“There’s a barn a few hills over,” Albert told Linda. “That where we’re going. So, I need you to stand up and walk. Understood?”
Linda focused, nodded, and stumbled to her feet. She leaned on her helpful daughter to steady her steps. Albert leading the way, they stayed low, skirted small valleys, and used tall grass and large rocks to cover their movement. The rain began to let up. Sunshine broke through and burned away the mist. The grey that had covered the landscape yielded, and a rainbow burst forth, shooting from the ground and into the sky. Flowers that had been muted in the deluge seemed to light up as though suddenly plugged in. Their colors sang again, and they swayed in the breeze. Albert took a deep breath, and, for the first time, realized the truth of beauty of the land he was traversing. He looked back on the last few days, and realized that, as terrifying as they were, they also satisfied.
He could feel the buzz; probably more lack of sleep than pride at having stayed alive for this long. Albert suddenly understood the high of the infantryman. Although he had felt the wonder of the fight from the sky, he could now relate with the man that fought in the dirt, and looked another man in the eyes before plunging a bayonet between his ribs. Albert wondered that if man felt joy from such a dark experience, perhaps his nature truly was evil. Then he realized that, by weaving moments of good among those that were evil, man could tip his nature to goodness, could rise above, could shun the Devil and let God in. It’s about choice, he thought. We are plunged into situations that reveal our true selves. We are living a test, and there will be a reckoning when it is all over; a counting of the coin, pluses and minuses, a spreadsheet of life
Albert suddenly knew that all were being judged, that there was a panel taking score, whether the Pagan plethora of observers, or the one true reckoner, our chits were being counted. Although he knew he had killed — snuffed the innocent — it would be understood, he believed, that it had been a dreadful mistake. He had mourned even before the missile’s impact. Also, he had, after all, tried to stop it. Albert looked to Annie who stuck out her finger so that a butterfly fluttering about might land there. With the warming sun on his face, Albert watched the delicate insect alight on Annie, concluded that the human spirit was beautiful and it survived by nurturing itself on simple things. Albert pulled Linda in close and walked for a moment with his arm about her. Annie snuggled up too, and the three of them walked together among the wild flowers and tall grass. The little barn was their immediate goal, and Albert thought it best not to look too far ahead, to think too much. It was far better to feel what was immediate, to live the moment, and thank the universe for giving you breath enough to say: “I love you both.” Linda looked deep into Albert, saw his pain and feelings, and smiled. She felt at home in the deep brown pools of his sad eyes.
Trying to make the best of the lack of cover, Albert, Annie, and Linda moved toward the barn. When they reached it without being seen, they crouched at one of its walls. Albert slid the door open and checked inside.
“It’s a hay loft. We should be able to get some rest.” He spotted a bin full of potatoes and a small, dripping spigot. “And perhaps something to eat and drink.”
As soon as they entered, Annie collapsed onto a bed of straw and fell asleep. Albert started to check the potatoes. While a few felt too mushy, several others were edible. He handed one to Linda and took a drink from the tap. Gulping mouthfuls, Albert realized how dehydrated he was. Linda took her turn after chewing some raw spud. She, too, drank deep. With her belly full, Linda lay down beside Annie. Exhausted, Albert collapsed his weight to the floor like an imploded building.
“I’ll keep first watch,” he mumbled.
“Want this?” Linda offered the pistol. He waved it away. Linda took a deep breath, maybe two, and fell fast asleep.
Even though he tried his best to stay awake, Albert also succumbed to exhaustion, and, with head rested on bent knees, was soon snoring.
Vargas put his hand to Annie’s mouth. She awakened and tried to scream. Vargas collected her in his arms. Linda felt the disturbance beside her. She opened an eye. About to scream, too, she decided against it when she saw the Argentinian. He had a gold-sparkled grin, and he had Annie, a big knife to her soft, pink neck.
“Eduardo Talbot,” Vargas said loudly, the disdain he had for the name was evident. Albert snapped awake and sprang to his feet. About to lunge at Vargas, he stopped himself. His body twitched as his brain countermanded the command sent to his muscles. His tired mind was unable to conjure anything creative. It was time to surrender. Albert looked to Linda. Her worried eyes bulged, and her teeth ground with hatred and with helplessness.
“Annie will be fine, Linda,” Albert consoled. “I promise.” Albert turned to Annie, and said: “Annie, baby, you will be fine. Okay?” Annie whimpered and clenched her eyes shut. This squeezed out a tear that rolled slowly down her blushed cheek. Albert turned his attention to Vargas.
Flames replaced sadness in Albert’s eyes. They flickered and licked at the squinted lids. He just wanted to kill. He would take true satisfaction in twisting Vargas’s neck until it snapped.
“How’s the hand, caballero?” Vargas taunted.
Albert lifted his wrapped hand to show him, painfully extending the middle finger, and smiled wide.
“Still works,” Albert snickered. “Let her go. Now.”
Vargas fumed and pressed the cold blade to Annie’s throat. Annie went wooden.
“If you harm her-” Albert warned.
“What? What will you do?”
Albert thought to say, ‘I will kill you,’ but he decided on another way.
“You are a worm,” Albert said. “You hide behind a uniform and a flag, but you are just a worm.”
“No,” Vargas said defensively but also visibly rattled. Then he took a deep breath and calmed himself. “I am a fisherman, and this is my worm.” Vargas pressed the knife against Annie a bit harder. “Now, get on my hook, Prince Albert.”
“Albert, please. Do as he says,” Linda begged. Albert saw little choice but to comply. Vargas recognized this realization in the way Albert’s puffed chest fell.
“Get on your knees, and put your hands behind your head.”
Albert complied.
“Now, cross your legs,” Vargas ordered.
Albert did it.
With the Prince now a diminished threat, Vargas grabbed a handful of Annie’s hair, put the knife away, and took out his pistol.
When Linda saw the gun, she remembered the one she had tucked into her hay bed. She remembered she had chambered a round back at the farmhouse. The safety is on, she thought. I will have to be quick. As if reading her mind, Vargas turned his attention Linda’s way.
“You. Do the same: hands on head, get on your knees, and cross your legs.” Linda knelt as close to where the gun was stashed as possible. Vargas tugged at Annie’s hair to get her to kneel, too. Annie yelped and began to cry hard. Vargas moved his pistol’s point of aim from Albert to Linda and back again. Vargas let go of Annie and pawed for his radio with his freed hand. He found it and clicked the transmit button.
“Culebra zero-dos-uno,” he spoke into the radio. When feedback chirped, he used his gun hand to adjust the squelch dial on the little walkie-talkie.
Linda’s heart pounded. Her throat was dry. She dove for the hay and felt the butt of the gun. Vargas realized she was in motion and began to unfold his arm as he hurried to line up the gun barrel on Linda again. During this moment, Linda was able to raise her weapon, disengage the safety, and get a sight picture. With the dot of her pistol’s front sight settled on Vargas’s chest, Linda squeezed the trigger. Just like her father had taught her, Linda made sure not to jerk the gun as she fired. The gun yapped.