Pandora's box

      As a fugitive in another country, I needed to act fast, my identity was to be kept a secret. My dad's death had left me no other option. I boarded a train to take me to Solkovia, the location given to me by one of my father's associates. I had no idea who he was and had never seen him before.

I knew very little of what was going on, but what I did know was that my father was dead and very powerful people were after my life.

       I had never been on a train before, it was quite the experience. I had never been in the midst of so many middle class people before. I held my luggage and a small black box marked with a red "X ". The contents of the box were unknown to me and it was mailed to my residence by another unknown person. The whole anonymous thing was getting me confused and I silently prayed to find answers.

I stared past the people seated. There was this lack of colour, this middle class aura, but I noticed someone different. He appeared to be watching my every move, every turn and flutter of my lashes, every wince, every grin....

I quickly stared away. He was wearing a black leather jacket and old blue jeans with a brown shirt. His physical features did not look regular, did not spell regular.

He looked like he was forced to sit there, in the train, in that position.

He was too good looking to be a regular middle class guy.

Probably he was here to kill me!

I stood up from my seat and began to move, he followed me. Ioved faster, past the rows of people sitting, to the ones standing, I made sure I was completely out of his sight.

Out of the blue, two big guys popped out of the crowd I was camouflaging myself with and started closing in on me.

Nobody seemed to notice anything, all those people and not a single soul noticed something unusual, or tried to stop them from assailing me.

How absurd!

Like I was invisible, except to the potential threat. They didn't even attempt to blend in, they wore dark suits and dark glasses and I was certain they had guns. I was scared to move forward because the other suspicious guy was probably waiting for me there.

" Miss Falcone, you're coming with us"

The one on the left said with a gruff Russian accent. I began to panic and in desperation screamed for help.

The crowd of people carried on as though they heard nothing.

One of the men grabbed my hand and the other pointed a gun at me. I bit his hand and ran forward, dragging my luggage but dropping the small box in the process.

          Miraculously, the train stopped. The door was left wide open for my escape.

I don't know where the courage came from, it was probably adrenaline. I quickly jumped out of the train, falling face first unto the gravel and dirt next to the tracks. I felt like I had broken my nose.

I stood up, dusted myself and grabbed my precious luggage looking around and finding that I had successfully placed myself in the middle of nowhere.

************

       I knew absolutely nothing about Russia and I had no idea where I was. It was at that moment that I remembered i had misplaced something, the box...

There was no chance of me getting it back and even if there was, I wouldn't risk my life for it.

I looked at the train in the distance slowly disappearing from my sight. Suddenly, I saw it stop, for a few seconds and continue moving again.

While it was moving, someone jumped down!

I wondered within myself why he didn't jump down when the train stopped.

He fell unto the ground, not face first like I did earlier. Like he practiced it, like he was used to jumping down from moving trains. Experience!

He started walking towards me. I would have gone the opposite direction if he wasn't holding the precious box. How did he get it and why?

These questions lingered.

       I walked to him to retrieve it, we both stopped when we were a foot away from each other. Then I recognised him, he was the guy staring at me on the train.

I stretched out my hand to collect my box and he took it for a handshake, deliberately.

Before I could say anything, he began

" Miss Charlotte, this may seem really strange to you but im afraid you'll have to come with me"

"Why should I? All I want is my box back and then maybe, I can think of a way back home. Besides, you're a stranger "

"Home? Youll be dead before you get to the airport"

I looked straight into his eyes for anything that would make me doubt his last sentence, I found none. Whether I was going to admit it or not, this strange man was right.

" We'll walk till we get to the open road, and then well board a taxi to your father's residence"

It's not like I had another choice, I had to comply. We started walking. I was walking very fast and I struggled to keep up because my luggage was slowing me down.

" You could slow down a bit" I said, dragging my burden behind me. He collected it without saying a word to me.

I expected him to give me the little box but he didn't. He probably didn't trust me as I lost it the first time.

        Everything happened as he said. We walked silently for hours to the park. I didn't start any conversation and neither did he.

Not long after, a taxi came like it was calculated. The suspicious guy just put my luggage in the boot without saying where he was going. I entered and the car began moving.

The stranger beside me was still holding the box, clutching it tight as if someone would snatch it away is he loosened his grip.

He constantly looked back to see if anyone was tailing us. I started feeling dizzy. I closed my eyes and slept through the rest of the trip, on his shoulder.

        He woke me up when we had arrived at said destination. I quickly got out of the car, trying to avoid hus piercing gaze, trying to act like I didn't enjoy my short nap. I had never been in a situation like this. I had so many questions but the one that plauged me most was his identity.

Who was he and why was he helping me?

We walked to the entrance of a large mansion.

It looked really old but the architecture was impressive. The house gave me this eerie first impression.

He pressed the bell, and the gate was opened by a middle aged woman, the housekeeper probably. She had a stiff face.

She welcomed him like a long departed brother, then her gaze fell on me.

Her eyes scanned, judging from head to toe. Like she was expecting someone else or something different.

She scanned my hair, my face, my clothes, could she at least not make it obvious?

She stared at me like that till we got to the front door. She hadn't said a word to me, but her eyes spoke enough for me to decide that I detested her.

It was as though she was saying one word over and over again, "disappointment"

***********

       She entered first, then the stranger, but I didn't follow, I refused to enter the house.

"Get in we don't have time" said the strange guy

I'm not going in there. I'm not getting in until I know who the hell you are and why you're helping me. And how the hell do you know my dad?

You expect me to just play along with a stranger?

"I expect you to be reasonable, if I was going to kill you I would've done it by now"

I sat down on the porch and began playing with my hair. I didn't know him, I wasn't going in.

The housekeeper looked at him and shook her head. Her eyes seemed to say " leave her, she can die and rot there"

He heaved a sigh

" My name is Dominic, I'm from Mexico and I worked with your father"

That lie pissed me off. I didn't believe him and he knew it. I sat unmoved and continued to twist and untwist my curly hair.

He didn't look Mexican, didn't sound like one either.

The housekeeper got tired of standing and went inside.

He crouched to my position on the porch

" Look, my job is classified and I can't give you details about myself. It's for your own safety. If they find you, they'll kill you and no one's going to do anything about it.

My name is Sylvester, I'm an agent and I worked with your father"

Whether I believed or not, my life was in danger. I went into the house pausing just for a fraction of a second to look at him.

The mansion was beautiful, with numerous paintings hung on the walls, and bookshelves containing countless books. There was a chair next to a bookshelf.

Therevwas a book on the chair and it caught my attention.

World war ii, woes of a young soldier

My curiosity made me pick it up. I sat on the chair and began flipping the pages. I came across a folded page, someone had been reading it before. A piece of paper fell from the book unto the nicely carpeted floor. I picked it up to see what it was.

In very good handwriting was the review of the book, detailed and accurately constructed, like it was written by the author himself. I turned the book to the spine to check the author

"Lois Cranewell"

That guy was dead. So it couldn't have been reviewed by him. Whoever was reading the book must've been very intellectual.

Suddenly, Sylvester cleared his throat and I looked up at him. His presence reminded me that my life was in danger dnd I had no time to read books. He had changed his outfit, I figured he just wanted to blend in initially.

He was now wearing a white long sleeved shirt and dark blue suit pants.

"Would you care for tea ?"

"No"

"Well then, explore the house if you wish, your room's upstairs"

He didn't even try to convince me to have the tea, he didn't ask if I wanted something else. The house keeper took the teatray back almost immediately.

He didn't give me details about which room was mine, just one word, " upstairs"

And that could have been any other room, the house was four storeys high.

I bent my head and fixed my eyes on the book, ignorant of what he had just said.

Maybe he sensed the coldness in the atmosphere. He began talking to me.

"That was your father's favourite book"

I looked up enthusiastically, I knew very little about my father and wanted to know more about him, even if it came from a cold stranger.

"Did he write this review?"

"Yes, but he never got to finish it"

"Why"

"He was killed"

"By who?"

" Ragghart Royle Rolshevik"

Charlotte closed her eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to let the information sink in.

Her father was killed, by this....

" What's his name again?"

" Ragghart Royle—

"That's a strange name, difficult to pronounce. Wouldn't like to bite my tongue in the process.

I'll call the bastrad Rolls Royce "

He laughed

"Why did he kill my father"

That last question changed his mood completely. He struggled to find the words, my father must've meant a lot to him too.

"That box, that red box you were holding contains highly confidential documents. Documents that could change the world as we know it. In the wrong hands, it could be a weapon of mass destruction. Your father died trying to protect whatever was inside."

"Do you know what's inside?"

"Only your late father and 'Rolls Royce' are aware of the contents of that box"

"I guess it's Pandora's box then"

"Miss Charlotte, I guess it is"