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A cool breeze plays with Maria's hair as she waits for the lynch mob. Standing on the terrace of her house, situated on what the locals call Forbidden Hills, her gaze rests on the far-away mountains. Their tips are still bathed in the crimson red of the setting sun, but the dark shadows of nightfall are creeping closer. In a couple of weeks, snow will cover those mountaintops. By then, she will be long dead.

A small hand pulls at her sweater. "Mamá, I'm scared."

With a fond smile, she tousles the hair of her five-year-old son. "Don't be, Mateo. It will be over soon."

"Will they hurt us?"

For a second, her gaze flicks to Tomás. He's absorbed in pushing his little horse across the floor, the clicking sounds of his tongue mimicking hooves as they hit the wood. "No one will hurt you. Or your brother."

She speaks through rising tears. How can she be sure? In times of war, promises are for fools.

The door opens and closes again with a low thud. Yolanda is even paler than usual as she steps onto the terrace. Just a little over six months ago, in this very spot, Maria had braided her daughter's hair for her wedding. As was customary among the leading families of Malaguay, the marriage was arranged, but Maria could feel Yolanda's deep love for her future husband. They didn't take long to start their own family. Even though the baby bump isn't visible under Yolanda's loose-fitting blouse, Maria knows it's there. When she first learned the news, she was beyond excited; now, she will never get to hold her grandchild. Their whole future went up in flames in a matter of hours.

With the same fond smile she gave Mateo, Maria tucks a few strands of her daughter's long hair behind her ear. "It's time, Yolanda. Take your brothers to the orphanage."

Tears glisten in Yolanda's eyes. "What if there isn't any space for them? I mean, I'm supposed to keep them."

"I know. This might be the tradition, but no one expects a nineteen-year-old pregnant girl to care for her siblings. Don't worry. Pearson won't turn you away. Your brothers will be safe with him." Maria kisses her daughter on the forehead the way her own mother used to do when she wanted her to be strong.

There is no other solution. If the boys are caught with their parents, chances are they'll be executed alongside them.

Tears roll down Mateo's face as Maria pulls him into a tight hug. "You be a good boy now, you hear. And promise me you'll take care of your brother."

"I promise." Mateo sobs through heavy breaths. His short arms squeeze as hard as they can. "Te quiero, Mamá."

All Maria can do is nod, her voice choked by unshed tears.

Tomás is oblivious to what is happening, his brows furrowing as he gazes at his brother's tear-stricken face.

"Come here, cariño." Maria stretches out her arms and Tomás runs into the hug. His mother's tears spill into his thick curls. She soaks up his scent for the very last time.

"Te quiero, Tomás."

"Me, too."

Deep blue eyes cut into her soul and her heart soars. He's her perfect little boy—her angel.

With the most innocent smile, he holds up his horse. "For you, Mamá."

"But don't you want to keep it?"

He shakes his head, holding the horse in his tiny hand. With a smile, she takes the small toy and pulls him into another hug. "Thank you, cariño." The lump in her throat chokes her breath; she's unable to let go until Yolanda pulls him away.

The tears in her children's eyes are the last thing Maria sees before the door closes behind them.

~~~~

They come for her just as the last beams of sunshine kiss the earth. When the door is kicked down, Maria contemplates hiding in the garden, but that will just prolong the inevitable. Chin held up high, she walks into the foyer to face the enemy. Santino Rizo glares at her without even the slightest hint of compassion.

"Where's your husband?"

"Rafael is in the study."

A soldier grabs Maria's arm and pulls her out of the house. When her wrist is wrenched back, the small toy horse she's still clutching in her hand almost slips through her fingers. Handcuffs click. Standing in front of an open Jeep, she waits while the soldiers ransack her home. Wood screeches as furniture breaks. Rumbles shake the house. Finally, Rafael is dragged out the front door, his face covered in blood.

A whiff of gasoline hangs heavy in the evening air and the house goes up in flames. Baby photos, books passed down through generations, souvenirs from family trips, destroyed by the roaring blaze. Not that it matters. After tonight, the name Araya will be erased from Malaguay's history books; Maria's children will be her only legacy. If they survive.

Pablo, her own cousin, yanks her arm. No surprise to see him among Santino's men. They've fought on opposite sides of the war for as long as she can remember; he wouldn't miss this chance to watch her go down.

"Vámonos." Santino's voice is sharp and carries over the uproar of rumbling voices and raging flames. One word, and he already radiates the aura of a dictator. Without a doubt, he won't allow his opponents to live. How will he dispose of them? A public circus to send a message of caution about the fate of traitors, or a quiet shot of mercy in front of their burning home. Maria hopes for the latter.

When she and Rafael are loaded into the Jeep, her heart sinks. The execution will be public and messy. Tightening her fingers around the horse until the hooves cut her skin, Maria tries desperately to keep the tears at bay. She will not give Santino the satisfaction of showing even the slightest weakness. She owes that to her family name. Feeling eyes upon her, she turns her head and meets her husband's gaze. His face reflects the same determination as her heart, his encouraging smile giving her strength. He doesn't fear death and neither should she.

They had been in love for so many years. Maria can't even pinpoint the day that changed. Or why it changed. She's only certain that it wasn't his fault. Until his last breath, he will have been a worthy man, a good husband and father, the best ruler the country has ever had. She is the one who screwed it all up.

Speeding through the night, her thoughts drift to her children. God willing, Yolanda has reached the orphanage by now. Since Pearson owes her for all the money and support she has given him over the years, she is certain he won't turn her daughter away. Hell, she practically built that place with him from the ground up after too many children were left orphaned during the constant fighting. Ironic that tonight, her sons will be among them.

By the time they reach the city, silence has fallen over the capital. Burned-out cars, shot-up windows, and still bodies of civilians and soldiers line the path to the church in the center of town. When the Jeep pulls up, the square is already surrounded by spectators. Maria and Rafael are ordered to get out at gunpoint. When her feet touch the ground, her knees almost buckle. Straightening, with her chin held high, she stumbles behind her husband along the wall of waiting soldiers.

Rafael is pulled up the five steps onto the makeshift stage and forced onto his knees. The crowd boos. Tonight, the people of Malaguay will lose one of their own. Tears well up in Maria's eyes as Santino raises the gun and rests the barrel against the back of Rafael's head.

"Rafael Araya, you have been convicted of treason."

The booing grows louder.

"Therefore, you are no longer fit to rule this country."

One of the spectators lunges forward and gets shushed with the shaft of a rifle. Deadly silence falls over the crowd.

"Rafael Araya, I hereby sentence you to death."

Without even the slightest hesitation, Santino pulls the trigger. Blood spills from Rafael's forehead, covering the first row of spectators with red rain. His body slams forward. The stage groans under his weight.

Without even bothering to clear the space of her dead husband, Maria is pulled onto the stage. Despite her determination to keep her composure, the tears begin to roll. She is forced onto her knees. Gun drawn, her cousin Pablo walks up.

Please, Father, protect my sons.

The barrel of the gun comes to rest on the back of her head.

Let them grow up happy and healthy, and turn them into men to be proud of.

Her grip tightens around Tomás's horse.

Te quiero, cariño.

Her world explodes in a loud bang. Then there's nothing.

~~~~~

© Sal Mason 2018

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