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on both their shoulders, like a hero of old surprising the enemy with a wry joke, the slightest touch, as if to say, I could slice your throats open and the smiles would still be on your faces as you fell to the ground, but I prefer to acknowledge you first, let you understand what I am. Above, the fleeing clouds offer protection from the sun, but every few seconds they break, and the light stings her. Maybe that is it -- she has lost her sense of smell, but her visual sensitivity has multiplied tenfold. Slapping her hand over her eyes, she cannot breathe for the choking leftover smoke of the bomb, but she moves forward, knowing without seeing, it is all shadows to her now, her parents gone, the bodies gone, and even as the sun teeters on the horizon she finds herself at the splintered ruins of the archway that leads to a home. It was her home. Holding up her  |
blackened arms and hands, as if to praise or condemn, she pitches forward, utterly drained, and the sun goes dark in the gathering smog. She has fallen on her side, and looks up to see the front gates, flaming cinders swarming around it like fireflies. *** The two blond hikers have only been in the high country for two days, and they are utterly lost. They have heard all the stories -- beware bandits in the hills, be sure to travel in packs, go during the dry season, remember to carry your compass. He had been reluctant about this excursion, but she had insisted: Come on! You want to spend this entire trip with the tour group?  |
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