Sunny, Anika, and Neri return to the SUV quickly. I expect more complaining, especially from the child, but Anika seems afraid of several large dogs in the back of a nearby truck. She settles into the back seat and eats a sandwich we brought from the safe house. Soon, she’ll nap much of the afternoon drive.
Returning to the road, I share with Neri the information Cobain offered. She messages Papa. An hour later, he replies to say we should kill the people there on sight.
Neri doesn’t waste time asking why. If Papa knew specifics, he’d share them. He’s far less secretive than Cobain.
Papa’s meaning is clear, though. The people at the safe house are no safer than the ones hunting us.
NERI
This morning began with the feel of Cobain still on my flesh. He left me forever altered, but I thought I could never change him. The man wanted to die long before I arrived. Yet he chose to escape the safe house and join us on our mission. Despite the danger still hunting us, I often find a smile on my face during today’s long drive.
My brother catches sight of my expression and frowns disapprovingly. I know he worries over our next step. This morning’s attack surprised us. We assumed the cult might give up searching. Now Cobain’s killed dozens of their men. I can’t imagine they’ll take that loss any better than they did the four we murdered days ago or the handful at the roadside stand where we found Sunny and Anika.
My brother came to the United States to experience the country our parents left behind decades ago. I tagged along for the same reason that I do many things—to imitate my role model.
I mimic him now as our SUV follows Cobain’s down a long driveway toward a large brick home. There’s nothing inviting about this remote location. Surrounded by lush trees, the safe house is the opposite of Cobain’s. There, we had clear views in many directions, making it easy for the enemy to see us but also for us to spot them. Here, the dense woods both hide us and allow for an enemy’s stealthy arrival.
“If you feel at all threatened, talk of surfing, and we’ll kill them,” Kai tells me as he parks the Suburban next to Cobain’s Yukon. “These people are killers, but they won’t know we are.”
“They’ll figure out that he is,” I say as Cobain taps on our hood.
“Then let them focus their attention on him rather than us.”
Kai leaves the SUV and opens the back door for Sunny and Anika. The child dozed during the last few hours, but she’s aching for a real nap. Sunny looks mostly relieved to be out of the car.
“Don’t leave my side,” Kai tells her. “These are not our friends. We will leave at dawn.”
Cobain straps a rifle to his back and stomps over to us with the old dog following close behind. “Here’s the bullshit,” he says, flashing a dark frown. “I’m the mercenary, and you’re the weak, pathetic fuckers I’m saving. Get it?”
“Kai had the same plan,” I tell him.
Shooting me a dirty look, Cobain checks his pistol. “Stand around and looks clueless like you did when I saved you days ago.”
“Be sure to look big and scary like when you saved us rather than sweet and cuddly like when you cook,” I instruct while hiding my weapons under a sweater. “Of course, if they’re untrustworthy and plan to sell us females into sex slavery, they’ll kill you first. Godspeed, Cobain.”
His expression is hilarious enough for me to forget that we’re walking toward our possible doom. Kai reveals nothing. He’s wearing his dumb surfer face that the tourists love back home. Standing next to him, Sunny paints the picture of a perfect victim. I don’t know how to ugly her up, but it probably won’t matter. Anika rests in her mother’s arms. With her dark blond hair cut short and blue clothes, she could pass for a boy as long as no one looks close enough.
“We move as a group,” Cobain says in English, clearly wanting Sunny to follow along at this point.
Her dull gaze is perfect. They won’t be able to read her at all. Anika isn’t quite as vacant-looking. She forgets to be scared every time she checks her little backpack and finds her toys still inside.
We walk together toward the door. I drag a suitcase with us since we’ll look dumber that way, and it’s full of weapons just in case we get into a firefight.
A woman steps out of the front door. She’s tall, lean, and dressed in all denim except for her cowboy books. She looks like a rancher, but her weapon is a high-grade military-style rifle. Her blue-eyed gaze washes over us before focusing on Cobain.
“Who are you?” she asks him.
“I called.”
“Your name.”
“Dan Smith.” When she scowls at him, his glare doesn’t change. “We have money. Do you have beds?”
“We said we did.”
“Yet you’re blocking our entry. You can see my fucking confusion.”
“We don’t know you.”
“What kind of safe house needs to be friendly with its visitors? We’re not here for Thanksgiving dinner.”
The woman glances back inside the house, and a man appears. He’s wide-shouldered and fair-skinned. His height is closer to Kai’s than Cobain’s, but his chest is huge and likely steroid-induced. I notice how his gaze lingers on Sunny and then me. He barely acknowledges Kai.
“Let me see the cash,” he mutters, and Cobain immediately hands it over as if waiting for the request.
“We’ll be here for three days,” Cobain lies. “If we need to remain longer, we’ll pay more.”
“If you leave sooner, there are no refunds.”
“Well, no shit, asshole,” Cobain growls, seeming bigger now that he’s genuinely pissed. “Either let us inside or hand back my money.”
The man steps aside, and I follow Cobain inside the two-story home. We’re directed up a flight of stairs to a row of bedrooms.
“There’s food in the kitchen freezer,” the woman says, and I spot another man peering from a room downstairs.
Cobain asks, “How many people are in this house?”
“Eight, including your group.”
“Is that enough to protect us if we’re attacked by her ex-boyfriend?” he asks and gestures toward me.
“Depends on if he brings friends.”
“He might.”
Cobain doesn’t elaborate. He keeps them focused on an impending threat outside the house rather than what we’re doing. Once inside a bedroom, he uses a device to search for surveillance equipment. When he notices something near a light, he moves the lamp to the closet and shuts the door.
“Kai and I will bring food in from the SUVs and trigger the vehicles’ inner surveillance systems,” Cobain explains. “We will not eat with those people or drink what they offer. If you have to piss, use the buddy system. No one is ever alone. The kid plays only in the bedroom. We take turns sleeping. At dawn, we get the fuck out of here.”
Kai nods and whispers, “If there are issues, we deal with them without delay.”
Cobain and I understand his meaning. If these people so much as sneeze wrong, we’ll put them down before they can do the same to us.
After Kai and Cobain return from the SUV with a few bags of supplies, my brother guides his woman and child to the next room. I wish we could remain together. Unfortunately, Cobain scares Anika, and the dog won’t stop growling when the child is around. Now I’m alone with him in a room. Sharing a bed isn’t an option despite my fond memories from last night.