Over the next months, the conflict with the rebels escalates, and in my last week of basic training, my unit is requested to support an active battle in the fight over a mountain village. I'm getting my gear together by the truck when Miguel storms out of the training center, steering right in my direction. Anger spills from his dark eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" he hisses, taking the semiautomatic rifle out of my hand.

My forehead wrinkles. Not sure if I should be touched by his concern or murder him for being overprotective. "Miguel, this is what I've been training for."

"Wrong." He glares in Tomás's direction to get his attention. "You were trained to patrol the streets. Active battle is way too dangerous."

Bad choice of words; I'm not the naïve girl anymore that arrived in Malaguay. Besides, this might be my only chance to prove that I can stand my ground when it matters. "But I want to go."

"Impossible." He whistles on four fingers.

Tomás finally turns his head and jogs over to us.

"Stacy isn't going with you." The firmness in Miguel's tone doesn't leave this an open topic for discussion.

Tomás isn't fazed. "This exercise is part of basic training. If she doesn't go, it'll be as if she dropped out. I won't pass her."

"Women aren't allowed in active battle. That's the law."

"Actually, it's more like a rule. With a few rare exceptions, women simply aren't suited for combat. I cleared it with Varela this morning and he agreed that Stacy should go. Truthfully, I don't think you're giving her enough credit."

In that moment, I could've hugged him.

"Still. I don't think it's a good idea—"

"Let the girl go," comes a voice from behind us. "She can see firsthand what her country has been doing to us."

I spin around to find Santino next to General Varela. All conversations have halted, most eyes glued to the ground. My own words are stuck in my throat; even though I've been living in the mansion, I've only run into Malaguay's president on a few rare occasions. He still intimidates the shit out of me.

Miguel frowns. "I just—"

One look from his father shuts him up.

"Okay, then I'm going, too." Miguel's voice is laced with stubbornness. He reminds me of a little boy who was told he couldn't play second base.

Santino massages his forehead like he's fighting an oncoming headache. His glare cuts into his son. "Miguel, you have to prepare for an important business deal. Please be sensible."

A long sigh escapes Miguel's lips. He grabs my hands and pulls me away to be out of the others' earshot. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll be fine." My heart thumps with excitement. Even though the thought of going to battle should be terrifying, I likely won't get another glimpse of front-row action. I've worked hard for this chance and deserve it.

He doesn't interfere again while I gather the rest of my gear together, the watchful eye of his father upon me the entire time. Just before I climb into the truck, Miguel pulls me aside one more time.

"Don't forget how much I love you, Stacy. I couldn't go on if something happened to you."

Having second thoughts, I glance around. Everyone is staring at us, including a group of foreign girls. I'd totally lose face if I backed out now. "I love you, too."

His lips brush over my forehead.

Tomás hits the side the truck "Let's go, Stacy."

When I turn around and run over to the others, my heart aches. Adventure or not, it's hard to leave the man you love behind.

~~~~

The driver pulls the truck into the safety of a small path and kills the engine. The forest is shrouded in silence. Tomás orders everyone to get out and we huddle around him. His face is even; I can't tell if he's worried or not.

"Escuchen," he calls out and the group falls quiet.

A rapid spate of Spanish words follows. Even though I have picked up a few phrases here and there, I'm totally lost. I should've insisted on Spanish lessons with Naiara, but with guard shifts and training, I've hardly had an hour to spare. Even Miguel has been neglected.

As the others disperse, Tomás turns to me. "The rebels invaded a village to gather up supplies and were surprised by one of our scout troops. They're holding the families hostage. The rebels will likely send reinforcements to aid their escape, so keep your eyes on your surroundings."

When I follow him into the woods, a tingling sensation spreads under my scalp. A makeshift control post has been erected on the edge of a clearing and I settle with the rest of my group under a large tree whose branches offer welcoming shade. They mumble to each other in Spanish, ignoring me for the most part, the same way it has been during basic training. Not only has the language proven a barrier, but the smirks I got from most of them when I struggled to keep up with some of the physical demands were also a clear stab that a woman doesn't count as much as a man in their eyes. Miguel said that soldiers weren't used to women in the military and I should just ignore them.

Tomás joins a few high-ranking officers seated around a table with cigarettes stuck between their lips. When I recognize Felipe, a breath gets stuck in my throat. He only glances at me briefly with a sullen look. I haven't seen him since the incident with Charo and find his presence jarring. I'm no longer afraid of him but won't be able to forgive him, though a small part of me also wishes we hadn't parted in such an ugly way. After all, he was my first love and the first man I ever kissed.

A few minutes later, a group takes off; I'm left behind with my shoulders slumped. No one has bothered to translate and without Tomás, who has disappeared as well, I have no clue what's going on. As I settle in the grass with my back against a tree trunk, regret and disappointment weighs down on me. I'm only in everyone's way with my lack of Spanish.

A single shot cracks through the silence and all hell breaks loose. Machine-gun fire echoes off the mountain walls. I bolt onto my feet, my gaze darting around to find someone who can give me an order. The few soldiers left behind with me take off toward the village. After a slight hesitation, I follow.

My legs carry me automatically through the woods as Tomás's instructions bounce around in my head.

Stay close to the tree line.

Always cover your back.

Be alert.

Heart racing, I scan my surroundings, the gun pointed forward with the safety off, ready to fire. The panting of the guy ahead of me leads the way. By the time I sight the village, my breath comes out in rapid bursts. I double over to calm a stitch. Although the danger is unsettling, the adrenaline suppresses my urge to puke.

Smoke still lingers over the village, but the shooting has stopped. I try to find a familiar face and finally zoom in on Felipe. He's bending over a body on the ground.

"Felipe!"

He snaps his head up. "Stay back—"

A boom, breaking through the still afternoon air, cuts off the rest of his words. For a second, he freezes before slamming face forward onto the ground.

My scream is silent—I sense the danger. Any sound will alert the enemy. With wide eyes, I stare at Felipe's still body, my stare fixed on the blood seeping into the ground. My stomach heaves and I turn away, vomit spilling from my mouth into the forest grass.

Out of nowhere, Tomás appears and shakes me. "Stacy, look at me."

I stare at him with blurry eyes.

"I need you to stay here and not move at all. There are snipers everywhere, and they'll take you out as soon as you step into the open."

"Where did they come from?" My mind tries to make sense of the situation. Malaguay's army outnumbers the rebel forces, yet trained snipers are rare. How did the rebels learn to fight like this?

"They are likely US military advisors."

I take a sharp breath. "Are you sure?"

"Special forces units work deep undercover. There's never any proof, but I've been in the army since I was fourteen, and trust me, you need a lot of training to make these shots. The rebels have neither the skills nor the equipment. It's just like the other night when the rebels dropped the bomb onto the field. US involvement is the only logical explanation." He squeezes my arm. "I have to go. Miguel will kill me if I bring you home with a scratch, so please stay here until I get back."

The next hours turn into the longest day of my life. My gaze keeps flicking to Felipe's still body. Nausea mixes with incredible guilt; if I hadn't distracted him, he could've gotten himself to safety. I hardly register anything else around me. When the shooting finally stops, my head buzzes from sadness and despair.

Tomás reappears. "It's safe to come out now. We raked the forest and the rebels have vanished. I swear this was a trap to draw us out, so they could pick us off one by one."

I stumble behind him as we walk through the village. I pass one still body after another and numbness replaces the horror. The rebels didn't spare anyone. Small children are among the victims, lying cradled next to their mothers. I wipe away the tears that keep dripping off my chin. How can anyone be so cruel to do this to innocent people?

When I'm allowed to climb back into the truck, utter relief washes over me. Words are lost; every one of my group stares into the distance with blank eyes. Unfortunately for them, this is just the beginning. How many will lose their lives in the coming months? At least during patrol, I won't be faced with life-and-death situations.

We get to the compound and Miguel is there, pulling me into his arms the moment I jump off the truck. As he pulls me away, I sob into his shoulder.

"Felipe is dead," I mumble into his chest.

"I know. Tomás called."

Those are the only words spoken that night. In the comfort of his embrace, the tears dry up and a dreamless sleep finally takes me out of my misery. Deep down, I know that things will never be the same. I have lost the last piece of my innocent childhood beliefs.

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2017

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