The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 10: Ain't No Sunshine (Part 5 of 6)

R.J. lay on his back stroking Nikki's hair. Her breath warmed the shallow between his chest and belly. Early morning light snuck through a crack in the drapes and cast a sliver of gold across the sheets.

"I don't want this to ever end," Nikki said.

His fingers toyed their way through the strands behind the shell of her ear. It was good to be here, like this. But the word that his traitorous mind clung to was end.

The word pulled him out of the dreamy, soft, doze into the hard reality of wakefulness. "You have to go back," he said not sure if the words were to remind her or himself that the end was inevitable.

"Don't ruin the moment." Groaning, she buried her face into his skin, but after a moment she turned around to face him. "What if I didn't have to go back? Hear me out, yeah. We could start over down here. Start fresh. We could open a little place on the beach. I could cook and you could tend bar."

R.J. felt himself falling into the fantasy. It would be easy to lose himself in the thought of a simple life with Nikki on this beautiful beach. "I don't know much about bartending."

"What do you need to know? You just have to serve beers and margaritas to gringo tourists."

"You should go back to your life. Your restaurant."

"And you really can't come with me?"

"Perhaps you forgot the part about the Feds looking to arrest me for kidnapping a minor and transporting her over state lines. And those pesky military helicopters who show up wherever I am." R.J. was exaggerating, he knew. Those helicopters only came the one time and it was because of Amy not him. But it still felt like a valid point.

"Are you sure you're not just pushing me away because you're still mad?"

The answer of no came quick to his lips but then he wondered: was it true? Was there still some lingering mistrust motivating him? Pushing him away from the possibility of happiness?

Out on the open sea, when she told him about her secret life spying on him, gravity had failed. His body heaved in a roller-coaster descent from the influx of emotion, as painful and direct as a punch in the gut. Betrayal and lies shred his memories. What was real anymore?

R.J. had lived in a world of broken glass for a long time. After his marriage with Mila had crumbled, he had never believed that anyone would love him ever again. And now, here was proof. Nikki was only with him because she was being paid.

Through her tears, she asked him to forgive her. R.J. didn't want to. The desire was strong to twist his hurt into rage. But the rage found little foundation to build on. He was all too aware he had done nothing but lie to her from the moment they met. Maybe he had never lied about his feelings for her, but he had given her no reason to trust him either. In the hours of silence before docking at a pier in Campeche, Mexico, R.J. realized the only one true thing he was sure about was that he loved her. The days since, had been like a honeymoon. They rented cottage a couple of blocks from the mantra of the rolling surf and spent most of their time in bed.

But was he telling her to go because he was afraid of being hurt again?

No, he decided. Caring about her meant sending her away. The life of a fugitive was going to be an unknown hell and the last thing he wanted was to put her through that.

"I forgave you," he said intertwining his fingers in hers. "But there's no future here. I don't even know if I can take care of myself. I'd never be able to take care of you the way I should."

"Perhaps I'll take care of you. Ever think of that?"

"Perhaps," he said. "But you shouldn't throw your life away to do it."

"That's my decision, not yours."

"I'm too hungry to talk about this now," he said only half joking.

"Well, get us some breakfast." She playfully slapping his shoulder and added with exaggerated force. "And coffee."

R.J. got up. After a long kiss goodbye, he said, "Back soon. Promise," and stumbled out into the bright day still buttoning up his shirt.

He probably could start a life down here with Nikki. They could use the cash from the sale of Bill's boat to get a little place. R.J. had only gotten a fraction of what the boat was worth, but along with the money he had brought for Amy's rescue, it amounted to a modest fortune. Enough to get started anyway. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

Although they'd have to move to a different town, far away from here. The men who bought the boat were certainly criminals. They didn't ask questions about ownership or the blood stains on the deck, which was good at the time. But they wouldn't hesitate to sell R.J. out if anyone came around asking about him.

In the fresh air of a new day, R.J. could see the life they could have—so much simpler than the life before. They'd wake early and stroll to the market. Buy fresh fish and vegetables for the day ahead and then go to their restaurant. It wouldn't be much, just a shack on the beach with a palapa roof and a grill out back. They'd work all day, then watch the sun go down in each other's arms.

"Excuse me, senor..." A man stopped him. He was holding a map and was dressed for a colder climate than the day ahead held. His accent was hard to place. Something eastern European. His skin was even paler than R.J.'s. The phrase Nikki had used, gringo tourist, came to mind. "Can you help me? I'm looking for the Temple of San Jose. Do you know the way?"

R.J. glanced around trying to find his bearings. He hadn't been out much but they had passed the church on a late night walk. "I think it's over this...no, over this way." He pointed with the confidence of a compass needle.

Tires screeched on the street beside him. Before he could turn to look, the day went black. Rough cloth pressed against his face. Someone was right behind him, using the sack covering his head to pull him backward. Panic spiked adrenaline and his heart shuddered in his chest. His elbow made contact with ribs. His foot struck out at muscle. Something immeasurably solid slammed against the back of his head sending strobes of color against his blind eyes.

Stunned, he didn't resist as hands shoved him into the car. The doorframe scraped his shoulder, the smell of sunbaked upholstery filled his nose, the vinyl seats stuck to his bare arms.

"Not so hard," the man with the map said in his accented English. "We're supposed to deliver him alive."

R.J. mule kicked out the car door and caught only empty air.

"See. He's alive," another man said. "Too alive."

The metal bar smashed his tender lower back and his body clenched up like an armadillo under attack. He was pushed the rest of the way inside and someone scooted in after him. The door slammed and they drove off. 

***

Author's Note: Just a little check in. Is anyone else anxious for the end of chapter 10? I feel like I've been writing it for a year--almost fooled myself this morning that it was the last part.  Next week, it will finally be done with. And then we're at the end of book 2. I was originally planning on having it go until chapter 12 but I outlined the rest of the book and decided to have only one more long chapter instead. My goal is to wrap it up before the end of August, so I'll be doing a bunch of multi-part postings. If I'm able. At least there are lots of exciting things in 11 that I can't wait to tell you, so hopefully that'll provide more inspiration than 10 did.