Marcos walks along a narrow road that cuts through a red pine forest. The road is asphalt but in very poor condition. It’s full of cracks and potholes. Weeds sprout from the cracks, and the sides are full of vegetation; the undergrowth is very dense. Marcos carries a leather backpack on his back and a bundle of belongings slung across his chest. His espadrilles move at a good pace on the asphalt, but suddenly, they stop. Marcos turns and scans the horizon with a surprised look. He concentrates on listening. He hesitates. Yes, it’s a buzzing sound, but... is it possible? He’s not entirely sure. He continues listening attentively, and after a moment, it’s clear: it’s a car! More surprised than scared, he decides to run into the forest.
Marcos enters the forest as best he can, dodging brambles and bushes, but he doesn’t stop once he’s passed them; he keeps running deeper into the forest. When he thinks he’s far enough from the road, he stops to catch his breath. He listens carefully: birds. Birds and cicadas. Here he is safe. He wonders if he’s disoriented. He tries to see the sun, but the tree branches don’t allow it. He moves forward; he can’t have strayed far. After a few steps, he sees the sun’s position. Now he knows where he is and changes direction to get back on track. After a few meters, however, he comes across a small path heading northwest. He decides to follow it because it seems to skirt the base of the hill rising before him; this will save him unnecessary effort.
Soon, however, he realizes the path veers away from the hill and heads north. He decides to follow it a bit longer. If the path doesn’t turn west, he’ll go through the forest. As he keeps going, he reaches a clearing. He enters, but after a few steps, a voice booms:
—Stop! Don’t move!
Marcos scans the surroundings, searching for the source of the shout. He sees nothing, just branches and leaves.
—Get on your knees!
Marcos continues looking for the person shouting but sees no one. He is more curious than scared. He feels no danger, he is very calm. Searching for the voice, he takes a step forward, and suddenly, a shot hits right in front of his feet. Instinctively, he tenses and raises his arms. He is no longer calm; this is serious. Nervously, he intensifies his search for the threat.
—Kneel down! Now! —a new voice roars.
It comes from behind him. He turns, sees nothing. He turns around with his hands in the air, looking for human silhouettes. Nothing. He stands alone in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by who knows how many armed men.
—Son of a bitch! If I have to make you kneel, you won’t get up again! —a new voice enters the scene.
Another shot hits in front of him.
—On the ground, damn it!
Marcos immediately drops to his knees. After a moment that feels like an eternity, the sounds of movement in the underbrush anticipate the appearance of a group of armed men. They are all dressed in dark clothes and have their faces covered. Some wear balaclavas, others handkerchiefs, but all are masked. They carry assault rifles, and Marcos notices that some of them are wearing espadrilles. They approach him slowly. He hears footsteps behind him; he sees out of the corner of his eye that there are three more. “I’m screwed,” he thinks. Eight armed men form a circle around him. They point their weapons at him. Now he is truly terrified.
One of the attackers gestures with his hand, and the rest lower their weapons. He takes a step forward. Marcos makes a move to stand up, but the man behind him signals not to, pressing his shoulder with the rifle barrel. Message received. He remains kneeling. The man in front of him speaks:
—Where are you from, and where are you going?
Marcos tells himself not to make the same mistake he did years ago. During his first two years in high school, he learned the hard way: yielding to bullies only gives them wings. He decides he must control his fear and show defiance. He replies:
—And who are you?
Bad idea. One of the men strikes him so hard in the stomach with the rifle butt that he thinks he’ll die from lack of air. He doubles over in pain. The men behind him remove his backpack, the bundle, and lift him by the armpits. The leader repeats the questions in a condescending tone. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcos sees one of the men rummaging through his things. He ignores it and hastens to answer, struggling because his stomach hurts:
—I’m from my home and going to La Pobla to see the pharmacist.
—Where is your home, and how do you know the pharmacist?
—My home is a day and a half away, and I don’t know the pharmacist; I’ve heard about him.
The man rummaging through Marcos’s things gestures to the leader. There’s nothing suspicious among his belongings.
—Two days on foot, and you’re without a horse or a bike? —the leader continues questioning.
—We have nothing.
This phrase comes from his soul, and the leader notices. He no longer sees Marcos as a threat. In fact, he feels a certain sympathy for him. He gestures, and the two men holding Marcos help him stand.
—La Pobla is that way. Why are you going in this direction? Did you get lost? —the leader asks.
—I heard a car on the road and ran to hide.
The masked men look at each other.
—Are you sure it was a car? —the leader says.
—No... maybe it was a bird typical of this area.
Bam! Another blow to the stomach with the rifle butt. Marcos falls to his knees and doubles over in pain. The same man who struck him the first time punishes his insolence again with violence. This time, however, he gets reprimanded by the leader.
—Enough! —the leader shouts, angry.
—And you... help yourself and answer.
From the ground and with difficulty, Marcos explains:
—I heard it clearly, it was a car.
—Was it going to or coming from La Pobla?
—It was coming from behind me, heading towards La Pobla.
The leader reacts instantly:
—Pep! Take three men and find this car.
The guy who had been hitting Marcos slings the rifle over his shoulder and, as he leaves the group, shouts:
—Guillem! Toni! Julià! With me!
Three men leave the group and follow him without saying anything. The leader extends his hand to Marcos and helps him up. He apologizes for “all this” and asks him to walk with them, assuring him not to be afraid, that he’s safe. Marcos is furious inside. It’s outrageous that after threatening, assaulting, and interrogating him, now this man wants to act like they’re friends, as if nothing happened! But the two blows have had their effect; they’ve intimidated him, and he doesn’t dare say anything; this angers him even more. He feels kidnapped. He remains silent and waits.
The guy who had been rummaging through his backpack asks if he can keep a cheese. The leader glares at the masked man, but Marcos, with a resigned expression, says it’s fine, to take it, that he makes it himself, and it’s very good and that they will like it a lot. Now he’s really angry! On top of it all, they’re robbing him! Sure, they didn’t threaten him to take the cheese, but there are many ways to intimidate someone, and if Marcos feels anything right now, it’s intimidated. Intimidated and angry, but especially intimidated. The thief returns his backpack and bundle and moves ahead of the group.
The leader invites Marcos to walk with a friendly gesture of his hand. The thief walks about twenty meters ahead of the group; then, Marcos and the leader, and finally, behind them, the other two masked men. The leader shows interest in Marcos’s life, who explains that he is a farmer. Marcos asks if they are bandits, and the man who identifies himself as the “commander of the SEDUN” seems sincerely offended. At that moment, he removes his balaclava. Marcos, who doesn’t bother to know what SEDUN is, asks if now that he’s seen his face, they’ll have to kill him or something similar. The commander takes it with humor and insists on the bandit issue. He explains that he and his men fight bandits and have driven them out of this area. He says it’s a bandit-free zone. Marcos, suspicious, looks at the cheese thief walking ahead but makes no comment.
The commander says he doesn’t know why he’s looking for the pharmacist, but if he wants to do business with him, what he has in his backpack won’t be of any use. Marcos asks if he knows the pharmacist, and the commander replies that everyone in the area knows him.
The commander asks if he has ever heard of SEDUN. Marcos doesn’t know what to say. To him, all these armed gangster bands seem the same. He doesn’t want to get into the topic. He hates them all, with their weapons taking what they want and telling people what to do and think... The commander doesn’t wait for an answer and asks him to understand the harsh treatment they gave him, to understand that they must be cautious, and he regrets treating “his own people” like this. This is the last straw...
—I’m not “your people”! —Marcos exclaims, irate—. I’m not here by choice! I didn’t ask to have anything to do with you! My people are at home!
A sharp gesture from the man leading the march makes the commander crouch and pull Marcos down forcefully by the arm. The commander unslings his rifle, steps aside, and aims down the path. They stay still. The man in front stands up and signals. Everyone stands up. Instantly, they see the four men returning from their search, running. Pep approaches the commander while untying the handkerchief covering his face. He’s sweating like a pig. He looks concerned:
—They’re corpos. They’ve set up a checkpoint on the road to La Pobla.
