my hand over her mouth and remind her where we were. Ball. Bomb. Bounty. Shed. Shh.
We squeezed each other’s fingers blue as the truck door creaked open and slammed shut and a man got out, cursing in Spanish. I watched his shadowy figure stumble toward the trailer. Was this the “him” Javier warned us about? The owner of the black dog? I mean, you don’t own a dog like that unless you’re a scary fuck yourself. The guy ripped at the blue tarp strung up over the porch and the whole thing came loose, blew away and got snagged on a dry bush near his truck.
The guy cursed some more, and fell up the stairs, and turned the knob on the door a bunch of times before finally pushing his way inside. He started calling into the trailer, mad as fuck, going—“Perro! PERRO!” Fee tried to stand up so she could look out the window too, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. I told her it was just the drunk neighbor calling for his dog, who was apparently named Perro, which actually means “dog.” Original.
“Perro! Perro! Te mataré! I’ll kill you,” the guy yelled, and I’m seriously afraid he’s gonna kill that poor dog. Then the trailer door opened and he was back outside, calling, “Perro. Perro! Cabrón! Ven acá. Come here, you shit fucker!” In the moonlight, I could see his bluish form lurching toward the shed. I ducked, and Fee and I listened to the sound of his boots on the gravel, then sloshing through the tall needle grass. Fee clapped the laptop shut so he wouldn’t see the light through the window. I lunged to brace the door.
The drunk guy was still shouting for Perro, and was so near I could hear the spit flying from the corners of his mouth, but before he could reach the shed, a distant crash came from inside the Airstream. Perro? The wind? The man stopped and cursed some more, then wheeled and wove his way back through the weeds.
I peeked out the window just in time to see him go inside the Airstream and slam the door behind him. Fee whispered thanks to God and meant it. I’m glad she has God. I totally support her delusion.
Our relief didn’t last long, though. The man started cursing again, and there was a thumping sound and then some banging, and I could see the whole Airstream rocking. We heard more thudding, and shouting, and then this awful whimpering that stopped suddenly. This time the quiet didn’t feel like a relief. Did he kill that dog? Like, kick him to death?
Fee grabbed my leg and said, “When we go, we’re taking Perro with us.”
* * *
—
The TV is still on in the Airstream, but otherwise it’s been quiet over there for a while. No movement. The lights in Javier’s cabin didn’t come on with all the drunk guy’s drama. Javier must be a deep sleeper.
Fee’s passed out again. Ragged breathing. Fuck. I’m still scared, but I’m gonna go out there. I have to get her some water. Soon. I just wanna give the drunk guy time to pass out too. Guess I don’t have to worry about Perro attacking me now.
Each time I go back online, which I just did, I wanna freaking scream. How can we defend ourselves against God? Apparently groups of Christian Crusaders are now mobilizing from coast to coast declining the bounty. They wanna capture us for the sole purpose of bringing light to the Cause, by which they mean Anti-Abortion—they actually believe two teenaged girls from a Calabasas Christian school are involved in the Red Market. The hard-core faction of the hard-core faction say God has spoken, and that we must die. So we’re being hunted by people who hear God’s voice telling them to kill us. Fucking terrifying. Same fuckers who mock the Muslim suicide bombers, who kill for their cause and the reward of seventy-two virgin angels in the sweet hereafter. Crusaders. Fuck. They gave themselves that name even though they must know history. The Crusades were all about violence and hate.
The pendulum people always talk about started swinging hard and high around the time I was in sixth grade. I’d listen to my parents’ conversations at the dinner table, and the news they had on 24/7, and we girls hung on all the celebrity accusations and #MeToo confessions just like everyone else. Then came all the abortion stuff. Fetal heartbeat restrictions. Counseling restrictions. Ultrasound requirements.