Pedro Kecil

The waves crashed against the cliffs of Nova Scotia with an almost musical rhythm, but Aria Morgan knew better. After three years of studying marine biology at the remote Blackrock Research Station, she had learned to distinguish between natural ocean sounds and something more... peculiar. Tonight, there was definitely something different in the water's song.

Standing on the observation deck of the research facility, her long dark hair whipping in the salty breeze, Aria focused her night vision binoculars on the churning waters below. The full moon cast an ethereal glow across the surface, making it easier to spot any unusual movement. That's when she saw it - a flash of iridescent scales, much too large to be any known fish species.

"You're out here late again," a deep voice spoke behind her. Dr. Nathaniel Cross, the facility's new head of cryptozoology, stood in the doorway. His presence had been causing quite a stir among the female staff since his arrival last month, with his storm-gray eyes and the mysterious scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw. But Aria had noticed something else about him - the way he always seemed to appear whenever the strange occurrences happened.

"There's something out there, Dr. Cross," Aria said, not taking her eyes off the water. "Something big."

"Please, call me Nate," he said, moving to stand beside her. His proximity sent an involuntary shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "And I know. That's why I'm here."

Before Aria could question what he meant, a haunting melody drifted up from the waters below. It wasn't quite singing - more like an otherworldly humming that seemed to resonate in her very bones. To her surprise, she found herself taking an unconscious step toward the railing, drawn by the sound.

Nate's hand shot out, gripping her arm. "Don't listen too closely," he warned, his voice tight with concern. "They're hunting tonight."

"They?" Aria tried to shake off the melody's lingering effect. "Who are 'they'?"

Just then, a figure emerged from the waves - a woman with silvery skin and long, phosphorescent hair. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural blue light, and when she opened her mouth to continue her song, Aria saw rows of sharp, pearl-like teeth. The creature's beauty was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

"Sirens," Nate whispered, his grip on Aria's arm tightening. "Real ones. Not the sanitized versions from your fairy tales."

The siren's gaze locked onto them, and her song changed, becoming more focused, more enticing. Aria felt Nate tense beside her, and when she looked at him, she was shocked to see his eyes had taken on a silvery sheen, reflecting the moonlight like a cat's.

"We need to get inside," he said through gritted teeth, though he seemed to be fighting the urge to move closer to the railing himself. "Now."

But as they turned to leave, Aria caught sight of something in the water that made her blood run cold. Dozens of glowing eyes had appeared beneath the waves, and more figures were rising to the surface. Their songs began to intertwine, creating a symphony of supernatural beauty and terror.

"Dr. Cross... Nate," Aria's voice trembled slightly. "What's really going on at this facility?"

He finally turned to look at her fully, and in the moonlight, she could see that his scar was glowing with a faint blue light. "It's not just a research station, Aria. It's a containment facility. We monitor and protect humanity from ancient creatures that most people think are myths. And right now," he glanced back at the water where more sirens were emerging, "something has disturbed them. Something that hasn't happened in over a hundred years."

"What?" Aria asked, though part of her feared the answer.

"They're looking for their lost queen," Nate's voice was grim. "And for some reason, they think she's here."

A particularly powerful wave crashed against the cliffs, sending spray high enough to reach the observation deck. As the droplets hit Aria's skin, she felt a strange tingling sensation, and for just a moment, her reflection in the window showed her eyes glowing with the same ethereal blue light as the creatures below.

Nate saw it too. His expression shifted from concern to something more complex - fear, fascination, and what looked almost like recognition. "We need to talk," he said quietly. "About your mother. About why you were really assigned to this facility. And about why you've always felt so drawn to the sea."

The siren's song grew louder, more insistent, and Aria felt something stir within her - ancient memories that couldn't possibly be her own, yet somehow were. As she followed Nate inside, one thought kept repeating in her mind: her life as she knew it was about to change forever, and there would be no going back to the simple world of marine biology and research papers.

Behind them, the sirens continued their haunting chorus, their songs now carrying a note of triumph. They had found what they were looking for.

The facility's underground laboratory was a maze of steel and glass, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look clinical and cold. Aria followed Nate through a series of security checkpoints, each requiring increasingly complex biometric scans. Her mind was still reeling from the events on the observation deck, the sirens' song echoing in her memory.

        "How long have you known?" she finally asked as they entered what appeared to be his private office. Unlike the sterile corridors outside, this room was filled with artifacts that looked ancient - shells with strange markings, crystals that seemed to pulse with their own inner light, and walls covered in charts mapping underwater ley lines.

        Nate moved to a heavily secured cabinet, his fingers dancing across a complex lock. "Since the moment you arrived at Blackrock. Your bio-readings were... unique." He pulled out a thick file with her name on it. "But your mother knew long before that."

        "My mother?" Aria's voice cracked. "She died when I was three. All I have are some photos and my father's stories about her love for the ocean."

        "Your mother didn't die, Aria." Nate's voice was gentle but firm as he placed an old photograph on his desk. "She returned."

        The photograph showed a woman standing on these very cliffs, her wild dark hair streaming in the wind. She looked exactly like Aria, except for her eyes - they held that same otherworldly blue glow Aria had seen in her own reflection moments ago.

        "That's impossible," Aria whispered, but even as she spoke, memories began to surface - the way she could hold her breath for impossibly long periods, her uncanny ability to predict storms, the strange songs that sometimes filled her dreams.

        Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a low vibration ran through the building. Nate's expression turned serious. "They're testing the barriers," he said, moving to a bank of monitors showing underwater footage. Multiple figures darted past the cameras, their movements too quick and graceful to be human.

        "What barriers?" Aria asked, joining him at the monitors.

        "Electromagnetic fields designed to keep them at bay. But with their queen so close..." He glanced at her meaningfully. "They're stronger than usual."

        "I am not their queen," Aria said firmly, though something deep inside her stirred at the words.

        "No, but you're her daughter. The first successful hybrid in centuries." Nate pulled up more files on his computer. "Your mother was their queen, and when she fell in love with your father, it created a diplomatic crisis. A siren queen choosing a human was unprecedented."

        The vibrations grew stronger, and somewhere in the facility, an alarm began to sound. On the monitors, the sirens' movements became more coordinated, more purposeful.

        "They're not just testing anymore," Nate muttered. He grabbed what looked like an ancient trident from a wall display. "They're breaking through."

        Aria's head suddenly filled with voices - not speaking English, but a fluid, musical language she somehow understood. They were calling to her, telling her to come home, to take her rightful place.

        "Make it stop," she gasped, pressing her hands to her temples.

        Nate reached for her, but stopped short when he saw her eyes - they were glowing brighter now, and her skin had taken on a slight iridescent sheen. "Fight it, Aria. You're not just one of them. You're both human and siren. That's what makes you special."

        The facility shook more violently, and the lights went out completely. In the darkness, Nate's eyes glowed silver again, and Aria could finally ask the question that had been nagging at her.

        "What are you?" she whispered. "You're not entirely human either, are you?"

        Before he could answer, the reinforced windows of his office exploded inward in a shower of glass and seawater. In the opening hovered three sirens, their beauty terrible and magnificent. The one in the center spoke, her voice carrying both authority and disdain.

        "Step away from the princess, Guardian. She belongs with her people."

        Nate raised the trident, which began to glow with an electric blue light. "She belongs where she chooses to belong."

        As seawater swirled around them, Aria felt power surge through her body - raw, ancient, and demanding to be released. She had a choice to make, but first, she needed answers.

        "Tell me everything," she said, her voice carrying a new note of command that surprised even her. "About my mother, about what you are," she looked at Nate, "and about why I'm really here."

        The siren queen smiled, showing those pearl-like teeth. "Oh, little princess. You're here because a war is coming. And you," her glow intensified, "are the key to everything."

The seawater swirling around Aria's feet felt alive, responding to her emotions like an extension of her body. The three sirens remained suspended in the shattered window frame, their ethereal forms casting an otherworldly glow throughout Nate's flooded office. The lead siren - who had introduced herself as Cordelia, First General of the Deep Realm - watched her with ancient eyes that held both wisdom and cunning.

        "Your mother's choice started this war," Cordelia said, her voice carrying the rhythm of waves. "When she chose your father, she didn't just abandon her throne - she disrupted a balance that had existed for millennia. The Deep Realm has been without a true queen for twenty years, and the dark ones grow bolder each day."

        "The dark ones?" Aria asked, acutely aware of Nate's tension beside her, his grip tightening on the glowing trident.

        "The Abyssal Court," Nate answered grimly. "Think of them as your people's darker cousins. While the sirens of the Deep Realm protect the oceans, the Abyssal Court seeks to corrupt them. Without a queen's power to maintain the barriers..."

        "They're breaking free," Cordelia finished. "Even now, they gather in the deep trenches, preparing for war. Only a queen's song can reinforce the ancient seals."

        Aria felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on her like the ocean itself. "And you think I can do this? I don't even know how to control whatever... this is." She gestured to her still-glowing skin.

        "That's why I'm here," a new voice spoke from the doorway. Aria turned to see a woman she'd only known from photographs - her mother. Nerissa, former queen of the Deep Realm, stood in the threshold, looking exactly as she had twenty years ago. Her presence made the very air vibrate with power.

        "Mom?" Aria whispered, emotions warring inside her.

        Nerissa's eyes - the same otherworldly blue as Aria's now were - filled with tears. "My daughter. My beautiful, brave daughter. I'm so sorry I had to leave you, but it was the only way to keep you safe while your powers matured."

        "Safe from what?" Aria demanded, anger suddenly surging through her. The water around her feet began to churn in response.

        "From those who would use you," Nate interjected, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. "The Guardians weren't always noble protectors, Aria. Some believed that controlling a hybrid princess would give them power over both realms."

        "Like your father did?" Nerissa's voice turned cold as she addressed Nate. "Is that why you're so close to my daughter? Following in Marcus Cross's footsteps?"

        The tension in the room sparked like electricity. Nate's silver eyes flashed dangerously. "I am not my father."

        "Enough!" Aria's voice carried a new power, making everyone in the room freeze. The water around her feet rose in spiraling columns, responding to her command. "I want the truth. All of it. No more cryptic warnings or half-answers."

        Suddenly, the facility's emergency sirens blared to life. On Nate's monitors, dark shapes appeared in the deeper waters - humanoid figures with shark-like features and glowing red eyes.

        "The Abyssal Court," Cordelia hissed. "They've found us."

        "They found her," Nerissa corrected, moving to Aria's side. "They can sense your awakening power, daughter. We're out of time."

        The facility shuddered as something massive struck it from below. Through the broken window, Aria could see dark forms rising from the depths, their movements predatory and purposeful. The water around her feet turned ice-cold.

        "You have to choose now," Nate said urgently. "But know this - whatever you decide, I'll stand with you." His eyes met hers, and in them she saw not just duty or ambition, but something deeper, something personal.

        "As touching as that is, Guardian," Cordelia interrupted, "she needs to come with us. Only in the Deep Realm can she learn to control her powers in time."

        Another impact rocked the facility. In the distance, Aria could hear screams - the research staff, she realized with horror. They were unprotected, unaware of what was really happening.

        "I won't let innocent people die," Aria declared, feeling strength flow through her. "Mom, Cordelia - help me protect the facility. Nate..." she turned to him, "teach me how to fight."

        "Always choosing both worlds," Nerissa murmured, a mix of pride and worry in her voice. "Just like your mother."

        As the Abyssal Court's forces surrounded the facility, Aria felt something click into place inside her. She was neither fully human nor fully siren, neither wholly of land nor of sea. But perhaps that's exactly what both worlds needed.

        "Well then," she said, as power coursed through her veins and the song of the sea filled her mind, "let's show these dark ones what a hybrid princess can do."

        The water around her erupted upward, turning into a swirling shield of liquid crystal, just as the first of the dark figures burst through the facility's lower levels. The war for two worlds was about to begin, and Aria stood at its center, with a Guardian at her side and the power of two realms flowing through her blood.

The next few minutes dissolved into chaos. The Abyssal Court's warriors crashed through the facility's lower levels like a dark tide, their shark-like features twisted into snarls of hunger and hatred. Aria's crystalline water shield held against the first wave, but she could feel their darkness pressing against her power, trying to corrupt it.

        "Channel your emotions through the water," Nerissa instructed, her own powers creating whirlpools that trapped several attackers. "The sea responds to authentic feeling, not just will."

        Nate moved with inhuman grace, the trident in his hands leaving trails of electric blue energy as he fought. "We need to evacuate the research staff," he called out between strikes. "They're gathering near the main lab."

        Aria closed her eyes for a moment, and suddenly she could feel every drop of water in the facility - in the pipes, in the air, in human bodies. The awareness was overwhelming. "I can feel them," she gasped. "Everyone. Everything."

        "That's your queen's sense awakening," Cordelia explained, her own song turning violent as she fought. "You're connecting to your realm."

        An explosion rocked the lower level, and through her new awareness, Aria felt something massive entering the facility. The temperature of the water dropped dramatically, and even the sirens looked concerned.

        "Thalassos," Nerissa whispered, fear evident in her voice. "The Abyssal Prince himself."

        Through the broken floor emerged a figure that seemed made of living darkness. Unlike his warriors, Prince Thalassos appeared almost human, devastatingly beautiful in a cruel way. His eyes were the color of the deepest ocean trenches, and when he smiled, his teeth gleamed like black pearls.

        "The little princess awakens," his voice was like the crushing depths given sound. "How convenient. I was afraid I'd have to wait longer to claim my bride."

        "Bride?" Aria and Nate spoke simultaneously, his voice sharp with anger, hers with shock.

        "Did they not tell you?" Thalassos moved closer, his presence making the water around him turn black. "The only way to truly end the war between our courts is through union. Your mother refused me twenty years ago. But you..." his dark eyes roamed over her face, "you're even more powerful than she was."

        Nate stepped between them, the trident glowing brighter. "She's not a prize to be claimed, Thalassos."

        The Abyssal Prince's laugh was like ice cracking. "Ah, the Guardian speaks. Tell me, son of Marcus Cross, does your protection come from duty... or jealousy?"

        Before anyone could respond, a scream echoed from the main lab. Through her water sense, Aria felt the research staff's terror as more Abyssal warriors surrounded them.

        "Choose quickly, princess," Thalassos said smoothly. "Surrender to me, and I'll spare them all. Refuse, and watch your human friends feed my warriors."

        Aria felt rage build inside her - pure, hot, and powerful. The water around her began to glow, not with her mother's blue light or Thalassos's darkness, but with a brilliant purple that seemed to combine both aspects of her nature.

        "You want an answer?" Her voice carried the crash of waves and the strength of tidepools. "Here it is."

        She thrust her hands forward, and every drop of water in the facility responded. It rose from pipes, condensed from air, pulled from the sea itself. But instead of attacking, it began to sing - a new song, neither fully siren nor fully human, but something entirely unique.

        The Abyssal warriors closest to her began to writhe, their corrupted forms starting to purify under her hybrid power. Thalassos's eyes widened in genuine surprise, then narrowed in fury.

        "Impossible," he snarled. "No one can purify the Abyssal taint!"

        "She's not no one," Nate said, pride evident in his voice. "She's both of your worlds, and neither. And that makes her stronger than either."

        Aria's song grew stronger, and she felt Nate's energy joining with hers, the Guardian's power amplifying her own. Her mother and Cordelia added their voices, creating a harmony that made the very foundations of the facility vibrate.

        But Thalassos wasn't finished. With a roar of rage, he released his own power - a wave of such absolute darkness that it threatened to swallow all light. "If I cannot have you," he growled, "then no one will!"

        The two forces met in a spectacular clash of energy. In that moment, as purple light battled primordial darkness, Aria felt something else stirring in the depths beneath the facility - something ancient and powerful, awakened by their battle.

        "The Leviathan," Nerissa breathed. "The battle... it's waking the ancient ones."

        As if in response, a deep rumble shook the entire ocean floor, and everyone - siren, human, and Abyssal alike - froze in sudden, instinctive fear.

        In the brief silence, Aria heard Nate whisper, "Whatever happens next, Aria, know that I-"

        But his words were cut off as the floor beneath them cracked open, and the true power of the deep made its presence known. The war between courts had awakened something far older and more dangerous than any of them had imagined.

        And deep in her soul, Aria knew - this was only the beginning.

BAGIAN SATU: Pedro Kecil

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BAGIAN SATU
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--$--c----D-i-&--Q-S-F-r--&-J-q-Z--,-P-
PEDRO KECIL
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Bab 1

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1
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MGERKEcKtAÉ DRAOTANFG pVaCda *harQi JRfabu unt&ukG ZmenTgekse.kusiiL ^aRya_h saSyXaH.P
Melihat ke belakang, saya seharusnya merasakan ada sesuatu yang tidak beres selama Misa pagi tiga hari sebelumnya. Khotbah perdana imam baru itu telah membuat jemaat terpecah-beberapa bosan, beberapa marah - tidak pernah menjadi pertanda baik di sebuah kota kecil Kolombia.
Ketika jemaat bangkit untuk pergi, Señor Muñoz, ayah dari pacar saya Camila, berhenti sebentar di lorong dan bersandar ke arah Papá.
'Bolehkah saya berbicara dengan Anda di luar? Sambil melirik ke arahku, ia menambahkan, 'Secara pribadi.
Sjaya jbaeJrSusciaG plimba bHeBlFasi $tfachUung datnI daslaómP masSa remaFja:S buejlHugm cFuYk(up um^urz xunctquqkm diyirkTutóser_t)aMkagn^ d.alafm$ udiwskusi or*aNngg Kdcelwa$sva, na*mxuHnf LtÉida&k Ocvuókup ,mu&dnaX quónXtdumkh lDarhiN daSn$ Vbverdmzain(.w dSeymenmtaQrmaD SoSrang-aoqranYgÉ dIeNwTaisam beWrbticara,F 'aku bkeIrdWiYrQi deYngan_ sg&emie^tar ydZi 'twanVggwaH Cge(rejkaj nber*sazmaG C!amiól)aL hdWand asWaChasbaltOku,t éPVaSliQlwlof,' Cmtenwu,nglgPuK (meareka! CsBepleSsgaiV.
Palillo, atau 'Toothpick' - yang nama aslinya Diego Hernandez - suka memancing masalah. Dan dia suka mendorong orang lain ke dalamnya, lalu berlari mengitari mereka dengan angka delapan seperti anjing di rumput panjang.
Setengah kepala lebih tinggi dari kami, ia sekarang mengalungkan lengannya di atas bahu kami, meletakkan tangannya di belakang kepala kami dan memutarnya ke arah ayah kami. Mereka sedang asyik bercakap-cakap, hanya untuk menggaruk-garuk dagu mereka dan melirik ke arah kami.
'¡Pillado! Palillo menyatakan dengan gembira. 'Kalian berdua sangat rusak!
'^JAangg&a_n $denwglaJrka(n dhial, PdeKdro,'z k'atna YCFacmiRlar,l Zm_en'gaNnSgkbaRtT ,bmashfu daaJrYi &c$erngkqewrDam!adng P&alillo.i 'JJikUa baykaQhWkqué akaaTn Umenghacdu,, vdxiaÉ yaLkajn m*eBngBatak*an sbesuatXu krepada kWami taedrhlvebinh d.afhuIl$uq.
Camila setahun lebih muda dari kami dan secantik majalah seperti biasa, meskipun mabuk dari malam sebelumnya. Sementara Palillo membuat misinya untuk mengacaukan hidupku, Camila bekerja untuk meyakinkanku. Dia memiliki cara ajaib untuk melindungiku dari dunia tanpa mengkritik orang lain.
'Mereka menatapmu, Pedro,' Palillo bersikeras.
'Pada kita semua,' aku membalas.
AkYu siaBp( meunerAiUmaM baignivanO kneAsIaÉlaathÉaynku DautÉaksL ^pestVa m*alajm s)ebesluAmKnHya,N Vmeskni!punm PBalzipllPo-lah^ Oy)anOgC &meminytMa kDami tVufrjun hke, pohJoInó ahyTuTnanv taliu, dLaind jPalivlwlJol ryangD meYm,bZerihkajn seLbYoFtoDl' rFumb lKubaO SdaYn. megnekané CFamila GunQtwuk( sBkjoxld a'h.anyGa Jsatu krawlzi MlGagiZ'X e)nam kalAi XlaógiÉ.Z
'Mereka mungkin mencoba mencari tahu siapa yang mengubur Petani Díaz,' kata Camila, menggunakan ibu jarinya untuk menghaluskan lipatan di dahiku. 'Atau membahas khotbah pendeta baru. Bukankah itu menyedihkan?
Dia terus berspekulasi. Saya terus mengerutkan kening. Aku tahu ayah Camila sangat menghargaiku. Selama aku menghormati jam malamnya dan kesucian putrinya, dia akan mentolerir aku.
Masalahnya, aku tidak mematuhi jam malam semalam. Palillo bersikeras Camila akan baik-baik saja; mereka telah melapisi perut mereka dengan susu. Dia bilang dia akan bertanggung jawab secara pribadi. Tetapi pada pukul sepuluh, akulah yang ditinggalkan dengan pacar yang mabuk dan berjuang melawan dilema: mengantarnya pulang tepat waktu tetapi tersandung mabuk, atau menunggu sampai dia setidaknya agak sadar. Dari jendelanya, Señor Muñoz melihat saya terlambat dua jam.
'KetdahUuZan,Y'l g*eurmtóaGkm SPaltibl!lo,, SberOsaAnMdaÉr tKeépGat &kPeX wajah^ku Ydan Nmen!ggPejlGityiMkU TpQipWigku) Cd_enbgan 'jJaÉri-jaGrinyka FyRangi *paónjaIngk dAaqnv hitna,mW.q
'Persetan! Aku berkata, menampar tangannya. 'Aku akan pergi.
'Tidak mungkin! Mereka akan menyalibkanmu.
'Ya, benar sekali. Awasi aku!
Ak'uH tbennqci orangg yaxnPgn meno!lsaky uNntukm mYenglhaHdOapiP wsesuwatuj. AkOuó qmOeSldanwgk^ahO ke para*h VamyaTh Uka'mi, (decngan ypenuhó ck.ebearRan*ivanq VkFagrenóa CbammiplkaI WsedangX meRn(oUntolnz.Y
'Selamat pagi, Señor Muñoz'. Saya menyapa ayah Camila dengan sopan, menjabat tangannya.
'Pedro'. Dia mengangguk dan memaksakan senyum.
'Apakah ada yang salah, Papa? Saya bertanya.
'Kittap aVkatnO kmzembhathNahsnyMaK jnIaNnti), $hyikjco.'
Kedua pria itu sekarang menatapku tanpa berkedip. Meskipun dikalahkan oleh orang dewasa, saya kembali menang di hadapan teman-teman sebaya saya, yang menatap saya dengan penuh tanda tanya atas kesimpulan saya.
'Ayah Camila tahu dia minum-minum tapi dia tidak mengadu,' kataku dengan yakin.
'Sudah kubilang!' kata Camila.
'fAppa JsebCentarAn_ya yapn*g meJrekaB k)a.takPann?'$ FtdanyvaC tPaYlilxlOo d_atar,v GmbelFipcat ItaznIghaPnn.yak. A_kJu dtIiPdak tTahPuP ap)aPkóah Gdcia ttMidaké yNaYkBinb aItaJuH Yha'nya) kePcFewa_.
'Bukan apa pun yang mereka katakan. Aku hanya bisa tahu. Mereka sedang mendiskusikan bisnis kota. Itu politis.
Papa memberi isyarat bahwa sudah waktunya untuk pergi. Aku mencium Camila selamat tinggal dan mengantar kami pulang. Mamaku bersama kami, jadi Papaku masih belum bisa menyebutkan apa yang salah.
Percakapan Papa dengan Señor Muñoz di tangga gereja hari itu hanyalah yang terbaru dari serangkaian tanda peringatan yang mulai berkumpul seperti burung nasar yang berputar-putar lambat di atas hewan yang terluka. Pertama, bom silinder pukul 3.30 pagi yang menghujani jalan utama Llorona sebulan sebelumnya. Kedua, penguburan malam hari secara sembunyi-sembunyi atas Petani Díaz, yang diculik dan kemudian dibunuh oleh Gerilyawan. Dan ketiga, peluru yang menembus jendela kaca patri gereja yang telah mendorong pemindahan pendeta tua itu ke Bogotá untuk alasan keamanan pribadi.
ItuR sKeBmcuha iagdzamlSa^h be&ritna *bels,ar. Skemuany^aw Cbae.rhCuÉbuAnOgaunJ.C D,aqn' ósebmpuamnya Cmengjarrah !padUa s,e.suxa^tu jy.ang .lreMb*ih( bneCsOa'rt.h

Bab 2 (1)

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2
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S^ACYUA TIDAK YqAKJInN ObIaHgXaiÉmIan'af ovrcang tuDa Ns!aFyaj b'erhbasil mierBaGhasiéawkuaAn perangA diaari sPajya beDgiytpu dlCaxmYav,l bthetJaLpJib Smkereqka beUrhaUsilW.H
Tentu saja, saya memiliki kesadaran yang samar-samar tentang apa yang sedang terjadi dari desas-desus yang saya dengar di sekolah, tembakan tengah malam yang menurut orang tua saya adalah guntur, dan ketegangan dalam perpisahan Mamá setiap kali saya mengendarai sepeda ke kota.
Saya tahu bahwa gerilyawan itu ada. Dan saya tahu mereka melawan tentara pemerintah. Selama jam istirahat sekolah dasar, kami bermain soldado dan guerrillero, menggunakan tongkat sebagai senjata dan batu sebagai granat. Kami menggambar bilah rumput karena tidak ada yang ingin menjadi tentara.
Menurut teman-teman sekelas saya, para guerrillero adalah orang-orang baik. Di pedesaan, mereka menculik pemilik tanah yang kaya dan mendistribusikan uang tebusan kepada petani. Di kota-kota, mereka menggali terowongan ratusan meter di bawah tanah ke dalam gudang-gudang tentara untuk mencuri senjata dan mereka membajak truk-truk susu, yang botol-botolnya mereka bagikan kepada orang-orang di daerah kumuh.
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Llorona adalah sebuah kota sungai kecil namun makmur yang terletak di lembah yang landai di provinsi Vichada, Kolombia. Lebih jauh ke selatan adalah Amazon Peru dan lebih jauh ke timur, pegunungan dan hutan Venezuela dan Brasil. Saya tinggal di sana sejak usia empat tahun ketika kami kehilangan segalanya dan pindah dari Armero.
Llorona memiliki sebuah gereja, garnisun polisi yang penuh peluru, dan lapangan sepak bola berdebu yang berfungsi ganda sebagai halaman sekolah dasar. Alun-alun pusat memiliki empat bangku kayu yang menghadap ke dalam di mana para lelaki tua duduk memberi makan merpati dan bermain catur. Toko-toko yang dikelola keluarga terletak di sepanjang Avenida Independencia, jalan utama dan satu-satunya yang tertutup rapat. Itu adalah kota kecil, tetapi kota yang luar biasa, setidaknya bagi mata saya yang polos.
Ketika saya berusia sepuluh tahun, saya tersandung selama permainan soldado dan guerrillero di akhir pekan dengan Palillo dalam pengejaran penuh. Saya duduk bergoyang-goyang di atas paha, memeluk tulang kering saya yang tergores dan menatap darah. Kemudian aku mulai membersihkan kotoran, mengutuk Palillo yang menyebabkan jatuhnya aku.
PaMpaa *tJutru$n tlaxnZgan.
'Biarkan saja!' katanya. 'Berdirilah, hijo.
Saat aku berdiri, aku mengarahkan tongkat pistol kesayanganku ke Palillo. Papá meraih ujungnya dan mengalihkan bidikanku seolah-olah itu adalah senjata sungguhan. Ia menjelaskan bahwa perang bukanlah sebuah permainan. Selama lebih dari satu dekade, katanya, gerilyawan telah menguasai tiga desa sungai di selatan Llorona. Tentara menguasai Garbanzos, kota besar terdekat. Tapi Llorona berbeda. Tentara berpatroli di dalam perimeter kota; Gerilyawan menguasai pedesaan di sekitarnya. Selama bertahun-tahun, pihak-pihak yang bertikai telah mencapai gencatan senjata informal: Gerilyawan tidak menyerang Llorona dan tentara tidak mencari mereka atau kamp mereka. Finca, atau pertanian kami, berjarak empat kilometer dari plaza. Dengan demikian, kami tinggal di daerah abu-abu di perbatasan antara dua musuh dan harus menghadapi tekanan dari kedua kelompok.
Setelah penjelasan Papa, saya mulai melihat segala sesuatunya dengan benar. Saya selalu mengira bahwa tentara yang melintasi tanah kami berasal dari batalion tentara di Garbanzos. Beberapa dari mereka memang demikian, tetapi yang lain adalah anggota musuh tentara, Gerilya komunis. Tentara dan Gerilyawan tampak serupa. Keduanya memiliki potongan rambut pendek, mengenakan seragam dan topi kamuflase hijau, dan membawa senapan. Papa, yang selalu menyuruhku masuk ke dalam setiap kali mereka datang, sekarang aku tetap berada di sampingnya.
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Ketika saya berusia sebelas tahun, selama penjualan ternak musim semi, saya melihat ayah saya berdebat dengan komandan keuangan gerilya, Zorrillo. Aku datang untuk mengakhiri perselisihan itu dan tutup mulut seperti yang telah diajarkan kepadaku. Perselisihan itu berakhir dengan Papaku menyerahkan uang tunai.
"Apakah mereka bekerja untukmu? Aku bertanya ketika dua belas orang pasukan Zorrillo telah pergi.
'Sebaliknya,' jawabnya datar. Ketika marah, daripada berteriak, Papá menjadi sinis.
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'Mereka memvaksinasi kita terhadap apa?
'Peluru mereka sendiri,' jawab Papá.
Dari Papalah saya mewarisi sarkasme saya. Romo Rojas, pastor kota dan sahabat Papaku, sering mengatakan bahwa ayahku adalah seorang Katolik yang taat dengan sinisme seorang ateis.
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Selama tahun terakhir saya di sekolah dasar Llorona, Gerilyawan menyuruh kami menghadiri pertemuan komunitas di mana Zorrillo - komandan yang memaksa Papá menyerahkan uang tunai - berpidato tentang korupsi pemerintah, keadilan sosial, dan hak yang sama untuk semua orang.

Bab 2 (2)

'Llorona setidaknya memiliki saluran telepon dan listrik,' kata Zorrillo. Tetapi lima kilometer lebih jauh ke selatan, di Puerto Galan, dia mengingatkan kami, saluran telepon tiba-tiba berhenti. Tidak ada pengumpulan sampah. Tidak ada kantor polisi. Tidak ada gedung pengadilan. Tidak ada rumah sakit. Hanya jalan tanah dan gubuk-gubuk kayu beratap seng. Sepuluh kilometer ke selatan, di Puerto Princesa, tentara gerilya dipaksa berdiri di sudut-sudut jalan dan menengahi perselisihan. Di seberang sungai di Santo Paraíso, bahkan tidak ada jalan tanah. Hanya lumpur, jalur keledai dan industri kokain yang berkembang pesat.
Mama tidak suka saya berbicara dengan tentara gerilya yang melintasi tanah kami. Dia sangat melindungiku sejak kakak perempuanku, Daniela, meninggal dalam tanah longsor ketika aku berusia empat tahun. Saya tidak terlalu ingat kakak perempuan saya; namun, menurut Papá, Mamá tidak pernah melupakannya. Dia jarang menyebut-nyebut tentang Daniela - dan dia telah menurunkan foto-foto berbingkai karena foto-foto itu terlalu menyakitkan untuk diingat - tetapi kadang-kadang saya menemukannya di dapur, berdiri diam dan menangis tanpa alasan yang jelas.
Kebijakan terbaik untuk menghadapi gerilyawan, menurut Mamá, adalah dengan tidak melihat apa pun, tidak mendengar apa pun, dan tentu saja tidak mengatakan apa pun. Ini dikenal sebagai La Ley de Silencio - Hukum Keheningan. Hukum ini berlaku di Llorona dan sebagian besar desa-desa Kolombia. Tentara memiliki nama yang sama untuk itu. Mereka menyebutnya Hukum Shakira, sesuai dengan lagu popnya yang berjudul 'Tuli, Bisu dan Buta'.
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Jadi, yang terbaik adalah bersikap pasti pada fakta-fakta tetapi samar-samar pada detailnya. Di pedesaan Kolombia, ketidakjelasan yang pasti adalah pekerjaan penuh waktu. Papa menasihati saya untuk selalu mengatakan yang sebenarnya, tetapi untuk berhenti sejenak dan berpikir sebelum menjawab. Karena jika Anda tidak berhenti sejenak sebelum jawaban yang mudah seperti nama Anda, maka jeda Anda setelah pertanyaan sulit akan lebih terlihat.
Baik tentara maupun gerilyawan akan bertanya apakah Anda memiliki susu, beras, gula atau minyak goreng untuk cadangan. Kadang-kadang bahkan air. Mereka sangat sopan tentang hal itu.
'Jika tidak terlalu merepotkan ...' mereka mungkin akan memulai. Seolah-olah kepatuhan itu sukarela dan tidak apa-apa untuk menolak. Tetapi tidak ada yang sukarela tentang bantuan ketika orang yang memintanya mengacungkan AK47 dengan jarinya mengetuk-ngetuk pelatuknya.
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Pengkhianat jika Anda melakukannya, pembohong jika tidak. Bagaimanapun juga Anda benar-benar jodido.
Itulah yang tidak dimengerti oleh orang asing dan orang-orang dari kota besar. Tidak peduli seberapa keras Anda mencoba, Anda tidak bisa tetap netral. Pada akhirnya, kamu harus memilih satu sisi. Dan jika tidak, salah satu akan dipilihkan untuk Anda. Seperti yang terjadi pada saya.

Bab 3

------------------------
3
------------------------
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Seminggu sebelumnya, Papa mengetuk pintu kamarku dengan pelan pada tengah malam.
'Kau sudah bangun?' bisiknya.
'Sí.'
'B'erp(ak'aiuanlahh denFganF ten$aÉn_gH!U JqaMnCgaÉn bdanwgqudnkIajn iVbubmnu. MepshkipDuqnL meng!aSnntuk,& sKaya m*eIlSompaÉt dzagri! .tVerm,pats &tXiÉdurA saZat mievndeóngéar kDa&ta-fkIa*tanyba.é 'cAku Qbyutfu&h iba_ntuanmui.
Bahaya dan petualangan tidak menarik bagiku seperti halnya bagi Palillo. Namun, membantu Papá dan berbagi rahasia dengannya.
'Kemana kita akan pergi? Aku bertanya, mencoba terdengar santai.
'Untuk melakukan beberapa pekerjaan.'
'P_eke&rjéafan bsZeperUtéi aJpGal?K'
'Pekerjaan orang lain.
Papa tidak pernah mengkritik orang secara langsung; ia mengatakan bahwa itu tidak kristiani. Sebaliknya, ia menjadi samar-samar. Saya tidak tahu apa yang dimaksudnya dengan 'pekerjaan orang lain'. Hanya di garasi, ketika ia meletakkan terpal biru, dua obor dan sekop di dalam bak truk Mazda kami, saya baru bisa menebak apa yang terjadi: kami akan mengubur Petani Díaz.
Industri utama kami di Llorona adalah pertanian, peternakan dan perdagangan sungai. Tanah yang subur, curah hujan yang tinggi dan iklim semitropis membuatnya ideal untuk pisang, granadillas dan guanábanas. Llorona adalah kota yang kaya, meskipun, jika dilihat dari penampilannya, tidak ada seorang pun yang memiliki uang. Ketakutan akan penculikan dan pemerasan oleh gerilyawan membuat para jutawan berpura-pura miskin.
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Pada orang-orang tertentu, seperti tetangga kami Humberto Díaz, ancaman penculikan memunculkan kikir dalam diri mereka. Meskipun Díaz menghadiri gereja, Papa hanya punya sedikit waktu untuknya. Dia memiliki seribu hektar dengan tujuh ratus ekor ternak, tetapi bahkan sebelum gerilya vacunas dia memiliki reputasi untuk menambahkan kotoran ke karung kentang untuk meningkatkan beratnya dan menggunakan timbangan yang dilubangi pada timbangannya. Ketika para pekerjanya menuntut bayaran mereka, dia akan mengangkat bahu dan berkata, 'Tidak ada uang'. Ketika mereka berhenti, dia hanya akan mempekerjakan pekerja baru dan melakukan hal yang sama.
Bodohnya, Díaz bersikeras bahwa ia tidak bisa membayar para gerilyawan. Sebagai kompromi, mereka menawarkan untuk menerima ternak atau tanaman sebagai gantinya, tetapi dia menolak untuk menyerahkan bahkan satu anak sapi pun, menyatakan bahwa ternaknya digadaikan ke bank. Gerilyawan menemukan bahwa dia berbohong dan mengirim pasukan untuk mengepung propertinya.
'Komandan Botero ingin berbicara dengan Anda,' kata pemimpin regu, sambil menggiringnya keluar dari finca-nya. 'Ayo pergi!
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Humberto Díaz bahkan tidak diizinkan untuk membawa pakaian ganti. Malam itu gerilyawan menelepon istrinya, Eleonora, untuk mengatakan bahwa mereka akan menahannya sampai dia membayar. Meskipun Papá membenci penculikan, dia mengatakan bahwa Gerilyawan tidak punya pilihan. Jika cukup banyak orang mengikuti jejak Díaz, kelas sosial yang tidak diinginkan akan muncul - kaum miskin nouveau - yang anggotanya dengan sengaja mengecilkan kekayaan mereka demi penampilan sosial. Lalu di mana kita akan berada?
Romo Rojas benar: bagi seorang Katolik yang berpikiran serius, Papa bisa sangat sarkastik.
Gerilyawan memulai penawaran dengan harga satu juta dolar. Tebusan sering kali dalam dolar AS. Meskipun komunis membenci Amerika Utara, setidaknya mata uang mereka stabil. Desas-desus menyebar bahwa Eleonora Díaz menolak membayar jumlah itu, malah membalas dengan seratus ribu dolar - bukti lebih lanjut bahwa kemiskinan suaminya adalah palsu. Biasanya, gerilyawan akan menahannya lebih lama untuk menegosiasikan harga yang lebih baik. Sekali menyandera, mereka tidak pernah terburu-buru. Tetapi kali ini mereka merespon dengan mengeksekusi Díaz.
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Ketika Papa mendengar berita itu, ia berhenti membuat lelucon. Dia duduk dengan murung di meja makan, menggelengkan kepalanya. Dalam konflik yang telah berlangsung puluhan tahun, kami telah mencapai titik terendah baru: tidak ada pihak yang pernah menghalangi penguburan orang mati.
Saat masih hidup, Humberto Díaz bukanlah orang yang dicari ayah saya. Namun, dalam keadaan mati, ayah tidak punya pilihan selain menolongnya. Prinsip-prinsip agamanya melarangnya meninggalkan seorang anggota jemaat tanpa dikuburkan. Jadi itulah sebabnya kami pergi ke sungai setelah tengah malam, bersenjatakan dua obor, terpal biru dan sekop.
Kami menemukan Díaz di tikungan S, di mana nelayan telah menunjukkannya. Dia dipenuhi lalat dan belatung. Saya tidak merasa mual, karena pernah menyembelih sapi dan melihat mayat sebelumnya, tetapi saya jijik dengan apa yang telah dilakukan gerilyawan itu.
'óMXecngbafpa taijdÉak m&erngLubuórkanNnyla (d'i sJini?' tqaqnyCa ^sZayaó ke^tikaó kaXmiz mbenCgbguvluynkg^ GD(íazM ddi terr!paWlt d&an émuenpyeret.nqy!a bkGembVali_ ke tHruckb.
'Tanpa penguburan Katolik yang layak di tanah yang disucikan, seseorang tidak mungkin masuk surga.
Dari cara Humberto Díaz bertindak di dunia, saya tidak menyukai peluangnya. Tapi setidaknya kami akan mencobanya.
Pukul 2 pagi kami sampai di pemakaman gereja. Saya memegang obor sementara Papa membongkar tanah. Sambil berkeringat saat ia menggali, ia menyeka keningnya berulang kali. Beberapa kali saya mengulurkan tangan saya untuk mengambil sekop, tetapi ia membuka bajunya dan melambaikan tangan saya. Dalam cahaya obor yang pucat dan berkedip-kedip, otot-ototnya seperti potongan-potongan tali di bawah selembar kain.
'qPVenÉgeQcutc,'i bgumaa^mbnNyfaz kedtji*ka penggaÉl,i&anI skejmaTkuinq Lmaembuir&utk.. G'QPeKngkecut!X
Pada awalnya saya pikir maksudnya adalah Gerilyawan yang membunuh Humberto Díaz dan tidak mengungkapkan keberadaannya.
'Pengecut!' katanya lagi, dan barulah saya menyadari bahwa yang dimaksudnya adalah anak-anak Díaz. Javier dan Fabian berusia dua puluhan. Seharusnya merekalah yang melakukan ini.
Kami menurunkan jenazah ke dalam kuburan. Papa menyerahkan sekop kepada saya. Senang karena akhirnya saya bisa membantu, saya mulai menyendok tanah kembali.
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Papa mengetuk pintu pendeta dengan pelan, tetapi kembali tanpa menunggu pintu itu terbuka. Penting bagi Humberto Díaz untuk dipuji Tuhan. Tetapi juga penting bahwa Romo Rojas dapat menyangkal telah melihat siapa pun yang menurunkan mayat itu. Papa tidak berpikir sesuatu akan terjadi pada pastor itu. Pada tahap perang itu, kelompok-kelompok bersenjata masih berpura-pura menghormati gereja.
Dengan keluarnya jenazah Díaz dari kendaraan kami, bahaya telah berlalu. Papa melemparkan kunci mobil kepadaku. Kami tiba di rumah dengan selamat. Tidak ada yang melihat kami dan tidak ada yang melihat Padre Rojas melakukan penguburan. Kami berhasil lolos. Hampir saja.