Freedom Fighters

46. Desperation

Rodrigo Casillas removed his hood, revealing his disheveled hair. It was apparent he had not shaved for a long time, as his once wispy moustache had grown into an untrimmed beard. His expression was hollow, like a man who had grown used to desperation. 

"I need help, Dario," he said dryly.

Seeing Rodrigo's ragged appearance, Dario felt a pang of heartache. He considered the man his friend, even though they had fought on different sides during the war. 

 He gestured to the adjacent couch. "Take a seat, Rodrigo."

The former Major sat down, and Juanita emerged from behind the couch to sit beside Dario. She maintained an apprehensive curiosity, eyeing the intruder. 

"How did you two meet?" she questioned. 

Dario answered the question, realising the two had not met before.

"Juanita, this is Rodrigo Casillas. We met on the battlefield and somehow became friends. He was also the officer at the Santa Clara garrison that surrendered to me. Rodrigo, this is my girlfriend, Juanita Castro."

"Castro?" an involuntary utterance escaped Rodrigo's lips.

"Yes, Castro," Dario said. "She is sister to Fidel and Raúl Castro."

Rodrigo snorted. He gritted his teeth, and his dark eyes turned hostile in an instant. "Yes, the Castro brothers. The ones who turned my life into a living hell." Venom was dripping out of every word. 

Surprisingly to Dario, Juanita maintained a straight face, not reacting to his statement. Not desiring any possible hostility, he asked Rodrigo, "What do you mean by living hell?"

"What do I mean?" The words contained a controlled rage. "Raúl Castro is seeking to eliminate anyone who has ties to the old regime! Most of my friends, those who had not managed to flee the country, have been imprisoned and shot at the La Cabana prison. Those men who work under Raúl are trying to find me and my family. My wife has familial ties with one of the ministers under Batista, and I was a Major in his army. I fear for my life and my family's safety! Can one live like this? In constant fear?"

"They are looking for you?"

"Yes, Dario! My house has been ransacked, and is still under watch. They have been asking my neighbours questions. If not for me hiding my wife and child in a friend's house, I may not have been alive to meet you today."

Tears started to form in Rodrigo's eye before he broke into a contortion of desperation. He raked his hands through his rumpled hair, and pleaded. "Dario, you are my last hope. I need to leave this country. I need to!"

His arms then shot out to clutch Dario's. His voice became lower and taut with anguish. "Please... I thought that maybe you could help me. If you can't, then no one can! My wife... my child. It can't all end like this! Remember? In Santa Clara, you said that a better Cuba awaits? Out of the ashes of the old one?"

"I do," Dario replied, the words almost choking in his throat as his heart welled with sadness. 

"Is this the better Cuba you envisioned, Dario? Is it? One where men like me have to live in fear of being caught and killed?"

The last two sentences stung, and Dario felt as if his heart had been punctured by those truthful words. The events of the day flashed through his mind at the same time. Raúl's glee at playing judge. Che's apathy as he stared at the line of men waiting to be shot. 

Dario shot a tearful look at Juanita. Her chestnut brown eyes were dimmed, and lips set in a hard line, as if trying to hold back a wave of emotion.