Pandora's Box

by Camilla Porter

  “I wonder what the hell happened back there,” I hear one of the EMTs say. “The two DOA’s back there, wasn’t one the officer that was killed not too long ago? The other one was a gang member for sure. He rode with me a few months ago after a stabbing. Needed seventy five stitches.”

  “Travis…” I manage to eek out interrupting their conversation.

  “Look who’s awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Travis…” I say again.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” they ask again.

  “Travis…my son.”

  “Your son is fine ma’am. We found your emergency contacts in your phone and your mother came and got him. They’re going to meet you at the hospital.”

  “Thank God,” I say closing my eyes and sighing. “What about Elena?”

  “I’m sorry who?”

  “The woman back there…Elena. Where did she go?”

  “Ma’am there was no one else at the site. Who ever this woman is she was gone by the time we got there. Now, we’re going to have to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind…”

  --

  I spend three days in the hospital for my gun shot wounds, a concussion, and a broken nose. Both Isaac and the gang member were shot dead, and Elena was gone without a trace along with the money.

  When I got home, I spent a few days trying to find her to no avail even contacting her mother’s nursing home to find out that a trust had been set up to pay for her care but there was no name attached to it and was just an automatic payment every month from a private bank.

  “So what now?” my mother asks as I settle into a lounge chair on the back deck while Travis and Lancelot play on the beach.

  It’s six months later, and my injuries have mostly healed. I spent a few weeks doing desk duty at work, but after everything that happened my heart just wasn’t into the job anymore so I decided to retire, selling the house to compensate for the retirement years I had to buy back to get my pension. That still left me with a large chunk of change that would more than carry me and Travis over until I could decide what I wanted to do in the future.

  “I don’t know mom. I think I’m going to take that extended vacation we talked about. Travis is going off to computer camp this summer for six weeks, and I need something like that in my life right now. Something tropical. Maybe Hawaii. Maybe Cuba. I don’t know yet. Just somewhere to clear my mind you know?”

  “You loved her? Didn’t you?” she asks as she reaches over and takes my hand.

  “Yeah,” I say as a tears spill slowly from the corners of my eyes. “I did. I really did.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Elena

  Leaving the bodega, I place the small bag of groceries I just bought into the basket of my red moped as I pull my hair up on top of my head. The humid air has settled thickly around me, and the pools of sweat have begun to pool in my hair line and slide down the sides of my face. I was still getting used to the fact that the afternoons were much hotter than the mornings, and I needed to remember that I should plan my shopping for earlier hours. Luckily it was just a short drive to where I was renting a small home on the beach.

  At twelve thousand eight hundred and seventy five pesos, or five hundred American dollars per week, the price was kind of steep for a one bedroom house but it was on the beach and I loved the view so for me it was worth it.

  As I pull into my drive, I can immediately tell that something is off. I can see the front door to the house is open just slightly so I open the side bag on my moped and take out my pistol. Most likely a vagrant but I’m not going to take the chance it may be someone from the states looking for their money.

  I walk into the living area, which is open spaced into the kitchen with the bedroom and bathroom to the left down a long hall that leads out onto the back deck, with my gun pointed out in front of me.

  “Jesus Christ,” she says jumping up from the open refrigerator and spilling splashes from the water purifier onto the floor.

  “Sam, what the fuck?” I ask as I put the gun down and close my eyes. “What are you doing sneaking around like that? You could get your head blown off.”

  “Well, I was kind of hoping that you could blow something else off…and it wasn’t my head.”

  “How in the hell did you find me? You were supposed to call first.” I ask.

  “You know, it wasn’t that hard. An American Moreno on vacation? How hard could it possibly be?”

  “Son of a bitch, I fucking told you. How could I forget that?”

  “Oh now you remember. I figured not leaving a trace was a better option. Not to mention I missed the hell out of you. Even though you are the most complicated person I’ve ever met in my entire life. But you know what? I fucking love you.”

  “Dear God, I fucking love you too,” I say as I put my gun down on the counter and rush into her arms, our mouths crashing wildly together. I pick her up, pressing her against the refrigerator, pushing her head back and licking hotly at her neck. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur against her neck. “I’m so, so, sorry.” I move my lips over her jawline to her mouth, whispering my apologies into her sweet skin as her hands tangle in my hair then smooth it out as she answers, “It’s okay,” over and over and over again.

  --

  “What took you so long to get here?” I ask as I snuggle in behind her naked body and cup her breasts.

  “Well, there were a few injuries I needed to heal from first, remember? And I told you it would be probably about six months. Had to make it look good you know?”

  “I know. I just missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “So what’s next? I’m a fugitive now. I can never go back.”

  “I don’t know,” she says leaning her head back against my shoulder as I nuzzle my lips against her cheek. “Right before I left I was contacted by someone from Murray and Baker.”

  “The publishing company?”

  “That’s the one. They want me to write a book. About my whole experience with Isaac. And with you.”

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “I’m not sure. It might be a little difficult because I have no idea what I’d include and not include. Like how we planned this double cross while laying in bed together in the panic room? Do we really want to look like the bad guys?”

  “But we’re not. At least in the grand scheme of things we’re the least of the bad guys.”

  “There is actually some truth to that. But it’s also going to be difficult because, if I’m being honest, I have no idea how any of this is going to end.”

  “How many chapters do you think it will end up being?”

  “I was thinking between ten and eleven.”

  “Ten or eleven? That’s it?”

  “Yeah, why?” she asks turning her head to look at me.

  “Because that’s not nearly enough. Why don’t we make at least one more?” I say as I press my lips to hers, slipping them open as my tongue snakes against hers. Slowly I move over her, slipping my thigh between her legs, and rocking gently.

  And as we made love we both realized that what she had said was true. Neither of us had any idea how this was going to end. But I figured that if we kept adding chapters to it we would never have to.

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