The old man put his hand on the boy’s shoulder asking, “You scared?”
“Good. Now, when I give the word, you stay with me and do as I say. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see any soldiers. Ready?”
When Ramon nodded, the old man grabbed him by the arm pulling him along. They moved quickly into the street. It only took a few seconds to reach the bodies. The mayor’s wife lay on top of the pile, her light blue dress covered with a dark red stain. The old man grabbed the lifeless arm and seemed to throw the body into the street. Ramon quickly bent down and found himself looking into the open eyes of the priest.
“Ramon,” said the priest, “get out of here quickly before they decide to shoot you, too.”
“Father,” answered the old man before Ramon could say anything, “they’re gone for now and probably won’t be back. We must get both you and the children to safety.”
The priest didn’t argue, rolling over showing he was shielding the children. Ramon could now see three children. The oldest, a girl his age had been struck by a bullet in the thigh and couldn’t walk. The priest had also been hit in the leg. The youngest of the children, a boy of about six years, was crying, but unhurt. The old man quieted the boy, speaking softly, instructing the two younger children to stay close to him and Ramon. Both nodded. Before Ramon knew what was happening the old man was helping the priest to his feet. The priest put his left arm over the old man’s shoulder and the two of them started to slowly move towards the building. Ramon never thought about what he was doing, but he followed suit with the wounded girl. Before they were halfway to the house, he saw his mother running out to meet them. She grabbed both younger children.
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