Love in Death

Love in Death - Norman A. Rubin

"Two students, hand in hand, walked effortlessly through the busy
passages of the university. The young man stepped proudly in his love
and the girl of his endearment behaved demurely shy. They were
obliviously unaware of their immediate surroundings, deaf to the snide
remarks of their gossipy fellows, and blind to the stern glare of the
dissaproving tutours. Their affectionate glances at one another spoke
of endearing friendship shared in the intimacy of their
thoughts...."
A scream shattered the dream of a tortured youth as he lay in the filth
of his confinement. It was followed by loud pleading sobs, echoed
through the narrow, dimly lit cell, which jarred the other pitiful
inmates to instant alertness. "Jose, it was Jose!", whispered the muted
fears as they crossed themselves, "Our Father in heaven.." Ten in all
shared the misery of the enclosing dirt encrusted walls encased by the
rusted iron of the door and the high barred small window. All were
rebellious students of the university who protested the dictates of the
corrupt rulers.
They were called traitors to the ruling military government and the
penalty was the blindfold on the accused as they stood against the
pockmarked wall in the dusty courtyard. Only those from wealthy
families, whose monies greased the palms of judges and jailers, were
able to find release from the torments.
The inert young man was deaf to the cries as lay on the debris-strewn
floor of the cell, staring at the rays of sunlight piercing the openess
of the never reaching window. A swollen face lashed by beaten fists of
his tormentors hid his once youthful, handsome features; his longish
dark hair matted by dried cakes of dirt mixed blood. Flies and other
vermin circled the wounds and evil-eyed rats darted from hidden corners
to nibble on flesh. Tattered clothing partially hid the hideous wounds
of torture inflicted on his slim youthful body, now a vessel of pain
dried blood and greenish fluid. Called one of the leaders of the
student uprising, he suffered the heavy hand of corrupt justice, more
than his compatriots. He just lay in the pain of his broken body and
just stared at the dusty beams of light shining through the
never-reachable window.
"Maria, yes I do remember, it was Maria," whispered the name as the
youth jogged the cobwebs of memory. A faint picture coursed though the
depths of tortured mind that brought a touch of a smile on his cracked
lips. She was a portrait of vigourous health and radiant beauty to the
youth; the proud features of her Indian heritage, etched on her dark
complexional face added to her handsomeness, which the young man found
appealing. He pictured her black hair flowing over her shoulders,
shining in radiance as it streamed down to the center of her back to
the curvaceousness of her hips. The softness of her body, rich in the
plumpness of youth, held promises of warmth and pleasure in the
embrace.
Maria, vibrant in youth, had dreams; dreams of sharing her life with a
promising young man, both in career and of love. Her dreams embraced
study of medicine at the University; her desired hope was fulfilled by
her acceptance for study. She was an outstanding pupil, forevever
burning the night lamp to attain high marks needed for scholarship.
Yet, she had a bit of time to be frivolous, to flash her skirt at the
handsome compadres, and at rare times feel, on her plump body, the soft
pommeling of a muscular youth.
His tortured mind conjured a refreshing vision from the past; a dim
memory of a pleasant interlude of romance that softened the harshness
of the oppressive period. Maria was her name. Her slight flirting
skirts had enticed him and within time the youth of promise tasted the
lushness of her soft flesh. As she was striving in her goal of study,
the romance betweeen the two was constantly interferred with the need
of her books. And the romantic interludes had further interferrance due
to young man's pursuit of harranguing the student poplace in the fight
against the oppressive regime. Yet, to the wonder of their compatriots,
the two opposites, Maria and the youth became strange bed-fellows,
showing their love openly.
A smile etched on his bloody lips as remembrance returned slowly. From
his shattered mind, the thought of the passionate evenings he spent in
loving embrace with Marie caused a warm sensation to flow through his
body. The touch of her lips in a tongued kiss, the sweet suckling of
her rose tipped nipples, and the cry of ecstacy from the deepness of
her throat as he entered into her passage of delight sent spasms of
anguish through his mind. "Marie, Marie, I love you. Come to me!" he
called out in the need of her delightful presence, but the bitterness
of the imprisonment returned and all thoughts vanished.
Another scream echoed through the dimal corridors of the prison that
enroached on the inmates of the cell. Not a word was uttered as the
inmates stared at the cobwebbed ceiling above. Then they heard the
booted steps and the dragging of a body above, as another enemy of the
comandante en jefe ceased the breath of life. "Yes, it was Jose."
Whispered the voices. Booted feet and the dragging of dead remains
rattled along the concrete stairs, each sound a note of despair. But,
the tortured youth continued to stare at the beams of light.
There were other thoughts flowing through the clouded mind of the
youth, clearing to a note of past proudness. He was known as a radical
politico in the university, always joining the student riots against
the wrongs of the rule of the generalissimo: The comandante now
labelled with the prestigious title presidente for life, who, in the
past had, with a few of the officers in the army of their command,
overturned the legitimate government. The youth was one of the many
revolutionaries that refused to bow under the gun of the
military.
He had studied political science, at that time, and was considered a
youth of promise. But the constant struggle of the people against the
wrongs of military government was, in his mind, a need for immediate
correction. He joined the Libertad movement in the fight for the rights
of the people. The student's life was mixed with the needs of his
studies and the cries of injustice from the oppresed.
Heavy boosteps echoed along the corridor leading to the barred door of
the cell. A harsh command was called. Terror stalked the prisoners as
the rattling of keys was heard. The door opened with a screech that
sent a cold shiver throughout; uniformed thugs entered. A name was
called out, followed by a frightened scream. No words were uttered as
the booted guards grabbed the intended by both arms and dragged him
from the confines of the cell. The scuffle of the uniformed men and the
futile efforts of the victim ended with the crash of the closing
door.
The faint sound of 'Libertad, Libertad, Viva', followed by the harsh
staccato rhythm of fired bullets drifted through high window. No notice
was taken by the tortured youth as he stared at the rays of light
letting the dreams of the past to course through his mind.
Maria, was her name. The touch of her sweet lips, the nibble on her
tender ear lobes, the warmth of the lingering embrace, all coursing
through the dim reccesses of his mind. There were the rembrances of the
few endearing years, - of wine shared in the cantinas, the whirling of
youthful bodies in dance, the vison of the lovers in nature's dress
lying in the green of the forest, and the lover's quarrels that were
resolved in the passionate yet, tender copulation. Memories that now
lay in the dust of the past.
Betrayal it was called; the secret meeting of the student's revolution
committee was comprised. The door to the secret hideaway was smashed
through and both uniformed militar and the dreaded policia secreta
tramped through. Truncheons and rifle butts found their mark on
youthful bodies. The scuffle was short-lived and the students were
forced or carried from the building to waiting police vans.
The trial was a sham; the verdict was a foregone conclusion. It was
macabre show that pictured the small group of twelve radical youthful
culpirts, chained and well-guarded standing in the rear of the
court:
The judge, prosecutor and clerks of justice, in the guise of legal
authority, were seated in their appropriate places. The farse, to show
democratic procedure, ended with a guilty verdict - "TREASON!!" It was
called out and the sentence of death was read upon the listing of the
names of the accused. Clemency was shown to few with a sentence of hard
labour for life to those charged.
"Libertad, libertad," was shouted by Jose, the firebrand of the group.
The other students raised their fisted hands and joined in the shouting
of "Libertad". As the heavy-handed guards tried to silence them, the
revolutionaries broke into the proud singing of their anthem that
echoed loudly throughout the palace of justice. Irritable orders were
barked by the commander of the guard and rifle butts prodded the
students from scene of due process to the waiting vans."
Time dragged by with the daily repeated scene. Other traitorous youths
to the regime were crammed into the miserable confines of the cell.
Then, that day, the heavy door opened rustily and the name of the youth
of promise was called out. He did not hear the voice; he just lay on
the dirty floor staring at the beam of light and letting his mind roam
to the past. Rough hands grabbed his arms and he was dragged to feet
and forced to leave the rays of light and the sweet memories. "Maria,
Maria," he called out softly as he was pulled through the
doorway.
The heavy beat of leather boots and and the whisper of threadbare
sandals sounded through the long and narrow corridor, the floor fouled
in the misery of the past. At the end of the passage the course led on
the right to the chamber of torturous interrogation, and to the left to
a flight of rough chipped concrete steps that routed to the
blindfold.
There was a momentary pause as the youth of promise nearly fell in the
pain of beaten limbs. He was jerked upwards and the pathetic procession
coursed its way towards....