Can't Let Her Go

“Did you break the Irish fool’s elbow?” Anakin asks.

I know why he is asking about Eddie. People like Eddie are disgusting cockroaches to him and he wouldn’t dream of wasting even a second enquiring about them, but once, a long time ago, I accidentally revealed a soft spot for their struggling souls and ever since, it has become his mission to crush that tiny bud of weakness inside me.

I’m twenty-four years old and my life is a meaningless, unfeeling journey of violence and depravity. This weak seedling of compassion is the only human emotion I have left and I’d let him snuff out my life rather than kill it. I shrug and keep my face expressionless. “I got as much from him as I could. If I’d broken his elbow, he wouldn’t be able to work. If he can’t work, he won’t pay, and then, you’re going to tell me to cap his knee.” I shrug again.

Anakin’s black eyes flash with irritation. “When will you understand the symbolic value of violence? Why do you think Mexicans carve off the faces of their enemies and lay it beside the corpse? You think they got nothing better to do?”

“Men like him never learn their lessons, so I’ll probably have to put him in the ground inside six months, but today was not the day.”

He studies me with that unreadable grin of his.

I don’t know if he’s going to pat me on the back, or stick his gun in my ear.

“You know, that’s why I like you, Hunter. You think before you march to the music. I admire that. I can use that. I can give you a job and know you won’t embarrass me. That’s a good trait.”

I nod because there is no telling if he’s sincere, or setting me up for something really bad, but I suspect it’s the latter.

“Your passport up to date?” he asks, changing the subject completely.

I don’t know why he wants to know about my passport, but I’m not going to ask. “Yeah.”

“Great, great, cause I got a collection for you.”

“Collection?”

“In Russia. I got a package I want you to pick up.”

What the hell is going on? I stare at him in astonishment. I already don’t like the sound of this. “Like a Fedex package?”

He chuckles, but it’s not a good chuckle. Russians don’t do chuckles well. It’s a guffaw, or nothing. “I like that,” he says. “A Fedex package. No, it would be very hard to send this package by Fedex. I need you to pick it up. Ordinarily, I would send Anton, but as you know, he’s up the river. He’s … out of commission at the moment.”

Anakin has a knack for killing off his darlings. You never want to be Anakin’s darling. Anton never understood that simple lesson. I keep my voice light so he doesn’t catch on. “I don’t speak Russian,” I lie.

“I never taught you Russian because I don’t need you to know it. You will fly into Moscow and hook up with a guide. He’ll handle all the talking. The package is ready to go. All you got to do is pick it up and not lose it. You do that, and you’ll earn yourself a very nice bonus.”

“Yeah, but …”

His face changes and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. He’s picked me for this task and that’s all there is to it. I don’t get to pick and choose. “Hunter,” he says very softly. With Anakin, the lower his voice becomes the more worried you should get. “This is a very important package, so important I’m willing to spend a lot of money to bring it back. I know you’re thinking it’s drugs, or some contraband that Customs will find and throw you into prison for a lifetime … or two. It ain’t that way. The package is legit. I wouldn’t lose you for anything. You’re my boy. My best boy.”

“All right. What is it?”

“You’ll find out when you get there. Just follow the guide.”

What is so important about this package that I have to fly half way around the world to get it? He’s never even allowed me to leave America before. It doesn’t make sense and perhaps that’s the point. I’m not supposed to understand. I’m just the delivery man. Mr. UPS. To know more is to know too much.

“Your plane leaves in six hours and if I were you, I’d dress warm. It’s always cold and unpredictable.”

“Moscow?”

“Moscow is just the first stop. That’s where you pick up your Sherpa and the train.”

“I need a Sherpa?”

“In Russia, everyone needs a Sherpa, especially when you’re looking at being on the train for three days.”

“Three days?”

“First class, Hunter, first class.” He says the words as if they’re some kind of talisman, something that justifies everything else.

I don’t need first class. I need someone to tell me the plan because it feels as if I’ve just stepped into the twilight zone. Anakin smiles again and it comes to me. I’m a sacrificial lamb. I wonder if he’ll bother with a round-trip ticket because I don’t expect to make it back. I cannot refuse my father. I have to go even if it means the end for me.

I don’t have a choice.

I have to get on that plane and I have to meet my “Sherpa” in Moscow, and I have to catch a train (maybe). The train might be a mirage, something glimpsed just before you die of hypothermia on some barren wasteland in Russia.

I stand.

Anakin tilts his chin. His eyes drill into my being. “Hunter, the reason you are getting this job is because you are like a son to me. This is very important to me, really important. You do this right and you can rise in the organization. I need someone who has my back and will do the jobs no one else will do. And it’s not just money. There will come a day when I won’t be here and the next in line will take it over. That person could be you. Understand?”

I nod automatically, but I feel no pleasure or satisfaction. I know that this is the Russian mob. They’re not going to let a guy named ‘Hunter’ take over. It’s not in the cards, but I can’t tell Anakin that. I have to let him think I’m gung-ho for this. In fact, I think it’s a crock of whatever. I smile and nod and nod again. I’m the good soldier for my father.

On the way back to my apartment, I think of all the ways this trip to Russia can go wrong. I don’t have enough fingers. This is the road to hell and I’m driving a fucking Ferrari at full speed down it.

Katya

For two days, I worry about how I’m going to protect my sister. I know in my gut that if I am whisked away, never to be seen again, my parents will automatically assume I’m as ungrateful as Mrs. Komarov’s daughter. Unperturbed, they will still sign my sister up for the program. I think about it constantly. And then it comes to me late at night as I lie in bed watch

ing her sleep. Her face untroubled and innocent.

My real value to the program is my virginity. That’s the requirement. All the girls have to be a virgin. We will be examined by a doctor in Moscow. What if I’m not a virgin? One little slip, and I wouldn’t be one anymore. I’ll be just another deflowered girl who isn’t fit for D-day.

I consider my options.

Stay a virgin, get taken away and condemn my sister to the same fate. Or … I could find a man to have sex with, which will disqualify me for the program. My mind starts whirling at the possibility and the consequences. I will be a fallen woman. The villagers will gossip about me. Obviously, my parents will be absolutely furious at the loss of face. My father may even disown me, but I will offer to take over the task of providing for our family. Then I will go to Moscow, work there and send money back.

But the true benefit will be enjoyed by my sister. Once I am kicked out of the program my family will no longer be trusted with the important task of providing another candidate to represent our village. My sister will be saved.

The only question becomes how to go about becoming a non-virgin. There are not a lot of options in my village, especially for a girl who has never even been on a date. Ever since my parents enrolled me in the program, they have protected me by keeping all the boys at bay. But I know there is a place where girls can ‘hook up’ with a man for temporary pleasure. The prospects won’t be stellar, probably not even palatable, but I don’t have many choices. Any man will do. I’ll find someone. It can’t be that hard.

This morning I go to see Irina and tell her what Mrs. Komarov told me.

Her eyes grow round as saucers. “What are you going to do?” she whispers.

“I’m going to lose my virginity,” I whisper back.

Her mouth drops open. “What? You can’t. What about your parents?”

“Yes, I can. My parents will get over it.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe this is happening. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. This is the only way to protect Tatyana.”