Falling With Grace

She took in a big breath, her arms folded. “I want to see my mom and tell her it wasn’t her fault I disappeared.”

Crickets chirped around us, and a small, eclectic ticking bug competed with the night sky.

“Monica?Y tu?”

“I want to work,” she said in Spanish. “I want to get a job and just live my life.”

I nodded, my eyelids drooping as I fought the need for sleep.

“What about you?” Jorge bumped me as he put his rosary in his pocket.

Exhaling, I settled in closer to him, the weight of my limbs pinning me to the ground. “I want to go home.”

My dry lips stuck together, my confession springing tears I couldn’t afford to shed.

It will all work out in the end.

For their sake and mine.

2

Grace

Ashrill scream pierced the night sky, blending with the roar of engines.

I jerked into an upright position, my hand cradling my chest as my heart thrummed against it.

“What was that?” Monica whispered in Spanish.

Jorge shook his head, his eyes wide and alert. “I don’t know.”

I crawled to the ledge, my fingers digging into the dry dirt and pine needles, my knees smarting with sharp rocks.

Harsh spotlights slashed through the darkness, their beams mercilessly dissecting the once-serene landscape.

I collapsed onto my belly, throwing a hand over my mouth, a pebble bouncing down the ridge.

No, no, no.

Three trucks with mounted floodlights drove through the middle of the group on the other side of the river.

A truck barreled into Carly, tossing her body into the air like a broken doll, her lifeless arms flailing around.

Maria raced off down the riverbank in the opposite direction while Rachel stood, eyes wide and petrified.

A gunshot shattered the anarchy with a jolt of raw malice, freezing time in its place.

Maria collapsed, her face hitting the ground without so much as a twitch to catch herself.

A billowing cloud of kicked-up dust enveloped Rachel, concealing her within the swirling chaos.

My stomach revolted, sending acid into the back of my throat.

Oh God.

Duarte battled two men, one with a baton, the other with his fists, as Isabella dashed into the thicket.

He punched the one man, sending him tumbling to the ground, and kicked out behind him. His foot buried in the man’s stomach, doubling him over, giving him time to grapple with the baton. He raised it above his head when a third man shouted behind him, freezing him in place.