A saintly woman in robes looks down at me from above, a golden light shining from around her head. She reaches out, beckoning to me.
Come home.
I blink hard and realize I’m awake and looking at a religious painting on the wall.
Where am I?
There’s a soft bedroll on the floor beneath me. I feel music vibrating from somewhere nearby, the electronic beats of Korean pop music. I hear a mix of accents as people talk and laugh. The delicious smell of cinnamon and roasted tomatoes fills my nose.
I sit up on my haunches and feel pain everywhere. That’s when I remember the police car crashing, and the screams of the children. My body stiffens in fear.
Where are the children?
There’s a gauze curtain hanging from the ceiling across the room. The sound of gentle snoring emanates from behind it.
I stand on unsteady legs and pull the curtain aside. Chance and Junebug are sleeping under the covers of a large bed. There’s a bandage on Chance’s head, expertly wrapped. Junebug’s face has some scratches, but otherwise she looks unharmed. The reinforced cage of the police car must have kept us safe in the crash. But how did we get here, and who helped us?
I listen at the door and hear the music change to Spanish rap. I glance back at the kids, trusting they’ll be okay for a few minutes while I figure out what’s going on.
I take the doorknob in my mouth, concerned that it will be locked, but I turn it and it opens.
We’re not prisoners here. So what are we?
I step into the hall, ready for anything.