"He is dying, Jose." Magda gazed up at him. Large, forlorn, eyes pleaded him to rescue their child.
His heart stopped - and the world swung about him. He hoped at every turn that it was a cruel joke, but he could see from her face that it wasn't.
"He had a temperature, but it's gone now."
As soon as he'd touched his son's clammy white hand he knew that the life had left his body. He couldn't say anything to her, couldn't even manage to form words of apology. Instead, he heard the overwhelming roar of rage and injustice; that same sound which had deafened him for years. Pain and guilt hitting him in waves, leaving him surprised he didn't drown on the spot.
He'd let his son down. If he hadn't been out trying to fight other people's battles the boy might still be alive.
The regret was too much for Jose to bear.
He wanted to find someone to beg... someone to plead. Take my body instead. Let me be the sacrificial lamb, and let my son return! This couldn't happen to his little boy.
The child had two main emotions: happiness and surprised delight. As Jose marched him through the swamps, his son had treated him like some kind of conquering hero. "Dook!" The boy had exclaimed. Pointing everything out for his Papa. As if he knew that his Daddy lacked innocence and wonder; and that it was his job to help him reclaim it.
Jose wanted to scream, to startle every living beast within earshot. But he saw Magda, lying there in her unkempt bed, with a delirious expression on her face. He wondered how long it had been since she'd had any sleep. To keep her awake any longer could have serious repercussions on her mental state.
"He's ok now," Jose lied. "I've got him. Sleep." Her eyelids had swollen, and black smudges had found their way under her eyes. He wondered for how long she'd been left alone; this nightmare unfolding before her.
Aching - self despising - guilt. He'd not only let his son down, but his wife too. The women had the bravery and strength of an entire army, but he'd left her alone for too long. That independent, fearless, woman was now small and pitiful. Like she'd lost the battle. All she'd needed were more troops... more supplies. But he hadn't come home when she'd needed him.
"Is he?" A smile brushed her lips and her eyelids fluttered down, gratefully. "I'm so glad you're home. I had such a rough time."
Pain sliced through him. He watched as her head tipped forward, resting on her son. One of her wrists left exposed.
He glanced at the wrist, confused at first, as if there was something there that he should pay attention to. But his mind couldn't focus simultaneously on two things. The pain of finding his young son lifeless was blinding him to everything else. But his gaze was drawn back to the tightly wrapped bandage. Even amongst the pain and anguish he felt, everything fell silent once more. He could only focus on the wrist. The trickle of blood that was visible outside of the bandaging.
"Magda? What is this?" He shook her. Suddenly consumed with nervous energy. There was something that wasn't right, unwinding the bandage he found two tiny marks and his gut was filled with a cold dread. He'd never seen a snake bite, but he could imagine how it would look. He couldn't lose them both.
Jose already knew that the pain of his son's passing would haunt him every day of his life. But his wife too? Could there ever be hope for happiness again?
He shook her, slapping her face, trying everything to keep her with him.