CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Mom was barely done with the infusion when Arthur’s men appeared at the treatment room door. “Lucy go get dressed,” Ken, the head bodyguard ordered. “Clarissa, we’re taking you to your room, and your nurse will get you changed into something nice for the video taping.”
Lucy put on the one dress they had given her since abducting her from the TV studio in New York, a disgusting flowery thing that hung halfway to her ankles. She desperately needed a haircut but saw no reason that she should care about how she looked in a propaganda video. When she got to Mom’s room, her nurse/guard had put Mom in pants and a knit jacket with patch pockets. Maybe women at death’s door did not have to walk around in oversize little girl dresses. But not even patch pockets could conceal how thin Mom was. If they were going to use her to show she was just fine, thank you, they were running out of time.
“Everybody ready?” Arthur asked cheerfully from the hallway. They followed him toward the patient’s lounge, but he didn’t even pause.
“Where are we going, dear?” Mom asked in the innocent voice she had adopted.
“The camera crew want footage of us outside the hospital. It’s just a little depressing talking from a hospital lounge, even a nice one. So we’re going to go for a little ride, just us three, and they’ll follow us with a camera car. See, here’s the crew. Come, Clarissa, let me help you into the passenger seat. Lucy, sit in back.”
As he sped away, Lucy thought she heard loud noises coming from behind the clinic. But he went the other way, so she never even caught a glimpse. The van with the cameramen stayed very close behind them, apparently filming. After a half hour of driving around, Lucy could see Mom was starting to fade.
“Arthur, if you want Mom to look at all good in the video, I think we should go back to the clinic now. Look how tired she is. We’re almost at the Interstate. Where are you going?”
“Actually,” Arthur said, “it may be a little longer than I said. Clarissa, why don’t you put your seat back and try to sleep? He pulled over and stopped and reached his right arm across Mom to where the seat recliner button was for her seat back.
“What do you mean, longer?” Lucy asked. “Where are you going?? And where is the camera crew? I haven’t seen them for miles.” Lucy heard the child lock button go down and her door locked.
“I thought,” he answered, still feeling around behind him for the button to recline Mom’s seat, “we might film the video at a studio I use in Virginia sometimes. It’s a little ways from here. I’m sure the camera crew got enough footage of us as a little happy family on a car trip. They’re on their way to the studio to process it. Damn it Clarissa,” he shouted. “Stop squirming around. I can’t put your seat back if I have to. Uhhhhhng,” he said suddenly. Then again, “Uhhhhng,” louder.
Mom took her hand off the handle of the steak knife embedded in Arthurs’s neck, and calmly put it at her side. He fell forward onto the dashboard.
Lucy heard the sound of her own screams. Mom was completely silent, just sitting in the car with Arthur’s brains and blood running down her face and blouse. Lucy grabbed the door handle, but of course it was locked.
“Mom, unlock the doors!” she yelled.
“I can’t,” Mom answered. “He’s in my way.” And she began to laugh. She laughed so hard she cried. And then she began to cry.
Lucy climbed between the front seats pushing Arthur onto Mom. He looked pretty bad, not moving or anything. She knew she had to get help. She thought she had seen a symbol for a hospital on the signs for the highway. She started the car and headed up the ramp.
“Lucy, don’t go to Virginia,” her mother said from beneath her husband’s unmoving body. “I killed him to stay out of Virginia. If you take us past the last exit in Maryland, I’ll open my door and take my chances on the Interstate. Better dead than red.”
Lucy glanced away from the road for a moment and stared at her. She had obviously snapped. Maybe they were giving her more drugs than Lucy knew or one of the meds had some terrible side effect.
“I’m dead anyway,” Mom said in a bizarrely calm voice as Lucy sped along looking for the hospital sign. “Did you think I didn’t know? They were just giving me steroids the last few times to keep me looking good for the damn video. I’ve been planning to kill him since Judy told me what he did to you. Why do you think I asked for steak? I don’t even like steak, you know that.”
Lucy couldn’t believe they were discussing steak with a dead man in her lap. “But I wanted the knife. Judy explained to me about going in through the back of his neck. She brought me a melon to show me. Said it was a treat from her garden. It’s really not that hard,” Mom explained, “if you’ve ever cut a melon. I wasn’t going to kill him until we were on our way out. If I got the chance, fine. Of course I wasn’t going to jeopardize you getting out. But I knew where he slept and if I could I was going to murder him before I died. Anyway, Lucy we have to get off at this next exit. Otherwise we’ll be driving ourselves to Virginia. Which would defeat my whole plan.”
Lucy actually felt herself starting to laugh. It sounded like Mom when she was organizing Girl Scout projects. Instead of murder. It actually felt sorta good to have Mom taking care of things again.
“Watch out!” Mom shouted. Lucy looked back at the road and saw the flashing lights and police cars pulled across the highway. She slammed on her breaks. How could they have known so soon? Had someone seen mother attack Arthur back there?
Uniformed men swarmed the car. Lucy rolled down her window. “You can’t go any further,” he said. “Turn around. The border with Virginia is closed. Maryland is at war.” He leaned in to be sure they understood the message and saw the bloody scene in the front seat of Arthur’s car and the ominously still figure thrown across Mom’s lap. “What is this?” he asked, opening the car door where Lucy sat.
“The first casualty,” she answered.