White Nights, Black

Elena whispers softly to herself, repeating the words in the travel dictionary as though they are from an ancient text. She grips her seat tightly as the car jerks and lurches her forward, causing her to cease her study and focus on holding on. She spies a man a few feet down from her, vodka in hand, grasping it as if for dear life.

The stench of **** is ripe even from this distance.

Ah, the familiar stench of winos on the subway. The only thing missing is the New York Post.

?Kotopomy?Bahhar?komhata? Kotopomy?bahhar?komhata??

The passengers glance at her and shake their heads. An older man with Asiatic features bellows with laughter. Elena tries her best to ignore him. Yet she can?t help but feel like the butt of jokes. Now she understands what the Vasquez twins must have endured when they mistakenly pronounced ?The Era of Good Feeling? as ?The Area of Good Feeling?.

She shrugs them off, immersing herself in her book. She tosses the dictionary in her purse and gets off as the calm voice over the intercom announces her destination in English?one of the few things she is thankful for in this town. Elena ignores the tightening in her stomach. The pain in her groin as she tries to ?hold it in? isn?t nice either.

She glances at the throng of Moscovites passing her. Their faces are apathetic. Clueless. Not a soul stops to render assistance, or even ask what is wrong. She is yet another dot in a sea of people, sans humanity, sans personality, sans everything.

?Kotopomy?bahhar?komhata?? Her voice is mousy and frightened. ?Kotopomy?bahhar?komhata? Kotopomy bahhar komhata??

A striking young man with black hair and kohl black eyes pulls her aside.

?Are you lost, little girl?? His accented English is pitch perfect, even sexy in a way.?

?Which way is the bathroom? I need to go really bad.?

? Down there.? He points behind her. ?Towards your right.?

?Thank you.?

As quickly as the man appears he becomes yet another dot in the throng. Elena dashes through the terminal, grateful for his assistance. His face reminds her of someone familiar. But she doesn?t quite know why. All she remembers is a similar looking man in a photo from a few days earlier, a face she was supposed to memorize.

As she washes her hands the Eureka moment strikes her like a tolling bell.

Her contact! Damn! She knew something important was supposed to go down today!

Elena races through the terminal, calling out for the mysterious stranger, but alas he is gone. She curses her luck and wanders up the stairs up to the city proper, hailing a cab towards her hotel nearby.

I should?ve listened to ****-Donna?s advice and taken a new assignment, but nooo?

As she stumbles into her darkened hotel room the full measure of the day?s humiliations weigh upon her. All she wants is to collapse on the bed and pretend like the last several hours never happened. Maybe order in a meal. Do they have pizza here?

?Hello?? A gruff voice interrupts her thoughts.

Her heart palpitates. Adrenaline pumps through her body as her muscles tense up. All the fears she?s harbored inside for days flood her brain as she wonders how the hell whoever it is wondered inside her room. Please don?t let it end this way, please God?

Darkness turns into a haze of orange light with a flick of a switch, revealing a rough, handsome man. Lean and trim with muscles to match. A cigarette dangles between his teeth as he inhales. Elena coughs.

?I couldn?t help but notice you on the train today?Had me in stitches. What is that phrase you Americans have? Fish out of water??

Oh, crap.

?What do you want?? The brunette pleads. ?Money? Jewelry? Please take my purse, all my cashier?s checks are in there. Just don?t hurt me.?

The stranger laughs heartily.

?Don?t worry, I won?t bite. I just curious if you could help me with something.?

?Help you with what?? Elena?s voice quiver. ?I don?t know anything.?

?Don?t be so coy.? The man admonishes her. ?The young man in the station. Do you know him??

?What young man??

A cryptic smile creeps over the Moscovite's face.

?You look like a sweet young girl?Where did you go to school??

?Emory. British Literature.?

?British Literature? I could tell you stories about the British?I imagine you have plenty of debts back home, right??

The intern nods.

?What if your debts were to suddenly disappear, da? No more bills to pay, no more worrying about a career. You can make your own choices. All you have to do is tell me where the young man is??

A cool breeze blows through the room, distracting their train of thought.

?I wish I could tell you, but I honestly don?t kn--.?

The stranger shushes her.

?Don?t make up your mind just yet. You have seventy two hours to make a decision. My business card is on the nightstand next to you.?

And just as there was light, light is taken away.

?Wait! I don?t understand!?

Yet all Elena gets as a response is a billow of curtains in the darkness.