Freedom Fighters

17. Leaders

October 1956
Tuxpan, Mexico

The straw figure stood a hundred metres away. Across Dario's iron sight, it condensed into a small brown ball. As he focused his eyes, the surroundings of the target blurred, fading into the background. He took a deep breath, and steadied his shaky hands. His index finger lay on the trigger, ready. His elbows dug hard into the grass as he tucked in the rifle butt into the hollow of his shoulder. Just like the other four shooters in his detail, he was in a prone position. He remembered the teachings of the Almeidas, and assumed a rigid posture.

His first live shot.

"You have ten shots. Fire!" A voice burst out from behind him.

Dario squeezed the trigger, and a thunderous shot cracked out of his muzzle with a fierce velocity. The recoil, as expected was strong, pushing back against his shoulder with force. But he did not care. His eyes, trained on the target, spotted a flurry of straws fly out, before a white patch of smoke rose from it. A hit.

Smiling, he adjusted his aim once more to account for the recoil, taking another shot. Then another. And another. Till the ten bullets were expanded.

"Detail one, leave the range! Next detail!"

As he relaxed his eyes, the world soon regained its colour. His heart was beating hard in his chest when he got up, turning around to leave the range with rifle in hand.

"Dario!" Camilo called out from behind him, strolling over with his usual charming smile. "Did you hit all of them? Because I did!"

Dario could not help but grin at his friend's excitement. "Yes, of course."

"It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Once you hit that first shot, the rest became easier. And the recoil. Wow, it was powerful!"

The duo chattered on excitedly like two schoolboys as they made their way back to the encampment.

It was business as usual for the revolutionaries of the Movement. Yet, the air buzzed with a lively anticipation. The news that Huber brought back last night spread through the ranks of the Movement like a wildfire, igniting a lost optimism back within them.

Dario could see the optimism back on their faces, and hear it in their conversations. Questions ran through his mind. Just what kind of men the leaders of the Movement were that the mere mentions of their freedoms could elicit such a response?

As Camilo turned towards the direction of their tent, Dario put a hand on his shoulder.

"Erm, Camilo? I'm going to find Juanita."

"Ahhhh..... you cheeky boy..." The sides of Camilo's lips curled into a sly smile.

"Oh, enough, will you?"

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His heart tingled with excitement as he neared the stable. A comrade at the barn had pointed him there when he mentioned her name. The smell of matted horse fur greeted his nostrils as he entered. Juanita was stroking the mane of a brown horse and did not seem to notice his entry. He crept behind her and announced his presence with a kiss on her cheek.

"Dario!" She immediately turned around and threw her arms behind his neck, landing a kiss on his lips. It lasted a few seconds before they broke for air.

"Isn't he majestic?" She resumed tracing the horse's jawline with her hands. "He's the last one left here."

It was then Dario noticed that apart from the one horse, the stable was empty. "What happened to the rest?"