Inescapable History, Inescapable Fates

I Believe That We Will Win

Henry was pulling daisy petals; he loves me, he loves me not, he likes me, he wishes I would burn in hell.

He and Pez had spent the last week trying to put together the mystery of Alex and his parents. Alex's parents must have witnessed British war crimes in Guatemala. What else would require complete incineration? The British military scorched them from the face of the planet to avoid subpoenas in the 2013 Guatemalan Genocide Trial. It was just to avoid the embarrassment of subpoenas, the US and Britain had committed countless war crimes, possibly more than any other nations in the history of the world. No international court had ever held an American or Brit responsible. So Alex's parents had been burned because they were witnesses that could embarrass Britain.

But what group had formed from the ashes of that tragedy? Henry had kept rereading the profile of Luna written in 2012. In his profile photo, Luna wore a leather bomber with a pride pin. He looked so open, like everything in the world filled him with hope and all he wanted was more. The headline of the profile read, "I believe that we will win." Henry assumed most of those involved in the terrorist spy group were like Luna, young professionals who had been involved in the Guatemalan Genocide trials and didn't feel the West had been held responsible. They were right. Britain and the United States were responsible for the genocide, they had installed the genocidal government, trained the Guatemalan army to torture innocents, given the army millions of dollars in support, and killed opposition to the genocidal government with special ops in Belize. Yet not a single brit or American was even put on trial, let alone punished.

Henry pulled out his phone and studied the blurry photo of Luna running from the explosion. The only part of the photo that was clear was Luna's eyes as he looked behind himself, they were filled with fear. He would never be that hopeful lawyer again. If the explosion was set off by M-15, Britain had robbed Alex of his family and that hopeful innocence. How many others were in their group? Were they all victims of M-15 and the CIA's foreign policy?

Henry knew they were supremely disorganized and had little training. An organized group wouldn't send an agent as unprepared as Alex into the field. They were likely deeply entrenched in the Mexican government. Luna was, at least. And someone had taught Alex to shoot. Could they be involved in other governments as well? Did they have sleeper agents in Britain or the US? How deeply entrenched was this terrorist spy network? And was Henry opposed to it? To Alex? He had to be.

"Hey," Someone shouted. Henry was zoned out, sitting against the Sandhurst building, looking over the athletic fields. It was evening and warm enough to wear t-shirts, a rare occurrence this late in fall. Henry looked up at Hunter, who was jogging towards him and away from a ad hoc soccer match. He looked sweaty, and greasy, and a bit delectable in the sunset's glow.

"Oh, Hunter!" Henry shouted in greeting. Hunter stood above him awkwardly.

"So... sorry for getting into that fight with your roommate."

"Yeah, no, Alex is..."

"Crazy, violent, chronically confused?" Hunter filled in helpfully,

"I was going to say a bit difficult, but..." Henry trailed off again,

"Yeah,"

"Yeah,

Hunter licked his lip, a nervous tick Henry could recognize, "So, you could come back to my dorm for drinks. I could make it up to you..."

Henry considered Hunter's offer and Pez's words the day before. If Alex did like Henry, Alex would have ample time to say so. "Why don't you come to mine instead?"

"But your roo-"

"- Alex won't punch you again, and he doesn't decide what I do in our room."

Hunter licked his lips again, "Good enough for me," He reached out a hand to help Henry up, "I mean, I can take him,"

Henry rolled his eyes. Boys.

"You haven't moved," Henry observed, glancing at Alex, who was bent over his laptop, surrounded by coffee cups. Alex flipped him off. "Have you taken a break?"

"I got more coffee," Alex replied.

"Hey," Hunter said, giving Alex an awkward wave as he entered the room.

Alex's eyes snapped to Hunter and back to his laptop, "Do you want me to leave?" He asked Henry, barely glancing up from the screen.

"We're hooking up." Henry said flatly, "Do you want to stay?" He arched an exacting eyebrow at Alex.

"I'm..." Alex fumbled to close his laptop and grab a mostly full coffee mug, "I'll go... to the library,"

Henry watched him leave and thought about Hunter's description. Crazy, violent, chronically confused. Maybe Hunter, without Henry's rose-tinted glasses, could see something in Alex that Henry couldn't. Henry was starting to see the little broken edges he hadn't noticed before, too distracted by Alex's beautiful hair and face and eyes and sleepy eyes through glasses and abs and burning passion for something hidden within his law books and Marxist philosophy.