Even Silence Has an End Part 40

They mustn't see us having long conversations. Within the FARC, everybody told on everyone else. Their surveillance system was based on snitching.

Ma.s.simo was very frightened. Efren had reported us, saying that he saw us speaking and found our behavior odd. Ma.s.simo was called before Enrique. He claimed we'd been discussing the Pacific coast, a region I knew well, and Enrique swallowed his story. But Ma.s.simo was being watched, and he was less and less eager to leave.

He came that night to my caleta, caleta, making a horrible crackling sound walking over the dry branches. He had boots for me. making a horrible crackling sound walking over the dry branches. He had boots for me. This is my guarantee, This is my guarantee, I thought as I listened to him. I thought as I listened to him.

"The situation is tough. All the boats are locked up for the night. The GPS that Enrique sometimes lends us isn't working."

"The guy's not serious," said Pinchao, the next morning. "We have to leave now, before he sounds the alert."

"I can't leave now," said Lucho. "My heart feels weak. I don't think I could make it, running through the forest with those guys on our heels. If Ma.s.simo comes with us, that's different. He knows how to survive, we'll be okay."

When Pinchao came to see me on that April 28, 2007, with his spool of neatly rolled thread and the fabric of the pants ready to be cut, I was overcome by an inexplicable sadness.

"Thank you so much, my dear Pinchao. You've done a h.e.l.l of a job."

"No, I have to thank you. You gave me something to do. You helped me to cure my boredom."

He looked me right in the eye, the way he did whenever he was going to confess something to me.

"If I leave tonight, then, I take the path toward the banadero banadero82 and then I take the boat they left moored in the little pond and head down the river, right?" he said. and then I take the boat they left moored in the little pond and head down the river, right?" he said.

"If you leave tonight, you'd better not take the boat in the little pond, because they've put a guard on duty, deliberately. You should leave from your caleta caleta and cross the guards' perimeter." and cross the guards' perimeter."

"They'll see me."

"Not if you go across when they change s.h.i.+fts. The relevante relevante will go past with the relief, one post after the other a.s.signing each guard to his place; but the first one, the one he'll take himself and which is just opposite your will go past with the relief, one post after the other a.s.signing each guard to his place; but the first one, the one he'll take himself and which is just opposite your caleta, caleta, that post will be empty for two minutes while he finishes his round." that post will be empty for two minutes while he finishes his round."

"And then?"

"And then you'll go straight ahead into the manigua. manigua. Not too far-otherwise you'll end up in their camp. Say maybe a dozen yards or so, just far enough to hide your footsteps. If it's raining, make a sharp turn to the left to get away from our enclosure and then left again to go around us and reach the river, farther than their boats and the little pond." Not too far-otherwise you'll end up in their camp. Say maybe a dozen yards or so, just far enough to hide your footsteps. If it's raining, make a sharp turn to the left to get away from our enclosure and then left again to go around us and reach the river, farther than their boats and the little pond."

He waited for me to go on.

"And then you put your empty bottles on and you let the current carry you as far as you can before you get cramps. Remember to swim, to move. It will help you."

"And if I get cramps?"

"You've got your flotation device, you let them pa.s.s. And you get over to the sh.o.r.e and get out."

"And I get out and walk straight ahead."

"Yes, and be careful where you put your feet. Try to get out where there's a bed of leaves, or in the mangrove. You have to make absolutely sure not to leave any traces."

"Okay."

"Wring out your clothes, set up your compa.s.s, and walk due north."

He listened.

"Stop every forty-five minutes and take a good look around. And use the time to call upstairs, so that he'll give you a hand."

"I don't believe in G.o.d."

"It doesn't matter, he won't be offended. You can call him anyway. If he doesn't reply, call Mary-she's always available."

He smiled.

"Pinchillo83 I don't like this place, it gives me goose b.u.mps. I feel almost as if it is cursed. . . ." I don't like this place, it gives me goose b.u.mps. I feel almost as if it is cursed. . . ."

He didn't answer. He was already taut like the string of a bow, ready to fly away.

In the three years or more that we'd been together, there had never been any demonstrations of affection between us. It wasn't done. Probably because I was the only woman among so many men, I had built excessively thick walls between us.

And yet in that moment, in the presence of this young kid I'd come to know and grown fond of, when I understood we were saying farewell and I knew that he wouldn't get a second chance-because he was a member of the armed forces and would be shot if he were retaken-I felt a crus.h.i.+ng pain. I knew he was waiting for me to give him a final thumbs-up before he set off to accomplish his exploit. I reached out my arms to hug him, aware that our gesture would attract attention. I saw my companions watching us, and I pulled back, restraining myself to only wis.h.i.+ng him well. "May G.o.d be with you every step of the way." Pinchao hurried off, more moved, more tense, more tormented than I had ever seen him.

Suddenly there was a commotion. The guards were shouting, and the tension in our enclosure had once again reached new heights. He won't leave, He won't leave, I said to myself just as Monster's flashlight blinded me. I was already huddled in my nighttime coc.o.o.n. I said to myself just as Monster's flashlight blinded me. I was already huddled in my nighttime coc.o.o.n.

The storm broke shortly before eight o'clock in the evening. If he's going to leave, now would be the ideal time, If he's going to leave, now would be the ideal time, I thought. I thought. But if he's too afraid, he won't leave. But if he's too afraid, he won't leave. I lapsed into a deep sleep, relieved I would not have to face the wrath of the G.o.ds in such weather. I lapsed into a deep sleep, relieved I would not have to face the wrath of the G.o.ds in such weather.

It was already late in the morning when they came to remove our chains. When I emerged from my tent with my toothbrush and my water bottle, my companions were all looking at the relevante, relevante, who went away cursing. who went away cursing.

"What's going on?" I asked Marc, whose tent had been set up opposite mine.

"Pinchao's not there anymore," he whispered, not looking at me.

"Oh! My G.o.d, that's fantastic!"

"Yes, but now we're the ones who are going to pay."

"If it is so that one of us can get free, I don't care."

SEVENTY-ONE.

THE DEATH OF PINCHAO.

APRIL 29, 2007.

Soon there was talk of nothing else. Everyone speculated on how Pinchao must have escaped, and no one was willing to bet that he would succeed. The weather is good. He's making headway, The weather is good. He's making headway, I thought, rea.s.sured. I thought, rea.s.sured.

Rumors went around that the guerrillas had found him. One of the guards leaked the information to a prisoner he trusted. As long as I don't see him, I won't believe it, As long as I don't see him, I won't believe it, I said to myself. But the order was given to pack our things, because we were leaving. I was released from my tree, and I wrapped my yards of chain around my neck and put away all my gear without hurrying. I said to myself. But the order was given to pack our things, because we were leaving. I was released from my tree, and I wrapped my yards of chain around my neck and put away all my gear without hurrying. Please let him escape from them. Please let him escape from them.

They made us wait with our tents folded up by our beds all morning long. Then they gave the order to get ready to have our bath, and we had to unpack everything again. We stood in single file between the guards, who drove us like cattle, and as on every day we went along the little path down toward the swamps.

We pa.s.sed five bare-chested men on their way through our enclosure with shovels over their shoulders. Ma.s.simo was one of them. He was walking energetically, careful not to lift his eyes from the ground so they would not meet mine.

Once we were in the water, with our soap in our hands, Lucho whispered, "Did you see?"

"The men with the shovels?"

"Yes, they're going to dig a grave."

"A grave?"

"Yes, for Pinchao's body."

"Stop it with your bulls.h.i.+t!"

"They executed him, so the guards told some of our men. They say it was our fault."

"What do you mean, our our fault?" fault?"

"Yes, they say we dragged Pinchao into it."

"Lucho!"

"And they also say that if he is dead, it's our fault!"

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing . . . But what if he is dead and it is is our fault?" our fault?"

"Listen, Lucho dear, stop right there. Pinchao left because he wanted to. He made his decision as a grown man, the way you and I did. Don't worry about it. You're not to blame, and I'm very proud of what he did!"

"And if they killed him?"

"They can't possibly have found him."

"But they did find him. Can't you see? We're leaving, for Christ's sake!"

Our return from the bath was like a funeral march. We met the same guards, on their way back again, soaked in sweat, their shovels dirty. "They dug holes to bury the garbage," I said, increasingly unsure.

Once we were dressed again, we had to go closer to the sh.o.r.e, onto a sporting ground they had made for themselves. The guards didn't react when I sat down next to Lucho to talk. The hours went by, an endless wait.

There was some movement among the troops at the back of what was left of our enclosure. I could hear voices, distorted by the echo of the vegetation. I could see shadows moving behind the rows of trees.

"They've brought Pinchao back," said Armando. "They're going to rough him up for a while. Then we'll all leave. The bongo bongo is already waiting." is already waiting."

I turned around. Sure enough, where we had taken our bath a few hours earlier, there was a big bongo, bongo, like an iron monster. The thought that Pinchao had been taken made me sick. "Why don't they bring him here?" asked Armando, tired of waiting. like an iron monster. The thought that Pinchao had been taken made me sick. "Why don't they bring him here?" asked Armando, tired of waiting.

I looked at patches of sky through the dome of foliage above us. The blue sky has changed to purple, The blue sky has changed to purple, I thought, increasingly worried as I felt the coolness of twilight draw over us. Lucho was silent, answering only in grunts when someone spoke to him. I thought, increasingly worried as I felt the coolness of twilight draw over us. Lucho was silent, answering only in grunts when someone spoke to him.

Suddenly the agitation at the back of the camp started up again. Shadows, voices. There was the sharp report of a gun being fired, piercing through the m.u.f.fled latticework of vegetation. A murder of blackbirds flew up above the trees, soaring straight to the sky above our heads. Those birds are a bad omen, Those birds are a bad omen, I thought. Another shot, a third, another, and yet another. I thought. Another shot, a third, another, and yet another.

"I counted seven," I whispered to Lucho.

"They just executed him," replied Lucho, drained, his lips dry and trembling.

I took his hand and squeezed it tight. "No, Lucho, no! It's not true!"

Everybody thought the same thing. Enrique didn't come. Nor did Monster. Another guerrilla whom we'd seen a few times showed up; we didn't know his name. I called him "El Tuerto" because he was one-eyed. He came over to us, and in a loud voice to intimidate us, his hands on his hips and his legs spread, he laughed. "Well this ought to discourage you from wanting to run away, right?" He felt the weight of our gazes upon him, holding our breath, hanging on to his every word. "I've come to inform you that that son of a b.i.t.c.h is dead. He was trying to swim across the swamps. A guio guio got him. We saw him when the snake was already twisted around him, and he was squealing for help like some little woman. I ordered them to let him get off that s.h.i.+t on his own, and the creature dragged him down to the bottom. That's what you get when you want to play the hero. Take it as a warning." got him. We saw him when the snake was already twisted around him, and he was squealing for help like some little woman. I ordered them to let him get off that s.h.i.+t on his own, and the creature dragged him down to the bottom. That's what you get when you want to play the hero. Take it as a warning."

His story didn't make sense. They killed him, they're the ones who killed him! They killed him, they're the ones who killed him! I thought, horrified. I thought, horrified.

"I want to see Pinchao's body. I don't believe you," I said, breaking our silence.

"But didn't you hear what the commander just said? An anaconda got him! How do you want them to go and get his body?" shouted Armando, beside himself.

I was angry with him for interrupting. I wanted to know what the commander had to say. His body is in the grave they just dug, with seven bullets in his skull, His body is in the grave they just dug, with seven bullets in his skull, I thought, aghast. I thought, aghast.

"Put your equipos equipos on your backs and follow me in silence," he ordered, ending the discussion. "Ingrid, you'll board last." on your backs and follow me in silence," he ordered, ending the discussion. "Ingrid, you'll board last."

Above the river the sky seemed to be smeared with blood. I looked at my companions as they climbed on board the bongo. bongo. Some of them were cracking jokes. In the s.p.a.ce reserved for the guerrillas, the young girls were doing their hair, busy making pretty braids for one another. "El Tuerto" was flirting with them like a sultan in his harem. Some of them were cracking jokes. In the s.p.a.ce reserved for the guerrillas, the young girls were doing their hair, busy making pretty braids for one another. "El Tuerto" was flirting with them like a sultan in his harem. How can they go on living, so carefree? How can they go on living, so carefree? I didn't want to look at the spectacular sunset, or the pretty girls, or the I didn't want to look at the spectacular sunset, or the pretty girls, or the bongo bongo sailing through the tranquil velvet waters of the river. Soon a dome full of stars covered our world and my silence. I sat hidden behind Lucho and wept hot tears as if from a hole in my heart. I put my hands on my cheeks to catch them before anyone could see I was crying. sailing through the tranquil velvet waters of the river. Soon a dome full of stars covered our world and my silence. I sat hidden behind Lucho and wept hot tears as if from a hole in my heart. I put my hands on my cheeks to catch them before anyone could see I was crying. My Pinchao, I hope you can't hear me and that you're not up there yet. My Pinchao, I hope you can't hear me and that you're not up there yet.

For days we sailed on the bongo. bongo. I didn't want to think. Immersed in my pain, and in Lucho's, I tried not to listen to what they were saying. I didn't want to think. Immersed in my pain, and in Lucho's, I tried not to listen to what they were saying.

"It serves him right," said one of our companions.

"With his rabbit teeth and smile, who did he think he was? Did he think that he was better than us?"

My companions were speaking loudly so that the guerrillas would understand that they weren't involved in any way.

I hated them for that.

"He died because he had it coming to him. He shouldn't have listened to such bad advice," said someone else, sitting next to Lucho.

Lucho was tormented and I wasn't much help to him with my weeping.

The bongo bongo went farther into the jungle, crus.h.i.+ng its way through nature like an icebreaker with its reinforced hull; it opened a pa.s.sage into the bowels of h.e.l.l, heading up channels that had been virgin until then. We were protected under the tarpaulin, while the world crumbled around us and the steel monster moved stubbornly and slowly forward. went farther into the jungle, crus.h.i.+ng its way through nature like an icebreaker with its reinforced hull; it opened a pa.s.sage into the bowels of h.e.l.l, heading up channels that had been virgin until then. We were protected under the tarpaulin, while the world crumbled around us and the steel monster moved stubbornly and slowly forward. He must be rotting on the ground. They probably threw him there like a piece of meat. He must be rotting on the ground. They probably threw him there like a piece of meat. I could not stop tormenting myself. I could not stop tormenting myself.

When Mother's Day came that year, we ourselves were rotting in the bowels of the bongo. bongo. Glued to my radio, at four o'clock in the morning I listened to a message from Pinchao's mother, as well as the clear, wise voices of his sisters. Glued to my radio, at four o'clock in the morning I listened to a message from Pinchao's mother, as well as the clear, wise voices of his sisters. Who's going to tell them? How will they find out? Who's going to tell them? How will they find out? I felt terrible, knowing he was dead and listening to their message for him. I felt terrible, knowing he was dead and listening to their message for him.

We finally stopped at the mouth of a channel, on a small beach of fine sand. We disembarked and stretched our bodies from the forced immobility of recent weeks in front of a little house all of wood, surrounded by a garden of fruit trees. We were sent to the back of the house, where a roof of corrugated metal supported by twenty or so beams covered an expanse of earth. We all hurried to take possession of a beam to hang up our hammocks. A big pot of chocolate in boiling water was brought in. Everyone hurried to stand in line, lost in thought. I stood up, shaken and aching, and looked around me at our new reality.

"Companions!" I shouted, in a voice that I wished were louder. "Pinchao is dead. I would like to ask you to observe a minute of silence in his honor."

Lucho nodded. The guard narrowed his eyes. I concentrated on my watch. Our companion who was in thick with the guerrillas brushed past me and went up to the guard, talking in a loud voice. The others hurried to do the same when they saw Enrique coming. Everyone found their own way of breaking the silence; with some it was more premeditated than with others. Only Lucho and Marc went to sit to one side and refused to open their mouths. The minute seemed to last forever. When I looked at my watch and saw it was over, I thought, My poor Pinchillo, I'm glad you're not here to see this. My poor Pinchillo, I'm glad you're not here to see this.

We went on walking toward nowhere, fleeing from an invisible enemy that was breathing down our necks. Marches alternated with journeys on the bongo, bongo, and I did not know which was worse, because in both cases the guards made it their duty to harangue me with their spite. and I did not know which was worse, because in both cases the guards made it their duty to harangue me with their spite.