Among the Lost

by Emiliano Monge

  ‘Everyone back here!’ yells El Topo, brooding and telling himself that he no longer wants what he wants, he gazes up into the sky at the slow, heavy flight of the storks that have returned to La Caída: ‘I’m telling you to get your arses back here … Are you listening or what? … We can’t waste all night fucking around … We’ve got to get back to El Infierno!’ First to arrive back are El Tampón and the youngest of the soldiers, who, before they have even come to a halt, hear: ‘You and me are going to fetch the truck!

  ‘Are you listening or not?’ El Topo says, staring at El Tampón, then, turning and giving the youngest of his men a vicious slap, explains to him and to the other soldiers who have now arrived back: ‘The two of us are going to get the truck … In the meantime, you lot are going to load the corpses into whichever of these trucks is least fucked … If it won’t start up, we’ll have to tow it … so work out how we’re going to hitch them together!

  ‘And you two,’ El Topo growls at two soldiers who are about to pay dearly for not being amongst those he has just been addressing: ‘Head over that way and look for Estela. You’re not going anywhere, so it’s in your best interest to find her … The bitch has to be around here somewhere.’ El Topo turns on his heel and, heading back to the place where he left the fake armoured truck, he calls back: ‘If we don’t get back to El Infierno, they’ll know something has happened.

  ‘We have to say that it went off without a hitch … We have to tell Sepelio that she’s dead … that her body was part of the cargo we gave to the old men,’ El Topo says, hastening his pace and, unwittingly, hastening the events that follow: they will reach the fake security van, they will drive back to the scene, they will hitch one of the old pickups to the former municipal garbage truck and leave La Caída forever.

  The silence between the two men leading the squadron who left Madre Buena plateau, as the phony armoured truck inches down the slopes of La Caída and away from the place where the two soldiers are still searching for Estela, will not be broken until El Infierno appears in the distance. It will not be broken until the moment when, taking a hand off the steering wheel, El Topo points and says: ‘Look, we can see the flames again.’

  ‘You’re blind as a bat … I spotted them ages ago,’ El Tampón says, and as he does so he realises that he now wants to say all the things he has been brooding over during the drive: ‘We should have stayed up there … No one would ever have known … Why did you side with those bastards? … I should have stayed back there.’

  ‘And miss out on La Carpa?’

  ‘To find that fucking bitch … What has La Carpa got to do with it?’

  ‘What has it got to do with …? What does …? You really don’t know shit,’ El Topo roars, flooring the accelerator of the fake security van. ‘If Sepelio finds out that we’ve lost Estela, we won’t get to go to La Carpa … and if we show up late here, and the triplets talk to him later, he’ll work it out.’

  ‘I still think I should have stayed behind.’

  ‘This way, he’ll think it all went as we planned … That’s why you couldn’t stay … because he’s bound to call you sooner or later.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to tell him that she’s dead … is that what you want?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘How come you’re not the one who has to lie to him?’

  ‘You won’t be lying to him … It’s just a matter of time … They’re bound to find her eventually.’

  ‘What if I turn it off?’ El Tampón says, staring at the telephone in his hands. ‘I turn it off and we wait until they’ve found her.’

  ‘You really don’t get it, do you? … Didn’t you hear me? He can talk to the old men,’ El Topo gestures towards El Infierno. ‘Just listen to me … When he calls, just say it all went off like clockwork.’

  ‘And what if they realise she’s not there?’ El Tampón asks, pointing to El Infierno, where it is just possible to make out the shadows of the two remaining triplets.

  ‘How are they going to find out if they don’t know what’s supposed to be in the cargo?’ El Topo says, watching the shadowy figures grow. ‘Besides, even if they knew, they couldn’t exactly go looking for her body, it’s like a slaughterhouse back there … You couldn’t recognise your own mother.’

  ‘A while ago they were complete bastards, and now look at them … They’re straining at the leash … See the way they’re eyeing the pickup?’

  ‘Should I stop here or drive right in?’

  ‘Better to drive inside.’

  ‘I feel like mowing them down.’

  ‘Park over there next to those barrels.’

  Before El Topo has completely stopped the truck, El Tampón turns, flicks up the lock on the door, wrenches the handle and jumps down into El Infierno. When they see him, the two triplets who still live here — the third left one morning without a word and went to live high in the sierra — start walking towards him, arms waving, through the thick smoke belched by the barrels.

  Guided by the headlights of the fake security truck, El Tampón, too, steps into the billowing smoke, and, stopping next to the crackling fires whose flames set the skin of Encanecido and Teñido ablaze, says: ‘We’ve brought you this lot.’ A dog’s head appears between the barrels, only to quickly run off, scurrying past as the two old men chorus: ‘You said you were bringing three trucks, you’ve only brought one.’

  The dog is only a distant memory by the time El Tampón says: ‘They all came in one truck … They didn’t bring the second truck Sepelio mentioned.’ A brief, thunderous flash from the largest of the barrels causes El Tampón to glance to his left, then he returns his gaze to the two old men. ‘Well, let’s see what we’ve got then,’ Encanecido says and the three men set off in the same direction.

  They accelerate their pace, unaware that in doing so they are also accelerating the speed of the events that follow: they will negotiate a price for the bodies and the scrap metal, unload the mangled corpses of Estela’s men and of the nameless, and, amid the carnage, discover a body that is unscathed and miraculously alive. They will haggle over a price for Merolico, then El Tampón and the two men who founded El Infierno return to the spot where they met and discuss whether or not the men who left Lago Seco will stay and rest a while at Tres Hermanos.

  Without any respite to the speed at which these events are taking place, El Tampón and El Topo will discuss whether they should sleep in the truck or in the workshop of the two remaining triplets, they sleep for a few hours, they and their men, in the steelworks at Tres Hermanos. Meanwhile, Teñido and Encanecido help the migrant they have recently acquired, they help him to understand what has happened and explain how he managed to come out alive.

  Later, while the old men who founded El Infierno are showing Merolico every nook and cranny of their kingdom and explaining what he will have to do from now on, El Topo and El Tampón wake up, argue about whether it is better to head on to La Carpa or go back to La Caída, and, deciding to keep driving towards La Carpa, they leave El Infierno, and with it, they quietly leave behind the story of Estela, Epitafio and the two boys in the jungle, the two boys who are marching through the forest, not talking to each other, nor to those who follow them, filled with hope.

  SECOND INTERLUDE

  Light and Fire will Return

  I

  The hindquarters of the vehicle that has just dumped another two bodies fold into the depths of night and its flickering taillights disappear in the distance. Only then do the two old men who founded El Infierno turn and, grabbing Merolico’s arms, begin to walk back towards their kingdom.

  ‘They are always supposed to call us first,’ Encanecido explains to the old man, who does not understand how he can still be alive.

  ‘Supposed to call, to say how many they’re bringing, how much they’re paying,’ Teñido adds, staring at Merolico for a moment, then, releasing his grip on his arm,
says: ‘Help me close this gate.’

  ‘That’s how they were able to come and go, no problem,’ Encanecido explains, watching as his triplet and Merolico close the wrought-iron gates.

  ‘Because they called this morning … They always call in the morning,’ Teñido finishes the sentence, shooting home the bolt that locks the two gates. ‘Only them as calls are allowed in here.’

  ‘What about the padlock?’ Merolico asks, clutching at Teñido as he turns away, then turning to look at the two men, says: ‘What if they come back?’

  ‘I’m the one always puts on the padlock,’ growls Encanecido, shoving aside his triplet and the oldest of the men and women who came from the wastelands, and the only man who, in the sierra, came unscathed through dust and fire.

  ‘I already said I don’t think they’ll come back,’ Teñido says, dragging Merolico along. ‘Least not for several days.’

  ‘And even if they do, you’ve no need to fear,’ Encanecido says, snapping the padlock shut and also turning to face Merolico. ‘Those bastards won’t hurt you any more …’

  ‘Don’t you get it? We bought you … You belong to us now and they can’t say shit!’

  ‘This here’s your new home!’ Encanecido says, his sweeping arm taking in the space where fires crackle and smoke dances between broken-down cars.

  ‘You’ve reached a place where you can finally be safe,’ Teñido nods, ‘El Infierno.’ At this, twin tongues of flame flare from the barrels as though to emphasise his words.

  ‘But back to our business … Forget about them, let’s talk about this …’ Encanecido says, gesturing to the place where the mangled corpses slaughtered in the sierra now lie in piles.

  ‘Let’s see if you understand …’

  ‘If you’ve understood what you’ll be doing here.’

  The flames rising from the barrels set the night’s shadows scuttering and mark out a path for the men as they trudge through El Infierno without another word. Silently, the two remaining triplets are relishing the fact that they have suddenly acquired a helper, someone to do what their brother used to do. For his part, Merolico is embracing his fate and determined not to fail the two men who saved him just a few hours ago.

  Prowling around the old men, who, as they walk, cleave the stone-grey clouds of smoke, come the dogs who live here: when their masters walk abroad in their kingdom, the beasts are always at their heels. High up, where the rising smoke melds into the darkness, a flock of storks is migrating to another world.

  A few metres from the place towards which they are headed, where the pile of broken bodies is bleeding out and the warm, snaking, ashy smoke from the furnaces becomes thick, sweltering and unbreathable, the two old men who founded El Infierno and who are growing older every day cover their faces with their hands and, beneath their cupped palms, set their tongues wagging again.

  ‘I hope that you don’t fail,’ Encanecido says, turning to Merolico, and adds, ‘and that you’re not too bothered by the stench.’

  ‘I can tell you won’t fail us,’ Teñido says as he, too, turns to face the oldest of the men and women who crossed the border only to meet the hail of bullets in the sierra: ‘You’ll get used to the smells, you’ll see.’

  ‘I don’t know whether I could get used to it,’ Merolico blurts suddenly, stopping to spew the acrid liquid that has been churning in his gut, welling in his throat until it found the miniscule church of the fortune-teller’s mouth.

  ‘Everyone gets used to it,’ Encanecido declares, tugging Merolico’s arm and laughing at the way he arches his body.

  ‘One of these days you won’t even smell it,’ Teñido agrees, tugging at the oldest of the soulless, then, gesturing to the flames rising like huge sunflowers from one furnace, adds: ‘You’ll start here with this fire.’

  ‘You’ll see, you might even get to like it,’ Encanecido says with a sudden laugh and, stopping next to the barrel his brother just mentioned, turns towards the limbs severed in the hail of bullets. ‘We threw up ourselves the first time.’

  ‘We’d never smelled burning flesh before either,’ Teñido says, chuckling, then, turning to the mangled bodies, quickens his step.

  ‘Someone brought in a car that had been shot up, and we found the body of a woman inside,’ Encanecido explains, following his triplet brother and dragging Merolico in his wake. ‘They wanted the car back, so we charged them for cleaning it and disposing of the body.’

  ‘Later, they came back with another bullet-riddled car and this time there were lots of bodies inside,’ Teñido finishes his brother’s sentence as he stops next to a heap of corpses. ‘That day we turned this business around … We turned it into a real breaker’s yard.’

  ‘We diversified, you might say … These days we don’t just break cars, we break bones,’ Encanecido said, laughing even louder. ‘In business, you have to adapt. If you don’t, someone else will and then you’re fucked.’

  ‘That’s true … We’re not turning our backs on the past,’ Teñido says gravely and his laugh trails away. ‘We couldn’t give up the old business altogether … but these days meat is as valuable as scrap iron.’

  ‘If they leave the vehicle with us, they get the bodies burned for free,’ Encanecido explains, bending over the pile of bloody, emaciated limbs; then he picks up an arm and, waving it in the air, says, ‘If they want to take the clapped-out car away, we charge them for each body.’

  ‘But we explained all that already,’ Teñido says, as he, too, picks up a severed arm and pretends to lunge at the body of the oldest of all the bodiless creatures.

  ‘I lied to them,’ Merolico babbles, but before he reaches the end of his sentence, the surviving triplets interrupt him with another burst of laughter.

  ‘Ha Ha Ha! … Too much chatting and not enough slogging,’ Encanecido growls between booming belly laughs.

  ‘Best you get to work and stop wasting time,’ Teñido says, tossing the arm he has been waving back on to the pile. ‘You finished hacking up this lot a while ago and you still haven’t tossed one on to the fire.’

  ‘So get a move on, there’s a lot to burn, we’ll be watching you … and don …’

  ‘And don’t go stopping, even if other people show up.’

  ‘If anyone shows up, we’ll open the gates,’ Encanecido explains. ‘You don’t move from here until you’ve finished your work.’

  ‘When you’re finished, come see us,’ Teñido agrees, turning and pointing to the shack where he and his brother live, then adds, ‘Not when you’ve finished burning the bodies … When you’ve finished cleaning the pickup.’

  ‘We’ll be there waiting,’ Encanecido in turn gestures to the shack and then heads in that direction.

  ‘And remember … we can see you from there,’ Teñido says and trudges off in his brother’s footsteps.

  II

  The echo of the door Encanecido has just slammed rolls around the vast breaker’s yard, but does not penetrate the ears of the oldest of those who left their lands days ago. He raises the machete Teñido has just set down and, as he does so, memories rise of the voices of the men and women who crossed the border with him: How could I do that to them?

  All around Merolico, the dogs prowl and growl and flames crackle in the drums, but these sounds do not reach his ears. Why did I lie to them all? wonders the oldest of the shadowless and, as he does so, he raises the machete he is holding to his eyes. What good did it do me? Merolico mutters over and over as the edge of the blade cuts through his sightline, then he tosses the knife on to the jumbled pile of corpses.

  The sound of the machete as it strikes a shaft of bone that rises from the bodies like the mast of a sunken ship sets the dogs’ yapping louder, but this sound, too, does not pierce the ears or the mind of the oldest of the voiceless, who is now staring at the palms of his hands in the nervous, flickering glow of the flames. In the end, it won
’t save me … It’s written here in the lines of my hand, Merolico thinks and, without knowing why, he starts to laugh.

  What the hell am I laughing at? Merolico is wondering as he laughs, but the thought is interrupted by Encanecido’s voice like a whipcrack, booming across El Infierno, lashing the oldest of all the voiceless and startling the baying pack of dogs: ‘Get to work, you fucker! … We’re watching you!’ Shaking his head, Merolico shakes off the thoughts and the laughter the way a dog shakes itself dry: he must not fail these men.

  I can’t afford for these bastards not to like me, Merolico mutters silently to himself and as he does so, finally trudges towards the pile of corpses and severed limbs. Just as he is about to raise his machete, Teñido’s voice rumbles in the distance, and more than urging him on, the words that reach him further numb the oldest of the godless: ‘Shift your arse! We want to see that work done!’ At Teñido’s roar, the barking of the hounds rises to a howl, and the howls take Merolico back to the years when he was a soldier.

  ‘We’re not going to wait around all night … We’re not going to put up with you if you can’t do your job!’ yell the brothers, but Merolico is no longer listening: he is not simply reliving the years he spent as a soldier, but those after he joined the paras, the years he spent wiping out whole populations, eviscerating pregnant women, hacking children and old people: Even then I knew that light and fire would return.

  I can see it written on my palms as clear as day … The past is always waiting up ahead, Merolico thinks, and as he does so, finds himself laughing again and it is the sound of his own laughter that rips the oldest of the nameless from his trance and drags him back to El Infierno, where the two brothers, watching from their window, are suddenly puzzled: something has changed in this man who now picks up the machete from the ground and, raising it high, begins to slash and roar, scattering the baying dogs skulking around the corpses.