Freedom Fighters

12. Amiss

The Mexican countryside flashed past Dario in a slow whirl. Swathes of dark green stretched before him. He breathed in the clean air which eventually mingled with the acrid smell from the truck's exhaust pipes. The fresh breeze blew his hair back, allowing him to forget about the dense humidity which would have clung to his skin in the form of trickling patches of sweat. 

They passed by a procession of women carrying baskets of tangerines on their backs. Cows grazed on the tall grass on the other side of barbed fences. Distinct squares of crops were held together by the thick green stitching of hedgerows. It felt good to be in the countryside again. Dario could not remember the last time he saw such a vast expanse of green. The fog in his hazy memory cleared as he recalled a trip he and his parents took a few years ago to visit relatives in the neighbouring province of Mayabeque. He recalled the calm peace that he felt as he gazed upon the lush greenery of nature then. A calm peace that now felt foreign to him as if it was another distant dimension.

"Can't remember the last time I've been in the countryside," he said while sighing in appreciation of the scenery. 

Camilo grinned, stretching his shoulders. "We Havana boys don't get to see this much, do we? This green world feels weird and unreal."

Dario smiled back. "Yes, it does."

"So different from the grey concrete gloom of Havana."

He could only agree with those words. "Indeed."

A guttural growl came from Marco who sat opposite them. A deep frown was entrenched on his forehead. Lionel looked at his twin brother with a similar scowling look.

"Something is amiss."

"Yes," came Marco's hissing reply which instantly put a curious fear into Dario's gut.

Camilo raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

"Amiss? What's amiss?"

Marco gestured to the dirt track they had been travelling on, then to the surrounding countryside. 

"I don't recognise this track at all. This is definitely not the way to the base camp."

"What?" Dario and Camilo exclaimed in unison.

"Yes." Lionel shook his head in an enraged confusion. "I don't know where Huber is taking us." 

Just then, the truck started to slow down. With a last sputter, it halted at the side of the track. Juanita and Huber opened doors and swung themselves out onto the dirt track. They paced over, leaving floating clouds of dust behind them.

Dario saw the lines of worry etched onto Juanita's face and his heart immediately clenched. Her sharp cheeks drooped downwards together with the sides of her lips. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's happened?" Dario inquired. 

Juanita placed a hand on the side of the pickup truck, leaning her forehead onto it. She sighed and shook her head. 

Huber stepped forward, an uneasy smile on his face.

"I am sorry but I did not have the time earlier to explain this. We cannot go to the base camp."

"I knew it!" Marco grunted, clenching his fists. "What happened?!"

"It was raided a few weeks ago by the local police, my friends. Fidel, Raúl and many of the leaders are currently imprisoned."

Batista. Everything about this smelled of his doing. Dario could feel the taste of disgust on the tip of his tongue, combined with a growing fear in the pit of his stomach.