadtripswithherparents,backwhenshewasalittlegirlandtheyusedtodriveeverywhere.KingsIslandandCedarPoint,whichwereevery-summerdestinations.ButalsoplacesoutsideofOhio.NiagaraFalls.MountRushmore.DisneyWorld.Charliespenteverydriveslumpedinthebackseat,swelteringbecauseherfatherclaimedthatusingtheairconditionerwastedgas.Whensheinevitablygottooboredandwhiny,hermotherwouldsay,“Twentyquestions,Charlie.Go.”
Therewasastandardquestionshe’dalwaysaskfirst.Onedesignedtonarrowthingsdownimmediately.Onlynow,atthestartofaverydifferentgame,shecan’trememberittosaveherlife.ThatlumpofworryshestillfeelsinherguttellsherJoshisn’tplayingthisjusttoamusehimself.
Therearestakesinvolved.
Onesmuchhigherthanwhenshewasakid.
“Yougoingtoaskaquestion?”Joshsays.
“Yeah.Justgivemeanothersecond.”
Charliecloseshereyesandpicturesthoseroadtripslikegrainyhomemovies.Herfatherbehindthewheelinridiculousoversizesunglassesthatclippedoverhisregularglasses.Hermotherinthefrontseatwiththewindowdown,herhairtrailingbehindher.Herinthebackseat,hersweatylegsstickingtoNaugahyde,openinghermouthtospeak.
Thememoryworks.Themandatoryfirstquestionpopsintoherhead,fullyformed.
“Isitbiggerthanabreadbox?”shesays.
Joshshakeshishead.“Negative.Onequestiondown.Nineteentogo.”
Charlie’smemoryhumslikeafilmprojector,quicklygivingherthesecondquestionshe’dalwaysask.
“Isitalive?”
“Interesting,”Joshsays.“I’mgoingtosayno,butsomeonesmarterthanmemightsayyes.”
Charlieconsidershisresponse,thinkinghard,knowingthatifshedoes,itmightpushasidealltheotherthoughtsslitheringthroughherbrain.Scarythoughts.Onesshedoesn’twanttothinkabout.Soshefocusesonthegame,pretendingitreallyisjustagameeventhoughsheknowsit’snot.
Notforher.
“Isitassociatedwithsomethingalive?”
“Yes.”
“Soit’spartofsomething.”
“Yes,”Joshsays.“AndIconsiderthataquestioneventhoughitwasn’tphrasedasone.Thatwouldn’tpassmusteronJeopardy!”
“Animalorvegetable?”
It’sanotheroneofthestandardquestionsshe’daskherparentsonthoselong-agoroadtrips.Eventhoughitwastechnicallytwoquestions,hermotheralwaysletitslide.Josh,ontheotherhand,callsheroutonit.
“YouknowIcanonlygiveyouyesornoanswers.Caretorephrase?”
Charlienolongertriestothinkaboutthegamessheplayedwithherparentsinthathot,stickycarwithitsperpetualMcDonald’ssmell.Sheworriesthecurrentgamewillruinthosememories.Shedoubtsshe’lleverwillinglyplayTwentyQuestionsagain.EvenifJoshturnsouttobeharmless.Averybigif.
“Isitvegetable?”Charliesays,riddingherbrainofimagesofherfather’sclip-onsunglassesandhermother’swind-blownhair.Instead,shepicturesplantsandallthethingsattachedtothem.Leavesandbranches.Thornsandberries.
“No.”
“It’sanimal,then.”
“Yes,”Joshsays,theanswernarrowingthingsdownbutnotawholelot.
“Isthisanimalcommon?”
“Very.”
“Isitwildortame?”
“That’stwoquestionsagain,Charlie.”
“Sorry.”
Charlie’svoicegoessmall,andshewincesuponhearingit.Howweakshesounds.Howscared.Andshecan’tsoundweakorscared.Shecan’t,underanycircumstance,letJoshknowshesuspectshe’suptonogood.Ifsheremainscalm—ifshecontinuestobesmart,brave,careful—there’sachancenothingbadwillhappen.
“I’llrephrase,”shesays,forcingsomesteelintohervoice.“Isthisanimalwild?”
“Itcanbe.Thewildest.”
Joshsmirksashesaysit.Aknowing,winking,bordering-on-smarmyupturnofhislipsthattellsCharliemorethananyspokenanswercould.
“You’retalkingabouthumans,right?”shesays.
“Iam.”
“Andisthisobjectyou’rethinkingofpartofthebody?”
“You’regoodatthisgame,youknowthat?You’veonlyasked—”Joshpausestocountthefingersonhisrighthand,thedigitsflexing.“Tenquestionsandyou’resoclosealready.”
Charlie’snotsureifthat’sagoodorbadthing.It’shardtotellwithoutknowingthestakes.ButsinceJoshseemstobeinnohurrytodoanythingbutcontinuetoplaythegame,Charliedecidesit’sbesttodojustthat.
Keephimoccupied.
KeephimhappyandcalmanddrivinguntiltheyreachaplacewheretheycanstopandCharliecangetoutofthecarandnevergetbackinagain.
That’sanotherthingshe’sdecided.Todowhatshe’sstartingtofearsheshouldhavedonebackatthe7-Elevenjustbeforethehighway—tellJoshshe’schangedhermind,leavethecar,getherthingsfromthetrunk,andlethimdriveawaywithouther.Shedoesn’tcareifshe’soverreactingandJoshisjustsomeharmlessweirdowhoonlywantstodrivehertoYoungstown.It’sbettertobesafethansorry.Andrightnow,safeisaplaceoutsideofthiscar.
“Isthisbodypartuseful?”
“Oh,it’sveryuseful,”Joshsays,againwiththeknowingsmirk.Thistime,though,itsaccompaniedbyaliftoftheeyebrowsthatsuggestssomethingbothsexualandsinister.SeeingitmakesCharlieshiftinherseat.
Itoccurstoher—justnow,whenit’sfartoolate,andnotbackwhenshewasstillsafelyatOlyphant—thatJoshcouldbeasexualpredator.Someonewholurescollegegirlsintohiscar,rapesthem,dumpsthemonthesideoftheroad.Thenhedrivesofftoadifferentuniversityandtheprocessbeginsanew.Joshiscertainlyphysicallycapableofit.HissizewasoneofthefirstthingsCharlienoticedabouthim.
Theworriedlumpinherstomachexpands,risingupwardintoherchest,pushingagainstherlungs.Herribcagetightens.Somuchsothatshetakesadeepbreath,justtoprovetoherselfthatshestillcan.
“Doallhumanshaveit?”sheasks,silentlypleadingthatJoshsaysyesandshecanstoptallyingallthepornographicpossibilitieshemightbethinkingof.
“Wedo,”Joshsays,morestraightforwardthistime,asifhe’srealizedhe’scrossedsomeinvisiblelinehedidn’tintendtobreach.NotthatitmakesCharliefeelanybetter.NowthattheideaofJoshbeingarapistisinherhead,shecan’tshakeit.
Herfingershaveneverleftthedoorhandle.Sheflexesthemagainstit.Atest.Seeinghowlongitmighttaketopullthehandleandflingthedooropen,ifitshouldcometothat.
Shedesperatelyhopesitdoesn’tcometothat.
“Isthisbodypartlocatedabovethewaist?”
“Asamatteroffact,itis,”Joshsays.
“Isitabovetheneck?”
“Yes.”
“Isitsomethingwe’rebornwith?”
Joshappearsthoughtful,takingamomenttosquintatthethinningfogoutsidethewindshield.Charliedoesthesame,relievedtoseenotonlythelighteningofthegrayoutsidebutasetoftaillightsglowingnottoofarinfrontofthem.Shechecksthesidemirror,andherreliefgrows.There’sacarbehindthemnow,headlightscuttingthroughthedissipatinggloom.Anotherpairofheadlightsjoinsit.Thenanother.
Charlie’shitwithafaintshimmerofhope.Maybeoneofthecarswilltrytopassthem.Maybeshecanflagdownthedriver.
“It’sfunnyyoushouldaskthat,”Joshsays,stillgazingoutthewindshield.“Becausewe’renot.”
Inaninstant,allofCharlie’shopefulnessdisappears.BecausesheknowstheobjectJoshisthinkingof—arealizationthatmakesitfeelasifallthebloodhasdrainedfromherbody.Icewaterpoursintoreplaceit,leavingCharliemotionlessandnumb.
“Youknowtheanswer,don’tyou?”Joshsays.
Charlienods,toounnervedtospeak.
“Thensayit,smarty-pants.”
Charlieswallowsandforcesherselftospeak,willingthewordsontohertongueandintothestiflingairofthecar.
“Isitatooth?”
“Itis.”Joshsmiles,proudofhimself.“Verygood.Yousolveditinsixteenquestions.”
“Whatmadeyoupickthatobject?”
“Idon’tknow.Itjustcametome.”AstrickenlookcrossesJosh’sface.“Oh,shit.I’msosorry,Charlie.Iwasn’tthinking.Nowonderyoulooklikeyou’vejustseenaghost.It’sbecauseofyourfriend.Thatguypulledoutoneofherteethafterkillingher,didn’the?”
Charlieshakesherhead,wantinghimtostoptalking.Needinghimtostop.Theurgetoshuthimupissogreatthatshe’dlungeintothedriver’sseatandclampahandoverhismouthiftherewasawaytodoitwithoutthemrunningofftheroad.Becausethemorehetalks,theworsethesituationbecomes.
Still,shehasanotherquestion.Oneshemustask.SheneedstohearJosh’sanswer.Shewantstobelievewhathesays,eventhougheveryice-coldnerveinherbodytellshershewon’t.
“Howdidyouknowaboutthetooth?”
“Ireadaboutitinthenewspaper.”
“Itwasn’tinthepapers,”Charliesays.
“I’mpositiveIreaditthere,”Joshsays.
He’slying.Thepolicewouldn’thavemadeherswearnottotellanyoneaboutMaddy’smissingtoothiftheyplannedongivingthatinformationtothepress,andCharlieassumesshewouldhaveheardaboutitiftheyhad.
SherunsthroughallthewaysJoshcouldknowaboutthemissingtooth,theleastscarybeingthathe’ssomehowrelatedtoMaddyandhearditfromhermother.Butthatmakesnosense.IfJoshwasafamilymember,it’slikelyCharliewouldhaveknownabouthimwhenMaddywasalive.EvenifMaddyhadn’tmentionedhim—andshelovedtotalkaboutherfamily—there’snoreasonwhyJoshwouldn’thavebroughtuptheconnectionimmediately.
Next,CharlieconsiderstheideathatJoshcouldbeacop.Orusedtobeone.Again,it’sunlikely.AnycopfamiliarwithMaddy’scasewouldalsoknowCharliehadbeenherroommate.
ThatleavesonelastpossiblereasonJoshknowsaboutthetooth.
OnesoscaryitmakesCharliesimultaneouslywanttoscream,throwup,andleapfromthemovingcar.
JoshknowsaboutMaddy’smissingtoothbecausehe’stheonewhotookitfromher.
WhichwouldmakehimworsethananythingCharliehadpreviouslythoughtof.
ItwouldmakehimtheCampusKiller.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charlieremainsmotionlessinthepassengerseat,thinkingtheunthinkable.
ShemightbeinacarwiththemanwhokilledMaddy.
Amanwhomightalsoplanonkillingher.
Amanwhohadflat-outwarnedhersuchascenariocouldhappen.
Charliestaresoutthewindshield,hergazefixedontheyellowbeamsoftheheadlightschasingawaythelastbitsoffogassherecallswhatJoshhadtoldherearlier.
He’sstilloutthere.
Hemightknowwhoyouare.
Hemighttrytocomeforyounext.
Charlieclingstothesecondwordofthatthought.
Might.
ShehasnoproofJoshistheCampusKiller.Onlyavaguesuspicionbasedonsomethinghesaid.
No.
Morethansomething.
Severalthings.Allofthemaddinguptoasuspicionthat’smorethanvague.CharliealreadyknowsJoshhasliedtoher—andiscontinuingtodoso.Theamountoflieshe’stoldsinceleavingOlyphantprobablyoutnumberstruthtentoone.
Butthatdoesn’tmeanhe’sakiller.
Itespeciallydoesn’tmeanhe’sthemanwhokilledMaddy.
Thisisn’tamovie.Thisisn’tShadowofaDoubt.Justbecauseshe’stryingtothinklikeMovieCharliedoesn’tmeantheysharethesamesituation.Moviesarefake,afterall.SomethingsheintrinsicallyknowsbutalwaysforgetswhenthelightsdimandtheprojectorwhirsandTechnicolorfillsthescreen.That’swhyCharlielovesthemsomuch.They’reabitofmagicbrighteningarealitythat’scoldandgrayanddull.
Mundane.
That’sthebestwaytodescribedailyexistence,withitsendlessparadeofdrudgeriesanddisappointments.Inreallife,peopledon’tbreakintosong.Theydon’tbattlespacemonsters.Andtheycertainlydon’tunwittinglygetintocarswithserialkillers.
“You’reprettyquietoverthere,Charlie,”Joshsays.
Charliestrugglestosummonaresponse.Shedoesn’twantJoshtoknowshe’ssuspiciousorafraid.Ifmovieshavetaughtheranything,it’sthatpredatorscansensefear.
“IguessIam.”
“You’renotmadatme,areyou?Forthetooththing?YouknowIdidn’tmeananythingbyit.Itwasn’tintentional.”
“Iknow.”
“Sowe’regood?”Joshsays.
“We’regood,”Charliesays,evenasshementallylistsallthethingsthataredefinitelynotgoodaboutJosh,startingwiththefactthatJoshisn’thisrealname.AndhowheliedaboutworkingatOlyphant.AndhowheknewabouttheCampusKilleryankingoutMaddy’stoothafterstabbinghertodeath.
CharliesneaksaglanceatJosh,searchingforanysimilaritiesbetweenhimandthedarkfigureshesawinthealleythenightMaddydied.Anythingshecomesupwithisvagueatbest.Maybethey’rethesameheight.Maybetheyshareabroadnessoftheshoulders.Butit’sallconjecture.Thetruthisthatthere’snowayforCharlietoknowifthey’reoneandthesame.
Theinsideofthecarhasbecomeunbearablyhot,evenasCharlieherselfremainsfreezingcold.It’saclashofextremetemperaturesthatmakesherthinkshe’sgoingtomeltawayanymomentnow.Herskinslidingoff.Herorgansturningtogel.Adisappearing.Theonlythingsleftbehindasteamingpileofbones.
Andteeth,ofcourse.
Charliesuspectsthere’sareasonJosh’sgameofTwentyQuestionsledtothat.It’spossiblehewastryingtotellherwhoheisandwhathe’sdone.Aroundaboutconfession.Orperhapsawarning.
It’salsopossiblehemeantnothingbyit,althoughCharliehasherdoubts.TheoddsofhimsettlingonatoothastheanswerareasslimasheracceptingaridefromthemanwhokilledMaddy.
Yetthosearetheonlytwooptions.EitherJoshisaharmlessliarwhosofarhasmanagedtosayanddoallthewrongthings,orhe’sthemanwhobrutallymurderedherbestfriendandtwootherwomen.Charliecanthinkofnootherscenariobetweenthoseunlikelypoles.
Facedwithsuchuncertainty,sheunderstandsonethingandonethingonly.
Sheneedstogetoutofthiscar.
Immediately.
Itdoesn’tmatterifJoshposesnorealthreat.Thealternative—thathedoes—istooriskytoconsider.It’sbesttoerronthesideofcaution.Tobesmart,tobebrave,tobecareful.
StayinginthiscarwithJoshisn’tanyofthosethings.
They’vedescendedintotheDelawareValley,afewmilesfromthePennsylvaniaborder.Thefogiscompletelygonenow,revealinganightskypulsingwithstarlight,arivertotheirleft,andthreelanesofblacktopstretchingtowardthehorizoninfrontofthem.
Charlieremainsfocusedonthehighwayahead,unabletobringherselftolookatJoshforevenasecond.Yetsheremainshyper-awareofhispresence,mereinchesaway.Thesheerbulkofhim.Thewayhispresencefillsthecar.Thesteadyrhythmofhisbreath.There’snowaytoignorehim.
There’snowaytoescapehim,either,shortofthrowingherselfoutofthecar,anideaCharliekeepsreturningtoagainandagain.Herrighthandcontinuestogripthedoorhandle,herfingerstightaroundit,readytospringintoaction.
Charliewoulddoit,too,ifshewascertainsuchaleapwouldn’tkillher.Butitdefinitelycould.Sheguessesshehasafiftypercentchanceofsurvival.Maybeless,consideringtherearenowmorecarsontheroad.Charliecountsfourbehindthem.Fourvehiclesthatmightnotbeabletoveeroutofthewayifshedoesjump,theirtiresrumblingoverherbodylikeitwasaspeedbump.
Itwouldbedifferentiftheywereintherightlane,whereCharliecouldattempttoflingherselfontotheroad’sshoulder,wheregrasswouldslightlysoftenherlanding.ButJoshhassteeredtheGrandAmintothecenterlane,hisdrivingasevenashisbreathing.Keepingthecartightlyinsidethelanelines.Goinganacceptablethreemilesoverthespeedlimit.Doingnothingtodrawtheattentionofothermotorists.
Oneofthecarsbehindthemchangeslanes,movingintotherightone.ItsshiftinpositionleavesaspeckofbrightnessinthesidemirroroutsideCharlie’swindow.
Headlights.
Gettinglarger.
Charlietwistsinherseattogetabetterlookatthecarcomingupontheright.Thedriverclearlyintendstopassthemeventually,eventhoughit’stechnicallyonlylegaltopassontheleft.Asthecarkeepscoming,Charliespotssomethingontopofitsroof—alightbarstretchingfromonesideofthecartotheother.Shethenseesthewordsthathavebeenappliedtothevehicle’sbody,rightoverthefronttire.
STATETROOPER
Charlie’sheartgallops.Astatetrooperispullingupbesidethem.Almostasifshewilledhimintoexistence.Nowallsheneedstodoisgetthetrooper’sattentionwithoutJoshseeing.
Charliepressesherforeheadagainstthewindow,theglasscoolagainstherskin
“Youokay,Charlie?”Joshsays.
“I’mfine.”
“Youdon’tlookfine.”
“Justalittlecarsick.”
Awarmbreathridesthesibilantsecondhalfoftheword.Ithitsthewindow,creatingatinycircleoffogontheglass.Charliestaresatit,notblinkinguntilitfades.
Shespeaksagain.
“Don’tworry.I’mnotgoingtopukeoranything.Italwayspasses.”
Thewindowfogsagain,thistimeinaslightlylargerpatch.Charliecountsoffthesecondsuntilitdisappears.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Joshnoticesthetrooper,too,becausehetapsthebrakesamoment,bringingthembelowthespeedlimit.
“Yousure?”hesays.
“I’msure.”
Afreshbloomoffogspreadsontothewindow.Charliecountsagain.
Anothernineseconds.
Notalotoftime.Butpossiblyenough.
Sherunsafingeralongtheglass,movingitinapattern,tracinglettersthatdon’texist.
Yet.
CharlieturnstowardJosh,makingsurehiseyesarestillontheroad.Thenit’sbacktothewindow,herforeheadmeetingglass,lookingbackwardtotrackthestatetrooper’sprogress.Whenthepolicecar’sfrontbumperrunsparalleltotheGrandAm’sbackone,shegetstowork.
“I’mfeelingbetteralready,”shesays.“Coolingmyforeheadhelps.”
Thetwinhuffsfromthoselasttwowordscreateacircleoffogtwicethesizeofthepreviousones.Thecountdownbegins.
Nine.
CharliedoesanotherquickcheckofJosh.
Eight.
Shereturnstothewindow.
Seven.
Shetwistsherbody,blockingJosh’sview.
Six.
Shepressesthetipofherindexfingertotheglassandbeginstowrite.
Five.
Thefirstletteristhreequicklinesinthefog.
Four.
Anotherletter,thistimeonelonglinefollowedbythreeshortbursts.
Three.
Andanother—twoquickslashes.
Two.
Thefinalletter.Aslashandaswoop.
One.
Thefogvanishes,takingwithitthewordshe’dmanagedtoscrawl.
HELP
“Youevergetthatway?”sheasksJosh.“Carsick?”
Thecircleoffogreappearsonthewindow,asdoestheword“HELP,”writtenbackwardsoitcanbereadclearlybythetrooperwhenhedrivespastthem.
Asthepolicecargainsonthem,Joshgivesthebrakesanotherbrieftap.Thereductioninspeedbringsthetwovehiclesinline.Theytravelsidebysideamoment,Charlie’shopefulheartthumpingevenharderwhenshespiesthetrooperbehindthewheel.Helookstough.Abulldogwithabuzzcut.AndallCharlieneedstogethisattentionistobreathe.
Ifthatdoesn’twork,she’llscream.
Soloudhe’llbeabletohearherthroughtwopanesofglass.
ThenthetrooperwillswitchonthosebeautifulredandwhitelightsandJoshwillhavenochoicebuttopulloverandCharliewillrun.Shedoesn’tcareifJoshturnsouttobeharmlessandshelooksstupid.Atthatmoment,allshewantsistobeoutofthiscar,freefromJoshandallthedoubtanduncertaintyhecarrieswithhim.
Charlieinhales,gatheringherbreath,hopingforacloudoffogontheglassthatwilllasttenseconds,maybelonger.
Sheexhales.
Thewindowfogs,obscuringtheimageofthetrooperinthenextcaroverasthewordshedrewstartstoform.
HELP
Joshhitsthebrakesagain.Harderthistime.EnoughforCharlietofeelmomentumtugheragainsttheseatbeltasshewatchesthetrooperpullaheadofthem.Amomentlater,thestatepolicecarhaspassedthemcompletely.Charlie’sheart,sowildsecondsearlier,allbutstopsasthetrooperkeepsmoving,hispatrolcargettingsmallerwitheachpassingsecond.
She’smissedherchance.
AllbecauseJoshtappedthebrakes.
Didhedothatonpurpose?
Moredoubt.
EnoughtoheightenCharlie’sdesiretogetoutofthecarbyanymeanspossible
Herhanddropsbacktothedoorhandleandgivesitasqueeze.Godhelpher,she’sgoingtohavetojump.
Rightnow.
Thegoodnewsisthatthehighwayhasnarrowedtotwolanes—likelythereasonthestatetrooperpassedthemontheright.Hewasrunningoutofroad.AndmaybeJoshknewthat,hencethetappingofthebrakesthatfoiledherplan.
Charliesneaksaglanceatthespeedometer.
NowthatthetrooperisaMatchboxcaronthehorizon,Joshhasincreasedhisspeedtosixtymilesanhour.
Fast.
Toofastfortheroadahead,whichrunsnexttotheDelawareRiver,huggingthemountainsideinaseriesoftightturns.
Anddefinitelytoofastforhertoleapfromthecarlikeshenowknowsshemustdo.Evenifshecouldsurvivethejumpunscathed—whichshecan’t;notatthisspeed—there’snownowheretogo.OnJosh’ssideofthehighwayismorehighway,alowstonewall,thenriver.Charlie’ssideisnothingbutmountain,risinghighintothenightsky,itstreesandcragsbarelyvisible.
Charliehadalwayslikedthisstretchofroad,forbothitswildbeautyanditsincongruity.Withitspeaksandpinesandwideexpanseofcurvingriver,itremindedherofsomethingmorelikelytobefoundoutwestandnotontheborderbetweenNewJerseyandPennsylvania.WhenpassingthroughwithNanaNormaorRobbiebehindthewheel,she’drolldownthewindow,takeinthefreshair,revelinthesceneryshefoundbeautifulinanyseason.
Butthatwasalwaysindaylight.She’snevertraveledthroughthiscanyonatnightuntilnow.Itchangesthings,thedarkness.Itmakesthefamiliarforeign.Theinnocentsuspicious.
Shewondersifit’sthesamewithJosh,ifit’smerelythepresenceofnightthat’smakinghersuspiciousofeverythinghedoesandsaysandimplies.Maybeallofthiswouldfeeldifferentandlessthreateninginthelightofday.
Charliedoesn’tthinkso.
Josh’sactionswouldbeshadynomatterthetime.
Hedoesn’tacknowledgeitwhenCharliemakesanothercheckofthespeedometerandseestheyhaven’tslowed.Hehasn’tshownanyinterestinheratallsincethestatetrooperappearedbehindthem.Yethe’swatchingherallthesame.Charliecanfeelit.Aprickleofheatcomingfromthedriver’ssideashenavigatesanothercurve.Astheyspeedthroughthebend,thepineairfreshenerswingsfromtherearviewmirrorlikeacorpseonthegallows.
Charlietightenshergriponthedoorhandle,partlytosteadyherselfastheGrandAmcareensthroughanotherhairpincurveandpartlyincaseshedecidestoriskitandjumpanyway,eventhoughthatwouldbetantamounttosuicide.Themountainsideissoclosetothecar—apresenceasunnervingasJoshandlikelymoredangerous.Chunksofstonelittertheroad’snarrowshoulder.Theremainsofbouldersthathavefallenfromthehillsideandcrashedtoearth.
That’swhatherskullwouldlooklikeifshejumped.
Brokenbitsofbonestrewnamongtherocks.
Withinseconds,they’vereachedthebridgethatspanstheDelawareRiver,andleapingontothesideoftheroadisn’tevenanoption.There’snosideoftheroadtojumpto.Justathinstripofgravel-studdedblacktopandconcretebridgerailing.Beyondthat,dozensoffeetbelow,isdarkwater.
Jumpingnowwouldbesuicide.
Butthere’slightahead.AbeaconCharliehadcompletelyforgottenaboutuntilthismoment.
Atollplaza.
Sixlanesofboothsblockingtheentirewestboundhighwayjustontheothersideofthebridge.
Joshwillhavenochoicebuttoslowdown.
Andwhenhedoes,Charliewillmakehermove.
AstheGrandAmcontinuesacrossthebridgeandthetollplazalightsgetbrighter,Charlierunsthroughthemotionsinherhead.Anactionmovieofhermaking.
WaitforJoshtoslowthecar.
Flingthedooropenbeforehebringsittoacompletestop.
Thenrun.
Outofthecar.
Intothenexttolllane.
Thenthenextandthenextandthenext.
She’llrunscreamingandnotceaseuntilanothercarstopsforheroratollboothoperatorgrabsherorshereachessomeplacethat’ssafe.Thereareotherroadsnearby.Oneswithhousesandbusinessesandonlookerswho’llhopefullycometoherrescue.
Thetollplazaisclosernow,theirlanecrossedbyoneofthoseflimsywoodengatesthatserveassymbolsmorethananythingelse.Acarcouldsmashrightthroughit,somethingCharliefearsJoshmighttrytodo.Butthenhetapsthebrakesandthespeedometerplummetsfromsixty-fivetoforty-fivetotwenty-five.
Charliesqueezesthedoorhandle.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waitingasthecarslowstofifteen,ten,five.
Now,avoiceinCharlie’sheadshouts.Itmightbehermother’svoice.ItmightbeMaddy’s.Mostlikelyit’sacombinationofthetwo,theirmessageloudandclear.Runnow.
Charlie’sbodytightens.Gettingready.Preparingforthesprint.
Run!Maddyandhermotherkeepscreaminginherskull.Now!
Anothervoicejoinsthem.
Josh.
Speakingcalmlyfromthedriver’sseat.
“Charlie?”
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charliehearsmusic.
Theopeningchordsofasongshethoughttheyalreadystartedlisteningto.
Nirvana.
“ComeasYouAre.”
“Thatmusthavebeenonehellofamovie,”Joshsays.
ShockstillsCharlie’shand.ShefindsherselfturningtofaceJosh,eventhoughsheknowssheshouldbedoingtheopposite.
Openingthedoor.
Runningtosafety.
ButwhatJoshjustsaidholdsherinplace,forcinghertoask,“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Amovieinyourmind,”Joshsays.“Youjusthadone.Icouldtell.”
HebringstheGrandAmtoafullstopatthetollbooth.Hethenreachesacrosstheconsole,hisarminvadingCharlie’ssideofthecar,andforasplitsecondshethinkshe’sabouttorevealhistruenature.
Oneshestartedtosuspectminutesandmilesago.
Sheflinches,waiting.
ButallJoshdoesisretrievehiswalletfromthedashboard.IfhenoticesCharlie’sreaction—andhowcouldhehavemissedit?—hedoesn’tshowit.Hesimplyplucksafive-dollarbillfromthewallet,rollsdownthewindow,andnodstothetollcollector,astoutwomanstiflingayawn.
“YoulookastiredasIfeel,”Joshsays,oozingcharmashehandsherthefiveandpalmsthechange.“Hopeyougotsomestrongcoffeeonyou.”
“Ido,”thetollcollectorsays.“I’mgonnaneedit.”
Joshstuffsthecashbackintohiswallet,arrangingit.Hethenshovesthewalletintohisbackleftpocket.Charliewatcheshimdoit,herbodybuzzingwithuncertainty.WhatwasJoshtalkingabout?Therewasnomovieinhermind.
Right?
Charlie’sfingersflexagainstthedoorhandle,urgingtherestofhertojustpullit,justgetout,justgetaway.Shecan’tbringherselftodoit.SheneedstoknowwhatJoshmeant.
“Shiftjuststarting?”heasksthetollcollector.
“Yeah.Longnightahead.”
“Hopeitgoesquickforyou.”
AsJoshrollsupthewindow,Charlie’shitwithadesperateneedtoyelltothetollcollectorforhelp.Hermouthdropsopen,butshedoesn’tknowwhattosay.Joshjustsaidsheexperiencedamovieinhermind,andshehasnoideawhyorwhatitcouldmean.Andnowit’stoolate,becausethewindowisshutandthecar’sinmotionagain.TheGrandAmpassesthegateandleavesthetollplaza,itslightsrecedingintherearviewmirrorasthecarpicksupspeed.
Fifteenmilesperhour.Twenty-five.Thirty-five.
It’snotuntiltheyhitfifty-fivethatcuriositygetsthebestofCharlie.Sheclearsherthroat,tryingtoridthefearthatcoatshertonguelikedryingpaint,andsays,“Whatwereyoutalkingaboutbackthere?”
“Youwenttothemovies,”Joshsays.“Youreyeswereopen,butyouweretotallyzonedout.”
Butthatdoesn’tmakeanysense.WhenCharlieseesamovieinhermind,thesecondit’soversheunderstandsitwasallinhermind’seye.Thatitwasn’treal,eventhoughitfeltlikeit.Itfeelslikebeingnudgedawakewhenyoufallasleepinclass.Disorientingonlyforthetinysliveroftimeittakestounderstandwhathappened.
She’snever,notonce,thoughtthatwhatsheexperiencedwasstillrealafterthefact.
“Forhowlong?”shesays.
“Awhile,Iguess.”
Charliescansthedashboard,hopingtoseeaclockthatmighttellherwhatJoshcan’t—orwon’t.Butthereisn’taclockonthedashboard.Nosurprisethere.Maddy’scardidn’thaveaclock,either.Onlyfanciercarsdo,likethetanMercedesNanaNormainheritedfromoneofherelderlyboyfriendswho’dpassedawaytwosummersago.
“Ineedyoutobemorespecificthanthat,”shesays.
“Whydoesitmatter?”
Itmattersbecauseshehasnoideawhatreallyhappenedandwhatwasjustadark,twistedfantasyoccurringonlyinhermind.Onethatstillmightbeoccurring,althoughCharliehasherdoubts.Sheassumesshe’dhavesnappedoutofitbynow.Thenthere’sthefactthateverythingcurrentlyfeelsdepressinglyreal.Themoviesinhermindareusuallystylized.Lifeamplified.Thishasthedullnessofreality.
“Justgivemeatime,”shesays.
ShefindsherselfhopingJoshwillgiveheranoutlandishfigure.Onelongenoughtoeraseeveryunsettlingthingshe’sexperiencedduringthedrive.Itcouldeasilyhappen.Alongdrive.Nothingtoseeoutthewindowbutnight.Boredomsettlingin,justlikeitdidwhenshewasakid.Herthoughtsdrifting,turningthedrabrealityofacartripintosomethingexciting,somethingnew.
“Fiveminutes,”Joshsays,soundinglikehepickedthatnumbersimplybecausehethinksitwillpleaseher.
“Yousure?”
“Maybesix.Orlonger.Ihonestlydon’tknow.”
CharliewondersifJoshisbeingvagueonpurpose.Thatheknowsheslippedupbymentioningthetoothandisnowtryingtocoveritbyconfusingher.Thenagain,it’salsopossiblehetrulydoesn’tknowhowlongshewaslostinherownheadandistryingtobehelpful.
“Youhavetohavesomeideaofhowlongitlasted,”shesays.“Iwassittingnexttoyoutheentiretime.”
“Idon’tgetwhyyou’reaskingmeallthesequestions,”Joshsays,growingannoyed.“It’sbeennonstopeversincewehitthehighway.IfI’dknownthiswouldbecomeaninterrogation,Iwouldn’thaveofferedyouaride.”
Thisis,initsownbackhandedway,helpful.CharliehopesthatthroughJosh’sexperienceofthedriveshe’llgetabetterideaofherown.
“SoIdidaskyouallthosequestions?”shesays.
“Yes.AboutmydadandwhereIgrewupandmydamnworkschedule.”
Sincethatpartwasreal,sowaseverythingthatcamebeforeit.IncludingherseeingJosh’sdriver’slicense,whichpromptedallthosequestionsinthefirstplace.Thatparticularworryhasn’tchanged.
Itstillexists.
It’sstillpotentiallydangerous.
Asiftounderscorethatthought,Joshsays,“Areyouscaredofme,Charlie?IgetthefeelingImakeyounervous.Can’tsayIblameyou.Consideringwhathappenedtoyourfriendandall.Infact,I’dbesurprisedifyouweren’tnervous.Youdon’tknowme.Notreally.Don’tknowwhatI’mcapableofdoing.”
Charlieeyeshimfromtheothersideofthecar.Hisexpressionrevealsnothing.It’sjustablankslatefacinganopenroad.Shehateshowunreadableheis.Somaddeninglyopaque.Yetshe’sjealous,too.Shelongstoknowhowhedoesit.Howitseemssoeasyforhimtohidehisemotionswhenitfeelslikehereverythoughtandfeelingarevisible,likeanimageprojectedontoamoviescreen.
“Yes,”shesays.Sinceheclearlysuspectsit,there’snopointindenyingit.“Youmakemenervous.”
“Why?”
BecauseherbestfriendwasmurderedandshethinksJoshisthemanwhodiditandifshecan’teventrusthermind,thenshesureashellisn’tgoingtotrusthim.He’sliedtoher,afterall.Thisuncertaintyaboutthemovieinherminddoesn’tchangethat.
“BecauseIknowyou’relying,”sheblurtsout.“Iknowyournameisn’tJoshBaxter.Isawyourdriver’slicense.”
Joshfurrowshisbrow.“Ihonestlydon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,Charlie.”
“Isawit,Josh.OrshouldIstartcallingyouJake?”
ThefurrowacrossJosh’sforeheadgrowsdeeper—aridgeofconfusionstretchingfromtempletotemple.“Who’sJake?”
“Yourrealname,”Charliesays.“WhichIsawonyourrealdriver’slicense.Whenyourwalletfelloffthedashboard,itfloppedopenandthereitwas.JakeCollins.”
Joshlaughs.Alow,incredulouschuckle.
“Isthatwhatyoureallythink?ThatI’vebeenlyingaboutmyname?”
“Andotherthings,”Charliesays,finallyreleasingthesuspicionshe’dbeenholdingbacksinceJoshfirststeeredthemontothehighway.“Youdidn’tworkatOlyphant.Becauseifyoudid,you’dknowthattherereallyisaMadisonHallthere.”
Joshgrowsquiet,whichCharlietakesasasignheknowshe’sbeenbustedaboutatleastoneuntruth.
“You’reright,”hefinallysays.“Ineverworkedattheuniversity.Ineverwentthere,either.Imadeallofthatup.ForthepastfouryearsI’vebeenworkingattheRadioShackjustoffcampus.Wepasseditaswewereleaving.”
Charlienods,takingitin.Truthatlast.Asmall,tiny,inconsequentialbitofit.
“Obviousquestion,”shesays.“Whydidyoulieaboutthat?”
“WouldyouhaveagreedtogetinacarwithmeifItoldyouthetruth?”
“No,”Charliesays,notneedingtoeventhinkaboutit.Ofcourseshewouldn’thave.Nostudentintheirrightmindwouldridewithsomerandomstrangernotassociatedwiththeuniversity.“Anotherobviousquestion:Whydidyouneedtoluresomeoneintoyourcar?”
“Ididn’tlureyou,”Joshsays.
Charlieshootshimalook.“Well,Isureasfuckfeellured.”
“Ididn’twanttobealone.Isthatagoodenoughanswerforyou?Mydadhadastroke,andIfelthelplessandsadanddidn’twanttodrivetoOhiowithnothingbutallthosebadthoughtstokeepmecompany.SoIputonthisstupidsweatshirt,wenttotherideboard,andlookedforsomeonetoridewithme.”
Josh’svoicehasgrownquiet,almostsad.WhenhelooksatCharlie,hisexpressionmatcheshistone.EnoughthatguiltstartstogainatinyfootholdinCharlie’sheart.Assomeonegoingthroughherownshareofpain,sheevenunderstandswhyhedidit.Griefandsadnessarehorribleplacestodwellinalone.
Wasitdeceitful?
Yes.
Wasitcreepy?
Hellyes.
Butitdoesn’tmeanJoshisdangerous.Itdoesn’tmeanhewantstodoCharlieharm.
“Youcouldhavejusttoldmethatfromthestart,”shesays.
“Youwouldn’thavebelievedme,”Joshsays.“Itseemstomelikeyoudon’tbelieveawordI’vesaid.”
“Youhaven’tgivenmeanyreasonto,”Charliesays.“Iknowyourrealname,remember.”
“Igaveyoumyrealname.”
Usingonlyonehandtosteer,Joshpullsthewalletfromhisbackpocket.HehandsittoCharlie,wholooksatitlikeit’ssomethingvenomous.Asnakereadytostrike.
“Goon,”heurges.“Seeforyourself.”
Charlietakesthewallet,holdingitbyacornerbetweenherthumbandforefinger,asifshestillexpectsittobite.Sheplacesitinherlap,hesitant.Shealreadyknowswhatshe’sgoingtosee.APennsylvaniadriver’slicensewithJosh’spictureandthenameJakeCollins.
Butwhensheopensthewallet,shefindsnosuchthing.Inside,snugbehinditsclearplasticsleeve,isalicensedifferentfromtheoneshesaw.Thepicture’sthesame—Josh’sperfectgeneticsstillshiningthrough.ButthelicenseitselfisaNewJerseyone.Andprintedacrossthebottom,inlettersclearasday,isthenameJoshBaxter.
“Nowareyouconvinced?”hesays.
“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Ido,”Joshsays.
Charlieknowswhathe’simplying—thatitwasanothermovieinhermind.
“No,”shesays.“IknowwhatIsaw.”
“Whatyouthinkyousaw,”Joshsays.
Charliestaresatthelicenseinherlap,notblinking,asifthatmightsomehowchangeitbacktotheoneshesawearlier.Orthoughtshesaw,toputJosh’sspinonit.Asshekeepsstaring,CharlierealizeshowridiculousitistowantJoshtobelyingabouthisname.Butthealternativeisfarmorefrightening.Becauseifshe’swrongaboutthelicense—and,onthesurface,itlookslikeshe’sverywrong—thenshecouldbewrongabouteverythingthat’shappenedsinceshegotintothecar.
Charlie’sheadstartstospin—afull-fledgedTilt-a-WhirlthatonlygetsfasterthelongershelooksatJosh’slicense.Sheslapsthewalletshut,opensthecenterconsole,anddropsitinside.
“ComeasYouAre,”whichhadstillbeenblastingfromthestereo,endsandanothersongbegins.ThesuddenchangeinmusichitsaswitchinCharlie’sbrain.
JoshturnedoffthestereorightbeforehestartedhisincreasinglyuncomfortablegameofTwentyQuestions.ButthestereowasplayingwhenCharlieemergedfromtheallegedmovieinhermind.Thatmakesitlikelyeverythingsheexperiencedwhilethestereowasoffmightnothavehappened.
IncludingtheanswertoJosh’sgame.
Atooth.
Couldthatalsohavejustbeeninherhead?CouldtheonethingthatmadeherthinkJoshistheCampusKillernotbereal?
“DidweplayTwentyQuestions?”shesays.
Josh,abouttotakeadrinkfromhiscupofcoffee,stopsmid-sip.“What?”
“Thegame.TwentyQuestions.”
“Iknowwhatitis,Charlie.”
“Sodidweplayit?Afteryoushutoffthestereo?”
Charliepressesthestopbuttononthecarstereo,asifJoshneedsademonstrationtofullyunderstand.Thesuddenquietinthecarisdiscomfiting.ItmakesherrealizejusthowlongJoshwaitsbeforeanswering.Isthatbecausehehasnoideawhatshe’sreferringto?Orisitbecauseheknowsexactlywhatshemeansandisdebatingwhethertolieaboutit?
“Ineverturnedoffthestereo,”Joshsays.
“Youdid.YouturnedoffthemusicandweplayedTwentyQuestions.Iasked.Youanswered.AndIneed—”Charlie’svoicecatchesontheword,draggingitout,makingitclearjusthowimportantthisistoher.“Ineedtoknowifthatactuallyhappened.”
“Why?”
Becausetheanswerwouldtellherifshemightbetrappedinacarwithaserialkiller,that’swhy.OnlyCharliecan’tsaythattoJosh.Ifheknewwhatshewasthinking,thenhe’dundoubtedlylie.Yes,there’sachancehecouldlieevenwithoutknowinghersuspicions,butCharlie’snotgoingtomakethatdecisionforhim.
“Pleasejusttellme,”shesays.“DidweplayTwentyQuestions?”
Josh’sanswercomesstartlinglyfast.Nowaitingthistime.Justaninstant“No”tossedatherlikealitfirecracker.
Theanswershewantedyetdreaded.
“Positive?”shesays.
“Yes,Charlie.I’mabsolutelycertainwedidn’tplayTwentyQuestions.”
Charliesitswiththatamoment,lettingitseepintoherbrainlikeoneofthoselittleorangepillssheusedtotake.Andshouldstillbetaking.Becausewithoutthem,there’snothingstoppingthemoviesinhermindfromtakingover.Fromnotknowingwhatisrealityandwhatisanillusion.Afucked-upformofHollywoodmagic.
NoseeingJosh’srealnameonhisrealdriver’slicense.
NostatetrooperridingupbesidethemtorescueherlikeacowboyinaJohnFordflick.
Nohuffinghotbreathontothewindow.Orwriting“HELP”onthefoggedglass.Orplottingadaringleapfromthemovingcar.
Issuchathingevenpossible?Couldshehavegottensolostinherownspecificbrandofmake-believethatit’sstartedtobleedintoreality?
That’sneverhappenedbefore.
Untilnow,Charliehadthoughtofthemoviesinhermindasbriefmoments.Smallwindowsoftimeinwhichfantasyeclipsesharshreality.NodifferentfromthewaycinematographersusedtorubVaselineonthecamera’slenstogivetheleadingladyagauzyglow.
Andwhenoneends,Charlieknowsit’sover.Herbodysnapsbacktothepresent—theequivalentofthecreditsrollingandthetheaterlightscomingup.
Butthepasthourwasmorelikeafeverdream.Realandsurrealandalive
Theideathatsomeofhermemories,herpast,herlifemightnothaveoccurredthewaysheassumestheydidisalmostasunnervingasthinkingshe’sinacarwithaserialkiller.It’ssoconcerningthatshe’sreluctanttobelieveit.WhyshouldshetrustJoshoverherownmind?
Soshe’sbackwhereshestarted.WantingtobelieveJoshbutalsounwillingto.AndastheGrandAmcontinuesdownthehighway,headingfartherintotheuncertainnight,Charlieisconsciousoffourthings.
Noneofitmighthavehappened.Orallofitmighthavehappened.
OneofthemwouldmakeJoshcompletelyharmless.Theothermightmeanhe’stheCampusKiller.
AndCharliehasnoideawhichoneisthetruth.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
“MindifIturnthemusicbackon?”
Josh’svoicecutsthroughCharlie’sthoughts,jerkingheroutofthedeepmentalwellintowhichshe’dfallen.ShelooksatJosh.Shelooksathisfinger,poisedabovethestereo’splaybutton.Shewondersifshejustexperiencedanothermovieinhermindandthatnoneofthepasttenminutesactuallyhappened.
“Whatwasthelastthingyousaidtome?”
“MindifIturnthemusicbackon,”Joshsays,thistimewithoutthequestioninginflection.
“Beforethat.”
“Thatwehadn’tplayedTwentyQuestions.”
Charlienods.Good.Itwasn’tamovieinhermind.Unlessit’sstillgoingon.Thinkingsuchthingsmakesherfeelsimultaneouslydrunkandalsoinneedofastrongdrink.PartofherwantstotellJoshtopulloffatthenextexit,whereshecanputherfakeIDtogooduseatthefirstbartheypass.
Instead,she’llsettleforareststop,which,accordingtoahighwaysignthey’rejustnowpassing,sitsamileuptheroad.
“Ineedtogotothebathroom,”shesays,eyeingthesignasitslidespastthepassengerwindow.
“Now?”
“Yes.Now.Itwasallthatcoffee,”shesays,eventhoughshehasn’thadasipsincefirstseeingJosh’sdriver’slicense.
WhatshereallywantsistogetoutofthecarandgetawayfromJosh.Justforamoment.Sheneedstobealonewiththecrispnightaironherface,hopingthatwillbringsomeclarity.Becauserightnowshehasnothing.“I’llbequick.”
“Fine,”Joshsays,lettingoutawearysighexactlyliketheonesherdadwouldsometimesmakeduringthoselong-agoroadtrips.“Iwouldn’tmindstretchingmylegsmyself.”
Whentheoff-rampcomesintoview,Joshhitstherightturnsignalandslidesoffthehighway.Aheadofthem,thebuildinghousingtherestroomssitssquatandsilent.It’sasad,ungainlysingle-storyrectangleofbeigebrickswithdoorsandaroofpaintedshitbrown.
Theparkinglotisempty,saveforacardrivingawayastheypullin,itstaillightswinkingred.Charlie’sheartsinksasshewatchesitdepart.Shehadhopedtheplacewouldbecrowded,providingpeaceofmindwhileshestopstoregroup.Anemptyreststopprovidesnosuchcomfort.Rightnow,Joshcouldslitherthroat,yankhertooth,anddriveawaywithoutanyoneknowing.
Ifhe’stheCampusKiller,thatis.
SomethingelseCharlie’snotcompletelycertainabout.ShedoubtstheCampusKillerwouldparkdirectlybeneathoneoftheparkinglot’sstreetlamps,asJoshdoesnow.
Itcouldbeasignthatsheshouldtrusthim.
Oritcouldbehimtryingtotrickherintogivinghimthattrust.
Sittingintheparkedcarundertheconeoflightcomingfromthestreetlamp,Charlieknowssheneedstostopthinkingthisway.Allthisdoubt—hermindveeringwildlybetweentwoverydifferentscenarios—willonlygetworsethelongerthenightgoeson.Sheneedstopickalaneandactaccordingly.
Tohelpwiththatdecision,CharliedoeswhatsheshouldhavedonethemomentJoshpulleduptoherdorm:checktheGrandAm’slicenseplate.Shegetsoutofthecarandstandsbehindit,pretendingtostretch.Rollingherheadandswingingherarms,shesneaksalookatthelicenseplate.
NewJersey.
That’satleastonecheckintheTrustJoshcolumn.
“I’llberightback,”Charlietellshim,eventhoughit’snotagiven.It’sentirelypossibleshemightdecidetoneverenterthatcaragain.There’salsothepossibilityJoshmightkillherbeforeshegetsthechancetomakethatdecision.
Charliequickensherpaceasshewalkstotherestrooms.It’sunnervinglyquiethere,nottomentionsecluded.Behindher,aboutahundredyardsfromtheparkinglot,istheinterstate.Upahead,loomingdarklybehindthefacilities,isaforestofunknownsizeanddensity.
Justoutsidethedoortotherestroomsisapayphone.Charliepausesinfrontofit,knowingit’sstillnottoolatetocallRobbie.Whichiswhatsheshouldhavedoneatthe7-Elevenbeforetheyhitthehighway.Charlieknowsthatnow.Sheregrets,withanintensitythataches,notpickingupthephoneandsayingthosefourmagicalwords.
Thingstookadetour.
Charlie’sabouttoreachforthephonewhenshenoticesapieceofmaskingtapestuckoverthecoinslot.Shegrabsthereceiveranyway,liftingitfromitscradle.There’snodialtone.Justherluck.
Itisn’tuntilaftersheslamsthephonebackintoplacethatCharlierealizesJoshcouldbewatchingher.She’sstilloutsidethebuilding,infullviewofanyoneintheparkinglot.Sheshootsaquick,cautiousglancetowardtheGrandAm.Joshisthere,outsidethecarnow,stretchinghisarmstotheskywhilerollinghisneck.Hehasn’tseenathing.
Good.
Charliestepsintothebuilding,findingtheinsideasdepressingastheoutside.Thewallsaregray.Thefloorisdirty.Thelightsoverheadbuzzoutawan,yellowglow.Vendingmachineslinethewalltotheleft,offeringthreechoices:snacks,sodas,hotbeverages.Totherightarethebathrooms,men’sroombythedoor,ladies’roomtowardtheback.
HangingonthewallbetweenthemisalargemapshowingthestateofPennsylvania,withwideslicesofNewJerseyandOhiooneitherside.Charlie’sentireroutehomeisvisible—thelongredlineofInterstate80slitheringitswayacrosstheKeystoneState.Andthey’vebarelymadeitpasttheborder,asevidencedbyatinywhitearrowmarkingtheircurrentlocation.Ontopofthearrow,inminusculeredletters,itreadsyouarehere.
“Don’tbetoosureofthat,”Charliemutters,awarethatshecouldstillbeintheGrandAm,lostinanothermentalmovie.
Hell,whystopthere?There’snothingtokeepherfromthinkingthattheentirenight’sallamovieinhermind.ShecouldsnapoutofitandfindherselfbackatOlyphant.Or,evenbetter,backinSeptember,wakingupthemorningaftermarchingawayfromthatbarandawfulCurecoverbandtoseeMaddystillasleepontheothersideoftheroom,thepasttwomonthsnothingbutahorriblenightmare.
Charliecloseshereyes,hopingforthatexactscenario.Shewaits,herbodystill,tryingtowillthatversionofeventsintoexistence.Butwhenhereyesopen,she’sinthesamespot,facingthemapanditswhitearrow,whichnowfeelslikeataunt.
YOUAREHERE.
Fuck.
Ifthemapsaysit,thenitmustbetrue.It’sabouttheonlythingshecantrust.
INT.RESTSTOPBATHROOM—NIGHT
Disheartened,Charliepushesintotheladies’room.It’sdiminside,thankstothefactthatonlyonerowoflightsseemstobeworking.Theresultisarectangleofbrightnesscenterednearthesinkswhilethestallsontheothersideofthebathroomsitinshadow.Italsosmellsawful.Amixofurineandindustrialcleanerthatmakeshergag.
Usingahandtocoverhernoseandmouth,Charlieretreatstooneofthestallsonthedimsideofthebathroom.Thelastoneintherow,farthestawayfromthedoor.Shebacksherselfinsideandsitsonthetoilet,tryingtothink,tryingtocomeupwithsomekindofplan.
Shecouldwait.That’scertainlyanoption.Shecouldstayinthisbathroom,insidethisstall,andnotemergeuntilsomeoneelsearrivesatthereststop,whichthey’reboundtodosoon.Anothervehiclecouldbepullingintotheparkinglotthisverysecond.Charliecouldaskthemforhelpandbegforaridetothenearestpolicestation.Iftheyaskwhy,shecouldtellthemthetruth—thatthemanshe’swithsortof,kindof,couldbeaserialkiller.
Notaveryconvincingargument.
Andthat’swhathasCharliesoonedge.IfsheknewwithcertaintythatJoshwasdangerous,she’dbebarricadingthebathroomdoororrunningforthehighwayorhidinginthewoods.
Butnothingaboutthesituationiscertain.ShecouldbewrongaboutJosh.Itcouldallbeahugemisunderstanding.Herfancifulimaginationrunningatfullgallopbecauseherlifehasbeenaguilt-riddentrainwreckfortwomonths.
Someoneknocksonthebathroomdoor.Asingle,sharprapthatstartlesCharliesomuchthatshegaspswhenshehearsit.
Josh.
Charliedoesn’tthinkawomanwouldknock.It’stheladies’room.Shewouldjustwalkrightin.Whichisexactlywhathappensnext.Charliehearsthecreakofthedooropening,followedbythesoundoffootstepsonthestickytilefloor.
Thebathroom’sloneworkinglightstartstoflicker,onthecuspofjoiningtheothers.There’samomentofpuredarkness,followedbystaccatobuzzesoflightthatcontinueinastrobe-likepattern.
Charliehearsaraponthefirststallintherow,asifJoshischeckingtoseeifsomeone’sinside.Afteranotherquickrap,thedoorisopenedwitharoughshove.Ratherthangoingin,hemovestothesecondstall,rapsonthedoor,pushesitopen.
He’sonthehunt.
Forher.
Twostallsaway,CharliepullsherlegsontothetoiletseatsoJoshwon’tbeabletoseethemunderthedoor.Ifshestayslikethis,completelysilentandstill,thenmaybeJoshwillthinkshe’snotinhere,thatshe’sleftwithouthimnoticing,thatshesimplydisappeared.
Thenhe’llgoaway.
Joshisatthethirdstallnow.RightnexttoCharlie’s.Theflickeringlightssplatterhisshadowacrossthefloorinunevenburststhatmakeithardtotrackhispreciselocation.It’sthereforasliceofasecond,thengone,thenbackagain,onlyslightlycloserthistime.
Charliestaresatthefloor,watchingthestutter-startprogressoftheshadowasthedoortothestallnextdooristhrownopen.Sheclampsahandoverhermouth,tryingtomutethesoundofherbreathing.Auselessact.Shefearsherheartbeatalonewillgiveheraway,poundinglikeadruminherchest.
Joshisnowinfrontofherstall,hisstrobingshadowstretchingunderthedoorandintothestallitself,asifit’stryingtograbCharlie.
There’saraponthedoor.
Thenanother.
SoharditrattlesthedoorandmakesCharlierealize,withnerve-scaldinghorror,thatsheneverturnedthelatch.
Shemakesadesperategrabforthelock,butit’stoolate.Thedoorswingsinward,revealingCharliecrouchedontopofthetoilet,caughtinthediscoglowofthefaultylights.Standingontheothersideofthenow-opendoorisawoman.Mid-twenties.Too-tightstone-washedjeans.Bleached-blondhairwithastripofbrownattheroots.Sheletsoutastartledyelpasshejumpsawayfromthestall.
“Shit,”thewomansays.“Ithoughtitwasempty.”
Charlieremainscrouchedonthetoiletlikesomethingferal.Nowonderthewomanscuttlestothesinksontheothersideofthebathroom.Thewidemirrorabovethemreflectsthestrobingflashoftheoverheadfixture,makingitlooklikeshe’smovinginslowmotion.
“I’msorryIscaredyou,”Charliesays.
Thewomanlockseyeswithher.“LookslikeIscaredyoumore.”
“Ithoughtyouweresomeoneelse.”Charliestepsdownfromthetoilet,stilluncertain.“Whywereyoucheckingallthestalls?”
“BecausethisisareststoplateatnightandI’maloneandI’mnotanidiot.”
Thewomanpauses,leavingtheharshremainderofthesentenceunspoken.
Likeyou.
Thebathroomlightcontinuestostrobe.NowonderCharliewasfrightened.It’sveryslasherflick.VeryWesCraven.Theresultisthatthewomanisnowscaredofher,asifshe’sthedangerhere.WhenCharliestepsoutofthestall,thewomanflinches.
“Didyouseeaguyoutintheparkinglot?”Charliesays.“NexttotheGrandAm?”
“Yeah.”Thewoman,stillbackedagainstthesink,eyesthestallbehindher.Charliecantellshehastouseitbutisnowwonderingifshecanwaituntilthenextreststop.“Youwithhim?”
Charlierisksanothersteptowardher.“I’mnotsureIwanttobe.Isitpossible—Imean,couldyou,please,givemearide?”
“I’monlygoingtoBloomsburg,”thewomansays.
Charliedoesn’tknowwherethatis.Shedoesn’tcare,aslongasit’snothere.
“Idon’tmind,”shesays,tryingtosoundaccommodatingbutedgingclosertodesperation.“YoucandropmeoffsomewhereandI’llfindaridetherestofthewayhome.”
“Whycan’tyourboyfriendtakeyou?”
“He’snot—”
Myboyfriend.
That’swhatCharliewantstosay.
Butbeforeshecangetthewordsout,thebathroomdooropensagainandinsauntersMaddy.
“Hello,darling,”shesays.
Charliewatcheshercrosstheroomtothesinks,asclearandpresentandrealasthewomaninthestone-washedjeans.Maddy’sbetterdressed,ofcourse.Fuchsiadress,blackheels,astrandofpearlsdouble-loopedaroundherneck.
Maddystandsatthesinks,oblivioustotheotherwomanintheroom.Gazingatherreflectioninthemirror,shepuckersherlipsbeforeapplyingcrimsonlipstick.
“Youlookwretched,”shesaystoCharlie,smackingherlips,nowredasblood.“Butmycoatlooksfabonyou.”
Charliefingersthebuttonsonthecoat.Bigblackonesthatmakeherseemimpossiblysmall.Alittlegirlplayingdress-up.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Fresheningup,”Maddysays,asifthat’saperfectlylogicalexcusetoreturnfromthedead.“Also,Ineededtotellyousomething.”
Charliedoesn’twanttoaskwhatthatsomethingis.Butshedoesanyway.Sheneedsto.
“Tellmewhat?”
“Thatyoushouldn’thaveabandonedme,”Maddysays.
ThenshegrabsCharliebythehairandslamsherfaceagainsttheedgeofthesink.
INT.RESTSTOPBATHROOM—NIGHT
Charliejerksbacktolife,herbodyspasming,asifherheadreallyhadbeensmashedintothesink’sedge.Shecanstillheartheghastlysoundtheimpactmade.Bonebangingoffporcelain.
Buttherewasnosoundlikethat.
Notonethatcouldbeheardbytheotherwomaninthebathroom.Andthereisonlyoneotherwomanhere.Maddy’sgone.Wheresheoncestoodisjustapatchofgrimytilecaughtintheunremittingflashoftheoverheadlight.
Nexttoit,thewomaninthestone-washedjeanssays,“Hey.Areyouokay?”
Charlie’snotsurehowtoanswerthatone.Shejustsawherdeadbestfriendinthebathroomofaninterstatereststop.Ofcourseshe’snotfuckingokay.Butthewomandidn’tseeMaddy.Asalways,themovieinhermindplayedtoanaudienceofone.
“No,”Charliesays,concedingtheobvioustruth.
“Haveyoubeendrinking?”
“No.”
Charliesaysitthewayadrunkpersonwould.Tooloud.Tooemphatic.Overcompensatinginawaythatmakesitobviouslynottrue,althoughinCharlie’scaseitis.Butsheknowsthat’snotthevibeshe’sgivingoffandtriestocoursecorrect.
“Ijustneedtogethome.”
Charliemovestothewoman.Quickly.Closingthegapbetweentheminthreebigstrides,whichonlymakesthingsworse.Thewomanshrinksaway,eventhoughshe’sbackedallthewayupagainstthesinkwithnowheretogo.
“Ican’ttakeyou.”
“Please.”Charliereachesouttograbhersleeve,preparedtotugandbeg,butthinksbetterofit.“Iknowthatthisisgoingtosoundweird.Butthatguyoutthere?I’mnotsureItrusthim.”
“Whynot?”
“There’sachancethathemighthavekilledpeople.”
Insteadofsurprise,thewomangivesCharlieawarylook.Asifthiswasexactlywhatsheexpectedandisnowdisappointedtobesounsurprised.
“Might?”shesays.“Youdon’tknow?”
“Itoldyouitwasgoingtosoundweird.”
Thewomanhuffs.“Youweren’tlying.”
“Andno,Idon’tknowifhekilledsomeone,”Charliesays.“ButthefactthatIthinkhemighthave—evenatiny,littlebit—meansIshouldn’tgetbackinthecarwithhim,right?ThatIshouldbeworried?”
Thewoman,donewithitall,includingtheideaofusingthestallshe’dbeeneyeing,pushespastCharlieandheadstothedoor.
“Ifyouaskme,”shesays,“heshouldbeworriedaboutyougettingbackinthatcar.Whatevershityou’vebeendrinking,Isuggestswitchingtowater.Orcoffee.”
Thewomanpushesthroughthedoorand,justlikethat,isgone.Aloneagaininthefoul-smellingbathroom,Charlielooksaround,checkingforanysignsMaddymightstillbethere.Thefaintideathatshecouldstillbearound—thatwhatCharliehadseenwassomethingbeyondamentalmovie—provestoherjusthowunmooredfromrealityshe’sbecome.
Shegoestooneofthesinksandstaresatherreflectioninthemottledmirroraboveit.Eachflashoftheoverheadlightbrightensherskin,washingouthercomplexion,asifshewereill.Ormaybe,Charliethinks,maybeit’snotthelight.Maybethisishowshereallylooks.Sappedofcolor,turnedpalebyuncertainty.
Nowonderthatwomanfledthebathroom.IfCharliesawsomeonelookingthewayshedoes,sayingthethingsshesaid,she’dleave,too.Andshe’dlikelythinkthesamethingsthewomanthoughtofher.
Thatshe’sdrunk.Orcrazy.
Butshe’suncertain.Andanxious.Andnolongercapableoftrustingwhatshesees.That’swhatsheshouldhavetoldthewomaninsteadofsayingshedidn’ttrustJosh.Sheshouldhaveflat-outstatedthatitwasherselfshedidn’ttrust.
Tiredofstaringatherreflection,Charliesplashescoldwateronherface,notthatithelps,andhurriestothedoor.ShewantstoleavethebathroombeforeMaddyhasanotherchancetoreappear.ButCharlieknowsthatnomatterhowfastsheleaves,there’sachanceMaddywillshowupsomewhereelse.Orthatshe’llthinksomething’shappeningwhenit’sactuallynot.Orthatanothermovieinhermindwillspringupoutofnowhereandshewon’tevenbeawareit’shappening.
Forallsheknows,it’shappeningrightnow.
Movieaftermovieaftermovie.Likethey’reonthebillatamallcineplexsotightlyscheduledtheushersdon’tevenhavetimetosweepupthespilledpopcornbetweenshows.
ThefrequencyofthesevisionsworriesCharlie.Forthefirsttimeinherlife,shethinksitcouldbeasignshe’sslippingdeeperintopsychosisandthatoneofthesetimesshe’llneversnapoutofit.She’sheardofsuchthingshappening.Womenwhodisappearintotheirownworlds,lostinalandofmake-believe.
Maybeshe’salreadythere.
Charliepausesbeforeopeningthebathroomdoor.SheneedstocomposeherselfamomentbeforereturningtoJoshandtheGrandAm,whichshehastodo.Shewentintothebathroomknowingsheneededtomakeadecision.
Itturnsoutthedecisionwasmadeforher.
Ifshecan’ttrustherself,thensheneedstotrustJosh.
EXT.RESTSTOPPARKINGLOT—NIGHT
Hewasstillstretchingwhenthewomanarrived.Armsoverhishead,fingerslaced,tryingtoeaseoutsomeofthetensiontighteninghisneckandshoulders.Thenthecararrived.AnOldsmobilewithalousymufflerandatailpipethatlookedlikeitwasabouttofalloff.
Thecarparkedontheotherendofthelot,underastreetlampexactlyliketheonewheretheGrandAmsits.Thewomangotoutandgavehimanervousglancebeforehurryingupthesidewalktotherestrooms.
Sheneedn’thaveworried.She’snothistype.
Charlie,ontheotherhand,isverymuchhistype,whichposesaproblem.
Anotherproblem:thatthewomanintheOldsmobileenteredtherestroomfiveminutesago.Nowhe’sconcernedsheandCharliehavegottotalking.Heshouldn’thaveletCharliegooffalonelikethat.Heshouldhavefollowedherinsideandpretendedtoperusethevendingmachineswhileshewenttothebathroom.
There’salotheshouldhavedonetonight.Startingwithkeepinghisdamnmouthshut.
TwentyQuestionswasamistake.Herealizesthatnow.ButCharliewasaskingsomanyquestionsandhewasgettingannoyedandhethoughtitwouldbeamusingtomakeagameofit.Butmakinghisobjectatooth,well,thatwasn’tthesmartestmove.Curiositymadehimdoit.HewantedtoseeCharlie’sreactionwhenshefigureditout.Heshouldhaveknownitwouldsetheroffalittle,makehersuspicious.NowsheandtheOldsmobilechickareinthatbathroom,talkingaboutGodknowswhat.
That’sallhisfault.He’smanenoughtoadmitit.
Untiltonight,everythinghadbeeneasy.Staggeringlyeasy.Aneasyhewouldn’thavethoughtpossibleifhehadn’texperienceditfirsthand.He’dbeenoncampuslessthananhourbeforefindingher.Whenheshowedupsportingauniversitysweatshirttotrytofitin,hethoughtitwouldtakedaystotrackherdownandabitofold-fashionedforcetogetherintohiscar.
Instead,allittookwasaDietCokeinthecampuscommons.Therehewas,sippinghissodaandscopingoutthecrowd,whensheappearedattherideboardwithhersadlittleflyer.Itonlygoteasierfromthere.LieaboutgoingtoAkron,flashherasmile,lethersizehimupandthinksheknewexactlywhattypeofguyhewas.It’sagift,hislooks.Theonlyvaluablethinghisfatherevergavehim.He’shandsome,butnotmemorablyso.Ablankslateontowhichpeopleprojectwhatevertheywant.AndCharlie,hecouldtell,justwantedsomeonetrustworthytodriveherhome.Shepracticallyjumpedintohiscar.
Soincrediblyeasy.
Heshouldhaveknownthingswouldeventuallygowrongafterthat.Thatalwaysseemstobetheway.Sure,hemessedupwithTwentyQuestions.Butshitluckistoblameforeverythingelsethathappenedtonight.Soinsteadofcruisingtotheirdestination—whichisn’tOhio;notevenclose—Charlie’swithastranger,mayberightnowsharinghersuspicions.
Andsheissuspicious.Shegotthatwayassoonashiswalletfloppedopeninherlap.Heknowsshesawhisdriver’slicensebecauseshegotallnervousimmediatelyafter
Honestly,theonlythingthat’sgonehiswaytonightisCharlie’smentalstate.Heknewshe’dbealittlemessedup.Afterwhatshewentthrough,itwouldbeweirdifshewasn’t.Butthis—thiswasunexpected.
Moviesinhermind?
Talkaboutserendipity.
ItallowedhimtogetoutofthestickysituationcausedbythatgameofTwentyQuestions.Again,hisfault.Butherecoveredquickly.He’sgoodatthinkingonhisfeet.Hehastobe.
WhenhesawthatCharliewasabouttojumpfromthecaratthetollplaza,hedecidedtoturnthestereobackon,restartthesong,andpretendeverythingintheprevioustenminutes—TwentyQuestions,thementionofthetooth,thosetensetapsonthebrakeswhenthatdamnstatetroopercameupbehindthem—hadn’treallyhappened.
Itwasawild,ridiculousidea.MoreofaHailMarypassthanarationalplan.YethethinksCharliereallymighthaveboughtit.ThankGodforsmallmiracles,ashismomusedtosay.
OpeningtheGrandAm’sdriver’s-sidedoor,heslidesbehindthewheelandopensthecenterconsole.Inside,sittingamongtheemptyplasticcasefortheNirvanacassette,ascatteringofloosechange,andapackofJuicyFruitgumwithonestickremaining,ishiswallet.Hegrabsitandflipsitopen,comingface-to-facewithhisNewJerseylicense,whichbearsthesamefakenameashisNewYorkandDelawareones.Heslidesitoutofitsplasticsleeve,revealinganotherlicensebehindit.
Pennsylvania.
JakeCollins.
He’dmanagedtoswitchthematthetollplaza.Whilechattingupthewomaninthebooth,pilingonthecharm,hehadhiswalletinhand,swappingoutthereallicensewiththefakeone.ThenhemadesureCharliesawit,hopingthat,combinedwithherownfragilementalstate,she’dbelieveeverythingelsehetoldher
Andshedid.
Possibly.
He’sstillworriedaboutwhatmightbegoingdowninthatbathroom,whatCharliemightbesayingtotheOldsmobilechick,whathemightneedtodobecauseofit.
Hegetsoutofthecar,opensthetrunk,andshovesasideCharlie’sboxandsuitcases.He’scertainthatwhenshefindsoutwherethey’rereallygoing,Charliewillregretpackingsomuch.
Withherbelongingsoutoftheway,hegrabsthethingshewantedtokeepherfromseeingwhenheloadedherstuffintothetrunk.
Hisownboxes.
Oneiscardboard,insideofwhicharelicenseplatesfromNewYork,Delaware,andPennsylvania.Unlikehisdriver’slicense,herememberedtoswitchthosebeforeheadingofftopickupCharlie.Heassumedshe’dfreakoutifshedidn’tseeaNewJerseyplateonthecar.Turnsoutsheneverevenlooked.
Beneaththelicenseplatesareseveralloopsofropeinvariouslengths.Stuffedintoacorneroftheboxisawhitecloththat’slongerthanahandkerchiefbutshorterthanatowel.
Histrustygag.
Nexttothecardboardboxisametaltoolkit.Thesameonehispiece-of-shitdadkeptinthegaragewhenhewasakid.Nowhisdadisdeadandthetoolboxishis.Heopensitandsiftsthrougheverythinginside,pushingasidetheclawhammer,thescrewdriverswiththeirchisel-sharptips,thepairofpliers.
Finally,hefindswhathe’slookingfor.
Asetofhandcuffs,thekeystowhichhangonthekeychaininhispocket,andaknife.Theknifeisn’tbig.It’sdefinitelynotahuntingknife,althoughthere’soneofthosesittingsomewhereinsidethetoolbox.
ThisisaclassicSwissArmyKnife.Suitableforeveryoccasionandeasytohide
Hetakesthecuffsandtheknifeandshutsthetrunk.Beforeheadingtotherestrooms,heslidestheknifeintoonefrontpocketofhisjeansandthehandcuffsintotheother.
Hedoesn’twanttousethem.
Buthewillifhehasto.
ELEVENP.M.
INT.RESTSTOPBUILDING—NIGHT
JoshistherewhenCharlieleavesthebathroom.
Rightthere.
Inchesfromthedoor,hishandraisedinaknockthatneverhappens.
Charlieshrinksback,startled.AreplayoftheblondwomaninthebathroomwhenshefoundCharlieinthestall.
“AwomanoutsidesaidIshouldcheckonyou.Shesaidyou’reshit-faced.”Joshpauses,thrustinghishandsdeepintohispockets.“SoIhavetoask.Areyou,um,shit-faced?”
Charlieshakesherhead,wishingshewere.That,atleast,wouldexplainwhat’shappeninginsideherhead.Butinsteadofdrunk,shefeelsunmoored.Caughtonatidedraggingherouttosea,eventhoughshe’spaddlingashardasshecantowardshore.
“Itwasjustamisunderstanding,”shesays.
Joshrespondswithacuriousheadtilt.“Amoviemisunderstanding?”
“Ofcourse.”
Theystepoutside,andCharlieseesthatit’sstartedsnowingagain.Moreflurries.Aswispyasdust.Joshstopstocatchoneonhistongue,whichishowCharlieknowsthesnowisrealandnotjustherownpersonalsnowglobeàlaCitizenKane
Thefactthatshe’snotevencapableofdiscerningtheweatheronherowntellsCharlieshe’smadetherightdecision.Yes,shehashersuspicionsaboutJosh,buttheyfadewitheachsteptakentowardtheparkinglot.He’sstillcatchingsnowflakes,forGod’ssake,histonguehangingoutlikeadog’s.That’snotsomethingkillersdo.Kidsdothat.Nicepeopledothat.
AndCharlie’sleaningintotheideathatJoshcouldbenice,onceyouseepastthelieshetoldher.Liesthatheclearlyregrets.BecausebeforetheyclimbbackintotheGrandAm,JoshlooksatCharlieacrossthesnow-dappledroofofthecarandsays,“I’mreallysorry,bytheway.Ishouldn’thaveliedearlier.Ishouldhavebeenupfrontwithyouabouteverything,startingwithwhenwemetattherideboard.Youhaveeveryrighttonottrustme.”
“Idotrustyou,”Charliesays,eventhoughshedoesn’t.Notimplicitly.Thesimpletruthisthatrightnowshetrustsherselfless.
AsforJosh’slies,shechalksthoseuptolonelinessandnotmalice.Charlieunderstandsbeinglonely,havingcutherselfofffromeveryonebutRobbieandNanaNorma.SosheandJoshmightaswellbelonelytogether.
“We’regood,then?”Joshsays.
“Iguess,”Charliesays,whichisaboutashonestananswerasshecanmuster.
“Thenlet’sgo.”
Charliegetsintothecar.Evenifshedoeshavelingeringreservations,therearenootheroptions.Theoneothercaratthereststop,anOldsmobileidlingonthefarendoftheparkinglot,belongstothewomanCharlieencounteredinthebathroom.Shestandsnexttothecar,smokingacigarette,watchingthemleave.
Astheypass,Charlienoticestheconcernedlookonthewoman’sface,appearingandrecedinginaplumeofsmoke.ItmakesherwonderwhatelsethewomantoldJoshwhileshewasstillinthebathroom.DidshementionCharlie’sdistrust?Ifnot,doesshenowregretit?ShouldCharlieregretgettingbackintothiscar?
Shetellsherselfno.Thateverythingisfine.Thatsheshouldfollowthewoman’sadviceandhavesomecoffeetoclearherhead.Thenshe’llsettleinforalong,uneventfultriphome.
Joshapparentlyhasotherideas.
“Sowhatkindofmoviewasit?”hesays.“Musthavebeenadoozyifthatwomanthoughtyouwereonthesauce.”
CharliecanstillpictureMaddystandingbeforethemirror,puttingonthatlipstickasbrightasblood.Evenworse,shecanstillhearhervoice.
Youshouldn’thaveabandonedme.
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit,”shesays.
“Musthavebeenabadone,”Joshsays.
“Itwas.”
Charliewantstoforgetallaboutit.AndshecertainlyhasnointentionofrehashingitwithJosh.
“Behonestnow,”hesays.“Wasitreallythatbad?Ordoyounotwanttotellmebecauseyoustilldon’ttrustme?”
“ItrustpeopleIknow.”
“Thengettoknowme.”AgenialsmilecreepsacrossJosh’sface.“MaybewereallyshouldplayTwentyQuestions.”
Charliedoesn’tsmileback.She’sstilltoounnervedbythefactthatsheimaginedanentiregameofTwentyQuestions.Thatamovieinhermindlastedthatlong.Thatawholechunkoftimewaslost.
“I’drathernot,”shesays.
“Thenlet’sdoonequestioneach,”Joshsuggests.“Iaskyousomething,andthenyouaskmesomething.”
“Youalreadyknowenoughaboutme.”
“Youhaven’ttoldmeaboutyourparents.”
“Whataboutthem?”Charliesays.
“Theydiedinacaraccident,right?”
Charlie’sjoltedbythequestion.Tomaskherunease,shetakesasipofcoffeeandfocusesonthesnowhittingthewindshield.“Howdidyouknowthat?”
“Ididn’t,”Joshsays.“Ijustassumedit.”
“Fine.Howdidyouassumethat?”
“Becauseyoumentionedthatyoulivewithyourgrandmother,whichtellsmeyourparentsarenolongeralive.Youalsosaidyoudon’tdrive,whichIassumedwasachoiceandnotbecauseyou’rephysicallyincapableofit.Puttingallthattogether,Icametotheconclusionthatyoudon’tdrivebecauseyourparentswerekilledinacaraccident.TurnsoutIwasright.”
AprickleofannoyancejoinsCharlie’ssenseofunease.That’salotofassumptionsonhispart.Thatthey’realltruedoesn’tmakeitfeelanylessintrusive.
“Bythatlogic,I’mgoingtoassumethatsinceyouhaven’tmentionedyourmother,itmeansshe’sdead,too.”
“Shemightbe,”Joshsays.“Idon’tknow.SheleftwhenIwaseight.Ihaven’tseenorheardfromhersince.”
Charliedoesn’tknowwhattosaytothat,soshesaysnothing.
“ItwasHalloween,”Joshsays.“IrememberbecauseIdressedupasBatmanthatyear.Anditwasarealcostume,too.Notoneofthosecheapmasksandplasticcapesyougetatthedrugstore.Mymotherspentweeksmakingitforme.Shewasgoodwithasewingmachine,I’llgiveherthat.Shemadeagreatcostume.Iwassoexcitedtoshowitoff,youknow?Icouldn’twaitforpeopletoseemeasBatman.”
“WhyallthisexcitementaboutBatman?”
“Becausehewasthecoolest.”
“Batman?”Charliesays,incredulous.She’sseenboththecheesysixtiesTVshowandthedark,dourTimBurtonmovie.NeitherofthoseBatmenstruckherasparticularlycool.
“Toaneight-year-old,yeah,”Joshsays.“Especiallyonewhofeltalittleweirdandawkwardandwhoseparentswouldn’tstopfighting.”
Hisvoicegrowssoft,confessional.
“WhenI’dseemydadstartdrinkingandmymomgetthatdisapprovinglookinhereyes,Iknewitwasonlyamatteroftimebeforeafightbrokeout.Sowheneverthathappened,I’dgrabsomeBatmancomic,crawlunderthecovers,andpretendIwasinsidethatcomicbook,movingfrompaneltopanel.Itdidn’tmatterifIwasscaredthattheJokerortheRiddlerwastryingtogetme.Itwasbetterthanbeinginthathousewiththosepeoplescreamingateachotherdownstairs.”
“Theywerelikemoviesinyourmind,”Charliesays.
“Iguessso,”Joshsays.“Myversionofit,yeah.SoIwasdesperatetoactuallybeBatmanforanight.Iputthecostumeonandmydadtookmeouttrick-or-treatingandIgotmorecandythatyearthanIeverhadbefore.AndIknewitwasbecauseofthatcostume.Becauseofhowgreatitlooked.Whenwegothome,myarmsweretiredfromcarryingallthatcandy.”
Joshgivesasmall,sadchuckle.
“Andmymother,well,shewasgone.Whilewewereout,she’dcollectedafewthings,threwtheminasuitcase,andleft.Shewroteanote.‘I’msorry.’That’sallitsaid.Noexplanation.Nowaytocontacther.Justthatmeagerapology.Itwaslikeshehadjustvanished.AndIknow,that’swhatalldeathsfeellike.Thepersonisthereandthenthey’renotandyouhavetoadjusttolifewithoutthem.Butwhatmadeitsohardwasthatmymotherchosetoleave.Sheplannedtogothatway—withoutagoodbye.Iknowbecauseofthecostume.She’dneverspentthatmuchtimeononebefore,andIthinkit’sbecauseshehadalreadymadeuphermindthatshewasgoingtoleave.AndsosheputallherloveandattentionintothatonestupidBatmancostume,becausesheknewitwouldbethelastthingsheeverdidforme.”
Hestopstalking,lettinghisstory—thatlong,sadtale—lingerinthecarlikesmoke.
“Doyoustillmissher?”Charliesays.
“Sometimes.Doyoustillmissyourparents?”
Charlienods.“AndImissMaddy.”
Whatshedoesn’tsay,becauseshe’dneveradmitittoanyone,isthatshemissesMaddymorethanherparents.It’snotsomethingshe’sproudof.Shecertainlydoesn’tfeelgoodaboutfeelingthisway,butit’sthetruth.Sheisverymuchherparents’daughter.Herfatherwasquietandpronetointrospection,andsoisshe.Hermother,justlikeCharlie,wasanenthusiasticmovielover,courtesyofNanaNorma.Charliehasherfather’shazeleyesandhermother’spertnose,andsheseesthemeverytimeshelooksinthemirror.Theyarealwayswithher,whichgoesalongwaytowardlesseningthepainoflosingthem.
ButMaddywassomethingdifferent.AsforeignandexotictoCharlieasatropicalflowergrowinginthedesert.Brightandbeautifulandrare.It’swhyherlossstingsmoreandwhyCharliefeelssoguiltyaboutit.She’llnevermeetanotherMaddy.
“Whydidyoutellmethatstory?”sheasksJosh.
“BecauseIwantedyoutogettoknowme.”
“SoI’dtrustyou?”
“Maybe,”Joshsays.“Diditwork?”
“Maybe,”Charliereplies.
Joshhitsthewipers,swipingawaythegatheringsnow,andshiftsthecarintoalowergear,helpingitclimbtheslowbutsteadyriseofthehighway.
Charlie’sfamiliarwiththisstretchofroad.
ThePoconos.
TheplacewhereMaddyhadbeenbornandraised.
Theplacefromwhichshehopedtoescape.
Theypassafadedbillboardadvertisingoneofthosebighoneymoonresortsthathadbeenalltherageinthefiftiesandsixties.Thisoneisdecidedlyrustic.Withtimber-studdedwallsandaroofofgreenslate,itresemblesamassivelogcabin.MountainOasisLodge,it’scalled.Orusedtobe.Aconspicuouswhitebannerwithblackprinthasbeenslappedovertheimageofthelodge.
ENJOYOURLASTSEASON!
Judgingbythestateofthebanner—frayedatthecornersandfaded,thoughnotquiteasmuchastherestofthebillboard—Charlieassumestheresort’slastseasonendedseveralsummersago.
Maddy’sgrandmotherhadworkedataplacelikethatuntilitwentbelly-upinthelateeighties.Maddyhadregaledherwithstoriesofvisitinghergrandmotheratwork—runningthroughemptyballrooms,sneakingintovacantrooms,sprawlingacrossroundbedswithmirroredceilingsandscramblinginsidebathtubsshapedlikegianthearts.
Tawdry.
That’showMaddydescribedtheplace.“Ittriedsohardtobesexy,butitwas,like,theworst,cheapestkindofsexy.Thehotelversionofcrotchlesspanties.”
Ithadn’talwaysbeenlikethis,Charlieknew.MaddyhadalsotoldheraboutthePoconosthatexistedacoupleofgenerationsbeforetheywereborn.Backthen,moviestarsoftenmotoredtheshortdistancefromNewYorkforafewdaysoffishing,hiking,andboating,rubbingelbowswithworking-classcouplesfromPhiladelphia,Scranton,Levittown.MaddyhadshownherapictureofhergrandmotherposingpoolsidewithBobHope.
“ShemetBingCrosby,too,”Maddysaid.“Nottogether,though.Nowthatwouldhavebeenthecat’smeow.”
Charliesighsandlooksoutthewindow,atthetreesskatingbyingrayblurs.
Likeghosts.
Itmakesherthinkofallthepeoplewho’vediedonthishighway.Peoplelikeherparents.Killedinexplosionsofglass.Torchedinfierywrecks.Crushedundertonsoftwistedmetal.Nowtheirspiritsarestuckhere,hauntingthesideoftheroad,foreverforcedtowatchothersdrivebytodestinationstheyfailedtoreach.
Shesighsagain,loudenoughforJoshtosay,“Yougettingcarsickagain?”
“No.I’mjust—”
Charlie’svoiceseizesup,thewordscloggedinherthroatlikeahardcandythat’sbeenswallowed.
ShenevertoldJoshshefeltcarsick.
Notforreal.
Thatwasduringamovieinhermind,onesheonlyhalf-remembersnowthatsheknowsitdidn’treallyhappen.Thestatetroopercomingupontheirright.Charlie’scovertbreathsfoggingthewindow.Herindexfingerslicingacrosstheglass.
Butifitdidn’treallyhappen—ifitwasallinherhead—howdoesJoshknowaboutit?
Charlie’smindstartswhirling,clickinglikeanoldmovieprojector.Itspinsoutathought.Onethatshouldhavearrivedmuchsooner.
“ComeasYouAre”hadjuststartedplayingbeforeshedroppedintothatlong,vividmentalmovieandwasstillplayingwhenshewokefromit.
Thatmakessense.Charliehadoncereadthatdreamsthatfeellikehourscanpassinmereminutes,andsheassumesthesameistrueformoviesinhermind.Thesongstarted,themovieunspooledinherthoughts,andwhenitwasover,“ComeasYouAre”wasstillplaying.
ButwhenCharliesnappedoutoftheallegedmovieinhermind,itwasstillthebeginningofthesongthatshehadheard.Thatdefinitelydoesn’tmakesense,especiallysinceJoshtoldhershe’dbeenzonedoutformorethanfiveminutes.
Thenthere’sthedistancetheytraveledduringthattime.Onthemapatthereststop,itwouldhavebeenaboutthewidthofherindexfinger,whichmeantitwasmileswhenblownuptofullscale.Farmoregroundthancanbecoveredduringthecourseofasinglesong,letaloneafewseconds.
Whichmeansthemusichadn’tbeencontinuous.
Joshhadindeedturnedoffthestereo.
Charliewatchedhimdoit.Ithadn’tallbeeninherhead,likeheledhertobelieve.Itwasreal.Ithappened
Andifthatwasreal,thenwhatimmediatelyfollowedmightalsobereal.IncludingTwentyQuestions.
Let’splay,Joshhadsaid.
Thosequestionsmightnothavebeenjustherthoughts.Theymightnothavebeenonlydialogueinhermind.
There’sachancethatshetrulyspokethem.Whichmeansthere’salsoachanceJoshansweredthemuntilshewinnoweditdowntoasingleobjectthatonthesurfaceissoinnocentbutturnsouttobeterrifyingwiththepropercontext.
Atooth.
“You’rejustwhat?”Joshsays,remindingCharliethatsheneverfinishedhersentence.
“Tired,”shesays.“Sotired.”
Thewordcloudsthewindow.Justatad.Inthatwispoffogontheglass,Charliecanmakeouttheedgeofwhatappearstobealetter.
Hereyesgowide.
Inshock.
Infear.
Herheartdoestheopposite.Itcontracts,shrinkingintoherchestthewayaturtleretreatsintoitsshell,tryingtoavoidthethreatitsensesiscoming.ButCharlieknowsit’stoolate.Thethreatisalreadyhere.
Sheconfirmsitbysayingthreemorewordsheavyonthesibilantsyllables.
“Justsoexhausted.”
Thefogonthewindowgrows.Anexpandinggraycircle.
Insideit,clearlyscrawledbyherunsteadyfinger,isasingleword.Writtenbackward.Readabletosomeoneontheoutsidelookingin.
HELPINT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charliestaresattheword,herrighteyetwitching,asifitnolongerwantstolookatit.It’sthetwitchthattellsherthisisn’tamovieinhermind.
Thatdoesn’tkeepherfromwishing,hoping,praying,beggingthatshe’swrong.Ifthere’sonesinglerighttimetohavewhatshe’sexperiencingnotbereal,nowisthatmoment.ButthesnowisstillsmackingthewindshieldandthewipersarestillmovingandJoshisstillbehindthewheelandthefogonthewindowisstillrecedingandthewordisstillclingingtotheglassandCharlieknowsthatallofitisreal.
It’salwaysbeenreal.
Joshliedtoher.Abouteverything.
Andshelethim.Hell,shehelpedhimdoit.Bydoubtingherownmind.Byappearingsoobviouslyfragile.Bymakinghimthinkhecoulddoandsayanythingandshe’dbelieveit.It’sliterallytheplotofamovie.
Gaslight
Eventhoughshe’sseenitseveraltimes,itstilldidn’tstopherfromcompletelyfallingforitinreallife.She’dbefuriousifshewasn’tsoscared.Butangertakesabackseattofear.Becausethere’sonlyonereasonCharliecanthinkofforwhyJoshwoulddosuchathing.
He’stheCampusKiller.
Notcouldbe.Notmaybe.
Hesimplyis.Charliehasnodoubtaboutthatnow.Hergut,whichsofartonighthasbeenabetterguidethanherbrain,tellsherhehastobe.Heknowsaboutthetooth,whichrightthereisenoughtoconvicthiminhermind.Thenthere’sthefactthathetoldherhe’slivednearOlyphantforthepastfouryears,whichishowlongtheCampusKiller’sbeenatlarge.
AngelaDunleavy.Fouryearsago.
TaylorMorrison.Twoandahalfyearsago.
MadelineForrester.Twomonthsago.
Stabbed.Killed.Apulledtooththeirkiller’strophy.
Charliehasnoillusionthathewon’ttrytodothesametoher.Hewill.It’sthereasonshe’shere.Thisisnogob-smackingcoincidence.ItwasintentionalonJosh’spart.Hesoughtherout.
Hemighttrytocomeforyounext.
Andsohehas.
EvenworseishowCharliemadeitsoeasyforhim.Allheneededtodowasshowupattherideboard,flashthatmovie-starsmile,andoffertodriveherawayfromherpainandguilt.Charliedidtherest.
Sheconsidersthepossibilitythatitwouldhavehappenedanyway.Thateventuallyshewouldhaveendedupinthisprecisesituationnomatterwhatshedid.Earliershethoughtthatshedeservedsuchascenario.Maybefateagreedandhadthisallplannedout.PaybackforfailingtosaveMaddy.
What’simportantnowisn’thowithappened,orwhy.It’sthatCharlieneedstofindawayoutofthesituation.Ifthereisawayout.Shesuspectsthisiswhatamousemustfeelasthetrapstartstosnapshut.Toolatetorun.Toolatetochangeyouractions.Fartoolatetoundoyourownundoing.Justagrimacceptancerightbeforethecrunch.
“You’requietagain,”Joshsays,actingallinnocent.Asifnothingiswrong.Asifhe’snotacompletemonster.“Yousureyou’renotgettingcarsick?”
Charliefeelssick,althoughit’snotfromthecar.Butshedoesn’tmindlettingJoshthinkthat.It’sbetterthanhimthinkingsheknowsallthehorriblethingshe’sdone.Thatshe’sterrifiedbythatknowledge.Thatithashersoscaredshe’sshockedshehasn’tpuked.
Yetawild,dangerouspartofherwantstotellhimsheknowswhoheisandwhathe’sdone.Clearly,Joshistoyingwithher.Thelies.Themusic.Theflirting.It’sallbecauseheenjoysplayingwithheremotions.Whynotcomecleannowanddenyhimthatsatisfaction?
Becausethenthere’llbenothinglefttodobutkillher.
Charliefears—withaquiveringdepthshedidn’tknowwaspossible—thatthereasonJoshluredherintohiscarandontothehighwayisbecauseitmakesiteasierforhim.Allheneedstodoisswerveontothesideoftheroad,slitherthroat,andshoveheroutofthecar.Hewouldn’tevenhavetoturnofftheengine.AndbythetimesomeonenoticedCharliebleedingtodeathontherumblestrip,Joshwouldbemilesaway.
Thescared,sensiblepartofherknowsit’sbestnottorevealanything.
Thesmartest,bravest,mostcarefulcourseofactionistopretendshedoesn’tknowathing.Maybehewon’ttrytoharmheruntilhe’scertainsheknowswhohereallyis.Maybehe’spatientandvowedtowaitaslongasittakes.MaybeCharliecanpretendlongenoughtogetaway.
Butwhere?
That’stheproblem.
There’snoplacetogetawayto.They’reinthemiddleofthePoconos,withnoothercarsinsight.TheGrandAmspeedsdownthecenterlaneofthehighway,goingseventyinspiteofthesnow.Charlieknowsshecan’tleapfromthecar,nomatterthatherhandisbackonthedoorhandleandherlegsarenowtwitchingasmuchashereyeandthatevenhershrunken,terrifiedheartseemstobeghertodoitwitheveryfranticbeat.
ShetellsherselfJoshcan’thurtherwhenthey’regoingthisfast.
Shetellsherselfthatshe’ssafeaslongasthecar’sinmotion.
ShetellsherselfthatwhentheGrandAmstartstoslow—anditwillatsomepoint;ithasto—she’llhopoutandrunlikesheshouldhavedonebackatthetollplaza.
“Didyouhearme?”Joshsays,insistent.“Iaskedifyou’resureyou’renotgettingcarsick.”
Charliesitscompletelystill.Sheshouldsaysomething.No,sheneedstosaysomething.Buthertonguesitsdeadinsidehermouth,useless.Afterafewmoresecondsofstruggle,she’sabletocroakoutaword.
“Yes.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
Shealmostsnortsoutabitterlaugh.Thefeelingismutual.ButthenJoshsays,“Let’sgetoffthehighway,”andthelaughwithersinthebackofCharlie’sthroat.
“Why?”shesays.
“Tolookforaplacetoeat.”
“I’mnothungry.”
“Iam,”Joshsays.“AndIthinksomefoodwilldoyougood.”
Charlieknowsit’sallaruseandthatit’stimefortheinevitable.Themomentthey’vebeenleadinguptosinceshefirstgotintothecar.
Anexitrampappears,andJoshslidesthecarintotherightlane.Charlietellsherselftostaycalm.
Don’tlethimknowsheknows.
Ifshecandothat,thenmaybeshe’llbeokay.
ButCharlie’snotsureshecandothat.NotwiththeGrandAmslidingofftheexitrampandontoaroadfardifferentfromtheinterstate.OncetheygetpastthecompetinggasstationsandashutteredBurgerKingclusteredneartheoff-ramp,itbecomesjusttwolanesofblacktopslicingthroughmountainwoods,darkasfarastheeyecansee.Theroadisdevoidofothercars.It’sjustthemandthewoodsandthedarknightandthesnowfalltricklingtoahalt.
Charlietenseswhensheseesastreetsignbearingthenameoftheroadforwhichtheytradedthehighway.
DeadRiverRoad.
Notthenameofaplaceanyonewouldwillinglygo.ItsoundstoCharlielikethenameofaplacepeopletrytoavoid.Aplacefrequentedonlybythelostorunsuspecting.
ButJoshdoesn’tseemlost.Heseemstoknowexactlywherethey’regoing,steeringthecarconfidentlythroughtheforest,thesweepoftheheadlightsbrighteningthetreesthathugthesideoftheroad.Charlieassumesthisisbecausehehasaspotalreadypickedout.He’sdonehisresearch.
Sheknowsnowisthetimetoactandsheshouldfinallymakealeapfromthecar.Butfear,thatheavy,unwieldything,keepsherpinnedinplace.
CharliewondersifMaddywasinthissamesituationtwomonthsago.Shehopesnot.ShehopesMaddyhadnoideawhatwasabouttohappentoher.Thatthelastmomentsofherlifewereasgrandandvivaciousasshewas.
“Weshouldturnaround,”Charliesays,hervoiceroboticbecauseshe’stryingtokeepherfearfrompeekingthrough.“There’snothinghere.”
“Thereis,”Joshsays.“Isawasignforaplacebackonthehighway.”
TheonlysignCharlieremembersseeingisthebillboardforthatnow-defunctlodge.
“It’slate,”shesays.“Theplaceisprobablyclosed.”
Joshremainsfocusedontheroad,drivingwithhisfingerstightaroundthewheelandhisforearmsrigid.“Itmightstillbeopen.”
Charliekeepsdisagreeing,becauseit’sallshecandoatthemoment,eventhoughit’sclearJoshisn’tgoingtolistentoher.
“It’ssolateandwe’vewastedsomuchtimeandIjustwanttogohome.”
Hervoicebreaksonthelastword.Abitofsadnessslicingthroughit.
Home.
NanaNormaisthererightnow,probablywaitingupforher.Charliepicturesheronthecouchinarobeandnightgown,nursingabourbon,hereyeglassesreflectingaBusbyBerkeleymusicalplayingontheTV.Thethoughtmakesherheartcrackjustlikehervoice.
Arrivingontheheelsofthatdesperateacheisanurgetofight.AsurprisetoCharlie,who’dspentsomuchofthisdrivethinkingonlyofflight.
Butfightingmightbeheronlychoice.
HurtJoshbeforehecanhurther.
Charlielooksdownatthebackpackatherfeet.Insidearethingsthatwouldnormallybefoundinapurse.Herwallet,sparechange,tissues,andchewinggum.GoneisthepeppersprayNanaNormahadgivenherwhensheleftforOlyphant.Charlielostthatmorethanayearagoandneverthoughttoreplaceit.Allthatleavesforself-defenseisherkeys,whichjingleatthebottomofthebackpackasCharliepicksitup.
Sheunzipsthebagandreachesinside,feelingforthekeys.Theyaren’tmuch.Certainlynotasgoodaspepperspray.Butifsheholdsthemwiththekeyspokingoutfrombetweenherfingers,FreddyKrueger–style,shemightbeabletofightoffanattackfromJosh.
NotthatJoshlooksremotelyclosetoattacking.Calmbehindthewheel,hepointstothehorizon,wheretheskyislightenedbyasoftelectricglow.Withinseconds,adinercomesintoview.OnesotraditionalCharliethinksitcouldbemistakenforpartofafilmset.
Chromesidingrunsbelowthediner’swidefrontwindows,beyondwhichareredboothsandbluetables.Asignhangsonthefrontdoor—red-on-blackletterstellingthemthat,yes,they’reopen.There’sanothersignontheroof.Neon.Itspellsoutthenameoftheplace.TheSkylineGrille.The“e”ontheendflickersslightly,likeevenitknowsit’sunnecessary.
“Toldyoutherewasaplaceopen,”JoshsaysashesteerstheGrandAmintotheparkinglot.“Youneedtotrustpeoplemore,Charlie.”
Charliegivesawarynod,knowingtheoppositeistrue.Trustiswhatgotherintothissituation.Aheapingdoseofsuspicionwouldhavehelpedheravoiditentirely.
AsJoshpullsintoaparkingspot,Charliesizesupthesituation.Itleavesherstumped.ForreasonsCharliecan’tbegintounderstand,Joshbroughthertoaplacewherehelpiswithinreach.
“Readytoeat?”hesays.“Idon’tknowaboutyou,butI’mstarving.”
Theygetoutofthecar,Joshafewfeetaheadofher.Astheycrosstheparkinglot,Charliecradlesherbackpackandponderswhattodonext.Itwouldmakesensetoendthingsimmediately.JustburstintothedinerandscreamthatJoshistryingtokillher,thathe’skilledbefore,thathe’llkeepdoingituntilsomeonestopshim.
Therearethreeothercarsintheparkinglot.AblackFordpickup,aboxycompactcar,andapowder-blueCadillacdeVillewithadentinthedriver’s-sidedoor.ShewondersifthedriverofatleastoneofthemiscapableofrestrainingJosh.He’sabigguy.Strong.It’lltakesomeoneequallyasbigandstrongtosubduehim,andCharliedoubtsthedriversofthecompactcarandtheCadillacareuptothetask.Thatleavesthepickupdriver.
Ifhebelievesher.
Charlieknowsfullwellthatburstingintothedinershoutingaboutserialkillerswilllikelymakepeoplethinkshe’sthetroublesomeone.They’llassumeshe’sdrunkorcrazyoracombinationofthetwo,justlikethewomaninthereststopbathroom.Charlieremembersthewaythatwomanlookedather.Soskeptical,sounwillingtohelp.There’snothingtosuggestthestaffandpatronsoftheSkylineGrillewon’tbethesameway.She’ssureshehasthesamedesperate,derangedlookshehadatthereststop.Thatmightmakeithardtoconvincesomeonetohelp.Peopledon’twanttobelievethatafellowhumanbeingiscapableofsuchviciouscruelty.Theywanttothinkeveryonetheymeetisjustlikethem.
Nice.
That’swhatCharliethoughtaboutJoshwhentheymetattherideboard.Hell,it’swhatshethoughtatthereststop,whenhecaughtasnowflakeonhistongueandshedecidedgettingintothecarwithhim—again—wasthewisestcourseofaction.
Shewaswrong.
Justlikeshecouldbewrongthatsomeoneinthedinerwon’tbelieveher.
Butifnoonedoes—iftheylookatherthesamewaythewomaninthereststopbathroomdid—thenallCharliewillhaveaccomplishedistippingoffJoshthatsheknowswhatkindofpersonheis.
Notnice.Eventhoughhe’sdoingsomethingnicerightnowbyholdingthediner’sfrontdooropenforher.
Asshewalkstowardthedoor,sheseesthatabetteroption—asmarter,braver,morecarefulone—sitsoutsidethediner,bythesideofthebuilding,afewfeetfromthefrontrightcorner.
Apayphone.Hopefullyinworkingorder.
Charliecanexcuseherself,comeoutside,andcallthepolice,who’llhavetobelieveher.That’stheirjob.Somecopwillbedispatchedtothediner,andCharliewillbeoutsidewaiting,readytotellthemeverythingsheknowsaboutJosh.Iftheystillthinkshe’slyingandJoshfoolsthemjustlikehefooledher,she’llmakeascene.Letthemthinkshe’sdrunkorcrazy.AjailcellandadrunkanddisorderlychargearefarbetterthanwhatJoshhasplanned.
She’smadeuphermind.
Payphoneitis.
AllsheneedstodonowisgetawayfromJoshlongenoughtouseit.
INT.DINER—NIGHT
Thedinerismostlyempty.Justawaitress,anunseencookintheback,andacoupleinaboothbythewindow.Thecouple—amanandwomanintheirlatetwenties—haveaboozywearinesstothem,whichwon’tbemuchhelptoher.
Neitherwillthewaitress,wholookstobewellpastsixty.She’sgothighhair,corallipstick,andage-spottedarmsthatpokelikesticksfromthesleevesofhermint-greenuniform.
“Sitanywhereyouwant,”shesaysassherearrangesthepiesinsideaglassdessertcasenearthedoor.“I’llbethereinajiff.”
Charliemakesamovetotheleftsideofthediner,wherethecouplesits,hopingtosnagtheboothnexttotheirs.Safetyinnumbers.Butthewomanchoosesthatmomenttoletoutadrunkencackle,sendingJoshtoacornerboothontheoppositeendofthediner,nexttoajukeboxpushedagainstthewall.Charliehasnochoicebuttojoinhim.
SheleaveshercoatonafterslidingintotheboothacrossfromJosh.Sinceshe’llbegoingrightbackoutsidetomakeaphonecall,sheseesnopointinremovingit.There’stheaddedbonusthat,likeabullfighter’scape,itsbrightredhasattractedtheattentionofothersinthediner.Normally,Charliehatesfeelingconspicuous,butnowsheappreciatestheattention.Ifalleyesareonher,thenJoshwillhavetobeonhisbestbehavior.
Thatmomentofsomethingworkinginherfavorlastsonlyafewseconds.Becauseassoonasshe’ssituated,Charlielooksoutthewindowandherheartsinksintoherstomach,whichsinkstothedinerfloor.
Thepayphoneisrightoutside.
Justontheothersideoftheglass.
InfullviewofJosh.
Inchesfromhim.
Charlietakesabreath,tryingtostaycalm.Maybesheshouldchangehermindandmakeasceneanyway.Shedoesanotherquicksizingupoftherestofthediner.Thecoupleintheoppositecornerisshruggingoncoatsandslippingongloves,clearlypreparingtoleave.Thewoman—thedrunkerofthetwo—getsherhaircaughtinherscarfandbarksoutanotherlaugh.
“Youokaytodrive,hon?”thewaitresssaysastheypassherontheirwayout.
“We’refine,”themansays.
“Suityourself,”thewaitresssays.Underherbreath,sheadds,“Butifyouwrapyourdamncararoundatree,don’tsayIdidn’twarnyou.”
Charliewatchesthewaitresswatchthecoupleclimbintothecompactcarparkedoutsideandpullaway.Sherespectsthewaythewomanislookingoutforothers.ThatflintyconcernmightbeneededifCharliedecidestoabandonthephonecallideaandstraight-upaskforhelp.
Thewaitressclosesthedessertcaseandflipsaswitch.ItlightsuplikeawindowdisplayatChristmas,thethreelevelsofpiesinsideslowlyrotating.Grabbingtwomenus,thewaitressthenmakesherwaytotheirtable.
Shelooksfamiliar,butinawayCharliecan’tplace.LikeacharacteractresssheseesonaTVshowandthenspendstherestofthenighttryingtothinkofwhatelseshe’sbeenin.Charlieassumesit’sbecauseshe’sawalking,talkingstereotypeofamoviewaitress,rightdowntothepenciltuckedbehindherear.
Still,shemakesnoteofhernametag.
Marge.
“WhatcanIgetyoukidstodrink?”shesayswithanoticeablesmoker’srasp.
JoshordersaCokeandacoffee.Charlieordersacupofhottea.
“Scalding-hot,please,”shesays,thinkingahead,picturingascenarioinwhichshehastothrowitinJosh’sfaceinordertomakeaquickescape.
Marge,clearlyapro,doesn’tneedtojotitdown.“HotasHades,”shesays.“Comingrightup.”
Sheleavesthemtoperusethemenu,whichisencasedinaplasticsleevethatremindsCharlieofthelicenseinJosh’swallet.Althoughshesuspectsit’sreallyJake’swallet.LiketheirgameofTwentyQuestions,shenolongerthinksitwasamovie-in-her-mindsituation.It’smorelikelythatJoshswitchedlicensesatsomepoint,probablyatthetollplazawhiletalkingtothetollcollector.He’ssmart.She’llgivehimthat.
Sheneedstobesmarter.
“Whatareyougoingtohave?”Joshsays.
Charliescansthemenu,herstomachroilingatthethoughtofeatinganything.ButsheneedstoordersomethingtokeepJoshfromgettingsuspicious.Shesettlesonaplateoffries,thinkingthatmaybeshecanmanagetoforceonedownifsheneedsto.
Margereturnswiththeirdrinks,settingacupinfrontofCharlie,thewaterinsideitstillunsettled,asifit’sjuststoppedboiling.It’sfollowedbyaLiptonteabag,alemonsliceinatinybowl,andtwoplasticcontainersofcreamer.
“Sugar’sbythecondiments,”shesays.“Andbecareful,hon.Don’tburnyourself.”
Charlieripsopentheteabaganddropsitintothewater.Thecup’ssoscorchingthateventhehandleishot.Shecurlsherfingersarounditanyway,theheatonherskintheonlythingpreventingherfromliftingthecupandtossingthecontentsatJosh.
Shepicturesit.Morefantasythanamovieinhermind.Theteaflying.Joshscreaming,thenrecoiling,thenfallingoutoftheboothasCharlieruns.ThefantasyendswhenMargecomesbackwithJosh’sdrinksandsays,“What’llitbe?”
“Justanorderoffries,please,”Charliesays.
Margegrabsthepenciltuckedbehindherearandpullsasmallorderpadfromherdeepapronpocket.“Gravyontheside?”
“Justplain.”
MargelookstoJosh.“Yourturn,handsome.”
“What’syourblue-platespecial?”heasks,stillstudyingthemenu.
“Salisburysteak,”Margesays.
Joshhandsherthemenu.“Soundsgood.”
“Surething,sugar,”Margesaysbeforedepartingwithawink.
Shedisappearsthroughaswingingdoorwithacircularwindowlocatedattherearofthediner.Throughthewindow,CharliecanseeMarge’shighhairbobbingasshegivestheirordertotheinvisiblecook.
It’sjustherandJoshnow,aloneagain.
“Thisplaceneedssomemusic,”Joshsaysasheslidesfromtheboothandwalkstothejukebox.It’soldandbulky,liketheoneinHappyDays.Joshdropsinacoupleofquartersandmakeshisselections.
FirstupisDonMcLean.
“AmericanPie.”
Whenhereturnstothebooth,Charlieknowsit’stimetomove.Shehadaplan.Sheneedstomakeithappen.Grabbingherbackpack,shegesturestothepayphoneoutsidethewindow.
“I’mgoingtocallmyboyfriendrealquick,”shesays.“Heaskedmetocheckinfromtheroad.Berightback.”
Sheslidesoutoftheboothandheadstothedoor,forcingherselftogoslowandnotappeartooeager.Joshiswatchingher.Sheknowsthat.He’sbeendoingitallnight.Watchingherevenwhenitlookslikehe’snot.It’showhe’sbeenabletopredicthereverymove.
Butthat’llbeendingverysoon.
Now,she’sabouttogetaway.
EXT.DINER—NIGHT
Charliecorrectsherselfassoonasshegetsoutside.
She’snotabouttogetaway.She’salreadygone.Outthedoorandwalkingtothepayphone.Allthat’slefttodoiscallthepolice,tellthemtohurry,andthenwaitoutsidethefewminutesittakesforthemtoarrive.
Charlieroundsthecornerofthedinerandstopsinfrontofthepayphone.Joshsitsjustontheothersideofthewindow,sippinghiscoffee,notevenlookingherway.
Good.
Sheliftsthereceiverfromitscradle,bringingthesteadyhumofadialtonetoherears.Thenshepauses,unsurewhattodonext.She’snevercalled911onapayphonebefore.Doessheneedtoinsertcoins?Doesshepress0fortheoperator?Ordoesshejustdial911andhopesomeonewillanswer?
Withthedialtonestillbuzzinginsistently,sheoptsforthelatter.
Shepresses9.
Shepresses1.
Shepresses1asecondtime,shootinganervousglanceatthewindow.
Theboothisempty.
Joshisnolongerthere.
Charlie’sheartstopsatthesametimethereceiverletsoutalightclick.A911dispatcheransweringhercall.ButtoCharlie,it’sthesoundoffeartakingherinitsgrip.
“Nine-one-one.What’syouremergency?”thedispatchersays.
Charliestayssilent.Partlybecauseshe’sterrifiedandpartlybecauseshesensessomeonenearby,hoveringbythecornerofthediner,startlinglyclose.
Josh.
CharlieslamsthephonebackinitscradleasJoshemergesfullyaroundthesideofthebuilding.
“Somethingwrong?”hesays.
Charliewillsherselftospeak.Shehasnochoice.Tryingwithallhermighttokeephertoneeven,shesays,“Idialedthewrongnumber.”
“Youdon’tknowyourboyfriend’snumber?”
“Myfingerslipped,”shesayswithasilly-meshrug.
“You’renotgoingtotryagain?”
Charlieliftsherbackpack.“I’malloutofchange.”
“Allowme.”Joshreachesintohispocketandpullsoutahandfulofcoins,whichheholdsouttoher.Charlietakesthem,eventhoughthefeelofJosh’sskinonherspromptsaninternalcringeshehopesdoesn’tmakeitspresenceknownontheoutside.
Staysmart.
Staybrave.
Staycareful.
“Thanks,”shesays,thecoinshotinherpalm.Sohottheyfeellikecoal,glowingorange.Sheresiststheurgetodropthemtotheground.
“Goonandcallhim.”Joshjerkshisheadtowardthephone.“Don’tmindme.Justhereforsomefreshair.”
CharliehastocallRobbienow.There’snootherchoice.Ifshedials911,Joshwillheareverywordshesaysandcouldeasilymakesureshe’snolongerherewhenthepolicearrive.Sheknowshowsmallsheis,howweak.ItwouldtakeJoshnoeffortatalltograbheranddragherbackintotheGrandAm.Or,worse,hecouldjuststabherrighthereintheparkinglot.Enditallwithafewquickjabsofaknife,yankatoothoutofhermouth,andbegone.
Charliedialsquickly,pressingthenumbersthroughmusclememory.BecauseofcoursesheknowsRobbie’snumberbyheart.Joshisrightaboutthat.Shecouldn’tmisdialifshetried.
Throughthereceiver,shehearsarecordedvoiceinstructhertoinsertseventy-fivecentsintothephone.Charliedoes,herfingerstremblingsohardit’sastruggletogetonequarterintothepayslot,letalonethree.Withthecoinsdeposited,eachonelandingdeepinsidethephonewithametallicclang,thephonebeginstoring.
Onering.
CharlielookstoJosh,who’sbackedawayafewfeet.Standingatthecornerofthediner,hehashishandsthrustdeepinhispockets.
Tworings.
Joshglancesherway,smiles,lookstothesky.
Threerings.
Joshbeginstowhistle.Alight,impatienttrill.HearingitremindsherofUncleCharlieinShadowofaDoubt.Hewhistled,too.AtunedifferentfromJosh’s,butjustasunnerving.
Robbieanswersonthefourthring,croakingoutagroggyhello.
“Hey,it’sme.”Charlieknowshervoicesoundsoff.Tremulous.Atadtooquiet.“Justcheckinginfromtheroad.”
“How’sthedrive?Smoothsailing,sweetheart?”
CharlieshootsaglanceatJosh.Eventhoughhedoesn’tappeartobelistening,sheknowsheis.Thewhistlinghasstopped.
“Actually,thingstookadetour.”
“Veryfunny,”Robbiesays.
“I’mserious,”Charliesays,soundingtheoppositeofserious.Becauseshehasto.BecausesheknowsthatJoshispayingattentiontoeveryword.“We’renolongeronthehighway.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”Robbiesays.“Whereareyou?What’sgoingon?”
“Ican’ttalklong.Justwantedtosayhi.”
“Charlie,Ineedyoutotellmewhat’shappening.”Robbiesoundspanickednow.Itstreaksthrougheveryword.“Justgivemeahint.”
“Oh,youknow,weweredrivingalong,gothungry,anddecidedtogetoffthehighway,”Charliesays,fakingasmileandhopingthat,likeRobbie,itcomesthroughinhervoice.Notforhissake.Andcertainlynotforhers.
It’sforJosh,who’sbacktostaringupatthesky,hishandsstillinhispockets.
“Where?”Robbiesays.“Canyoutellme?”
“ThePoconos.We’reatthecutestdiner.It’scalledtheSkylineGrille.”
ShehopesRobbie’swritingthisalldown.Oratleastcommittingittomemory.Andassoonasshehangsup,shehopeshecallsthepolice.
“Canyougetaway?”hesays.
“Notatthemoment.Ourfood’salmostready.”
“Shit.”Robbiepauses,helpless.“HowcanIhelp?Tellmewhattodo.”
Charliedoesn’tknowhowtorespond.She’salloutofcodewords.Theyhadn’ttakenitfurtherthanthisbecause,honestly,itwasallajoke.JustsomethingRobbiecameupwithtoeasethepainofherdeparture.Butnowherlifemightliterallydependonwhatshesaysnext.
“Youshouldwatchamovie,”shesays.“ShadowofaDoubt.”
ShehopesRobbiegetsthehint.He’sseenthemovie,ofcourse.Shemadehimwatchittheirfirstmonthofdatingsohe’dunderstandhowshegothername.Nowshehopesheunderstandsthatthefilm’splotiscomingtrue.Lifeimitatingartintheworstkindofway.
“Ishouldbehomeinaboutfourhours,”shesays,thistimecompletelyforJosh’sbenefit.Anot-so-subtlereminderthatherboyfriendexpectshertobehomebyacertainhourandwillbeworriedifsheisn’t.“I’llcallyouwhenIgetthere.”
“Charlie,wait—”
ShehangsupbeforeRobbiecansayanythingelse,unabletobearhearinghimsoundsofranticandhelpless.Shealsowantedtoavoidamaudlingoodbye.There’llbenolastwordsfromhertonight.Notifshecanhelpit.
“Youalldone?”Joshsays.
Charlienods.
“Good.It’scoldouthere.”Joshflashesherthatperfectsmile.“Don’twantyoutocatchyourdeath.”
INT.ROBBIE’SAPARTMENT—NIGHT
Robbiestillgripsthephone,eventhoughafullminutehaspassedsinceCharliehunguponhim.Arecentbirthdaygiftfromhisparents,it’soneofthosenew,expensivecordlessphoneshethoughtwerepointless.ButnowRobbieseesitspurpose.Itletshimpacethebedroomunhinderedbyatangledcord.
Andpacehedoes.
Backandforth.
Backandforth.
Hardenoughtoweardownthecarpetifhepacedlongenough,ifhedidnothing.Butheknowsthat’snotanoption.Hehastodosomething
Sohedials*69tocallbackthelastnumberthatcalledhim.
Hekeepspacingasthephonerings.
Backandforth.
Backandforth.
Fiveminutesago,he’dbeensoundasleep,lostinadreamhecannolongerremember.
Thenthephoneonhisnightstandrang,yankinghimlikeafishhookbacktothepresent.Hetookhissweettimeanswering,resentfulofthephoneforwakinghim,eventhoughheknewitwaslikelyCharliecheckinginlikeheaskedhertodo.Hewastemptedtoignoreitandjustletthephonekeepringing.BecauseCharliewasright.TheyweregoingfromNewJerseytoOhio.Asboringadriveasexistsinthiscountry.
Butthat’snottheonlyreasonRobbiewasslowtoanswer.Charliehadlefthim,afterall.Notofficially.ButRobbieknowsthat’swhat’shappening.Along,slow,painfuluncouplingasopposedtoacleanbreak.Andhespenttherestofthenightfeelingsadandself-pityingaboutthat.
SowhenthephonerangandheassumeditwasCharlie,apetty,woundedpartofhimdidn’twanttopickup.Hethoughtthatmaybeifheletthecallgounanswered,Charliemightthinkhewasn’thome.ThathewasoutatoneofOlyphant’smanyoff-campusbars,chattinguponeofthemanydrunkco-edsalltoowillingtogohomewithhim.Andthatifshethoughtthat,itwouldmakeherjealous.Andthatifshewasjealous,thenshemightalsostarttomisshim.Andthatifshemissedhimenough,thenmaybeshe’ddecidetocomebacktohim.
Robbieendedupanswering—asheknewhewould.
Charliewastoospecialtoignore.
Sohegrabbedthephoneandsaidhelloandpreparedhimselfforaquickcheck-inandmaybesomeawkwardsmalltalk.Hecertainlydidn’texpectwhatcamenext.Thatdirecodehehaddevisedasajoke.
Thingstookadetour.
Atfirst,hethoughtCharliewaskidding.Abitofmovie-basedhumortosignifyshestilllovedhimandwasstillthinkingabouthim.ButthenCharliesaid,“I’mserious,”andeverythingchanged.
Sonowhe’shere,pacing.
Backandforth.
Backandforth.
MeanwhilethephonekeepsringingandhekeepshopingthatCharliewillpickupandtellhimitwasalljustajoke,thateverythingisfine,thatit’ssmoothsailing,sweetheart.
Whenthefifthringgoesunanswered,Robbieendsthecall,stopspacing,decidesonanothercourseofaction.
Hedials411.Trusty,reliableinformation.Thistime,someoneanswers.RobbiegivesthemthenameofthedinerCharlietoldhimshewasat,saysit’ssomewhereinPennsylvania,andaskswhere,exactly,itmightbelocated.Theoperator,Godblessher,comesthroughinajiff.
MonroeCounty.PeakTownship.DeadRiverRoad.
“DoyoualsohavethephonenumberforthePeakTownshippolicedepartmenthandy?”Robbiesays.
Theoperatordoes.Sheconnectsthem.Tworingslaterhe’sonthephonewithalocaldispatcher.
“I’mworriedaboutmygirlfriend,”hesays.“Ithinkshe’sintrouble.”
“Whatkindoftrouble,sir?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Isshetherewithyou?”
“No,”Robbiesays.“She’sinthePoconos.Inyourtown.AtadinercalledtheSkylineGrille.”
“Shecontactedyoufromthere?”
“Yes.”
“Didshesayshewasindanger?”
“Notexplicitly,”Robbiesays.“Shehadtobevague.There’samanwithher.Ithinkhewaslisteningin.TheyweresupposedtobedrivingtoOhiotogetherandtheygotofftheinterstateandnowthey’reatadiner.”
Thedispatcher’svoice,socalmandefficientsecondsearlier,soursintoskepticism.“Sir,that’shardlyanemergency.”
“Itis,”Robbiesays.
CharlietoldhimtowatchShadowofaDoubt,whichheassumedwasanothercode.Themaincharacter’snamewasCharlie,forGod’ssake.AndsincethatCharliehadfiguredoutherunclewasakiller,RobbietookittomeanthathisCharlielearnedthesamethingaboutthemanshewasridingwith.
“Pleasebelieveme,”hesays.“Thisguyshe’swith,shedoesn’tknowhim.AndIthinkshe’safraidofhim.Ithinkshecouldbeinrealdanger.Couldyoupleasejustsendacopovertheretoseeifshe’sokay?”
“What’syourgirlfriend’sname?”thedispatchersays,hervoicesofteningagain.
“Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes,”Robbiesays.“It’salongstory.”
“Sir,thiswholecallhasbeenalongstory.”Thedispatchersighs.“I’lltrytosendanofficertheretocheckthingsout.”
Robbiehangsupwithoutthankingher,abitofrudenessthatheassumescanbeexcused,consideringthecircumstances.Besides,shemerelysaidshe’dtrytosendacoptothediner,whichmeansitmightnothappensoon.Oratall.AndCharliecouldbeindangerrightnow.
Hegetsdressed,throwingonaT-shirt,socks,andshoes,optingnottoswitchouthissweatpantsforjeans.Onhiswayoutthedoor,hegrabshiscoat,hiswallet,andhiscarskeys.
Heneedstodomorethanstayhere,pacingbackandforth,backandforth,hopingCharliewillcallhimagain.
Heneedstoact.
Andwithalotofmilesbetweenthetwoofthem,there’snotimetowaste.
INT.DINER—NIGHT
Thejukeboxisstillplayingwhentheyreturnindoors,althoughDonMcLean’snolongersayingbye,byetoMissAmericanPieandtheBeatlesareinsteadsayingheytoJude.AtJosh’soverlypoliteinsistence,Charlieentersfirst,marchinginsidefeelingbothdefeatedandfrightened.
Thatdidn’tgoatalllikesheplanned.Nowshehasnoideawhattodonext.Theonlyotheroption,shortofrunningoutofthedinerandhopingJoshdoesn’tcatchuptoher,istotellMarge.
Whichisn’tmuchofanoptionatall.
Marge,despiteaformidablecombooftip-garneringsassandgrandmotherlyconcern,isnomatchforJosh.He’dhurther,ifheneededto.Andthenhe’dhurtCharlie.Andthenitwouldbeover.
Asforthecook,Charliehasn’tevenseenhim.Unlesshe’saformerprofessionalwrestler,shedoubtshe’sgoingtobemuchhelp.
Shereturnstothetablebecause,fornow,it’sallshecando.She’lltuckherselfintothebooth,pretendtonotbeterrifiedoutofhermind,andtrytocomeupwithanewplan.Meanwhile,she’llcontinuetohopethatRobbiegotthehintandcalledthepoliceandthatinfiveminutesthisplacewillbeswarmingwithcops.
Outside,thepayphonebeginstoring.Charliehearsit,soundingtinnythroughthewindow’sglass.Joshhearsit,too,andgivesheraquestioninglook.
“Youexpectingacall?”
Thephoneringsasecondtime.
“No,”Charliesays.
Thirdring.
“Yousure?”Joshsays.“Maybeyoushouldgoanswerit.”
Fourthring.
Charliestaresatit,knowingit’sRobbieusing*69tocallherback.She’scertainbecauseit’sexactlywhatshewoulddoiftheirroleswerereversed.
Fifthring.
Joshstartstoslideoutofthebooth.“Fine.IguessI’lldoit.”
“No,”Charliesays,reachingacrossthetabletograbJosh’sforearm.It’sthick,themusclestaut.Sheassumestherestofhimisthesameway.Strong.Strongerthanher.Sheletsgo,herhandslitheringbackacrossthetableandintoherlap.
Outside,thephonehasgonesilent.
“Toolate,”Joshsays.“Wemissedhim.”
“Itwasn’tmyboyfriend,”Charliesays.
“Sure,”Joshsays,unconvinced.“Whateveryousay.”
Theysitinsilence,CharlieeyeingherscaldinghotcupofteawhileJoshalternatessipsofCokeandcoffee.Eventually,Margeemergesfromthebackofthedinerwiththeirfood.
“Soup’son,”shesayscheerily,placingtheirplatesinfrontofthem.“Eatupbeforeitgetscold.”
CharliestaresattheplateofFrenchfries,whichglistenwithgrease.Thesightofthemmakesherstomachdoasicklyflip.Acrossfromher,Joshtuckshisnapkinintohisshirtcollarlikehe’safarmeratapicnic.Hegrabshisutensils—aforkandasurprisinglysharpsteakknife—andlooksatthefoodonhisplate.Acircleofmeatsmotheredwithgravy,creamedcorn,andaclumpofgraystuffthatCharlieassumesissupposedtobemashedpotatoes.Joshlowerstheforkbutkeepstheknifeinhand.
“Something’sbeenbuggingme,”hesays.“Outside,whenyouwereonthephone,talkingtoyourfriend.”
“Boyfriend,”Charliesays,hopingthosethreeextralettersmakeadifference.Shethinkstheymight.Theymeanthere’ssomeoneouttherewhoseriouslycaresabouther.Someonewho’llbeangryifsomethingshouldhappentoher.
Joshnods.“Boyfriend.Right.Whenyouweretalkingtohim,wereyouusingsomesortofcode?”
CharliepicksupaFrenchfryandtakesanervousbite.Shewashesitdownwithstill-too-hottea.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“YouknowexactlywhatImean.‘Thingstookadetour’?Noonetalksthatway.Inthemovies,maybe,butnotinreallife.”
Charlieshouldhaveknownhowridiculousshesoundedonthephone.Becausehe’sright.NoonetalksthatwayandJoshsawrightthroughit,whichiswhyhenowstaresatheracrossthetable,asteakknifestillgrippedinhisfist.Heholdsitwiththebladeaimedherway,thelightglintingoffitstip,lettingherseehowsharpitis,howeasyitwouldbetosinkintoherflesh.
“Idon’tknowwhatyouwantmetosay,”shesays,whichisthetruth.She’snotsureifJoshwantsanexplanation,anapology,orsimplyareasontoshovethatknifeintoherheart.
“Youdon’tneedtosayanything.Ijustthinkitwouldbenicetoadmitit.”
“Admitwhat?”
Joshreachesacrossthetable,grabsoneofherfries,andpopsitintohismouth.“Thatyou’restillscaredofme.”
Charliescansthediner,hopingtoseeMargeorthecookorevenacoupleofotherpatronscomeinside.Butit’sstilljustherandJosh.
Andtheknife.
Thatsharp,glintingextensionofhishand.
Joshcatchesherlookingatitandsays,“Youshouldn’tbescared,iswhatI’mtryingtotellyou.I’mnotgoingtohurtyou,Charlie.We’refriends,right?Oratleastfriendly.”
Helowerstheknife,asiftoprovehisfriendliness.Itdoesn’tmakeCharliefeelanybetter.Nothingaboutthesituationhaschanged.They’restillalone,andJoshisstilltheCampusKiller.
“Listen,”hesays.“Ithinkit’sbestifwedon’tdothisanymore.Ithinkthatmaybe,onceI’mdoneeating,youshouldstayhere.”
Charliedoesalittleheadshake,thinkingshemisheardhim.“What?”
“Youshouldstayhere.Igetbackinthecar,driveoff,andyoufindanotherwaytogethome.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,seriously.”Joshleansbackinthebooth,hishandsupandpalmsopen,likeamagicianshowingtherearenomoretricksuphissleeve.“Imean,Idon’tlikethethoughtofjustditchingyouhere.Butyouclearlydon’ttrustme.AndwhileI’mhurtbythat,Ialsounderstandthatyou’vebeenthroughsomehardtimes.Yourfriendbeingkilledandallthat.Itwouldmakeanyonesuspicious.I’mhappytohavetakenyouthisfar.Nowit’stimeforustopartways.”
Charliesitsinuttersilence,notmoving,notevenblinking.
He’slying.
Shecan’thelpbutthinkthat.
Heisn’treallyofferingtosimplygoawayandleaveheralone,noquestionsasked.Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense,thereforeitmustbefalse.
Ontheflipside,shewondersifmaybehe’sbeingserious.That,throughsomesmallmiracleshe’llneverunderstand,Joshreallyislettinghergo.Maybehe’sdecidedshe’snotworththeriskortheeffort.Orthathe’sboredwithtoyingwithher.Orthathe’stakingpityonher.
“Soyou’relettingmego?Justlikethat?”
“LettingyougomakesitsoundlikeI’vebeenholdingyouhostage,”Joshsays.“That’sneverbeenthecase.Ididn’tforceyouintomycar.Yougotinallonyourown.”
Charliedoesn’tseeitthatway.Yes,sheeagerlyacceptedaridefromJosh,butonlybecauseshewasdesperatetogetawayandhetoldalltherightlies.Andhecontinuedtoliesoshe’dstayinthecarlongaftershesuspectedwhohewasandwhathe’ddone.SoeventhoughshewasfarfromforcedintohisGrandAm,shewasdefinitelydeceivedintoit.
Partofherthinksshe’sstillbeingdeceived.That,insteadofamovieinhermind,thisisJoshtoyingwithhersomemore.Gettingherhopesupandthenenjoyinghercrushedreactionwhenhesnatchesitallaway.
Apatchofheatformsonthebackofherneck.Anangryprickle.Itmatcheshermood.Havingbeengaslitallnight,she’snothingifnotprickly.Asforanger,Charliecanfeelitspreadingjustasquicklyasthewarmspotonherneck.
She’stiredofbeingliedto.
Tiredofbeingdeceived.
Tiredofbeingsofuckingsadallthetime.
Tiredoffeelingguiltyandconfusedandlivingalifesopatheticthatshehastomakeimaginarymoviesinherheadjusttobeabletocope.
Charlie’ssotiredthatshe’stemptedtotellJoshsheknowseverything.She’sstruckwithanoverwhelmingurgetoshatterthegood-guyfacadehe’screatedandwatchthepiecesfallaway,revealingthemonsterbehindthemask.Shealmostdoesit,too.Herjawunclenchesandhertongueloosens,readytounleashthetruth.
ButthenMargeappears,comingthroughtheswingingdoorwithapotofcoffee.“Letmetopthatoffforyou,handsome,”shesays,eventhoughJoshhasn’ttakenmorethanafewsips.
Shefillsthecuptothebrimandpullsback,herelbowmovingacrossthetable.Charliewatchesitsprogress,theelbowassharpandspindlyastheknifediscardednexttoJosh’splate.Itkeepsmoving,evenafterithitsCharlie’steacup.
Therestisasquickasitisinevitable.
Elbowmoving.
Teacupsliding.
BothnotstoppinguntilthecupisknockedoffthetableandtheteaspillsoverCharlie’sredcoat.
Charlieleapsfromherseat,drippingteathat,whilenolongerscalding,isstillhotenoughtostingthroughherwetclothes.Margebacksaway,aghast,oneage-spottedhandtohermouthwhiletheothercontinuestogripthecoffeepot.
“Aw,shit,”shesays.“I’msosorry,sweetheart.”
Charlieslidesoutofthebooth,pressinghernapkintothefrontofthecoat.
“It’sfine,”shesays,morerelievedthanangry.Marge’saccidentgivesherachancetogetup,togetawayfromJosh,toregroup.“Where’sthebathroom?”
Margepointstoasmallalcovenexttotheswingingdoor.“Rightthere,hon.”
Charliemakesabeelinetowardit,thenapkinstillpressedtohercoateventhoughit’snowsosoakedthatteasquishesbetweenherfingers.Insidethealcove,sheseestwodoors,onemarkedguysandtheother,disconcertingly,dolls.Shepushesthedooropenandrushesinside,notbotheringtotakeonelastlookatJosh.
Eventhoughthisistheperfecttimeforhimto,asheputit,partways,Charliehasafeelinghe’snotgoinganywhere.
Whenshereturnsfromthebathroom,he’llstillbewaitingforher.
INT.DINER—NIGHT
Margesworeshewasn’tgoingtointervene,eventhoughshesensedtroublethemomenttheyenteredthediner.Itwasclearfromtheirbodylanguagethatsomethingwasn’trightwiththetwoofthem.Thegirlintheredcoatlookedscaredandthemanshewaswithlookedsurly.NeveragoodcomboinMarge’sexperience.
Yetsheheldhertongue,whichhasgottenherintroublemoreoftenthannot.Sheonlyspeaksupwhenshe’strulyconcerned,likewhenthatothercoupleleftstillthreesheetstothewind.Theydidn’tlistentoher—peopletheirageneverdo—butshehadtosaysomething,evenifitwasjusttokeepherconscienceclean.Sheofferedadvice.Theyignoredher.Whateverhappensafterthatisn’therconcern.
Andthesetwowerenoneofherbusiness.TheylookedtoMargelikeacouplethatjusthadafightinthecarandneededtostopsomewheretodecompress.Sheseesitallthetime.
Concerndidn’ttrulysetinuntilshetookthesurly-lookingman’sorder.
“What’syourblue-platespecial?”
Margewaswatchingthegirlwhenhesaidit,thinkingabouthowshelookedlikeahostageandhowmuchthatfactworriedher.Thenthegirlwenttothepayphoneandhefollowedherout,likesomekindofstalker,afraidthathispreywasgoingtorunaway.Yetanotherreasonforconcern.
Afterthat,Margeknewsheabsolutelyhadtodosomething,eventhoughsheknewsheshouldn’t.Shecouldn’thelpherself.Standingbackanddoingnothingjustisn’tinhernature.
Soshegrabbedafreshpotofcoffee,flexingherelbowintheprocess.Theywerepointy,herelbows.Margeknewitbecauseshe’dbeentoldsoherentiremarriage.Howard,blesshisdearlydepartedheart,alwayscomplainedthatsheelbowedhiminhersleep.“Damn,Marge,”heusedtosay,“doyouuseapencilsharpeneronthosethingsbeforeyougotobed?”
Shecanonlyimaginewhathe’dsaynowthatthecancerhaswhittledherdowntonothingbutskinandbones.
Potinhand,Margewentbacktothatcornerboothandputoneofthosepointyelbowstouse.Shehatedtodoit,knockingoverthecupoftealikethat.Especiallyonthatprettyredcoat.ButthewayMargeseesit,shedidn’thaveachoice.Sheneededtogetthegirlalone.Andsoshedid.
NowthegirlisinthebathroomandMargeisgrabbingacleanwashclothfromthekitchen,whichisstackedwithdirtyplatesbecauseshetoldthehighschoolboywhousuallywashesthedishesnottocomein.It’saTuesdaynightinNovember.There’snocrowdbeatingdownthedoor.Whichisagoodthing,Margethinksasshegrabsabottleofclubsodafromtheminifridgeunderthefountaindrinks.
Itmeansshewon’tbebotheredbyothercustomers.
Sheandthegirlintheredcoatwillhaveplentyoftimeforalongtalk.
INT.DINERBATHROOM—NIGHT
Thebathroomissmallandwindowless.AprisoncellwithpinkwallsthatmakeCharliethinkofPeptoBismol.There’sasinglestall,alsopink,andasinkthat’swhitebutstainedwithrustaroundthedrain.Onthewallnexttothesoapdispenserisasign.
EMPLOYEESMUSTWASHHANDS.
CharlieyanksoffhercoatandholdsituptoexaminethedamageinthewanlightcomingfromaUFO-shapedfixtureintheceiling.
Thestainisbothbigandnoticeable.AdarksplotchroughlythesameshapeasthestateofTexas.TearsburninCharlie’seyesassheseeshowdeeplytheteahasseepedintothefabric.Andeventhoughsheseestheironythatthis,ofallthings,iswhat’sgoingtomakeherloseittonight,shealsounderstandswhy.
Thiscoat,sonotherstyleinanyway,istheonlyreminderofMaddyshehasleft.Nowit’s,ifnotcompletelyruined,atleastdamaged.Shecanwearitagain—andthere’snodoubtshewill—butitwillbejustlikehermemoriesofMaddy
Irrevocablymarred.
There’saknockonthebathroomdoor,followedquicklybythesmoke-scarredvoiceofMargethewaitress.
“Youokayinthere,hon?”
“I’mfine,”Charliesays,notknowingwhy,becauseno,everythingisn’tfine.Everythingisaboutasfarfromfineasitcanget.
“Ibroughtyouawashclothandsomeclubsoda,”Margesays.“Incaseyouneedit.”
Charlieopensthebathroomdoor,andMargeslinksinwithanapologeticlookonherface.ShetakesthecoatfromCharlie,goestothesink,and,tut-tuttingatherownhandiwork,poursclubsodaoverthestainandstartstodab.
“Ifeelawful,”shesays.“Justawful.Givemeyouraddressbeforeyougo.I’llmailyouacheckandyoucanbuyyourselfanicenewcoat.”
Charliedoesn’thavethehearttotellMargethatthecoatisalmostasoldassheisandthereforecan’tbeeasilyreplaced.Nordoesshetellthewaitressthatshedoesn’tevenparticularlylikethecoat,thatsheonlywearsitbecauseitremindsherofMaddy.
“That’sverykindofyoutooffer,”shesays.“Butit’snotnecessary.Accidentshappen.”
“Notonmywatch.BeendoingthisfordecadesandIcancountononehandthenumberoftimesIspilledsomethingonacustomer.Suchaprettycoat,too.”Margeflipsitopenandchecksthelabel.“PierreBalmain.Fancy.”
“Itwasgiventomebyafriend,”Charliesays.
“That’ssomegenerousfriend.”
“Shewas,”Charliesays.“Ijustdidn’tappreciateitenoughatthetime.”
Charliewillsherselfnottocry.Nothere.Notinacrappydinerbathroominfrontofastranger.Butshecan’tstopthinkingabouthowmuchMaddywouldhavelovedthisplace.Sounironicallyretro.ShewouldhavegabbedwithMargeandplayedPeggyLeeonthejukeboxandlaughedlikemadwhenshesawthedollssignontheladies’roomdoor.ImaginingherselfherewithMaddyinsteadofwithJoshmakesthetearspoolinginCharlie’seyeskeepcoming.Whenoneescapesdownhercheek,shequicklywipesitaway.
Atthesink,Margedribblessomemoreseltzeronthecoatandresumesdabbingatit.“What’syourname,sweetie?”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie?”Margesays,noteventryingtohidehersurprise.“I’vemetalotofCharliesinmyday,butnoneofthemlookedlikeyou.Familyname?”
“Kindof,”Charliesays.
“That’snice.Family’simportant.It’severything,ifyouaskme.”
Margepauses,seeminglyreluctanttosaywhatelseisonhermind,whichCharlieassumestobeafirst.Thewaitressdoesn’tstrikeherassomeonewhoholdsbackorminceswords.
“Listen,Charlie,IknowIshouldmindmyowndamnbusiness,butiseverythingokay?Isawyououttherewithyourfriend,andyouseemed,well,alittledistressed.”
“Little”istheonlypartofthesentencethatsurprisesCharlie.She’salotdistressed,especiallyinhercurrentstateofbeingperchedontherazor’sedgebetweenfearandanger.That’sanothersurprise—howmadshegotatthetable.Itwasanewfeelingforher.SinceMaddydied,she’donlybeenmadatherself.
ButJoshhascertainlyearnedherire,eventhoughshe’salsoscaredshitlessinhispresence,terrifiedbywhathe’sdoneandwhathestillmightdo.Charlieneverknewonecouldbebothfuriousandfrightenedatthesametime.Nowshedoes,andtheresultiswhatMargesawbackatthetable.
Distress.
“LikeIsaid,it’snoneofmybusiness,butishe—”Margepauses,tryingtobedelicate.“Ishetreatingyouokay?”
Charlieknowsshecould—andshould—tellheraboutJosh.Margewouldbelieveher.Watchingthewaitressfuriouslydabathercoat,worrywrinklesjoiningherregularones,Charliebeginstodoubtthespillatthetablewasanaccident.Margeisapro,andthatwasarookiemistake.It’smorelikelyshesawCharlielookingdistressed,gotworriedforher,anddevisedawaytogetthemalone.Nowthattheyare,allCharlieneedstodoistellherwhat’sgoingon,asktousethediner’sphone,andcallthepolicewithoutJosheverknowingathing.Thenthislong,horriblenightwillbeover.
Butitmightalreadybeover.ItalldependsonifJoshisseriousaboutleavingherbehind.Charliedoubtsheis.Joshhasbeendishonestallnight.Whystopnow?Eitherway,itdoesn’tmeansheshouldgetMargeinvolved.Doingsomightmakethingsworse.IfJoshisn’tplanningonleavingherbehindanddoesgetwindthatCharlietoldMargeabouthersuspicions,itcouldputbothofthemindanger.
Charliedoesn’twantthat.Margeisagoodperson.Aniceperson.Andnicepeopleshouldn’tbemixedupinwhatshe’sgoingthrough.
“I’mjusttired,”shesays.“It’sbeenalongdrive.”
“Iunderstand,”Margesays.“Especiallythistimeofnight.AllI’msayingis,you’rewelcometostayhereawhile.Ifyoudon’tfeelsafewithhim.”
“I’mfine,”Charliesays.“Really.”
Margegivesthecoattwomoredabsbeforestudyingtheresult.“Well,I’llbedamned.Looksliketheclubsodaworked.”
Sheholdsupthecoat,revealingonlyawetpatchwheretheteastainhadbeen.HandingitbacktoCharlie,shesays,“Giveitalittlewhiletodryanditshouldlooklikenew.”
Charlieexaminesthewetspot.Thewoolthereisnowpilledslightlyandspeckedwithbitsoflintfromthewashcloth,butshe’sokaywiththat.Maddywouldhavesaiditaddedcharacter.
Margepausesbythedoor.“Ididn’tmeantomakeyouuncomfortablewithallthosequestions.”
“Iknow.Andyoudidn’t.Everything’sfine.”
“Iwasjustlookingoutforyou,”Margesays.“Womenneedtodothat,youknow.Lookoutforeachother.There’saspecialplaceinhellforthosewhodon’t.”
“Iappreciateit,”Charliesays.“Ireallydo.ButI’mdoinggreat.Thankyouforcleaningmycoat.”
Margenodsandslipsoutofthebathroom.“Anytime,sweetie.”
Leftalone,Charlieslipsintothecoatandstaresatherreflectioninthebathroommirror,shockedbyhowpaleshelooks.LikeGretaGarbo.That’sanotheroneofNanaNorma’ssayings.You’reaspaleasGarbo.
Inthiscase,it’strue,althoughitlookedgoodonanicybeautylikeGretaGarbo.Charliejustlookssickly,asifshe’sgoingtopassout.Sheassumesthat’sbecausesheis.Herlegsareweakandwobbly,andhervisioncomesinandoutoffocus,thankstothetears.Charliewouldn’tbesurprisedif,atanysecond,shecrumpledtothefloor.Consideringthenightshe’shaving,whocouldblameher?
Staringattheghostofwhoshehadoncebeen,CharlieassuresherselfshedidtherightthingbynottellingMargethetruthaboutJosh.It’sbetterthisway.Nowonlyoneofthemisindanger.
Shealsoknowsit’salie.Justlikethinkingthatnoonewillbelieveherifshetriedtogethelp.OrthatJoshwillcharmandfibhiswayoutofit.Orthathehasnointentionofleavingwithouther,despiteflat-outstatinghedoes.
They’realllies.
OnesdifferentfromwhatJoshhasbeenfeedingherallnight,butliesnonetheless.Meagerexcusestohidethetruth:thatpartofherdoesn’twanttogetawayfromJosh.
Notjustyet.
Charliehadlefthomewithonlyavagueunderstandingaboutallthedangersyoungwomenface.Youngstownwasn’tMayberry.Badthingshappenedthereallthetime.Daterapeandabuseandahundredtinythreatsdirectedatwomen.ButCharliehadn’tgiventhemmuchthought.Notevenafterherhighschoolhealthteacherdidalessononsexualassault.OronthedaysheleftforOlyphantandNanaNormagaveherthattinypinkbottleofpepperspray.Orduringtheself-defenseclasseveryfemaleOlyphantstudenthadtotaketheweekoforientation.
IttookMaddybeingkilledforhertounderstandthebrutaltruththattherearemenouttherewhowon’thesitatetohurtwomen.
MenlikeJosh.
AfterMaddy’smurder,Charliehadassumedtherewasnothingshecoulddoaboutit.ShelovedMaddyandMaddylovedherandtheywouldhavebeenfriendsforever,nomatterwhatRobbiethought.Butthenshewasgoneandallthatremainedwasaburningrage.SoCharlieinternalizeditandblamedherself.
ForleavingMaddybehind.
Fortellinghertofuckoffasshedeparted.
FornotbeingabletoidentifyJoshaftershesawhimoutsidethebar.
Sheblamedherselfandhatedherselfandpunishedherselfbecausethat’swhatwomenaretaughttodo.Blamethemselves.Blamethevictims.TellthemselvesthatsincetheAngelaDunleavysandTaylorMorrisonsandMadelineForrestersoftheworldhadsatthroughthesamelessonsonassault,receivedthesametinybottlesofpepperspray,andenduredthesameself-defenseclasses,itmusthavebeentheirfaulttheywereattacked.Orraped.Orkilled.
Noonetellswomenthatnoneofitistheirfault.Thattheblamefallssquarelyontheawfulmenwhodoterriblethingsandthefucked-upsocietythatraisesthem,moldsthem,makesexcusesforthem.Peopledon’twanttoadmitthattherearemonstersintheirmidst,sothemonsterscontinuetoroamfreeandthecycleofviolenceandblamecontinues.
AthoughtpopsintoCharlie’sbrain,sosuddenandjoltingshecanactuallyhearit.Alightclickatthebackofherheadashersynapsesexplodelikefireworks.
IfJoshleaves,she’llbesafe.Butnothingwillstophimfromhurtingsomeoneelse.SomeonelikeMaddy.Theworldisfullofthem.AndnoneofthemaresafewhileJoshroamsfree.
Margewasright.Thereisaspecialplaceinhellforwomenwhodon’thelpotherwomen.Charlieknowsitwell,havingspentthepasttwomonthsdwellingthere.Nowit’stimetogetthefuckout.
SomethinginCharlie’schestbeginstoharden.
Herheart.
ShatteredafterMaddydied,it’snowbeingputbacktogether,itsjaggedpiecesfittingintoplace,boundtogetherbyanger.
Anotherlookinthemirrorconfirmsit.Sheischanging.Herfacehasgainedsomecolor.Apinkflush—brighterthanthebathroomwalls—spreadsacrosshercheeks,herforehead,thebridgeofhernose.
Likeherheart,hereyeshavealsohardened.Whereonceshehadseenonlydespair,Charlienowseesaflickeroffire.
Shefeelsbold.
Fearless.
Dangerous.
WrappedinMaddy’sredcoat,shefeelsalmostpossessedbyallthetoughwomenshe’sadmiredinmovies.StanwyckinDoubleIndemnity.HayworthinTheLadyfromShanghai.Crawfordin,well,everything.Thekindofwomenmendon’tknowiftheywanttokissorkill.Womenwhoclawandscrapethroughlifebecausetheyhaveto.
Nowit’sCharlie’sturn.
She’snolongerthescared,self-loathinggirlshewaswhensheleftcampus.She’ssomethingelse.
Afuckingfemmefatale.
She’sgoingtoleavethisbathroom,thenthediner,andgetbackintothecarwithJosh.
Shedoesn’tknowhowanddoesn’tknowwhen,butshe’sgoingtomakehimpayforwhathe’sdone.
Andsheintendstoenjoyit.
“Charlie?”
INT.DINERBATHROOM—NIGHT
Charlieshuddersbacktothepresentatthesoundofhername.It’sMarge,whopunctuatesitwitharaponthedoor.
“Everythingstillokayinthere?”
“Yes,I’mfine,”Charliesays.“Justfresheningup.”
Shechecksherreflectioninthemirror.She’sstillthepale,fragilewraithshewaswhenshewalkedin.Allthetoughpersonassheworeinthemovieinhermindhavepeeledofflikesnakeskin.TheonlysimilaritybetweenthatCharlieandtheonesheseesbeforehernowistheunderstandingthatshecan’tletJoshleave.
Notalone.
She’snotsureifsheactuallythoughtthatorifitwaspartofthementalmovie.Sheassumesitdoesn’treallymatter,seeinghowitcamefromherbraineitherway.Arealizationisstillarealization,evenifitsdeliveryisunorthodox.
AndtherealizationconsumingCharlieisthatJoshneedstobestopped.Andshe’stheonewhomustdoit.Shecan’trelyonthehopefulnotionthatRobbiecalledthepoliceandthatanysecondnowacopwillshowupandarrestJosh.
NorcansheenlistkindheartedMargeforhelp.Thewaitressmightbequickwithacupofscalding-hottea,butthatmeansnothingwhenJoshhasaknifewithinreach.
Earlier,CharliehadtoyedwiththeideathatfateiswhatledherintoJosh’scar.Sheassumeditwaspunishmentforhowshe’dtreatedMaddy.ButnowCharliesuspectsthatiffatedidhaveahandincreatingthesituation,it’sforanentirelydifferentpurpose.
Notpunishment.
Redemption.
Rightnow,Charliehasachancetoclearherconscience.Theguiltthat’sconsumedherfortwomonthscouldbegoneinaninstant.Herslatethoroughlywipedclean.AllsheneedstodoismakesureJoshdoesn’trideoffalone.
Sheowesittoherself.
AndtoMaddy.
AndtoMaddy’sfamily.AndtotheotherwomenJoshhaskilled.Andtothosehemightkillinthefutureifsheletshimgetaway.
Butshe’snotgoingtoletthathappen.
She’sgoingtoleavethisbathroom,thenthediner,andgetbackintothecarwithJosh.
It’snotsmart.It’snotcareful.It’sprobablynotevenbrave.Rightnow,itdoesn’treallymatter.It’swhatCharliefeelsshemustdo.Andatthispoint,shehasnothinglefttolose.
Shetakesonelastlookinthemirror,hopingtoseethathereyeshavehardenedjustliketheydidinthemovieinhermind.Onthecontrary,they’remoistandredattheedges.Nohardnessthere.Herwholebody,infact,feelssoftandvulnerable.Butthatdoesn’tkeepCharliefromflingingopenthebathroomdoorandsteppingbackoutintothemainpartofthediner.
Joshisstillatthetable.Heleansoverhiscoffeecup,staringintoit,waitingforherreturnasthejukeboxplaysthelastnotesofaRollingStonessong.
“SympathyfortheDevil.”
Ironic,seeinghowadevilcurrentlyoccupiesthecornerbooth.Andhe’sanythingbutsympathetic.
Charliepausesatthejukeboxandflipsthroughtheselections.Classicrock,mostly,butafewcurrentsongsbyBryanAdams,MariahCarey,and,toJoshatleast,thetwinscourgesofAmyGrantandPaulaAbdul.Charlieconsidersplayingthetwoofthembacktoback,justtoirritatehim.Adifferentideaformswhensheseesanothersong.Onesheabsolutelyhastoplay.
ShedropsoneofthequartersJoshgaveherforthepayphoneintothejukeboxandenterstherecordnumber.Asecondlater,musicfillsthediner.
Aguitarriffshe’sheardtwicebeforethatnight.
“ComeasYouAre.”
Joshliftshisheadwhenhehearsit.Slowly.Likeamovievillainwhoknowshe’sjustbeenfoundout.RaymondBurrinRearWindowwhenherealizeshe’scaughtinJimmyStewart’stelephotolens.
Heturnshisheadalittlebit,listening,makingsurehisearsaren’tdeceivinghim.
“Greatsong,isn’tit?”Charliesaysassheslidesbackintothebooth.“Doyouwanttowaituntilit’sover?Orshouldweleavenow?”
“We?”
Charlieswallows,knowingshe’sabouttocrosssomeinvisiblethresholdthatmightforeverchangethecourseofherlife.Itmightevenendupgettingherkilled.Butthere’snoavoidingit.
Shecan’twaitforotherstostopJosh.
Sheneedstodoitherself.
Eventhoughshehasnoideahow.
“Yeah,”shesays.“AsinyouandmegettingintoyourcaranddrivingtoOhiolikeyouagreedtodo.”
“That’snothappening,”Joshsays.“AndIalreadyexplainedwhy,Charlie.”
“AndI’mexplainingthatyou’renotgoingtogetridofmesoeasily.”Charlie’sbodyhumswithfearasshetalks.She’sdoingthis.She’sactuallygoingaheadwithit.“Here’sthewayIseeit.Thesituationhasn’tchanged.Ineedtogethome.Youcangetmethere.Now,wecanstopwastingtimeandleaveorwecanwaituntilthepolicegethere.”
“Whatpolice?”
“TheonesthatmyboyfriendcalledafterIusedthatcodeyouweresosmarttopickupon,”Charliesays,eventhoughshehasnoclueifRobbiedidanysuchthing.Sheassumesthatifhehad,acopwouldhaveshownupbynow.
Joshgoesquiet,nodoubtreplayingtheconversationatthepayphoneinhishead.Charlieknowshewaslistening.It’swhyshechoseherwordssocarefully.NowJoshiswonderingwhat,exactly,thosewordscouldhavemeant.
“You’rebluffing,”hesays.“Besides,whywouldIneedtobeworriedaboutthepolice?”
“Youtellme,Jake.”
Forthefirsttimesincetheymet,Joshlooksworried.Hetriestohideitbytakingaswallowofcoffeeandleaningbackinthebooth,hisarmscrossed,butCharlieknowshe’sconcerned.Shecanseeitinhiseyes.
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesays.“You’reconfused,Charlie.Andkindofsad.”
Charlieshrugs.She’sbeencalledworse.
“Thenwe’llwait.”
Theystaythatway,staringeachotherdown,untilthesongends.Onlythen,whenthedinerisplungedintosilence,doesJoshdecidethatmaybeCharlie’stougherthanshelooksandthatmaybe—justmaybe—she’snotbluffing.HewavestoMarge,who’sbeenwatchingthemfrombehindthecounter.
“Couldwegetthecheck,please?”
“Surething,”Margesays,seemingsurprised,probablybecausetheybarelytouchedtheirfood.Charliefeelsbadaboutthat.Allthatworkfornothing.Margebringsthecheckandplacesitonthetable.ToCharlie,shesays,“Itookyourorderoffthebill.AfterwhatIdidtoyourcoat,it’stheleastIcando.”
“You’vedonesomuchalready,”Charliesays,meaningeveryword.WithoutMarge,shemightnothaverealizedwhatsheneededtodo.Asfarasshe’sconcerned,thewaitresshelpedherrealizethissituationcouldbemoreblessingthancurse.
“Itwasnothing,”Margesays,lockingeyeswithCharlie.“IhelpwhenIcan.”
Ontheothersideofthetable,Joshreadsthecheckandpullsouthiswallet.Watchinghimcountoutbills,Charliesays,“Besuretoleaveabigtip.”
Joshslapstwentydollarsontothetable.Satisfiedthatthetipisindeedbig,Charliesays,“Shallwego?”
Joshdoesn’tmove.He’spreoccupied—lookingpasther,overhershoulder,outthefrontwindow.Charlieswivelsintheboothuntilsheseeswhathe’slookingat.
Acopcar.
Local.
Pullinguptoastopinfrontofthediner.
Charliecan’tbelievehereyes.Turnsoutshewasn’tbluffing,eventhoughshecertainlythoughtshewas.ButRobbieunderstoodhermessageloudandclearandhadindeedcalledthepolice,afactthatleavesherfeelingproudandrelievedandgrateful.
JoshwavestoMarge,who’snowbehindthecounter,dutifullycleaningtheFormicaeventhoughnoone’sprobablysatthereforhours.
“You’reworkingtoohard,Marge,”hesays,pattingthespacenexttohim.“Joinus.Takealoadoff.”
“Idon’tthinkthebosswouldlikethatverymuch,”shesays.
“Ishehere?”
“No.”
“Thenyou’retheboss.”
Charlie’sattentionissplitbetweenthecopcaroutsideandthewaitresstitteringbehindthecounter.Herheadmovesbackandforth,likeshe’satatennismatch,tryingtotakeitallin.
Thecopgettingoutofhispatrolcar.
ThenMargedroppingherragonthecounter.
Thenthecopamblingtowardthefrontdoor,innohurryatall.
ThenMargecomingtotheirtable,takingaseatnexttoJosh,andsaying,“Isupposeitwon’thurttogetoffmyfeetforasecond.”
Bythetimethecopentersthediner,Charlie’shitwithathirddistraction.
Thesteakknife.
It’snolongeronthetable.
Joshholdsitagain,grippingitthewayamoviethugwieldsaswitchblade,thetipvaguelyaimedinMarge’sdirection.
Charlie’sgazehopscotchesaroundthediner,goingfromtheknifetoMargetothecopnowstandingatthecounter.He’stallandlankyandyoung.Facelikeachoirboy.
“Evening,Tom,”Margesays.“Didn’tthinkyou’dbecomingintonight.IthoughtyouhitthepizzaplaceonTuesdays.”
Atfirst,CharliewondersifthecopcanseethesteakknifeinJosh’shandandhowinthepastfewsecondsitseemstohavemovedalittlecloserinMarge’sdirection.It’snotuntilshefollowsthecop’sgazefromthecountertotheirtablethatsherealizeseverythingbelowJosh’sshouldersisblockedbythebackofthebooth.
“I’mhereonbusiness,”OfficerTomsays,lookingnotatMargebuttoJoshseatedbesideher.“Wegotacallaboutapossiblydangeroussituation.”
“Here?”Margesays,incredulous.“Nothinghappeninghere.Slownightasusual.”
“We’rejustpassingthrough,Officer,”Joshadds.
OfficerTomturnstoCharlie.“Isthattrue,miss?”
“Me?”
Charlieturnsherheadinawaythatletsherseeboththecopand,intheedgeofhervision,theknifeinJosh’shand,whichseemstohavegottenevenclosertoMarge.Thenagain,itmightjustbeCharlie’simagination.It’ssteeredherwrongbefore.
“Yes,”shesays.“That’sthetruth.”
CharlieeyestheholsteronOfficerTom’shipandthepolice-issuedpistolstrappedinsideofit.Shewondershowmuchexperienceacopsoyounghashad.Ifhe’severhadtofaceamanwithaknife.Ordefuseahostagesituation.Orshootsomeoneinthelineofduty.
Shegivesthesceneanotherall-encompassingglance,skippingfromOfficerTom’sguntoJosh’sknifetoMargeandthenbacktothecop,tryingtogaugethedistancebetweenallofthem.
ShewondersifsheshouldyelltoOfficerTomthatJoshisakiller.
Shewondersifhe’dbeabletodrawhisweaponbeforeJoshjammedthesteakknifeintoMarge’sstomach.
ShewondersifOfficerTomwouldthenopenfireonJosh.
Charliepicturestheimmediateaftermath.Hercoweringinthebooth,herhandsoverherearsasJoshliesdeadonthetableandMargebleedsonthefloorandsmokestilltricklesfromthebarrelofOfficerTom’sgun.
Shewondersifthis,rightnow,isalljustamovieinhermind.Itdoesn’tmatterthatJoshcanseethecopandMargecanseehimandthatbothspoketohim.Allofthatcouldalsobepartofthemovie.Afeverdreambuiltoutofhopeanddenialandwishfulthinking.
Itwouldn’tsurpriseherifitwas.She’sexperiencedthemenoughtoknowthedrill.Theyemergewhenshe’sstressedandscaredandneedstobeshieldedfromtheharshnessofreality,whichdescribeshercurrentmoodinanutshell.
Sittinginthatbooth,lookingatacopwhomayormaynotexist,Charliethirstsforarealitycheckthesamewayanalcoholiccravesbooze.Anintenseyearningthatthreatenstooverwhelmher.ButaskingOfficerTomifhe’srealisn’tagoodidea.Charlielearnedherlessoninthereststopbathroom.Sheknowsthatsayingwhatshe’sthinkingwillonlymakeherlookcrazyand,ultimately,untrustworthy.
Plus,there’sMargetoconsider.Poor,innocentMarge,whohasyettorealizethatinchesfromhermidriffisaknifesharpenoughtotakeoutherspleen.IfCharliesaysordoesanythingsuspicious,Joshmighthurther.Hemightevenkillher.Charliecan’tletthathappen.Herconscience,alreadysoburdened,wouldn’tbeabletotakeit.
“Sothere’snotroublehere?”OfficerTomsays.
Charlieforcesasmile.“Noneatall.”
“Yousureaboutthat?”HisgazedartstoJoshforamoment.“Youfeelsafeinthisman’spresence?”
“Ofcourseshedoes,”Joshsays.
“Iwasaskingthelady,”OfficerTomsays.
Acrossthetable,Joshgivesheranunnervinglook.Coldsmile,darkeyes,weightedstare.Theknifeinhishandcontinuestoglisten.
“Ifeelabsolutelysafe,”Charliesays.“Butthankyouforyourconcern.”
OfficerTomstudiesher,hisgazesurprisinglypiercingashedecideswhethertobelieveher.
“I’msureitwasacrankcall,”Margesays,decidingforhim.“Someboredkidtryingtostiruptrouble.Nowifyoustopbotheringmycustomers,I’llfixyouacoffeefortheroad.Onthehouse.”
Shestands.
Joshsetsthesteakknifebackonthetable.
Charlieletsslipatinyhuffofrelief.
MargejoinsOfficerTomatthecounterandpourscoffeeintoato-gocup.“Thanksforcheckinginonus,Tom.Butwe’refine.Isn’tthatright,folks?”SheturnstoCharlieandJosh,givingthemanexaggeratedwink.
“We’refine,”Joshsays.
“Yes,fine,”Charliesays,aweakecho.ShelookstoJosh.“Infact,wewerejustleaving.Weren’twe?”
Josh,surprised,takesabeatbeforereplying.“Yes.Wewere.”
Heslidesoutofthebooth.Charliedoesthesameandfollowshimtothedoor,knowingthatshe’sabouttoloseherlastchanceatrescue.
It’sarisksheneedstotake.
Acoupleofyearsago,inoneofherelectivepsychclasses,she’dreadaboutkidnapvictimswhostayedwiththeircaptorslongaftertheycouldhaveescaped.Stockholmsyndrome.Themindwarpingovertimeuntiltheabductedcametosympathizewiththosewhotookthem.Atthetime,Charliejudgedthoseyoungwomen.Andtheywereallyoungwomen.Weak,vulnerable,victimizedwomenwhodidn’thavethegoodsensetofleeatthefirstopportunity.
“I’dneverletthathappentome,”shetoldMaddy.
Butnowsheunderstands.
Thosewomendidn’tstaybecausetheywereweak.
Theystayedbecausetheywerescared.
Becausetheyfearedwhatwouldhappentothemiftheirescapeplanfailed.Thatitwouldbeworsethantheircurrentsituation.Anditcouldalwaysgetworse.
Inthiscase,“worse”meansJoshdoingsomethingrashandhurtingnotjustherbutalsoMargeandOfficerTomintheprocess.Andthishasnothingtodowiththem.
ThisisbetweenherandJosh.
Becauseofthat,it’sbesttogetoutofthedinerandbackinthecar,whereshe’stheonlyoneindanger.Sometimesyoucan’tsimultaneouslybesmart,brave,andcareful.Sometimesyouneedtochooseone.
ByfollowingJoshtothedoor,Charlie’schoosingbravery.
Whenshereachesthedessertcase,stilllitandlazilyspinning,OfficerTomcallsouttoherfromhisspotatthecounter.
“Youforgotyourbackpack,miss.”
“Oh,mygoodness,”Charliesays,hopingitsoundsauthentic.“Thankyou.”
Shereturnstotheboothandgrabsthebackpackshe’dleftthereonpurpose.Then,afteranover-the-shoulderglancetomakesureMargeandOfficerTomaren’tlooking,shesnatchesthesteakknifefromthetableandstuffsitintoapocketofhercoat.
MIDNIGHT
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
CharliewatchesthedinerrecedeintheGrandAm’ssidemirror—ablurofchromeandneonthat’ssoonreplacedbynightsky,moonlight,andtheghost-graytreescrowdingtheedgeoftheroad.They’vereenteredthemiddleofnowhere.Justthetwoofthem.
Theyrideinsilence,bothofthemfacingforward,theireyesfixedonthesweepofheadlightsbrighteningtheroadahead.Charliehasnoideaifthey’reheadingtowardtheinterstateorawayfromit.Notthatitmatters.Shealreadyassumesthatwhereverthey’regoing,it’sdefinitelynotOhio.Andthatthere’llbenocomingbackfromthis.
“Howmuchdoyouknow?”Joshsaysafterthey’vetraveledamilewithoutanothercarorbuildinginsight.
“Everything,”Charliesays.
Joshnods,unsurprised.“Ifiguredasmuch.Why’dyougetbackinthecar?”
“BecauseIhadto.”
Itreallyisthatsimple.Charliecouldn’trisklettingJoshdosomethingtoMargeorOfficerTom.Andshecertainlycouldn’tlethimleaveonhisown,wherehecoulddothesamethingshedidtoMaddytosomeoneelse.Sonowshe’shere,sittingnexttoakiller.
Callitfate.
Callitkarma.
Whateveritis,sheunderstandssheneedstobetheonetostopJosh.It’sherdutyandhersalone.
Thatdoesn’tmakeheranylessfrightened.She’smorescarednowthanshe’sbeentheentirecarride.Becausenowsheknowsthestakes.
StopJoshfromgettingaway,ordietrying.
TheproblemisthatCharliedoesn’tknowhow,exactly,sheshouldtrytostophim.Shesitswithherhandthrustdeepinhercoatpocket,herfingerscurlinganduncurlingaroundthehandleofthesteakknife.PartofheristemptedtoattackJoshnowandjustgetitoverwith.Shedoesn’tbecausetheideaofstabbingsomeone—literallythrustingaknifeintoanotherhumanbody—frightensherasmuchasthinkingaboutwhatJoshmighttrytodotoher.
“Mostpeoplewouldn’thavedonethat,”hesays.
“Iguessthatmakesmeplucky.”
Joshchucklesatthat.WhenhelooksCharlie’sway,it’swithwhatshecanonlydiscernasadmiration.
“Yes,youarecertainlythat.”Hepauses,asifdebatingwhetherheshouldsaywhat’sonhismind,ultimatelydecidingtojustgoforit.“Ilikeyou,Charlie.That’swhat’ssofucked-upaboutallthis.Iliketalkingtoyou.”
“Youlikelyingtome,”Charliesays.“There’sabigdifference.”
“Yougotmethere.Itoldyoualotofthingsthatweren’ttrue.Iwon’tdenythat.”
“LikeyournamebeingJosh.”
“That’soneofthem,yes.MyrealnameisJakeCollins.Butyoualreadyknewthat.”
Charlienods.Shedid.EvenattheheightofJosh’smindgames,asmallpartofherknewshewasrightaboutthat.
“Yourrealname.Yourrealdriver’slicense.ThatgameofTwentyQuestions.WhydidyouletmethinkI’dimaginedallofthat?”
“BecauseIneededtokeepyouinthecar,”Joshsays.“Youlookedlikeyouwereabouttobolt,soIcameupwithsomethingonthefly.Iguessitworked.”
Thatitdid.AndCharliefeelsstupidandangrywithherselfforbelievingit,eventhoughsheshouldn’t.It’snotstupidtowanttobelievethebestinpeople.Youshouldn’tgetmadatyourselfforthinkingsomeoneisgoodandnotinherentlyevil.
“Isthereanythingyoutoldmetonightthatistrue?”shesays.
“Thatstoryaboutmymom.That’salltrue.SheleftonHalloweenjustlikeIsaid.Ihaven’ttoldtoomanypeopleaboutthat.”
“Whydidyoutellme?”
“BecauseIliketalkingtoyou,”Joshsays.“Thatwasn’talie,either.”
Insidehercoatpocket,Charlie’sfingerscontinuetoclenchandunclencharoundtheknifehandle.Earlier,theydidthesamethingaroundthehandleofthepassenger-sidedoor.Onceeagerforescape,noweagerforafight.
ButJoshshowsnosignofgivingittoher.Hesimplydrives,unhurried,readytosaysomethingelsehe’sunsureabout.
“Mydadalwaysblamedmeformymomleaving,”hesays.“Hesaiditwasmyfault.Rightupuntilthedayhedied.”
“Anotherthingyouliedabout.”
“Notreally,”Joshsays.“Hedidhaveastroke.It’swhatkilledhim.AndIwouldhavedroppedeverythingtotakecareofhim,ifI’dneededto.Eventhoughhehatedmeand,well,IguessIhatedhim.”
“Becauseheblamedyouforwhatyourmomdid?”Charliesays.
Joshshakeshishead.“No.Becauseheconvincedmetoblamemyself.Itdidn’tmatterthatmymotherchosetoleaveallonherown.Ithoughtitwasbecauseofme.Istilldo.”
Charlieknowsthatfeelingalltoowell.Soheavyandcumbersomeandexhaustingthatshewoulddoanythingtoridherselfofit.
Evendie.
Sheknowsbecauseshealmostdid.Nottonight.Beforethat.Fourdaysbefore.
“Ialmostkilledmyself,”shesays.
ThewordssurpriseJosh.TheysurpriseCharlieevenmore.She’sneveradmitteditbefore.Noteventoherself.
“Why?”Joshsays,shockstillpotentinhisvoice.Charlienoticessomethingelsethere,too—anoteofconcern.
“BecauseIwantedtheguilttogoaway.”
“Sothat’swhyyouacceptedaridefromastranger.”
“Yes,”Charliesays.“That’sexactlywhy.”
Joshstayssilentamoment,thinking.“Howdidithappen?”
“Accidentaloverdose,”Charliesays.“Sleepingpills.”
Theywerethelittlewhitepills,prescribedtooffsettherestlessnessbroughtonbythelittleorangeones.Charliehadn’ttakenmany,preferringtospendhernightsindulginginrevengefantasiesthatborezeroresemblancetothereal-lifeoneshe’snowexperiencing.
Butthencamethenightinwhichthehuman-shapedblankshenormallyfoughtwasreplacedbyamirrorimageofherself.ItstartledhersomuchthatsheputamovieintotheVCR,crawledintobed,anddownedahandfuloflittlewhitepills.
Shetoldherselfthatshejustneededtosleep.
ThatitwasjustacoincidencetheVHStapeshepickedwasSingin’intheRain,whichsheoncetoldMaddywasthelastmovieshewantedtoseebeforeshediedbecauseitwasasclosetoheavenasanyfilmcouldget.
Charliecontinuedtolietoherselfevenafterherbodyrebelledandshethrewupthepillsandthenflushedthemeagerfewthatremaineddownthetoilet.Sheletherselfthinkeveryexcuseinthebook.Shewastootiredtoknowwhatshewasdoing.Shewasn’tthinkingstraight.Itwasallanunfortunateaccident.
That’stherealreasonsheneededtoleaveOlyphantimmediately.Whyshecouldn’twaituntilThanksgivingorwhenRobbiewasfree.WhyshewenttotherideboardandputupthatflyerandjumpedatthechancetosharearidewithJosh.
Charliewasafraidthatifnothingchanged,she’dexperienceanotherunfortunateaccident,thistimewithadifferentresult.
Butastheshameandsadnessofthatmorningcomebacktoher,sheknowsthetruth.
Noneofitwasaccidental.
Forabrief,soul-shakingmoment,shewouldhavepreferredtodiethanspendonemoreminuteweigheddownbyherguilt.
Now,though,shewantstolive.Morethananything.
“I’mgladthatdidn’thappen,”Joshsays.“AndI’msorrywedidn’tgettomeetunderdifferentcircumstances.IthinkIwouldhavelikedthat.”
Charliestayssilent.It’sbettertodothatthanadmitshefeelsthesameway.TherewerepointsinthisdrivewhensheactuallylikedJosh,beforesuspicionandfearkickedin.Shefeltakinshipwithhim,probablybecausehe’sasmuchofanoutcastassheis.Lonely,too.Shecantellthatevennow.Likerecognizeslike.Inaweird,twistedway,JoshseemstounderstandherbetterthanevenMaddysometimesdid.
Ormaybeit’ssimplyMaddywhomakesherfeeltiedtoJosh.There’sareasonJoshchosehertobeoneofhisvictims.PerhapshewasdrawntoMaddyforthesamereasonsCharliewas.Andit’spossiblethat’sanotherreasonshegotbackintothecarwithhimatthediner,eventhoughitdefiedlogicandreason.
Shewantstoknowwhy.
WhyJoshpickedMaddy.
Whyheapproachedheroutsidethebar.
Whyhedecidedtokillher.
Butinsteadoftryingtoarticulateallthat,Charlieletsthesilencegrow.Itfillsthecar,uneasy,thetwoofthemnevertakingtheireyesofftheroad,whichseemstohavenarrowed.Onbothsides,theforestpressesinclose.Barebranchesarcoverhead,connectinglikeelderlycouplesholdinghands.Bitsofsnowstillsitintheevergreens.Occasionalclumpsofitdropfromthebranchesandhittheroofofthecarwithamuffledthump.
“Sowhatnow?”Charlieeventuallysays.
“Wedrive.”
“ButnottoOhio.”
“No,Charlie.I’mafraidnot.”
“What’sgoingtohappenwhenthedrivingstops?”
“Ithinkyoualreadyknowtheanswer.”
Charlie’sfingersagaincurlaroundtheknifeinherpocket.Thistime,theystaythatway.Grippingittight.Asreadyasshe’lleverbe.
“Maybeyoushouldstopdrivingnow,”shesays.
Joshgivesheralook.“Yousureyouwantthat?”
“No,”Charliesays.“ButI’vegonethroughalotofthingsIdidn’twant.”
“Likewhathappenedtoyourparents.”
“Yes.AndMaddy.”
Charliefinallysensesit—thehardeningofherheartshe’sbeenwaitingfor.AllittookwassayingMaddy’snameoutloudtothemanwhokilledher.Yetitfeelsnothinglikewhatsheexperiencedinthemoviesinhermind.She’sangry,yes,butalsosad.Soexhaustinglysad.
“Yes,”Joshsays.“Andyour—”
Adeersuddenlyleapsintotheroad,rightinfrontofthecar,theheadlightsmakingitseyesglow.
Joshpoundsthebrakes,andCharlie’sjerkedforwardasliverofasecondbeforetheseatbeltlocksandyanksherback.Herheadsnapsagainstthebackoftheseat.Besideher,Joshcutsthewheeltotheright,tryingtoavoidthedeer.Theanimalspringsacrosstheroadandintothewoods,butthecarkeepsmoving.Fishtailingatfirst,thenrotating,thebackoftheGrandAmwhippinginanarcacrosstheroad.
Whenthecarstops,it’sstillontheroadbutfacingthewrongdirection.
Theysitthereamoment,thecaridling,theenginepinging,theheadlightspointinginthedirectionfromwhichthey’djustcome.
“Areyouokay?”Joshsays.
“Ithinkso,”Charliesaysbeforehavingtwothoughts,rightontopofeachother.
Thefirstis:IfJoshplansonkillingher,whydoeshecareifshe’sokay?
Thesecondis:Thedrivinghasstopped.
Joshunhookshisseatbelt.“Wemighthaveclippedthatdeer.I’mgoingtocheckthefrontofthecar.”
Hepauses,waitingforCharlietosaysomething.Butshecan’tsayanythingbecausethatsecondthoughtshehadrepeatsthroughherheadlikeasiren.
We’vestoppeddriving.We’vestoppeddriving.We’vestoppeddriving.
Athirdthoughtjoinsit.
Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappennext.
ButCharliedoes.
She’sknownthemomenttheyleftthediner.
Joshisgoingtotrytokillherandshe’sgoingtotrytokillhimandonlyoneofthemisgoingtosucceed.
Withherhandinhercoatpocket,herfingersinadeathgriparoundtheknife,CharliewatchesasJoshgivesupwaitingforaresponseandgetsoutofthecar.Hecrossesinfrontofit,hissweatshirtbrightintheglowoftheheadlights.Whenhebendsdowntoexaminethefrontbumper,CharlienoticeswispsofsteamrisingfromtheGrandAm’shood.Ittakesherasecondtorealizethecauseofit.
Theengine.
It’sstillrunning.
Readytodrive.
Toendthis,rightnow,allsheneedstodoisslipbehindthewheel,shiftintofirstgear,andstomponthegaspedal.
Charliemovesquickly.
Snappingofftheseatbelt.
Slidingoverthecenterconsole.
Grabbingthesteeringwheelforleverage.
She’shalfwaybehindthewheelwhenJoshcatchessightofher.Inaflash,he’sbesidethecar,flingingopenthedriver’s-sidedoorbeforeCharliecanhitthelock.AsJoshpusheshiswayintothecar,Charliescramblesbackintothepassengerseat.
Joshgazesatherwithregretinhiseyes.
“Listen,Charlie,”hesays,“Idon’twanttohurtyou,okay?ButIcan.Hurtyou,thatis.I’mquitecapableofit.Sowecandothistwoways.Youcanbecalmaboutit,whichismyrecommendation.OryoucantrytofightitandI’llbeforcedtogetrough,which—Ireiterate—Ireally,reallydon’twanttodo.”
Shrinkingagainstthepassenger-sidedoor,Charlietriestoputherhandbackinherpocket.
“KeepthosehandswhereIcanseethem,”Joshsays.“Don’tmakethishardonyourself.”
Heplungesahandintothefrontpocketofhisjeans.HepullssomethingoutandtossesittoCharlie.Unwillingtocatchit,Charlierecoilsandletsitdroptothefloorwitharattle.
Shelooksdownandseesit’sapairofhandcuffs.
“Pickthemupandputthemon,”Joshsays.
Charlieshakesherhead,andatearflingsfromhereyes.Asurprise.Shedidn’tknowshe’dstartedcrying.
“Youneedtobesmartnow,”Joshsays,histoneawarning.“Pickthemup.”
“I—”Charlie’svoicecracks,cutshortbyfearandangerandsadness.“Idon’twantto.”
“Pleasedon’tmakemegetrough,”Joshsays.“Youdon’twantthat.Idon’twantthat.SoI’mgoingtocounttothree.AndwhenI’mdone,thosecuffsneedtobearoundyourwrists.”
Hepauses.
Thenhestartstocount.
“One.”
Stillshakingherheadandstillcrying,Charliereachesforthehandcuffsatherfeet.
“Two.”
Shescrunchesdown,onehandscoopingupthehandcuffs,theotherburrowingbackintohercoatpocket.
“Three.”
Charliesitsup,thecuffscoldinherlefthand,theknifehandlehotinherright.
Shedoesn’tmove.
“Damnit,Charlie.Justusethefuckingcuffs.”
Joshlungesoverthecenterconsole,movinginaninstantfromdriver’ssidetopassengerside.
Charliepullstheknifefromhercoat.
Shecloseshereyes.
Then,withascreamsolouditshakesthecarwindows,shethruststheknifeforwardandplungesitintoJosh’sstomach.
Shethoughtitwouldgoineasierthanitdoes.Inthemovies,knivesslideinsmoothly,likeabladethroughbutter.Thetruthisthatittakesforce.Teeth-gritting,gruntingforcetopushitthroughJosh’ssweatshirt,thenhisflesh,thendeeperstill,intoplacesCharliedoesn’twanttothinkabout.ShestopsonlywhenshefeelsbloodonherhandsandhearsJoshmoanhername.
“Charlie.”
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charlieopenshereyes.
Sheturnsherhead.
Slowly.
Soslowly.
Hergazeinchestotheleft,stoppingwhenthetree-shapedairfreshenerdanglingfromtherearviewmirrorhitstheedgeofhervision.
Charliesucksinabreath,takinginthetoo-strongscentofpine.
“Whoa.Youthere,Charlie?”avoicenexttohersays.
Herheadresumesturning.Fastnow.Aneck-snappingswivelthatbringsherface-to-facewithJosh.Hesitsbehindthewheel,lookingbothamusedandexpectant.Likehe’sbeenwaitingalongtimeforthismoment,andnowthatit’shere,itpleaseshim.
“Isthisreal?”shesays.
Joshstudiesthebackofhishand,humoringher.“Looksprettyrealtome.Wereyou,uh—”
“Atthemovies?”
“Yeah.”
“Idon’tknow.”
Butshedesperatelyhopesso.Shewantstothinkshe’snotcapableofdoinginreallifewhatshe’djustdoneinherimagination.
“Howcanyounotknow?”Joshsays.
“Itwas—”
Scary.
Soscaryanddetailedandconfusing.EnoughthatCharliefeelsdizzy.Graycloudsfloatinandoutofhervision.Ridingwiththemisaskull-fillingheadache.ShefeelslikeDorothywakingattheendofTheWizardofOz,suddenlyinasepia-tintedworldthathadminutesearlierbeendazzlingcolor.
“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,”shesays.
Andshetrulydoesn’t.Shehasnoideaifshe’sinrealityoramovieoramemory.Maybeit’sallthree,whichisaperfectdescriptionofmoviesthemselves.They’reacombinationoflifeandfantasyandillusionthatbecomesakindofshareddream.Charlieimaginesthismomentbeingprojectedontoabigscreen,watchedbyallthosebeautifulpeopleoutthereinthedark.
Atthispoint,nothingwouldsurpriseheranymore.
Thecarisstillstoppedinthemiddleoftheroad.Throughthewindshield,Charlieseestreesonbothsidesofthecar,theirbarelimbsskeleton-grayagainstthesky.
“Wedon’tneedtostopdriving,”Joshsays,atingeofhopeinhisvoice.“Wecankeepgoing.”
“AllthewaytoOhio?”
“Ifthat’swhatyouwant,yeah.”
“Or,”Charliesays,“wecouldgotoamovie.”
ThesuggestionmakesJoshchuckle.“Iwouldn’tmindthat.Notonebit.”
“Soyou’renotgoingtotrytokillme?”
“Ican’t,”Joshsays.“Youalreadykilledme.”
Charlielooksdownatherhands.Onegripsapairofhandcuffs.Theotherissmearedwithblood.Ontheothersideofthecar,Joshchokesouthername.
“Charlie.”
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Charlie’seyesopenontheirown.Awillfulsnap.
Infrontofher,sprawledsidewaysinthedriver’sseat,isJosh.Hisheadisproppedagainstthewindow,whichhasbecomefoggedbyhispainedgrunts.Whenhespasms,hishairmakesajellyfishpatternintheglass.
Thekniferemainsinhisside,pokingoutlikeameatthermometer.Joshstaresatit,wild-eyedandsweaty,thefingersofhislefthandreachingforit.
“Charlie,”hegrunts.“Helpme.”
Shestaysfrozen,saveforhereyelids,whichsherapidlyblinks,hopingthatdoingsowilljoltheroutofthisnightmarishmovieinhermind.Becausethat’sallitis.
Amovie.
Ithastobe.
Thiscan’tbereal.
Eventhoughitlooksthatway.BloodhasstartedtoseepintoJosh’ssweatshirt.Awetbloomaroundtheknifethat’sdarkerthanthefakebloodusedinmovies.Almostblack.Likeit’snotreallybloodatallbutsomekindofprimordialooze.
SeeingitmakesCharliebackagainstthepassengerdoor.Shefumblesforthehandle,findsit,pulls.Thedoorswingsopen,andtheGrandAm’sdomelightflickson,castingabrutalglowovertheinsideofthecar.Nolongerdark,thebloodnowlooksTechnicolorbrightinthedomelight’sglare.
Charlieresumesblinking.Fasternow.Hereyelidsworkinginawaythatmakeseverythingflickerlikeaprojectornotrunningatfullspeed.Sheslidesoutofthecarbackward,droppingthroughthedoor,landingontheroadwithaburstofpaininherlowerback.
Shecrawlsawayfromthecar,scuttlingbackwardlikeacrab.Shedoesn’twanttobehere.Shewantstobeanywhereelse.Anytimeelse.Shewantstowakeandfindherselfinawholeotherexistence.OnewithoutJoshandthatcarandthatblood.
WhenthinkingaboutstabbingJosh,shedidn’tknowhowshe’dfeelifsheactuallywentthroughwithit.Victorious,maybe.Orsated.Orproud.
Instead,shejustfeelsscared.
Butit’sastrangekindoffear.
She’snolongerscaredaboutwhatmighthappentoher.She’sscaredaboutwhatshe’sdone.
Charlieclimbstoherfeet.
ShetakesonelastlookattheGrandAm.
Thenshebeginstorun.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Heremovestheknifefromhisgutinonequickyank.Betterthatthantryingtopullitoutlittlebylittle,whichhurtsmorethanhelps.Andthere’splentyofpainalready.Themomentairhitsthestabwound,afreshboltofagonypulsesthroughhimandthere’snothingtodobutyell.
Whenit’soverandtheboilingpainlowerstoamoremanageablesimmer,hetakesafewdeepbreathsandchecksthedamage.Thefirstthinghenotices—becauseit’simpossibletomiss—istheblood.ThesidewhereCharliestabbedhimiscrimsonfromhiptoarmpit.Hedoesn’tknowifit’sbecausehissweatshirtisextraabsorbentorifhe’sreallylostthatmuchblood.Eitherway,thesightofitmakeshimdizzy.
Ittakessomeefforttoliftthesweatshirttoseetheactualknifewound.Theblood-soakedfabricstickstohisskinlikeglue.Heconsidersleavingitlikethat.Amakeshiftbandage.Buthe’sbeenstabbedbefore,andheknowsthatdoingnothingwillleadtomorebloodloss,theninfection,thendeath.
Likeitornot,thisbitchneedstobestitched.
Sohepullsupthesweatshirtthesamewayhepulledouttheknife—inoneswiftmotion.Ridingoutanotherblastofpain,helooksdownandseesaninch-longsliceontheleftsideofhisabdomen.
It’sgoodthattheknifewassmall.
It’sbadthatitwaslong.
Thewounditleftbehindisdeepenoughtomakehimworrythattheknifecouldhavehitamajororganorseveredsomenerves,althoughifthatwerethecase,hethinkshe’dbeinmorepain.Ordead.Andsincehe’saliveandnotparalyzedinagony,heassumeshegotlucky.
Hereachesunderthedriver’sseat,hislefthandfumblingforthefirst-aidkithekeepsthereincaseofemergencies.Eachmovementpromptsafreshwaveofpainthatmakeshimcurseeverythingaboutthisnight.
Itwassupposedtobeeasy.Nowit’sjustashitshow.Andheknowsexactlywhotoblame.
Charlie.
Hewasn’tlyingwhenhesaidhelikedtalkingtoher.Hecan’trememberthelasttimeheenjoyedbeinginsomeone’scompany.People,generallyspeaking,suck.It’swhyhedoeswhathedoes.Mosthumanbeingscan’tstopbeingselfish,greedy,piggishassholes.Andit’shisjobtomakesuretheypayforthat.
ButCharlie’sdifferent.Soweirdandwoundedand,ashenowknows,secretlyfierce.Itmadehimlowerhisguard.Hetoldherthingshe’dnevertoldanyoneelse,ever.Allitgothiminreturnwasaknifetothegut.
Beneaththeseat,hisfingersbrushsmoothplastic.Thefirst-aidkit.Finally.Hepicksitup,dropsitonthesideofhisstomachthatdoesn’thaveastabwound,andclicksitopen.Heriflesthroughit,findingasmallbottleofrubbingalcohol,agauzepad,somemedicaltape,aneedle,andatinyspoolofthread.Everythingheneedsforalittleamateursurgery.
Nowcomesthehardpart.Thethinghedoesn’twanttodobutknowshehastodoifhe’sgoingtocatchuptoCharlie.Andheneedsthattohappen.
He’snotdonewithherjustyet.
Steelinghimselfwitharaggedbreath,hepoursthealcoholontothewoundandscreamsthroughthepain.Hishandstremblesomuchittakesfourtriesbeforehe’sabletothreadtheneedle.Andwhenthat’sdone,hegrunts,gritshisteeth,andbeginstostitch.
EXT.DINERPARKINGLOT—NIGHT
ThedinerisdarkbythetimeCharliereachesit.Sodarkthatshealmostmissesitinhermadsprintdowntheroad.She’dbeenlookingforitslight,notitsshape.Theneonandpinkandbluearoundtheentrance.Thegaudybrightnessofitssign.Thewarmglowspillingthroughthewidewindows.Allofitisnowgone,replacedbyanunnervingblackness.
It’sclosed.
There’snoonehere.
Butthenshespotsalonecarstillintheparkinglot.Thepowder-blueCadillacshe’dnoticedwhentheyfirstarrived.Shehopesitmeanssomeone’sstillthere.
Charliemovestothedoor,herlegsheavyandherchesttight.Sheranforatleasthalfanhour.Thelongestshe’severruninherlife.
Despitethecold,herbodyissoakedwithsweat.Charliefeelsitunderneaththecoat.Adampstickinessthatmakeshershirtclingtoherskin.Sheplacesahandonherheartandrealizesthatshe’sstillholdingthehandcuffs.Hergripissotightaroundthemthatshehastoforceherfingersloose.
Notknowingwhatelsetodo,sheshovesthecuffsintothefrontpocketofherjeans.Agoodidea.They’llserveasevidence.ProofthatJoshhadtriedtousethemonherandthatshehadkilledhiminself-defense.
Thethoughtknockstheairoutofher.
Shejustkilledsomeone.
No,shedidn’tseeJoshdie.Shecouldn’tbringherselftostickaroundforthat.Butsheknowshe’sdead.Afactthatmakesherlookdownatherblood-cakedhands.Sheusesthecoattowipethemclean,knowingdeepdownthatit’spointless.Itdoesn’tmatterthatshekilledakiller.Herhandswillbeforeverstained.
Charlietriesthediner’sfrontdoor.Althoughtheblindshavebeenloweredoverthewindowsandthesignonthedoorhasbeenturnedtoreadclosed,thehandlestillgiveswhenshepushesonit.
Openingthedooracrack,shelooksinside.Theonlylightssheseescomefromthedessertcase,thepieswithinstillaglow,stillspinning,andthejukebox.Alltheboothsareempty.Chairshavebeenplacedupsidedownonthecounter.Underherfeet,thefloorglistenswithmoisture.It’sjustbeenmopped.
“Hello?”
Charliepauses,hopingforaresponse.Whennonecomes,shestepsinsideandsays,“Please.Ineedhelp.”
SheturnstotheboothsheandJoshoccupiedamerehourago,shockedbyhowmuchcanchangeinthatshortspanoftime.Sixtyminutesago,shewasjustascaredcollegestudent.Nowshe’sakiller.
Charliehearsanoisefromtherearofthediner,justbehindthedoortothekitchen.ShewhirlsaroundtoseethedoorswingingopenasMargepushesthroughit,stillinheruniform.Inherhandisawetrag.SheseesCharlieandstopsjustbeyondthedoor,surprised.
“Charlie?”shesays.“Sweetie,whathappened?”
Charliecanonlyimaginehowshelookstothewaitress.
Panting.
Sweaty.
Bloody.
“Josh,”shesays.“Heattackedme.AndI—Istabbedhim.”
AbonyhandfliestoMarge’smouth.“Areyouokay?”
Charlie’sbodyanswersforher.Herlegs,numbfromshockandfearandallthatrunning,buckle.Therestofhersways.Atfirstalittle,thenalot.Asudden,shockingtiltduringwhichshemanagestoblurtoutacompletesentence.
“Ithinkweshouldcallthepolice.”
“Ofcourse,”Margesays,rushingtowardher.“Ofcourse,ofcourse.”
Charlie’sstilltiltingwhenMargereachesherandshufflesbehindher,outofview.Atfirst,shethinksthewaitressistryingtokeepherupright.ButthenoneofMarge’shandsclampsoverhernoseandmouth.
Inthathandistheragshewasholding,nowwetagainstCharlie’sskin,stinkingofmildewandsomethingelse.SomethingstrongthatmakesCharlietwitchandgrowdizzy.
Thetiltingcontinues.Thedinerdoesn’tspinsomuchasfade,thewalls,thefloor,theceilingallturningtomist.Thejukeboxisthelasttogo.Itscoloredlightsflarelikeamatchjustbeforeit’sblownout.
Thenit,too,isgone.
ONEA.M.
INT.DORMROOM—DAY
Charliewakesupinbed.
Herbed.
TheoneinherdormroomatOlyphant.Sheknowsthiswithoutevenopeninghereyesbecauseofthewayitsagsinthecenterlikeahammock,whichalwayshelpedhersleepbettereventhoughitmeantshe’dwakewithherlowerbackthrobbing.
There’snothrobnow,though.Shefeelslikeshe’sfloating.Notinthebedbutslightlyaboveit,hoveringlikeLindaBlairinTheExorcist
Someoneelseisthere.Standingbythebed.SmellinglikecigarettesmokeandChanelNo.5.
Maddy.
“Wakeywakey,”shesays.
Charlie’seyesflutteropenasshetakesinthewelcomesightofherfriend.Maddy’swearingaChanelsuit.Aclassic.ThekindJackieKennedyworeinDallas,onlyhersislimegreenandthefabriconthesleeveispilled.Inonewhite-glovedhandisaglassofchampagne.Theotherholdsaplatetoppedwithasliceofcake.
“Happybirthday,Charlie.”
Maddysmiles.
Wide.
Herredlipscurdleintoagrimacethatrevealsadarkspacewhereoneofhercanineteethshouldbe.It’sstillbleeding—asteadytricklethatoverflowsMaddy’sbottomlipandspillsdownherchinbeforedrippingontothecakeincrimsondollops.
INT.DINER—NIGHT
Charliewakeswithastart.
Notinbed.Notinherdormroom.
She’sinawoodenchair.Creaky.Uncomfortable.Itsramrod-straightbackforceshertositunnaturallyupright,herspinepinchedfromtheeffort.Shetriestoslouchbutcan’t.It’sasifshe’sbeengluedtothechair.
Itisn’tuntilshetriestomoveherarmsthatshenoticesthey’vebeenstrappeddownwithropes.Theywindaroundherwristsandthechair’sarms,bindingthemtogether,theropessotighttheydigintoherskinandcutoffthecirculationinherhands.Herfingershaveturnedwhite.Shewigglesthembutfeelsnothing.
It’sthesamewithhertoes,thankstoropearoundherankles,lashingherlegstothechair.
Moreropewindsaroundherupperbodyintwospots—justunderherribcageandagainatthebaseofherneck.It’ssotightthatshestrugglestobreath.Panicfillsherlikewater,threateningtodrownher.
“Help!”sheyells,hervoicegurgling,liketherereallyiswaterinherlungs.“Someonepleasehelpme!”
Margespeaksinthedarkness,hervoicehusky,hushed.
“Noonecanhearyou,sweetie.Noonebutme.”
Alightisswitchedon.Asinglebarebulbhangingfromtheceilingthatcastsabright,unsparinglightonhersurroundings.
Asmallroom.
Perfectlysquare.
Alongthewalls,shelvesstretchfromfloortoceiling.Fillingthemarecansandboxesandcartonsandbins.Margeleansagainstoneoftheshelves,watchingher.
“Welcomeback,”shesays.
Throughthedoorwaybehindher,Charliecanseeawalk-inrefrigeratorontheothersideofanarrowhallway.Itsdoorisshuttight,asteadyhummuffledbehindit.Totherightofthefridgeisastackofwoodencrates,beyondwhichCharliecanseeasliverofkitchen.
She’sstillinthediner.
Shehasnoideawhy.
Charliestrugglesbeneathherrestraints,thechairbucking.“What’sgoingon?”shesays.
“It’sbestifyoustayquiet,”Margesays.
That’snotgoingtohappen.NotwhileCharlie’stiedtoachairinwhatlookstobeastoreroom.
“Idon’tknowwhyyou’redoingthis,butit’snottoolatetostop.YoucanjustletmegoandI’llleaveandnevertellanyone.”
Thatideadoesn’tgooverwellwithMarge.Thewaitressscowlsandthrustsahandintoherapronpocket.
“Areyougoingtohurtme?”Charliesays.
“Idon’tknowyet,”Margereplies.“Maybe.Thatdependsonyou.”
Charliedoesn’tknowwhattodowiththatinformation.Itsitsinherbrainlikearockinastream—heavyandimmobile,eventhoughthecurrentswirlsallaroundit.
“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”
AcircleoflightformsontherefrigeratorbehindMarge,growinglarger.Charlieassumesit’sfromacarpullingintotheparkinglot,itshighbeamsshiningthroughtheroundwindowinthedoorleadingtothemaindiningroom.Thatwouldputthedooranddiningroomtotheirleft.GoodtoknowforwhenCharlietriestoescape.Ifshegetsthechance.Theropesaroundherremaintightnomatterhowmuchshestrainsagainstthem.
Thelightonthefridgevanishes.
Charliehears—orthinksshehears—acardoorslowlyopening.She’sonlycertainwhenshehearsatelltaleslamtwosecondslater.
Definitelyacardoor.
Someone’soutthere.
AndfromthelookofconcernthatcrossesMarge’sface,she’snotexpectingwhoeveritis.
Charlie’sheartpoundsinherears.Thiscouldbehelp.Itcouldmeanrescue.Sheopenshermouthtoscream,butMargeisuponherbeforeshecanletitout,stuffingadishtowelintohermouth.Ittastesfaintlylikedishsoap.EnoughtomakeCharliegagasMargeconnectstheendsofthetowelinatightknotatthebackofherhead.
Outfront,someonetriesthediner’sfrontdoor,findingitlocked.Undeterred,whoeveritisrapsontheglass.
“Hello?Isanyonethere?”
Charliegaspsbeneaththedishtowel,sendingmoresoaptasteagainstthebackofherthroat.
She’drecognizethatvoicefromamileaway.
Robbie.
“Hello?”hecallsagain,punctuatingitwithanotherknockonthedoor.
Charliegoescompletelysilentandstill,wonderingifshe’smistaken.There’snowayitcouldbeRobbie.Itmustbesomeoneelse.Thepolice.Ahungrymotorist.Anyonebutherboyfriend,whowouldhaveneededtodrivemorethananhourtogethere.She’sprovenwrongwhenthepersonoutsidecalls,“Charlie?Areyouinthere?”
ItisRobbie.
Charliethinks:He’sheretorescueher.
Shethinks:HecaneasilyoverpowerMarge.
Shethinks:Inafewseconds,thiswillallbeover.
Butthenanotherthoughtemerges,onelesshopefulthantheothers.
Shethinks:Rightnow—thisverymoment—couldbeanothermovieinhermind.Itdoesn’tmatterthatMargealsohearshim,herlipsforminganirritatedscowl.Thatmightalsojustbepartofthemovie.Irrationalhopeprojectedontothebacksofhereyelids.
Robbiecallshernameagain,promptingMargetoreachintoherapronpocketandremovewhatshe’sbeenhidingthere.
Apistol.
It’ssmall.Almostdainty.There’sivoryatthehandleandapolishedshinetotheslate-graybarrel.
“Makeonesound,”Margewhispers,“andI’llshoothim.”
Sheleavesthestoreroomandpushesintothediningroom.Leftalone,Charliefeelshopeandfearcollideinherchestas,silentbehindthemakeshiftgag,shelistenstoMargeunlockthefrontdoorandopenitjustacrack.
“Sorry,”Margesays,usinghersassy-yet-wearywaitressvoice.“We’reclosed.”
Charliepicturesherstandingbythedessertcase,thegunhiddeninherapronasRobbietriestopeeraroundher,deeperintothediner.
“Wasthereagirlhereearlier?”Robbiesays.
“Lotsofgirlscomehere,hon.”
“Howmanywereheretonight?”
“Can’tsayIwaskeepingcount.”
Charlie’stemptedtomakenoise,whetherit’sscreamingintohergagortopplingthechairortryingtothrowherselfagainstoneoftheshelves.SheknowsRobbiecouldeasilyoverpowerMarge.He’sgotherbeatbyseveralinchesandprobablyfiftypoundsofmuscle.Theonlythingkeepinghersilentisthegun.
Beforetonight,Charliewouldn’thavebelievedthatsomeonelikeMargewascapableofdoingharm.Butinthespanofafewhoursshenowknowsbetter.Nowsheknowsthatordinarypeoplearecapableofviolent,viciousdeeds.Lookather,forexample.Shejustplungedaknifeintoaman’sstomachandlefthimtodie.
So,no,she’snotgoingtotestMarge.She’sgoingtostaysilentandstillbecausesherefusestoletRobbiegethurt.Charliehasenoughregretforonelifetime.Shecan’ttakeanymore.
“Mygirlfriendcalledmefromhereearliertonight,”Robbiesays.“Abouttwohoursago.”
“Areyousureshewascallingfromhere,hon?There’slotsofplaceslikethisaroundhere.”
“Yes,”Robbiesays.“Shereferredtoitbyname.TheSkylineGrille.Shetoldmeshewasindanger.”
“Whatkindofdanger?”
“Shedidn’tsay.ButIknowshewashereandintroubleandI—”Robbie,flirtingwithsoundinghysterical,stopstocollecthimself.“Ihaven’theardfromhersince,andI’mveryworriedabouther.”
“Whatdoesshelooklike?”Margeasks,asifshedoesn’talreadyknow.
“She’syoung.Twenty.Brownhair.Palecomplexion.HernameisCharlie,andshewouldhavebeenwearingaredcoat.”
“NowIrememberher,”Margesays.“Prettygirl.Friendly.Toldmegoodbyeonherwayoutthedoor.Shewasherewithanotherfella.Bigguy.Good-looking.”
“Butthey’regonenow?”
“There’snooneherebutme,sweetie.”
Robbiepauses,thinking.Evenwithoutbeingabletoseehim,Charlieknowshe’sgothisheadloweredandthethumbofhisrighthandrunningalonghisbottomlip.Hisusuallost-in-thoughtpose.
“Didshelookscaredinanyway?”hesays.“Orlikesheappearedtobeindanger?”
“NotfromwhatIcanrecall,”Margesays.“Theyweren’therelong.Justorderedsomefoodandsomedrinks,scarfeditdown,andleft.”
“Didyouseewhatkindofcartheywerein?”Robbieasks.“Orwhatdirectiontheywent?”
“Ididn’t.Iwasinthekitchenwhentheyleft.Camebacktoanemptytable.Theypaidthecheckandleft.”
AshoutformsinthebackofCharlie’sthroat,risingupward,threateningtoslipfree.She’slying!itwantstoyell.I’mhere!I’mrighthere!
Sheforcesthewordsbackdown,eventhoughRobbie’snowpreparingtoleave.
“Ifshecomesback,couldyoutellherRobbieislookingforher?”hesays.
“Iwill,”Margesays.“ButIwon’tbehereformuchlonger.I’mfixingtoleavemyselfinafewminutes.SorryIcouldn’tbemoreofahelp.”
“It’sfine,”Robbiesays.“Thankyouforyourtime.”
“Noproblem,hon.Hopeyougetintouchwithherrealsoon.”
Charliehearsthedoorclose,thelockbeingsnappedintoplace,thestartofacarengine.Thecircleoflightappearsonthefridgedooragainbeforeslidingaway.Amomentlater,Margereturnstothestoreroom,thepistolbackinherapronandadark-brownbottleandhandkerchiefnowinhand.
“Yourboyfriendsayshi,”shesays.“Devotedfellayou’vegotthere.Ihopeyouappreciatehim.”
Charlienods,unabletospeakandtoooverwhelmedtodoanythingelse.
ShedoesappreciateRobbie.Morethanhecouldpossiblyknow.Hecameforher.Eventhoughshewasleavinghim—andbreakinghisheartintheprocess—hedroveallthiswaytohelpher.Atearslipsdownhercheek,makingitallthewaytothesideofhermouthbeforebeingsuckedupbythegag.
“There’snothingtocryabout,”Margesays,morejudgmentalthanconsoling.“YoustayedquietandIdidn’thurthim.Ikeptmypartofthedeal.”
Yetanothertearfalls.Charliecan’thelpit.ShehadbeensoreadytoabandonwhatsheandRobbiehad.Becauseshefeltguilty.Andthatshedidn’tdeservehim.Andthathewouldleavehersoonenough.Butthenheshoweduphere,andnowsheunderstandsthatshewaswrong.Yes,shestillfeelsguilty,and,no,shedoesn’tdeservehim.Butheneverintendedtoleaveher.Hecametogetherback.Andnowitmightbetoolate.
“We’releaving,”Margesays.“Inordertodothat,Ineedtousethisagain.”
Sheholdsupthebottleandhandkerchief,makingsureCharliecanseethem.
“I’mgoingtoremovethegagnow.Ifyouscream,Iwillshootyou.Ifyoufightme,Iwillshootyou.DoImakemyselfclear?”
Charlienods.
“Good,”Margesays.“Ihopeyoureallymeanthat.BecauseI’mwarningyou,hon,youdon’twanttofuckwithme.”
Sheopensthebottle,lettingoutanoxiousvaporthathitsCharlieallthewayontheothersideofthestoreroom.Margeplacesthehandkerchiefoverthebottlebeforetippingit,dousingthecloth.ThenshestepstowardCharlie.
“Please,”Charliesays,strugglingtoformthewordbehindthegag.“Don’t.”
MargeyanksthegagfromCharlie’smouth.Nowfreetospeakclearly,shesays,“Pleasejustletmego.”
“NowwhyintheworldwouldIdothat,sweetie?”Margesays.“Youwereneversupposedtoleave.Iknewyou’dbeback,butIdidn’tthinkitwouldbeonyourown.”
IttakesCharlieamomenttounderstandwhatshemeans.Herbrain’sstillreelingfromanightfullofmoviesinhermind,stress,shock,andwhateverliquidMargehasbeendousingontothehandkerchief.Chloroform,mostlikely.Somethingnotcarriedbyanordinarywaitressinanaveragegreasyspoon.
Margehadbeenwaitingforher.Thiswasn’taspur-of-the-momentdetour.Joshhadbroughtherhereonpurpose.
Theentirenighthadbeenplannedinadvance.
“AreyouworkingwithJosh?”
“Who?”
“Jake,”Charliesays,correctingherself.“JakeCollins.Areyouworkingwithhim?”
“It’smorelikehe’sworkingwithme.”
Margeisuponhernow,swoopinginwiththehandkerchiefandslappingitoverCharlie’snoseandmouth.Charlietriestoholdherbreath,butit’snotpossibleforverylong.ThepressurefromMarge’shandmakesherbodythirstforair.Charliecriesoutfrombeneaththehandkerchiefasthefumesfillhernose,hermouth,herlungs.
Everythingbeginstofade.Marge’sfaceandthestoreroomandevenherthoughts.Ashersurroundingsonceagainevaporate,Charliemanagesonesinglethought,spurredbywhatMargejustsaid.
He’sworkingforme.
CharliethinksitmeansthatJoshisn’ttheCampusKiller.
Or,atleast,he’snottheonlyone.
EXT.DINERPARKINGLOT—NIGHT
Fifteenminuteslater,Charlieshufflesoutofthedinerstillwoozyfromthechloroform,whichlingersfarlongerthanamovieinhermind.Thoseshesnapsoutofalmostinstantly.Butthechloroformtakesitsweettimetogoaway.Rightnow,onlyhalfofherworldhasreturned.Justwhat’sdirectlyinfrontofher.Everythingonherperipheryisstilloutoffocus.Nothingbutshiftingblurs.
Butshe’sawareofMargedirectlybehindher,holdingthepistolatthesmallofherback.TheendofthebarrelknocksagainstCharlie’sspineastheymove,awkwardly,towardMarge’sCadillac.
Whenshecametointhestoreroom,Charliefoundherselfinastandingposition,proppedagainstashelflikeamummyondisplay.Anaptdescription,seeinghowshehasagainbeenwrappedwithrope.Thistimeit’saroundherankles,bindingthemcloselytogether,hencetheshuffle.
Herwristsarealsotied,forcinghertoholdherforearmsawkwardlytogetherinfrontofher.Margeclearlyhadn’tsearchedher,otherwiseshewouldhavefoundJosh’shandcuffsstillinthefrontpocketofCharlie’sjeansandusedthoseinstead.ItwouldhavebeenmorecomfortableforCharlie—eventhoughshesuspectsmakinghercomfortableisn’tsomethingonMarge’sagenda.
Inadditiontothegun,Margealsosportsablackparkathrownonoverheruniform.Hangingfromhershoulderisabulkysatchel.Whatever’sinsideclangstogetherastheywalkaroundtherearofthecar.Charliealsohearsacrunchingsoundbeneathherfeet.Whenshelooksdown,shespotsbitsofredglassscatteredacrosstheparkinglotsurface.
“Getin,”Margesaysassheopensthereardooronthepassengerside.
Charliestaresattheinsideofthecarandthinksaboutrunning.Sheknowsit’snotpossible.Notwithherlegsandarmstiedliketheyare.Evenifitwere,Margecouldeasilyputabulletinherback.
YetCharlieconsidersitallthesame.
JustspringingawayfromMarge,hopingtheoldwomanisalousyshotandsomehowmissesherasshehopsoutoftheparkinglotandintotheroad,notstoppinguntilshereachesthehighway.Surelysomeonewouldstopforher.AtruckdriveroracoplikeOfficerTomorsomeonecominghomefromthelateshift.SomeGoodSamaritanwho’dslamonthebrakesassoonastheyspottedherhobblingalongtheroad’sshoulder,panicwritlargeinhereyes.
Charliepausesbesidethecar,doingthemath,gaugingtoseehowquicklyshemightbeabletodoit.
Itdoesn’ttakeherlongtodeducethatit’simpossible.
Evenifittakesheronlytensecondstogetoutoftheparkinglot,sheknowsMargecanusethosesametenpreciousticksoftimetojumpintothecar,starttheengine,andmakechase.EvenifittookMargeminutes—one,five,ten—CharliewouldstillbeshufflingdownDeadRiverRoad,withnoguaranteeofstumblinguponakindlymotorist.Especiallyatthishour.
“Getin,”Margesaysagain,thistimenudgingherwiththegunbarrel.
Charliedoes,withmuchreluctanceandevenmorestruggle.Withherarmstied,she’sforcedtoturnaround,bendatthewaist,andslideinside.Shethentwistsherlegsuntilshe’scompletelyinthecar,leaningawkwardlyagainstthebackseat.
Margeshutsthedoor,roundsthefrontofthecar,andslidesbehindthewheel.Beforeturningthekey,shehitsthebuttonthatlocksallthedoors.
Charlieistrapped.Again.
Theyleavetheparkinglotquickly,tireskickingupgravelasMargeswervesontotheroad,headingtowardthehighway.
Charlielooksoutthewindow,spottingthesamescenerytheGrandAmpassedwhensheandJoshtraveledtothedinerfromtheoppositedirection.Thatwastwohoursago,andshe’snowinadifferentcarwithadifferentcaptor.
Theonlythingthatremainsthesameisherfear.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
RobbiewatchesthedentedCadillacleavetheparkinglot.Sincehedoesn’twantthewaitresstoknowhe’sfollowingher,hisplanistolethergainalittlebitofdistancebeforegoingafterher.
Itshouldn’tbehardtokeepup.Therearen’tanyothercarsontheroad,foronething.Thenthere’sthefactthatheknockedoutoneofhertaillightsintheparkinglot,atrickhelearnedthankstoCharlie.Itwasinamovieshe’dmadehimwatch.Ablack-and-whiteonefromthefortiesthatmostlyboredhim.Butherememberedthetaillighttrick,andthebrokenonenowwinksathimastheCaddyglidesdowntheroad.
Itwasn’teasygettingtothedinerasfastashedid.Aftersprintingoutofhisapartment,RobbiegotinhisVolvoandhightailedittoI-80.Ontheinterstate,hedrovelikeabatoutofhell,notcaringifhegotpulledover.Infact,hehopedthathewould,thinkinghemightgetapoliceescortoutofit.
Hedidn’tknowwhattoexpectoncehegottotheSkylineGrille.He’dhopedtofindtheplaceopenandbustlingandCharlieenjoyingamilkshake,thewholethingacompletemisunderstanding.Instead,thedinerwasclosedandtheonlypersonaroundseemedtobethatwaitress,whoclearlyhadbeenlying.Inthespanofafewsentences,shetoldhimthatCharliehadsaidgoodbyewhensheleftandthatshehadn’tseenherdepart.
Soafterbreakinghertaillight,hedecidedtodriveafewhundredyardsuptheroadandwait,thefrontofthedinerstillwithinview.Hewantedtoseethewaitressleave.Hethoughthe’dfollowher,askherafewmorequestions,getthepoliceinvolvedifnecessary.Notthatthepolicehadbeenusefulthefirsttimehecalledthem.Consideringthewaythatdispatcherbrushedhimoff,hedoubtedacopeverstoppedbythediner.
Whichiswhyhesatinhiscar,theengineoffbutthekeysstillintheignition,watchingforthewaitress.WhatRobbiedidn’texpectwastoseeCharliewithher,beingledoutofthedinerlikeadeathrowinmateheadingtothegaschamber.Itwassuchanawfulsightthathealmostjumpedoutofthecarandrantorescueher.
Butthenhesawthegunthewaitresswaspointingatherbackanddecidedthatrunningwastheworstthinghecoulddoatthemoment.AsCharliegotintothebackofthecar,Robbietriedtogetagoodlookather.Althoughitwashardtotellfromsuchadistanceandinthemiddleofthenight,shedidn’tappeartohavebeenphysicallyharmed.
Hehopesitstaysthatway.
Whathedoesn’tunderstand—andhasn’tsincethemomentCharliecalledhim—iswhatthehellhappenedbetweentheuniversityandhere.WhatlittleshetoldhimonthephonesuggestedithadsomethingtodowiththeguyCharliehadgottenaridewith.
Josh.
Robbiethinksthatwasthenameshehadmentioned.
Buthesawnosignofanyguywhenhepeekedintothedinerasthewaitresswaslyingtohim.NordiditlookliketherewasanyoneelseinsidetheCadillacasitspedoutoftheparkinglot.
HecanonlyassumethatthisJosh—whoeverheisandwhereverhemightbenow—isworkingwiththewaitress.
WhattheywantwithCharlie,however,isimpossibletoknow.
NotuntilRobbiegetstowhereveritistheCadillacisheading.
Upahead,thebrokentaillightdisappearsbelowthehorizon.Timetomove.Robbiequicklystartsthecar,putsitingear,andbeginstofollow.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Hedrivestowardthediner,eventhoughwhathe’sdoingdoesn’treallyqualifyasdrivingatall.It’smerelyrollingandsteeringatthesametime.Andhe’sdoingashitjobofit.MovingdownDeadRiverRoadatasnail’space,hecanbarelymanagetokeeptheGrandAminsidethelane.
Thestabwoundistoblame.Eachtimehepressesapedalorshiftsgears,painflaresalonghisside,makingitfeellikeeverythingfromshouldertokneeisonfire.
Atleastthebleeding’sstopped,thankstohisstitchjob,thegauzepad,andanabundanceofmedicaltape.Crisscrossingthegauzemultipletimes,thetapehassearedtohisskin,pullingitwheneverhemovesandcreatinganother,morepinchinglayerofpain.
It’sstillbetterthanwhathefeltwhilesewinghimselfbackup.He’sbeenstitchedupplentyoftimes.That’snothingnew.AndbackwhenhewasstillonactivedutyandservinginBeirut,circumstancesforcedhimtogivestitchestoothers.Buthe’sneverhadtodobothatthesametimebefore.
Itwasn’tpretty.
Whenyou’reabouttohurtyourself,yournervessendasignaltothebrainthattellsyoutostopdoingwhateveritisthat’scausingthepain.
Simple.
Notsosimpleisforcingyourselftodoitanyway,nomatterwhatyourbraintellsyou,knowingyou’reabouttocauseyourselfaworldofhurt.Hepausedastheneedlewentinandpausedasitwentout,repeatingtheprocessfivetimesbeforethecutinhissidewasfullyclosed.
Nowhe’sdriving.
Ortryingto.
HeadingtotheSkylineGrilleinsteadofahospital,whichiswherehereallyshouldbegoing.Buthedoesn’tlikehospitals.He’snotafanofallthequestionstheyaskintheER.Andthefirstonehe’llgetwhentheytakeonelookathisamateurishlystitched,overlytapedwoundis“Whostabbedyou?”
Becauseofthat,he’dratherskipthehospitalfornow.
Theremaycomeatimetomorrowwhenhecan’tavoidit.Ifthatmomentcomes,he’llbesuretomakeupsomeexcuseastohowhetookasteakknifetothegut.HehasnoplanstomentionCharlie.Thatwouldn’tbewise.
Soit’sofftothediner,driftingoutofthelanewitheachlineofpainthatburnsuphisside.Heneedstogettothedinerbecausethat’swhereMargeis.It’salsolikelyCharlie’slocation,consideringhowthere’sreallynowhereelsetogoaroundtheseparts.
JusttheSkylineGrille.
TheplacewhereCharliewassupposedtohavestayed.
Thatwastheplan,atleast.Findher,getherintothecarbyanymeanspossible,andtakehertothediner.Done,done,anddone.
Onceatthediner,whenMargecametotaketheirorder,hegavethesignalthatCharlie,nostrangertocodewordsherself,didn’tnotice.
What’syourblue-platespecial?
Translation:Thisisthegirl.
TherestdependedonMarge’sresponse.Ifshehadtoldhim,“Wedon’tdothathere.What’sprintedonthemenuiswhatwegot,”itmeantthateverythingwascalledoff.Instead,shesaid,“Salisburysteak.”WhichmeantthateverythingwasstillagoandthatheshouldleaveCharlieatthediner.
Whatdefinitelywasn’tpartoftheplanwasMargepurposefullyspillingteaonCharliesothetwoofthemcouldhaveamomentalone.Heknowswhyshedidit.Shedidn’tthinkhewasdoingagoodenoughjobandthatCharliemightactinunpredictablewaysbecauseofit.
Turnsoutshewasright.
Hecertainlydidn’tpredictCharlieplayingthatdamnsongonthejukebox,revealingsheknewifnoteverything,thenatleastenough.Norcouldhehaveforeseenthatshe’dinsistongettingbackintothecarwithhim.Heonlyagreedtoitbecauseheknewhecouldeasilybringherbackinafewminutes.Besides,itseemedbetterthanjusttakingoffwhileshewasstillinthebathroomandneverseeingheragain.Hethoughtitmightbenicetodrivealittleandchatabitmore.Apropergoodbyebeforeheslappedonthecuffs.
ThenCharliestabbedhimandnowhe’sgotfivehomemadestitchesinhisside,tapetuggingathisskin,andasweatshirtcrunchywithdriedblood.
Somuchforapropergoodbye.
Whenthedinercomesintoviewahalf-miledowntheroad,heseesthattheplaceisdarkandthattheparkinglotisempty.Yetthere’sstillanunusualamountoftrafficforthisroadatthishour.AbouthalfwaybetweentheGrandAmandthedinerisaVolvosittingontheroad’sshoulder,itsheadlightsoffandtheenginestill.Farinthedistance,acarwithabrokentaillighttravelsinthedirectionoftheon-ramptotheinterstate.
HepoundsthebrakesandcutstheGrandAm’sownlights,curioustoseewhathappensnext.
Whenthecarwiththebrokentaillightfadesfromview,theVolvocomestolifeandedgesontotheroad.Asitdrivesoffinthesamedirectionastheothercar,hespotsanOlyphantUniversitystickerontherearbumper.
Theboyfriend,heassumes.
HeretorescueCharlie.
Anotherassumptionhemakesisthatthisboyfriendofhersdidn’tcomeallthiswayjusttotailsomerandomcar.ThatmeanstheonewiththebrokentaillightisMarge,withCharlieintow.
Heallowshimselfapain-tingedsmile.
Maybehe’llgethisgoodbyeafterall.
HewaitsuntiltheVolvoisagooddistanceawaybeforeflickingontheGrandAm’sheadlightsagain.Thenheresumesdriving.Forrealthistime,eventhoughhisrolling-and-steeringapproachhurtfarless.Hegritshisteeth,gripsthesteeringwheel,andenduresthepain.
There’snootherchoice.HeknowsthatheneedstokeepupwiththeVolvoandthatthisnight,alreadyaclusterfucktobeginwith,justgotalotmorecomplicated.
INT.CADILLAC—NIGHT
Charlie’sworldisstillblurredattheedges,eventhoughthechloroformhasallwornoff.TheblurrinessnowiscausedbytheCadillac’sspeed.Everythingoutthewindow—treesmostly,butalsooccasionalclearingsandemptylots—passesbyinstreaksofgray.
Shedoesn’tknowwhereMargeistakingher.Nordoessheknowwheretheyareanymore.Charliethoughttheywereheadedforthehighway,butMargeblewrightthroughtheinterchangethatwouldhavetakenthemthere,makingitjustanothergraystreak.
NowCharlieislefttofearfullywondernotonlywherethey’regoingbutwhatwillhappentoheroncetheyarrive.It’sthesamefeelingshegotduringherfirsttimeridingawayfromthediner.Terrifiedandconfusedandalmostillwithunease.Tornbetweenwantingtokeepdrivingforeverandjustgettingtotheending.
Themaindifferencebetweenthetwosituations,otherthanthepersonbehindthewheel,isthatthenCharliehadaweapon.Nowshehasnothing.
Charlielooksatherhands,stainedpinkwithblood.Yes,she’sawarethatJoshmightstillbealiveandthatshehadactedinself-defense.Itdoesn’tchangethefactthatshewillinglydroveaknifeintoanotherlivingperson,andshefearsthememoryofthatactionwillstaywithherfortherestofherlife.
Makingitworseisknowingthatasingleflashofviolencedidn’tchangeathing.She’sstillbeingheldcaptive,andJoshisstillinvolvedsomehow.Margeneversaidmoreaboutthat—andhasn’tsaidanythingsincegettingintothecar—leavingCharlietowonderwhatthatmeans.Thescenariosshe’sthoughtupareasplentifulastheyaredisturbing.Nowshe’snotsurewhichfrightenshermore:what’salreadyhappenedorwhat’syettocome.
Inthefrontseat,Margecontinuestodriveinsilence.Sheseemstobelostinherownworldasshegripsthewheelandstaresoutatthedarkroadahead.Shedoesn’tevensneakanoccasionalglanceintherearviewmirrortocheckonCharlie.
NotthatCharliecangoanywheretieduplikethiswithallthedoorslocked.Allshecandoissitinfear,herarmsandlegsstrainingagainsttheirbindsasshewatchesMargedrivethemtoonlyGodknowswhere.
“Whereareyoutakingme?”shesays,angrierthanMargeprobablylikes.Shecan’thelpit.Astingingsenseofbetrayalstreaksherfear.ShehadlikedMarge.Shetrustedher.Charliehadthoughtofheraskindandgrandmotherly—nottoodifferentfromNanaNorma.Asaresult,Charliehadgoneoutofherwaytoprotectherwhensheshouldhavebeenfocusingonherownsafety.
WhenMargedoesn’tanswer,Charlietriesagain.“Tellmewhyyou’redoingthis!”
Stillnoanswer.TheonlysignthatMargecanevenhearherisameanlooksheflashesCharlieintherearviewmirror.Ascowl,butangrier.
AnotherthingCharliecanseeisachangeinMarge’shair.Thathighhairdonowsitsslightlyaskewatopherskull.
Awig.
ItshiftsagainwhenMargeabruptlycutsthewheeltotheleft,veeringtheCadillacontoasideroadhalf-hiddenbytrees.Upahead,Charlieseesalargesigndominatingtheroadside.Twospotlightssitbeneathit,bothofthemdark.Still,there’senoughmoonlightforhertomakeoutwhatitsays.
MountainOasisLodge.
Charlierecognizesthename.It’sthesamelodgethatwasonthebillboardtheypassedontheinterstate.Likethatraggedbillboard,thesignhasseenbetterdays.The“O”inOasisismissing,leavingonlyaphantomletterstandingoutagainstthesun-bleachedpaintaroundit.
Beyondthesign,achainlieslimpacrosstheroad.Attachedtoit,lyingflatagainsttheground,isanothersign.
NOTRESPASSING
Margekeepsdriving,tirescrunchingoverthechain.
Theforestisthickhere—adenseexpanseofevergreensthatclimbthemountainside.Throughthetrees,Charliegetsglimpsesofalargestructureperchedhalfwayupthemountainside.Accompanyingthemisthewhooshofrushingwaterfromsomewherenearby.SoontheforestclearsandtheMountainOasisLodgestandsbeforetheminallitsdecrepitglory.
Thebillboardontheinterstatedidn’tdoitjustice.
Thelodgeisbig.Anungainlystackofwindows,walls,andexposedtimbersthatstretchesfivestoriesfromstonefoundationtoslateroof.Itsitsatoparidge,balancedprecariously,likeasetofLincolnLogsabouttocrumble.Nexttoit,awidecreekflowspasttheeasternsideofthelodgebeforetumblingoveracliffintoaravinefiftyfeetbelow.
Itwasallprobablybeautifulonce.Nowitjustlookseerie.Sittingdarkandsilentatoptheridge,paleinthemoonlight,thelodgeremindsCharlieofamausoleum.Onefilledwithghosts.
Duringtheapproach,thecarcrossesabridgespanningtheravineatthebaseofthewaterfall.Thebridgeisnarrow,withonlyalowwoodenrailingtopreventcarsfromcrashingintothedrink,andsoclosetothewaterfallthatsprayfromthecascadespattersthewindshieldastheypass.Charlielooksoutthewindowandseesdarkwaterswirlingroughlytenfeetbelowthem.
Ontheothersideofthebridge,theroadbeginsitsascent,takingapathsotwisteditmightaswellhavebeencarvedbyanapplepeeler.Takingturnafterwindingturn,theCadillacslowlyclimbsthemountainside.
Insteadofanotherwoodenrailing,onebendintheroadthatcomesclosetothewaterfallislinedbyafieldstonewallthatfollowsthecurve.WhenMargesteersthroughit,morespraysmacksthewindows.
Aftertwomoresharpturns,theCaddyreachesthetopoftheridge.Theretheroadbendsagain,thistimecurvingintoaloopdirectlyinfrontofthelodge.Initsheyday,theremusthavebeenaconstantstreamofcarscirclingthisroundabout.Nowit’sjustthem,pullingunderanentranceportico,whereMargeslamsthebrakesandcutstheengine.
“Whyarewehere?”Charliesays.
“Totalk.”
Margescratchesherscalp,twofingersburrowingbeneaththewig,makingitslipbackandforthatopherhead.Ratherthanstraightenitagain,sheyanksoffthewigandtossesitintothepassengerseat,whereitsitsinafurryclumplikeadeadanimal.Marge’snaturalhairisbonewhiteandsproutsfromherscalpinthin,thistlypatchesamillimeterhigh.
“You’resick,”Charliesays,shiftingtones,hopingsympathywillsoftenMarge.
Itdoesn’t.Margegruntsoutasingle,bitterlaughandsays,“Noshit.”
“Cancer?”
“Stagefour.”
“Howlongdoyouhave?”Charliesays.
“Thedoctorsaysweeks,maybe.Twomonths,ifI’mlucky.Asifanyofthisislucky.”
DespitebeingatwhatCharlieassumestobetheirfinaldestination,Margemakesnomovetoleavethecar.Charliehopesitmeansshe’shavingsecondthoughtsaboutdoingwhateveritisshehasplanned,possiblybecausethey’reengagedinconversationandnotlockedinsilence.Shetakesitasasigntokeeptalking.
“Howlonghaveyouhadit?”
“Alongtime,apparently,”Margesays.“Whenthedoctorscaughtitisadifferentstory.”
“Isthatwhyyou’redoingthis?Becauseyouknowyoudon’thavemuchtimeleft?”
“No,”Margesays.“I’mdoingitbecauseIknowIcangetawaywithit.”
Shethrowsopenthecardoorandstepsoutside,takingthesatchelbutleavingthewig.Shethengoestotheothersideofthecarandopensthereardoor,aimingthepistolatCharlie’stempleassheslidesout.
WiththepistolagainatCharlie’sback,Margemarcheshertothelodge’sentrance—atallsetofmahoganydoorsinlaidwithtwinwindowsofstainedglass.
“Nudgeitopen,”Margeinstructs.“It’salreadyunlocked.”
Charlieuseshershouldertopushthedoorsopen.Beyondthemistotaldarkness.
“Stepinside,”Margesays.
Again,Charliedoesasshe’stold.Sheknowsnottotrytoputupafight.BecauseMargeisright—shecangetawaywithanythingshewants.She’sterminallyill.Alreadysentencedtodeath.
AndifCharlie’slearnedanythingfromthemovies,it’sthatfewthingsaremoredangerousthansomeonewithnothingtolose.
INT.LODGELOBBY—NIGHT
Insidethelodge,allisdark.Charliecanonlyseewhat’simmediatelybeyondtherectangleofpalemoonlightspillingthroughtheopendoor.Still,shecantellthelobbyisasbigasthelodge’sexteriorsuggests.Everyfootfallontheparquetfloorechoestotheceilinghighabove.
Thewholeplacereeksofneglect,theodorsinsideheightenedbythedarkness.Thesmellofdustisthickandoverpowering.Thereareotherscents,too.Mold.Damp.Tracesofanimalsthathavegotteninside.Charlie’snosetwitches.Shetriestoscratchit,butherrangeofmotionisuselessthankstotheropearoundherwrists.
Behindher,Margerustlesthroughthesatchel,neverpointingthepistolawayfromCharlie.Eventually,shepullsoutalargeflashlightandflicksiton.Asthelightsweepsacrossthelobby,Charliecatchesquickglancesofdust-streakedfloor,unadornedwalls,supporttimbersvanishingintothegloomabovethem.
MargenudgesthepistolintoCharlie’sback,movingthemtowardtherearofthelobby.There’sanotherentrancethere—asetofFrenchdoorsflankedbyrowsoftallwindows.TheglassontheFrenchdoorsisopaquewithdirtonbothsides.DrapescoverthewindowsnexttotheFrenchdoors,pulledcompletelyshut,theirfabricturnedgrayandfuzzybydust.Theresultissuchascarcityoflightthatitmightaswellbeanotherwall.
Theareahasalreadybeenpreparedfortheirarrival.Intheglowoftheflashlight,Charlieseesalargecanvasdropclothspreadoverthefloor.Atopitsitawoodenchair,astool,andtwokerosenelanterns.
Margedropsthesatchelonthefloor,doesmoreshufflingthroughthecontentsinside,andpullsoutaboxofmatches,whichsheusestolightthetwolanterns.Theircombinedglowbrightensthelobbyconsiderably,revealingamassivespacemadeallthemorecavernousbyhowemptyitis.WhatCharlieassumeshadoncebeenfilledwitharmchairs,pottedplants,andguestsbustlingaboutisnowawideexpanseofnothing.
Totheright,thefrontdesksitsdust-coveredandunused.Behinditarebarepatchesonthewallwherepaintingshadoncehung.Aloungesitstotheleft,nowemptysaveforanoakbarandemerald-coloredlightingfixturesthathangoverspaceswheretablesmusthavebeen.
Closertothebackofthelobby,thefrontdeskandloungegivewaytowidehallsthatleadtothelodge’stwowings,oneoneachside.Charlietriestolookdowneachone,searchingforameansofescape,butshecan’tseebeyondtheirentrances.Evenwiththeflickeringglowofthelanterns,they’renothingbuttunnelsofdarkness.
Marge,apparentlytiredofriflingthroughthesatchel,dumpsitsremainingcontentsintoaclatteringpileonthecanvasdropcloth.
There’sthebottleofchloroform,ofcourse,andtheragalreadyusedtoapplyit.
What’sworsearetheotheritemsnowspreadoutonthefloor.
Aknife.
BiggerthantheoneCharliehadusedonJosh.
Acarvingknife.
Margeremovesitfromitsleathersheath,exposingawidebladeandanedgesosharpitlookslikeitcouldslicebone.
Shesetsitdownnexttoapairofslip-jointpliers.
Charlie’sbodyclenchesatthesightofthem,hermusclessparkingwiththeurgetorun.
Shedoesn’tcarethatMargestillholdsthegunandthatrunningisimpossibleandthatshedoesn’tknowwheretorunevenifshecould.
AllCharlieandhertwitchingbodyandracingbraincareaboutisgettingaway.
Now.
Rightnow.
ShemakesabreakforitasMargestillkneelsonthefloor,headingtowardthenearestexit.
TheFrenchdoors.
Charliejackrabbitstowardthem,hopingthey’reunlocked,preparedtosmashthroughthemifthey’renot.Whensheslamsintothem,thedoorsrattlebutdon’topen.Sheramsashoulderintothem.Apaneofglasspopsoutandshatterstothegroundoutside.
Throughtheopensquareitleftbehind,Charlieseesastonewalkway,adrainedswimmingpool,loungechairsstackedlikefirewood.Shedoesn’tknowifthewalkwayleadstoanotherpartofthelodge,butshedoesn’tcare.Anywhereisbetterthanhere.
Charlietriestothrowherselfintothedooragain,butMargeisuponherbeforeshegetsthechance.ShetugsonthecollarofCharlie’scoat,pullingherbackward,yankinghertothefloor.
AslapofpainhitsCharlieasherheadbouncesoffthecanvas-coveredfloor.Whitespotsfloatacrosshervision,obscuringthesightofMargeclimbingontopofher,surprisinglystrongandshockinglyheavy.
Throughthewhitespots,CharlieseesMargetipthechloroformbottleagainsttheragbeforeclampingitoverhernoseandmouth.
Morewhitespots.
Gathering.
Growing.
SoonCharliecanseenothingbutwhiteasthechloroformcastsitsspell.Margedoesn’tkeeptheclothoverherfacelongenoughtoknockheroutcompletely.Itonlymakesherweak.Aragdollbeingdraggedacrossthefloor.
Charliefeelsherbodybeingliftedintothechair.Moreropeiswoundaroundhertorsoandthebackofthechair,holdingherinplace.Thewhitespotsstarttofadeonebyone,likestarsatdawn.BythetimeCharliecanseeclearlyagain,she’sbeencompletelyboundtothechair.
Margestandsinfrontofher,thepistolreplacedbythepliers.
FearspreadslikelavainCharlie’schest.
“Whoareyou,andwhyareyoudoingthis?”
“Itoldyou,”Margesays.“We’reheretotalk.”
“Aboutwhat?”
MargelowersherselfontothestoolinfrontofCharlie.There’sahardnesstoherthatgoesbeyondherspindlybody.It’sinthesetofherjawandthefrownetchedonherlipsandthedarknessofhereyes.
“Iwanttotalk,”shesays,“aboutmygranddaughter.”
TWOA.M.
INT.GRANDAM—NIGHT
Driving—honest-to-goodnessdriving—hastakenatollonhim.He’sasweaty,pain-wrackedmessbythetimehereachestheentrancetotheMountainOasisLodge.Sittinginthecarnexttothesignwiththemissing“O,”hewantsnothingmorethanawarmbed,acoldbeer,andacoupleofExtraStrengthTylenol.
Heresumesdrivingbecausehedoesn’tlikethesituation.MargetoldhimallshewantedtodowithCharliewastalk.Well,youdon’tneedtobringsomeonetoanabandonedhotelinthePoconostotalk.Theycouldhavedonethatinthediner.
Evenifitwaseasiertotalkinanotherlocation,there’snogoodreasonthatCharlie’sboyfriendfelttheneedtosurreptitiouslyfollowthemthere.TheVolvopassedthesignaminuteago,goingslow,itsheadlightsouttokeepMargefromnoticingit.
Somethingelseisgoingonhere,andhefeelstheneedtocheckitout.
HeowesittoCharlie.
Shewouldn’tbehereifithadn’tbeenforhisliesandtricksandhalf-truths.Noneofwhichhe’sproudof.Itwasallpartofthejob.Atleast,that’swhathetoldhimselfwhentryingtojustifyit.Butthetruthisthatnoneofitwaskosher.Heknewthatbutignoredit.
Becausethejobwassimple.
That’swhatMargetoldhimwhentheyspokeonthephone.Shehadcalledhimoutoftheblue,sayingshegothisnamefromafriendwhosebrotherisacopinScrantonandthathecamehighlyrecommended.
“Neverletamangetawayfrommeyet,”hesaid.
“Howaboutawoman?”Margesaid.
“Plentyofthemhavegottenawayfromme,”he’dsaid,tryingtomakeajokeabouthiswoefuldatinghistory.
Margehadn’tfounditfunny.
“Thisone’syoung.Twenty.Sheshouldn’tbeaproblem.Youthinkyoucanhelp?”
“Iusuallyonlytrackdownfugitives,”hetoldher.“Attherequestoflawenforcement.Whatyou’retalkingaboutsoundsalotlikekidnapping.”
“Iprefertothinkofitaschaperoning.”
HewouldhavehungupifMargehadn’tthengivenheroffer.Twentythousanddollars.Halfofitwiredtohimbeforehandwiththerestpaidupondelivery.Godhelphim,hecouldn’tsaynotothat.Businesshadbeenslowthewholesummerandhissavingsaccountwasalldriedup.Hewasamonthbehindonhismostrecentcarpaymentandwouldbeshortonrentattheendofthemonthifanotherjobdidn’tcomehisway.
“Givemethedetails,”hesaid.
Margetoldhimaboutthemurderofhergranddaughteratthehandsofaserialkiller,sparingnoneofthegorydetails.Stabbed.Toothpulled.Bodydumpedinafield.
“I’mnevergoingtoseejusticedone,”shesaid.“NotwhileI’malive.UnlessIgettotalktooneparticularperson.”
Thatpersonwashergranddaughter’sbestfriend,whohadseenthekillerbutcouldn’trecallasinglethingabouthim.
“Youthinkshe’slying?”Joshsaid.
“Ithinkshejustneedssomeonetojoghermemory,”Margereplied.
Thetrouble,accordingtoher,wasthatthegirlhadmadeherselfscarce.Shehadn’tcometothefuneral,andshenolongeransweredherphone.
“Ineedyoutofindherandbringhertome,”Margesaid.“IwanttoseeifshecanrememberanythingthatmighthelpfindthemanwhokilledmyMaddy.”
“Don’tyouthinkthat’sajobforthepolice?”
Margesniffed.“I’mpreparedtogiveyoutwentygrandtomakethatnoneofyourbusiness.”
Heagreed,andtherestishistory.Thejobturnedouttobenotsosimple,andCharliewasaproblem,albeitonehecan’tkeephimselffromadmiring.Nowhe’sdrivingoveranotrespassingsignintoasituationhe’sreallynotphysicallyormentallypreparedfor.
LikeCharlie’sboyfriend,hecutstheGrandAm’sheadlightsandletsthewanlightofthemoonguidehim.Notthebestidea.Whentakingthecaracrossabridgeinfrontofawaterfall,aboltofpainhits,causinghimtoswerveclosetothewoodenguardrailandalmostcrashintotheravine.
Withthebridgebehindhim,hebeginstheslow,twistingdriveupthehilltothelodge.Hisbodyswayswitheachhairpinturn,thestitchesinhissidestraining.Atthetopofthehill,heparkstheGrandAmjustinsidethecirculardriveleadingtothefrontofthelodgeandcutstheengine.BoththeCadillacandtheVolvobelongingtoCharlie’sboyfriendarealsothere,parkedundertheportico,nooneinsidethem.
Beforeleavingthecar,hegrabsthesteakknifeCharliehadstabbedhimwith.It’ssatonthefloorofthepassengersidetheentiredrive,stillwetwithhisblood.Hewipesitcleanwithhissweatshirt.
Knifeinhand,hegetsoutofthecar,unsureofwhatwillbewaitingforhimwhenheentersthelodge.
Theonlythingheknowsisthatit’shisfaultCharlie’sinthispredicament.
Andnowit’shisjobtogetherout.
INT.LODGELOBBY—NIGHT
CharliestaresatMarge,realizationbubblingupfromtheaddleddepthsofherbrain.Nowondershethoughttherewassomethingfamiliaraboutthewaitresswhenshefirstcametotheirtable.Charliehadseenherbeforetonight.Notinperson,butinaphotograph.AyounglookerposingpoolsidewithBobHope.
“You’reMee-Maw,”shesays.
“Weneverhadthepleasureofmeeting,”Margesays.“ButIheardallaboutyou,Charlie.MyMaddytalkedalotaboutyou.Shesaidyouwereasmartcookie.Iwarnedheraboutthat.Itoldher,‘Watchoutforthesmartones,babydoll.Theyknowhowtohurtyou.’AndIwasright.”
ButCharliewasn’tsmart.NotwhenitcametoMaddy.Shewasdevoted.Exceptforthatonetime.
Andthatwasallittook.
Oneslip.Onepissymood.Onemistake.
Andeverythingchanged.
Nowshe’sbeingheldhostagebyawomanwhowantstodoGodknowswhat,andallCharliecanthinkisthatshedeservesallofit.
“I’msosorry,”shesays.
It’snotaplea.Shedoesn’texpectthreewordstogiveMargeachangeofheart.It’sjustasimplestatement,madewithallthesincerityshepossesses.
“Mygranddaughter’sdead,”Margereplies.“Sorrydoesn’tmeanshit.”
“Ilovedher,too,”Charliesays.
Margeshakesherhead.“Notenough.”
“AndJosh—Imean,Jake.IsherelatedtoMaddy,too?”
“Him?”Margesaysassheabsentlyscratcheshertuftedscalp.“HewasjustsomeoneIhiredtogetyouhere.Neverlaideyesonhimuntiltonight.He’snotmyresponsibility.”
SheglancesatthestainonCharlie’scoatwhereshehadwipedJosh’sbloodfromherhands.Whenfresh,ithadblendedinwiththeredofthefabric.Nowdry,itstandsout,darkandincriminating.SeeingitcausesCharlie’sstomachtochurn.
Shestabbedaninnocentman.
Shelikelykilledhim.
Knowingthatshethoughtitwasinself-defensenolongermatters.
Sheisamurderer.
“Thatcoatofyoursusedtobemine,bytheway,”Margesays.“IgaveittoMaddywhensheturnedsixteen.It’showIknewwhoyouwerethemomentyouwalkedintothediner.”
Charlieremembersbeinginthebathroom,watchingasMargecheckedthecoat’slabel.Atthetime,shethoughtthewaitresswaslookingtoseeifitcouldbereplaced.NowsheknowsthatMargewasreallyjustconfirmingheridentity.
“Youcanhaveitback,”Charliesays,eventhoughit’stheonlythingshehastorememberMaddyby.“Iwantyoutohaveit.”
“I’dratherhavemygranddaughterback,”Margesays.“Doyouknowwhatit’sliketoburysomeoneyoulove,Charlie?”
“Yes.”
Charlieknowsitalltoowell.Thosetwincaskets.Thoseside-by-sidegraves.Thatdoublefuneralthatshewassounequippedtohandlethatitrewiredherbrain.Everymovieinhermindcanbetracedbacktothathorriblemomentintime,andnoamountoflittleorangepillswillchangethat.
“IthoughtIdid,”Margesays.“Iburiedmyhusband,andithurtlikehell.ButnothingpreparedmeforlosingMaddy.Otherthanadoctorandanurse,Iwasthefirstpersontoholdher.Didsheevertellyouthat?Herfather—thatdeadbeat—wasalreadyoutofthepicture,soIwastherewhenshewasborn.Shecameoutascreaming,wrigglingmess,butwhenthenurseputherinmyarms,allIsawwasherbeauty.Inadarkworld,shewaslight.Brightandblazing.Andthenshewassnuffedout.Justlikethat.”
Margesnapsherfingers,andthesoundechoeslikeagunshotthroughthecavernouslobby.
“Mydaughterwentthroughabadspell.There’snodenyingthat.ShewasmessedupafterMaddywasborn,soItookontheburdenofraisingher.ForthefirstfouryearsofMaddy’slife,Iwashermother.Andthatkindofbond?Itnevergoesaway.Ever.”
Shegrabstheknifeandholdsitup,bringingitsoclosethatCharliecanseeherreflectionintheblade.
“WhenIfoundoutMaddywasdead,itfeltlikesomeonehadjammedthiskniferightintomyheartandpluckeditout.Thepain.Itwastoomuch.”
Charliethinksaboutfourdaysago.Fillinghercuppedpalmwithlittlewhitepills.Swallowingthemall.WatchingGeneKellytwirlintherainashereyelidsgrewheavy.Allthewhilehopingthatitwouldbringanendtoeveryrottenthingshewasfeeling.
“Ifeltthatway,too,”shesays.“Iwantedtodie.”
“Well,Iamdying,”Margesays.“Whoeverfirstsaidlife’sabitch,hooboy,theyreallynailedit.Lifeisabitch.Anastyone.BecausethatfeelingIhad?Ofwantingtobeputoutofmymisery?ThatwentawaythedayweburiedMaddy.AsIwatchedthemlowerherintotheground,somethinginmejustsnapped.Initsplacewasrage.Likewhoeverhadyankedoutmyhearthadpluggedtheholeleftbehindwithahotcoal.Itburned.AndIwelcomedthefeeling.AfterweputMaddyintheground,Ilookedatmydaughter—myonlychild,whohadjustburiedheronlychild.IlookedatherandvowedthatIwouldmakethepersonresponsiblepayforwhatthey’ddone.IsworethatIwasgoingtofindwhokilledmyMaddy.Iwasgoingtofindthemandripatoothoutoftheirmouth,justlikewhattheydidtoher.Andthattoothwouldbecomemymostcherishedpossessionbecauseitwasproof.Proofthatthepersonwhoslaughteredmygranddaughtergotthejusticetheydeserved.”
MargepausestostareatCharlie.Shestaresback,knowingthey’realike.Twowomenmademadbygrief.
“TheironyisthatassoonasIfoundsomesenseofpurposeagain,Igotacallfromthedoctortellingmeaboutthecancer,”Margesays.“Mydaughter’sindenial.Shekeepssayingamiraclecanhappen.Butthat’sbullshit.There’snomiraclecomingmyway.Mytime’salmostup.Whichiswhyyou’rehere.”
Shelowerstheknifeandpicksupthepliers,lettingCharlieknowexactlywhatthisisabout.
Revenge.
Thesamekindshehadfantasizedaboutgettingduringthosesleeplessnightswhenbothangerandthoselittleorangepillskeptherawake.ItneveroccurredtoCharliethatsomeoneelsewhohadknownandlovedMaddywouldhavethatsamethirstforrevenge.
Andthatshe’dbeonthereceivingendofit.
YetCharliealsounderstands.SincesheblamedherselfforwhathappenedtoMaddy,it’snaturalforMargetodothesame.AndsinceCharlie,atthelowestpointofherguiltandgrief,hadtriedtoenditall,itmakestwistedsensethatMargewouldwanttoendheraswell.
“You’vebroughtmeheretokillme,haven’tyou?”
Charlie’samazedathowcalmshesounds,consideringallthefearchurninginsideher.It’showshefeltasJoshdrovethemawayfromthediner.Acombinationofterrorandinevitability.
Acceptance.
That’swhatCharliethinkshascomeoverher.Agrimunderstandingthatthisisthewaythingsaregoingtoend.
“No,sweetie,”Margesays.“I’mhereforinformation.”
Heranswerdoesn’tmakeCharliefeelanybetter.NordoesthewayMargeflexesthepliersinfrontofher,openingandclosingthemlikeahungrybird’sbeak.
“Idon’tknowanything,”Charliesays.
“Yes,youdo,”Margesays.“Youwerethere.Yousawthemanwhokilledmygranddaughter.Nowyou’regoingtotellmewhoheis.”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Youknowsomething.Yousawsomething.Evenifyoudon’tthinkyoudid.Maddytoldmeallaboutthat,youknow.Yourdelusions.Howyousometimesseethingsthataren’tthere.ButthemanwhokilledMaddy,hewasthere.Hewasreal.Andyoureyessawhim,evenifyourbrainsawsomethingelse.”MargetapsCharlie’sforehead.“Thatinformation’sintheresomewhere.You’regoingtogiveittome.EvenifIhavetopryitoutmyself.”
“Maddywouldn’twantyoutodothis.”
Margeflashesheranotherdarklook.“Maybenot.Butshe’snolongerwithus,thankstoyou.Now,I’mgoingtoaskyouafewquestionsaboutwhatyousawthatnight.Andifthere’ssomethingyoudon’tthinkyouremember,well,I’llmakeyouremember.”
Charliestaresatthepliers,stillopeningandclosing.Theymakealittleclickingsoundeachtimetheyconnect.
Click.
Pause.
Click.
“We’llstartwithaneasyone,”Margesays.“Justtogetthatmemorygoing.Wereyouwithmygranddaughterthenightshewaskilled?”
“Yes,”Charliesays.“Iwas.”
“Where?”
“Abar.Ididn’twanttogo,butMaddyinsisted.”
“Whydidsheinsist?”Margesays.“Iknowthere’sareason.”
“Becauseshedidn’tliketowalkalone.”
“Yetthat’swhatsheendedupdoing,isn’tit?”Margesayswithacuriousheadtilt,asifshedoesn’talreadyhavetheanswer.
“Shedid,”Charliesays,knowingnottolie.Ifanything’sgoingtogetheroutofthis,it’llbethetruth.
“Whyisthat?”
“BecauseIleftherthere.”
“Allalone,”Margesays,notbotheringtophraseitlikeaquestion.It’safact.OneCharliehastriedtograpplewithforthepasttwomonths.
“Iregretit,”shesays,hervoicebreaking.“Iregretitsomuch.AndifIcouldgobackandchangeit,Iwould.”
“Butyoucan’t,”Margesays.“Ithappened,andyouhavetolivewiththat.Thisisyourrealitynow.”
Charlieunderstandsthat.Somuchsothatshewishesshecouldescapeintothemoviesthisinstant.Shelongsforthesoothingdistractionofafilm—evenonethat’sjustinhermind.Ifshecould,she’dsummonone,takingherawayfromhercurrentstateofuncertainty,fear,and,shesuspectsveryshortly,pain.Butthat’snothowtheywork.Eveniftheprojectorinherminddoesclickon,itwon’tchangetherealitythatMargeintendstohurther.
Themoviescan’tsavehernow.
“Whatdidyoutellmygranddaughterbeforeyouleftherallalone?”Margesays
Charlieswallowshard,stalling.Shedoesn’twanttosaythewordsaloud.NotbecauseshefearswhatMargewilldotoherwhenshedoes—althoughCharliefearsthatplenty.Shewantstostaysilentbecauseshedoesn’twanttohearthemagain.Shedoesn’twanttoberemindedofherlastwordstoherbestfriend.
“Goon,”Margesays.“Tellme.”
“ThepolicealreadytoldyouwhatIsaid.”
“Iwanttohearitfromyou.IwanttoheartheexactwordsyousaidtoMaddy.”
“I—”Charlieswallowsagain,herthroattightandhermouthdry.“Itoldhertofuckoff.”
Foralongtime,Margesaysnothing.There’sjustsilence,thickinthedarknessofthelobby.TheonlythingsCharliehearsarethepliersopeningandclosing
Click.
Pause.
Click.
“Forthat,”Margefinallysays,“Ishouldripyourtongueout.Butthenyouwouldn’tbeabletotellmeaboutthemaninthealley.Whatdidhelooklike?”
Charlietwistsinthechair.“Pleasedon’tdothis.”
“Answerthequestion,sweetie,”Margesays,holdingthepliersopennow,thespacebetweenthetipsexactlythesizeofoneofCharlie’sbackteeth.“It’llbeeasierforbothofusifyoudo.”
“Ididn’tgetagoodlookathim,”Charliesays.
“Butyousawhim.”
“Isawafigmentofmyimagination.Itwasdifferentthantherealthing.”
“Ormaybeitwasthesame.”
“Itwasn’t,”Charliesays.“Helookedlikesomethingoutofamovie.Heworeahat.”
Margeleansincloser.“Whatkind?”
“Afedora.”
“Andhisclothes?”
Charliecloseshereyes,silentlybegginghermemorytoconjurewhatshesawthatnight.Notthemovieinhermind,buttherealityshefailedtocomprehend.Nothingcomestoher.Allsheseesisthesamedarkfigurethat’shauntedherfortwomonths.
“Ididn’tseethem.”
“Yes,youdid,”Margesays,angriernow.AnangersopalpableCharliecanfeelitinherbones.“Nowremember.”
“Ican’t.”Charlie’svoiceisadesperaterasp.“Ican’tremember.”
“ThenI’mgoingtomakeyou.”
Margelungesforher.CharliebucksinthechairasMargedrawsnear.Itslegsrattleagainstthefloor,creakingfromthestrain.ButCharliecan’tforceherselffromtherestraints.
Notlikethis.
NotwithMargeuponhernow,pliersinhand,thetipsstillopeningandclosing.
Charliecloseshereyesand,inalast-ditchmovetosaveherself,thrustsallherweighttotheleft,tryingtotopplethechair,eventhoughtheeffortisfutile.Hertoothcanjustaseasilybeyankedoutwhileshe’sonthefloor.
Margeusesonehandtosteadythechair.TheothershovesthepliersbetweenCharlie’slipswithouthesitation.Charlieturnsherhead,butthetipsofthepliershookthecornerofhermouth,likeshe’safishcaughtonaline.Margekeepsupthepressure,firsttwistingthepliersthenknockingthemagainstCharlie’steeth.
AscreamformsinCharlie’slungs,fillingthem.Shedoesn’twanttoscream.Sheknowsitwon’thelp.Yethereitisanyway,risinginherchest,chokingitswayupherthroat,partingherjaws.
Margefindstheopeningandstuffsthepliersthroughit.
Charliebitesdownonthem,herteethgrindingagainstmetal.
Margetugsonthehandles.
Thepliersopen,partingCharlie’sjawlikeacarjack.
Shetriestoscreamagain,butthepliersareinsidehermouthnow,snappingopenandshutuntiltheyclosearoundhertongue.
Insteadofascream,anothersounderuptsfromCharlie’sthroat—astrange,grotesquegruntthatcontinuesastheridgedinsidesofthepliersdigintohertongueandMargekeepspulling,pulling,pulling.SohardCharliefearsshe’llriphertonguerightout.Thepainitcreatescausesmorewhitespots,andCharlieknowstheirappearancemeansshe’sgoingtopassoutagain.Notfromchloroformbutfrompain.
ThepliersslipfromhertonguewithanagonizingraspandlatchontoamolaratthebackofCharlie’smouth.Margeyanks,andCharlieletsoutanotherbrutalgruntthat’squicklydrownedoutbythepliersscrapingtoothenamel.Ahorriblesoundthatechoesagainsttheinsideofherskull.
Butthenanothernoisecomes.
Distant.
Glassshatteringfromsomewhereelseinthelodge.
Margehearsit,too,forthepliersreleasehertoothandgoslackinsideCharlie’smouth.
There’smorenoisenow.Adooropeningsomewhereandacrunchofglass.
Margelooksbehindthem.Shedropstheplierstothefloorandremovesthepistolfromherapronpocket.Then,withoutspeaking,shestands,grabsoneofthelanterns,andleavestofindthesourceofthenoise.
Charlie—inpain,boundtothechair,whitespotsstillswirlingacrosshervision—canonlywatchasMargevanishesdownoneofthelodge’stwowings.Theglowofthelanternshecarriesformsabubbleoflightaroundher.Itisn’tuntilbothMargeandthebrightnessturnacorneranddisappearthatCharlieseessomeoneelse.
Afigureemergingfromthedarknessintheoppositedirection.
Josh.
SeeinghimpromptsadozendisparatethoughtsinCharlie’shead.Astonishmentthathe’sthere.Reliefthathe’salive.Worryaboutwhathemightdotoherinretaliationforstabbinghim.
Halfofhissweatshirtiscrustedwithblood.Theotherhalflooksdampwithsweat.Joshmovestowardher,thestabwoundmakingonlyhalfhisbodyworkproperly.Theotherhalfdragsbehindhim.Still,whenhishalf-good,half-limpingformdrawsnear,Charlieflinches.
Afterwhatshedidtohim,sheexpectstheworst.
ButallJoshdoesisscanthelobbybeforewhispering,“Whereisshe?”
CharliejerksherheadtowardthewingMargedisappeareddown.
Joshputshishandsonhershoulders,almostasifcheckingforsignsofdamage.“Areyouokay?Didshehurtyou?”
Notaneasyquestiontoanswer.Thethrobbingpaininsidehermouthwherethepliershadscrapedandclawedtellsherthatyes,Margehurther.Butnotasmuchasshecouldhave.Notyet.Tosavetime—andtospareherachingmouth—Charliejustshakesherhead.
“Good,”Joshsays.
Hepullssomethingoutofhispocket.
Theknife.
ThesameoneCharliehadplungedintohisside.
Unlikeher,Joshputsittobetterusebycuttingthroughtheropewoundaroundherwrists.Hedoesitcarefully,sawingthroughtheropeinawaythatwon’tcuther.Charliecan’tbelievewhatshe’sseeing.
Joshissavingher.
Usingtheveryknifeshetriedtokillhimwith.
“I’mgettingyououtofhere,”hesaysastheropebindingCharlie’swristsfinallyfallsaway.
Joshmovesbehindher,tryingtoundotheropewoundaroundhertorsoandthechair.
“I’msorry,”Charliesays,relievedtofindthatthepaininhermouthlessenswhenshespeaks.“I’msorryforwhatIdidtoyou.”
“I’mtheonewho’ssorry.Inevershouldhaveletyougetintomycar.Shetoldmeshejustwantedtotalktoyou.Ididn’tknowshewasgoingtodosomethinglikethis.”
“AndIdidn’tknowyouwerea—”
“Bountyhunter?”Joshsays.“Ifiguredthat.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
“BecauseIcouldn’t.You’renotafugitive.Andthiswasn’talawenforcementgig.You’rejustacollegestudentsomeoldladyhiredmetobringtoadinerinthemiddleoffuckingnowhere.AprivatejobItookbecauseIneededthemoney.Icouldlosemylicenseifanyonefoundout.”
“Soeverythingyousaidinthecar—”
“Wasalljustawaytogetyouhereaseasilyaspossible,”Joshsays.“Iwasneverplanningtohurtyou,Charlie.Usingforcewouldhavebeenalastresort.SoIhadtogetcreative.Butmessingwithyourheadlikethatwasashittythingtodo,andI’msorry.”
Charliewouldhavebeenlessforgivingundernormalcircumstances.Butit’shardtostaymadwhentheropearoundherarmsdropsawayfromthechairandintoherlap.Becauseherhandsarefree,Joshletshertrytounloopitfromaroundherashecomesaroundfrontagainandstartssawingatthetiesaroundherankles.
He’salmostthroughonestrandwhenCharlienoticestheglowofalanternoverhisshoulder.
Marge.
Shestandsontheothersideofthecanvasdropcloth,kerosenelanterninonehand,pistolintheother.
SeeingJoshthere,abouttosetCharlielooseandruinherplan,breakssomethinginsidethewoman’sgrief-rattledpsyche.Charlieseesithappening.Aninternalsnappingthatjerksherwholebody.
Andbeforeitpasses,Margeraisesthegun,aims,andfires.
EXT.LODGE—NIGHT
Robbiealmostusedthefrontdoors.AfterquietlysteeringhisVolvotoastopbehindthedentedCadillac,heintendedtojuststormintothebuilding,tacklethatoldwaitressifnecessary,andretrieveCharlie.
Butthenhethoughtaboutthegun.
Heknowsthewaitresshasone.HesawitpokingagainstCharlie’sbackoutsidethediner.
Andhe’swatchedenoughmovieswithCharlietoknowthingsusuallydon’tendwellforcharacterswhosimplyburstthroughthefrontdoor.Especiallyifthebadguyhasagun.AndsincetheonlyweaponRobbiehasisthesametireironhe’dusedtoknockouttheCaddy’staillight,heoptedforanalternativeroute.
Nowheclambersthroughthewoodstotherightofthelodge.Hisplanistofindabackwayintothebuildingthatwilllethimsneakuponthewaitress.Butthissideofthebuildingisn’tlandscaped.It’sjustastripofrocky,tree-chokedterrainsittingbetweenthelodgeitselfandtherushingcreekthatleadstothenearbywaterfall,whichisdeafeninginitsroar.Robbiecan’thearanythingelse,whichisgoodinthatitmasksthesoundofhisapproachbutbadinthatitdoesthesametoanyonewhomightbetryingtosneakuponhim.
Thedarknessdoesn’thelp.Thetreesherearemostlyevergreenswithfullbranchesthatblotoutthemoonlightandcrowdthegroundwithshadow.Wearingonlysneakers,Robbie’sfeetslipoftenonthesnowthathadfallenearlier.Neveragoodthingwhenyou’remereyardsfromwater.Onefalsestepcouldsendhimtumblingintothecreek,atwhichpointitwouldbeover.Sure,Robbiewasthestaroftheswimteamandnowacoach,butnotevenanOlympicgoldmedalistwouldbeabletooverpowerthepullofthatwaterfall.
Ashetrudgesthroughthesnowandthedark,alwayskeepinganeyeontherapidstohisright,Robbieknowsitwouldhavebeeneasiertousethepayphonehesawoutsidethedinertocallthepolice.
Italsowouldhavebeenfoolish.
He’dalreadytriedcallingthepoliceonce,andthatdidn’thelp.Thenthere’sthefactthat,hadhewaitedinthedinerparkinglotforthecopstoarrive,he’dhavenoideawherethewaitresshadtakenCharlie.Hecertainlywouldn’thaveknownthisplaceexistedifhehadn’tfollowedtheCadillachere.
Makinghiswaytotherearofthelodge,Robbieknowsdeepdownthathemadetherightdecision.It’sbetterforhimtobehere,wherehecanactuallydosomething,thanbackatthediner,waitingforcopswhomayormaynotbelievehim.
Buthealsoknowsheneedstobecautious.Notjustinhismovements,butinhisthinking.He’sasmartguy.He’sstudyingtobeamathprofessor,forGod’ssake.Hecandeducehiswayoutofthis.Slowandsteady.Thatalwayswinstherace.
Butthenanoiseeruptsfromdeepinsidethelodge.
Agunshot.
Robbie’ssureofit.
Noteventheangryroarofthefallscandisguisethatsound.
Hearingit,heknowsinstantlythatslowandsteadyarenolongergoingtocutit.
Heneedstobefast.
Andeventhenitmightalreadybetoolate.
INT.LODGELOBBY—NIGHT
Intheechochamberofthelobby,thegunshotisasloudasafirecracker.
It’sfollowedbyasplatofbloodhotonCharlie’sfaceandagruntfromJosh.
Soft.Surprised.
Heliststotherightandhitsthefloorwithathudthatsoundsnothinglikethewayabodylandsinthemovies.It’sapitifulnoise.Bothsoftandloudatthesametime.Likeasackoflaundrylandingonabed.
CharlielooksdownandseesJoshfacedownonthefloor,abulletholeandwideningsplotchofbloodintheshoulderofhissweatshirt.Morebloodoozesoutfromunderhim,soakingintothecanvasdropcloth.
Frantic,Charliebendsforwardandtugsattheropearoundherankles.SheneedstohelpJosh.Ifhe’snotalreadybeyondhelp.Hedoesn’tmovewhenshelookshisway,nordoeshemakeasound.
Ontheothersideofthecanvas,Margestandswiththepistolstillraised.Herfaceisamaskofsurprise,asifshe,too,can’tbelievewhatshe’sjustdone.LikeJoshbeforeher,sheleansprecariouslytotheside.
Althoughshemanagestoremainupright,thelanterninherhandfallsfromhergripandsmashesontothefloor.
Kerosenespillsfromthetoppledlantern.Aquicksilverstreamthattwistsacrossthecanvas.
Itmakesitallthewaytothedrapesatthewindowsbeforethefirearrives.Atfirst,it’sastreakofblueflamesrushingoverthepathlaidoutbythekerosene.Thefirestartstogloworangeasitdigsintothecanvas,forgingitsownpathoverthedropclothand,soon,thedrapes.
Theyigniteinaninstant,theflamesclimbingthefabrictowardtheceiling.Withinseconds,allthedrapesareengulfed.Onesetfallsaway,droppingtothefloorinaflutteroffire,smoke,andash.
Anewfirespringsupwhereitlands,spreadingacrossthedropcloth.Onceit’scheweditswaytotheedgeofthecanvas,itgetstoworkontheparquetfloor
Whenanothersectionofdrapesfalls,athirdpatchoffireforms,withthesameresult.
Charlieknowsit’lljustkeephappeninguntilthatwholeareaandbeyondareengulfedinflame.Andwhenthefirereachestheotherkerosenelantern,thesituationwillgofrombadtoworse.
LookingtoJosh,Charlieseesagrowingwalloffirerollinghisway.
“Helpus!”sheyellstoMarge,who’sbackedawayfromtheflames,stunned.
Lostinadaze,Margeeitherdoesn’thearherorrefusestolisten.
CharliepullsthefinalbitofropefromherlegsandgoestoJosh,whoremainssilentandmotionless.Withoutthinking,shegrabshimbytheanklesandbeginstodraghimawayfromthefire.Theirprogressismarkedbyastreakofbloodonthecanvasthat’squicklydevouredbytheflamestrailingthem.
Soonthey’reoffthedropclothandslidingacrossthelobby’sparquetfloor.Notsafefromtheflames.Farfromit.Butaway,whichisallthatmattersrightnow.
Margehasalsomadeherwaytowardthefrontofthelobby,staringatthegrowingfirewithanagonizedlook.Thepistol’sstillinherhand,stillextended,andforasurrealmomentCharliethinksshe’sgoingtotrytoshootattheflames.ButthenMargeswivels,aimingthegunrightather.
Charlieraisesherhands.
“Please,”shesays.“Pleasedon’tdothis.Heneedshelp.”
Offtotheside,thefiregetslarger.Boththechairandthestoolnowburn,flamesleapingfromthespotwhereCharliehadbeensittingminutesearlier.Allbutonesetofdrapeshasfallenawayfromthewindows,revealingmoreflamesreflectedintheglassandmakingtheblazeseemevenbigger.Smokespiralstowardtheceiling,accumulatingatthepeakedroofandexposedbeams.
Charlieseesallthatwoodaboveandthinksonething:thisfireisonlygoingtocontinuetogrow.
“Please,”shetellsMarge.“Letmego.Letusbothgo.”
Charliethinksshemightbegettingthroughtoher.Margelooksgenuinelytornoverwhattodo.Sheevenstartstolowerherarm,thegunbarreltiltingtowardthefloor.
Butthenthelastofthedrapesfalls,takingthecurtainrodwithit.Anendoftherodsmashesthroughthewindow,andthesoundofshatteredglassmakesMargechangehermind.Again,Charlieseesit.Anotherinternalsnap.
Sheraisesthepistol.
AsMargepullsthetrigger,Charliefeelsahandwraparoundherankle,jerkingherdownward.Shehitsthefloorasthebulletpassesoverhead,inchesaway.BesideherisJosh.
Stillalive.
Eyesopen.
Mouthopeningtoformasingleword.
“Run.”
INT.LODGE—NIGHT
Charliesprintstowardthefirstplaceshesees:oneofthelodge’sunlitwings,theentrancehazywithsmoke.Shehurtlesthroughit,hackingoutacoughbeforethrowingherselfintotheunknownblackvoidofthehallway.
Oncethere,shehurriesthroughthedarkness,stilltwistedupinrope.Alengthofitclingstoherwaistandflapsbehindherassheruns.Shedoesn’tknowwhat’sdownthishallway.Awayfromthefierylobby,shecan’tseeathing.Sheletsinstinctbeherguide,hopingitdoesn’tfailher.
Thewallofwindowscontinueshere,theircurtainsshuttight.Charliesensesthemrustlinginherwakeasshemoves.Andalthoughthey’restillintactfornow,sheknowsit’sjustamatteroftimebeforetheflamesalsoreachthem.
Thewholelodgeisgoingtoburn.
There’snodoubtaboutthat.
ForCharlie,theonlyquestionisifshecanfindawayoutbeforeitdoes.
OrbeforeMargecatchesuptoher.
Charliedidn’tstickaroundtoseeifMargefollowedherdownthispartofthelodge.Shedoesn’tthinkso.Sheassumesshe’dsenseapresence.
Sosheruns.
Blind.
Armsthrustoutinfrontofher,fingertipsbrushingthewalls,feelingforadoor.
Shefindsonewherethehallwaymakesasuddenninety-degreeturn,veeringoffinanotherdirectionasCharliekeepsmovingstraightahead,collidingnotwithawallbutwithaswingingdoor.
Notknowingwhereelsetogo,Charliepushesthroughit,intoanotherroom.Thingraylighttricklesthroughasetofdoorsattheotherendoftheroom.Charlieboltstowardit,managingthreelongstridesbeforecollidingwithsomethingcloakedinshadowinthemiddleoftheroom.Sheslamsintoitwithherhip,painrushingupherside.
Charliestops,regroups,takesinsurroundingsthatarebarelyvisibleinthepalelightcomingfromthedoorsacrosstheroom.
She’sinakitchen.Abigone.Likeinarestaurant.There’sawidestovetop,astackofovens,afridgebigenoughtofitthreepeoplestandingup.
Thethingshecollidedwithisanislandinthemiddleoftheroom.Herfear-warmedhandsleavepalmprintsonthestainless-steelsurface.Charlie’swatchingthemdisappearwhenshehearsanoise.
Nearby.
Footsteps.
MovingpurposefullytowardthedoorCharliejustcamethrough.
Sheknowsit’sMarge.Ithastobe.She’scomelookingforherlikeCharlieshouldhaveknownshewould.Shefeelssuddenlyfoolishforthinkingshecouldescapesoeasily.
Charliedropstothefloorandslidesunderthekitchenisland.Holdingherbreath,shelistensasMargeentersthekitchen,thesolesofhershoessqueakingonthefloor.
Squeak.
She’sclosernow.
Squeak.
Closerstill.
Squeak.
Marge’sshoescomeintoview.Whitesneakers.Sensiblewaitressshoes.Thetoeoftheleftoneisspatteredwithblood.
Charliestayscompletelystill,eventhoughherbodybegshertorun.Ifsheremainssilentandmotionless,maybeMargewillthinktheroomisempty.Maybeshe’llgoaway.MaybeCharliecanescape.
ButMargetakesanotherstep.
Squeak.
Andtwomore.
Squeak,squeak.
She’srightbesideCharlienow,theblood-spatteredsneakerinchesfromhernose.Flatonherstomachwithonecheekagainstthefloor,Charlie’sheartthundersinherchestsohardshecanfeelitreverberatethroughthecoldtilebeneathher.
ShefearsMargecansenseit,too,becausethesneakersdon’tmove.Theyremainwheretheyare.Soterrifyinglyclose.
Charliedoesn’tmove.
Shedoesn’tbreathe.
Shestaysthatwayuntilthesneakersmoveon.
Squeak.
Squeak.
Squeak.
Then…nothing.
Afteranotherminuteofsilence,Charlieallowsherselftoexhale.
Aftertwominutes,shemoves.
Andafterfiveminutes,eachsecondcountedoffinherhead,sheslidesoutfromunderthekitchenisland.
Charlierisesintoakneelingposition,intendingtopeerovertheislandattherestofthekitchen.
Thefirstthingsheseesareapairofsneakers,onestainedwithblood.
CharlielooksuptoseeMargesmilingdownatherfromherperchonthekitchenisland.Inherhandsareapairofpliers,drippingblood.
“Foundyou,”shesays.
Charliescreams,backsaway,slamsintoanothercounter.
Asafreshwaveofpaincoursesthroughher,sheseesthatthekitchenislandisempty.
There’snoMarge.
There’snoanyone.
“No,”Charliemutterstoherself.“No,no,no,no.Notnow.Pleasenotnow.”
Butit’stoolate.
It’salreadyhappening.
Attheworstpossiblemoment,themoviesinhermindhavereturned.
INT.BALLROOM—NIGHT
Charlieburststhroughthedoorsontheothersideofthekitchen.
She’sinaballroomnow.
Maybe.
Sheseesmirroredwalls,gilttrim,polishedfloorunderachandelierfestoonedwithcobwebs,fullyawarethatnoneofitcouldbereal.IncludingasetofFrenchdoorsontheothersideoftheroomthatappearstoleadoutside.
Charliehurriestowardthem,watching,waiting,wonderingifit’sallgoingtodisappearandchangeintosomethingelse.
Whenshereachesthecenterofthedancefloor,directlybeneaththechandelier,Charliecatchesherreflectioninoneofthemirroredpanesonthewall.
Amirrorontheothersideoftheroompicksitup.
Areflectionofareflection.
Whichiscaughtontheoriginalwallagain,bouncingyetanotherversionofherselfontothemirroracrossfromit.
Charliestaresatdozensofdifferentversionsofherself.Doingexactlywhatshe’sdoing.Mimickinghermotions.Spinningunderthechandelierliketops.
Shestopsmoving.
TheotherCharliesdothesame.
BecauseMargehasalsoenteredtheballroom.
Charlieseesherinthemirrors.NotjustoneMargebutmany,allpointingthatdainty,retropistolrightather.
AlltheMargespulltheirtriggers.
OneoftheCharliesshattersintoahundredpieces.
Anothershotringsout,thistimeacrosstheballroom,andasecondCharlieishit,aspiderwebofcrackscoveringherface.
Thenanotherisshattered.
Andanother.
CharliemovestotheFrenchdoors.
Fast.
Panting.
Shepushesthroughthedoorsandoutoftheballroom.
EXT.ALLEY—NIGHT
Charliestaggersoutside,trips,tumbleshardontocoldasphalt.
Beforeclimbingtoherfeet,shepeeksthroughtheFrenchdoorsintotheballroomshe’sjustvacated.
Margeisn’tinside.
Theroomisempty.
Allthemirrorsareintact.
Amovie.Justlikeshethought.
ButthenCharliestands,turnsawayfromtheballroom,andherheartstops.
She’soutside,butit’snotthekindofoutsideshethoughtitwouldbe.
Insteadofinthelushwoodlandsthatsurroundthelodge,CharliefindsherselfoutsidethebarshewasatthenightMaddywaskilled.It’sexactlythesame,fromthebeerandpukesmelloutsidetotheCurecoverbandinside.
Andthere,rightinthemiddleofthealley,isMaddy,lookingthewayshedidthelasttimeCharliesawher.
Standingwithadarkfigure.
Bathedinslantingwhitelight.
Headloweredasshelightsacigarette.
Thistime,though,shecastsaglanceCharlie’sway,overtheshadowyman’sshoulder,lookingstraightather.
Thenshesmiles.
Suchaglorioussmile.
Shecouldhavebeenastar,Charlieknows.Shehadthelooksforit.Herbeautywasunconventional,incandescent—perfectforthebigscreen.ButitwasMaddy’spersonalitythatwouldhavesealedthedeal.Shewasbadgeringandblunt,charmingandchaotic.Peoplewhoadmiredsuchtraits—peoplelikeCharlie—wouldhaveadoredher.
Nownoneofitwillhappen,andCharliecan’thelpbutfeelsorryforthosewhomissedout.MostoftheworldnevergottoexperienceMadelineForrester.
ButCharliedid.
Sheexperienceditandloveditandmissesitdearly.
“I’msorry,”shesays,eventhoughsheknowsMaddyisn’treallythere.Herappearanceisjustanothermovieinhermind.Itdoesn’tmatter.Charliestillfeelscompelledtosayit.ThelastwordsshewishesshehadutteredwhenMaddywasstillalive.“Youweren’tanawfulfriend.I’msorryIsaidthat.Ididn’tmeanit.Youwereanamazingfriend.Youmademefeel—”
“Alive?”Maddysays.
“Yes,”Charliesays.
Andnotjustalive.In-a-moviealive,whichisfarsuperiorineveryway.
“Iknow,”Maddysays.“I’vealwaysknown.Rightuntiltheend.”
Themanstandingwithherremainsfrozenintime,stillunknowablewithhisturnedback,bowedhead,handcuppedaroundthelighter’sflame.Charlieknowsthatevenifshestepscloser,likeadirectorenteringtheframe,shewon’tbeabletoseewhathelookslike.He’llbeashadownomatterhowcloseshegets.
Soit’sMaddyshelooksat,sparklinginthespotlight.She’ssobrightthattheshadowyfigureinthefedorafadesaway.Darknessbanishedbylight.
Maddystandsalonenow,ridiculouslytallinherhighheelsandclutchingaVirginiaSlim.
“Doyoumissme?”shesays.
Charlienods,holdingbackatearintheprocess.“Ofcourse.”
“Thenstay.”
Charliewouldlikethat.Ifshecould,she’dliveinthismovieforaslongaspossible.Butsheknowsshecan’t.
“You’renotreal,”shesaystoMaddy.“You’rejustamovieinmymind.”
“Butisn’tthatbetterthanreallife?”
“Itis.ButIneedtoliveintherealworld.”
“Evenifit’sscary?”Maddysays.
“Especiallyifit’sscary.”
Rightnow,sheneedscompleteknowledgeofhersurroundings.Notonlywheresheisbutwhomightbenearby.
Clarity.
That’swhatthesituationrequires.Herlifedependsonit.
“Butthismightbethelasttimeyoueverseeme,”Maddysays.
Charliefeelsmoretearscoming.Shekeepsthematbay,determinedtomakethismake-believegoodbyethecompleteoppositeofthereal-lifeversion.
Noanger.
Notears.
Onlyloveandjoyandappreciation.
“Thenmakeitmemorable,”shesays.
Maddystrikesapose,standinginprofile,onehandonherhip,theotherelegantlyextendedasthesmokecurlsfromthecigarettebetweenherfingers.Itis,Charliethinks,perfect.
“Whatadump!”Maddysays.
Charliesmilesandcloseshereyes,knowingthatwhensheopensthem,Maddywillbegoneforgood.
“IthinkIadoreyou,”shesays.
EXT.LODGEVERANDA—NIGHT
Justasshesuspected,MaddyisgonewhenCharlieopenshereyes.Insteadofinthealley,shefindsherselfonastonewalkwayoutsidetheMountainOasisLodge.Coldnightairslapsherface,bringingmuch-neededclarity.
Themoviesinhermindareover.
Possiblyforgood.
Becauseofthefieldstonebeneathherfeet,Charliesuspectsshe’sneartheverandabehindthelodge.ShesawasimilarwalkwayearlierwhentryingtoescapethroughtheFrenchdoorsinthelobby.Furthercementinghertheoryaredarkplumesofsmokedriftingtowardherfromaroundacornerofthebuilding.Withthemarethesnap,crackle,andpopofsomethingburning.
Sherushesdownthewalkwayandroundsthecorner,thesmokegettingthickerandthesoundofburninglouder.SoonCharlie’satthesamepoolareashespottedearlier,althoughnowitlooksmuchdifferent.
Smokerollsthroughthearea,streaminginfromthenearbylobby.Throughthethroat-chokinghaze,Charliegetsundulatingglimpsesofthewallofwindows.Justbehindthem,largetonguesofflamelickattheair.Fromwhatshecansee,shethinkstheblazehasexpandedtotherestofthelobby.Flamescrawlalongthefrontdeskandscalethesupporttimbersrisingtotheceiling.Inside,apieceoftheroofbreaksfreeandcrashestothefloor,sendingupacloudofsparks.Awallofheathitsher,makingCharlietakeseveralstepsback.
That’swhenshenoticestheFrenchdoors.
They’renotjustbroken,likemostofthewindows.
They’vebeenopened.
AndwhileCharliehopesitwasJoshwhodidit,shesuspectsitwassomeoneelse
Marge.
Outside.
Withher.
Charliemovesbackwardthroughthesmoke,hersneakersshufflingoverthestonewalkwayuntil,suddenly,itdropsaway.
Shespendsamomentteeteringonthelipofaconcreteledge,herarmspinwheelinginadesperatefighttokeepbalance.
Oneofherfeetslips,flyingoutfromunderher.
AscreamescapesCharlie’slipsasshetopples,clawingattheair,fallingintowhatshenowrealizesistheemptyswimmingpool.Shecloseshereyes,bracingforimpactagainstthebottom,butinsteadofherbodyslammingagainstcoldconcrete,Charlielandsinseveralfeetofrainwaterthat’sgatheredatthebottomofthepool.Thewater—blackwithdirt,slickwithalgae—consumesher.
Foramoment,Charlie’slost,unsureifshe’sstillfallingornowfloating.Hereyesareopen,butallisdark.Caughtmid-scream,hermouthisfilledwithwaterandslimeandfilth.Sometricklesdownherthroat,chokingher.
Shestands,emergingfromtheswill,coughingupthepartsofitthatmadeittoherlungs.
Thenshelooksaround.
She’sinthedeepend,standinginaboutfourfeetofwater.Ontheothersideofthepool,aladderclingstotheconcrete,rustedyetusable.
Charliewadestowardit,movingthroughwaterthat’sakintoprimordialooze.Rottingleavesfloatonthesurface.Nearby,adeadmousedoesthesame.
Attheladder,Charliestrugglestoclimbitsrungs.Herhandsaretoowetandthesolesofhershoestooslippery.Addingtothetroubleisherwoolcoat,soddenwithrancidwater.It’sheaviernow,likelead,weighingherdownasshescalestheladder.
Still,sheclimbs.
Feetslippingoffarungonce.
Handsscreechingofftherailingtwice.
Shekeepsclimbinguntilhereyesbreachtheedgeofthepool,revealingthesamestonewalkwaythathaddroppedoutfromunderherearlier.
Charliealsoseessmoke,driftingoverthepoollikelakemist.
Andinthatsmoke,rightatthetopoftheladder,isapairofwhitesneakers.
Althoughthere’snobloodonthem,liketherewasinherimagination,CharlieknowstheybelongtoMargeandthatthistimeit’snotamovieinhermind.
Asecondlater,shefeelsthebarrelofapistolcoldagainstherforehead.
“Keepclimbing,”Margesays.“We’renotdoneyet.”
Shebacksoff,givingCharliejustenoughroomtocresttheladderandstepontothewalkway.Thetwoofthemstareateachother,Charliedrenchedandstreamingdirtywater,Marge’sfacedarkenedbysmoke.
“Where’sJosh?”Charliesays.
“He’ssafe.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
Marge’sshouldersriseandfall.“Idon’tcare.”
Besidethem,alowrumblerisesfrominsidethelodge.Anotherchunkofroof—biggerthanthefirst—crashesdown.Thewalkwayundertheirfeetshakes.Smokeandsparksrolloverthem—awavesodenseitblotsoutCharlie’svisionandmakesherheadswim.
Whenitclears,sheseesMargestillacrossfromher,thepistolnowaimedatherchest.
“AndwhataboutMaddy?”Charliesays,gettingaflashofthemostrecentmovieinhermind.Maddyinfullglamourmode.“Youcareabouther,right?She’dhateitifshesawuslikethis.”
Margestartstospeak,changeshermind,goessilentagain.Shecan’targuewithCharlie’sreasoning.Bothofthemknowit’strue.Ifshewerehere,Maddywouldbesickenedbywhatshesaw.
“Ican’tjustletitgo.Ihavetodosomething.”MargekeepsthepistolpointedatCharlie.“Iswore—”
“Thatyou’dgetrevenge?Hurtingmewon’tdothat.Itwon’tbringMaddyback.She’sgone,andIhatethatfact.Itmakesmesadandangry,butmostofall,Ijustmissher.Imisshersomuch.Justlikeyoudo.”
“Ithurts,”Margesays,hervoicecracking.“Missingher—ithurtssobad.”
“Iknow,”Charliesays.“Ithurtsme,too.”
“Andthisuncertainty.Idon’tknowwhattodowithit.IneedtoknowwhokilledmyMaddy.”
Charliedoes,too.Butshealsoknowslifedoesn’talwaysworkthatway.It’snotthemovies,whereplotsareoftentiedupinatidybow.Intherealworld,youmayneverlearnwhatcausedthecrashthatkilledyourparentsorwhomurderedyourbestfriend.It’shardandithurtsandit’ssounfairthatsometimesitmakesCharliewanttoscream.Butit’slife,andeveryonemustgoonlivingit.
“Letmego,”Charliesays.“Letmegoandwecangetthroughittogether.”
“Ican’t.I’msorry,sweetie.IneedtolearnasmuchasIcan.Thatalldependsonyounow.Youcantellmewhatyousaw—whoyousaw—rightnow.Orwecandoitthehardway.”
Margecocksthepistol.
Behindher,Charlieseessomethingflittingthroughthesmoke.Alightnessamidthedark.
Robbie.
Creepingthroughthesmoke,atireironclutchedinhishand.
Charlie’seyeswiden,tippingMargeofftothepresencebehindher.
AsMargespinsaround,Robbieliftsthetireironandbringsitdownhardagainsthershoulder.
Thegungoesoff.
Ahorriblebang.
Robbiegruntsandfaltersbackward.
Margecollapsesoutright,crumblingtotheground,thepistolfallingfromhergripandskitteringacrossthewalkway.
Charlieswoopsin,picksitup,thrustsitoutinfrontofher.It’sthefirsttimeshe’severheldagun,andshehatesthefeelofitinherhands.Herarmsquake,thegunbarrelunsteadyasshepointsitatMarge.
Behindher,Robbiesitsonthewalkway,hisrighthandpressedtohisleftshoulder.Bloodtricklesoutfrombeneathhispalm.Charliegaspswhensheseesit.
“Areyouhit?”
“Grazed,”Robbiesays.Hestartstoletoutalow,disbelievingchucklebutstopsmidway.Eyeswidening,hegaspsandsays,“Charlie,watchout!”
Charlieinstantlyunderstandswhat’shappening.Margeisonthemove.Atfirst,Charliethinksshe’scomingforthegun.Sheis,butnotinthewayCharlieexpects.
Margecrawlstowardher,notstoppinguntilthepistolisinchesawayfromherforehead.
“Doit,”shesays,lookingupatCharliewithapained,pitifulexpression.“Pullthetrigger.Please.Putmeoutofmymisery.Iwasgoingtodoitanyway.Righthere.Tonight.”
CharliesteadiesthegunandthinksaboutallthedamageMargehascausedthatnight.Shedeservestopayforwhatshe’sdone.Notjusttoher,buttoJoshandtoRobbie.Allinamisguidedquestforinformation.
ThenshethinksofMaddyandherhabitofcallinghermee-mawonthephoneeverySunday.Charliepicturesherdoingit.Sittinginthejadesilkkimonoshepreferredoverabathrobe,thephonecordwoundaroundherfinger,laughingatsomethinghergrandmotherhadjustsaid.Thesamewomanwhomadeherlaughnowkneelsinfrontofher,beggingtodie,andCharliecan’tbringherselftodoit.
“No,”shesays.“Maddywouldn’twantthat.”
Charlietossesthepistolintothepool.Itlandswithasplashanddisappearsintheblackwater.
Margesaysnothing.Shesimplystaresatthespotwherethegunnowrests,avacantlookinhereyes.
Charliemovespasther,goingtoRobbie,whostillhasahandpressedtohisshoulder.Bloodrunsdownhissleeveanddripsfromhiselbow.
“Weneedtogetyoutoahospital,”shesays,helpinghimtohisfeet.
“First,weneedtogetawayfromthisplace.”
Anotherrumbleeruptsfrominsidethelodge,followedbythesoundoftimbercracking.Charlieknowswhatitmeans.Thesupportbeamsholdingupwhat’sleftoftheroomareabouttofall.
Andtheydon’twanttobeherewhenithappens.
Thetwoofthemhurryalongthebackofthebuilding,leavingthewalkwayandenteringthewoodstoputmoredistancebetweenthemandthelodge.Whenitcomestimetoroundthecornerofthebuilding,CharliepauseslongenoughtocheckonMarge.
Shesitsnexttothepool,watchingthefirethatwillinalllikelihoodconsumehershouldthelodgecollapse.
Whichit’sabouttodoinamatterofminutes.
ButMargedoesn’tlookscared.Infact,Charliethinksshelooksatpeace,bathedintheorangeglowoftheflames.Maybeshe’sthinkingaboutMaddy.MaybeMargeevenseesher.Amovieinherownmind.
Charliehopesthat’strue.
SheevenwishesitasRobbiegrabshercoatsleeveandtugsheruntilMargefadesfromview.
THREEA.M.
EXT.LODGE—NIGHT
It’sallsoloud.
That’swhatCharliethinksastheytrudgeoutofthewoodsandheadtoRobbie’sVolvo.
Theroarofthefire.Theroarofthefalls.It’sdeafening,thosetwinsounds,likeapairofbeastsinthethickofbattle.Itevenlookslikethey’refighting.Charlieseestheburninglodgetoherright,thefrothingheadofthefallstoherleft,and,inbetween,aspotwheretherushingcreekreflectstheflames.
Yetthroughthatdin,CharliethinksofJosh.
He’shere.Somewhere.
“WeneedtogetJosh.”
“Who?”Robbiesays.
“TheguyIwasridingwith.He’shere.”
“Where?”
Charliedoesn’tknow.Notwhereheisorevenifhe’sstillalive.Margecouldhavebeenlyingaboutthat.
“Hewasshot,”Charliesays.
“SowasI,”Robbiesays,jerkinghischintowardhiswoundedshoulder.“Andwe’rerunningoutoftime.”
Charlieeyesthefierylodge.Tall,fingerlikeflamesbreakthroughtheroofandreachtowardthesky,bringingwiththemsparksthatpinwheelthroughtheairanddriftdownaroundthemlikepulsingorangeconfetti.
Robbie’sVolvoisparkedrightbehindMarge’sCadillac.Althoughtheporticothecarssitunderremainsuntouchedbyfire,itwon’treallymatterifthelodgecollapses.CharlieknowsRobbieisright.
Theyneedtoleave.
Now.
Atthecar,Robbieleansagainstthehood.
“Areyouokay?”Charlieasks,whenit’sobviousheisn’t.
“I’mfine,”Robbiesaysashehandsherhiscarkeys.“You’regoingtohavetodrive,though.”
Charliehadassumedthat,eventhoughshe’snotinthebestcondition,either.She’sdizzyfromthesmokeandherchestistightandtheflamesandwaterfallaretooloudandshethinksshe’sgoingtofaint.
Still,shedutifullyguidesRobbieintothepassengerseatbeforeroundingthefrontoftheVolvoandslidingbehindthewheel.It’snotuntilshe’sfullyinthedriver’sseatthattherealizationhits.
Shehasn’tdrivensincethedaybeforeherparentswerekilled.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
Fouryears.
That’showlongit’sbeensinceCharliesatinthedriver’sseatofacar.
Fourlongyearswithoutturningasteeringwheelortappingabrake.
That’sabouttoendrightnow.
Ithasto.
Charliecoughs.Asharp,stabbinghackthatmakesherdoubleover.Butshefeelsbetterafterward.Lettingoutthatlastbitofsmokeandbeinginthecar,whereit’scalmandquiet,boostsherconsciousness.She’snolongerdizzy,althoughtheweaknessremains.
Butshecandothis.
There’snothingtobeafraidof.
Drivingacarisjustlikeridingabike.Herfathertoldherthat.
Charliestartsthecar,flinchingatthemuffledroarcreatedbytheenginerumblingtolife.Atthesametime,anotherdeeprumbleemanatesfrominsidethelodge.Nexttoher,Robbiesays,“Charlie,weneedtogetoutofhere.”
Shetouchesherfoottothegaspedal,hittingittoohard.TheVolvolurchesforwardandsmacksintotheCadillac’srearbumper.Thecarshudders.
Sheslamsdownonthebrakes,putstheVolvoinreverse,startsdrivingbackward.Thenit’sbacktodriveagain.Thistime,whenCharliepressesthegaspedal,it’swithmorecaution.Thecareasesforward,lettingCharliesteerpasttheCadillacandoutfromundertheportico.
“Weneedtogetfurtheraway,”Robbiesays.
“I’mtrying.”
Charliekeepsthecarmoving,roundingthecirculardriveinfrontofthelodgeandheadingtowardthetwistingroadthatwilltakethemtothebottomofthewaterfall.Afterthat,Charliehasnoideawheretogo.
“Idon’tknowwhereweare.”
Shehitsthebrakesagain,putsthecarinpark,andreachesfortheglovecompartmentinfrontofRobbie,searchingforamap.Theglovecompartmentdoordropsopen,andasmallboxtumblesout,almostlandinginRobbie’slap.
Hetriestocatchitbutisslowedbyhisgunshotwound.ThatleavesCharlietograbitandpullittowardher.
It’sajewelrybox.
Black.
Hinged.
Bigenoughforasingleengagementring.
HeatspreadsinCharlie’schest.She’dsuspected,backintherecessesofhermind,thatRobbiemighttrytoproposebeforesheleft.Whenhedidn’t,shewasmorerelievedthandisappointed.Guiltyanddepressedandlostinherownworld,shewasn’treadyforsuchacommitment.
Butnow—afterthislong,horriblenight—Charliewondersifshemighthavebeenwrongaboutthat.
“Robbie,I—”
“Wait!”hesays.
ButCharlie’salreadyopeningthebox,excitementbloominginspiteofherself,thehingesoundingoutalightcreakassheliftsthelidandthingsstartrollingoutofitlikedice.That’swhatCharliethinkstheyareasshecupsherhandtocatchthem.
Dice.
Threestartlinglysmalldicethecolorofivory.
It’snotuntilthey’rerattlinginherpalmthatsheunderstandswhattheyreallyare.
Teeth.
AngelaDunleavy’stooth.
TaylorMorrison’stooth.
Maddy’stooth.
“Robbie,whydoyouhavethese?”
Sheknowstheanswer.
RobbietookthemafterkillingAngela.
AndTaylor.
AndMaddy.
StaringatRobbiewithherdeadfriend’stoothstillinherhand,Charliefeelssomethingbreaklooseinsideherchest.
Herheart.
There’snowanemptyspacewhereitusedtobe.Avoid,insideofwhichthesoundofherlastheartbeatstillechoes.Thenit,too,isgone,andshefeelsnothing.
Charliethinksitmeansshe’sdying.Andwouldn’tthatbearelief?Surelybetterthanhavingtoendurethis
Yetsheremainsalive,herheartstillgonebutherheadspinningandastarkacheinhergutthatfeelsliketheinsideofherbodytryingtognawitswayoutside.
Thenausea,whenitcomes,istoofasttostop.Thebilerushesupandout,andsoonCharlieisbentforward,vomitdrippingoffthesteeringwheel.
Shewipeshermouthwiththebackofherhandandsays,“Why?”
Charliesaysitsoftly.Barelyamumble.Sosoftshe’snotsureRobbieevenheardher.Soshesaysitagain,shoutingthistime,thewordsmackingoffthewindowandechoingthroughtheentirecar.
“Why?”
Robbiesaysnothing.Hesimplystaresintotheopenglovecompartment,lookingatsomethingelseinsidethatCharliehadmisseduntilthatmoment.
Apairofpliers.
Driedbloodstainstheirtip.
Seeingitconjuresanimageofthatnightoutsidethebar.RobbieapproachingMaddy,whosmilesbecausesherecognizesafriendlyface.Hecomesinclose,hisheadlowered,handcuppedaroundherlighter.SeeingitissoterribleCharliehastoclosehereyesandshakeherheadtomakeitgoaway.
“Ican’tbelieveIdidn’tknowitwasyou,”shesays,stillshockedandnauseousandwaitingforhermissinghearttofinallystopitsstubbornbeating.“DidyouknowIwasthere?ThatIsawyou?”
“Notuntillater,”Robbiesays,asifthatwillmakeiteasierforhertobear.“ButbythenIknewthatyoualsohadn’treallyseenme.Thatsomethingelsewasgoingoninthatheadofyours.”
Charliedropstheteethbackintojewelryboxandsnapsthelidshut,unabletolookatthemanylonger.Theboxitselfslipsfromherhandsasshewails,“WhyMaddy?”
“Becauseshewastoobrash,”Robbiesays,spittingoutthelastwordlikeit’sacurse.“Alwaysloud.Alwaysdemandingattention.”
“Isthatwhyyoukilledtheothers,too?”shesays.“Becausetheyweretooloud?Toobrash?”
“No.Becausetheythoughttheywerespecial.Theythoughttheydeservedtheattentiontheywereconstantlybeggingfor.Andthey’renotspecial,Charlie.I’vebeenwaitingayearforyoutofigureitout.Mostpeoplearestupidanduselessandpathetic.Andthosedeludedenoughtothinktheyaren’tdeservewhateverpunishmenttheyget.”
Charlierecoilsagainstthedriver’s-sidedoor,terrified.“You’resick.”
“No,”Robbiesays.“Itrulyamspecial.Asareyou.Rememberthenightwemet?Inthelibrary?”
OfcourseCharlieremembers.Itwasherownpersonalromanticcomedy,whichmeansitwaslikelydifferentfromhowsheremembersit.NowshelooksatRobbie,tryingtoseeifsherecognizesanypartofthemansheencounteredthatnight.
Shecan’t.
He’sacompletestrangertohernow.
“IthoughtIwasgoingtokillyouthatnight,”Robbiesays.“Sittingwithyouatthelibrary,thenthediner,thenwalkingyouhome.ThewholetimeIkeptthinkingaboutwhatitwasgoingtofeelliketokillyou.”
Thematter-of-factwayhesaysitfeelslikeapunchtoCharlie’ssolarplexus.Forafewseconds,shecanbarelybreathe.
“Whydidn’tyou?”shesays.
“BecausetherewassomethingaboutyouIwasdrawnto.Youwereso—”
“Innocent?”
Robbieshakeshishead.“Clueless.Youwatchyourmoviesandyouthinkthatmakesyousmart.Likeyouknowthewaytheworldworks.Butallit’sdoneiswarpyourbrain.Youhavenoideawhattheworldislike.”
He’swrongaboutthat.
Charlieknowswhattheworldislike.
Parentsleaveinthemorningandnevercomeback.
Youfightwithyourbestfriendandtellhertofuckoffandthenhavetolivewithknowingthat’sthelastthingyoueversaidtoher,whenwhatyoureallyshouldhavedoneisthankedherforbeingbyyoursideandunderstandingyouandlovingyouforwhoyouare.
Afterseeingtoomuchofthissenseless,brutal,cruelworld—fartoomuchforsomeoneherage—Charliechosetoretreatintootherworlds.Onesthatcan’thurther.
Lifehasfailedhertimeandtimeagain.
Themovieshaveneverletherdown.
“Butthentherewasamomentatthedinerwhenyoucompletelytunedout—justforaminute.That’swhenIknewyouweredifferentfromtheothers.Special.Likeme.”
“I’mnothinglikeyou,”Charliesays,spittingthewords.
Somethingtakesholdofher.
Rage.
ThesamekindMargehadtalkedabout.White-hotandseething.
It’sthekindofragethatmakesCharlie,likeMargebeforeher,wanttodounthinkablethings.TheonlydifferenceisthatMargehaddirecteditatthewrongperson.
NowCharliehasachancetodoitright.
Sheshiftsthecarintodriveandletsitstarttoroll.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Robbiesays.
“Driving.”
“Where?”
“Awayfromhere.”
Charlieglancesintherearviewmirror.Sittinginthebackseat,rightbehindRobbie,isherfather.
“Remember,neverdrivemorethanfivemilesoverthespeedlimit,”hesaysinthatfather-knows-bestvoiceCharliecouldn’tstandwhenhewasalivebutmisseslikecrazynow.“Copswon’tbotheryou.Notforthat.”
Herfatherpauses,lockingeyeswithCharlieintherearviewmirror.
“Butsometimes,”hesays,“sometimesyouronlychoiceistodrivelikehell.”
Charlienods,eventhoughherfather’snotreallyinthebackseat.Evenifitwasjustamovieinhermind,it’sstillgoodadvice.
Asherfather’svoiceechoesinherhead,Charliedoesn’tjustpressdownonthegaspedal.
Shefloorsit.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
TheVolvotakesoffdownthewindingdrivelikeabottlerocket,itsreartiressquealingontheblacktop.
Whenthecarnearsthefirstturn,Charliedoesn’ttapthebrakes.Instead,sheletsthecarkeeppickingupspeedontheapproachbeforecuttingthewheeltotheleftatthelastpossiblemoment.
TheVolvofishtailsaroundthebendbeforeregainingagripontheroadasitstraightens.
“Slowdown,”Robbiesays.
Hereachesforthesteeringwheelwithhislefthand,gettingthebriefestofgripsbeforeCharlieslapsitaway.
“Charlie,slowdown.”
Theyreachanothersharpturn,andCharliedoesthesameasbefore,jerkingthewheel,slidingthroughit,onthethinnestedgeofcontrol.
Thepliersslidefromtheglovecompartmentandplinktothefloor.
ItdistractsCharliejustenoughforRobbietolungeforthesteeringwheelagain.Thistime,hegrabsittight,givingitapull.Thecaralmostjerksofftheroad.
CharlieletsgoofthewheelwithherrighthandandswingsatRobbie,herknucklesconnectingwithhischeekandwhippinghisheadsideways.
“Fuckyou,”shesays.
TheVolvoapproachesathirdturn.Theonewiththestonewallclosetothewaterfall.Theycomeinfast,screamingaroundtheturn,theroaroffallingwaterallaroundthem.Charliecutsthewheelasecondtoolateandthedriver’ssideoftheVolvoscrapesthewall,grindingagainstthestonewall.SparksspraypastCharlie’swindow.
Inthepassengerseat,Robbieyells,“Areyoutryingtokillme?”
“Isn’tthatyourplanforme?”Charliesays.
AlthoughtheVolvoisnowflyingdownastraightsectionofroad,upaheadisthelastbendbeforetheyreachthebridge.Insteadofslowingdown,Charliehitsthegas.
“Tellme,Robbie,”shesays.“Yourplannowistokillme,right?BecauseIknowwhoyouare.Iknowwhatyou’vedone.”
Theturnisclosernow.
Ahundredyardsaway.
Justbeyonditisaclusteroftreessodensethatthecarwillbesmashedtobitsifitcrashesintothem.
“Admitit,”CharlietellsRobbie.
Theturnsitsbeforethem.
Nowfiftyyardsaway.
Nowtwenty-five.
“Admitit!”Charlieshouts.“OrI’mgoingtodrivethiscarstraightintothosefuckingtrees!”
“Yes!”Robbieyelps,grippingthedashboardforsupportasCharliehitsthebrakesand,withadeathgriponthewheel,skidstheVolvoaroundthecorner.
“Yeswhat?”shesays.
“I’mgoingtokillyou.”
Charlieslamsthebrakes.TheVolvoslidestoastop.
WhenRobbiespeaks,hisvoiceisunnervinglycalm.
“Idon’twanttodoit,Charlie,”hesays.“Ineedyoutoknowthat.Iloveyou.Youmightnotbelieveme,butit’strue.AndI’msorryforwhatIhavetodotoyou.Wecouldhavehadawonderfullifetogether.”
Charliecan’tbeartolookathim,soshestaresoutthewindshield.Justdowntheroadisthebridgeatthebaseofthewaterfall.Ashortricketyspancrossingtheravine.Beneathit,blackwaterchurns.It’snothingcomparedtothefearrushingthroughCharlie’sbody.Herterroristwiceasdarkandtwiceasvolatile.
Sheonlythoughtshewasscaredearlier.LeavingthedinerwithJosh.BeingtorturedbyMarge.Thatwasn’tevenafractionofthefearshefeelsnow.
Becausenowshewantstolive.
Reallylive.
ThewayMaddyhadlived.ThewayshehadtriedtogetCharlietodo.MaddysawwhatCharliecouldn’t:thatshehadspentthepastfouryearsbeinganaudiencemembertoherownsadexistence.
Moviesaremylife,shehadtoldJosh.Itshouldhavebeentheotherwayaround.Charlieshouldhavebeenabletosay,Mylifeislikethemovies
Andnowthatsherealizesit,she’sterrifiedRobbieisgoingtotakeawayherchancetodosomethingaboutit.
Withherfistsaroundthesteeringwheelandthecarhummingunderher,Charliestaresatthebridgeovertheravine.Inthatmoment,sheunderstandsthatshe’sinchargeofherowndestiny.
She’sEllenRipley.
She’sLaurieStrode.
She’sClariceStarling.
She’sThelmaandLouise,kickingupdirtinafinalfuck-youastheychoosefreedomoverlife.
Theirchoice.Nooneelse’s.
Nowit’sCharliedoingthechoosing.Robbiecan’tbetheoneincontrol.
Shereachesforherseatbelt,pullsitacrossherchest,snapsitintoplace.
Shetakesadeepbreath.
Thensheslamsthegaspedalagainstthefloor.
TheVolvostreakstowardthebridge,shuddering,outofcontrol.Tiresscreaming.Enginescreaming.Robbiescreaming.Allofitblendingintoasinglescreamthat’sparthuman,partmachine.
Thecarthumpsontothebridge,roaringoverit.
Halfwayacross,CharlieyanksthewheeltotherightandtheVolvocareenstowardthebridge’swoodenrailing.
Asecondlater,thecarsmashesthroughit.
Woodscrapesagainstmetal.Anearsplittingfriction.
Thebridgebeneaththetiresdisappearsandthecarseemstotakeflight,althoughCharlieknowsthatwhatit’sreallydoingisfalling.
Arcingoveroffthebridgeandcrashingtowardthewaterbelow.
Charlielurchesforward,herchestpinnedagainstthesteeringwheelamomentbeforeshe’sjerkedbackwardbytheseatbelt.
Robbie,ontheotherhand,isthrownlikearagdollagainstthedashboard.
Whenthecarhitsthewater,Charlie’sheadsnapsagainstthebackoftheseat.Theimpactsendsashudderthroughherbody.Andasarushofwaterengulfsthecar,awaveofdarknessdoesthesametoCharlieuntilbothsheandthecarsinkbeneathit.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
Wateronthewindshield.
That’swhatCharlieseesassheregainsconsciousness.
Alineofitrunsrightacrosstheglass.Aboveitisnightskyandstreaksofstars.BelowismurkywaterilluminatedbytheVolvo’sheadlights.Charlieguessesit’saboutfifteenfeetdeepandthattheVolvo,pitchedforward,willbereachingthebottomsoonerratherthanlater.Watergushesintothecarfrombelow,alreadyuptoherlap.
Charlielookstothepassengerseat.
Robbie’sstillthere,wideawakeandwatching.Theslamagainstthedashboardhaslefthimbruisedandbleeding.Alargeredmarkcovershalfofhisface.Bloodtricklesfromhisrightnostril.
“Isthiswhatyouwanted?”hesays.“Tokillusboth?”
“No,”Charliesays.“Justyou.”
Sheunhooksherseatbelt,notworriedaboutgettingoutofthecar.Sheknowswhattodo.Waituntilitfillscompletelywithwater,whichaltersthepressureagainstthesideofthecar,thenopenthedoorandswimout.
Sheknowsbecauseshesawitinamovie.
Thewater,uptoherchestnow,keepsrising.Asthecarfills,itmakesaworrisomegroaningsoundandtiltsevenfartherforward.TheVolvo’sheadlightssweepacrossthebottomoftheravinebeforeflickeringandgoingout.
Inthatnewfounddarkness,Charliedoesn’tseeRobbie’sbentelbowcomingrighttowardherface.She’sonlyawareofitafterthefact,whenhiselbowslamsintothebridgeofhernose.
Theblowishard.
Afirecrackerofpain.
Charlie’sheadsmacksagainstthedriver’s-sidewindow.
SheseesstarsasRobbieleapsontopofher.
“Shh,”hesays.“It’llallbeoversoon.”
ThenhegrabsCharliebythehairandshovesherheadunderwater.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
RobbiekeepsCharlie’sheadsubmerged,althoughhedoesn’twanttodoit.Notthis.Nottoher.Notwhileshe’skickingandthrashingandflailingjustbelowthesurface.
She’sspecial.Exactlylikehim—eventhoughsherefusestoadmitit.Andpeoplelikethemarerare.Theyhidetheirspecialnessunderabushel,onlyrevealingittootherswhoarespecial.
RobbiethoughtCharlieknewthis.
Heassumedsheknewtheywerekindredspirits.
Butsomepeopledon’trealizethey’respecial—aproblemRobbieneverhad.Heknewfromanearlyagewhohewas.Agenius.Athletic.Golden.Onelookinthemirroranditwasclearhewasararity.
Charlie,though,isdifferent.Shedoesn’tknowhowblessedsheis.Whatagiftshehas—beingabletodisappearintofantasywheneverrealitygetstoopainful.Peoplewouldpayforthatkindofability.
She’snotlikeKatya,thegirlfromhisneighborhoodwhostruttedupanddownthesidewalklikeshewashotshitwhenshewasreallyjusttrash.Herfamilywasthepoorestintheneighborhood,theirhouseawreck,theparentsalwaysscreamingateachotherinthefrontyard.ButKatyathoughtthatshewasbetterthaneveryoneelse.Itdidn’tmatterthatshewaschubbyandshowedtoomuchskinandwassoloudRobbiecouldhearhercomingfromtwoblocksaway.
Thepolicestillthinksheranawayfromhomebecausehe’dburiedherbodysodeepinthewoodsit’sneverbeenfound.
Charlie’snotlikeAngela,whothrewherselfathimwhileworkingatthatbar.AsifRobbiewouldeverdeigntofucksomeonesoworthless.Specialgirlsdon’tneedtoshowoffintoo-tightshirtsandtoo-highskirts.Togethisattention,theydon’tneedtowritetheirnumberonanapkinandslipitwithawinkintohislap.
Heofferedheraridebacktocampuswhenhershiftwasdone.Aftershewasdead,hetookhertoothbecauseheregrettedburyingKatyasodeepandwantedsomethingtorememberAngelaby.
Charlie’snotlikeTaylor,whomockedhispurchasesatthebookstoresheworkedat,tryingtoflirtbypretendingshewassmarterthanhimwhensheclearlywasn’t.“IbetIreadmorethanyou,”shesaid,asifhecaredawhitaboutanyaspectofherlife.Acommonmistakeamongpeoplewhoaren’tspecial—thatthey’reworthyofcare.
Buthepretendedtobeinterested.Hewaitedaroundaftershecasuallytoldhimhershiftwasendingsoon.Bytheendofthenight,hehadasecondtoothinhiscollection.
AndCharlie’sdefinitelynotlikeMaddy,thatattentionwhore.Fromthemomenthemether,hecouldn’tstandher.Dressinglikethat.Talkinglikethat.Doinganypatheticthingshecouldjusttobenoticed.
ThatRobbiefoundherlikehedidwasahappyaccident.He’dbeenroamingthestreets,lookingashealwaysdidforthosewhowerespeciallikehimandjudgingthemanywhoweren’t.Heheadeddownthealley,luredbytheawfulmusiccomingfrominsidethebar.
Andthereshewas.
Clutchinghergaudypurseandfumblingwithherlighter.
Shewhinedtohimaboutherawfulnight,eventhoughhedidn’tcare.ButthenshementionedCharlie,howthey’dfought,howshewasworriedshe’dfuckeduptheirfriendshipforgood.
ThatwaswhenRobbieknewwhathehadtodo.GetridofMaddy.HaveCharliealltohimself.
He’dspentthepastyeargettingtoknowCharlie,learningfromher,evenlovingher.Hehadplannedtheirlifetogether.Marriage,kids,careers.Theywouldgrowoldandbespecialtogether,andeveryonewouldenvythem.
Withthatinmind,hedidn’thesitatetokillMaddy,evenasshebeggedforherlife.
Butnowit’sledtothis.
Nowhe’smakingCharliegoawayaswell.Hehasnootherchoice.Keepingheraliveistoorisky.Hisspecialnessoutweighshers.
Onesmallconsolationisthathe’llbeabletotakeatooth.SomethingtorememberCharlieby.Thejewelryboxthatcontainstheothersbobsinthewaternearhisshoulders,asifwaitingforanewaddition.
HisrightarmstrainstokeepCharliesubmerged.Hisspinebendsandtwiststokeephisheadabovewater.Hislegspressagainsttheseatandthedashboard,givinghimleverage.
Underthewater,Charliegoesstill.
There’snomorekicking,nomorethrashing,nomoreflailing.
Alliscalm.
ButasRobbiestartstopullhishandaway,somethingcoldclicksaroundhisrightwrist.
Lookingdown,heseesit’snowencircledbyoneendofapairofhandcuffs.
Then,withahorrorsodeepitpierceshissoul,hehearsanotherclick.
INT.VOLVO—NIGHT
Charliehadn’tforgottenaboutJosh’shandcuffs.Theywerealwayspresentinherthoughts,coldandflatinthefrontpocketofherjeans.Shejustdidn’tknowwhen—orhow—tousethem.
Itwasn’tuntilRobbiepushedherunderthewaterthatshefinallyknew.
Andassheclickstheotherendaroundthesteeringwheel,Charlie’sgladshewaited.
Sheemergesfromthewaterintoacarthat’salmostcompletelyfilled.There’sabouteightinchesofairleft.JustenoughforCharlietotiltherheadbackandspeak.
Thesamecan’tbesaidforRobbie.
Thankstothehandcuffs,hecan’tkeephismouthabovethesurface.Thewaterlineisnowevenwithhisnoseasheusesthosebig,Bambieyestostareupather.Merehoursago,thatexpressionwouldhavemeltedCharlie’sheart.Seeingitnow,shefeelsonlyanger.
Robbiekeepslookingather,though,beseeching.It’sclearhethinksshehasakeytothecuffs.
He’swrong.
Evenifshedidknowwherethekeysare,shesureashellwouldn’tusethemtosetRobbiefree.
“ThatwasforMaddy,”Charliesays,knowinghecanstillhearher.
Sheholdsupthepairofpliersshe’dgrabbedoffthefloorwhileunderwater.
“Andthis,”shesays,“isforMarge.”
MORNING
INT.HOSPITAL—DAY
It’squietinsidethehospital.Everyonefromthenursestotheclerkstothevolunteersintheircandycanepinaforesworksinasubduedhush,eventhoughit’snotverybusy.There’sonlyoneothernonemployeeatthehelpdesk—amiddle-agedmanslumpedinachairbythedoorwithavacantlookinhiseyes.Charliehopeshe’sjusttired,butshedoubtsit.Hehastheappearanceofsomeonebackhandedwithbadnews.Charliesuspectsshelooksthesame.
Shehadbeenhereearlier,beforebeingtakentothepolicestation.AfranticambulanceridestraightfromtheMountainOasisLodge—thespeednecessitatedbytheotherpersonintheambulancewithher.
Charlie’sinjurieswereminor.Somescrapes,bruises,andabrokennosefromwhenRobbieelbowedherintheface.Nowafatstripofmedicaltapesitsacrossthebridgeofit.WhenCharliefirstsawitinthemirror,shecouldn’thelpbutsay,tonooneinparticular,“Chinatown.RomanPolanski.Nineteenseventy-four.StarringJackNicholsonandFayeDunaway.”
Thenursewho’ddonethetapingdidn’tgetthereference.
“Youneedtoseeit,”Charlietoldher.“It’saclassic.”
Thenitwasofftothepolicestation,whereshedescribedherlongendurancetestofanight—leavingoutthebitsshedidn’tthinkthecopsneededtoknow.Theyweren’tparticularlyconcernedaboutthedetailsofwhyCharliewasatthelodgeandhowitcaughtfireandwhattheothersweredoingthere.AllthecopsreallycaredaboutwasthattheCampusKillerhadnotonlybeenidentifiedbutthathiscorpsewasfounddriftinginasunkenVolvo,handcuffedtothesteeringwheel.
Charliedidn’tfudgethetruthaboutthat.“Itwasself-defense,”shesaid,andshemeantit.
Mostly.
Inreturnforherinformation,CharliewastoldhowsomeonedrivingalongDeadRiverRoadsawthelodgeinflames,wenttothediner,andcalled911onthesamepayphoneCharliehadusedearlier.Whenfirstrespondersarrived,theyfoundherdrenchedandshiveringonthesideoftheroadleadinguptothelodge.
Charlieendedupbeingthefirstpersontheyfound.Shewasn’tthelast.
It’sthislastpersonshe’sheretosee,havingbeendrivenbacktothehospitalfromthepolicestation.She’sdryforthemostpart,althoughMaddy’scoatisstilldampandindireneedofdrycleaning.Charliecoulduseagoodcleaningherself.Herhairisamess,swimmingpoolswillstillstickstoherinspots,andshesmellslikeawetdogthat’srolledinsomethingdead.
Nowshe’satthedoortoahospitalroom,takingasteadyingbreathbeforeentering.
Inside,Margelaysinahospitalbed,lookingtentimessmallerthanshedidmerehoursago.She’shookeduptoanoxygentank.Acleartuberunsunderhernoseandloopsaroundbothears.
Charliehadhopedshe’dbeasleep,butMargeiswideawakeandproppedupbyseveralpillows.Besideherisatraytable,thebreakfastontopofituntouched.
“Youshouldhavepulledthetrigger,”shesayswhenCharliestepsintotheroom.
Charliestopsafewfeetfromthebed.“Hellotoyou,too.”
“Imeanit,”Margesays.“I’mprobablygoingtodieinthisplace.Imightneverleavethishospitalbed.That’swhatthedoctorsaid.”
“Doctorshavebeenwrongbefore.”
Itwouldn’tsurpriseCharlieifMargestuckaroundforlongerthantwomonths.She’sstillgotsometoughnesstoher.Shemust,orelseshewouldn’thavelastedthroughthenight.Firefightersfoundherstillsittingbytheswimmingpool,longafterthelodgehadcollapsedinonitself.Althoughsufferingfromsmokeinhalation,second-degreeburnsfromflamingdebristhathitherduringthecollapse,andtheonsetofhypothermia,shewasstillkicking.
“I’massumingthepolicecameby,”Charliesays.
“Theydid.Iwassurprisedbywhattheyhadtosay.Ididn’tknowwewenttothelodgejusttoreminisce.Andthatthefirewasanaccident.AndthatIapparentlyhadn’tshotanyone,letalonetwopeople.”
“Whattheydon’tknowwon’thurtthem,”Charliesays.
Margestartstoreply,graspingfortherightwords.Whentheyrefusetoarrive,shesimplysays,“I’msorry.WhatIdidwas—”
“I’mnothereforanapology,”Charliesays.“AndI’msureashellnotheretoseekyourforgiveness.”
Margepeersupather,curious.“Thenwhyareyouhere?”
“Tosaythatwe’resquare.”
Charlieapproachesthetraybesidethebed.Shereachesdeepintoherpocket,pullsoutsomethingsmallandivory,andsetsitdownonthebreakfasttray.
MargestaresatRobbie’stooth,thecornersofhermouthtwitchingupwardintowhatCharliecanonlyguessisasmile.Sinkingbackintothepillows,shecloseshereyesandletsoutalong,satisfiedsigh.
“Goodgirl,”shesays.
INT.HOSPITALROOM—DAY
Charlie’sfinalstopisanotherhospitalroom,justafewdoorsdownthehallfromMarge’s.Unlikeher,Joshissoundasleepandlightlysnoring.
No,notJosh.
Jake.
Truetoherword,Margehadindeedmovedhimsomeplacesafe,dragginghimoutofthelobbyandputtinghiminthebackseatoftheCadillac.Whentheporticofellwiththerestoflodge,theroofoftheCaddybentbutdidn’tbreak.AcoupleoffirefightersfoundhiminsideandunconsciousastheywereloadingCharlieintotheambulance.Joshwasloadedinrightalongwithher.Charlieheldhishandtheentirewaytothehospital.
Nowshesitsbyhisbed,watchinghimsleep.Whenhewakes,hiseyesflutteropeninawaythatCharliecanonlydescribeascinematic.Andeventhoughsheshovedaknifeintohisside,hestillsmileswhenheseesher.Notevenpaincandimthatmegawattgrin.
“Youstabbedme,”hesays.
“Youkidnappedme.”
“Ialsotriedtosaveyou.”
Charliegivesanodofthanks.“Youdid.”
Joshtriestositup,groaningwitheffort.Mostofhisbodyhasbeenwrappedinbandages.Someareforthestabwound.Othersareforthegunshotwound.AndstillothersmightbefromwhenCharlieaccidentallyrear-endedtheCadillacwhilehewasinside.
“TheMummy,”shesays.“Nineteenthirty-two.BorisKarloff.”
“I’veheardofhim,”Joshsays.“SomefilmnerdtoldmehewasinTheSecretLifeofWalterMitty.”
Charliegrins.“Thatfilmnerdmustbeaverysmartgirl.”
“Sheis,”Joshsays.“Althoughshemustnotbetoosmarttobestickingaroundthisplace.”
“Ijustcamebytothankyouforsavingme.”AlumpformsinCharlie’sthroat.Sheswallowsitdown.“I-I’mnotsureIdeservedit.”
“Youdid,”Joshtellsher.“Youneedtostopbeingsohardonyourself.”
“Iknow.”Charliepauses.“Andyouneedtofindadifferentjob.”
Joshlaughsuntilitstartstohurt.Clutchinghisside,hesays,“ThatIdo.IthinkI’dmakeagreatchauffeur.MaybeIshouldmovetoHollywood.Beadrivertothestars.”
“Soundslikeagoodplantome.”
“Speakingofdriving.”Joshgesturestohisclothes,neatlyfoldedonthenightstandbesidethebed,almostasifthey’djustcomefromacleanerwho’dforgottentotacklethebloodstains.“Reachintothefrontrightpocketofmyjeans.There’ssomethinginsideIwantyoutohave.”
Charliedoes,dippingherhandintothepocketandfindingasetofcarkeys.Shepullsthemoutbytheplasticfob,thekeysjinglingtogetherbelowit.
“It’syours,”Joshsays.
“Ican’ttakeyourcar.”
“YouneedtogettoOhiosomehow.Besides,you’reonlyborrowingit.Gohome,spendsometimewithyourgrandmother,bringitbacktome.I’llprobablystillbehere.”Joshtoucheshisside.“Andwhenyoudo,maybewecan,Idon’tknow,goseeamovieorsomething.”
Charliecurlsherfingersaroundthekeys,asignshe’sconsideringit.NotjustborrowingJosh’scar,butallofit.Forone,shefeelsindebtedtohim.Hecametoherrescue,inspiteofwhatshe’ddonetohim.Thatneedstobeacknowledgedandappreciated.
Thenthere’sthefactthatshelikesthisversionofJosh.It’stheoneshegotbriefglimpsesofduringthelong,strangetripofthepreviousnight.Nowthatallsuspicionisgone,shethinksitmightbenicetomeettherealhim.
ButthebedrocktruthisthatsurvivingthenighthasleftCharliefeelinglonelierthanever.
Maddy’sgone.
Robbie,too.
Nowmorethanever,Charlie’sinneedofanewfriend.
“Maybe,”shesaysasshestuffsthekeysintohercoatpocket.“AslongasIgettopickthemovie.”
EXT.LODGE—DAY
CharliehastotakeacabtogettotheGrandAm,whichisstillparkedatthebaseoftheridgewheretheMountainOasisLodgehadoncesat.Thecabbie,kindenoughnottomentionthewayCharlielooksandsmells,onlygetsasfarthesignforthelodgebeforebeingstoppedbyapolicebarricade.
Forcedtowalktherestoftheway,Charlieeventuallygetstothebridgeinfrontofthewaterfall.Thechunkofrailingshe’dtakenoutwiththeVolvoisnowcoveredwithpolicetape—clearlyasymbolicgestureandnotanadequatereplacement.
TheVolvoitselfstillsitsinthegrassbesidetheravine.AlthoughRobbie’sbodyhadbeenremovedandcarriedawayhoursearlier,Charliegetsachillwhensheseesthecar.ItremindshernotonlyabouthowcloseshehadcometodeathbutabouthowlittlesheknewRobbie.
Andhow,whenpushed,shewascapableofanything.
Asshecrossesthebridge,Charliewondersiftherehadbeenwarningsignsthatshemissed.Sheassumestherewere.Shealsoassumesit’lltakeyearsoftherapytofigureoutwhattheywere.
Thatandmaybesomelittleorangepills.
Charlieknowsthatthemoviesinhermindneedtostop.Shecan’tspendpartsofherlifeinadreamstate.Shesuspectsthat’soneofthereasonsshehadsospectacularlymisjudgedRobbie.Hewastoohandsome,toosmart,tooperfectforreallife.Theflawswerethere,butshehadoverlookedtheminfavorofpreservingthemovie-versionboyfriendshewantedinsteadoflookingforthereal-lifeonesheneeded.
That’sthetrickythingaboutmovies.Theycanbewonderfulandbeautifulandamazing.Butthey’renotlikelife,whichiswonderful,beautiful,andamazinginadifferentway.
Nottomentionmessy.
Andcomplicated.
Andsadandscaryandjoyfulandfrustratingand,veryoften,boring.Charlieknowsthenightshe’sjusthadistheexceptionratherthantherule.
ShereachestheGrandAm,whichhadbeenleftunlocked.Slidingbehindthewheel,CharliegrabsthekeysJoshgaveherandstartsthecar.Shethengrabsacassetteandpopsitintothestereo.Shepressesplayandafamiliarsongstartstoblastthroughthespeakers.
“ComeasYouAre.”
Charliebobsherheadintimetothemusic.Shecan’thelpherself.It’sagreatsong.
AsthemusicplaysandtheGrandAm’senginehumsandthesunrisesoverthemountains,Charlieshiftsintogear.
Thenshedriveslikehell.
Fadeout.
Screeningroom.
Themiddleoftheafternoon.
Themiddleofsomewhere.
Thelightscomeupontheaudienceofmoversandshakersscatteredthroughoutthetheater.Charliedoesn’tknowwhohalfofthemareorwhythey’rehereorwhattheythinkofthemovietheyjustwatched.Butsheknowstheimportantones.
Thedirector,aTarantinowannabewearingathrift-storebowlingshirtandaten-thousand-dollarwatch.Hekepthistintedeyeglassesontheentirescreening.
Theactress,afewyearsolderthanCharliewasatthetimebutfarprettier.Soprettythatitwasimpossibletohide.Throughoutthemovie,shewasradiantinhersadness,radiantinhermadness,radiantinherrage.Ratherthanfeelingjealousaboutthat,Charlie’sdelightedthatabetter,morebeautifulversionofherselfnowexists.Theworldwillseeitand,hopefully,thinkthat’swhatshewasreallylikebackthen.
Theleadingmenaretheopposite.Theyjustcan’tcomparetotheirreal-lifecounterparts,eventhoughbotharebonafideteenidols.ThebadboyonthathitWBshowleaningintotypeasJoshandthegoodboyfromthatotherhitWBshowplayingagainstitasRobbie.Havingseentherealdeals,Charliecan’thelpbutbeunimpressed.
Afterasmatteringofapplause,thedirectorstandsandturnstoher,rubbinghishandstogetherandgivingherasmilethat’smeanttobewarmbutcomesacrossaspredatory.Charlieknowsthescore.Hethinksexploitingherordealisgoingtosolidifyhiscareer.Maybeitwill.Charlie’slonggivenupontryingtounderstandmodernmoviegoers.
Hermainfocusnowispreservingthepast,whichispartofherjobdutiesasanarchivistattheAcademyofMotionPictureArtsandSciences.Sheloveswhatshedoes.Gettingtobeagatekeeperofhonest-to-Godfilmhistoryisherdreamjob.SheevengetstoattendtheOscarseveryyear,althoughwaybackinthecheapseats.Andwhenshegoeshomeatnight,sheleavesitallbehind.Nomoremoviesinthemindforher.Thoseendedthenightdepictedintherealmovieshejustwatched.
“Whatdoyouthink?”thedirectorsays.
Hewantshertosayshelovesit.Charliecanseeitinhiseyes,whichblazebrightevenbehindthosetintedlenses.
Buthere’stherub:shedoesn’tknowhowshefeels.
Charlie’sissuewithwhatshejustwatchedisthatitironicallydoeseverythingshenormallylikesaboutthemovies.It’slife,madebigger,ifnotbetter.Thetroubleliesinthefactthatit’sherownlifethat’sbeenenlarged.Thisisn’tthestoryofthatnight.Notthetrueone.Andshehasahardtimeseeingpastthelibertiesthatweretaken
Forone,itwasspring.Therewasnochill,nopicturesquesnowfall,noredcoat,althoughthatCharliecanforgivebecausethecolorpopsbeautifullyon-screen.Mostofthelocationswerealsoinventedoraltered.ThereisnoOlyphantUniversity—thatwaschangedbecausetherealcollegewantednothingtodowiththeproduction.TheSkylineGrillewaslessofadinerandmoreofatruckstop,itsFormicatablescoloredasadbrown,itsboothsworndullbythebacksofslumpedpatrons.
AsfortheMountainOasisLodge,Charliealmostburstoutlaughingwhenitappearedon-screen.Itwassoover-the-topastobeabsurd.Theworkofaproductiondesignerwithalotofmoneyandapenchantforexposedtimbers.Thereallodgewasaglorifiedmotel—onecentralbuildingwithasmatteringofcottagesformingahorseshoeshapearoundtheswimmingpool.
Butsomeoftheembellishmentsshelikesverymuch.Thefire—whichdidn’thappen—addedsomemuch-neededpunchtothethirdact.Thewaterfall—whichdidn’texist—addedagreatbackdroptothesceneofthesinkingVolvo.
That,bytheway,didhappen.Rightdowntothesatisfyingclickofthehandcuffsaroundthesteeringwheel.
YetCharlie’sfavoritepartofthemoviewasthedenouement,mostlybecauseitshowedwhatcouldhavebeen.MargediedattheMountainOasisLodge.Accordingtopolice,sheclimbedintothepool,fishedoutthegun,andpulledthetrigger.
Therewasnohospitalroomconversation.
Nounspokentrucebetweenthem.
Notriumphantmomentwithatooth.
Watchingallofthaton-screenmadeherwishitwastrue.Inthisinstance,shedoesn’tmindtheHollywoodending.Infact,shecherishesit.
Moviemagic.It’sapalpablething.
AndMaddywouldhavelovedit.
WhichiswhyCharliesmilesbackatthedirectorandsays,“Iadoreit.”
Afterthat,she’sfreetogo.
Thescreeningroomislocatedinadowntownbuildingandnotastudiolot.Ashame,really.Charlielovesitwhenshegetstovisitthemforherwork.They’remagicalandmundaneatthesametime.Factorieswheredreamsgetmade.
TheupsideabouthercurrentlocationisthataLincolnTownCariswaitingforheroutside.Ratherthanclimbintotheback,sheslidesintothefrontpassengerseat.
“Hey,”shesays.
Thedriverflashesherakillersmile.“Heyyourself.”
Thatpartofthemovie,asimprobableasitmayseem,istrue.Joshdidletherborrowhiscar.CharliedroveitstraighttoOhioandNanaNorma.Whenshereturnedthecartwoweekslater,Joshdidindeedaskifshe’dliketogotothemovies.
Heranswerwassimple:“Ineversaynotoamovie.”
Theywent.Joshpaidforthetickets.
Theywentthenextnight.Charliereturnedthefavor.
Bytheirthirdmovie,Joshhadlearnedthatshepreferredtositinthemiddleofthesixthrow.Bythefourth,CharliehadlearnedthatJoshlikedtoputRaisinetsinhispopcorn.Bytheirfifth,shefinallylearnedtostartcallinghimJake.
Thatwassixyearsago.
“Howwasyourday?”sheasks.
“Good,”hereplies.“IgottotakeSharonStonetotheairport.”
“How’dshelook?”
“LikeaHitchcockblonde.”
“ExactlywhatIwantedtohear.”
Hewaitsabeatbeforeaskingthequestionsheknowsisattheforefrontofhisthoughts.“Andhowwasthemovie?”
“Notbad.Notgreat,butcertainlynotterrible.Itwasatypicalmovie.Butreallife—”Charlieexhalesasighofcontentmentasshereachesforherhusband’shand.“Reallifeissomuchbetter.”
ENDCREDITS
Whileitwouldbeappropriatetocomparewritinganoveltoalong,lonelydrivethroughdarkness,it’snotquitethetruth.Gettingabookpublishedisateameffort,andIhavemanypeopletothankforhelpingmereachmydestination.
ToMayaZiv,forbeingafantasticeditorand,evenmore,all-aroundjoy.
ToEmilyCanders,KatieTaylor,ChristineBall,andliterallyeveryoneatDutton,forhelpingmedowhatIdo.I’msoluckytohavefoundsuchanamazingcreativehome,andI’mastoundeddailybyallyourenthusiasmandsupport.
ToMichelleBrower,forbeinganincredibleagent,afierceadvocate,andawonderfulhumanbeing.
ToeveryoneatAevitasCreativeManagement,forkeepingthebusinesssideofthingsrunninglikeclockworkandlettingmefocusonthewriting.
ToMikeLivio,for,well,everything.
TotheRitterandLiviofamilies,fortheirencouragement,support,andbringingquietnormalcytoasometimescrazyworld.
ToSarahDutton,forbeingthebestfirstreaderawritercouldeverhave.
ToBenTurrano,foransweringmymanyquestionsaboutdrivingalate-eightiesPontiacGrandAm.
TothefilmmakerswhoseworkinspiresmeandthatIreturntoagainandagain—AlfredHitchcock,OrsonWelles,BillyWilder,StevenSpielberg,DavidFincher,VincenteMinnelli,WesCraven,BrianDePalma,WaltDisney.
Finally,SurvivetheNightisalovelettertothemovies,yes,butalsotoaspecifictimeperiod.InNovember1991,Iwasaseniorinhighschool,whichwasaparticularlyfraught,magical,memorabletimeinmylife.Andifyou’llforgiveonefinalbitofnostalgia,I’dliketothankthepeoplewhoweresospecialtomethen:JennyBeaver,JasonDavis,ChristineFry,MartaMcCormick,MarshaMcKinney,JohnPaul,SarahPaul,BrianReedy,JeffRicher,SeemaShah,andKellyJoWoodside.Thankyouallforthemanynightdrives.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
SurvivetheNightisthefifththrillerfromRileySager,thepseudonymofanauthorwholivesinPrinceton,NewJersey.Riley’sfirstnovel,FinalGirls,wasanationalandinternationalbestsellerthathasbeenpublishedinmorethantwodozencountriesandwontheITWThrillerAwardforBestHardcoverNovel.Sager’snovelsTheLastTimeILied,LockEveryDoor,andHomeBeforeDarkwereNewYorkTimesbestsellers.
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