Freedom Fighters

16. Storm

Dario thumbed the smooth wood on the sides of the rifle, then down to its stock and butt. It felt heavy in his hands, but not in an uncomfortable way. The weight gave him a sense of security and empowerment. He looked at the rifle up close, trying to take in every detail about it. 

"Feels heavy, doesn't it?" Marco watched him with a faint smile. "You will get used to it soon enough."

Camilo fiddled with the operating rod for a little, before slinging the rifle around his neck. 

He stood up and grinned, putting his hands on his hips. "How do I look, Dario?" 

"Oh, stop playing around."

"What! We earned this! That long march was hell, I tell you."

Dario could not help but allow a slight upwards curl at the sides of his lips. He remembered waking up in his tent to find out that he had been out cold for almost a full day. After wolfing down the breakfast prepared for him by Juanita outside their tent, Alberto came over to present their first rifles, a guttural grunt as his form of approval. The Almeidas and many others gave their warm congratulations afterwards. They were now officially a part of the family.

"Yes, it was," Lionel chipped in. "I nearly thought you two wouldn't survive. I can remember your faces when we pulled out the water cans!"

"Oh yes..." Dario shook his head, chuckling. He gingerly moved his bare feet to a more comfortable spot on the grass. Blisters had been formed all over his two feet, and patches of red skin were peeling off. It hurt to even move. When he went to bathe in the stream, he could distinctly remember stifling his cries of pain when his feet touched the cool water, sending sharp courses of pain up his nerves.

"The blisters hurt," he uttered, wincing.

"Well." Lionel shrugged. "Your skin will harden over time, so you won't get it as often. Sad to say, it won't get any less painful though."

Dario shuddered again as he felt another grating pain. That spot underneath his big toe was the worst. It was so sensitive that any small movement would cause a raw pain in the area. 

"So," Marco said. "We should get to introducing you two to the rifle." 

He grabbed Dario's rifle from his hands and went to a kneeling position. Camilo and Dario leaned forward attentively.

Marco started, "This is a M1 Garand, made in America. Durable and reliable. I will now introduce the parts. Okay?"

"Okay," they responded. 

His hands made pointed gestures, complimenting his words. "So this is the trigger guard, with the trigger of course. This button here? It's very important. It's the safety catch. So what it does is that if it is on, no bullets will fly out no matter how much press the trigger. And then, over here, this is..."

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Dario held the rifle, using his shoulders to hold the butt in place. He looked through the iron sight and aimed it at the bright sky.

So this is how it looks like. Staring down the iron sight.

Slowly, he let his index finger rest on the trigger. With a concerted breath, he pressed it. The rifle made a mechanical clicking sound.

Marco patted him on the back. "Yes. You get it. So that's the process. Remember to always cock it first."

He lowered the rifle. "Thanks, Marco."

Marco nodded. "Lionel, you done with Camilo?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go. We have to meet with Pacho."