I search our food supplies for something to eat. Though my nerves tend to suppress my hunger, I need to stay fed and hydrated to ensure I remain focused. I choose half a sandwich from the cooler and offer a few bites to the dog.
Eventually, Cobain addresses the elephant in the room. “Don’t read too much into my presence here.”
Finding his gaze, I calmly reply, “I’m not arrogant enough to believe my nutty twat rekindled your will to live.”
Cobain startles me by slamming his mouth against mine as if my words destroyed his self-control. I throw my arms around his neck and pull him closer.
When my fingers caress his jaw, he steps back and leaves me to lick my battered lips.
“Stay focused,” he growls and walks to the window.
Studying him, I think to mention how I worried about him, or I’m relieved he came along. Instead, I only admit, “I’m glad you saved Buttercup.”
He glances at me over his shoulder and says, “No.”
“He has no name.”
“Not Buttercup.”
“Then what?”
“His name is Robin.”
“No, no, no,” I say, shaking my head and kneeling down to pet the dog. “That’s a name for a girl or bird.”
“It was Nilsson’s ex-wife’s name.”
“Why would he name his male dog after his ex-wife?”
Cobain shrugs. “Nilsson was tortured before arriving at the safe house. I think his brain got scrambled, and he thought the dog was a girl.”
“Buttercup is better than Robin.”
Cobain closes the curtains and stands away from the window as if worried someone might take a shot. He watches me for a full minute before asking, “What are you?”
“A human woman. If that weren’t obvious before we slept together, I would think you’d know the answer afterward.”
Cobain refuses to smile, but the corners of his mouth struggle to behave. “I mean, what are your parents’ races? I never saw Gator, and I assumed you were Peruvian or whatever,” he says, purposely getting my country wrong. “I don’t think you’re Hispanic, though.”
“Papa is Hawaiian, Mexican, and Irish. Mama is, well, white. I don’t know where her people originated generations ago. So, I’m mixed just like you.”
“And you want to keep living in Chile?”
“Why do you insist on doing that?” I mutter, glaring at him.
“You’re more attractive when pissed. If you agreed to walk around looking like a cranky bitch, I wouldn’t have to work you into an angry lather.”
His words put dirty thoughts in my head. “You’re a greedy lover, but I’m glad you were my first.”
“Greedy,” he snorts. “I gave you plenty.”
“Why can’t you hear criticism? Are you emotionally fragile?”
“I’ve never been weak in my entire life.”
“Not even when my knee made your testicles hum?”
Cobain takes a step closer, testing my resolve. “Not weak, but I did enjoy how red your cheeks became when you got angry. It was the first time I wanted you on all fours.”
“We’d known each other for a few minutes, so that seems about right,” I say and stroke his jaw before my fingers slide down his throat and rest on his chest. “Do you want to know when I first wanted you on all fours?”
“No.”
Laughing at his irritable response, I walk to the window. “I wish I could spar with you all night, but I don’t feel safe here.”
“Why did you even come to this country?” he asks while sliding his finger through the loop of my black jeans and tugging me away from the window.
“We hoped to understand what our parents left behind. It’s silly, no doubt. We were visiting tourist traps and back roads rather than lingering in the dirty underbelly that our parents knew. Mostly, Kai felt restless at home. Finding Sunny and Anika seems to have satisfied his longing.”
“He’s a fool, and you’re an idiot for not telling him so.”
“You worry about me,” I say, stroking his beard. “Your concerns are charming.”
Cobain rolls his eyes, but I ignore his attempts to get me agitated. I understand how he doesn’t want to feel responsible for my safety. The man couldn’t admit to caring for a dog he’d been alone with for a year. But Cobain values me, and I need to remain safe for him to be happy. That’s a lot of pressure for someone accustomed to feeling nearly nothing.
“I want to go home,” I say, and my voice betrays my fear. “I hate this country, and I want to see my parents. I miss the ocean.”
“We’ll leave tomorrow and keep driving to the next safe house and then the next,” he says, comforting me with his plan. “We’ll keep moving south until we’re near a major airport. Then we’ll leave this country.”
Though noticing how he includes himself in the equation, I don’t react. He waits for me to poke him. Our teasing is fun, but I want nothing more than the six of us to arrive in Nicaragua. Games might distract from that goal.
“How will we take Robin out of the country?”
“He has papers.”
Smiling, I poke his chest. “Are they old papers, or did you make them recently?”
“Yes, yes, fucking you made me more curious about survival,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “Don’t take it personally. My cock running the show isn’t romantic. It used to call the shot all the time before I left Los Angeles.”
I study him for probably too long. His words usually hold meaning. He wants me to believe I’m merely his latest conquest. I think he hopes to hurt my feelings and prevent me from expecting too much. I understand his fears. He’s a man ill-equipped for a woman, and I’m a woman ill-equipped for his drama.
I can’t expect him to protect me. There’s nothing about Cobain to indicate he will sacrifice himself to protect anyone. He took on the cult at the safe house to feed his self-destructive nature. I can’t divine more meaning into his behavior. My survival and that of my brother, Sunny, and Anika depend on me remaining sharp. Dreaming big for a man like Cobain is silly.
And silly will get us all killed.
SUNNY
This morning, I woke up hopeful. Kai slept in the bed pushed up next to the one Anika and I used. Waking with him close by and my daughter safe between us, I believed I would see his home in paradise soon. I no longer have that hope.
Kai, Neri, Cobain, and Anika will all be dead soon. Or worse, Neri and Anika will be sold off to bad people. I will be too, but I feel only numb when I imagine my death or suffering. My real fear comes from imagining them in pain. My baby girl’s known suffering, but there were rules at the homestead. They could hit and starve her, but she wasn’t old enough to be used sexually.
Our leader, Jedediah, warned us that the outside world embraced evil and hurt children like Anika. I hadn’t been sure if any of that was true. I hadn’t been hurt as a little girl. Not until my father brought me to the Children of the Black Sun’s homestead. Now he might be dead along with all those other men who attacked Cobain’s safe house. Or maybe he’s back at the homestead, enjoying life.