Based on the episode La Bizca
February 1990

Doug and I hopped the first flight to El Salvador. We found ourselves on an old, dirty bus where there was a wagon getting pulled by a donkey in front of us, and the bus was so full, some people were sitting on the roof.

Hay covered the floor of the dirty bus, and someone had a piglet on their lap, and I heard a few chickens too. The air with thick with cigarette smoke, and it was so humid, I was fanning myself with my hand. Doug was sleeping beside me, hugging his backpack to his chest.

I was still wearing Sal's multi-green colored shirt that I borrowed from him in Florida, and I bought a pair of sunglasses at the airport. I was still on vacation mode, and this was not cutting it for me.

I reached over Doug and tried desperately to open the bus window to get some airflow. I got it to slide down a crack, which gave me hope.

Doug woke up with a start and he whined, "just leave it."

"I just got it open," I said as I tried to pull the window the rest of the way down.

"You tried it a million times." Doug pushed me back to my seat.

I was breathing heavy, because I was hot and tired. My hair was sticking to my skin and sweat was building up on my hairline that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I wiped it dry. I am not built for this. I told him angrily, "when we get to the capital, I pick the hotel."

"Fair is fair," Doug agreed.

"And we rent the best car they got."

Doug said, "we get Marta, and we're gone."

I nodded in agreement. Marta was in Metro last year and married Doug, but she and three other women were picked up by government soldiers and deported back to El Salvador. The government didn't believe their marriage was real because it happened so fast. They only knew each other for five days. Doug is in love with her, and was determined to get her back to the states.

I was staring straight ahead, but I noticed Doug moving. I glanced in his direction and saw that he was making goofy faces. I slid my sunglasses down my sweaty nose and followed his eyes and saw that he was making those faces at a child to make her laugh. She was sitting across from us, by her father or grandfather. She couldn't have been more than five years old. She grinned and stood up from her seat, and I smiled at her. Then, her guardian pulled her back into her seat.

I used my finger to push my sunglasses back up and I said to Doug, "friendly place."

"Yeah. The best."

I sighed and let my head rest back. The bus was bumping and jolting but I managed to find a comfortable position. I didn't realize I fell asleep until Doug jabbed me with his elbow. I shot up, and smacked my lips together a few times because they felt dry.

My face tightened as I tried to keep my eyes open. I felt groggy. I followed Doug's frightened gaze to the windshield of the bus, to see that we were approaching a vehicle on fire. I pulled my sunglasses down again to see it better.

The men that surrounded the fire were covered head to toe in camouflage. They held automatic guns up to the bus, and the bus rolled to a stop. The doors opened and one of them boarded the bus and began shouting at us in Spanish. I wish I paid better attention in Spanish class when I was in high school, because I don't know a lick of it.

Everyone on the bus stood up to follow his orders, but Doug and I were just following like sheep because I had no idea what he said. The pig was squealing, and a woman was holding her child close to her with a blanket over his head so he didn't have to see the guns. One of the soldiers grabbed my arm and pulled me off the bus. Then another grabbed my arms and spun me around.

"Okay, okay. Take it easy. We're American," Doug said as they did the same thing to him.

There was a small line of men and women beside us, kneeling on the ground with their hands up in surrender with guns pointed at their heads. The main soldier who yelled at us when we were on the bus came over to the guys holding me and Doug and they slipped him a piece of paper. Doug reached into his pocket, which made the man hit his chest and everyone around us freaked out.

"It's just ID!" Doug said.

They began yelling at him in Spanish, and took the ID from his pocket. He snapped his fingers at me, and I quickly reached into my pocket to retrieve mine. I handed it to him and took my sunglasses off.

He peeked at our ID's and asked, "Americano?"

"Yeah, right down to my ginji's," Doug said. 

The man asked me something in Spanish, so I just replied, "yes. Si."

He handed us back our passports. Then, some guy came over and took our pictures with a camera. I looked at Doug in confusion. What the hell was that for? It can't be good.

They let us get back on the bus, but the men and the woman who were kneeling on the ground were still there.

Behind me, I heard Doug ask the soldiers, "what did they do?"

"Vamoose," I heard the soldier say.

"Wait a minute, what did they do?" Doug asked frantically.

We were pushed all the way down the bus, and we found our seats again in the very back. The bus was chugging at it started driving again. Doug and I looked behind us and saw the soldiers still pointing their guns at the bus as we were slowly driving away. I turned forward and let air puff my cheeks and escape between my lips. That was intense. I wasn't really afraid until that moment, but now we know that there is a lot to fear here.

Suddenly, sharp sounds of gunshots made me jump and we all turned back. I watched the two men and the woman fall to the ground, dead. I turned forward again, with my lips parted in shock. Doug had a dead look on his face. This might be more serious than I thought.

When we got to the Capital, we hitchhiked to the Embajada De Los Estados Unidos, which is Spanish for The United States Embassy. We showed the guard there our passports, and he let us through.

We talked to a brown-bearded guy wearing a gray suit. He expressed to him our concerns regarding Marta and the shooting we witnessed and he unhelpfully said, "all I can do is register your report, Officer Penhall. There's just no way to know exactly what happened."

"We can identify the soldiers," Doug said while crossing his arms.

"Could've been rebels dressed as soldiers."

"What do you mean rebels dressed as soldiers?" I asked. I did not like the sound of that.

"No way to know who's who in Salvador," was his answer. Not very comforting.

Through his teeth, Doug said, "why don't you go out there and take a look."

"Officer Penhall, please sit down. Let me explain," he said in a calm voice. Reluctantly, Doug and I both followed his gesture over to two chairs. When we sat down, he continued, "we're not a human rights office. We're an embassy—" he sat down across from us "—I understand your frustration about the passengers and your wife. We simply don't have any information to go on, in either case. I suggest you go to the human rights office, check their books."

I looked up and asked, "what books?"

He gave us to address to the human rights office and told us to ask to see their books. What they gave us were binders full of laminated photos full of deceased bodies they have recovered. Some of the remains were burned, but I kept seeing the fear that was frozen on their faces. That's not something you can get out of your head. Doug and I were looking through them, but it was really difficult. It made me sick to my stomach.

We finally stopped and I straddled my chair and rested my head against the back of it. My cheek was pressed up against my wrist.

Doug said in a low voice, "the best thing for us to do is drive to the cooperative farm where she used to live, find her sister, her family, somebody who can tell us where she is."

The mustached man from the office said to us in a thick accent, "getting to El Triumphal on foot is not so easy. It means going through battle zones. With the war, everyone is distrustful of strangers, especially strangers Americanos."

"Look," I said as I lifted my head up slightly, "I say we rent a car first thing in the morning, we drive to El Triumphal, we take the chance."

Doug gave me a small nod. His eyes went up to the man and he asked, "and the people from the bus?"

He gave us the answer in Spanish, but the tone of his voice told us that it was not good.

______________________________

Doug and I got to a honky-tonk in town so we could do what we do best: drink.

We ordered a bottle and one of the employees brought it over to us. It was some sort of South American beer. Even though it was nighttime and it was dark in the bar, I had my sunglasses on, but I had it slipped down the bridge of my sweaty nose so I could look over the lens.

Doug poured me a shot and I slurred, "muy beenie."

He corrected me, "muy bueno."

"Muy bueno," I repeated, letting the last vowel linger on my sour tongue. It was hot when we walked into the bar, and even more so now. I already felt a warm, buzzing sensation all over my body.

"Up your nose," Doug said before we both took the shot. It was not our first shot of the night.

Doug groaned as soon as we set our empty glasses down, and I tightened up every face and neck muscle I had to try to get it down. It burned my mouth and esophagus. It was like someone poured gasoline down my throat and tossed in a match. How is this a beer?

Doug grimaced and said, "tastes like distilled horse puckey."

I sniffed and was still trying to find my breath again. I put my elbows on the table and leaned against them. The smell of the alcohol wafted into my nose, and I could have puked from that alone. That alcohol swimming around in my empty stomach wasn't helping matters either.

Doug asked, "what would you be doin' right now if you weren't here?"

I exhaled slowly and said, "I'd be with Mickey, watchin' a movie. I wish I was there right now."

He sighed, "me too."

"Why?" I asked. He is the only reason we are here in the first place.

"Anythin' would be better than here," Doug stated. "How are you two doin', anyway?"

"How do you mean?" I asked automatically. When it clicked what he was trying to ask, I said, "oh, we're good. Real good. She's crazy, but—"

"But at least she's worth it, right?"

"Definitely." I smiled at the very thought of her. "I should... I-I'll call her later, just to tell her."

"Might want to wait until you've sobered up a bit," Doug suggested.

"I really do love that girl, man. Everyone else don't—doesn't matter, not like she does. I could spend a thousand lifetimes with her." I hiccuped. "Some—someday, I'm gonna be Mrs. Mickey Hanson."

"You need to be cut off, man," Doug laughed and took the bottle and put it on his side of the table.

I snatched the neck of the bottle from him and said thickly, "not yet. I'm still on vacation-mode, I'm gonna enjoy this."

"Don't spill it on yourself."

"I won't."

"Guy, you're talkin' in slow motion."

I felt offended. "Am not."

"Are so."

"Everything on my end is hunky-dory," I told him. If I can stay upright, then I'll do more shots of whatever this stuff is. Right now, I just feel so relaxed. My limbs are heavy and loose, and if I move my head then everything gets a little blurry until my stupid eyes can focus. But I'm not drunk. I'm just relaxed. Light and fuzzy.

"I'm sure it is." He sounded condescending, but I didn't have the energy nor the will-power to continue this conversation.

I took a shot straight from the bottle and scrunched my face again as I forced myself to swallow. It tasted like piss, but it was all that we had. The drinks here are hotter than chili-sauce. The more I drank, the easier it was to get down. I just hoped it stayed down.

I chuckled to myself and gazed down at the table. The bottle thumped against the surface of the table, it felt like someone glued a hundred pounds to it. I hyper-fixated on a little crack in the wood and I slurred, "I just wanna go home to her already. I miss her. But, we be here out of... outta—outta here..."

Doug chuckled, "what the hell are you tryin' to say?"

I couldn't tell if my brain was moving faster than my lips, or if my lips were moving faster than my brain. My mind was too clouded. I'm too tired for this conversation, especially since I'm manually breathing. A small hiccup twitched my chest. The words were tumbling out of my mouth before I even realized I said anything. "You'll be with your girl, and I'll be with mine. Win-win. Win-win."

Doug poured us both another shot and said, "okay, a toast and to forgetting."

"Amnesia," I held my glass up. I could see the devil in it. I could use some amnesia to forget this entire day. I felt like I've seen so much, and it's only been one day.

"Head wounds," Doug added.

"Rash," I included. Even my tongue and my lips were relaxed. I let my arms hang loose. I'm about as warm as I can be.

"Hey, this ain't right, two Americans excluding a third," a voice said. Doug and I both looked up to see a man approaching our table. When my head moved, the rest of the world moved slower in my eyes. The man had an American accent, and a baseball cap on top of his thick black hair. He laughed as he sat down at our table. He offered me his hand and said, "Ben Halley."

I took his hand enthusiastically and drunkly introduced myself, "Mahatma Gandhi."

"All right, all right," he chuckled. He shook Doug's hand and asked, "so, what's the deal? You guys lost or what?" He laughed, which made me and Doug laugh with him heartily.

"No, no, we're just trying to get to El Triumphal," Doug said.

We ordered a bottle of Tic Tac which came to the table, and Doug poured me another shot. It's like he's trying to get me drunk, not that I'm opposed. But the room was already going around in circles. I was always surprised and satisfied with myself that I could even get the shot glass up to my lips. I knew I was getting a little inebriated when the vodka was going down like water.

Ben said while inspecting his cigarette, "I still don't get El Triumphal."

I gave my glass a sniff and Doug asked, "why are you so interested?"

"I don't know, natural curiosity, I guess."

"You ever been there?" Doug asked.

"No, no, no, no. I spend my time in the Capital. Comforts of home. Well, some of them anyway."

I drank my glass and Ben chuckled. I set my glass down and wiggled my hand for emphasis as I said, "ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free—" I scrunched my nose and used my finger to put my sunglasses up a little more. I think my nose is numb. "You ever hear that?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Somewhere," Ben said.

If I was drunk, would I have been able to recite that? No. I wiggled my finger at him as if I was writing in the air as I told him, "it's written above the... entrance to the CIA building."

Ben laughed and said, "yeah, but I thought it was out of the Bible or something."

I tried to discreetly motion to Doug if he was listening, so I flipped my hand to him and hit his shoulder. My head was swimming within itself, and it felt light but heavy at the same time. It was like I was moving in molasses. It took all of the mental concentration I could muster to focus on the bottle in front of me, and I closed one eye so I could only see one of them. Doug always jokes that I can't hold my liquor, but I hope he doesn't bring this night up the next time we argue about it.

I know that when I'm seeing double it's time to go home, but at this moment I really didn't care. But my goose was cooked. I used to drink quite a bit, but not so much anymore. So now, really anything can put me on my ass, it's ridiculous how low my tolerance is. Even Mickey has teased me about it, and she doesn't even drink.

Ben took a drink and asked, "so, what's in El Triumphal?"

I used my hand to push my sunglasses all the way up my face and then I grabbed the neck of the bottle. I poured the rest of the vodka into my glass.

"Someone we know," Doug answered as I took the big shot.

"Got yourself a girl?" Ben asked, followed by a laugh.

"My wife," Doug answered quickly.

"What about you?" He asked me.

I sniffed and said, "yeah, I got a... I got a girl. She's over in the States." I waved my floppy hand in the general direction I thought the States were.

"Okay. Well, I can help you guys get over there if you want," Ben offered.

I hiccuped and said, "thanks, but no thanks. We gotta good thing going on here so... we're fine."

Doug checked his watch and said, "I think we should jam. It's getting late."

I looked at my own wrist but my eyes couldn't focus enough on the face of my watch for me to see what time it was. I knew it was a problem when I saw two sets of numbers that blurred together and slipped around in my vision. I'm relaxed, but maybe a little too relaxed. I used my other hand to grab my arm to stop it from moving, but it was making me dizzy. I finally gave up, so I just agreed with him and said, "yeah."

I pressed my palms against the table and a wave of dizziness hit me like a truck as I tried to stand up. I didn't realize how drunk I actually was until I tried to stand up. My body was not working the same as it used to, so I had to unstand up. I fell back into my chair and widened my eyes. I gripped the table to steady myself so I wouldn't fall to the floor. My head was spinning like a record. I shook my head a little bit, trying to shake the drunk feeling out of my head.

"Oh, shit," I mumbled under my breath. A surge of blackness coasted over my vision before fading away and my attention went to Doug. I closed one eye to help see straight and stop the spins, but it didn't work.

Doug leaned towards me and asked, "you okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I reassured despite my brain spinning in my skull. I need to pull myself together. I kept my eyes wide open in an attempt not to look drunk. I thought that if I so much as blinked, my head would fall to the table. Even though the room was shifting, I let go of the table and leaned to the side to bring weight back to my feet. What I didn't know, was that my legs weren't on that side of the chair so my head lead my body straight to the floor. I heard the chair screech back and I felt like I fell in slow motion to the dirty ground.

The room was spinning as I rolled over onto my back with a groan. Fuzzy muttering sounds escaped my lips and I didn't have the commitment to make any coherent words. Sprawled out on the floor in an embarrassing stupor, my stomach was doing flips and I really didn't want to get sick when I was out in public. That's happened too many times already.

Doug rushed to my side and asked if I was okay, and I muttered something in response. I don't even know what I said. I haven't been this drunk in a long, long time. I wanted to joke about how another drink would help, but if I even thought the name of the drink, it might make me puke. I was fine with passing out right there on the floor. It wouldn't be the worst place I've woken up. I closed my eyes, and I felt worse. I needed to hold onto something. I felt so heavy, I couldn't move even if I wanted to.

Ben and Doug got me to my feet, and my arms were over both of their shoulders. My legs were rubbery and I couldn't stand on them. I could feel that my feet and legs were not to be trusted to keep me balanced. Standing upright brought back the terrible dizzy feeling, and the last thing I remembered was Ben and Doug carrying me out of the bar.

______________________________

Doug and I made it to our hotel, no idea how we did. My memory was spotty, but I know I puked at some point. I haven't been this hammered in a long time.

I was laying in bed when Doug came stumbling into the room after using the restroom. I was feeling better, but not great. This was where I was going to stay for the rest of the night, I knew better than to get up or even sit back up. I just needed to sleep it off. I had my hands folded across my chest and a shirt covering my hair so I didn't feel so sweaty. As soon as Doug collapsed on his twin bed on the other side of mine, I scrunched my nose and said, "I smell something funny." Doug rolled over to face me and I finished, "the guy reeks of covert action."

"Oh, yeah, and then he asked us if cops means we're CIA, right."

"The guy at the embassy had one thing right," I said as I looked over at him. "You can't tell who's who in this whole filthy country."

I looked back up at the ceiling as Doug said, "relax. Tomorrow, we drive to the cooperative, everything will be okay." He turned off the lamp between us.

Things were not okay.

After we rented a car, Doug and I were stopped to show our identification. Before we knew it, Doug and I were slammed up against the hood of our car with guns pointed at our heads.

"Who are these guys?!" I asked. They hit me so hard, my sunglasses flew off so I had to catch them against the hood.

They pulled us up by our shirts and spoke Spanish with one another. Doug said, "all right, take it easy."

The guy handed us our passports, but failed to give us back our badges.

As he was walking away, Doug said, "uh—our badges?"

"We're going to need the badges," I said.

He kept walking and Doug angrily called out, "hey, wait a minute. What about our badges?"

I put my sunglasses back on and we tried to follow him, but a couple of other soldiers pushed us back. I stuck my hands up and stumbled back a little. I heard a gun cocking so I shot my eyes over to see one of the men shooting out our tires.

I covered my mouth with my passport in shock as Doug sighed. I was way too hungover to be dealing with this.

I asked, "well, now what are we supposed to do? Trudge the tundra?"

One of the guards came up to us and stuck his thumb behind him. He said something or other in Spanish. We looked at him confused, but then he stuck his palm out and used two fingers to look like it was walking on his palm and he repeated what he said. Walking.

Doug looked at me and stated the obvious. "Walk."

"I gathered that." We started walking along side each other and I lowered my voice to say, "if you would have just kept your mouth shut, we'd still have our car."

"Well, you said something too. They took our badges!"

"We don't need no stinking badges," I said.

We kept walking. The gravel crunched under our feet.

We finally got back into town and we were trying to find a ride. I gave Doug some extra money so we could get a ride from a taxi, and I climbed in the back with a watermelon in my arms. I broke it open and gave Doug a giant piece. What I wouldn't give for some greasy food right now.

I ended up falling asleep in the back seat with my head resting against the back. I woke up when I heard Doug frantically ask, "what?"

"What?" I asked as I shot my head up. We were driving up to another checkpoint, full of soldiers with more guns. I'm getting sick of seeing guns everywhere we go.

Doug said, "better get your passport ready."

The taxi came to a stop and the soldiers rushed to the car, and stuck the guns in through of the windows. Doug was holding up his passport while I was holding my hands in the air. My fingertips were brushing the ceiling of the car.

The driver said something to the soldiers in Spanish, and they opened the doors and forcefully pulled us out. I still had my hands in the air, and I quickly pulled my passport out from my pocket.

We were pushed to a soldier who said to us, "documentos." He snatched our passports from our hands. He passed them off to someone else and he asked us, "where do you think you're going?"

Doug answered, "El Triumphal."

He said, "this road's not open anymore."

He began to walk away and Doug said to him, "well, we didn't know that."

I turned as the man was walking away, and another line of people on their knees caught my eye. I walked over to them, going around one of their trucks with a black tarp and saw the soldiers pushing them around and shoving them to the ground.

Doug came up behind me, but one of the soldiers blocked my view of the people by stepping in front of me. "American police, huh?"

We didn't say anything, but then he called out an order in Spanish. Suddenly, our arms were grabbed and we were being pulled back and told to get back in the taxi.

I leaned forward in the seat so my head was by Doug's shoulder as the taxi driver was getting back in the car. I looked over at the soldier's truck, and an arm covered in blood limply fell out of the tarp.

I couldn't bare to look at that. I fell back into the seat and didn't care to look out the window again until we turned around and we were out of sight. We had to turn back into town, and we didn't have another plan so we just went back into the room.

We drank a little more and went to sleep. In the middle of the night we heard knocking, which woke us both up.

"Give me something," I ordered with a towel covering my head and face. He tried to hand me a Bible, but let it fall to the floor and he instead pulled the drawer out from the bedside table between us. I grabbed a cross statue that fell to the floor to use as a weapon.

I began to prowl over to the door as Doug whined groggily, "what time is it?"

"Shut up," I said in a hushed voice.

We got to the door. Doug was armed with the drawer and I still had the towel hanging over my head, draped over my hair. I asked in a low voice, trying to sound as awake and sober as possible, "who is it?"

"It's Ben," we heard from the other side.

Doug and I looked at each other, both of us relaxing from our defensive positions. How did he know where we were staying? I carefully opened the door but raised the statue up as a threat.

Ben was leaning against the wall, and all he did was chuckle at us. Doug turned the light on and I brought my hand down while narrowing my eyes at him.

He asked us, "you want to get to El Triumphal?"

Doug asked, "what's it to you?"

"I can get you there, but you've got to move now. Get your stuff."

Doug asked, "what are you, kidding?"

"We're not going anywhere with you," I said as I pulled the towel off my hair but let it bunch over my neck, "because you're working for the people who keep stopping us." I sat down on Doug's bed as he arched his back in a stretch.

Ben said, "whatever you want, you got 30 seconds." He retreated back into the hallway and started heading down the stairs.

Doug immediately walked to his suitcase and I asked in a low voice, "you're not going to go with that guy? He's CIA."

Doug had his shoes in one hand and bag in the other. He got to the doorway and said, "what choice do I have?"

I watched him trot down the stairs, but I sat there. I felt so sluggish. I still had twenty seconds left, I was going to make them count.

______________________________

The next morning I was galloping through the rainforest, struggling immensely under the brutal heat. The sky was overcast, which made the air sticky.

I was hunched forward to assist in walking. We had been walking for hours. I had to scrunch and flex my cheeks and nose to keep my sunglasses from sliding down my sweating face.

"All right, it's been two hours since we got out of town." I dramatically checked my watch. I was carrying my brown backpack over my stomach so my back didn't get more sweaty than it already was.

"Where the hell are we?" Doug asked.

I walked up behind Ben and said in a harsh whisper, "all we can squeeze out of you is 'over the next hill'. Now, I can't even see the next hill—" I turned to Doug "—can you?!"

"I don't see a hill," Doug said.

Ben was walking steadily with a gun at his shoulder. He said in a level voice, "you're out of town, trust me."

I stomped my feet in frustration and I whined which made my voice high, "we don't even know who you are."

"Somebody who can get you what you want. Some people have got to check you out first."

"What people?" I asked defeatedly. I felt defeated. I had to put all my trust into this stranger, and hope that I don't die in the process.

"The only people we've seen—stop," Doug pleaded.

Ben turned around just to put his finger to his lips and shush us. I was so exhausted, I leaned up against Doug and began to pant. I need water. I need food.

"The only people we've seen stuck guns up our noses," Doug whispered.

Ben held his gun in his hands and said, "Treasury Police, National Police, Guardia, Army, just take your pick, but these are not those people. You just have to trust me."

The rhythmic sounds of tapping in the wilderness caught all of our attention. Ben told us to wait, and he walked away.

I asked, "where are you going?"

He marched up to me and snapped with his finger in my face, "just do it."

He walked off, leaving Doug and I alone. I began walking off myself, in the other direction. I felt so exposed just put in the middle of the trail like that. Doug asked me, "where are you going?"

"I'm not going to stand there like a target."

Doug caught up to me and he asked, "what are we going to do?"

I stopped when I found a giant leaf nearby. I squatted down behind it and Doug said sarcastically, "oh, this is good, sitting like a target."

Well, it was better than nothing.

Guns were cocking around us as people began stepping out from the trees and the leaves. Ben was one of those people, and when I saw them I pressed my lips together and lifted my hands up in the air, and Doug followed my lead.

Ben told us that they were with the rebels, but Doug and I stayed completely still. I don't think I can ever fully trust strangers with guns.

"I'm turning you over to them," Ben said to us.

Doug and I stood up at the same time, and my elbow was over his as we kept our arms up. His hand was right in my face.

______________________________

Doug and I sat against a tree trunk while the rebels were going about their business around us.

One of the leaders squatted down beside us and asked, "I want to know why you're going to Triumphal."

I looked over at Doug and pointed to him briefly. This was his mission, not mine.

Doug answered, "my wife disappeared. I'm looking for her."

The leader glanced at Ben and said, "so Ben says. My father and I taught at the University. When the soldiers closed it down, they killed him along with many others, friends, and students, people of conscience." He looked over at one of the other rebels and said, "she found the bodies of her sister and her mother near their house. Later she found their heads stuck on road markers."

I stared at him in bewilderment. I couldn't imagine seeing my loved ones like that. My mother, or Mickey. Just imagining it made my stomach turn. I don't think I would be able to handle something like that. I wouldn't be able to live after that.

He continued, "everybody has a story. Which side are you on?"

Doug said, "they took my wife."

We all looked at one another for a long moment before he stood back up. He said to Ben, "feed them," and he left.

______________________________

Darkness fell and we were on the move once again. Doug and I were in charge of carrying a heavy box of explosives.

Doug and I set the box down to take a breath, but some woman came up to us speaking Spanish. She didn't sound too happy. When she left, I turned to Doug and asked, "what?"

He chuckled emptily. "I don't know."

Ben came up to us and said, "short, slow steps or you'll never last."

Doug and I both sighed. I repeated, "short, slow steps. We're never gonna get there. Doug, my feet are killing me, man." I leaned up against the tree we were next to. Everything hurt.

Doug sighed, "I'm sorry—" he stood up "—you know, when I brought you down here, I didn't know we were going to have to walk all the way."

I didn't think so either. I really thought this was going to be an extension of the vacation in Florida. I stood up and looked at Doug angrily. I fluttered my fingers in front of his face as I quoted Hardy, "this is another fine mess you've gotten me into."

Don't let my funny bone fool you. Even though I quoted one of my favorite comedic duos, Laurel and Hardy circa 1930's, I was still angry. What I wouldn't give to watch Laurel and Hardy again. They do slapstick comedy, and I used to watch it a lot as a kid. I could hear the iconic theme music in my head, and it made me feel nostalgic. I recently showed Mickey one of their movies for the first time, and she liked it. I'm thankful that she's an old soul like me.

I heard laughter, so I looked over to see one of the women from the rebel group laughing softly at us. She was sitting on a rock, cleaning her gun. I laughed and pointed at her and asked, "hey, Laurel and Hardy, do you know them?" We started walking up to her. We squatted down beside her. "They're these great comedians, and they, you know, scratch their heads—" I scratched my head to demonstrate "—and stuff like that and made weird faces. Show her."

Doug put his hands on his knees and requested, "se dice, another fine mess?"

The woman repeated slowly, "another fine mess."

"But with a—" I said and wiggled my fingers in front of my face in a wave pattern, like I did when I first said it.

Doug mumbled a bit before he demonstrated rolling his head back and forth, which made her smile. He did my finger-thing and said, "another fine mess you've gotten me into."

She copied the finger wiggling and began to say, "another—"

One of the rebels came up behind her and leaned down to tell her something in Spanish. She stopped to listen. When he left, we knew our fun was over. We all stood up and I walked to my brown backpack. I threw it up to sling it over my back, but when I stood up straight I was met with a man who I had never seen before. I accidentally hit him with my backpack when I threw it over my shoulder. He scared me. He was wearing a black vest with a sash of bullets, and a gun in his hands.

He began shouting at me in Spanish and I quickly apologized. The woman we were talking to rushed to my aid and began yelling back at him.

He eyed me angrily and walked off. The woman explained in Spanish to me, but all I could ask was, "what?"

Doug knows a little Spanish from his time with Marta. He translated, "um, tired. Everybody's tired."

"Oh, well, how can we help with their stuff if they don't trust us?" I asked.

"Another fine mess," the woman said proudly.

She walked off and I said softly, "yeah. Another fine mess."

We kept walking until we reached some sort of camp. There was a woman there cooking something when she came over to welcome us. People were hugging their loved ones. I had my brown backpack on my front, and a gray one of my back. There was also a large bonfire.

When we arrived, people from the camp came over and took the box from our hands. My fingers were cramping, so I was opening and closing my fist to stretch them out. I looked up at the night sky, and I swear I could see Mickey's eyes in the stars. The very thought of her brought me into a daydream. Man, I want to go home to her so badly. I never knew how slow the moments go until I'm near her.

We followed Ben to the fire and he set his gun down and he said, "have a seat, guys."

I took my backpack off and finally sat down for the first time all day. I groaned as I plopped down, right in front of the fire. I leaned back, but there was nothing to stop me so I had to throw my arm back to catch myself. I readjusted on my log as Ben poured us some sort of warm liquid into metal cups.

"Un cerveza, por favor," Doug said.

Ben laughed, "will some beer nuts, huh?" We all laughed a little. "I tell you, it sure is good to hear English again."

"How long you been here?" I asked.

"Oh, a little better than a year," he said and set the metal pitcher down. He began to hand us our cups and he said, "here you go."

We all got our mugs and we talked to Ben for a bit. He told us that he was trained as a medic in Southeast Asia, he's a veteran. He watched women, children, and even elderly people get killed. He made it seem like what we've been through is a cake walk. He reminded us that it could be worse. Much worse.

______________________________

The next morning, Doug and I were resting on sleeping bags. Even though I was exhausted, I didn't get much sleep last night. We were looking up at the peaceful morning sky and we were talking.

I sighed and said, "I want to go home."

All I could imagine was how Mickey was waiting for me to come home. I missed her so much. What I wouldn't do to be home right now, holding her tight. She was keeping me going. I'll find my way out of here and get back home to her, and I'll take her in my arms and that is where she will stay, because I will never leave her again.

"Me too. But we are so close to Marta, I can feel it. I can't wait to bring her home and we can finally start our lives together."

I nodded softly. I have spent so long being trapped in a haze and I just wanted to be in the safety of my own home, and I know that everything will be all right. I closed my eyes and imagined what I would be doing with Mickey right now if I was there. If I could, I'd crawl back to her on my knees. This place has really worn me down, I just can't wait to see her again. I could barely remember what day it was.

"Were you serious the other night?" Doug asked.

"What did I say?" I asked. My memory was drawing up a blank.

"That you wanted to marry her?"

I didn't realize that I told Doug. Good thing it was just him and not someone else. I nodded and said, "of course I want to. I don't think I've been happier in my life. You know, I used to say that I would never fall in love again until I found her. And I did."

My mind drifted to one of my happiest times with Mickey. It's when we danced together. It may not be her happiest, but it's mine. I will always remember the song that was playing the first time we danced. If I could have that dance for the rest of my life, she would be my partner every night because when we are together, everything just feels perfect. As we moved together, I knew forever that she is all I will ever need.

I've hungered for her touch. It's been a long, and lonely time without her because time goes by so slowly. I need her love to keep going in this terrible place. May God speed her love to me. I sighed, "wait for me. I'll be coming home, just wait for me, my darling." 

Man, she's got me good.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle shot through the sky and exploded right by our camp. A blast of dirt and smoke exploded up and shouting commenced throughout the camp. Doug and I immediately jumped to our feet in a panic and began to run for cover as another bomb exploded nearby.

Ben came running out, so we followed him. We were running for our lives. We hid in a trench with a few other guys that had a little wall of sandbags. I had one arm wrapped around Doug, and I ducked my head down.

We heard more bombs dropping, followed by explosions all around. One of the guys had a radio that they turned on and all I heard was more Spanish.

Ben translated for us, "he's making target passes. He'll soon be back. Your tax dollars at work."

I readjusted my feet in my squat position and all I felt was dirt squishing under the soles of my feet. I looked down and said, "I left my shoes."

There was another explosion which made my ears ring. A wave of smoke and dirt fell over us. We all hid our faces, and I gripped Doug tighter to me. My heart was pounding out of my chest as the anticipation of where the next bomb would hit frightened me. I don't think I've ever been so scared for my safety in my life.

"They're coming this way. We'd better get the hell out of here," Ben said and we all bolted out of the trench. Doug offered me his hand to yank me out and we started sprinting. Within moments, a ball of fire exploded in the trench we were just in. If it wasn't for Ben, we all probably would have died.

Doug and I jumped to get out of the way. After I heard the explosion, I rose my head up slightly and saw debris of fire surrounding us. I looked back and saw the fire that was spreading in the trench.

Doug and I looked at each other when we heard someone screaming in pain. We followed the voice and we found a victim of one of the bombs. We carried him horizontally together to the little make-shift hospital. It was just a bed with a little tent covering with a medic.

He was crying out in pain as we put him on the bed. "He's pretty banged up," I said.

"He's dying," the medic said. He gave him a shot and explained to us that it was for the pain. "After, check his boots, maybe they'll fit you."

My lips parted and my eyes widened in shock. Doug looked back at me, and my forehead was sticky with sweat and blood. Suddenly, Doug rushed out of the tent. I followed him with my eyes and saw him talk to some woman, but I didn't recognize her.

At night, Doug and the woman disappeared into a tent while I was off trying to find shoes. I finally found a pair and slipped them on. They felt fine until I started walking. They felt tighter, and I could barely wiggle my toes. Just knowing that these were dead man's boots made my heart sink.

I walked into the tent and on them talking and I sniffed to show my presence. The dark haired woman was sitting in a chair in front of a table. She turned around and asked me, "how do they fit?"

I readjusted the boot and said honestly, "they're a little snug."

She said, "they are Ricardo's. You will have to march a long time to fill them."

"Marta taught you English," Doug said. I put my hands on my hips and looked down at my boots.

"She thought it was important to know one's enemy." She turned to face the table.

"You know, we're not the enemy, us personally," I said while gesturing between me and Doug.

She looked back at us and said, "you are the exception. Marco has decided that tomorrow Rosina will take you to the cooperative. If there is news of Marta, it will come there first."

I glanced at Doug and scratched my lower back.

Later, Doug told me that she was Marta's sister, Amalia. No one has any idea where Marta was, and she has been missing for five months. Amalia hasn't been home in a year, but she has a son at the cooperative farm named Clavo. Doug has a nephew.

______________________________

The next day, Doug and I were walking along the dirt road with Rosina between us. She wore a brown flowing skirt with a beige shirt knotted in the front. She's the same woman from last night, who we were trying to teach the ways of Laurel and Hardy. I didn't catch her name before.

Rosina said, "here is another fine mess."

"Great!" Doug said as we were walking down the road.

"You..." She continued, "you..."

"You've gotten me into," I said slowly.

"You gotten—you've gotting me—" we stopped walking "—here's another fine mess you gotten me on to."

I smiled at her proudly. She had a light that brightened her dark eyes. She was doing a great job. I loved talking about Laurel and Hardy to someone who hasn't seen them before. She's going to learn English in a snap, if she wanted to. She was very smart and clearly driven. Besides, I think talking about this was a good distraction from everything that was happening around us.

There were two sudden gunshots. I jolted back as Rosina twitched and immediately fell to the ground. A bunch of soldiers came out from the woods, and kept shooting at us. I raised my hands over my head for cover before I dropped to my knees so hard my sunglasses flew off. I dropped my backpack and raised my hands up in surrender, terror frozen on my face. Guns were being pointed at our heads, and neither of us moved.

My jaw was trembling as I looked down at Rosina. She was dead. Blood pooled out of her gunshot wounds, soaking her clothes. Her eyelids were half open, and she was looking at everything but nothing. There was no light in her eyes anymore.

I couldn't believe it. Just moments ago, we were laughing and now she is dead. There was no warning. I just hoped she didn't feel any pain.

We were captured by the enemy military. We were brought to their base and tortured for information. Our wrists were bound together with rope, along with our ankles. They didn't believe that we were cops. They accused us of being communists, and I could hear Doug's cries of pain from another room.

After beating me with their fists, feet, and the butt of their guns, they grabbed my arms and carried me into the bathroom. They ripped off my boots and put them on top of my backpack. I was trying to fight back, but they worked together to immobilize me.

Their leader was smoking a cigar in the corner of the room, but the soldiers grabbed me and dunked me upside down into a dirty bathtub full of murky and freezing cold water. My feet were bare in in the air. I was grunting and groaning as they dunked me up and down like I was a plunger. I forced my body to thrash around as I struggled desperately to get out of this death trap. They would pull me up for a couple seconds, barely giving me enough time to blow the water out of my nose and shake the water out of my eyes and take another breath before I was dunked back in. Water streamed into my nose, throat, eyes, and my ears. My face got goosebumps. My face should never get goosebumps so this was definitely torture. 

The freezing cold sensation was jarring, and severe anxiety was building up every time I was taken out of the water because I was anticipating the next drop, but they were dunking me in an irregular pattern. It was like I was breaking through glass every time I was dunked in the water, where icicles were piercing my skin. The cold water shocked my body, sapping any bit of strength I had. I was bone rattling, mind-numbing cold. I felt like I was drowning. It caused an immediate gag reflex, and it hurt so bad. My lungs cramped. My mouth hurt. My throat burned. My head ached, and all I saw was blackness. I violently puked into the water, and they continued to waterboard me. I was struggling against the men holding me, but I was so weak from lack of food and water over the past few days that I couldn't do anything but barely squirm.

The only thing I could do was disassociate. I tried to pull my mind out of my current situation, and I let it run rampage. I was blacking out, but I could visualize Mickey's bright smile. I tried to remember my favorite memory with her, and I let it flash before my eyes. I hope I can see her again. She is my reason to live. I'd give the entire world for her. Mickey is absolutely wonderful and she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Just the thought of being near her again was the only thing getting me through that torture. If I am blessed enough to get out of here, I'm going to hug her and tell her that I love her endlessly, and never let her go.

There was a small, but still resilient voice that said that help was near, and it would all be over soon. Maybe that voice was God, or my own Jiminy Cricket trying to ease my suffering. I was so blind from the pain, I couldn't see how I was going to get out of here. I genuinely believed this was the last thing I was ever going to see.

Before I knew it, I was tossed into a dark room that was completely covered in hay. I laid right beside Doug on my face as they slid the door closed. I barely mustered the strength to reposition myself. I was exhausted, and my lungs, nose, and throat burned. Every muscle was throbbing. I really thought they were going to drown me back there.

The hay crinkled as Doug scooted closer to me. I felt him wrap his hand around my arm and carefully roll me onto my back. I was so weak, I could barely move by myself.

"They can't keep us here," Doug said to me softly.

I relaxed a bit to let myself breathe, but it hurt. Everything hurt. I just wanted to fall asleep and not wake back up.

"You didn't tell them anything, did you?" Doug asked.

My eyes were squeezed shut and I breathed heavily. It took so much energy just to listen to him and respond. I shook my head softly, "no."

"Good," Doug said. He reached over and gathered a bunch of hay and shoved it under my head like a pillow. My face scrunched from the pain as I tried not to cry out. Even my toes and the tops of my feet were scraped up and burning from when the men were dragging me on the ground.

I was so exhausted, it suppressed the pain and I finally fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up to Doug grabbing my leg. I've been in a state of panic for so long, I jolted awake. I was sitting in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall while Doug was sitting beside me. He reached forward and grabbed some newspaper that wasn't there earlier, and my eyes darted between the paper and Doug. He unwrapped it, and revealed tortillas that were hidden inside.

I sat up a little straighter and snatched one. I didn't even ask how he got them. I was so hungry, I don't care if he got it from the bathroom floor of a Wendy's. I folded it and shoved it in my mouth, savoring every bite like it was going to be my last. Who knows? It could be.

The sudden sound of an explosion caused Doug to bolt upright. I was still too weak to really do anything. We heard the faint sounds of screaming, so Doug helped me stand up and we shuffled to the window. I leaned against the wall in pain as we looked out the window. We saw rebels arriving in trucks, fighting the enemy military. They were all shooting at each other, and bodies were falling down left and right.

We walked to the other end of the cell and leaned against the wall beside the door. We lurked in the shadows as we heard the sounds of gunshots echo through the hallway. They were close.

I got chills when I heard footsteps approaching our cell. I saw a shadow cast over the bars and a giant hand grip one of the bars of the door. I pressed myself further into the wall so he couldn't see me. Then, I grabbed at Doug and pulled him into the corner, and he protectively put his arm in front of me.

Whoever was on the other side must have known we were there. He began shooting the door with his automatic gun. Fire from his gunshots lit up our cell, and it broke the lock. He kicked the door open. I was terrified.

My arm was wrapped around Doug's shoulder as we slowly walked out of the shadows. I could see the rage in the man's eyes. His face was covered in dirt, and I recognized him as the same guy I accidentally hit with my backpack. He slowly lifted up his gun to us, blaring his teeth like a wild animal.

Suddenly, I heard Amalia's voice call out to him. She must have been on the other side of the hallway. He looked at her, then back at us. He gave us an angry expression before he marched down the hallway.

Amalia took his place and we hesitantly stepped out of the cell. She asked, "are you all right?"

"Are you all right?" Doug asked, louder.

"I was lucky," she said. My arm was still wrapped around Doug's shoulders as we slipped out of the cell. We slowly began walking down the hallway of cells as she said, "we must hurry."

Doug asked, "how did you know we were in there?"

"We didn't," she said, "our attack has been planned for a long time. We had a man inside. He told us you were here. We came for another prisoner and for guns."

Doug's breathing halted when we reached the stairs. I looked down and saw that we had to step over dead bodies. I almost froze, and I began to stumble over my feet as I leaned into the railing of the stairs. Good thing Doug still had a hold of me, because I definitely would have fallen down the staircase. Amalia kept us focused by saying, "we must hurry. Come on. Vamonos rapido!"

______________________________

It was bright outside again, and we were at a camp. I was given a change of clothes. Old jeans, a dirty white under shirt and a brown long sleeve over shirt. I was also wearing a handkerchief around my head which helped with collecting the sweat on my hairline. Anything was better than that Peter Pan-shirt that I have been wearing for days.

We were told that Amalia was going to take us to El Triumphal.

I walked over to a giant crate full of boots. I was pawing through it, testing the sizes by pressing the bottom of the boots up to my dirty bare foot. Ben came up behind me chuckling, "you change shoes more than anybody I've ever known."

"Yeah, well, I can't help it, I'm a slave to fashion," I joked as I pressed another boot up to my foot. I finally found a pair that was going to fit, so I excused myself to sit on a nearby log to put the boots on. I slowly slipped them on, and chuckled triumphantly when I finally found a pair of boots that fit. It gave me a little bit of hope.

I walked up to Doug and the rebel leader and Amalia with Ben behind me. Rebel said to Doug, "in remembrance of us," and shook his hand.

"What is this?" I asked under my breath.

Rebel slid two rocks into Doug's hand. What's that for?

Amalia said to Rebel, "I'll send word before I come back." She hugged him and moved on to Ben. "Goodbye, Ben."

"Take care," he said and returned the hug.

I gave my hand to Ben. "Ben."

"Mahatma," he chuckled. I laughed and he patted my shoulder with his free hand.

Doug shook his hand too. "Thank you, for everything."

"Watch your back," he advised.

We walked with Amalia all the way to the cooperative farm. It had gotten dark by then, but I saw children, there was a small fire, and I heard a dog bark. They had a lot of fires, which helped with being able to see in the dark. Everything was quiet, I didn't hear much chattering. I heard the comforting crackling of the fire that surrounded us.

Amalia finally stopped and turned to us. She said, "this is El Triumphal. Our Triumph."

Doug and I looked around while she walked off a little. Suddenly, I heard, "mommy, mommy!" And some little kid came out of one of the shelters. He ran right up to her, and she scooped him up in her arms.

Amalia put him on her hip and turned to us. Proudly, she said, "this is my boy. Clavo."

I smiled softly at the boy. I imagined he was seven or eight years old, and then it hit me that he was Doug's nephew.

Amalia said something to Clavo in Spanish, then told us, "I'm telling him your uncles."

Doug greeted him and held up his hand, and Clavo gave him a high-five.

"Hola," I said and he gave me a high-five too. We missed a little, but that's okay.

He had such a bright smile. Cute kid.

Amalia excused herself and left with Clavo. Doug turned to me and said, "he gave me cinco."

Our attention was directed to the sound of soft cries. An older woman came out of one of the shelters and walked over to Amalia. She cried softly and held her close. Amalia pulled away, called her Momma, and introduced us to her in Spanish. I gave her a soft wave when I heard her say my name.

She was still emotional when she gave Doug a hug. Doug is quite a bit taller, so he had to bend down to get to her.

"Hello, mom," he said as they pulled away. Marta's mother.

His mother-in-law was talking tearfully, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She was talking through tears and sniffles. Doug's ears perked up and he asked, "what about Marta? Soldiers? What did she say?"

Amalia looked at Doug sorrowfully. Her voice was tight as she tried not to cry and she told us, "they buried her two days ago where soldiers left her body."

The soft cries of Marta's mother filled my ears, but I immediately looked at Doug. He froze as he was trying to process the information. He slowly turned around and took a few steps away. I looked back at him. I had no idea what to say.

I know Doug as well as I know the back of my hand. I decided to leave him alone. I know I'd want some time alone if I found out that Mickey was dead.

Later in the night, I found him sitting at a table beside one of the fires. I came up to him and sat down next to him, placing my cup of ale on the table. He already had one. I asked, "how you doing?"

He had his elbows propped up on the table and he was staring at his fingers. He answered in a soft voice, "about as well as anyone else here. They all say it's God's will."

"What do you say?" I asked.

He finally looked at me and tightened his hand into a fist. "How can they stand it?" He swallowed harshly and kept going, "they've been fighting for so long and all they have is this—" he twisted his wedding ring around his finger "—I just wish I could do something."

Doug let his head hang, and I had no words. I glanced out at the camp. I felt the same way. We have been here less than a week, and this is their life. No one should ever live like this.

Amalia and her mom were heating up tortillas over the fire, and Clavo came running over to give some to us.

I grabbed one of the tortillas and began prancing it around the table like an action figure. I plugged my nose and said in a nasally low voice like I was talking through a radio, "mayday. Mayday. This is check number 1. This is check number 1–" I made a white noise sound with my mouth that made Clavo giggle "—we lost control. We lost control!" I plopped the tortilla on Doug's head. Clavo thought it was hysterical, and Doug smiled just a bit.

Amalia came over and put her hands on Clavo's shoulders and chuckled, "you're getting him too excited. Time for him to go to bed."

Doug took the tortilla off his head and I waved at Clavo by wiggling my fingers in his direction as Amalia led him away. "Bye."

"He's a cute kid," Doug said.

"Yeah," I agreed. I put my elbow on the table and rested my chin against the palm of my hand and I watched warmly as Amalia walked with Clavo to his room and tucked him into bed. I'd love to have a kid of my own someday.

"You and Mickey thinking about having kids?" Doug asked.

"What? No—well, we haven't talked about it. In case you don't remember, we aren't even married."

"Oh... thinking about getting married?"

"Someday. I want to. But we aren't living together yet. She wanted to wait until we were together for at least a year. I'm gonna ask her to move in soon."

"It's been a year already? Wow. I shouldn't be surprised, you did date for months without telling me."

"We don't have to be talking about this, you know." I felt bad talking about my relationship when he just found out his wife died.

"It's fine. I like the distraction."

I sighed, "well, Mickey sometimes says things like 'when we have kids...' or, whatever."

"Dude. That's girl talk for she wants a ring."

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Really. Dorothy was the same way, but she was a little more up front about it."

I chuckled. "If we get out of here, I would ask her but it's not that easy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not staying in Metropolis."

"What?"

"The DEA offered me a job, and I'm gonna take it."

"You weren't gonna tell me?" He asked.

"I was gonna make an omelette and tell you."

"Does Mickey know?"

I looked down at my hands and shook my head. "The DEA doesn't even know yet. But I can't give Mickey and ring and force her to stay with me, without being able to see me for years at a time. I could never do that to her. I could never force her to be in a relationship with me when I'm not even here."

"Oh. That is a problem," Doug said.

"Yeah."

Doug and I sat in silence, drinking our ale and listening to the fire crackle nearby. When it was time for bed, we were given our own little shelter with a couple of cots.

At sunrise, Doug and I were walking together through the camp. "Amalia says it's about a four hour walk, that should help," he said.

"Maybe get some flowers or something on the way," I suggested.

We walked up to Amalia and Clavo. She was wearing a purple dress with a dark patterned shawl covering over her shoulders. She was going to come with us to Marta's grave. Doug said, "wow, look at you."

"Gracias. It feels very strange, too open." Then she asked me, "would you watch him for a moment?"

"Yeah," I nodded and smiled.

She said, "Douglas, I have a favor to ask."

Doug and Amalia walked off, leaving me with Clavo. He was shaking his hand, so I used my sleeve to wipe the gunk off his palm. He didn't speak English, but that didn't stop us from bonding.

I was squatting down in front of him, messing around with his wooden toy car. His mom called out his name, and he ditched me to run to her. I walked up to them, just as Amalia passed Clavo off to Doug. She walked off, and I followed.

It got dark and we were still walking. Doug and I were carrying lanturns so we could see where we were going. All of us stopped, besides Doug, when we reached Marta's grave.

Doug walked up to it. It was large rocks that formed a circle, with two sticks tied together to resemble a cross that was poking out of the loose dirt. He knelt down and placed his flower gingerly on top of the soil.

My heart broke for him when he said in a trembling voice, "I finally find you, and I don't know what to say. I don't even know how this happened. I love you, Marta. I don't—I didn't know you." He grunted and cleared his throat, followed by a sniff so he wouldn't cry. "Five days. I had five days. Here I am with these flowers." I could hear him crying. "I miss you."

I looked down at Clavo, who was pressed up against Amalia's legs. I smiled down at him softly. I exhaled slowly, and I clenched my jaw. I couldn't imagine how Doug was feeling. I felt terrible for their entire family. None of them deserved this.

"Clavo's coming. Clavo's coming with me back home. This place is so full of cruelty. I promise you, I'll love him like he was my own." He gingerly placed the flowers on the soil. "Our own."

______________________________

We flew back to Metro, and we were trapped in the metal plane for almost nine hours. I sat by a stranger while Doug sat beside Clavo across the aisle. Every muscle in my neck and back was tense the entire bumpy ride back home. After that entire ordeal, all I wanted to see was Mickey. I missed her so much.

I picked up my car and drove straight to her place. I probably shouldn't have let myself drive. I was exhausted and shaky. When I finally got to my apartment, I fumbled with my keys and opened the door. I saw my girl sitting cross-legged on the couch in her pajamas, with a bowl of pasta in her hands. She had a few spaghetti noddles hanging out of her lips, and when she turned to me, she slurped them up.

Mickey's eyes widened and she nearly dropped the bowl to the ground. "Oh! Oh! Tom!" She exclaimed as she quickly set it on the coffee table and smiled at me lovingly and rushed into my arms. When she calls my name, it feels like home.

I opened up my arms for her, and took a few quick steps and wrapped my arms around her. I straightened up and lifted her off the ground just slightly. Her voice is the sweetest sound I have ever heard. She held me tight and she exclaimed, "you're home! Oh god, I missed you so much."

I could have collapsed right here now that I'm safe in her arms. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, and I tried to tell her how much I missed her too, but a lump formed in my throat and I couldn't croak anything out. The pressure worked its way up to my eyes and I sprung a leak. I don't care if it's dramatic, I'd rather die than to leave her ever again.

"You smell like shit," she joked.

"I feel like shit," I laughed. I sniffed and squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to soak in her embrace, but just knowing that I was in her arms again somehow allowed my body to break down. I really didn't want to do this in front of her, but I was just so overwhelmed with finally seeing her again and the torture I endured and all the brutality I witnessed. I really needed that hug. I really needed her. When it's just us, she can make the world go away.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked in a gentle voice. I felt her delicate fingers slide up my hair and her other hand rubbed up and down my sore back.

I could feel my lips trembling, but I wasn't talking. I sniffed and cleared my throat and finally said, "I'm okay."

"Hey, look at me," she said and pulled away. She cupped her hand to my cheek, and when I blinked, I felt a tear roll down to her fingers. Her hazel eyes were so loving, I let my head relax in her warm hand. She smiled at me softly and asked, "wanna take a shower and tell me all about it?"

I could smell myself. I smelled bad. Really bad. I've done nothing but run and sweat in a humid and painfully hot climate for the past week. I knew I reeked. The closest I've been to having a wash was when I was tortured via water dunking. I'm surprised she was willing to be this close to me. She must love me a lot.

"Yeah." My voice was raspy so I cleared my throat, then I said, "I don't want to go anywhere without you ever again."

She smiled at me tenderly as she wiped my sticky cheek with her thumb. "You're home now. It's just me and you. You're safe. I'm not going anywhere."

I nodded gently and closed my eyes. I feel secure when I am near her. Sometimes I wish I could freeze time. But I know that I will forever love her, for the rest of my days. If our love ceases, then it's the end of my world for me.

I took her suggestion and took a shower. Once I turned the water on, it took a while for me to actually step into the shower. I felt panic when I could hear the water, I was terrified. I eventually got into it and I was smelling like apples and flowers by the time I got out. She had prepared a bowl of spaghetti for me, and we sat on the couch and she told me that she told Fuller that me and Doug were gone, so he wasn't too mad at us. I told her about everything we saw, not leaving out a single detail. I also told her about Marta, and that Doug's nephew Clavo was now living with him.

After I ate, I found myself laying on top of Mickey like I was her blanket. My head was on her chest, and my arms were wrapped around her. Her fingers were gently scratching my back, slowly and lovingly. Her nails lightly scratched my scalp, making me drowsy.

I want to be with her until we are both grey and old. I feel like I've found someone I've been searching my entire life for. I will never fall in love again. I took her in my arms, and there she will stay for the rest of our lives. I let my tired eyes fall closed, finally feeling safe.

That night, I had the best nights sleep I have ever had.

🤌I found out that Principal Franklin from iCarly is on an episode of 21 Jump Street, I can't remember the name of the episode though
🤌Clavo is played by the same actor who played Georgie in the original IT movie! I didn't realize how many actors I recognize that were in 21 Jump Street
🤌thank you animejana for the request!! ❤️