Lagoon

Collin wasn’t moving.

Black smoke, bright red headdresses, and peacock colored Rah-rah bands danced by the US Embassy. Powder pink Limestone buildings threw down flames and torn newspapers into the street. But Laurel would not go inside, not until Collin got up. He couldn’t be dead. A shiver ran down her arms. She bit her nails.

The Marine that took her from Collins’ arms said, “Ma’am, you have to go inside.”
She kept her eyes on Collin. “Not without that man…” Then pointed at his body lying prostrate near the gates. “He saved my life.”

Women and children ran past Collin. They screamed: Atansyon. Prese. Prese. Dife! They trample over Collin’s feet and hands and toward his face.

She ran toward the gate and screamed “Can’t you see you’re stepping on your priest?”
A crackling noise burst through the air. The Marine pushed Laurel to the ground and shielded her with his body.

The sour charcoal air burnt Laurel’s nose. She cringed, then tasted steel and dirt on her tongue.

The Marine scooped her back up so fast. She gasped. His hands gripped her so tight she had to cough.

“I won’t leave him hurt like that. He saved my life,” she said. “He saved my life.”

“We know, Ma’am, but we can’t let you go back outside that gate.”

Her body began to give into what was painfully obvious. Collin was dead. Her body quaked. She clutched the soldier’s arms and buried her head in his bulletproof chest.

“God, don’t let him die because of me.”

Then a voice more calming then the lapping water in the lagoon Collin took her to spoke. “Prepare for a miracle.”

Then her nose now filled with lemon grass, fresh, minty water, banana groves and a man, who gave her a new reason to worship.

to be continued...