The old man was burning up with fever, and coughing so much he could barely speak. They said goodbye and Ramón went back to his cell, taking the piece of cloth with the map and the key. With Father Cubillos’s thread, he sewed it in his pants and started waiting. A couple of hours later he went back in the tunnel and, without moving the stone, heard voices saying, ugh, this guy kicked off a while ago, bring a bag and we’ll put him in it, and tonight Arnulfo’s men can take him and throw him in the river.
Later, they came and asked him if he was ready to sign the deeds and he said, almost, when the time Dagoberto gave me is over, I’ll sign what you want, I’ve had it up to here with all this crap. One of the paramilitaries said to another: this corpse is getting skinny, what he needs is rice, we’ll give him rice! Then Ramón asked them, who did you kill in the kitchen? I noticed it was covered in blood. Nobody, they brought someone in who was already dead but we had to remove his scars, so that he couldn’t be identified. We’ll do the same for you if you behave yourself, Ramoncho, we’ll make sure your corpse looks nice and pretty, how about that?
When he calculated that it was already dark, he got in the tunnel and crawled to the Father’s cell. They had put him in a waterproof black canvas bag with a zipper. He opened the bag, took out the priest and put him in the tunnel, pushed him with some difficulty all the way to his own cell, laid him down and covered him with the sheet, with his back to the door. Then he cut off a lock of white hair, went back to the Father’s cell with his things, closed up the tunnel, and got inside the bag. He left the ropes loosely knotted and within reach of his hand, and placed the lock of hair close to the zipper.
Soon afterwards, the door opened and he felt them loading him, first onto a handcart, and then onto the bed of a truck. He was worried they would discover Father Cubillos’s body before too long, but as it was nighttime that would probably not happen until the next day. What river were they going to throw him in? Hopefully a deep one, otherwise the impact when he hit the bottom might kill him. But he was also thinking, is it true that Soraya was cheating on me? who ratted me out? was it Jacinto? Three hours later the truck stopped and he heard them say: right, in the water with him, let’s weigh it down with those bricks, we want this dummy to stay at the bottom. Shall we shoot when he falls in the water, chief? Don’t be so dumb, can’t you see we can’t make any noise? Just throw him in and let’s get out of here, I don’t like being around here too late, my friend’s been waiting for me at the Tinieblas for half an hour now.
I’m in the Ariari, Ramón thought as he went in the water: the Tinieblas is the brothel in Puerto Lleras!
As he fell, he felt the coldness of the water. He sank slowly. The bricks were heavy but two of the four came loose from the ropes as the bag fell. He had taken a deep breath, and he was a good swimmer, so he put his hand out, untied the knot, and the bricks sank to the bottom. The bag rose to the surface a hundred yards farther along the river, filled with air, and served as a life preserver to help him reach the bank.
He stood up with his heart pounding and the adrenaline surging through his blood, and said to himself, what a good idea of God to get him out, maybe he would start believing in Him again. Now he had to get away quickly, because as soon as they realized they would be back. He walked and walked until he came to a shack that looked uninhabited. He looked through one of the windows and did not see anybody, so he entered cautiously; he found clothes, and a piece of bread. He changed and slowly ate, until he had calmed down. His heart stopped pounding and he went out again. He followed the path until he found a bigger one and then a road.
He was in Puerto Lleras.
At dawn he got in the undergrowth and started drying out what he had in the billfold: his Bancolombia card, a couple of cell phone recharging cards, his ID card, his driving license, his judicial certificate, he had all that. The only thing they had taken was his cell phone. They had never imagined he would escape so easily, that was why they had left everything in his pockets. He looked up and prayed a bit. For the soul of the priest who had helped him escape and for God, who had paid him back for his father’s death with this. Of course, he still had to get out of the area, but that now depended on his wits. He would have to find money, or steal a car, but he was not sure how he could do either, and he did not want to leave any trace, because they must have realized by now that he was gone. They could well be looking for him on the banks of the river: fortunately he had gotten rid of the bag, burying it in the undergrowth. But once again Father Cubillos performed a miracle for him, because as he walked, he came to a fence and saw that it was the airport of Puerto Lleras. He made up his mind to go in, he saw that a Cessna belonging to the Satena company was leaving for Villavicencio in forty minutes.
He decided to take a risk. He went to the Banco Popular ATM, and put his card in, and it worked, so he took out a million pesos. With that he bought a ticket and then went to the bathroom to wait until it was time to board the plane, because it was possible that the paramilitaries might think to check the airport. Again he was in luck: he got on the plane and as it rose into the air he felt a wave of tiredness come over him from all his aches and pains, but at the same time he realized that he was alive, and that he was not going to die as soon as he had thought.
In Villavicencio, he did not even leave the airport but got on an Avianca flight to Barranquilla, via Bogotá, and by nightfall he was getting off at Ernesto Cortissoz Airport, beside the Caribbean, thanks to the help and inspiration of Father Cubillos, may God keep him at His right hand. He took a room in a hotel in the Abajo district. He got in the bathtub and let the water stream over his shoulders, head, and chest, and closed his eyes. He had the map and the key in his pants, and he thought: tomorrow I’m going to see what kind of gift the father left for me in that case.
The next day he went out and walked to a shopping mall. He bought clothes, shoes, dark glasses, and a watch, and had a haircut. He went to Telecom and dialed Soraya’s number several times, but hung up when he heard her mother’s voice. Should he talk to Jacinto? call his shop? He did not trust anyone and if he dialed a cell phone they would know he was in Barranquilla, so it was better to wait. He called home and heard his mother’s voice, but decided not to talk, the paramilitaries were sure to question her and it was better if she knew nothing. He would call her or send for her later.
The map on the piece of cloth was half erased, but he knew it by heart, so he went to look for the little chapel, which was in the same district, Abajo. He would have to figure out a way to get into the sacristy, which was where the hiding place was located. For the moment he went in and huddled on one of the benches. It was a simple chapel, with an altar at the front, two prayer rooms at the sides and two rows of benches. A young man was sweeping the corridor and three women were praying. He looked around and saw a half-open door on the right, between the two confessionals. He walked toward it, but just as he was a few feet away, somebody closed it. Never mind, he would come back the next day. He went back over the next four days, studying the chapel. He found out that there was a fairly young priest, a sacristan, three altar boys who came in the mornings, and a woman cleaner who lived at the back. The priest did not live in the sacristy but in a residence.