Stockholm Syndrome

With the reflexes of a puma, Charlie “Foxtrot” McLean grabbed Javier and pulled him to the floor before the bullets pierced the windows.
“Hide behind the kitchen counter!” Foxtrot yelled to the baffled doctor.
Javier followed Charlie’s advice and crawled to the kitchenette. Charlie follow him. The two crouched behind the counter. Javier knew what was happening. It was the guerillas. Either that or a paramilitary group. They were all the same to Javier, just a bunch of troublemakers. Javier huddled near Charlie.
With the windows dead, the forces outside started shooting the door. Soon the rustic door was broken down. It fell on the floor with a deafen thump. Several loud boot steps followed.
“WE ARE THE MARXISTAS REVOLUCIONARIA DE COLUMBIA!” a man yelled, “SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY!”
Charlie turned to Javier.
“We have to surrender,” he said.
“Don’t we have any guns?” Javier asked.
“In the jeep,” Charlie admitted.
“In the jeep? No wonder you were kicked out of the army,” Javier said, “Besides the gay thing, I mean.”
Charlie took off his white shirt and put it on a broom. With this he made a white flag and waved it above the counter.
“We surrender!” Charlie yelled.
The man, from the aforementioned Marxistas Revolucionaria de Columbia (MRC), marched over to the kitchenette with his gun. He was a tall, skinny stick of a man, shaking in his ill-fitting fatigues. He relaxed into contempt when he saw the hiding men. He motioned off to the side to his comrades. About five guerillas came over now that the coast was clear.
“They’re unarmed?” one asked the skinny man.
“But the jeep was loaded with arms!” another said.
“Looks like a stupid gringo,” commented yet another.
One of the men stepped to the front. He was a large man with a curly black beard. He looked down at the surrendering men.
He asked in a slow patronizing voice, “Do you speak Spanish?”
“Of course I do,” answered Javier too quickly.
“Yes,” answered Charlie, who then turned to Javier, “He was talking to me.”
“What were you doing here?” the man asked.
Javier didn’t answer this time. He looked at his companion.
“It’s a long story,” Charlie said, “Well, I kidnaped this guy here.”
“Kidnaped?” the man asked incredulously.
“Well, not for real. We’re going to share the ransom.”
“Don’t tell him that!” Javier complained.
“How decadent!” the burly man spat out, “Exhorting money from your family like that! I ought to kill you bourgeois running dogs! Good Marx, you make me sick!”
The burly man grabbed Javier’s arm and forced him up. Javier ripped his arm away, only to have his arms tied behind him by another man. In contrast Charlie simply got up and offered his hands. His hands were tied behind his back. The two were walked out of the damaged cabin and into the jungle. Downhill, not to far away, was the MRC camp. About a dozen men were milling about, doing their morning routine. They looked at the captives with a hostile curiosity. One stocky young man looked at still shirtless Charlie with a shy lust. He soon changed his expression to a more appropriate look of anger, though it wasn’t very convincing. As the captives walked to a large tent at the end of the camp, a nervous Javier turned to his former kidnapper.
“What are we going to do?” he whispered in English.
“I’ll think of something,” Charlie replied, also in English.
When they got to the tent, the procession stopped. The black bearded man stepped up to the door of the tent.
“Capit n Graza, Sargento Juanez reporting, sir,” he announced.
A voice from inside the tent replied inaudibly.
Sargento Juanez answered “We found two men in the cabin, sir. They surrendered to us.”
The voice said something else. Sargento Juanez turned to the captives.
“Our Leader, Capit n Honor Juanez Graza, wishes to see you,” Sargento Juanez announced.
Sargento Graza lifted up the tent door. The two captives were unceremoniously pushed in, as if they would have refused to enter around all these armed men. Inside the tent the leader sat behind a flimsy field desk. The only sign of his command was the red star on his cap. He had a greying beard and cold eyes. Another man stood next to him, who was easily recognizable as his second-in-command. The man gave off that impression of being better than the leader in everything but charisma. He looked like a small, somewhat nebbish version of Capit n Graza.
Behind them was a curtain that divided the tent. Capit n Graza and his second-in-command looked the men over.
“Sit!” ordered the guerilla leader.
Charlie and Javier looked around for seats. All they found were two camp chairs, so they sat down in them. They felt uncomfortable in them. The chairs were fine for just hanging out at a picnic, but awkward for an interrogation by a revolutionary group.
The second-in-command walked towards them, trying to be threatening but failing. A man wearing cheap plastic glasses isn’t that threatening. However, the leader was intimidating enough, giving the second-in-command a false sense of confidence. He stared the redhead first in the eye.
“ Habla espanol?” he asked.
“Si,” Charlie replied.
“ Como se llama?”
“Charlie Thomas McLean.”
“ Nationalidad?”
“Norteamericano.”
“ Objecto?”
“Secuestro falso.”
Javier hissed at Charlie, “Don’t tell him that!”
“Silence!” yelled Capit n Graza.
The second-in-command continued, “What do you mean by “false kidnaping”?”
Charlie explained, “I was going to kidnap this guy here, ransom him, and then split the money.”
The second-in-command turned to the kidnaped man.
“ Como se llama?” he asked.
“Fransisco Javier Maria Jos Ynfante de los Rios.”
“ Los Ynfante fuertes?”
“No, no, no, es coincidencia.”
Capit n Graza roared, “Don’t lie! You’re one of the Bogota Ynfantes. I’ve seen you on a billboard for nose jobs!”
The leader and second-in-command laughed at Dr. Ynfante for a moment. They turned to talk to each for a moment.
“Sir, we should hold him for ransom ourselves,” suggested the second-in-command.
“That’s too much trouble, Ra l. Let’s just kill them,” Capit n Graza replied.
“Wait!” Charlie said, “We’ll join you!”
Everyone turned to Charlie, including Javier, in surprise.
“I have military experience,” Charlie said, gesturing at his tattoo, “And Javier can work as a medic.”
The second-in-command scoffed, “A former U.S. running dog and a nose doctor? We can do without.”
“Primer Teniente Graza, wait outside,” Capit n Graza ordered.
Primer Teniente Graza looked at the Capit n with a look of familar disgust.
He started, “You aren’t going to...”
“Get out!” Capit n Graza barked.
Primer Teniente Graza left the captives to whatever horror Capit n Graza had planned for them. The rebel commander grinned like a crocodile at his prey. Between his smile and Ra l’s frown, there didn’t seem to be much hope for the two.
“Se ores,” he said, “I would like to accept you into the Marxistas Revolucionaria de Columbia, but I’m not sure I can trust you. After all, you come from the United States and served their imperialist mission, and you come from the corrupt elites in the capital. Still, you bring skills that could come in handy. How can I trust that you wouldn’t go back to your former ways?”
“I was kicked out of the army!” Charlie declared, “I hate them, I hate the United States!”
“I hate my family!” Javier added, “I hate all of them! I don’t agree with my father!”
“Yes, I rebelled against the United States Army!”
“I argue with my father all the time! I denounce my older brothers and my uncles and my cousins and everything!”
“I’m practically a traitor to my country! I came here for freedom!”
“I renounce my old ways! I hate my old ways! I will kill my old ways! I’ll kill my family! The streets will run red with the blood of the bourgeois!”
“I’ll kill people too that need killing! Viva la Revolucion! Death to America!”
“Silence!” the commander yelled, then spoke on, “To show that you are loyal. I need you to do what I command you to do. What I command of you is very strange, but you must do it or else,”
“You must have sex with each other,” he said.
Charlie and Javier stared at Capit n Graza, and then their eyes drifted towards each other. The memory of last night was still very fresh. Charlie felt himself blush. Javier’s pulse quickened. Capit n Graza smiled at the chemistry. He came over and slowly untied the bounds. The captives remained seated, still shocked at this order. Capit n Graza pulled back the curtain and to Charlie and Javier’s relief revealed only a twin sized bed along with other bedroom furniture. The captain moved his chair to the other side of the desk in order to view the bed better and sat down.
“Decided amongst yourselves who’s going to be on top,” Capit n Graza suggested gently.
Javier turned to Charlie.
“Me,” he said in English, “I’ll be on top. I’m your employer.”
“Employer?” Charlie asked, “Does that really matter any more? We aren’t getting a ransom now!”
“But I paid your advance!”
“The advance didn’t include sex. I’m not a whore.”
“You aren’t anything! I’m a doctor. I provide more to this group.”
“You’re a plastic surgeon. They don’t need facelifts.”
“I have general medical knowledge! I can help!”
“Can you shoot a gun? That’s what they really need.”
“A trained ape can shoot a gun.”
“You didn’t answer: can you shoot a fucking gun?”
Javier snorted, then thought of another angle of superiority.
“I’m descended from El Cid,” he declared.
“Who?” Charlie asked.
“El Cid!” Javier yelled, “The National Hero of Spain! He fought the Moors back in the Middle Ages!”
“I don’t care if you’re descended from Don Quixote, you’re still not getting on top. Besides, I’m descended from George Washington.”
“Ha! Stupid yankee! Even I know that George Washington didn’t have any children of his own.”
Charlie paused. He tried to remember what his Aunt Muriel had said about their family connection with the Father of Our Country, but all he could think about was some babble about Ulster county. Still, he soldiered on.
“I didn’t say I was a direct descendant,” Charlie maintained.
“So you’re just a cousin of a cousin?” Javier asked.
“It’s more direct than yours! El Cid lived so long ago, he probably has millions of descendant. I’m probably a descendant!”
“Well, George Washington...”
“Silence!” Capit n Graza yelled, “Stop the stupid bickering! Un bonito will be on top and un hirsuto will be on the bottom.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Javier.
“But first, un rico will give un rojo a chupada,” Capit n Graza said.
“Ha!” Charlie cried.
“Yankee,” Capit n Graza directed, “Stand with your side to the desk to get your blowjob.”
“What?” Javier cried, “I won’t give...”
“So you wish to rebel against me?” Capit n Graza asked.
No, no, Se or Capit n!” Javier answered quickly.
“Then go over there and get on your knees in front of the Yankee,” Capit n Graza said, pointing at the floor.
Javier angrily knelt down in front of Charlie and unzipped the man’s pants with a speed that caught Charlie by surprise.
“You really going to do this?” Charlie whispered.
“Yes,” mumbled Javier, “Now just shut up so I don’t have to think about you.”
Javier then fished Charlie’s long penis out of his boxers. He examined it.
“Eww,” he said, “It’s circumcised.”
“So?” asked Charlie.
“I’ve only seen one of these in textbooks,” he replied, “It looks weird, like someone deflated an erected penis.”
“Then make it an erect penis,” Charlie murmured between his teeth.
Javier looked at the penis in front of him. It was a shade darker than the tanned pale of Charlie’s skin, and the head was the shade of his blush. It seems to stare at him with one eye, and the curls of red escaping from the boxers made it look even cheeky. Javier took the base with one hand and slowly put his lips on it. It was warm, and smelled musky. He slowly put his mouth over it. The cock jumped in his mouth, surprising Javier and making him retreat. Javier decided to go forward again. If he had to give a blowjob, he was going to make it the best blowjob ever. This idea excited him too much, but he tried to ignore that. Javier went forward on the cock, trying to put the whole length down his throat. Unfortunately, his gag reflex interfered. Javier was not one to let some simple reflex contractions stop him and he swallowed the length, concentrating not to vomit. Charlie looked down at the sight of Javier’s lips on the base of his cock and moaned. Javier looked Charlie in the eye with a gleam of happiness, but then looked away embarrassed.
As the cock became hard, Javier changed his tactics. He pulled his lips of the cock, and pulled down Charlie’s pants in one quick move. Charlie’s cock bounced and Javier felt his heart jump traitorously. Javier had always been good with his hands and so he used them to his advantage. As he sucked on the now very red head, he gently and fiercely caressed the shaft, while his other hand played with Charlie’s balls.
Charlie shivered with pleasure. He looked over at Capit n Graza, and seeing his horny face decided to look away. When he looked down Javier he was unnerved by the fellator’s face, like the face of some competitor. He decided to close his eyes and enjoy the pleasure.
“Stop!” Capit n Graza said, “Before un rojo comes.”
It was hard to tell who was more disappointed by this stop. Javier took his mouth off Charlie’s erection. He hated being interrupted. He almost instinctivly went to complain to his receptionist when he thought better of it. He looked over at Capit n Graza with a treasonously angry look. Charlie just gave a horny sigh.
“Take off your clothes!” Capit n Graza ordered.
As Javier got up to obey this order, he realized to his horror that he had enjoyed sucking off the yankee too much. It wasn’t a full erection, but it was enough to make a straight man like him worry. He tried to hide it the best he could while undressing, which wasn’t an easy task.
Charlie undressed quicker, as he was already half-dressed and didn’t really bother to hide his erection. Javier looked over at him. While they had seen each other naked, they hadn’t seen each other naked and sober. Charlie certainly was hairy, but in neat patches. He was fit, but in a lazy way that came from playing a quick game with friends rather than from any body building. Javier looked away and finished taking off his clothes while thinking of cold showers. Charlie looked at Javier. He really wasn’t that skinny, Charlie had to admit. It was just compared to the usual guys he fucked Javier looked like a stick.
“Yankee, get on the bed on all fours, like a dog,” Capit n Graza directed.
“What about lube?” Charlie asked.
“Over there,” Capit n Graza answered, pointing to a jar on the nightstand.
“Condoms?”
“Get on with it!”
Charlie got onto the bed and opened the jar. Inside was some weird green gunk that appeared to be homemade from some tree sap. Charlie grimaced at the stuff. Javier got on the bed behind him.
“Not so fast!” Charlie said, “I’m putting this disgusting stuff on myself. I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t even want to touch your hairy ass,” Javier replied.
Charlie got down on his hands and knees, took a great glob of the stuff, and shoved it into his ass using his fingers and a grunt. Seeing Charlie bent over, his ass shiny and filled with the strange goo, somehow seem so erotic to Javier. Charlie then took the lube and gave Javier a quick jerk with his moist hand, then resumed the position. Javier just stood there looking at the ass he was about to fuck.
“Rich boy, go fuck him!” Capit n Graza impatiently yelled.
“Just go ahead,” Charlie said, “It’s clean, I did it this morning.”
“What?” Javier asked, “Eww, I didn’t need to hear that.”
Pushing that out of his head, Javier place his hand on Charlie’s round ass. With another hand he took his mostly erect dick and slowly entered Charlie. With all the lubricant the maricon had used, there was no friction, just a wonderful tightness. Javier signed happily as he felt himself being swallowed up by Charlie’s body.
“You’re so tight,” Javier said dreamily.
“What did you expect?” Charlie grunted.
“I thought you were a big puto,” Javier replied nastily.
Charlie groaned in response. Javier started to fuck him rhythmically.
“I think you like this,” Javier cooed, “I know your close. You were about come in my mouth.”
Charlie moaned, “No...oh... you’re the one whose going to come first. You can’t handle...ugh...this ass.”
“Really?” Javier said.
He grabbed Charlie’s dick. He rubbed his dick as gently as he fucked his ass hard. Charlie cursed this wonderful hand job. Damn steady surgeon’s hands, he thought. He was so soft but firm and he knew to change the tempo. No wonder he got all the women. But Charlie wasn’t going to come like some bitch after a few pumps and a hand job. Javier would think he had won his stupid game. Why did he have to be so competitive? Charlie would show him not to be competitive by winning this fight.
So the two men fucked like it was war. Capit n Graza looked in delight at his two new soldiers. Javier seemed to be winning this battle, but it was getting to him. Charlie was moving his hips just the right way, making it harder for Javier to keep control. Javier stopped, then slowed down, and kept his pace on Charlie’s bursting cock. Javier grinned madly. Charlie just moaned and sighed. It just felt too good. He was going to die if he didn’t relax and let it out.
Finally, Charlie gave in and with a roar came right into Javier’s ready hand. Javier felt this, and stopped. He had won. He pulled his hard sticky cock out of Charlie and instinctually went to finish himself off with his cum covered hand. He was already very close to orgasm, so it only took a few pumps for him to come right when Charlie turned around.
The redhead looked at him with annoyance and cum dripping down his beard. Javier just shrugged and leaned back on the bed. He felt so exhausted after that. He then looked over at smiling Capit n Graza. The guerilla commander had the shocked look of a kid who expected a bicycle for Christmas and got a fighter jet instead. Javier suddenly felt a surge of embarrassment go through his body. He demurely put his hands over his crotch. Charlie wiped the beads of cum of his beard and chest.
“Sir?” Charlie asked.
Capit n Graza remembered his propriety all of a sudden and turned his surprised smile into a strict frown. He took out a rag and threw it over to the bed.
“Here,” he said, “Clean up and get dressed. You did a good job.”
Charlie took the rag and wiped the remains off himself. He handed the rag to Javier, who wiped off his cock.
“I always finish myself off,” Javier said in non-apology.
“Shut up,” Charlie replied.
Capit n Graza went to get up, but then changed his mind. He sheepishly sat back down again. He decided to lecture them from the safety of his field desk.
“Go talk to Primer Teniente Graza, the man with the glasses, outside the tent,” he said.
Charlie and Javier got dressed (half-dressed in Charlie’s case) and left the strangely immobile Capit n Graza to his own devices. Outside they were meet by a disgusted Ra l. He murmered the words “maldito pelirrojos” and then addressed the new recruits.
“I assume the Capit n has accepted you into our group,” he said, “after whatever initiation he inflicted upon you. Sargento Juanez!”
The black-bearded man who had captured them marched over to his superior.
“Yes, sir,” Sargento Juanez said with a salute.
“These men are now under your command,” Primer Teniente Graza ordered, “Get them some supplies.”
The older man winched but otherwise didn’t show his disapproval in front of his commanding officer. He turned to the captives-turned-soldiers.
“Nombre?” he asked.
Primer Teniente Graza whispered their names to the sergeant.
Sargento Juanez adressed them, “Soldado McLean, Soldado Ynfante!”
Javier complained, “Shouldn’t I have higher rank since I’m a medic?”
“Stand up straight!” he barked, “Follow!”
The two did both as they walked to a nearby supply tent. He opened up a footlocker and after little search he took out two differently patterned fatigues and gave them to Charlie and Javier. Javier examined his clothes, annoyed that the man hadn’t even bothered to ask his size. He found them not to his liking.
“These have blood stains on them!” Javier exclaimed.
“Then wash them!” Sargento Juanez shot back.
“And bullet holes!”
“Just patch them!”
“It’s not that hard to do,” Charlie offered.
Sargento Juanez went back to the footlockers and brought out some other stuff, which he then put in two large sacks and handed them out to Charlie and Javier. Inside the sacks were a bed roll, a mess kit, toiletries, a pocket knife, and flashlight. What it didn’t include was the most obvious supply for a soldier, and the two recruits waited for it. The sergeant expected this complaint.
“I’m not arming you yet,” he said, “As for anything else, come to me, and I’ll talk to Marco, and Marco will yell at me, and then I’ll yell at you, and you’ll just have to bum it off some other private, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie answered.
“We’re unarmed?” Javier asked, and was ignored.
Sargento Graza turned around.
“Get dressed!” he ordered.
The two quickly got dressed without looking at each other. The fatigues were a little too small on Charlie and a little too big on Javier, but otherwise fit pretty well. Unfortunately, they didn’t feel very well. The new clothes felt both dry and disturbingly wet and smelled like mothball and body odor. The two fidgeted in these hand-me-downs.
“We’ve dressed, sir,” Charlie said.
Sargento Juanez turned around.
“Now, Soldado McLean,” he said, turning to Charlie, “you come with me back to the cabin and then to your jeep, and we will clean them out.”
He turned to Javier and said, “Soldado Ynfante, you will do any inventory of our medical supplies, and when you are done you will assist McLean in putting up your tent.”
He then said to both, “ Comprende?”
“Yes, sir!” answered Charlie with a sharp salute.
“Yes, sir,” answered Javier with a weaker salute.
Javier gave Charlie a sideways look. Charlie didn’t respond. He left the tent with Sargento Juanez.
So Javier spent the about three hours working on the medical inventory, while Charlie was off with their sergeant. Not surprisingly, the medical supplies for this group were lax. Dr. Ynfante counted the supplies: one (1) box of children’s band-aids, one (1) bottle of vitamins with two (2) sad pills, one (1) empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, one (1) pocket knife, fifteen (15) tourniquets, and one hundred five (1,005) syringes. The doctor spent most of his time finding new inventive ways of doing the inventory instead of doing hard labor.
Around early afternoon, Charlie’s jeep, driving by another private, drove up to the camp. Charlie and Sargento Juanez got out of the car, and unpacked all the supplies. Along with two privates, they took all of the stuff into the supply tent where Javier was working. After they were finished, Charlie talked with Javier in English.
“They found all the stuff I had hidden in the jeep,” Charlie whispered, “I had secret compartments there that they ripped open. I did manage to sneak something out.”
Charlie pulled out a Trojan condom from his waistband. He had several more stashed away there. Javier gave him a look.
“Condoms?” he said, “You snuck out condom? Why not something more important?”
Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it, then after a moments thought spoke up.
“You can keep stuff dry with condoms,” he said, “That’s useful.”
“Why did you bring condoms to this trip anyway?” Javier asked accusingly.
Charlie, unsure of the answer himself, told him, “I always bring my condoms. I don’t trust the Colombian ones, so I have them shipped from the United States.”
Javier said mockingly, “In a care package from your mommy.”
“Yeah, my mom is nice,” Charlie replied, to Javier’s surprise.
Sargento Juanez entered the tent at that moment. He looked over at the two. Charlie stood at attention, but Javier remained seated at his table. The sergeant gave an angry glance at him, and Javier got the idea. He pushed back his chair and followed Charlie’s example.
“Soldado Ynfante, help McLean put up a tent,” he ordered.
“I’m still busy doing the inventory,” Javier replied.
“No, you are done!” Sargento Juanez shot back, “By Lenin’s body, how long does it take to count a couple syringes?”
Sargento Juanez gave them a pup tent and a tarp and showed them the spot where they would put up their tent. The spot was at the farthest reach of the camp, but it wasn’t a very big camp in the first place. There were only about two dozen people in this cell. Charlie knew how to put up a tent, so it didn’t take very long for the both of them to get the job done. After that, they were assigned to pick firewood. This job afforded them some privacy, though one of the privates watched them. For this reason, they spoke in whispered English.
“Charlie!” Javier whispered as he picked up a stick near Charlie.
“What?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t tell anyone about what happened!”
“What happened when?”
“You know! The....um,” Javier slipped on his words, trying to find one secret enough, “The coitus a tergo.”
“The what?”
Javier made a gesture with his hands.
“Oh, sex,” Charlie said.
“Don’t tell anyone!” Javier repeated.
“Gee, I was going to tell everyone about my humiliating experiences,” Charlie replied.
Javier mouthed the word “humiliating”, but said nothing. He turned his head away and walked over to another stick. Charlie walked over behind him.
“Don’t out me,” he said.
Javier jumped a bit. He turned around to see Charlie, then turned back to his work.
“Don’t come up from behind like that,” Javier said, “Anyway, I wouldn’t out you. I’m not going to tell people I spent a night in a cabin with a gay man. They might get...”
“...the right idea,” Charlie interrupted.
Javier frowned.
“I never want to have sex with you again,” he declared.
“Me neither,” Charlie lied.
They both continued their work in silence. For the rest of the afternoon they did various menial chores. None of the task were very important. In fact, most of it was busy work. It was what a British schoolboy would call “fagging”, to the alarm of an American schoolboy. Mainly, it was meant to exhaust them. Around eight, they got to rest and have a simple dinner of rice and potato soup.
Charlie and Javier sat on a log by the campfire, eating their food greedily, since they had not eaten since breakfast. The stocky young man who eyed Charlie earlier came over with a few other soldiers to sit down and eat.
“Ehhhhh,” he asked Charlie, “You’re one of us now, right?”
“Yep,” replied Charlie.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“My name is Charlie,” he replied, “and this guy over here is Javier.”
“Ehhhh, I’m Pedro,” the stocky young man said, then pointed to skinny, nervous soldier from before who sat next to him, “This is Lupe.”
“H-Hi,” Lupe stuttered.
“My name’s Max,” said the brash young man next to Lupe, “What the fuck were you doing out in that cabin?”
“We were faking a kidnaping for ransom money,” Charlie answered.
“Don’t tell them that!” Javier hissed.
“You keep saying that,” Charlie said to Javier, “Do you think these people are going to run into your parents at a garden party or something?”
“Wait,” Max asked Javier, “Are you an Ynfante?”
Javier didn’t answer.
“Who are the Ynfante’s?” asked a soldiers in dread locks who had just walked over.
Pedro answered, “Ehhhh, they’re this family in Bogota, real important people.”
“Don’t you know anything, Alex?” Max chided him.
“Hey, I’m from Cartagena,” Alex said, “I don’t know anything about Bogot .”
Charlie said, “I’ve been to Cartagena. Nice place.”
Lupe repeated the question, “Are you an Ynfante?”
“He is,” Charlie answered.
Javier gave him a dirty look.
“Oh, so we have royalty here!” Max said.
Javier replied, “Don’t be so jealous.”
“Jealous? Why should I be jealous of a poor little rich boy?”
“I don’t know, maybe because I have money and you don’t?”
“We’re eating the same damn rice, Ynfante. Where are your riches now?”
“I still have money...”
“Yeah, from your mother’s world famous business.”
Charlie put his hand on Javier’s shoulder.
“Just shut up,” Charlie said in English.
“What the fuck are you doing, Rojo?” Max asked, “I don’t trust you either.”
“Well, bring it up with Capit n Graza,” Charlie said.
“Why run to him? I can take care of you myself.”
“Bring it on then, punk.”
Pedro tapped Max’s shoulder.
“Ehhh, M ximo,” Pedro said.
“What?” Max replied.
“Shut up.”
Max stared at Pedro, mumbled something under his breath, and then looked over at the new recruits with an evil look. A tense moment passed through the group. At that moment Alex spoke up.
“Hey, what do you think of Betty La Fea?” he asked.
“Oh, I love that show!” Max squealed, “Betty is my hero.”
“I hear there going to remake it in the U.S.,” Lupe said.
“Ehhhh, it won’t be good,” Pedro said.
While the rest of the guerillas discussed the popular telenovela, Charlie and Javier ate in silence. It seems they weren’t going to be making any friends today.
The day ended around ten or so. Charlie and Javier laid out their bedrolls in the tiny pup tent. The bed roll were right next to each other. They took off their boots and crawled into the tent.
“Ugh, I just want to get these stupid rags off me,” Javier said as he undressed.
“They aren’t that bad,” Charlie said, “They’re actually very comfortable.”
“Somebody died in these, Charlie.”
Charlie paused.
“I try to cheer you up, and you end up making me feel bad,” he said.
Since Sargento Juanez somehow forgotten to hand out pajamas to the recruits, they both decided to sleep in their underwear. They defiantly were not going to sleep naked. They crawled into their respective bed roll. Javier couldn’t sleep.
“I hate this place,” he said.
“Mmm,” Charlie replied.
“I really fucking hate this goddamn place,” Javier repeated, “Why did I go away from the safety of the city with you? I would have had better luck losing all my money in a casino or something. At least then I’d be in some glided palace and not in a crappy tent in the wilderness. There would be pretty girls there, and not hairy guys like you, and I wouldn’t have...”
“Javier?”
“What?”
Charlie propped himself up.
He said, “I’ve heard that in Thailand, they take little boys and girls, they buy them from their poor parents, and they put them in cages. Now, these kids are only like five or six years old, you see. And then their owners pimp them out. There are sick fucker out there who actually want to rape some little kid in a cage. Most of the time the kids don’t live to see their seventh birthday. It’s a horrible thing.”
Javier thought about this.
“What’s your point?” he asked.
“That you have no right to complain.”
“So unless I’m in a child prostitute in a cage, I can’t point out how lousy things are, right?”
“Yes.”
Javier snorted, and fell back on his flat pillow.
“Thanks for the creepy story,” he said, “That really cheered me up.”
“You should just know that some people have things worse off then you,” Charlie said.
Javier replied, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just want to go home.”
At that moment, Charlie felt homesick. It was one of the worse types of homesickness, the homesickness of the homeless. Charlie did have a residence in Bogot , but that wasn’t his home. Richmond, Virginia, despite what he told people, wasn’t his hometown, just a place he happened to be born. The city of Arlington was the place of his youth, not his reluctant adulthood. The United States Army, even after five years, was not his home. He had nothing.
Beside him, Javier slept.