It took less than ten minutes for us to arrive at a hostel, which Mateo had chosen for its close proximity to the sea. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one with my mind on possible escape routes.
The balding owner greeted us with a broad grin, revealing several missing teeth. Adrián slid a stack of U.S. dollars across the counter, requesting two private rooms.
The man eyed the cash, licking his thin lips. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes remaining fixed on the money. “We’re fully booked except for the shared dormitory.”
Adrián tapped his fingers on the bills. “I’m sure your other guests could make different arrangements. We need two private rooms.”
The man swallowed, but he shook his head again. “They’ve already paid. And they’re travel bloggers from the U.K. I can’t get a bad review. I’m sorry. There’s another hostel with rooms available two and a half kilometers that way.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the jungle.
Adrián scowled and removed the stack of cash, replacing it with a more reasonable amount in pesos. “Fine. We’ll take three beds in the dormitory.”
The man ducked his head. “Of course. So sorry about that. Let me show you to the dorm.”
The dorm turned out to be enclosed only on three sides. Where the forth wall should be, the building simply opened up to a stunning view of the pristine beach just across the narrow street. The architecture was rustic and the amenities beyond basic, but the scene was breathtaking. We were too far back from the sea to hear the soft sighs of the gentle waves, but the sounds of the people chatting and laughing in the village drifted into the dorm.
The bathroom was shared as well, with two shower stalls and one toilet. Adrián glowered down at me, as though I’d made some sort of protest to our accommodations.
“She’s not staying here,” he told the hostel owner. “Make the other rooms available.”
The man paled and took a step back, clearly affected by the full force of Adrián’s menace. “I’m sorry. I can’t. You can have your money back. There are other places to stay in Capurganá.”
“This will be fine,” Mateo said firmly, shooting Adrián a significant glare. “We’ll be able to get to harbor faster in the morning. It’ll give us a few more minutes to sleep in, and I know Valentina is tired.”
I could have growled at him for talking about me like I wasn’t even there, like I wasn’t capable of speaking for myself.
But it wasn’t hard to swallow my anger. I scented freedom on the salty air. This open dormitory presented my best hope for escape. There would be other travelers around us, so Adrián wouldn’t be able to pin me in bed with him or tie me down.
I would continue to appear meek and docile, but once the men were asleep, I’d steal my passport and some cash and head for the harbor by myself.
“Are you guys our bunk mates?” a new, masculine voice asked. I turned to find a young man entering the dormitory. He set his heavy backpack down on one of the beds. A machete gleamed in its sheath at his belt, and a sheen of sweat covered his pink skin. “We’re exploring the Darién,” he continued addressing us, gesturing at two men behind him. They were all in their early twenties, and all very obviously not from around here, if the red-headed boy’s American accent was any indication. “Are you here to cross the jungle, too?”
“No,” Adrián snapped, angling his body in front of mine. “We’re here to sleep. We’re leaving for San Blas in the morning.”
The redhead grinned, as though Adrián’s blazing eyes weren’t burning into him. “San Blas is awesome. We’ve been backpacking for weeks, and we actually checked out the islands before coming to Capurganá. We have a guide taking us into the jungle tomorrow. We’re going to hike to the end of the Pan-American Highway in Panama.”
“Get yourself killed if you want,” Adrián said coldly. “Just stay out of our way, and don’t look at Valentina.”
The boy’s eyes skipped past Adrián’s hulking form to find me. “You’re Valentina?”
He really must have a death wish. Or he was simply very stupid.
Adrián stepped directly in front of me, somehow growing even taller. “What the fuck did I just say? Don’t fucking look at her.”
“Are you sure you can’t make those private rooms happen?” Mateo asked the hostel owner. “It might save you from having to clean blood off your floors.”
The balding man forced a shrill laugh. “No need to scare los gringos,” he attempted to pass everything off as a joke. “I’m sure everyone will get along just fine.”
“Hey, man. I’m sorry,” the boy apologized. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Adrián,” I said softly. I tentatively brushed my fingers against his back. A shudder ran down his spine. “It’s fine,” I cajoled. “We can stay here.” I tried not to sound too eager, but I needed to soothe him before he changed his mind and took me to a different hostel.