Free Erased Faces by Graciela Limón

is Coronel Insurgente Orlando Flores.”
    Juana paused as she looked at the officer, and her face took on a serious expression showing respect as she introduced the Lacandón rebel. She then went on to name the other insurgents.
    After that she helped Adriana with her gear and showed her where she would stay. It was a
palapa
, like the one she had in Pichucalco. Here, too, was a cot with a net covering as well as a basin and water jug placed on top of a small table. Adriana understood that she was being shown privilege because she had already noted that the rest, males and females, inhabited the long, open huts along the fringe of the camp, and that they slept in hammocks.
    From there Juana took her to the stream that skirted the living area and pointed to a bend where a waterfall churned up foam and spray. Then she showed her to the outhouses and to the communal kitchen. Everyone, she explained, helped with the cooking, cleaning and laundry. After the tour of the grounds, they returned to the
palapa
.
    â€œFor now, rest and get used to your new base. Tell me what you need, and I’ll see that you get it. I’ll show you what we do tomorrow.”
    Adriana gazed at Juana. She again felt a strong pull toward her, compounded now by a sense that something dangerous was about to unleash itself on the camp. She hesitated, not knowing if she had the right to ask, fearing that her question might sound like prying. After a few moments of wavering, she spoke up.
    â€œJuana, what’s happening?”
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œI felt that something was wrong from the first moments with the group. The
compañeros
appear apprehensive.”
    Juana, with her usual directions, did not delay her answer. She looked at Adriana, head tilted to one side, allowing her face to show her thoughts. “Two policemen were killed. It was a brutal murder. They were mutilated and cut into pieces. Now the
catxul
blame our people; thirteen men from the canyons have been arrested. We have no doubt that they will be tortured and killed.”
    Juana’s terse words had a deep effect on Adriana. She understood that the violence she had feared was already staring at her with unblinking eyes. Despite the little knowledge she had of the insurgents and her lack of awareness of their plans, she knew that they were at a crossroad.
    â€œThe Bishop has called for a rally. It’s to take place up there, in the canyons,” said Juana, jutting her jaw, pointing in an upward direction.
    Then Juana tapped Adriana’s shoulder to let her know that she had nothing more to say. She turned and walked away, heading for the center of the compound.
    Adriana stood looking at her until she disappeared into a hut. She wondered if Juana was experiencing a similar inner turmoil. In her mind, Adriana examined every detail, every gesture of Juana’s, trying to discover a hint of what the woman thought of her, felt for her, but only the sensation of Juana’s arms around her as she fell asleep prevailed.
    Intense heat and humidity had now taken hold of the jungle. Adriana felt sweat seeping through her clothes and socks. She tried to put aside her discomfort as she rummaged through her backpack looking for her note pad. When she found it, she went to the small table and began to record her thoughts, observations and feelings.
    She noted the impact Juana was having on her and the confusion that was gripping her, as well as the unaccountable joy she was experiencing. With equal detail, she noted her fears and her admiration for the fierce determination she had detected in the insurgents. When she finished, Adriana reread her notes and absentmindedly mouthed a faint
yes
.
    She sat at the rickety table for a while, allowing her thoughts to focus on the insurgents. Like vivid photographs, each face was etched in her mind, and she again felt apprehensive, understanding the magnitude of their mission. Again, Adriana wondered if she had the