Altered America (25 page)

             
Althea made no move to collect them. She remained still as Libby jammed the car into gear and forced it back onto the road. Libby smelled the dust as she sped off, but didn’t bother to look back to see where it landed.

* * *

              Whisky dripped down her chin as she steered the Jeep, one-handed, round a sharp curve. The fuel indicator quivered on ‘E’. She’d used up the Jeep’s remaining cans of gasoline when she’d crossed the border from New Jersey to New York, and only had a few miles left before the Jeep would die completely. Connecticut County was still about 30 miles away. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and kept driving, ignoring the urge to scratch her at her bandages.

             
A dark speck appeared in the road ahead. Libby squinted but couldn’t make out its shape. She shoved the flask into the knapsack and noticed the shape moving. She thought perhaps it could be an injured animal lying in the road, except injured animals didn’t wear blue jeans and beige t-shirts.

             
“Goddamn.” Libby stopped just in time to avoid driving over Althea Hudson’s head. Libby leapt down and ran to her side. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag prevented her from speaking. Libby briefly considered leaving it, but instead made untying it her first priority.

             
“Go,” Althea croaked as three Jeeps emerged from the roadside, surrounding them.

             
“Don’t think I’m supposed to.”

             
Landers climbed out of one of the Jeeps, spitting chaw to the ground. He had three men with him, one for each of the Jeeps.

             
“Evening, Miss Strunk.”

             
Libby unshouldered her rifle. “Why you throwing reporters at me, Landers? I can find them well enough on my own.”

             
“Seems you let this one get away.”

             
“I released her back into the wild. They prefer their natural habitat. Now, you want to tell me why you left her lying in the road there?”

             
Landers chuckled and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Don’t ‘spect you heard, but the United Carolinas have decided to end their brief alliance with Pennsylvania. Apparently, wasn’t beneficial for either party.”

             
Libby tightened the grip on her M1, keeping it aimed on Landers.

             
“Now, as we were in the area and you were harbouring a fugitive of the 45
th
United Carolinas militia, seemed the best way to serve my country would be to take you in as well.”

             
She pushed off the rifle’s safety. “Now, I may not be partial to these interlopers, Landers, but even I know international reporters ain’t fugitives.”

             
Landers sighed. “See, this is why they shouldn’t ever have given women the right to bear arms. Gives them all sortsa funny ideas.” He nodded to his men. They trained their guns on Libby. “I want the reporter alive, but I don’t have any particular notion towards how I bring you in, little lady.”

             
“Wait!” Althea shouted.

             
“Do not say anything stupid,” Libby grumbled.

             
“Leave her alone, and I’ll go with you freely.”

             
“That was stupid.”

             
Landers laughed. “Good to know they’re still raising ‘em right over in the old country. But I can’t accept your offer, darling. Not when I’ve gone out of my way to get aholda this one, too.”

             
“If you kill her, I won’t write how the United Carolinas are the only territory who haven’t committed war crimes within the last twenty-five years. Or how the European Committee should continue providing aid for them, and them alone.”

             
Landers crossed his arms. “And who would believe that?”

             
“I’m a senior correspondent for the most trusted and unbiased news source in the world. Everyone will.”

             
Landers considered her offer. “I hate to think I set this trap for nothing.”

             
“I wouldn’t have made the offer otherwise.”

             
Landers spit chaw to the ground and smiled. “All right, then. Get her up.”

             
The guard behind Libby came forward and yanked Althea to her feet. He passed her over to Landers who grabbed her by the neck. The other men took their guns off Libby. She kept hers raised. As Althea and Landers walked forward, Althea tripped, pulling Landers with her to the ground. Libby fired at the men before they could let off a single shot. The three went down. Bullets ricocheted off the Jeep, missing Landers. He abandoned Althea and ran for the woods. Libby aimed for his legs and fired. He collapsed onto the road.

             
Gun still raised, Libby approached and kicked him over onto his back.

             
“Go on, then,” he panted.

             
“And ruin all my fun? No, I think I’ll let you live. I saw a house not too far from here. Two or three miles to the west. If you’re lucky, they might be hooked up to the telephone.” She rolled him into a ditch, ignoring his screaming.

             
Libby returned to Althea and helped her to her feet. Althea winced.

             
“You all right?”

             
“Just a bit winded,” she said. “Let’s go.”

             
Libby went to untie Althea’s hands and saw the blood staining her back.

             
“Christ. Did Landers...” Libby remembered she was the only person who fired a weapon.

             
“It’s only a scratch. I’ll be fine.”

             
Libby helped Althea load herself into Landers’ Jeep then used her bandana to staunch the bleeding.

             
“Miss Hudson, I know what you said ‘bout not wanting to go into New England, but the Connecticut border’s the closest place with a hospital and I’d rather not give Landers the satisfaction of you dying.”

             
“I’ll forgo my moral objections this once,” Althea smiled, her skin already paler than before.

             
Libby drove as fast as she safely could over the rocky road. Every bump caused Althea to wince, but they couldn’t slow down. It still took twenty minutes for the Connecticut border to come into view. Libby sped right for it. A neatly uniformed Connecticut guard held up his hand. Libby swerved and pulled to a stop alongside him. He looked at the fresh dust on his shoes, then to Althea, whose blood covered the passenger’s seat, and finally to Libby.

             
“Papers,” he said.

             
“Get on the wire and get us a doctor!”

             
“There is a hospital stationed just past the guard hut. First, let me see her papers.”

             
“She’s a reporter for the BBC. A British citizen!”

             
“Where are her papers?”

             
Libby felt like she’d been shot in the chest as she remembered. Those papers were with the border guard back at the Mason-Dixon. Althea was here, bleeding out in a United Carolinas Jeep because of a 76
th
Philadelphia bullet.

             
She reached into her inner pocket. “Take these. One hundred bona fide border credits for entry into the New England Neutrality, issued by the Northern States Alliance.”

             
“Libby... no...” Althea held up a bloodied hand to stop her, but Libby shoved the paper credits into the guard’s hands.

             
“Get her to the goddamn hospital!” Libby shouted.

             
The guard looked disgusted at the blood now staining his uniform but did as she ordered. Less than five minutes later, medics were loading an unconscious Althea onto a stretcher. Libby’s last glimpse of her came as the medics lifted her into the back of an ambulance. The doors slammed shut, replacing her image of Althea with a bright Red Cross. The ambulance siren wailed as the van sped off and rounded a corner, vanishing from sight. The sound of the siren diminished into silence.

             
Libby remained at the border, her clothes covered in blood. The border guard cleaned his hands with a white handkerchief, which he then neatly folded and returned to his pocket.

             
“And your papers?” he asked.

             
Without giving a response, Libby leapt into the Jeep and drove back the way she came. After five miles, she stopped to take stock of what she had—one M1 Garand .30 caliber semi-automatic rifle, two en bloc .30-06 Springfield cartridge clips, one Colt Banker’s Special, six .38 S&W bullets, ten assorted other bullets, one flask blended whisky (three-quarters empty), one canteen of water (half empty), one blood-stained Jeep, two shaking hands, and a searing, itching pain in her right side. She tried sliding the flask of whisky into her empty inner jacket pocket—succeeding on the third attempt—put the Jeep in gear, and drove southward.

A Girl’s Best Friend

by Cyrus P. Underwood

             
The following was the first interview that Marilyn Monroe had done in years. Even after her retirement in 2002 at the age of 76, Marilyn remained active in promoting various social causes. At 86, she gave her final interview to TIME Magazine at her home in Los Angeles. It was originally published in the August 6, 2012 issue:

              TIME:  Hello, Miss Monroe.  Thanks for speaking with us today.

             
MARILYN MONROE:  It’s a pleasure, as always.

             
TIME: Let’s start early.  You began your career as a model during World War II.

             
MM: Yes, that's right. Though I didn't stay one for long. Soon after the war, I started to get bit parts in movies and then... (laughs)

             
TIME: Then you did Playboy.

             
MM: Yes, that's right. I only did because I had bills to pay. The fact that people are still looking at them now makes me blush. I'm not saying that that got me better parts, of course. It was just something that I had to do at the time.

             
TIME: You are still a remarkably good looking woman.

             
MM: Why thank you. But I don't think I'll be gracing the pages of Playboy anytime soon, now, unless they do a memorial issue.

             
TIME: You have said, in one of your recent public appearances, that the reason you are so committed to child welfare now is because of your own experiences as a child. In fact your foundation, Marilyn's Children, is being hailed as one of the premier organizations for helping children since its founding in 1995.

             
MM: Yes, I was moved around a lot when I was young. My mother, bless her, wasn't capable of taking care of me after a while, and I didn't know where my father was.

             
TIME: That would be the man you have identified as Charles Stanley Grifford.

             
MM: Yes. My mother showed me a photo of him when I was a child. I remember he looked like Clark Gable. I used to imagine that Clark Gable was my father, but that was just an amusing thought.

             
TIME: But your real maiden name was Mortensen.

             
MM: That was just the last name of the man my mother was married to at the time.

             
TIME: There are those who say that Mortensen was actually your father and that your mother lied to you.  What do you have to say to those critics?

             
MM: Well, I say they are lying. In any case, my father didn't care enough for me to see that I was taken care of, so I guess it really doesn’t matter all that much.

             
TIME: Let's move on. There is a dividing line in your work: pre-overdose and post-overdose. What happened that August night in 1962?

             
MM: I was trying to get rid of an addiction to a drug called Nembutal at the time. However, I was taking the pills throughout the day. Dr. [Ralph] Greenson came in that day to see how I was doing. I didn't tell him about taking it. If I had, I might not have gone through that.

             
TIME: Didn't Dr. Greenson tell you that taking the drug and the cure for it could be fatal when mixed?

             
MM: No.

             
TIME: So how did you survive the experience?

             
MM: Eunice Murray, my roommate and the woman who administered the cure, saw an empty bottle of Nembutal I must have left out, and she called Dr. Greenson and then the ambulance. I was very lucky to come out of that alive.

             
TIME: So it was an accidental overdose?

             
MM: Yes, that's right. After that I stopped taking Nembutal all together. Joe [DiMaggio] came almost as soon as he heard.

             
TIME: There is also the rumor that Bobby Kennedy was seen around your house that day.

             
MM: He was there. I told him that I was breaking things off with Jack.  He was the first one I told.

             
TIME: Not that you planning to expose the affair, correct?

             
MM: Well, I saw no point in doing it at the time. At some point, long after Jack left office, then I would have said something. Of course, the implied threat of exposure did stop him from calling every so often. I was really angry with him during our last conversation. And then...

             
TIME: Jack was assassinated the next week.

             
MM: (Sadly) Right. A part of me wishes I hadn't been so cruel. But I had to be. I had remarried Joe at that point and we were working very hard to make it work.

             
TIME: There were rumors that your second marriage was just as volatile as the first.  Tell us the story behind that.

             
MM: Yes, our first relationship was difficult; there were a lot of arguments. But after the overdose, we decided to take things one step at a time and we were remarried in 1964.

             
TIME: But what about the rumors of abuse?

             
MM: Lies. Joe was kind. Kinder than he had been to me during our first relationship. And if he had done something like that again, I just would have divorced him again. Let's move on, okay? I thought you wanted to talk about my career, not my personal life.

             
TIME:  Naturally. Your movies got more serious after 1962. You still did lighthearted fare like the musical
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
in 1963 and the romantic comedy
Harrison's Yellow Rose
in 1967. But you really did change people's perceptions of you when you played Mata Hari in the courtroom drama
The Trial of Mata Hari
, which earned you an Oscar nomination.

             
MM: Well it wasn't the first time I was in more dramatic fare. I was, after all, in
Niagara
. But, yes, 1968 was good to me. At least the first half was, until...

             
TIME: The Ambassador Hotel.

             
MM: (Sad smile) Yes. Bobby had asked Joe and me to appear at a campaign rally for him in Los Angeles during the California Primary. After he won, Joe and I... we accompanied Bobby and his wife, Ethel, through the kitchen. And then...

             
TIME: That's when Sirhan struck.

             
MM: (Nods) And the moment he pulled the trigger I became a widow. Joe pushed Bobby out of the way and tried to tackle him but it was too late. (Sob) I'm sorry.

             
TIME: It's all right.

             
MM: (Sad chuckle) Sometimes I think about all the things that could have happened. What if Joe and I hadn't been there that night? What if I had died in 1962? But that's all in the past now. We can't change it no matter how much we want to. Besides, Bobby was able to get on the ticket that year as Vice President. Bobby and Humphrey still lost to President Nixon of course, but I wasn't really involved after that.

             
TIME: It's understandable. But that's not the only thing that happened that night.

             
MM: Yes. I learned I was pregnant with Paul and Samantha. It was one of those fortunate and unfortunate things. I was fortunate to finally have my children... but without Joe there. Fortunately, Joe's son from his first marriage—Joe Jr.—he helped when he could and I was able to pull myself out knowing that Joe wouldn’t want me to turn to drugs again. I stayed sober for my children.

             
TIME: And they kept their father's name.

             
MM:  Of course.  They were his children, and I loved him too much to change it.

             
TIME: You must be proud, considering how they turned out.

             
MM: I'm as proud as any mother can be. Paul is a center fielder for the Yankees, like his father, and Samantha has been the Junior Senator from California for the past 13 years.

             
TIME: There are rumors that she is planning a run for the White House in 2016.

             
MM: (Smiles). Whether she will is still in the air. It's years away after all, Barry. I would support her in whatever she decides.

             
TIME: After the loss of your husband, you took a break from making movies to raise your children.  Tell us, what brought you back into the business?

             
MM: When Bobby decided to run again in 1972 I had to help out. Besides Joe would not have wanted me to be a shut-in and stay with the children all the time.  So, while I was on the campaign trail, I reconnected with Billy Wilder, who convinced me play Joan Hensworth in
The Golden Girl,
which was his usual form of comedy. It’s one of my favorite films.

             
TIME: You also worked on an adaptation of
Othello
with Sidney Poitier later the same year.

             
MM: That's right. Playing Desdemona was a challenge but I got through it.

             
TIME: After President Robert Kennedy was elected that year, he named you as a “cultural ambassador.” How did you feel about that?

             
MM: (Shy chuckle) Bobby was quite nice to give me that. There was resistance, of course, but his Vice President, Terry Sanford, actually supported Bobby's decision.

             
TIME: That was the only time that you met Vice President Sanford, correct?

             
MM: The only time. Yes.

             
TIME: Did you meet any other members of the government?

             
MM: Only the Secretary of State, George McGovern. I was mainly focusing on my career at that point.  Politics was never my interest, really.

             
TIME: In 1973, your career took another turn, as you switched to television. What prompted the change?

             
MM: I wanted to take a break from movies, but I still wanted to act. So, through my production company, Marilyn Monroe Productions, I produced
The Marilyn Monroe Show
. (Smiles) Not the most original name, I know, but it worked. People tuned in to the story of a woman working in a TV studio for eight years.

             
TIME: A big part of that was you, though, was it not?

             
MM: Maybe. I had help from Dick Van Dyke, Jean Stapleton and Rob Reiner, too. Maybe people tuned in to see them?  (Smiles)

             
TIME: 1980 was a big election year. The Republicans led by George Bush and Bob Dole won. You didn't do any campaigning that year. Why?

             
MM: (Smiles) You make it sound like I was the deciding factor. But while Vice President Sanford was a good man and second in command, we had other differences that caused me to avoid the campaign that year.

             
TIME: He didn't like your perceived influence on RFK.

             
MM: It's nonsense of course. I had less influence on Bobby than on Jack. But other things were happening in 1980 besides the election.

             
TIME: Your television show wrapped up.

             
MM: Yes, but that gave me time for other projects, and I got back into movies.

             
TIME:  You had a string of hits:
Oh, My Darling
in 1981;
Helena!
in 1983;
King Harold's Mine
in 1985.  But then your work started to drop off:
Michael's Heart
in 1988;
Jodi and Dusty
in 1993 and finally the sequel to
The Misfits
called
The Lonesome
in 2001. Since then, you’ve had a few television appearances, but you essentially quit acting.

             
MM: I did quit! Those TV appearances were as myself.  There was no real acting involved.

             
TIME:  But why?  Your box office appeal certainly wasn’t in decline. 
The Lonesome
drew in 30 million opening weekend.