They drove in silence until Tito turned onto the road that curled up the hillside to El Playon.
“Why do we have to come here?” Lopez groaned. “Why can’t we go to Diablo?”
“Diablo’s for the live ones,” Tito said. “Labredo is extremely dead. Anyway, what difference does it make?”
“This place stinks, that’s all. Diablo at least you get some fresh air. This place, man, the smell is disgusting.”
Yunques nudged Victor. “You want to cut off his thing?”
“What?”
“Labredo. You want to cut off his thing?”
“Why do you want to do that? The man is dead.”
“Hey, sarge. Pena wants to know why we would cut off the faggot’s
“So tell him,” Tito said.
Yunques breathed garlic over Victor again as he spoke. “We shove that little thing in their mouths so people get the message. You understand? People got to get the message. You don’t join no guerrillas, you don’t protest, you don’t strike, you don’t open your mouth against your country. You open your mouth, we shove your dick in it. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good,” Yunques said. “Come on, kids. Let’s take out the trash.”
The landscape before them rippled with black volcanic hills. Tito left the Cherokee’s headlights on bright; they rimmed the hills with silver. Before the war, the area had been a tourist attraction. Victor remembered visiting it as a child. The bald black hills were a striking sight against a blue sky, and there was a hot spring somewhere. But tourists didn’t come to El Playon any more. In daytime the circling buzzards could be seen for miles.
“Pull your kerchief up, man. You’ll need it.”
Yunques pulled his own neckerchief up over his face like a bandit. Victor did the same.
Lopez lifted Labredo by the arms, Yunques and Victor each took a leg. Sergeant Tito led the way with a powerful flashlight. Steam rose into the beam in lush plumes.
“Fuck this. I can’t see a thing.”
Victor stepped on something soft, which suddenly gave way beneath his foot with a snap. Someone’s rib cage. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Yeah, man. The smell is something.”
“No, I stepped on somebody.”
“Well, watch where you step. You’ll stink up the car. Over this way.”
They swung east, and the lights of the city were flung out below them.
Lopez let go, and Labredo’s head hit a rock with a thud.
“Oh, man, the smell. Let’s get out of here.”
The other two let go and they turned back toward the truck. The smell finally flipped Victor’s stomach right over, and he had to yank his kerchief out of the way to vomit.
“Thanks a lot, Pena. Nice touch.”
“He can’t help it,” Lopez said. “First time I was out here, I did the same thing.”
They headed back to the car, Victor watching where he stepped the whole time.
As Tito backed it up, the lights caught on a bleached face here, an outflung arm there. Wisps of steam clung to the rocks like hair.
“I’m sorry I got sick,” Victor said hoarsely. “The smell ….”
“You’ll get used to it,” Yunques said. “Doesn’t take long.”
“You get used to everything,” Lopez said. “It’s incredible what you get used to.”
Next morning, his uncle found him in the guard room. “Not reading for once.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. You won’t have any time for books now. They’re bringing someone in. And this one you’re going to work on with the others. You’re one of the team, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re either with us or you’re with them, understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
FOUR
She was blindfolded, of course, they were always blind folded. She stood just inside the door, her hands behind her back. She was a skinny woman, taller than Victor, with thin dark hair that hung straight to her shoulders. A large watch with an expandable band hung loosely about one wrist. She was wearing jeans and a tank top. It was cool in the office and there were goose-bumps on her arms.
“First thing you have to learn is intake procedure.” Captain Pena waved a sheaf of forms at Victor. “Whoever picked her up will fill out a report, but you want to take it down first-hand from the-”
“I want to know what are the charges,” the woman said. She had a harsh voice with a catch in it, the voice of a crow.
Captain Pena looked up at her with an appraising glance. “I’ll get to you in just a moment,” he said politely, then turned once more to Victor. “But you still want to take down the prisoner’s version of events, because-”
“You have no right to keep me here. I want to speak to someone in charge.”
“Young lady, you are going about this the wrong way entirely. Two minutes have not gone by and already you are antagonizing me.”
“Why should you be antagonized by a request for just treatment under the law?”
Victor was surprised by her boldness. None of the other prisoners protested this way. Most never spoke at all; to do so was to risk a rifle butt in the ribs.
“Perhaps you don’t realize,” the Captain said gently. “Under Decree 107 you can be detained up to ten days without charges. And you should also know that I run this place.”
“I want to speak to your superior officer. You think this is how law-abiding citizens are to be treated?” Being blindfolded, she addressed her cawing to a space between Victor and his uncle.
“Miss, you will meet the General soon enough,” Captain Pena said. “Please be patient. Actually,” he said, turning to Victor, “I’ve already given you the wrong impression. Normally I don’t have any conversation with a prisoner on intake. It threw me off, her being a woman.”
He got up from his desk and went over to the woman. He took hold of her elbow. “Excuse me,” he said. “You’re right in the doorway here, could you just move over a little bit?”
The woman moved awkwardly a pace or two, her back against the wall. “I would like to speak to a lawyer. I have the right to representation.”
“Could you just move your left foot, please? You know the ‘at ease’ position? I want you to stand at ease.”
The Captain tapped the instep of her left foot with his army boot. She was wearing grubby tennis shoes with red trim. She moved her foot aside so that her feet were about two feet apart.
“Thank you,” said Captain Pena, then kicked her full force between the legs. She fell to her knees and curled up as if she had taken a bullet.
Fear slipped into Victor’s bloodstream like acid.
“The official form of greeting,” his uncle said. “Man, woman, doesn’t matter. You have to let them know right away that here the rules do not apply. This is their welcome to a different universe, where mercy does not exist. You have a problem with that, soldier, you go back and explain to Casarossa.” He shouted for a guard, and Lopez came in. “Put her in a cell, we’ll talk to her later.”
Lopez pulled her roughly to her feet. She was not able to stand upright. She was still gulping for air. Victor suddenly understood another reason for the blindfold: tears would not show.
“Hold it,” the Captain said.
