Chapter 8: Overlooked

“Wake up, asshole.”

Abruptly, Allen woke up, realizing someone shoved a gun’s muzzle into his face. Worse, he saw Kitty kneeling on the floor wearing her flannel nightgown, tied up and gagged.

“Flip over, hands behind your back.”

“Carlo...”

A gunshot cut him off—the bullet deflecting off the floor near Kitty’s knees and embedding in the bedroom wall.

“Flip over; hands behind your back. I won’t say it again.”

When he complied, Carlo handcuffed him. He put their outdoor coats over their shoulders. Finally, he demanded Allen’s truck keys.

“Where are we going, Carlo?”

“Shut up. Go sit in your truck, with Kitty in the middle.”

In the truck, Carlo put the gun between his legs, ground the gears noisily, and drove off.

“Why, Carlo?”

“I was having a private moment with Shirley; our clothes were off, and this jerk breaks in and takes pictures of us. He was working for you, right, Kitty? Nod your head.”

She nodded. For her divorce, photos were necessary evidence of infidelity.

“I don’t have money for a lawyer to fight you in court. You need to die, so I can inherit your assets and marry Shirley. Now both of you shut up, or I will gag you too.”

Carlo was taking them out of Cedar Grove on one of the secondary roads headed for a mountain pass. Cautious driving brought them up switchback after switchback until they were 3,000 feet above the town’s elevation.

He parked at a designated “Scenic Overlook” and left the engine running with the brake set. He circled around and opened the passenger door.

“Step out,” he ordered, then walked them up to the edge of the precipice. He removed their coats and untied the gag, asking sarcastically, “Any last words?”

“Carlo, you don’t have to do this! I’m not faithful to our marriage, either; I can be the one ‘at fault’ instead of you and Shirley. Please!”

“Hm. You make a good point. But...”

Abruptly, he hip-checked Kitty, causing her to stumble and then fall out of sight.

“FUCK!”

Allen could only scream in frustration. But he also scampered away, trying to put some space between him and the edge. Carlo was peering down, trying to see how far Kitty had fallen. Thinking quickly, Allen reversed course and thundered into Carlo, flinging both of their bodies through the thin icy air.

Three things happened that worked in Allen’s favor. First, Carlo dropped his pistol onto the slushy pavement. Second, their trajectory angled away from Kitty’s direction. Third, Allen landed on top of Carlo, softening the impact.

“Carlo? Hey, stupid!”

Allen shouldered him sideways, exposing his bloody face. Somehow, Carlo didn’t hit any snow. Instead, he landed face first onto some jagged rocks, crushing his right eye and right temple. He was still breathing, but not for very long, Allen judged.

“Now, what? KITTY! Oh, God. KITTY!”

He heard her voice, faintly.

“Allen? Help me!”

“I’m coming, honey. HOLD ON!”

He took stock of himself. Without a coat, all he had on were his boxers. Already, his toes were tingling, a first sign of frostbite. First problem: the handcuffs. Turning his back, he fumbled through Carlo’s pockets until he found the key. He fumbled with the little key for more than a minute while his hands shook and his fingers froze.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually he freed one wrist. Quickly, Allen released his other wrist, stripped off Carlo’s clothing, and tried to wear it himself. Nothing fit; Carlo was much smaller. He heard the “death rattle” of Carlo’s last breath, and the body released some yellow urine into the snow.

Frustrated, he gave up on wearing Carlo’s clothes and scrambled over the steep slopes looking for Kitty. The deep snow hampered him, but then he caught a glimpse of her nightgown’s floral pattern.

“Kitty, I see you! Hang on!”

He floundered the last ten feet to be by her side. Slipping into shock and hypothermia, Kitty was only partly aware; she only smiled, briefly. Fortunately, soft snow prevented impact injuries from her fall. He helped a little by putting Carlo’s flannel shirt on her.

“I’ve got you, honey. Let’s go get warm!”

Given the freezing weather and their being mostly unclothed, Allen knew time was against them. Plus, Kitty was almost incapable of moving herself. He put her arm up over his shoulder to help them struggle upwards. Climbing this steep slope would be difficult in summer but near impossible in these icy conditions.

“C’mon, Kitty. I know it’s hard, but you have to help me. Up there, my truck is still running. The heater will be blowing hot air up your legs and between your legs.”

Kitty showed she was still aware by smiling, slightly.

He was struggling with her weight, but the effort raised his heart rate and blood pressure, helping him fight the awful coldness. Slowly, foot by foot, he brought her up closer to their goal. Allen heaved her back onto the level pavement near his still-running truck, about 30 minutes after Carlo had shoved Kitty off the overlook.

He found her coat, wrapped it around her shoulders, then retrieved his own coat.