Mi Familia by KC Klein

Author:KC Klein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KC Klein

An hour later, the helicopter lands on a well-lit cleared area behind a huge mansion that seems to have been dropped in the middle of a thick, dark jungle.

The women, who I assume are this night’s entertainment, are escorted around the front of the house while I’m handed off to another man with an even bigger gun and even thicker goatee who leads me around toward the back.

Apparently, I’m all about back entrances tonight.

My mind races. I can’t help but think of all the possibilities. All the ways Emilio can hurt me. I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve worked on my faith long enough to have secured a good place in whatever comes next. It’s the torturing that makes me nervous.

I’m led through a set of doors, down a hallway, and then told to sit on a stool in the corner of a huge stainless-steel kitchen that one would find inside of a restaurant instead of a residential home. There are long prep tables, an industrial-size gas stove and two refrigerators that are easily double the one I have at home.

Men and women in white uniforms run in and out of multiple swinging doors, yelling out words in Spanish that make me regret again not taking a foreign language in high school, but even I can pick out a few words. I mentally translate in my head: “hurry,” “Boss Man,” and “guests.” Out of ingrained habit, I mark all the exits, even noticing a service elevator near the back.

I sit and wait, not sure what to expect. I feel a vibration in my pocket and reach for my phone. There’s a message from Savannah.

Stay strong, girl. Find me when you can.

I swallow. I must be worse off than I thought if this eighteen-year-old is worried about me. I send a smiley face, then check the battery life. I breathe a sigh of relief to see I still have half a charge and a very weak signal. I turn it off, not knowing when I might need it.

After about an hour with nothing to do, my stomach forgets its nervousness and takes notice of the smell of food being prepared a few feet away. There’s the tantalizing scent of sizzling steak with bell peppers and onions, baking bread, and roasted garlic and chili peppers. I realize the last thing I ate was bar food French fries dipped in watered-down ranch. I try to remember how to ask for a plate, figuring that dying on a full stomach has to be better than an empty one.

Under the shadow of my baseball cap, I watch one young servant girl in particular. She seems too young to be working here, but that seems to be the theme of this house…the younger and prettier the better. Her thick black hair is almost to her waist despite it being braided. Her uniform is different from the kitchen staff, all black, indicating she probably handles serving the food to the guests.

My suspicions are confirmed when she gets a tray and sets about putting together two dinner plates, silverware, and drinks.

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