A safe house was not a ho, and it felt anything but safe. It was closer to an elegant aquarium, where I was the ornantal fish—kept alive, observed, and patiently awaited until my usefulness expired.
The room asured five by four ters. Oak-paneled walls. A single bed. A writing desk. A bookshelf filled with aningless collections—books on orchid cultivation and eighteenth-century mariti history.
A panoramic window overlooked rolling hills of breathtaking beauty. The glass, however, was three inches thick and sealed shut. A steel door hid behind the bookshelf, permanently locked from the outside. I called it the forced ditation suite.
ndez, with his paranoia disguised as professionalism, called it “the General’s retreat for long-term strategic contemplation.”
At the mont, the only strategy I could focus on was how to survive without losing my sanity.
Every turning point begins with small details. Like the daily ritual of my guard, Lieutenant Vargas.
The young man—perhaps twenty-five—always looked as though he had just slled sothing unpleasant.
Every morning at exactly seven, he brought breakfast: one boiled egg, a slice of bread, and a cup of aggressively black coffee.
“Good morning, General,” he said, placing the tray on my desk with military precision.
“Good morning, Lieutenant. Any interesting news today?”
“Clear weather, General. Temperature expected to reach twenty-five degrees Celsius.”
That was his standard response. No deviation. I had begun to think of him as my personal teorological report.
“Could you ask them to add a little salt to the egg tomorrow? It tastes like oval-shaped chalk.”
Vargas didn’t react.
“I will convey your request, General.”
I was fairly certain he wouldn’t. Or if he did, the cook would ignore it. This wasn’t about food—it was about reminding who controlled even the seasoning on my plate.
Still, I found amusent in testing Vargas’s invisible limits.
“Lieutenant, what kind of bird do you think keeps chirping in the oak tree to the west?”
“I am not authorized to comnt on wildlife, General.”
“Why? Are the birds intelligence agents too?”
“Security protocol, General.”
These exchanges made laugh inwardly. Vargas was the perfect product of the system I had built—or once built. Obedient. Unimaginative. Entirely predictable.
Beneath this calm, my mind was another battlefield.
ndez had won this round—undeniably. He had relocated here seamlessly, seized command, and confined my family to the palace. A coup within a coup, executed with surgical precision. But every victory carries the seed of its own weakness.
ndez was too confident. He believed that by locking away, projecting strength through patrols and curfews, he had secured everything. He forgot that real power doesn’t co from fear—but from people’s willingness to be led.
I had given him that willingness when we toppled the old regi. Now he had to maintain it. And his thods—violence, disappearances, terror—were a recipe for long-term erosion.
In this solitude, my youthful idealism collided with bitter reality. I once believed that overthrowing a tyrant would automatically bring freedom.
Naive. What I delivered was uncertainty. And in the vacuum of uncertainty, n like ndez—practical, ruthless, efficient—thrived.
But there was one thing I still possessed that ndez did not: legitimacy.
My na still ant sothing—to the people, to parts of the military, to the international community.
As long as I lived, I remained an alternative symbol. That was why he hadn’t killed . I was more valuable alive as a dignified prisoner than dead as a martyr.
The calculation was cold—almost cruel. Accepting that my life was preserved for its propaganda value.
But in this ga, one uses what one has.
Days were asured by routine. After Vargas ca reading ti. Then physical exercise—push-ups, sit-ups, running in place—anything to maintain strength and clarity.
Afternoons were for writing. They gave a journal and a pen—after, of course, ensuring it couldn’t be used as a weapon.
I wrote thoughts. Not escape plans—that was pointless—but analysis. Economics. Military structure. ndez’s psychology.
Writing sharpened the mind. And clarity was the only weapon still free.
***
One afternoon, the routine shifted.
It wasn’t Vargas who brought lunch, but an older soldier, his face weathered like leather left too long in the sun.
“Lieutenant Vargas has been reassigned, General,” he said curtly.
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“Sothing wrong?” I asked, feigning disinterest.
“Sudden drills.” He placed the tray down. “The at’s tough today. I recomnd chewing slowly.”
An odd remark. Kitchen staff never comnted on quality. I studied him. His eyes avoided mine, yet he didn’t rush away like Vargas usually did.
“Thank you for the advice,” I said.
He nodded and left.
I inspected the food—beef, mashed potatoes, green beans. Normal. But when I cut into the at, I felt resistance. Not bone. A small plastic capsule hidden inside.
My heart accelerated.
Contact.
I swallowed it with the at, as expected. Two hours and plenty of water later, the capsule erged. Inside was a tightly rolled slip of paper.
The handwriting was microscopic. I needed full daylight to read it.
Safe. Family. Locked in palace, under heavy watch. Bird incident. Warning shots at the cage, near Eleanor. Terror ssage.
M. growing confident. Small cracks—guards, servants. Channel risky. Do not respond. Wait for signal.
- R.
R. Rosa. Mother Rosa. A resilient woman. She’d found a way.
The information froze and burned my blood at the sa ti.Warning shots near Eleanor! They fired near my daughter!—to frighten my family! To threaten ! White-hot rage surged so intensely the room blurred.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to crush ndez’s skull with my bare hands. To hear bone splinter.
Then—breathe. In. Out. Cold.
Anger was a luxury I couldn’t afford. It clouded judgnt. ndez might even want furious—irrational.
I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
I burned the note in the ashtray, watching it turn to dust. The ssage had been received. Now—response.
I couldn’t send anything back. Too dangerous. But I could signal—sothing to show I was still thinking, still planning, and that my family remained the priority.
***
The next morning, when Vargas arrived, I sat staring blankly out the window.
“General? Breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry, Lieutenant.”
“Procedure requires you to eat, General.”
“Procedure also requires a father to protect his children,” I said flatly. “Yet here we are.”
Vargas fell silent. It was the first ti I’d strayed from weather talk.
“I want to send a ssage to ndez,” I said at last.
“What ssage, General?”
“Tell him…” I paused thoughtfully. “Tell him the orchid by the southern window needs more water. Otherwise, it will die. And that would be a great loss. It’s a rare orchid.”
Vargas stared, confused.
“I will relay the ssage about the orchid, General.”
“Do so.”
The ssage was absurd. But ndez would analyze it. The orchid could symbolize sothing—the state, peace, perhaps myself.
Southern window might refer to the southern provinces. More water—a request for resources or amnesty. Death—an implicit threat.
Let him waste ti decoding a ssage that didn’t exist.
The real ssage was simple: I’m still here. I’m still thinking. And there are rare things your negligence can destroy.
It was also a test for Vargas.
Days passed. No visible change.
Then, three days later, dinner arrived with a plate of fruit. Among apples and pears was a fig.
They had never served figs before.
I split it open. Inside wasn’t seeds—but another folded note.
ssage received. Orchid monitored. All healthy. C as courier? Insane. But maybe necessary.
- R.
C… Coco? The Cockatoo? They were considering using a cockatoo as a courier? That was insane. And perhaps only insanity could work against ndez’s rational machine.
A smile touched my face.
Mateo. That had to be his idea—my strange son, who thought in taphors and unexpected angles. Now he was contemplating animal warfare.
Pride swelled in my chest—alongside the sharp pain of absence.
That night, during exercises, my thoughts turned to Coco. The bird could fly. It could leave the palace unnoticed. But how to direct it? Fifteen kiloters of tightly monitored city.
Unless…
They didn’t need to send it here. They only needed to get it out. Coco wasn’t the courier. He was the distraction. Or the symbol. Subtle intelligence—that was Mateo’s way.
I decided to reinforce the narrative.
The next day, I made another request.
“I need sothing to occupy my mind, Lieutenant. A strategy ga. Chess, perhaps.”
They brought it—a simple wooden set.
I played against myself daily, resetting the board each ti. Complex positions. Strategic problems.
And always, one piece stood out: the knight.
The knight. The unpredictable piece. The one that jumps.
Sotis sacrificed. Sotis savior.
If soone—Rosa, or another watcher—noticed the board through surveillance, they would see the pattern.
Knight. The unconventional move. Perhaps Coco.
I didn’t know if the ssage would land. But it kept my mind alive.
Two weeks passed. Isolation wore strangely.
I started talking to a spider in the ceiling corner, nad Fernando.
“Tell , Fernando—does ndez talk to spiders too? Or is he too busy running the country for arthropod philosophy?”
Fernando remained silent. Wisely.
***
Small random monts still happened.
Like when Vargas dropped a spoon, and we both bent down at the sa ti, nearly colliding heads. For a mont, we weren’t guard and prisoner—just two idiots on the floor. He made a strangled laugh before regaining composure.
Or discovering the mariti history book was written by a professor who clearly hated the sea, ending each chapter with cynical remarks like:
“And once again, humanity wasted resources and lives chasing a geographical illusion.”
I began looking forward to his complaints.
Yet beneath the humor, the cruelty of reality lingered.
Dreams ca.
Sotis peaceful—Eleanor laughing in the garden, Isabella reading, Sofia smiling.
Sotis nightmares—gunshots, screams, bird cages exploding in slow motion.
I woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, gripped by the most primal fear: being unable to protect those I loved.
In those monts, cruelty stopped being abstract. I imagined what I’d do to ndez if he stood before . Slowly. Thoroughly.
Then nausea followed.
Because I recognized that desire.
It was his logic.
Was the difference between us only opportunity?
No.
I clung to the belief there was still a line I would not cross. You are not him. You will not beco him.
***
Change ca subtly.
One morning, Vargas said, “The eggs are saltier today, General.”
I looked up. That was a deviation.
“I appreciate that, Lieutenant.”
He nodded. Sothing flickered in his eyes—not sympathy, but recognition.
The next day, he brought another book—astronomy.
“I thought you might like it. The stars are very clear from this hill.”
“Do you like astronomy too?” I asked.
“A little. My father had a small telescope.” He stopped himself. “Enjoy your book, General.”
Small. aningless, perhaps. Or perhaps not.
That night, I asked, “Lieutenant—could you show the brightest star tonight?”
He hesitated, then pointed. “That one. Sirius.”
“Beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”
He nodded and left.
A tiny shift. But sotis that’s all there is.
***
The climax arrived without warning.
ndez ca alone.
He entered unannounced, immaculate uniform, practiced expression. Vargas withdrew.
“General Guerrero,” ndez said, seating himself without invitation. “I hope your accommodations are adequate.”
“Comfortable for a prisoner.”
“We don’t call you that. You are a guest requiring protection.”
“And my family?”
“The palace is the safest place for them.”
I studied him. Dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Why are you here, Colonel?”
“I want your opinion. The eastern districts are… problematic.”
“You want my advice?”
“Once, you preferred softer thods.”
I leaned back. “And they failed. That’s why I’m here.”
“So force is the only language?”
“No,” I said calmly. “It’s the only one you understand. They speak anger. Humiliation. Despair. You can kill the speakers—but not the ssage.”
“The ssage is chaos.”
“The ssage is that they’re not afraid of you. And that terrifies you more than weapons.”
He stiffened.
“You shoot bird cages. You scare children. But as long as soone out there isn’t afraid—you haven’t won.”
He left soon after.
I sat by the window, thinking.
My family waited beyond these walls.
They were my reason not to surrender to cruelty.
I picked up the knight piece.
The ga wasn’t over.
It had just reached the interesting phase.
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