Because her hero said so

Short Story  |  Merlin

It had been days now that the little girl witnessed the sunset and the sunrise through the vents of the clandestine rusty train. Her long black curly hair was caressed by her older brother, holding her close every hour of every day.

She had been strapped like a belt to him since he told her their mom was gone for a long trip in a country where bombs did not fall from the sky, where guns where not cheaper than cigarettes at the convenience store. No matter when she asked, he would always say that she was gone far away since thunder hit their house in the countryside.

She still remembered his blue eyes glaring at the rocks falling from everywhere, the roar of the weird metallic eagles flying in the sky. The dust was covering her from top to bottom, even when her war hero was done wiping tears off her face.

The flower at the muzzle of the community followed her brother everywhere, whatever he was hired to do. She would sometimes look at the watch pointer make two full circles before he would walk back to her.

But every night, when she thought she heard him crying in the darkness, he told her he was doing fine and that he would never lie to her; he would rather die than do so. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

And, finally, with stars shining in his eyes, he announced he bought tickets to meet their mother again. They only needed to catch a train, a legendary moving wagon that apparently never stopped.

One night, they fled their uncle that hosted them. She mounted on his shoulders and felt the fresh wind full of gunfire smoke swiftly draw peace signs in her hair.

Hundreds in the wagons were drawing hands for the little princess and her prince. They hopped on board rather sharply, as muscled men pulled her skinny but tall brother inside, her being his trustful backpack.

But as he seemed tense because everyone claimed they were approaching the border, he told her he was fine. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

The next morning, the shriek of the train brakes clawed into her brain. The unstoppable wagon was somehow now completely silent, completely desperate.

She followed her commands and climbed unto his shoulders. Her brother, the yin to her yang, asked her, trembling, if she trusted him. He wanted the certitude that the dearest piece of him would follow him anywhere.

She held him tighter than she never thought she could to answer. He whispered that they would be fine. And, because her hero said so, she believed him.

The doors were slammed opened with a furious racket. The screams of agony of all the refugees next to her buried the blinding light in a pillar of dust. They all were horses galloping to their freedom.

"Stop! Or we will shoot!" someone shouted.

She asked her brother why they weren’t stopping, but he did not answer. The only thing he could see was the fence to jump. He ignored the barbwire facing him, he ignored the guns facing him. He imagined others would take the fall.

One loud bullet rang in the air. The stampede furiously stopped, looking for any wounded amongst the runners, to find none.

The few men on the other side watching her held machine guns, ready to fire, with enough bullets for every single one of the wild horses.

"This was the warning shot. There will be no other…" claimed their leader.

"They won’t shoot," said her brother.

"How do you know?’’ she answered.

"They won’t shoot," he repeated louder.

The crowd herd him this time. It was the spark that ignited the flame of their resilience, the drop that overfilled the vase of their sorrow. With cannons against them, they all lunged towards the fence.

She stuck her hear in his back, listening to his rapid heartbeat increase gradually.

She felt herself raising in the air and hitting the fence. Her brother, with the agility of a monkey, was climbing the only wall between them and her mother.

As he reached the top of the fence, a second bullet tore the air. The sound of her brother’s heart was as silent as the small flapping of butterfly wings.

It took only one other shot for the whole herd to be vanquished. Her brother’s corpse fell on the other side of the border, feeling more calm already, and her with it. She quickly tried to free herself from the cadaver, almost immediately grabbed by American border officers.

And, as they prepared to throw her over the fence into this war-torn country, she heard her war hero scream:

"Just take the kid. Just take the kid."

The officers suddenly stopped, observing the crowd stranding in the distance. The small girl, crying her heart out, held her arms out towards her brother, trying to hold him again in her arms. He was her only home, her only country.

There was no ticket. There was no safe haven. Her family was gone.

Without a brink of hesitation, her tears were forbidden from rolling down her cheeks. Her hands joined themselves in front of her; her mind closed itself to any weakening opening. Hope escaped her through every orifice.

"I’m going to see mom, and you will too one day. "

She saw her own reflection in the eyes of her brother. The soldiers were pulling her away from him, dragging her to this sainted America. And as this war finally found its way into her heart, she finally tore the veil covering her innocence.

"You’ll be fine," he desperately whispered.

And, even if her hero said so, she knew deep down that she never would.