The Gambit

by Allen Longstreet

  He was talking about the money he stole in the beginning. He promised Briana and my cousins 350K, and he kept his end of the deal. I assumed Grey kept a portion for his self, but I didn’t know for sure. When I was finally let out, I returned to my apartment in Raleigh. Unfortunately, I was evicted for three months overdue on rent. During that time, I kept receiving mail. I found a letter from a Swiss Bank. It was a statement. I was surprised to find I had three-hundred and fifty thousand dollars in it. I knew it was Grey.

  You thought that all Owen and I were talking about on the terrace that night was how much he loved you, but that wasn’t all. He told me to make sure you got that money no matter what. So now you know…

  I felt a smile tug at my lips.

  That sly dog he was. I looked up at the sky and wondered if he could see me now, thanking him for all he did for me in the time we knew each other.

  Our country is doing better than ever. Goodman is cleaning house in Washington and there is zero opposition. The American People support him wholeheartedly. After the Confinement and discovering the massive lie they were spoon-fed just before the elections, I am pretty sure that is the reason they are all for him. He will be a good president. The stocks are up, spending is up, and crime is down. People are finally getting back to normal again, which is hard for most to remember what that was like…

  Just remember, Rach, you are always welcome to come back. I am still in Virginia for now, but I think I might be moving soon. Too many memories for me here, and I am sure you know the feeling. I want to go somewhere warm. How is the weather over there? Maybe I should join you. Well, anyway, I hope to hear from you soon. The other papers you see are photocopies of your article. I wasn’t sure if you ever got to read it. It is excellent, by the way. It couldn’t have been better executed. Oh, and somewhere between those papers I stuck in two pictures of Owen. One was from another article Ian published in the newspaper, and the other one you took…

  I took?

  It was from Viktor’s Nikon—the one you took to see Owen just before he…Yeah, you know, I don’t have to say it.

  My stomach dropped from the thought of seeing him in a picture. Would I be able to contain the tears? I decided to skim through my article first. I picked up the paper, and two pictures fell out. I flipped them over before I could see them. I straightened the papers out and began to read.

  The Gambit

  By: Rachel Flores

  The New Year came all too quickly for Viktor Ivankov, who was Port of New York’s Chief X-Ray Radiography operator. He informed me that during the holidays, the federal government paid visits to his department on numerous occasions, but a certain woman stuck out more than the rest—Veronica Hall. Ivankov began to keep a record of the containers he x-rayed during the day and put them on a flash drive. He knew his work habits were being studied, and soon, he was framed for a crime he didn’t commit…

  I continued skimming, and it made me emotional reliving the hours it took to write this. It was emotional and painful. I went through everything from the beginning with Viktor, to when I decided to approach Owen at the coffee shop that fateful morning. Then, I quickly highlighted our journey, but made sure to pepper in the evidence throughout the story. I tried to finish it with something that would hit home and resonate with people.

  Veronica Hall was behind the murder of Owen Marina. There are many other officials involved, which will soon come to light. As a country, we should never forget the sacrifice he made for us. Owen was a pawn on the chessboard, and the queen took him out of this world. He had the courage to fight until the end, for all of you. He went through the Confinement, just as I did, and just as you all did. That memory, that bond—it’s powerful. He knew that if he let Veronica win, we would all lose. None of us would be safe, and the process would begin again. We could have been put into a Confinement that never ends. No one wants that, and he didn’t either. It was an honor to assist him in his struggle and to be able to document the process. As you share this article with your loved ones, keep one thing in mind. Owen Marina died for us, and we shouldn’t let his life be in vain. We can’t let the people who did this win. We the people rule this country, not the governing body. Honor him, and make the decision to fight back against the people who did this to us. So, the real question is, are we going to sit back on the sidelines and watch as our country falls to pieces? Or, are we going to take action and become a part of history? The choice is ours. 11-02-2016.

  I titled it the Gambit, because that was what Viktor called him in the basement when he and Natasha kidnapped us.

  ‘Don’t you see what I am trying to say to you, Owen? All you are is a gambit to them! You are a fucking sacrifice! You are just a pawn and Veronica is the queen. If you go through with your plan, I promise you, they will win. Don’t be their gambit. Don’t give yourself up so easily.’

  I could still see the vein in Viktor’s forehead pulse as he yelled at him. Sadly, he was right. Owen was their sacrifice.

  I turned the first picture over. It was Owen, and he had a determined stare on his face. His hands were high in the air, and his knees were just barely bent as if he were about to start kneeling. His dyed, black hair was sweaty and disheveled. I brushed my finger across the photo, and emotions swam around my insides. It was such an intense picture, with the dozens of cops surrounding him with their automatic weapons. I almost thought if I stared long enough I would be able to see his chest heave up and down in breathing. Although, this photo was the moment before his death, I had never seen him look more alive. It was beautiful.

  I picked up the other one and immediately giggled. Owen was staring back at me with a huge grin, holding an Asian woman by his side. She was grinning equally as wide, but her teeth weren’t quite as nice as his. I flipped it over on the back, and it looked like Grey had written on it with a pen.

  Raleigh, North Carolina — 10-13-2016

  The thirteenth. I pulled out my phone and flipped back through my calendar. That was the night before we met. I clutched the photo to my chest and wiped my eyes as tears began to form As much as it hurt, I would have to keep this photo for memory’s sake. A photo was a photo, though. It wasn’t the real thing.

  I shuffled through more of the papers and realized that Grey had written some more on the back of one of the papers. I began reading.

  Anyway, Rachel. I hope to see you again. Never forget how much he cared about you, all right? It still saddens me that he died despite the precautions me and Viktor took…

  My forehead scrunched up at the word—precautions?

  What was he referring to? How come I hadn’t known about this?

  Huh, interesting.

  Enjoy France. Get some sun, and let time heal the wounds you have. I know you think they will never go away, but take it from someone who is dealing with the same thing you are right now, they will. Take care of yourself, Rachel.

  Love, Grey. 2-15-2017

  I put the letter down and wiped the tears out of the corners of my eyes. I knew Grey was right, but it was hard to accept right now. In my mind, it felt like time couldn’t heal all wounds. To me, nothing could get rid of the aching hole in my chest besides him. It would have helped if I had my mom here to console me, but she was gone, too. I felt like I had been dealt the shittiest cards at the table, and I hadn’t even a single chip to cash in. We won, but I lost.

  My promise still haunted me to this day. I promised him everything would be all right.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,’

  ‘Why did you just say me? You will be fine, too. We are going to get you out of this mess. I promise.’

  ‘Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Rachel.’

  He was right all along. I couldn’t keep my promise, and the fact that he wasn’t here made me feel even more morose. I could still hear the eerie tone in his voice as he said, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’ It was like he knew. He knew all along he wouldn’t make it out alive, and that notion destroyed me inside. And n
ow, it was all over, and I was okay. I broke my promise.

  Chatter surrounded me, and there were people at the many tables nearby. All amidst conversation, except me. I sat alone with a cup of coffee, as I had for over two months now. I wondered if I would ever feel whole again. Sure, the memory of him was enough to keep me going, but part of me didn’t want to move on. I didn’t want to let go. How could I let go of someone I never got the chance to call mine?

  I couldn’t. That was the answer. I still wanted Owen, but he was gone.

  “Mademoiselle,” the waiter’s voice said beside me. “Pour vous.”

  He placed a vase full of red and purple roses on the table in front of me. I glanced back up at him confused.

  “Pour moi?” I asked, almost breathless.

  “Oui,” he said with a smile and walked away.

  No, it can’t be. There is no way…

  My breath was shallow as I stared at them, and they were so beautiful. My heart fluttered, and my mouth remained agape. There was a little white tag attached to the glass vase. I grabbed it and paused before opening it. I rubbed the stock paper just to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. I drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. I opened it.

  Bonnie,

  Today, is one day.

  — Clyde.

  There was a rock in my throat as the tears began to flow. A tremor arose within me, and I struggled to compose myself in front of everyone. The words echoed in my mind as if I had just heard them yesterday.

  “Don’t worry, Rachel. One day.”

  “One day?”

  “One day you’ll get flowers.”

  Every ounce of my being felt a mix of emotions so extreme I couldn’t tell if I was crying out of sadness or joy. I gently rubbed one of the purple petals between my index finger and thumb. Owen’s voice resurfaced once more. This time, it was from the night in Miami.

  “What is your favorite color?”

  “Red,” he answered. “Yours?”

  “Purple.”

  Red and purple roses. He signed the card Clyde.

  I choked and struggled to wipe my eyes to clear my blurred vision. I became overwhelmed with a sensation I couldn’t describe. It was as if all the pain I had kept bottled up since he died dissipated into thin air. It had to be him. How could he have known where I was going to be? I was smiling now, streaking the tears across my face as I wiped them. I let out a laugh, and the love I felt for Owen surged throughout my body. A gentle breeze blew past, and for a moment, I could have sworn I caught his scent in the air. This feeling was too strong to be anything but real, and I felt him. His presence was here. I could feel it. I sobbed harder at the thought of seeing him again, but my soul told me it wasn’t lying. I cleared the tears from my eyes and drew in one long, steadying inhale. I let it out and grinned as the feeling only grew stronger. He was here. He had to be. I wasn’t afraid anymore, and for the first time since the day he left me I didn’t feel alone. We would have our time together. This was just the beginning.

  My heart was full of love, and there was only one thing left to do.

  I looked up.

  About the Author

  Allen Longstreet is a fiction author who resides in Hickory, North Carolina. Now at 22, he is attending college for a degree in creative writing, and has also been writing since he was a child. He has a preference in post-apocalyptic and dystopian. Allen has a strong interest in contemporary issues and problems society faces in this day and age. He plans on writing across a broad-spectrum of fiction, creating characters and stories we all can become attached to. Allen is an indie author and reviews are the backbone to an indie author’s career. If you have any comments or would like to leave a review of this book, please go on Amazon and Goodreads to leave your opinion.