Honeymoon for Three

his own head. He faced away from Alfred. He wouldn’t be any good to Penny if he were dead.
    “Put your hands behind your back.”
    Should he duck and roll and try to get the camper between himself and Alfred? No, because then Alfred would shoot Penny.
    “What are you going to do?”
    “Put your hands behind your back.”
    Alfred’s voice was more strident, more demanding. The gun dug into Gary’s scalp. Alfred wasn’t rational. He couldn’t be reasoned with. Gary could swing his arm and hope to dislodge the gun from Alfred’s hand, but if he missed, Alfred would shoot them both. For the moment, Gary had to do what Alfred wanted. He placed his hands behind his back. He had never been so scared in his life, but he was more scared for Penny than himself.
    With one hand, Alfred arranged Gary’s arms so they crossed at the wrists. With his other hand, he kept the gun pointed at Gary’s head. Then Alfred wrapped something around and around Gary’s wrists. It felt and sounded like tape. Gary tried to surreptitiously hold his hands so that there would be some play between them, but Alfred wound the tape tightly enough to nullify this. He was obviously experienced at taping people. He must have practiced on Penny.
    “Isn’t that enough?” Gary asked. “I can’t move my hands.”
    “That’s the idea. Okay, here’s where you get to be a hero and save the life of your wife.”
    Doing what? Gary didn’t say it out loud. He waited, hardly breathing, to hear his fate.
    “You and I are going to walk out to the cliff. Then you’re going to be big and brave and jump off. If you do that, Penny will live.”
    The unspoken part of that statement was that Penny would live with Alfred. She wouldn’t do that. The fact that Alfred had to tape Penny’s mouth and probably her hands and feet—she hadn’t moved—was in a way a relief to Gary. It meant that she hadn’t been seduced by Alfred. It meant that she still loved him. He had heard of kidnapped persons relating to their kidnappers, but it hadn’t happened in this case.
    Should Gary walk to the cliff or should he force Alfred to shoot him here? The noise of the shot probably wouldn’t be loud enough for any cars on the road to hear, and they were shielded from the road by the body of the camper and some rocks. If he shot Gary, would he then shoot Penny?
    Gary would rather take his chances with the cliff. When he was mobile, he might be able to do something. Even with his hands taped behind him, he had some options. The least he could do would be to take Alfred over the cliff with him. If he could get in the right position, he could slam his body into that potbelly. They would die together.
    Alfred told Gary to stand. Gary stood slowly, turning his head a little to glance at Penny. She had a look of horror in her eyes, but it was more than that. Was she trying to tell him something? He wasn’t sure what. Then she hummed what sounded like a few notes of a song.
    “Shut up.” Alfred momentarily aimed the gun at her.
    She became quiet. What was the song? Gary wracked his brain. Penny’s voice had been a little hoarse, and he wasn’t sure he’d caught the notes. Alfred prodded Gary with the gun. He closed the door of the camper. Gary started walking slowly toward the cliff. He had to walk carefully on the uneven surface, covered with rock and slippery, green ice plant, because he couldn’t use his arms for balance. If he tripped, he would fall hard.
    “Keep moving.”
    Gary could feel the barrel of the gun in his back from time to time. Just to let him know that Alfred still held it on him.
    “It’s hard to walk with my hands behind my back.”
    “My heart cries for you. Just keep moving.”
    What was that song? Eight notes. That’s what Penny had hummed. It was like being on the TV show, “Name that Tune.” He should be able to remember it. He hummed it in his head as he had heard it. It was coming back to him. It had been popular in the fifties, when he was in school. They were approaching the cliff. Gary could see the ocean below. Far below. Much too far to survive a fall. Especially since he would undoubtedly land on jagged rocks.
    Gary stopped walking and turned to face Alfred. The words of the song had come to him: “Wait little darling, wait for me.” Wait for her. But what could she do? Could she get free? If so, what could she do to help him? She shouldn’t jeopardize her own safety. She should escape if she had the chance. But she would