“The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do, they’re really saying I love you…”
The lyrics gently streamed from Fusner’s small radio, the last song of the day, according to Brother John, before the Armed Forces network signed off. Louis Armstrong sang the words, in his strangely awful and broken voice, the tone so warbled and deep that it sent shivers of reality straight into my heart. I felt the emotion and was surprised. I wasn’t used to feeling much of anything except fear. Macho Man knelt in front of me, deep inside the protections offered by the cleft, an expression of sadness having replaced his usual fearsome tough expression.
Jurgen’s flashlight reflected off the jagged roof edges of my darkened stifling cleft. The rain outside had returned with a vengeance, saturating the hot fetid air of the monsoon season with water, insects and tiny spots of flittering mud. The smell was sweet, with decaying vegetation and the aroma emitted by the bodies of past animal life buried under the shifting sands that formed the floor of the cave.
“They left me, Junior,” Macho Man said, the words coming out like the man’s life was exiting his body with them.