|Christ of Abu Ghraib by Trill Zapatero|
The men sat on the hill, looking out over the darkened city.
“Look. Only you can know this. Tell no-one else. When it is done, you must flee.” He didn’t look at his friend, his face was drawn. His friend was not used to seeing him as he had been in the past few days. Serious, stressed even. Gone were the smiles and the serenity of the campaign. From the day they had arrived in the city, all had changed. The campaign had taken a new turn. Was this the end-game?
He stood up and faced his friend. If this was the end-game, then it should be on their terms. “The only way we can rid our lands of this dreadful, exploitative system is to make allies and together we can rise up!”
His friend shook his head and looked at him. He signalled for him to sit, to calm. “Believe me, what I have planned will mean the power of money will be diminished forever. We have shown through our actions and our activism that the only way for mankind to survive is for us to work together. To be as one. To share.” He clasped his hands and pointed them towards the other man. “ To make sure the weakest and most vulnerable have opportunity and the essentials in life. The Imperialist Occupier's system only brings poverty, greed, envy and betrayal.”
His friend was not for calming. His voice rose to almost a shout, “No! We must take up arms!
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