When I awake a few hours later, the nausea is gone, and I feel somewhat refreshed. The surreal light of dusk crawls through the cracked curtain, together with a light breeze. I try to loosen Felipe's embrace, but he stirs, his arms tightening even more around my midsection.

"Feeling better?" His voice is thick from sleep.

"Much better." I've even got some of my appetite back.

Peeling himself out of the blankets, Felipe traces feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His warm breath, tickling on my skin, gets my heart to skip a couple of beats, but when he fumbles with the button of my shirt, I go rigid.

"Don't, Felipe."

That only draws out a husky chuckle, his thumb popping open the next button.

I fight harder to wiggle out from under him, but his body shifts to hold me down. His lips sealing my mouth drowns out a new protest. His hand finds its way under my shirt. When he strokes my breast, I almost die.

"No, Felipe. Stop."

"Come on, Stacy. You know you want this." He grinds against my crotch.

I gulp. "No, I mean it. Stop!"

He finally sits up on my hips. With the sweetest smile, he gazes down on me. "Is there something I should know?" He cocks his head. "You're not really a guy, are you?"

My laugh is awkward. "No." I can't hold his heated gaze. "It's just—I don't believe in premarital sex."

"Seriously?"

Nodding, I chew my lip.

"Don't you think that's something you should've mentioned during one of our Skype calls?"

I frown. How can he expect us to discuss something that private through a computer screen? Even now, the topic is more than embarrassing. "Sorry, I didn't think it mattered . . ."

He sighs. "I guess it shouldn't matter."

"So is it okay? If we wait, I mean."

"I guess."

"Besides"—my gaze falls on Raine's bed—"the other girls will probably be back soon."

"Yeah." He slides out of the bed with a low huff.

I pull the blanket closer around me, unsure if I should get up. Judging from the deep wrinkle on his forehead, he's mad. The few statistics I read hinted that most couples don't wait to be married to have sex, and he probably expected more. Maybe I should have mentioned it during one of our conversations. Now, it might lead to an argument.

A knock is a welcome distraction. "Yo, Felipe," Tomás says from behind the door. "Miguel is looking for you."

"I'll be right there." When he pecks my cheek, the sweet smile has returned, though it looks a little fake. "Sorry, duty calls. Can't keep the boss waiting."

The door closes behind him, leaving a stale aftertaste behind in my mouth. I'm feeling sick again. Nuzzling my face into the pillow, I can only hope that my refusal to get intimate with Felipe won't spoil our whole relationship.

By the time Felipe returns, his mood has turned for the worse. Without even glancing at me, he begins to rummage through his backpack. His lips are reduced to a thin line. Only mumbled words in Spanish that couldn't mean anything nice make it through.

"What's wrong?" The blanket can't shield me from the sudden chill in the air.

He tosses me a dark look. "I have to go."

"Go where?"

When he doesn't respond straight away, an uneasy feeling prickles the back of my neck. He wants to break up with me and is probably going to send me home.

"We have some problems with the rebels." He straps a halter with a gun under his arm. "They kidnapped one of Miguel's men and we have to go into the mountains to rescue him."

It's the first time it dawns on me that he's a soldier like everyone else. "How long will you be gone?" The thought doesn't sit well with me. What am I supposed to do while he's away?

"Just a few days." He nods goodbye. "Raine and Bettina will keep you company."

My smile is forced; I hardly even know them. "Be careful."

"Sure thing." There's a sudden distance in his eyes, his mind miles away.

With that, he leaves me behind in the dark, and I can't help wondering if this is the way it would be if we ever got married.

~~~~

Worrying about Felipe in battle keeps me awake; at some point, the nausea gets a firm grip on me again and I vomit. A terrible headache keeps me up for the rest of the night and I'm tired and drained when morning arrives. My mood is accordingly grouchy. Raine and Bettina drag me to the mess hall for breakfast even though I would rather stay in bed; when Raine asks whether everything is okay, it takes all my effort not to snap at her.

"I might need to see the doctor. I think I'm coming down with an infection."

"Drink plenty of water, and if you don't feel better, tell Miguel. He can hook you up with a doctor at the compound." Raine shoves a big piece of French toast into her mouth, the sight and smell alone making my stomach queasy.

My brows furrow. "Isn't Miguel in the mountains with the others?"

"No, I saw him this morning." Raine washes her toast down with a big gulp of orange juice. "He's responsible for funding and rarely gets involved in actual battle."

I nibble on my dry toast. Hopefully, Felipe is all right.

Raine scoops the syrup up with her fork as best as she can. "So I was thinking, we could go on patrol with Juana. It's always a nice change of scenery, and you get to go to town."

I would love to explore the capital some more, maybe even get a little bit of shopping done. "Can we go to the market?"

They both stare at me with horror. "We don't do that. As a woman, you're not supposed to be in the city without an escort unless you're part of a patrol. It's too dangerous. The rebels could strike at any moment."

That sounds even more dangerous than I thought. "How does this all work exactly—with women and the army, I mean?"

Raine sets her fork down, her full attention on me. "So women aren't allowed to join the military, we are here to support the soldiers. The only exception is the patrol force, we call them Orden Público, and the few girls who get to go are chosen by Miguel. They have to complete basic training before they accompany the soldiers into the city to make sure everyone plays by the rules. Juana is in charge and it's a huge honor to be part of that. Sometimes, she allows us to ride along and it's always a blast."

Being part of a patrol sounds exciting; it's like a sneak peek into military life. At the end of breakfast, Bettina and Raine usher me over to the training center, where Miguel's dinner date from the other night barks at young soldiers who start to climb into a few open-sided trucks. Though I still find her incredibly intimidating, a certain admiration takes over. The determination in her eyes doesn't leave any doubt that she won't back down for anyone.

Bettina engages with her in a quick Spanish conversation, and I'm inspected from top to bottom again before being offered a seat in the truck. Bettina and Raine climb into the back and I heave myself up with some effort, conscious that I look clumsy. The hard benches are already filled with soldiers and I barely find a free space where I can squeeze in.

When my scalp prickles as if someone is staring, I turn around. Miguel has appeared out of nowhere and gazes at me with a small smile. One of his arms rests on Juana's shoulders. He pulls her closer without breaking eye contact, gently kissing the tip of her nose. Only her giggle finally forces him to pay attention to her. With her head tilted back, she tells him something that makes him laugh. His gaze returns to me even as he nuzzles her neck, and his eyes stay on me until I look down at my feet. Their open display of intimacy leaves me with unease. It's not something I'm used to, and those types of moments shouldn't be shared in public, no matter what.

"Is Juana Miguel's wife?" I ask.

"Nope." Bettina digs her fingernail between her teeth; it looks a little disgusting. "They've dated for a few years but haven't tied the knot. Rumor is that there'll be a spring wedding, but I doubt it. Juana got shot in the stomach a few years ago and can't have children, and I know that the president wants Miguel to marry someone who can give him grandkids."

My gaze flicks to them a few times. They are totally absorbed with each other until Juana wiggles out of Miguel's embrace. He smacks her on the butt as she strolls over and joins us in the back of the truck. Her face is glowing. She appears very much in love with him.

With her palm, she hits the side of the driver's cabin. "Vámonos."

The trucks sway forward and soon we are on the road toward the capital. The day is overcast, the sun hiding behind a thin layer of clouds, with the humidity pressing down on us. My shirt sticks to my back within minutes. Every time I inhale deeply, the warm air mixed with the truck's exhaust fumes stings my lungs.

Raine has her face turned toward the sky with her eyes closed, dozing, while Bettina is engaged in a low conversation with Juana. The two seem very close. I feel left out, almost like an intruder. In a way, I would like to get to know them, but I'm afraid I might not meet their expectations. Making new friends has always been one of my challenges. When it comes down to it, it has always just been Emily. The only time where I found it easier was online; people tend to be less judgmental when they can't see me.

The drive to the capital doesn't take long. Its streets are buzzing with life. Women huddle in small groups, often accompanied by a few men or soldiers with rifles, and kids play soccer in the streets. The atmosphere is light, though most smiles fade as our trucks drive by. Sudden anxiousness is palpable in the air and reawakens my uneasiness.

The trucks stop in the middle of town and the soldiers jump out. After Juana shouts harsh words in Spanish, everyone disperses. She signals us to follow her. I plod behind Bettina and Raine, our small group accompanied by a handful of soldiers, though Juana is already armed to her teeth.

A lot of the houses and shops are in bad shape with paint and plaster crumbling off the walls and a few roofs caved in. Yet the worst part is the smell. Something must be wrong with the sewage; it stinks like human waste.

Most of the children appear malnourished, and I remember what Felipe said about the limited food going around. I totally understand how he can be bitter about the embargoes; no human should live this way. It's horrifying.

For the most part, Juana is checking pedestrians' paperwork, but she also shoos a few children away whose parents can't be immediately located. I quickly grow bored.

"What is she checking?" I ask Bettina.

"It's an identity form to prove they aren't known rebels. Makes it harder for those bastards to hide in the city."

"Has the fighting been going on for a long time?"

"It has been years. The rebels are supported by foreign governments, especially the Americans, who provide them with supplies and weapons, so it's hard for our troops to gain on them."

"But why don't the rebels try to bring about a peaceful resolution? They could run against the current president in the next election."

Raine snorts. Her face is laced with a certain superiority, as if she has it all figured out. "That's not how it works here. There are no elections."

"Then how does the government know what the people want?"

"Democracy is highly overrated." Clicking her tongue, Raine tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "I grew up in Britain, which is allegedly one of the greatest countries in the world, but what did the queen and Parliament ever do for me? They constantly cut back on public programs while the aristocracy lives in wealth. It's a disgrace, if you ask me."

I'm about to remind her that the Malaguian president and his family live in a big mansion when Bettina jumps in. "Same with me. I wasn't going anywhere in Germany, couldn't even find an apprenticeship because I only graduated from a lower-level school. At least here, I have a man who loves me and will take care of me. Works perfectly fine for me."

Raine's lips purse in agreement; they are so set in their beliefs that any reasoning is pointless. Since I don't want them to gang up on me, I decide to drop it. Disparity between the rich and the poor exists in every country; my old geography teacher said it was a way of life. Arguing about it is a waste of time.

The longer I stand in the street, the more the humidity wears me down. I sip from my water bottle almost nonstop. By the time we get to the trucks, I'm exhausted. A nap back at the compound should get me to lunchtime.

The others are already waiting for us, but there's also a boy and a girl who have been lined up in front of one of the trucks. The girl is sobbing, yet the boy stares at us with a stubborn frown. They are both a little younger than me, maybe sixteen or seventeen.

One of the soldiers briefs Juana in Spanish. She keeps glaring at the couple with narrow eyes.

"Oh dear," Bettina whispers. "They were caught making out in one of the warehouses. They are still minors and have no permission slip from their parents to walk around. They are in a lot of trouble."

Juana yells Spanish words at them, causing the girl to wail and fall on her knees while the boy is pulled away by the soldiers and heaved onto the back of the closest truck.

"What's happening?" I ask Bettina.

"The boyfriend has been arrested and will be charged with rape. Juana will give the girl a whipping—that is the usual punishment for this type of behavior."

"Just like that? Won't there be a trial?"

"They don't have that here. The law is clear, and so is the punishment. Soldiers just enforce what President Rizo and his advisors decide."

So much for being innocent until proven guilty. The soldiers pick up the girl and drag her to the side of the square, bending her over the hood of a rusty old car whose interior has been totally destroyed by fire. Juana unbuckles her nightstick, approaching slowly, before coming to a halt right behind the girl. The few pedestrians in the area soon surround the group, their facial expressions flat. I can't tell if this is a common occurrence or not.

When I gaze at the boy on the truck, a lump builds in my throat. He's paler than a ghost and is struggling against the grip of the soldiers.

"No, Maria," he shouts."Déjala en paz!"

Juana raises her arm. As the nightstick hits the girl hard on her back, a loud scream ricochets through the square. I squeeze my eyes shut and cup my hands over my ears. As Juana carries on with the punishment, my mind is unable to soak up the full brutality of the action. The torture continues and the screams get louder and louder, breaking through my defenses. Tears prick my eyes and I lower my head; I don't want the others to see how much this whole incident disturbs me.

The silence that follows is only interrupted by heavy sobs. When I dare to open my eyes, everyone in the square has surrounded the burned-out car. I meet glares filled with a mixture of anger and resentment. The boy is doubled over, blood spilling from a big gash on his forehead. My heart goes out to him. He must be scared out of his mind.

Juana turns on her heel and storms back to the trucks. "Vámonos."

Everyone in the vicinity obeys her command in a heartbeat. Even I, with my limited Spanish, know that she's ready to leave. When I struggle to get in, Raine pushes me up onto the truck. I slump into my seat to avoid Juana's stare. As the trucks roll out, a few of the villagers help the girl to her feet and hug her in comfort.

"I'm sorry you had to see this." Juana's English is slightly accented. "We have laws for a reason, but I can imagine that this is hard for an outsider to comprehend."

"I'm not sure why you had to beat her like that. What she did wasn't that bad."

Juana glares at the boy, who is crouched on the floor with a desperation on his face that chills my insides.

"Believe it or not, I might have saved their lives today, and that of others. The rebels snatch girls like her off the streets and sell them to neighboring countries for prostitution. Her public punishment will serve as a reminder of what is at stake and will deter others. Since we are in a constant state of war, we can't afford second chances."

I nod, though I'm still not convinced. Her face doesn't reflect the slightest hint of remorse, only indifference. She doesn't talk to me after that, not even glancing once in my direction when we return to the compound. The boy is shoved toward a building in the back; he has stopped fighting and plods along with slumped shoulders. What will happen to him?

"How about some lunch?" Bettina suggests and Raine nods with enthusiasm.

I have lost all appetite but tag along, not sure what else to do. The mess hall is packed and filled with excited voices. For a while, I watch the comings and goings from my seat in the corner, my non-appetite replaced by nausea. When Juana joins other soldiers at a table, my stomach tightens even more. They soon laugh, shoveling food into their mouth in between their vivid conversation. For them, this is just a normal day while I can't get the girl's screams out of my head.

A sudden ache for my mom and dad rears up without warning; I long for my ordinary life in Indiana. Compared to the struggles of the people in Malaguay, it seems so carefree. How could I've ever gotten upset about my parents' nagging when others are faced with death and starvation on a daily basis?

I guess I simply didn't know, but in hindsight, it seems shallow. Terrible as it was, this day has been a real eye-opener.

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2017

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