Death in the Andes

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Authors: Mario Vargas Llosa
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thought those little lights up there were an airplane.
    â€œMercedes.”
    â€œIs that your real name?”
    â€œI only have one,” she said angrily. “And in case you were wondering, I’m not a whore. I was his girlfriend. He took me out of a show I was working in.”
    â€œAt the Vacilón, a club in downtown Lima,” the guard explained. “She wasn’t the only one. Hog had a string of girlfriends. Iscariote introduced him to five at least.”
    â€œWhat a life.” Lituma sighed. “Five at the same time! A change of woman every day, every night, like underwear or shirts. And here we are, Tomasito, starving to death.”
    â€œMy back was aching,” his adjutant went on, absorbed in his memories. “There was no way to persuade the driver to let us ride in the cab. He was afraid we’d attack him. We were covered with bruises. And I was eaten up by doubts when I thought about what Mercedes had said. Could it be true, was all her crying just an act to get him excited? What do you think, Corporal?”
    â€œI don’t know what to say, Tomasito. It probably was an act. He pretended to beat her, she pretended to cry, then he got hot and got off. I’ve heard about guys like that.”
    â€œWhat a pig, a real pig,” his adjutant growled. “He deserved to die, damn it.”
    â€œAnd in spite of everything you fell in love with Mercedes. Love’s really complicated, Tomasito.”
    â€œDon’t I know it,” murmured the guard. “If it wasn’t for love I wouldn’t be in the damn barrens waiting for some motherfucking fanatics to decide to come and kill us.”
    â€œDid you hear something? I’m going to have a look around, just in case.” Lituma listened intently. He stood, holding his revolver, and went to the door of the shack. He peered in all directions and came back to his cot, laughing. “No, it’s not them. I thought I saw the mute taking a shit in the moonlight.”
    What would happen to him now? Better not think about it. Just get to Lima and then he’d see. Could he face his godfather after this? It would be a bitter pill to swallow. He had always behaved like a gentleman and this is how you repay him. That’s called being a real asshole, Carreño. Yes, but he didn’t care. He felt better now, bouncing around with each jolt of the truck and touching her sometimes; much better than back in Tingo María, shaking, sweating, choking, leaning against the walls of that house, listening to his filthy shit. All those moans, pleas, blows, threats, just an act, just a lie? False. Or, unexpectedly, true.
    â€œI didn’t regret a thing, Corporal, and that’s the truth,” Tomás declared. “Whatever happened to me would happen. Because I was already crazy about her, just like you guessed.”
    The motion and the sweet aroma of the mangoes made them both drowsy. Mercedes tried to rest her head against a sack, but the bouncing of the truck made that impossible. Carreño heard her grumble, saw her bury her face in her hands as she shifted again and again in an effort to find a comfortable position.
    â€œLet’s make a deal,” he heard her say at last, trying to be casual. “You lean on my shoulder for a while, and then I’ll lean on you. If we don’t get some sleep, we’ll be dead on our feet by the time we get to Huánuco.”
    â€œWell now, things are getting interesting,” remarked Lituma. “Tell me once and for all about the first time you fucked her, Tomasito.”
    â€œRight then and there I stretched out my arm and made a little place for her,” Tomás said joyfully. “I felt her body coming close to mine, I felt her head resting on my shoulder.”
    â€œAnd, of course, you got a hard-on,” said Lituma.
    The boy didn’t take the hint this time, either.
    â€œI put my arm around her, I rested my hand on

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