The fact that the Americans keep their borders closed is worrisome enough. They are hiding dangerous weapons. If they aren’t stopped the whole world is at risk of another war.
—Comment from the Global Reporter message board
A bead of sweat rolled down Mia’s cheek. Not a soul was on the street. It wasn’t much of a street either. Only two blocks long. Mia followed the plan and turned into the first building on the left. The wooden doors swung open. It was a large room with a bar spanning its entire length. Unoccupied tables took up the center space and a balcony lined the upstairs.
“Hello?”
Mia’s voice didn’t echo against the wooden building.
“I’m lost,” Mia said. “Can anyone help me?”
No response came. It was time to try the next building. Mia had just turned to walk out when a door behind the bar swung open. A man came out. His eyes widened when he saw her.
“¿Qué es esto?”
“No hablas español.”
Mia said the words Riley taught her. The man continued to speak in the foreign tongue. Mia repeated the phrase. He repeated himself; she couldn’t begin to comprehend what he was saying. She tried to speak again but he broke into English.
“ ‘You don’t speak Spanish, you don’t speak Spanish,’ ” he said. “No, I speak Spanish; it is you who cannot.”
“I’m lost,” Mia said. “Can you help me?”
“Pretty little American girls don’t get lost,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m lost,” she said.
He reached behind the bar and pulled out a knife. The air rushed out of Mia’s lungs. His hands went back down and he pulled out an apple, slamming it against the bar. He brought the knife down and sliced off a piece, handing it to Mia. She reached forward and took it from his hand, devouring the fruit.
“I’m so hungry,” Mia said. “I’ve been walking for hours.”
“From where?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Mia said.
He gave her another piece.
“Where’s your husband?” he asked.
“I’m not married,” Mia said.
“Well, in that case I’ll get ahold of deportation,” he said. “Confirm your single status.”
He started walking toward the back again.
“Wait,” Mia said. “Your country doesn’t deport unwed females. I know that.”
“I bet you’re married and dying to reunite with your husband,” he said.
“No, please, not that,” Mia said. “I’ll kill myself first.”
This raised an eyebrow. Mia relaxed; the plan was working.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“Are you going to turn me in?” Mia asked.
“Not my call,” he said. “I’m going to get someone who can help you. Eat the rest of the apple.”
It was working. Mia was doing it. He kept his eyes on her as he walked into the back room. Mia left the apple untouched. It didn’t take long for him to come back into the room.
“Someone is on their way to get you some help,” he said.
“Thank you,” Mia said.
The two sat in silence. He looked annoyed while she ate her apple. Once enough time passed it was time for phase two of the plan.
Mia thought back to the train station in Saint Louis. Grant was there with his thugs. Mia and Andrew almost outsmarted them, but Grant won. He held a gun to Mia’s head. She was about to admit defeat when a force knocked her onto the tracks. Andrew pulled her to safety just in time for her to see a train wipe Whitney from sight. Mia’s best friend died that day. She focused on that image until the tears started flowing.
“Hey now,” the man said. “No tears here. I said we were going to try to help.”
He set a box of tissues down.
“It’s awful,” Mia said. “I’m so tired and hungry and lost.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “We don’t get many strangers down here.”
“But you pulled out that knife and you threatened to deport me,” Mia said. “I can’t go back there.”
“Don’t mind Henry.”
The words were purred from the doorway. Mia turned to look as Dalmy Ruiz strolled into the bar. She was more stunning in person. Her thick black hair was shiny and it flowed down her back. Her white pants swayed at the bottom, making it look like she was floating, and her red tube top brought out the perfect tan in her skin. Mia looked like trash next to this woman.
“I heard you were in trouble,” she said. “Maybe I can help you. Henry, get us some water and leave.”
While Henry poured the glasses Dalmy shouted something in Spanish. Two men walked inside dressed in military uniforms. They carried rifles and one walked straight toward Mia. She stood up and he started patting her dress.
“What . . . ,” she said.
“A formality,” Dalmy said. “Thank you, Ricky.”
He walked back and guarded the door. Mia tried her best to look shocked by the frisking Riley had warned her about. She knew its purpose was to protect Dalmy. Mia glanced at the counter; Henry had taken the knife with him. The opportunity to grab a weapon was gone.
“I’m sorry about that,” Dalmy said.
“Why did he touch me like that?” Mia asked, trying not to overdo the fear in her voice.
“A traditional greeting in this town,” Dalmy said. “Now, tell me what happened to you and maybe I can help.”
“Will you deport me?” Mia asked.
“No,” Dalmy said. “I promise, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
The way she rolled her r’s was beautiful. Mia tried not to get distracted. She used her shaky hands to take a sip of the water.
“Are you here with your husband?” Dalmy asked.
Mia nodded her head.
“On a honeymoon? Didn’t go so well?”
Mia gulped and nodded some more. This was unexpected; Dalmy was telling the story for her. “How did you know?”
Dalmy let out a light laugh.
“Pretty young American girl in an exotic land,” Dalmy said. “If you ran away you wouldn’t be so far south.”
“I don’t have a clue where I am,” Mia said.
“It’s not important,” Dalmy said. “What happened?”
“We got down here and he made me chop off my hair,” Mia said. “I was so happy to get married, but after the ceremony he changed. He locked me in the bathroom of our hotel and I climbed out the window.”
Mia started getting louder.
“I ran; I kept on running,” Mia said. “Then I jumped in the back of a truck and lay down. I knew he was right behind me. But then the truck started moving. A few hours ago the truck parked and I got out and ran some more.”
“It’s okay,” Dalmy said. “You’re safe; he can’t get you here.”
“I saw another car,” Mia said. “I dove inside and started pushing everything; it came to life and I drove off.”
Mia paused and took a breath.
“I kept going straight,” Mia said. “Then the road ended and it was desert. I didn’t see the cliff until right when I was heading over. I opened the door and dove out. The car went right over. I almost died.
“I kept on walking. It was hours; the sun came up and I made it here. Am I still alive?”
“Yes,” Dalmy said. “You poor thing. You’re alive. That’s quite an ordeal. What direction was the sun when you started walking, behind you or in front?”
“Behind,” Mia said.
Dalmy turned around and nodded to the guards. One ducked out of the building. They were going to try to verify Mia’s story. There would be no car, but at least they’d check in the opposite direction of Riley.
“I’m Dalmy,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Jeanette,” Mia said. “You have a beautiful name. In fact, you’re beautiful.”
“Not as pretty as you,” Dalmy said. “Even with that awful haircut. Do you want a place to lie down? Maybe take a bath?”
“Please,” Mia said. “I feel so dirty.”
“Don’t worry,” Dalmy said. “I’ll help you.”
She wrapped her arms around Mia’s shoulders and led her out of the building. The armed guard followed behind them.