Strix
Vitória! Vitória!
- May 7, 2019
- 735
The morning sun's rays seeps in to the cracks of the old walls. The house itself was small, with only one single room. A wooden table with 2 chairs were set in the middle, a few plates left unwashed. The windows were bent and broken, suggesting that the structure was abandoned long ago. The floorboards were covered in dust, and every once in a while a few rats would scurry over. Despite all of that however, a faint noise was heard near a window sill. An old radio, seemingly working, plays a few songs from Portugal's rebellious past. A middle aged man of average build entered the little shack. Wearing typical worker's clothes, he placed his hat on the dust-coated table. Leaning near the radio, he takes a look outside and waited as the music fills the ambience.
Later on, another person would enter the room. He was wearing a green flat clap, with the Portuguese Communist Party's insignia upfront. He approaches and proceeds to hand him a small envelope. The two exchange looks as they part ways. "Glória à república, Glória à revolução."
It wasn't long before a small van approached the abandoned house. Plumes of dust rose as the vehicle made its way near the entrance. A few young men were waiting near the door frame, smoking a few cigarettes. The van stopped and an old man wearing a trench coat got out of the passenger side. He looks around before saluting to the men stationed near the entrance. The men salute back as they stand in attention, cigarettes still at hand. The old man motions towards the van's back doors and orders them to transfer the crates. As the young men grumble and make their way to the van, he enters the house alone.
"Comrade Leonardo, I greet you warmly. I have decided that your outpost would be a temporary cache for the next few batches. Surely Faro hasn't noticed?"
Leonardo would stand in attention and face the old man. He noticed the man's trench coat, tattered and torn. He wore a pair of old decommissioned boots, along with brown wool gloves. His face adorned with a large scar on his cheek.
"Comrade Hermínio, the pleasure is all yours. Just assure me that these would be moved out once the warehouse has been secured."
"Of course, 2 more vans would arrive in the next following days. Glory to the Republic, Glory to the Revolution."
"Glory to the Republic, Glory to the revolution."
Herminio would exit the building and would wave to the young men carrying crates to the cellar down below. The crates were labeled with names of pipes and construction material. He would enter the van and wait for them to finish. After a few minutes, the doors would close, and the van would make it's way through the dirt path. The young men would then close the cellar doors, sealing them tight with an old lock. They would return to their posts, talking quietly among themselves.