Lies We Guard

The wind of Northern Exile always carried sand; my hand gripping the patrol baton turned white at the knuckles. A teammate's voice came through the walkie-talkie, reporting illegal immigrants spotted at Westwind Bluff. I sprinted toward that direction, and from afar I saw a curled-up figure, wearing a dark coat stained with mud, like a piece of cloth discarded by the wind. "Don't move!" I raised my gun and stepped forward, my voice as cold as the frost on the border. The man slowly raised his head. The gun in my hand wavered slightly. It was Ethan Lewis. Five years had passed; a scar now ran from his brow bone to his jawline, yet those eyes were just as piercingly bright as ever. "Taylor." He spoke, his voice hoarse and uncertain. A buzzing sound echoed in my mind as memories surged forth. "Who said you could call me Taylor?" I stepped forward and seized his collar. His arm was wrapped in bandages, bleeding through—likely wounded during the illegal crossing. "I have been searching for you for five years." He looked at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I could not decipher, "Why did you not keep our appointment back then?" "Appointment?" I laughed, a laugh steeped in hatred, "Ethan, how dare you speak of an appointment?" I remembered Frank lying in a pool of blood, the darkness of the dungeon, the gunshot wound on my leg. Rage flared like fire; I raised my hand and twisted his injured arm with brutal force. Crack— the sound of bone breaking rang out sharply in the wind. He uttered a muffled grunt, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, yet he did not push me away. "Taylor, please let me explain..." "Explain what?" I drew my pistol from my waist and pressed the muzzle against his forehead. "Explain why you shot me all those years ago. Explain why Frank died." My hand trembled; Frank's smiling face flashed before my eyes, along with that rainy night five years ago. The bullet in the gun seemed to burn like fire, yet I could not pull the trigger. I closed my eyes for a moment, holstered the gun, and spoke into the walkie-talkie: "There's an illegal immigrant here. Bring him back." Before my teammate arrived, Ethan broke free from my restraints and fled. Before running away, he glanced back at me one last time, his eyes brimming with grievance and defiance.