RULE OR BE RULED

     She leaned back in the seat, feeling triumphant that none of them had come after her this time. Reaching over, she turned on the radio so the music would fill any voids between conversations. Her eyes shifted from the road for a moment as he spoke of ports, realizing he was trying to leave the country completely. It piqued her curiosity but as she opened her mouth to question him she heard the dismay in his voice. 

     Her questions would have to be pinned for another time. The car started to slow as she spotted the checking up ahead. A curse was mumbled under her breath. That put a wrench in their escape. The last time she attempted to blow through one she ran over a spike stripe and had to fight her way out and find a new ride. 

         “What?” She slowed to a natural speed, watching as Diego climbed into the back. He was hiding? If he was just some parentless kid then it shouldn’t matter if he was spotted. A serpent of unease snaked its way into the bit of her stomach. There was something more but it was too late now. 

     She reached behind her, noting a couple towels and sheets on the back seat. As best she could, Faye took them and tossed them over him to appear as just a pile of laundry on the floorboard. Satisfied that he was concealed she started toward the checkpoint, planning the talk she’d have with her stowaway. 

           “Afternoon,” she greeted the guard that held up a hand to stop her vehicle. “Just heading up the road to visit a friend.” She offered a smile before providing some falsified papers she had made prior to sneaking into the country. The guard barely uttered a word to her before glancing over the paper and giving a quick glance of the inside of the vehicle. He then waved her through, allowing Faye to speed on through. Once far enough away she reached down and pulled one of the sheets off the young man.

           “Care to explain why you had to hide?” She asked before noticing in the rearview mirror one of the guards running from inside one of the structures and pointing at the car. They must’ve noticed it was stolen. “Shit…hang on,” shifting gear again she sped the car up as some of the checkpoint guards hopped into one of their vehicles to pursue them.

Diego did barely dare to breathe. Even just a little. He could hear Faye’s muffled voice and he could feel the vehicle’s vibrations. His nose filled with the smell of those clothes. Old and unwashed. So different from everything that his life consisted of. For a few seconds the unease rose and Diego was convinced his flight-attempt would end here. Again. But… the car moved again. And soon there was a cloth picked from his head.

Ugh. He really didn’t want to explain. He couldn’t. The question made him grimace – though Faye was distracted again the next moment. Peeking over the backseats, Diego dug his fingers into the fabric.

No. No, they couldn’t be coming after them now. Why? Only two options: they had noticed the car was stolen or they had gotten the message to not even let one car leave Esperanza due to Diego having vanished. Head whipping back forward to Faye, Diego leaned in between the passenger's and her seat.

“Uhm… I stole something. I don’t want to go to prison.”

Very good explanation. That made them partners in crime, right? He just hoped that would be good enough for Faye. Pointing to the road ahead, Diego waved to the left.

“There is a smaller dirt road, if you follow it for about 300m, there is another branching off. That’s the best way to lose them – they will always find us on the bigger roads.”

Thomas wouldn’t have let the words leave his lips if he wasn’t prepared for a potential question about it. And he knew in particular how curious children could be. So when the question came, he was prepared for it. Perhaps there was a small part of him that was… envious, almost bitter. About Diego didn’t know how good his life was. How much worse others had it. “He was an mean, old drunk.” The words come out cold. It was the simplest way to explain his father. As if he didn’t deserve something more nuanced than that. “And when he drank a lot, he would get very angry. And when he got angry, he would beat me. For anything that might have gone wrong in his day. For the fact that that we were poor as dirt.”  Thomas could never have imagined a life like the one he was living. “A bruise or two was a good night.” In that moment it was almost like he felt the ache of ghost wounds; memories coming back to haunt. “But there was one day he nearly beat me to death.” He spoke without emotion, as if the event was nothing. As if underneath he didn’t feel hate and loathing for his father. “You’re lucky, Diego. Your father would never hurt you.”

Diego had not thought he would get an answer – and if, not one as detailed as this. But he listened, genuinely and honestly. His eyes solely focused on Mr. Cromwell and there wasn’t shock or any disgust on his face. The boy’s expression was something else… open and clearly showing his full attention being on the other.

It was a stark contrast to how Diego usually acted, avoiding eye contact when it came to war, to killing, to tactics and sacrificing. Because this was different. This was empathy.

“I am sorry.”

It was eye-opening to hear something like this. Not that Diego had been blind to how other children his age had it so much worse – but to hear it from someone personally? And someone like Mr. Cromwell on top of that. A man who seemed like he always had the top hand in everything he was doing. Maybe that background, that poverty and that cruelty had been factors in making him so perfect in what he was doing.

But to even imagine Mr. Cromwell as this poor boy who had been beaten day in and day out? That was hard… and at the same time Diego could easily picture it. And feel for that boy.

     There was hesitation in him, understandable considering she was a complete stranger. He had to be pretty desperate to escape if he was willing to risk running off with her but at leats she’d keep him safe from both sides as long as she could. With his hand in hers, fingers curled around his securely. 

          “Just follow my lead,” she had barely gotten the words out before she was tugging him along behind her. Luckily, the soldiers were coming in from the back, allowing them to head toward the front. She could hear their calls for a Diego. 

     Perhaps a fallen friend. She turned her head to look back at him for a moment before she continued down the steps of the building before beelining it toward a car. At the trunk she released his hand and stormed toward the driver’s side.

           “Go ahead and get in.” she flung open the unlocked door and hopped in, noting how the keys were left in the ignition. It was bizarre how people so willingly left their vehicles like this but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Once Diego had gotten in she cranked up the engine, put it into gear, and sped off, hoping they wouldn’t get a glimpse of her as she drove down the road. 

           “So Pablo, where we heading? Got some friends or something?” She asked, looking over her shoulder to see they hadn’t been followed as far as she could tell. However, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t soon be pulled over.

It was happening. It really was happening.

Diego could almost not believe it. Even as he already sat in the car and looked back, trying to see whether anyone followed them yet. None. That was a success. That was already so much more than half of his attempts to flee had gotten to!

He needed to hide his utter glee from Faye, though. Well veiled behind the disbelief he otherwise felt. She had simply taken him with her. And she had no idea what that entailed. Maybe that old saying really was true: ignorance was bliss. Maybe that would make them lucky…

“Uh… no. Not really outside of Esperanza… but there are ports in the northwest!”, he explained, his voice almost toppling over from excitement.

The havens in the southeast would be of no use to them, they were crawling with soldados. But some of the smaller, fisher-owned havens in the west? A good shot. Looking ahead again, Diego could almost feel his face paling.

Shit.

Just a few more hundred meters and there would be a check point. Maybe they would let Faye through – but him? Never. They’d recognize him. So Diego did the only reasonable thing: trying to climb from the passenger’s seat to the backseat of the car. Trying to hide in the foot-space.

Thomas had used an odd word, but it had been on purpose. It was clear that anything as brutal and bloody as kill wouldn’t go over well. If he could use something that… didn’t sound as bad, perhaps Diego might be able to better wrap his head around it. Consider it as acceptable. As necessary. It seemed that his father was trying to warm Diego up to the idea through physical trials, though it seemed that as of yet that the boy had not actually killed anyone yet. But that day might be coming soon. Or else… Thomas listened to Diego’s response and it wouldn’t take someone as practiced at him at figuring out lies to know how shaky his conviction was. “I know this all sounds so harsh  That it’s too much to put on you…” He frowned, his eyes set on the boy before him. Diego didn’t get to live as a normal boy, with a normal childhood. Life was unfair. “But he just wants to protect you. You are lucky to have a father who loves you. Not everyone does. I didn’t.” There was no lie in what he said; his father… he would have gladly had a father like Antón instead.

There was a moment where Diego felt himself become stubborn at what Mr. Cromwell said. He didn’t want to hear stuff like this. What even did it matter to Mr. Cromwell how his relationship with his father was? How much did he actually know? Surely he couldn’t have all the details… right?

Diego wasn’t sure, but it was evident there was a brief moment where his curious look became a little more defiant. But his tutor dropped a little more information… something personal. Something that had the boy’s attention right away.

‘I didn’t.’?

The young Castillo hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he was even allowed to broach that topic… but why not? This was an opportunity. And if Mr. Cromwell liked to learn so much about everyone else… he had now lowered his veils enough to allow Diego to ask prodding questions.

     His smile was reassuring and as far as she could tell it was fairly genuine. If he enjoyed her poor attempts at jokes then he’d get along with her extremely well. The ice was broken and it appeared as if some of the tension left him. There had been a brief moment where she thought about just leaving, letting him hide or go about his business. But that was quickly dismissed with the reminder of the fighters slowly making the way to the building. 

     Her brows pinched slightly when he mentioned he didn’t really have a home; her gaze glancing over the crisp uniform he worn. His error was quickly realized and she had to give him props at how quickly he shot out another excuse. Had it been the truth he would’ve worded it differently. 

     Faye slowly glanced back up, brown and blue hues peering deep into his as if seeking the truth. It was only for a moment before she straightened up, nodding to herself. Her decision had been made. 

     He was lying to her. At least the first bit. But she could see a longing for escape below the surface. It was his eyes. They reminded her of when she lived with her cruel father, trying to turn her into something she didn’t want to be. 

          “Shit,” she cursed, looking of her shoulder at the fallen men behind her. Well, if Pablo wanted to leave then now was their chance. Holding out her hand, she gave him the option to take it or remain.

          “Take my hand if you want to live,” she spoke in her best Schwarzenegger voice, grinning from ear to ear despite the impending death. “Well, not really. You’ll be ok whether you take it or not. But if you’re serious, I’ll get you some place safe.” A side mission wouldn’t hurt her.

Well.

This was going better than Diego had expected. And yet he still felt undeniable hesitancy at her words and the way she behaved. Would she even be able to survive it all? Well, she had survived so far… sadly jokes wouldn’t help against bullets.

But if this was actually this one chance he had waited for for so long? His own attempts had always failed. His Papá had always caught him again, sooner or later. He had barely made it out of Esperanza. So… this might as well be his best shot.

Swallowing down his doubts, Diego finally laid the books he had come here for onto one of the tables, before taking Faye’s hand, unsure whether this was like a handshake on some contract or if she would pull him through one of the open windows in the next moment.

Whatever her plan was, she needed to be quick, because the soldados probably were already swarming towards the library realizing the hole in their security. And with Diego being here, they probably were more than just motivated to secure the place.

Perhaps it seem callous of him to talk about things this way. Though, people talked of world history without emotion. How many people had died in the World Wars? And this, what was occurring now, this uprising, was history. But it was different, wasn’t it? When it was your own country. But if Diego were to become president, he would be in charge of an army. People he would need to be able to send to their likely deaths without a second thought. “Just one,” he confirmed. He knew it almost sounded unbelievable. But Thomas knew how much a single person can do. How effective they could be. The right person… could be greater than an entire base of soldiers.  It was like a story. The hero who could overcome everything… though in this case, it was someone against them. A pity, truly. It sounded like they could have been a great asset to the president. There was only oh so much combat training you could do, so much weapons and armour you could give to a soldier… but how there were some things that just couldn’t be taught. How willpower was not something you could simply teach in school. It is part of the difficulty with these lessons with Diego. Life was the greatest teacher of all.  “No,” he replied simply, but Thomas seemed to show no anger or annoyance at this fact. A lesson was neutral. “They were not caught.” But who knows if they will be so lucky next time? “But can you manage someone like that? Someone who would kill so people without a second thought? A person who would kill you and your papá without even blinking an eye.”

Diego’s first reaction had been slight amazement at someone who was able to do all this by themselves. Just one person infiltrating and nearly taking over a base. That sounded like it came from the children’s cartoons or books he had enjoyed watching and reading. One hero, who could do it all and even escape if it was necessary.

But this wasn’t some story. This was reality.

And Mr. Cromwell was quick to make that clear. This person was dangerous. Papá would call them a terrorist. Like all of Libertad. And it was true… they would not hesitate to kill his Papá and himself.

“Manage?”, Diego repeated again, scrunching his nose a little at that. What was that supposed to mean? Whether he was able to handle and face someone like that? Stop them?

“Of course...”, he continued, though mostly because he knew that this was the expected answer of him. He had never been in such a situation before, so how should he know? But… if he imagined…

As sick as everything around the Castillos and this scene is. 

All Thomas gave was a simple smile in response to the statement. His actions and results would speak for themselves. He was confident in himself, though that didn’t necessarily extend to arrogance. Though many of the people he worked like to think that he would give them perfection. He does not guarantee success. As if any man could. But Thomas was no trickster; he knew well enough only death would come from that. Thomas would indeed work his hardest for them. Which he hoped would be enough. Might this be his last job? Thomas always knew the risk of that being a possibility… He let his gaze drift to the window as he watched the buildings pass by, until finally there were few structures out all, going to the outskirts of the capital. The lucky who got to live in the city… and the less lucky who didn’t. But Thomas hoped with helping the president, and the success of Viviro, that all of Yara would see prosperity. Even if it meant a hard road to get there… a bloody one. As if revolutionaries were peaceful. How many soldiers were killed by guerrillas every day? And they pretend they were completely virtuous. There is no one moral in a civil war. He got out of the vehicle, standing beside, but slightly behind the president as he spoke. There was no smiling now; he looked serious, but calm. He remained perfectly still and silent. He imagined he was simply here to witness the consequences of his actions (more or less). To see the faces of the men that he had decided to sentence the death. Though, at least he had given them a chance to save themselves. He imagined the president would simply have killed them all by firing squad, or worse. But Thomas had given them an opportunity to redeem themselves. And perhaps some indeed might make it out alive.  He listened to every word that the president spoke, but his eyes were on the faces of soldiers, whose fear was clear in the eyes. They knew all too well how badly they had fucked up. And what that meant for them.  What he doesn’t expect is that eventually Antón turned over the speech to him. Being forced to participate in this plan. To symbolically bloody his hands, as it were. “Thank you, El Presidente,” he thanked graciously, as if it was a gift to speak on this occasion. He took only a single glance with a subtle smile  over to the president, which was gone so quickly it seemed like a trick of the light. Then, he took a few steps forward, close to the soldiers, his focus solely on them.  “Do you know what breaks my heart more than anything?” He asked, placing his hand over his heart. “Wasted potential. And in all of you, I see strong, brave soldiers whose hearts are full of loyalty and honour for your country and your president.” He came closer, right up to the first soldier in the row. “In your eyes, I know that you were all made for something greater. It is you who were made to begin this revolution.” A pause, as he looked between all of them. “Yes, you heard me correctly! The revolution against these false Yarans who kill your brothers and sisters and poison the minds of the people of your great country against your president.” He began to walk past all of them, looking each of them in the eyes. Then, he stopped at the last one, putting his hand on the soldier’s shoulder and squeezing it warmly. Like a proud father. “Your president, with all of his wisdom, has chosen all of you for a special mission to destroy Libertad. To make you heroes. Please, thank your president for this grand honour.” And with that, Thomas turned back towards the president and began to clap. And so did the soldier next to him, and by virtue of psychology alone, the rest began to do so as well, until the sound was loud and thunderous. In their they were inspired and emboldened, and grateful for the mercy. Thankful to their president. Thomas looked to Antón, but nothing could be deciphered in the mysterious, sly gaze that he possessed. No more could be seen other than the look of a man waiting for his next order.

Another trial that seemed to be more of an easy game in the afternoon for Cromwell. He didn’t just speak to the soldados, he spoke to their soul. He moved them and they followed him. Away from their fear and into being inspired and eager to prove themselves.

Antón just stood there and gave a slight nod at the applause that was brought to him. He had been applauded thousands of times. And he had had his life threatened equally often. Emotions overflowing like this from other people did not stir anything in the President any more. Only that nod, like a benevolent father.

His gaze only rested on Cromwell in the end for a moment. But he couldn’t read the man, not really. A peculiar situation. Most people were simple, wore their emotions so clearly on their face, gave away all their motivations, dreams and fears with a simple expression. Not Cromwell, though. And Antón liked that circumstance. Maybe this contract would truly hold on for longer than he had expected. Maybe Cromwell could help him secure the power again in a country that was rattled by ghosts of past revolutions.

That Thomas had used this word had not escaped Antón’s attention. He did not like it entirely, but maybe it could be useful to use that definition against Libertad and all those wishing for a new ‘revolution’, disarm them and turn it around… it was a risky move, though.

One that he would keep in the back of his mind.

Raising a hand for half a wave, before Antón turned away. He would only have a few brief orders and then leave it to the teniente to clue the soldiers in on the mission that laid ahead for them.

Only hos own guards – and Mr. Cromwell would be allowed to follow him. He could have left right away again, but the President did not. Instead he walked across the compound as if he wanted to make up for the ‘missed’ opportunity of a tour Cromwell had opted out on. His goal being one of the halls that were filled with stacked wooden crates.

Flipping one of the lids open, Antón smiled.

“Ah. That is what Yara brings into the world...”

The crate was filled with straw to protect the smaller boxes containing tobacco cigars.

Opening the next crate beside that, the view was similar. Only this time the box was filled with bottles of the Marquessa’s rum.

“Enjoyment. Luxury. Opportunities to forget about the harsher days of life. Creating better ones.”

And a third crate was opened – but this time there was neither cigar nor rum in it. The box wasn’t even made of wood, but of metal. And inside were smaller ones. Protecting a much more valuable content: Viviro.

“… and the time needed to be able to enjoy these days.”

Castillo’s tone changed at that and his fingers travelled along the edge of one of the white boxes for a moment. He himself knew what value time had, better than most. Looking to Cromwell, there was a strange mixture of seriousness and amusement on Antón’s face.