They met in other dimensions at night in their dreams. Long before they laid their eyes on each other in the coat they call the body in the physical, they’d already touched each others’ heart and soul, they’d drank in the essence of each others’ loving heart, they’d swam in the ecstasy of rivers of love.
“How’s this possible?” Aisha asked Michael when they met in the halls of the sanctuary of their dreams. “How do I know you?”
She was standing next to him in the shade of the old old oak tree, one of those trees that hold up the world. It was warm. The sun was out, but there was a cooling breeze from the mountains in the distance. His arm was resting on the tree trunk, protectively above her head, and he smiled his enchanting smile.
“Why question it? We’re here, it’s possible.” Then he laughed, like always when she said something that didn’t need an explanation. She nodded – it was true. They were here, happy, together. Nothing else mattered.
He took her hand and led her down the path to the stream where a boat waited, a little tiny rowboat, and he stepped aside to let her in.
They floated in silence. The river’s waves gently lapped in the cooling breeze, and Aisha’s hand found itself in Michael’s hair.
He turned to look at her, melting in her gaze, eons of time reflected in the stillness of her honey-colored eyes. Her hand was warm on his brow, her long deep brown hair, the color of the old oak tree trunk flew in the wind framing her face. Michael kept looking, and the worlds collided.
***
They were sitting on the worn-out porch and no cool breeze reached the high spot above the valley where few dared to venture. It was their private retreat, in a commanding post over the valley where they felt safe, although the suffocating heat reached even here in this height-of-August day.
Aisha kept glancing over her shoulder as if something was going to get her at any moment, while Michael was an immovable statue in his watch over the valley, a brimmed hat shading his eyes, his hand ready on the trigger of the rifle. Not a leaf moved, not a sound reached them.
Then it came. A loud screech, the scream you give when attacked and have nowhere to go.
Michael jumped up, nerves making him chew his lips, his rifle already rising to his shoulder for the ready shot. Aisha hid behind him, a coward this time. They had but one rifle, and they knew what was coming. They’d been chased out of their home down the valley, driven away like common beggars when the revolution took hold of the peasants. It swept through the valley like a fire, even igniting their own faithful workers who’d always known nothing but kindness from them.
“Look!” Aisha said, pointing to the skies.
He dared take his eyes off the road for a moment, his rifle still ready, squinting to the azure blue. His frame was still slightly bent from sitting in the post through the night, and the trickles of sweat pouring from his forehead clouded his vision. When he stood up, he was almost eye-level with Aisha who would tower over most men – that was what attracted him in the first place. Even now he couldn’t help a grin.
“I love you,” he said in the hoarse voice she loved, and she had time to smile before he saw it too.
“A red tailed hawk. That was the scream. No one’s coming.” She smiled more, relieved before collapsing in the chair.
“Not yet. Not yet. But be sure they’ll come. That was just a warning.” Michael sat down also, and took up his scanning of the valley and especially the path up to the cabin. “They’re coming.”
The sun kept climbing up on the cloudless sky, and Aisha started to relax. She whispered, “I”m going to get us some water,” pointing to the well down the slope, but he seized her arm, furiously shaking his head.
“No! Don’t be fooled! They’re coming, and they’re just waiting for the opening and you’re just giving it to them if you go outside the gate!”
While he spoke, his jet black eyes kept scanning the canyon below and the path leading up to their hideout. Something stirred in the distance, there was a hush in the never-ending hum of the birds and animals on the mountain although you could never see them.
“They’re here!” Michael screamed, once again jumping on his feet and pulling the rifle to his cheek. His eyes were arrows of fire, his aim direct toward the bushes where the almost invisible movement had began moments ago.
Then she saw it.
Men and women, even children far below were running up the hill, storming their cabin, screaming as they ran, some firing their pistols in the air, but mostly just running toward them and screaming.
Michael took aim, and was about to shoot blindly at the men in the lead, when Aisha shielded her eyes, and grabbed his arm.
“NO! Don’t shoot!”
For the few seconds he was distracted, a cloud of dust rose far below, behind the running peasants who also saw it and panicked even more. They gathered their children in their arms and doubled their efforts to get to the cabin.
“Michael, look! They’re not coming to get us, they’re running from THAT!”
The could of dust grew in size, and MIchael squinted in the blinding sun, his rifle still at the ready, but Aisha had spotted their own workers who were waving and greeting them with cries of help.
“They’re fleeing from the rancheros! They’re running up the hill for us to help them against them!”
She ignored MIchael’s still hesitant growl, and ran down the hill.
“This way! Come, we’ll close the gate once you’re all in. There’s safety in numbers!”
The men in the lead turned now, going back to help their women and children, tears streaming down their earth-colored faces.
“Gracias senorita! We knew we could rely on you to get us out of this trouble, from those animals who are chasing us!” It was Jorge, their foreman who turned to thank Aisha who had joined him to help carry the kids inside their cabin. When she turned back, she saw Michael was running down the hill to join her.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT SUNDAY
Short Stories 