A Damned Reunion

Chapter 5

***Warning readers. This next chapter gets a bit violent and bloody. If you don't like it...well why are you reading a story of war anyway??
:P Enjoy. And remember to vote and comment!***

5 months later ~ Miguel

Muffled cries filled the darkened room. Sunlight peaked through the gap at the foot of the door. Miguel clutched his wife to him, fearing flowing through his veins. Footsteps crept closer and the light flickered. They were coming. Miguel glanced around the bleak room; a dozen people huddled together, terror in their eyes. Rosa, Miguel’s daughter, had her hand over another woman’s mouth to smother her sobs. Any sound could give away their hiding place. A worn couch and tattered curtain blocked the doorway but even that wouldn’t stop them. They wanted the refugees. More specifically, they wanted Miguel.
He looked into his wife’s eyes, “Juanita. I love you and no matter what happens I will never let them hurt you or Rosa.” He pressed their foreheads together. He could feel Juanita’s tears on his cheek. Footsteps stopped directly in front of the door, blocking the light. Everyone held their breath. Seconds passed and the shadow moved away. Miguel closed his eyes in relief, they were safe. Now he could focus on getting his family out of this hellish dictatorship and over the border to the land of the free.

Into the safe silence came a loud cry. A scrawny, frightened toddler at the back of the room shuffled in his mother’s hands, his tiny feet slamming into the wall over and over. The woman tried desperately to calm the boy, but it was too late. The shadow returned. Juanita sobbed and women screamed as the door was thrust open. Light blinded Miguel and suddenly men swamped the room, grabbing the hideaways, yanking them to their feet. The child screamed as he was flung over a soldier’s shoulder, while the mother was dragged out by her hair. Rosa struggled, earning herself a stinging slap across the cheek. Miguel reached for her, but was jerked back and thrown out of the room.

Minutes later, all twelve civilians cowered in the centre of the town square. Hulking, menacing Federation soldiers surrounded them on all sides. The women were weeping; the men were staring blackly with despair in their gaze. Rosa glared at the tallest of the soldiers defiantly.
Miguel grabbed her hand, “enough”. He always respected his daughter’s bravery, but here it could get them all killed.
She glared at him, her emerald green eyes bright with anger. “What? You’re just gonna let them do this to us?”

Miguel looked at the ground, “yes.”

She pulled her hand away and raised it at the lead soldier. Miguel flinched. The reply she gave him was obvious, even in sign language. The man smirked. He waved at a soldier, who yanked Rosa’s hair and pushed her to her knees. She shrieked.

“No!” Miguel yelled, rushing forward before being shoved to the ground with the butt of a rife. He was thrust to his knees, hands held high and a semi-automatic aimed at his head.

“Wait.” The leader moved forward, ambling along as if all this was a casual stroll through the park. That made Miguel even more furious. Was this all a joke to them?

Miguel watched as the man advanced, his features coming into focus. Light brown hair and an athletic build. He was young for a commanding officer, no more than thirty years old. Twin scars ran down the right side of his face; one from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his jaw, the other trailed across his lips showing through the dark stubble above his mouth. The man stopped in front of Miguel and that’s when he saw his eyes. A cold bronze, his eyes spoke of suffering and revenge.
Then the man smiled and Miguel saw the cruelty within them.

“And you are?” the man said. His voice was strong and authoritative, with a slight American accent.

Miguel forced himself to stop shaking. “M-M-Miguel”, he mumbled.