Learning to Dance

He let his Rangers set up the radio equipment, the
sleeping quarters, the makeshift kitchen, and climbed up to
the top of the fortress’ tallest pyramid-like structure, a
temple perhaps, the closest to the cliff’s edge. He took out a
cigarette, though his supplies were getting low, and struck a
match, letting the night wind numb him, listening to the
crashing waves.
Four more of his Rangers dead today. That made two
hundred and thirty-two men and women who had looked to
him for leadership, and who he’d led only to their deaths.
He added their names to the list he’d vowed never to forget.
It was too long now, far too long.
Movement at the corner of his eye. Up tensed, then
realized that it was a human figure, in white and green, too
small to be anyone but Taz. He watched her creep to the
edge of the tall black cliffs, peering over at the moonlit
waves, the slim strip of white sand below.
“It was never Pedro that I cared about.”
Her words had echoed in his brain all day. He’d allowed
himself a moment of hope, after weeks of pushing her
away, putting distance between them. He told himself he
was giving her space to grieve, but really he knew he was
just hurting her so as to try and soothe his own hurting
heart. Did she mean what he thought she’d meant?
He watched her test her weight on a tentative set of
wooden stairs once intended, he assumed, to help tourists
find their way to the beach below. They listed now at a
frightening angle, but Taz seemed to have decided that they
were stable enough, for she crept lightly down, occasionally
sidestepping a missing plank, or railing. Up could hear the
structure creaking under her weight. He frowned.
The full moon illuminated her path. She reached the
sand, and immediately tugged off her black boots, dusty
and war worn now. Her utility belt came next, and her