From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set by Christopher Smith

wasn’t.   Immediately, she
wrapped her arm around his back for support and slammed her fist against his
chest in an effort to get his heart beating again.   She pressed her mouth against his cool
lips and forced air into his lungs, but there was no response.   Again, she slammed her fist against his
chest and gave him more air.   She
repeated the procedure four times before she felt for a pulse.   But there wasn’t one.
    He was
dead.
    She
looked up at the distant shoreline and could see nothing but smoke rising into
the air above a hood of trees.   She
looked down at Alex and everything within her rejected what she saw.   She found a towel at the rear of the
boat and placed it behind his head to make him comfortable.   When she touched his cheek with the back
of her hand and bent down to kiss him a final time on the lips, she noticed
that her whole body was trembling with grief and rage.   She wanted to go back and kill them all
for what they’d done to him, but it would be suicide if she did so.
    She
stepped back into the driver’s seat and sat there.   She felt weightless, hopeless,
useless.   She looked out at the
ocean as the boat rocked and swayed.   Water lapped against the side of it.   It was soothing, almost hypnotic.   She gave into it.   Time passed.   The sun moved across the sky.   She only came around when something
nudged against the boat.   Pushed
it.   She looked around her as
something whipped about in the water, startling her into focus.   She looked down at the water and saw
that it was boiling.   Dozens of
sharks were teeming around the boat, probably drawn by Alex’s blood, which
likely was leaking into the water.
    She had
to collect herself.   She needed to
save herself.   He’d be furious with
her if she didn’t do so.
    Think.
    The
family she knew within the inlet could help her.   Contacts in the States could send her a
new passport.   To leave here, she’d
need to change her identity, but those matters could be worked out abroad.  
    When her
passport came, so would supplies to make her look like her new photo.   She’d been in this situation before, but
never quite like this.   Never in
love.   She wanted to scream into the
sun, but instinct kept her silent.   She couldn’t give away her location.   She’d be damned if they killed each of
them.
    She
started the boat again and, with Alex at her back, she crept around the inlet,
her heart turning to ice as she moved forward through the deep.   A feast of sharks slapped their tails
against the boat, but she ignored them and kept her eyes on the horizon.   Help was ahead.   Small huts were behind the swaying
palms.   She’d seek out her friends
and then she’d seek out her enemies.
    She’d
have her revenge.
    They’d
pay for what they did.

 
 
 
    #   #   #

 
 



 
 
 
    FROM MANHATTAN WITH REVENGE

 
 
 
 

CARMEN’S
REVENGE

 
    CHAPTER
ONE

 
    She was being followed.   She was aware of it.   And she
was prepared to act when they acted.
    If they have a chance.
    It was nighttime in Manhattan.   Past eleven.   Earlier, she tried to sleep, but since
sleep no longer came as easily as it used to, she was walking down Fifth
because outside, the city offered distractions she needed to lean on right now.
    The Park was next to her.   The cool fall breeze carried with it the smells of the
city—exhaust from the cabs darting past her to her left, the rot of damp
foliage off to her right, but also a crispness that hadn’t been in the mix when
she was here three weeks ago.  
    Winter was coming.   It was right at her back, not unlike the sound of those shoes keeping
time with her as she strolled down the sidewalk.  
    Carmen Gragera listened to those shoes.   She first became aware of them when she
turned onto Fifth from Eighty-First Street, where she kept an apartment.   At some point, she knew they’d find her,
especially since she was back in the city.  
    What they didn’t