Freedom Fighters

47. Battleground

As Dario neared the entrance of the port, he could see, through his windscreen, in the distance, the brightly lit gate, manned by a detail of guards. Past the checkpoint was the Havana Harbour, where Juanita's contact waited to pick the fugitives up. 

He felt his lover's gentle hand on his shoulder. "Stay calm, Dario. Don't appear nervous."

He nodded, breathing in and out slowly. The lives of Rodrigo Casillas and his family depended on him. They sat, quiet as the night, in the back of the truck, surrounded by crates of nothing. He stopped in front of the closed gate and a guard strode over, rifle slung around his shoulders. 

Rolling down his side window, Dario leaned out and his eyes met the guard's. It took a moment, but the guard's eyes lit up in recognition. He immediately snapped up his posture and saluted. 

"General!"

The other guards manning the checkpoint saw him as well and stopped their idle talk.

"At ease, Sergeant." Dario said, keeping a relaxed demeanour. "Open the gate, I need to go in and check on a weapons shipment."

"Yes Sir," the guard responded. Not questioning the order, he rushed over to unlock the gate and pull both sides of it open. 

Dario stepped on the accelerator and drove through. Following Juanita's instructions, he navigated through rows of containers and narrow lanes.  He passed by a group of men unloading crates off the back of a small ship using a crane. Many parts of the harbour were still active this late into the night.

No doubt, he knew, there were some others seeking to escape the island out of fear of political reprisal. 

They stopped by a dark corner of the harbour where a fleet of yachts were anchored together. On the jetty, a dark figure, with a muscular build, stood underneath a dim lamp post, arms crossed over his chest. Juanita got out of the van and approached the stranger. She muttered some words, and Dario, from the driver's seat, could see the figure nodding. 

Juanita turned around and signaled to Dario with a wave of her hands. He then got out as well and walked to the back of the van to lift the back door open.

"It's alright now," Dario said as the faces of Rodrigo and his family came into view. 

Rodrigo's previously tense features melted down into that of a mixture of gratitude and relief. His wife, a petite woman by the name of Jimena, carried their six-year-old child within a bundle of cloths. The little girl's chest rose and fell in rhythm with his tranquil breathing, deep asleep. 

"Once you are both ready, approach the man over there on the jetty," Juanita said as she paced over." He will take you on board his yacht and smuggle you out of the country into Florida. As soon as you get there, be sure to request for political asylum."

"Thank you," Jimena spoke, her voice shaky. "Thank you so much. Both of you. I don't know what would have happened without-"

"It's fine," Juanita stopped her mid sentence. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting your new life in order, okay?"

Clutching her child to her chest, Jimena inclined her head. She turned her eyes to Dario's as well, and in a brief moment, her tears showed all the gratitude she held in her heart for them. Just from that, Dario knew that he had done the right thing. 

He felt Rodrigo clasp his shoulders. The ex-Major, with a smile on his face, said, "I owe my life, my family's lives, to you and Juanita, Dario."

He took one last look at the country which he called home, but would not be so any longer. The moonlight reflecting off the surface of the ocean waters and the sides of the ships made for a serene picture.