by Nicole Fox
“Then let’s do it.”
He walked over to the back of the car and sized the situation up.
“Nothing in there you want?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said, not missing a beat.
Russell opened the driver’s side door and gave the parking break a pull. Then he returned to the back of the car and gave it a push. The car lurched a few inches, the gravel crackling under the weight of the tires.
“Cory, get over here and help.”
Cory shuffled over, and I could tell by his body language that he was still having major hesitations about what we were doing. The two of them placed their hands on the back of the car and prepared to shove. I watched with eager eyes, ready to see the only physical proof of my old life tip over the edge of the quarry and sink into the black.
“You know what?” said Russell. “You get over here and help too.”
My eyes went wide, and for a brief second I wanted to say something about him not being very gentlemanly. But I checked myself and did as he asked.
“You’re getting your hands dirty with this shit, too,” he said.
I nodded and turned towards the car, my hands on the cool metal.
“All right,” said Russell. “On three. One, two, three—””
We all gave the car a shove. It moved quickly over the gravel, and once it started moving under its own weight we took our hands off of it. It rolled down towards the edge and disappeared off.
Just like that, it was gone.
Seconds later, I heard a dull splashing sound. I rushed over to the side of the quarry and looked over. Barely, I could see the outline of the car in the purple water below, but only for a second. A few moments later, it sank into the water.
“Done,” said Russell, turning to me as he dusted his hands. “Now you’re dead.”
I felt a sense of relief wash over me. If this plan worked, then I was now a free woman. Logan would find out sooner or later that my car had been found in the quarry, and he’d have to assume that I was dead. His search would be called off, and that would be it. Sure, there was the issue of me officially no longer being alive, but I knew I could figure out the details later.
But as of now, I was a woman disappeared. My new life started right then and there. Little did I know what kind of life lay ahead of me.
Chapter Five
Alyssa
“Now what the fuck are we gonna do with this chick?” asked Cory. “We still got a job to do, after all.”
Russell gave the matter some thought, knowing that his brother was right.
“I’ve got something in mind,” he said, looking me over once again. “You’re coming with us.”
“What?” I asked. “Why? What do you want with me?”
“No questions,” said Russell. “I just did you the favor to end all favors. We’re about to do a sale. You come with us, stay in the car, and I’ll figure out what we’re doing with you after that.”
“Oh. Okay.”
What else could I say? He was right—he’d done me a favor that could’ve very well saved my life. ’I wasn’t sure what exactly I could help him with, but it was the least I could do.
“Jesus, bro,” said Cory. “You’re outta your mind with this shit.”
Russell didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he grabbed the bag of weapons off of the ground and headed off. He disappeared into the dark of the nearby trees, and Cory hurried after him.
My heart was pounding in my chest. What did he have in mind with me? Had I just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire? Either way, I didn’t really have a choice, unless I wanted to take my chances on my own. And with no identity and only a few dollars to my name, that didn’t sound like a particularly appealing option.
So, I followed the brothers into the woods. I soon caught up with them and we walked in silence.
“Where’s that other car?” asked Cory.
“You mean the one I bought used, like we were supposed to?” Russell responded, his tone sardonic.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Cory. “We almost there?”
But before Russell responded, we arrived at a small clearing in the woods. Parked there was a black truck, the bed covered with a large piece of tarp. Russell opened the back of the truck and heaved the guns under the tarp.
“Get in,” said Russell. “We’re running late.”
The three of us piled into the truck. There weren’t any backseats, so I was crammed between the brothers. And as Russell started the engine and began to drive down the unpaved road that led from the clearing onto the main highway, I couldn’t help but notice how hard and warm his arm was against my body.
Jesus, Alyssa, I thought to myself. This isn’t the time to be thinking about stuff like that.
But I couldn’t help it.
We drove in silence, the car rumbling quietly over the road. Eventually, we arrived back in New York, the glittering towers of Manhattan appearing in the distance. My stomach tightened as we arrived; though I was probably a little safer with these two, I still couldn’t shake the idea that I was going right back into the city from which I had been trying to escape. Every pedestrian that we passed seemed to have Logan’s face.
“Where’s this place?” asked Cory. “Queens?”
“Astoria,” said Russell. “That same place where you nearly got us fucking killed a few months back. Remember? Because I do.”
“Jesus, Russ,” said Cory, his tone defensive. “I didn’t know that was Mr. Jensen’s fuckin’ girlfriend. She looked like his goddamn mother to me.”
“I said it before and I’ll say it again—who the fuck would bring their goddamn mother into a weapons-buy?”
“Eh, lay off,” said Cory, swatting his hand through the air. “I already said my fuckin’ sorries.”
I said nothing, my heart still pounding like a drum. We entered one of the few parts of Astoria that was still mostly warehouses, not having yet been converted into the expensive condos that were popping up everywhere in Queens these days. Eventually, we came to a stop in front of a nondescript warehouse. Russell killed the engine and opened his door.
“You. Stay,” he said, looking me dead in the eyes.
Up close, his icy-blue eyes and low, commanding voice almost had a hypnotic effect. He probably could’ve told me to grab one of the guns and go rob the nearest bank and I would’ve listened.
The brothers got out and, bag in tow, entered the warehouse. I placed my hand on my chest as they disappeared inside; it was beating even faster than before. This was all so much for me. Only a couple of hours ago I had been eating crappy food in a diner and wondering desperately what my next move was to be, and now I was something like an accomplice on a gunrunning operation. And on top of everything, I still had no idea just what Russell had in mind for me.
After a time, the brothers returned. The giant bag that I’d been hidden under was now gone, replaced by a small black gym bag that dangled from Russell’s hand. The two of them climbed back in the car, and Russell tossed the bag on the floor by my feet.
“See how much easier everything is when you keep your fucking mouth shut?” asked Russell, starting the car.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Cory. “Now lemme see that fuckin’ money again.”
He reached down for the bag and plopped it onto his lap. After rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he unzipped the bag.
I gasped when I saw the contents.
Inside was easily the largest amount of money I’d ever seen in person. Stack and stacks of hundreds were shoved in there, the bills fresh and crisp. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch them. Just one of those stacks looked like it would be enough for me to get out of the city and start a new life wherever I wanted.
Cory picked up one of the stacks and ran his thumb over the end, flipping through it like a deck of cards.
“Mmm,” he said, a smile on his face. “Not a goddamn thing nicer-smelling than a fresh stack of hundies.”
“Put that shit away,�
� said Russell, his eyes on the road. “Lotta NYPD out here would love to take that shit off of our hands and throw us in Riker’s for the trouble.”
“Fine, fine,” said Cory, zipping up the bag and shoving it back down on the floor. “Anyway, now what? We gonna go get fuckin’ wild with this cash or what, bro?”
Russell shot Cory a steely, severe look.
“No. We’re going to go back to our apartments and let this shit cool down for a few days. We just pulled off a major gun sale and I don’t wanna draw any attention to ourselves. And the way you spend money seems to be for the express purpose of doing just that.”
“Aw, man,” said Cory. “You’re no fun.”
We headed down into Brooklyn, reaching Bushwick. Eventually, we arrived at a rundown apartment complex and came to a stop.
“Ride’s over, bro,” said Russell.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a few bills from one of the stacks. “This is all you get for now.”
“What the fuck?” demanded Cory. “Half of that’s mine!”
“You wanna take this money and snort it up your nose or stick it into some stripper’s thong, you go right ahead. But not until the heat’s cooled down.”
Cory grumbled and got out of the car.
“Nice meeting you, toots,” he said, looking me up and down in a way that made my skin crawl.
I’d been so overcome with anxiety since the deal’d been done that all I could manage was an awkward half smile. Not to mention that something about Cory struck me as not on the level. The brothers might have both been criminals, but at least Russell seemed to be a little more level-headed.
“Um, now where?” I asked Russell, my voice weak.
“My place.”
And that was that. His tone didn’t suggest that he was looking to discuss the subject.
We drove through Brooklyn, heading further east, ending up somewhere around Bed-Stuy. Soon, we arrived at a nondescript building. Russell pulled into the front and killed the engine.
“Now it’s time for you to talk,” he said, looking over at me with those cutting blue eyes.
“About what?” I asked, still feeling anxious from the events of the evening.
“‘About what’?” he asked, his tone dismissive. “What do you think? I found you in the back of some shitty car, nothing but that car and a pile of old clothes to your name. Then you ask me to ‘kill’ you. I want to know how a girl like you ends up in a situation like that. Just what the hell are you running from?”
I took a deep breath and prepared to speak. But before I could get a word out, Russell spoke again.
“And no bullshit. I can sniff a lie from a mile away.”
“I’m … running from a life that I couldn’t live in anymore. Just a bad relationship that I had to get out of. One bad decision after another. I had nothing to stay for, and nothing I cared about leaving behind.”
Russell looked me up and down, this time skeptically, as if looking for signs of dishonesty that I couldn’t help but show if I were lying. I was being vague, but I hoped my answer would be enough for him.
“Hmm,” was his response.
He looked out of the driver’s side window as if weighing what I’d just told him. After a time, he spoke.
“Well, I did what you asked— I made you disappear. What’s your name, anyway?”
“Alyssa,” I said.
“Alyssa,” he repeated. “Well, Alyssa, you’re dead now. You’ve got no identity. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, you’re a ghost.”
I considered his words. He was right; once I was marked as dead by the NYPD it would be like I wasn’t real.
“And here’s the thing: you’re my ghost.”
The words hit me like a disorienting blow to the back of the head. I wasn’t even sure that he’d said what he had.
“I’m … what?”
“You heard me. I did you a favor. The favor to end all favors, possibly. And now you belong to me.”
“What do you mean ‘belong to you’?” I asked.
“Meaning, as far as you’re concerned, you’re my property. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna put you to work for me until I’ve decided that you’ve paid me back to my satisfaction.”
What did he mean by that? I wondered.
“So … I’m going to be your slave?” I asked.
Russell let out a dry laugh.
“That’s a little more dramatic than I’d put it, but you’re in the ballpark. Think of it more like an indentured servant. You know what that is?”
It sounded familiar from my college days, but the exact meaning escaped me. To be honest, I was so shaken up that I probably couldn’t have even said what my middle name was if he’d asked me.
Russell must’ve seen that I was at a loss for words, so he continued.
“Way back when, property owners would put people to work on their farms. For the privilege of working for them, the farmers would owe the owner a major debt. Whatever the farmer made until that debt was paid off went right back to the owner, minus a little for the farmer to live. And once the debt was paid, the farmer could do whatever the fuck he wanted to. Stay, leave, the owner didn’t give a shit, just as long as he got what was his.”
“And … that’s what I’m going to be to you?”
“That’s right. You’re in the hole with me. Haven’t figured out just what I’m going to have you do for me, but I’ll think of something. And here’s the deal: once I’ve decided you’ve paid me back to my satisfaction, I’ll get in touch with some people who I know who’re into the false papers game. I’ll get you set up with a new identity, maybe even a little cash to get you started.”
A moment passed as I thought about what Russell had just said. I had no idea what he had in mind for me, just like before, but the idea of being able to start again with a new name … it was just too good to pass up. He clearly had the money and the means, and being able to get a new name, maybe a little cash, and get the hell out of this goddamn town was exactly what I needed. Short of murdering someone, there really wasn’t much he could ask of me that would justify me saying no.
“Otherwise I can send you out into the cold with the clothes on your back. But good luck getting a job or a place to live being officially dead. And I hear it’s going to be a shitty winter.”
I’d already made up my mind.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Russell flashed me that sly smile again.
“Thought you’d make the right call. Oh, and one more thing: now that you’re on board for this little arrangement, let me explain the terms to you.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, settling in and preparing to listen.
“You try to run, or you tell anyone about the job tonight, or any other jobs I do, I’ll kill you. That’s it.”
He opened his door and stepped out.
I stayed frozen for a few moments, the severity of what Russell had just said sinking in. Part of me wondered if he was just talking tough, but in the little time I’d known him, Russell didn’t really seem to be the type to blow smoke; that seemed to be his brother’s expertise.
Russell gave me a quick head tilt, one that said “hurry the hell up.” I scampered out of the car and made my way to his side.
“This is my place,” he said. “Follow me.”
I got out along with him and together we walked up to the building he’d parked in front of. The building was an old apartment block of gray stone, one that looked like it had seen better days. The inside wasn’t much better; the lobby was rundown and dingy, and the stairs leading up groaned and creaked under our weight. As we made our way up the dark and dirty stairs, I found myself wondering why someone like Russell, who seemed to have money, was living in a place like this.
Eventually, we arrived at a top-floor apartment. He opened the door and revealed a small apartment. It wasn’t as rundown as the rest of the building, but wasn’t exactly five-star digs. Russell flicked on the lights and I gasped at what t
hey revealed: one of the walls of the living room was packed full of shelf after shelf of weapons. I’d never seen so many guns in my life.
Russell made his way to the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge.
“That’s you right there,” he said, pointing with his hand that held the beer to a futon. “You can stay here for now; I’ll figure out where to keep you long-term later.”
Long term? I wondered as I walked further into the apartment. For just how long am I going to be his “indentured servant?”