Page 112 of Stains of Desire
"I'm sorry. I'm trying to stay positive."
"Shh. Don't apologize."
I sob in his arms. He only holds me tighter.
When my crying fit calms, he murmurs, "Let me put the seat down in the back, and we can lie down. You can hum Millie her song."
I sniffle. "Okay."
For the next few weeks, we live out of the SUV, trying to get to Nicaragua. But we keep going in circles on dirt roads because of the fallen trees and the split in the earth. We are delayed by several days when we have to wait in a town until gasoline arrives to fill the SUV.
Every night, I break down. Each time, Axel holds me and tells me to hum to Millie. One night, he hums along with me. And he does it every night going forward.
When we get to the border, Tinker's contact isn't there. Axel calls Tinker on the burner phone he gave him, but Tinker can't seem to get ahold of his friend. Axel thinks it's too dangerous to risk the border anywhere else, so we wait a few more weeks.
My anxiety grows. The dreams I have of Millie only feel more real. And I hear her crying for me during the day, not just at night.
We finally get Tinker's call that his friend is back, and we can cross the border. It's been a month since we left Omoa. My anxiety is at an all-time high.
We cross effortlessly and get to Managua, where Tinker's passport buddy lives.
The capital city is bustling, but its lack of wealth is apparent. Buildings are rundown. There are no street names or numbers, and Axel quickly pulls over.
"Tinker said to call Jimbo when we got in the city. I see why."
"How does anyone get around this place?"
"Not sure." He pulls out the phone and calls Jimbo, who instructs him the rest of the way.
Jimbo waits for us outside of the apartment building and shows us where to park. He's wearing a Semper-Fi baseball cap, has a potbelly, and a gray beard down to his pecs. His kind blue eyes remind me of my grandfather's, and he has red rosy cheeks. In some ways, he reminds me of Santa. I assume he's in his late sixties or early seventies. We introduce ourselves, and he leads us to his unit. The walls are beige and need a paint job. Orange and green furniture resembling 1970s decor fills the living room. A small kitchenette and four-person table complete the space.
As soon as we get inside, he locks the door. "This isn't a safe place. Make sure you don't go anywhere on your own, Penelope."
Axel puts his arm around my shoulder. "She doesn't go anywhere without me. And no offense, but we aren't looking to stay here for long."
"No offense taken. However, I think you'll want to wait for another week or so."
"Why?" Axel asks.
"Tinker said you've got cartel problems?"
The hairs on my arms stand up.
Axel's body stiffens, and his eyes turn to slits. "Why would Tinker tell you that?"
Jimbo points to the table. "Let's sit down."
We follow him to the kitchen area.
He runs his hand through his white hair. It flops in his face. He pushes it back. "Tinker's father and I served together. I never had children, and he's like my own boy. Anything he told me, I take to my grave."
Axel releases a breath, but it's subtle. I put my hand on his thigh, and he tugs me closer to his chest. "Good to know. Why did you mention the drug cartels?"
Jimbo leans closer and taps the table. "They've taken over the airports. It's not safe to fly out, unless you're one hundred percent clear who your pilot and crew are."
"How do you know this?"
"I can't disclose that information. But if you want to get out of Nicaragua safely, you can't fly out of the airport."
