Chapter 27 "Red Slash Paradox"

May entered the small stick room slightly earlier then Red and Berny, the new sister who came to their team two weeks prior to this cool morning in November. Her legs hung over the poorly painted iron pole bed as her body rested on mere threads intricately woven above and below to create a rainbow of twine strands. One might call this tapestry an economical mattress, but the subject who slept upon it would discontentedly describe it as nothing more then mere strings elevated above the ground. This morning it did not so much take the form of a bed, but rather a couch for the sisters and the visitor they expected. May’s eyes strode around the room. They jumped to the top where she noticed the flimsy wall barrier held up the tin sheet roof that lay slightly lopsided above their heads.

Her eyes moved to the sides of the room. They skipped over the gaps between the surplus of sticks and took a brief rest upon the slits she could see of the gigantic white tarp suspended on the outside of the wall facing the east. That morning it was a coat of protection from the wind’s breath that seemed so powerful. Its main purpose was not to protect the occupants of the room from streams of air, but rather the bullets and guns that were prevalent outside the door. Draped diagonally over the huge black gun in the middle of the tarp was a large red slash. For a brief moment May contemplated the red slash paradox that was the sign.

The sign protected the sisters from the same guns that protected the entire village from the rebels that had already killed 200,000 thousand people and caused another 2 million to flee for their lives. Anyone who was to enter their living quarters must rest their gun on the rock wall outside of the compound for, as the sign clearly stated, no guns were allowed in. Her mind critically found the sign to be a cheap comfort, nothing more then a superficial plastic protection from metal drops that stole, and would continue to steal, mothers and fathers and sons and daughters.

Her mind traveled a road of visions that resembled pot bellied babies, each viciously sucking on a single lolli-pop that appeared to be their first meal in five days. She saw the tired eyes of women who were alive and dead at the same time, breathing air into bodies that were drained of all hope. She thought, what is oxygen without hope? She saw the torn bodies of men, scars risen from thorns that tore into their black skin as they ran from rebels who set their homes on fire. She saw round lumps on their legs and their arms that were three inches too close to the bullet’s path.

Usually, May attempted, desperately, to avoid these pictures in her mind. She saw them daily but she distanced herself. She could not let herself enter in, even in the smallest way, this suffering in front of her. She was afraid it would paralyze her. It was later when she thought, if she closed her eyes she could see more clearly, and that is when she allowed her heart to grieve the evil in the area and the curse on the world.

Red walked into the room and unknowingly pulled May back to the present issue, where to find more tea for the visitor who would soon be there. At that moment neither sister realized the next few hours in their compound would change their lives forever.