Braco by Lesleyanne Ryan

nodded.
    â€œTell him to stay close,” Jac said to the woman. “And tell him not to pull it out.”
    â€œYes, yes.” The woman translated Jac’s message and then she placed a rag against the little girl’s head.
    The boy returned and tried to scale the carrier again. Jac pulled him off just as the vehicle slowed and stopped. Sergeant Janssen climbed out of his hatch and waved to the crowd.
    â€œTo Potocari. To Potocari.”
    He wiped his brow, took a long swig on a bottle of water, and dropped back into the hatch. The vehicle lurched forward. Maarten waited until the vehicle moved ahead and then walked with Jac.
    â€œKnow where we are?”
    Jac gazed forwards; he recognized the stretch of road. The shoulder dropped off steeply on the left and on the right a rock face skirted the edge of the road. The narrow passage forced the refugees to squeeze into the tight space. Some ran ahead of Jac and the carrier, others waited to fall in behind.
    â€œYeah,” Jac replied. “We’re almost home.”
    Maarten patted Jac on the back and walked ahead, moving in front of the carrier.
    Jac checked his watch. Just one more hour, he thought. The refugees would be safe and he could finally lapse into a coma and dream of the bedroom he hadn’t seen in seven months. The double bed with clean sheets and a thick quilt his mother had made for him.
    Warm. Secure. Safe.
    Another mortar struck above the rock face. Jac ducked then straightened up and glanced around. The carrier stopped and the sergeant climbed out of his hatch. Erik motioned to Jac.
    â€œIt’s a boy,” he shouted over the engine.
    â€œWhat?
    The moon lit up Erik’s smile.
    â€œThe pregnant woman. She just had a boy.”
    Jac had just started to return the smile when the sky above Erik turned red. A tracer round split the air directly above the gunner and ricocheted against the rock wall. Another followed; five rounds struck the cliff for every tracer that lit up the sky. Bodies rolled from the carrier like logs falling off the side of a lumber truck. Flailing arms struck Jac in the face and he fell backwards. People fell on top of him. Some scrambled up and ran. Others remained still.
    â€œGet inside!” Erik yelled. He disappeared inside his hatch.
    Jac climbed to his feet and ducked around the back of the carrier. He slipped on something wet and fell hard, his helmet catching on a metal corner. The hatch swung open. A pair of arms slid in under Jac’s and scooped him up. Maarten pushed him through the opening. Karel brought up the rear, slamming the hatch closed.
    Metallic pings peppered the side of the vehicle.
    A baby cried.
    Jac crawled over the mass of arms and legs. Sweat blurred his vision. His arm slipped between two bodies. His head hit a torso. He struggled to pull an arm up, using someone’s knee as leverage. He finally yanked it free and grabbed a strap hanging from the roof, pulling himself forward. He reached the front of the passenger compartment and rubbed his vision clear with his towel. A flashlight stabbed through the darkness and Jac caught a glimpse of the sergeant safely in his seat.
    â€œThey’re shooting at us,” Jac shouted to anyone who would listen.
    â€œWe have to move,” someone else shouted from behind. “If they put mortars on us, they’ll kill them all.”
    â€œGet out of here,” another voice added to the noise.
    Jac hauled his helmet off and wiped more sweat from his face. Erik listened to the sergeant over his headset. Then the gunner gave a thumbs up and climbed back into his hatch where he had some protection. Jac tugged on Erik’s pants.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œThey’re shooting at us,” Erik shouted from above. “We have to move or the Serbs will cut the crowd to pieces.”
    Jac heard the vehicle’s horn and light filtered in from Erik’s hatch as the carrier’s headlights flooded