Free Marilyn by J.D. Lawrence Page B

back through the corridor.
     
    ***
    Elwood rested Molly against the wall and made his way across to the kitchen. He filled a flask with black coffee, adding a shot or five of the finest. He stirred it and put the lid on. He grabbed an empty backpack from the office and stuffed it with torches, the flask and the remainder of the whiskey. He snatched the keys to the Jeep from their hanger and made his way back to where he had left Marilyn. She stood there, next to Molly, with a tenacious look burning on her earnest face.
    'Are we ready to leave?'
    'Yeah.' Elwood nodded. 'We're ready. How are you feeling? Are you sure you're up for this now, because when we leave, there's no turning back.'
    'Of course I'm ready,' she exclaimed. 'And there's nothing on this earth that will stop me.’
    'Good, just checking.' Elwood looked both ways, up and down the corridor, looking but not really seeing. 'OK. Let’s go and get Jack.'
    She smiled.
    'Where's the Jeep parked?'
    'Out back, behind the building, come on, let's go.'
    Elwood picked up Molly and threw her over his shoulder and led the way.
    Marilyn followed behind closely, she held the jackets and shells in her arms.
    Elwood led her through the long corridor, passing doors and turnings every few feet. They stopped at a double bolted metal door. The rain from outside tried its hardest to invade the motel, persistently beating against the door. They both dropped what they were carrying and put their jackets on, zipping them right up to their chins. They pulled the hoods over their heads and looked at the door.
    Elwood gripped the lock handles one after the other and wiggled them until they were both free, the outdoors one step away. He reached for Marilyn's free hand and took it. Neither spoke. He pushed mightily at the door until it opened against the force of the wind. They braced themselves and headed face first into the unknown.
    It wasn't too bad when they actually made it outside, the building seemed to protect them from the majority of the wind, acting like a blockade, a protector. A grassy hump cleared the way for a set of steps which led into yet another gravel-filled car park, with six parking spaces. The lawn was overgrown, not trimmed in months, maybe years. They jogged across the grass and down the steps, giving each one the attention it deserved. With a few slips and slides they made it to the bottom, to the car park, unscathed.
    Elwood pushed the buttons on the keyring and the lights of the Jeep flashed their welcoming beacons. They upped their pace to a steady run, splashing their way through pools and deep puddles of murky rain water.
    The Jeep was old, worn out, like everything else at the motel. Its pallid brick red exterior barely distinguishable in the dead light of apparent morning.
    Both doors swung open in unison and they climbed inside, shutting out the ugliness of the outdoors.
    Elwood found the home for the keys, inserted and turned. It started first time.
    'Attagirl. As reliable as ever,' he boasted. 'Buckle up.'
    Marilyn quietly did as she was told.
    Without checking his mirrors, Elwood reversed at an unsafe speed. They chugged around the car park, following the path closely until they were clear of the motel.
     

NINETEEN
     
    Jack grappled his way through the woodland, swiping at lose branches and kicking at lumps of mud, clearing a path for both himself and his captor. He tried to take in the view, what there was of one. He had never seen the countryside, except from pictures in books and shows on television. He had always imagined that it would be a lovely place to spend time.
       Trees had been split and snapped from the force of the gale, birds' nests lay discarded in pieces, their owners dead, partly buried next to them. Jack could feel himself beginning to cry for the first time, but he held back. His small, frail body took a battering from the assault of the terrain—mounds, holes, and muddy ditches attacked him from every angle. He lost his