ANGELICA: A young middle-class Colombian woman, who is a kidnap victim.

DOLORES: A young female guerrilla fighter with an indigenous background.

AURELIO: A mature and ideologically well-prepared guerrilla fighter.

TIROTEO: A young and impulsive guerrilla fighter.

SOLDIERS 1 – 4.

SETTING:

We see one room. It is the back room in a two room hideout occupied by the guerrillas, who are guarding their prisoner, a kidnap victim being held for ransom. There is a doorway leading into the front room, which we do not see. There are chairs for the guerrillas, and one for the prisoner, who is tied up. See "Notes on Prisoner Binding" at the end of the play for more details.

PROPS:

Proper attire for all actors.

Ropes and binding materials.

Pistols for the guerrillas, rifles for the soldiers.

A chamber pot.

A nail file.

Etc.

ANGELICA: I’m thirsty.

ANGELICA: I’m thirsty. Can I have something to drink?

ANGELICA: Not to inconvenience anybody…

TIROTEO: You’ve got a big mouth, girl.

ANGELICA: I’m thirsty, that’s all. The guy who kidnapped me, your leader, told me I didn’t have anything to worry about as long as I didn’t make trouble. He told me, "It’s a business. Like any business, we have to hold up our end. We have to deliver what we promise. They pay us, and we return you unharmed." - I’m thirsty.

TIROTEO: You rich girls think you own the world. What’s the word that’s in fashion these days? "Entitled"?

AURELIO: [Agreeing] That’s it.

TIROTEO: Entitled. Entitled to everything you want, when you want. Like the 500-pound parrot who says, "Polly wants a cracker NOW!"

ANGELICA: All I want is a drink of water.

TIROTEO: All you want? First you wanted us to just let you walk around without restraints like this was a party.

AURELIO: "Revolution is not a tea party."

TIROTEO: Then you wanted your ropes loosened and gave us this bullshit story about your circulation, and your veins, like you were some kind of son-of-a-bitch doctor.

ANGELICA: They were too tight, you were cutting off the blood flow; you could’ve killed off my tissues. I don’t want my hands to be amputated, god damn it!

TIROTEO: [To Aurelio] Where did we stash the gag? I’m getting tired of listening to this bourgeois chick.

DOLORES: Give her a drink first.

DOLORES: Give her a drink. You’re going to gag her? Give her a drink first. She can’t drink through the gag.

TIROTEO: Don’t fall for her whining, compan~era. She’s part of a whole class that thinks the squeaky wheel gets the oil. They drive the poor people into the slums, or into the jungles where they can’t be heard: into places that swallow every sound. And whatever voice remains they drown out with a bomb or a machine gun. They don’t want competition. They want everything for themselves. Whining, selfish bitch! [She starts to say "I need a drink", but he stifles it by putting the gag on over her mouth. She protests with sounds hemmed in by the gag that have no form. Tiroteo laughs.] What did you say, dear? I can’t hear you? Can you speak up?

TIROTEO: [Talking about Angelica] Ah, that’s better! The perfect woman – silent. The first one since Anne Boleyn. [Angelica says something, probably like "Fuck you" from behind the gag, but it isn’t clear] What’s that you said? I’m just the kind of man you like? Too bad, I have to stay focused. No frolicking, this is business. I can’t be caught with my pants down. [Again she curses him] Yes, I know. The ladies love me. I just can’t turn it off.

DOLORES: I’ll tilt the water slowly.

ANGELICA: Did you boil the water first?

TIROTEO: Listen to that! The water we drink here isn’t good enough for her? Dolores, did you look at it under a microscope to make sure there aren’t any amebas in it? Amebas are for poor people. White asses like that aren’t meant to get dirty.

ANGELICA: Shut up!

TIROTEO: Maybe we could order out for champagne. Is there a specific year you prefer?

ANGELICA: Brute!

DOLORES: Look, Angelica, this is for real. You don’t talk back to us. You don’t give us lip. We’re in control here. [She lifts up her trigger finger and wiggles it in the air] That’s all it takes, one little movement of one little finger to blow your head off. [Angelica is silent and terrified.] We’re the ones in control here.

TIROTEO: You pigs are in control of everything else! Who eats, who starves! Who has a doctor, who dies! Who has land, who has nothing! Well, here, bitch, the roles are reversed! We’re in charge! We’re the ones who decide who lives and who dies! We’re the ones with the gun! Welcome to the kingdom of the flea! From you, bitch, we’re going to take a drop of blood.

DOLORES: [To Tiroteo] Enough. [Turning to Angelica] You want a drink or not?

TIROTEO: Give her water, and she’s just going to want to piss. What a rigmarole that’s going to be!

DOLORES: Is the release set?

AURELIO: They haven’t even paid. They’re haggling. They say they don’t have it all.

DOLORES: So it’s going to take some time. She needs a drink. [Dolores takes off the prisoner’s gag and hands it to Tiroteo.] I’ll pour it slow, Angelica.

ANGELICA: Thank you. [The two of them work together, Dolores pouring the water slowly into Angelica’s mouth.]

TIROTEO: [About Dolores] She’s soft. It’s going to get us into trouble.

AURELIO: She’s tougher than you think, compan~ero.

TIROTEO: Has she ever killed anyone?

AURELIO: Not everyone has a résumé like you, Tiroteo.

TIROTEO: So what’s she here for, then? Good looks? She’s as cold as ice to men.

AURELIO: She’s focused. We don’t need more pregnant guerrillas, compan~ero.

TIROTEO: And does she know what a weapon is for?

AURELIO: Tiroteo, you shot up a whole bunch of security guards for BP, and brought down so much heat on the operation that they ended up uprooting two cells, and sending in the paramilitaries. This girl, here, has carried out three seamless kidnappings. No casualties. No leads. Good money for the cause. It doesn’t get any better than that.

TIROTEO: And if it came to a shoot-out, would she have our back, compan~ero? What I want to know is, are there three of us or are there two of us?

AURELIO: We tested her before we took her, comrade.

DOLORES: You’ve heard of Rodrigo Arboleda?

TIROTEO: The banana entrepreneur? The one who was killed in his mansion by his maid?

DOLORES: His maid didn’t kill him. She provided the information about his schedule and the alarms. The killer came from outside.

TIROTEO: His wife was killed too.

DOLORES: She couldn’t be allowed to warn the others. Ten minutes were needed to get clear of the scene, and there wasn’t time to tie her up, because her husband made too much noise falling onto the floor, and somebody might have heard.

TIROTEO: And the sound of the gunshots?

DOLORES: The silencer. It reminded me, then, of a blow gun from the Amazon. [She imitates its sound]

AURELIO: That’s right, comrade, how does it feel to be standing on the same side of the bars as the tiger?

TIROTEO: [Amazed] Well how do you like that? Such a quiet girl!

AURELIO: My grandmother, who lived down on the Guaviare, always used to say: "You can swim in water with current. It’s the water that’s still that you don’t get into."

ANGELICA: [Horrified] You killed Rodrigo Arboleda and his wife?

ANGELICA: His wife?

DOLORES: I’m just playing.

ANGELICA: That’s a relief! Why the hell would anyone shoot the guy’s wife? I mean, I can understand that the way you people think, Arboleda was a capitalist pig or whatever: Mr. Chiquita, who had to be exterminated for underpaying his workers or contracting the paramilitaries or whatever you say he did besides growing fruit on a tree. But his wife? Whoever killed her must have had the heart of a reptile. What did she do except say, "Have a good day, dear", as he left in the morning?

DOLORES: [Walking around, muttering] Son of a bitch! Killers who dare to call others "killers"! And all they gave me was a fucking pistol! I should have had a machine gun!

ANGELICA: I don’t want to die. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not rich. My family’s not rich. We belong to the middle class. They work hard. They’re fair. Everything they got in life, they had to work for, and now you want to take it all away from them! I don’t deserve to die! Is it a sin to go to the university? I want to learn, I want to make something of myself! [Looking most directly at Dolores, who has returned] I’m not like Rodrigo Arboleda!

DOLORES: Calm down, Angelica.

ANGELICA: I want to live! I don’t deserve this!

DOLORES: Calm down!

ANGELICA: I want to live!

DOLORES: Calm down. [She caresses her hair, slightly, trying to silence her] Calm down. Everything is going to be OK. This is business. That’s all. Business. Your people pay, and everything works out.

AURELIO: That’s right, girl. Arboleda was a hit. Planning knew we couldn’t pull off a kidnapping, so they set up a kill. You, on the other hand, are an investment. You have nothing to worry about, as long as your family plays by the rules.

TIROTEO: Such a wimp! We’re living in poverty, in this reign of terror, and there you are, all shaken up just because your hands are tied. This stress is what we go through every day. This is the reality of the rest of Colombia, but for you, a few days of it are more than you can stand!

DOLORES: It’s OK, calm down. Don’t make such a racket, or we’re going to have to put this gag back on. Calm down, girl. You’re going to get out of this alive. I promise.

ANGELICA: You know, this isn’t fair. I mean, can I talk or will you shoot me?

AURELIO: When we say you can talk, you can talk. When we say don’t talk, don’t talk. [Pause] For now, you can talk.

ANGELICA: My family doesn’t have much money.

AURELIO: That’s what they’re saying.

ANGELICA: It’s true. I don’t know how much you’re asking for my return, but please don’t break them.

TIROTEO: Cut the crap. The compan~eros know their shit. You had the Rolex and the diamond ring you hid under the car seat; and you turned up on the list, on the laptop. It was a good day fishing. That will teach you to go out for a drive in the country.

ANGELICA: I was just driving to my uncle’s. We can’t even use the roads, anymore? You’re like the god-damned trolls under the bridge! You’re the ones who’ve turned our country into a living hell! [No one says anything] Look, the Rolex – it was a present from a guy. And the ring was from my quincenera. You’ve completely overvalued it. [More silence] So, my family splurged for one day! Is it a crime to love your daughter, to try to show her you love her as much as other families love theirs? They made a sacrifice, because they have big hearts. Is that the Colombia we want to live in, where people are afraid to express their love? [Looking to Dolores] Didn’t you ever have a quincenera? [No answer] I don’t mean to be naive. I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you. Maybe you didn’t. But if you didn’t, let me tell you, it’s not like shooting the leader of a labor union. It’s not like throwing the body of a peasant into a ditch. It’s harmless, it’s joyful, it’s fun; it’s something everybody does. How the hell could it turn you into a "class enemy"?

AURELIO: [To the others] See how deep the roots of the gringos extend, right into the minds of our own middle class? [To Angelica] The American dream isn’t for Colombia, girl. The nice suburban house, the car, the PC, the home movie theater, the I-Pod. These are the fruits of imperialism, the toys which they make from the sweat and blood of stolen countries. They put the dream of this lifestyle into your head, and before you know it, you’ve forgotten about the rest of your country. You only want to be like a gringo. But there isn’t enough wealth to turn this country into America. Only a part of our country can be America. A part that must kill the other part if it is to ever reach the corrupt aspiration which has infected it. And so, a deadly stratum of our own society is kidnapped by the aggressors and converted into a tool of imperialism. It siphons off more than its fair share of the national income in order to satisfy its exaggerated desires which are completely out of place in our historical context, and abandons its brothers to hunger; when the people protest, it sides with the party that has the helicopters and the bombs and the death squads; it sides with the party that protects its little imitation island of America, its garrison of pleasure in a land of pain.

AURELIO: We need to have other priorities here, girl. The basic needs of the people must be met first. Then we can think about all that other crap, like PCs and sports cars. Later, girl, not now!

AURELIO: Pitiful, I can see the soap suds coming out of your ears from the gringo brainwash! Is that what they’re teaching in the university these days? Poor, brainwashed little girl.

ANGELICA: At least I’m not trying to saddle up a dinosaur!

AURELIO: Capitalism can spew all the hype it likes, but as long as people are being exploited, the truth will remain alive, because the skin that bleeds knows the deceitfulness of the mind. You won’t let Karl Marx die. Every time you take away a plot of land or drop a bomb or pay a worker with a drop of piss, Karl Marx grows twice as tall.

ANGELICA: [Defiantly] I’m not Rodrigo Arboleda. [Looking at Aurelio’s wrist.] And you’re not Karl Marx. Looks like you’ve got a nice watch on your wrist. Is it mine?

AURELIO: [Embarrassed] I need a good watch to keep the time. It’s not for show, it’s not about getting to the movie on time. It’s actually a piece of military hardware. [Explaining more] Timing, in war, can mean the difference between life and death. Isn’t that true, Dolores?

DOLORES: [Just going along with him.] It’s true.

ANGELICA: It looks like my watch.

AURELIO: It’s not.

ANGELICA: I don’t believe you.

TIROTEO: Believe him. [Taking a watch out of his pocket] This is your watch.

ANGELICA: So, when are you sending it on to the High Command? When does it go to a peasant, or get exchanged for flour and beans so a poor person can eat?

TIROTEO: I am a peasant, you stupid bitch! Who are you to complain that I have what you had? Watches are only for your kind? Why is it wrong for me, but right for you?

ANGELICA: Because I bought it. You stole it.

TIROTEO: You were able to buy it, only because your class steals from ours!

ANGELICA: I bought it! You stole it!

DOLORES: Your boyfriend bought it. [Everyone stops to look at her] Did he get a good reward?

ANGELICA: How dare you!

TIROTEO: Put her gag back on.

DOLORES: [Explaining to Tiroteo] Didn’t you say that you enjoyed listening to that guy – the informer, when you were making him confess? Didn’t you compare it to music? [Angelica is horrified]

TIROTEO: Yeah. It was fitting that a bastard who’d done so much damage was in tears.

DOLORES: So, [indicating Angelica] isn’t this just another form of music? All this distress? All this complaining?

TIROTEO: I like cumbia, Dolores. This is something f**ked, like opera.

DOLORES: Let’s let her breathe.

ANGELICA: I want to go home. I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t! Really, I haven’t!

TIROTEO: On the other hand, you’re right. It is like music. The music of the ruling class on its knees. Notes of justice, coming from a throat that’s exposed to the knife.

ANGELICA: God damn it, I’m not a part of the ruling class! I’m just not a f**king peasant! [Then, realizing she may have gone too far] Please don’t hurt me! [To herself] You’re all so mean! Revolutionaries, my ass, you’re nothing but a bunch of thugs….

AURELIO: What? What did she call us?

TIROTEO: Comrade, she called us "thugs."

AURELIO: Thugs? Is that what you called us? [Coming closer to her] Thugs? Is that what the fight for human dignity makes us? Thugs?

ANGELICA: [Boldly] What dignity? You tie me up, you terrorize me, you point a gun at my head, you use me to try to squeeze every last penny you can get out of my family, to wipe out all their savings from a whole lifetime of hard work, to obliterate all their dreams in one second and cast them back into the mire of poverty, just so you can buy more guns and wear Rolexes on your wrists! You aren’t revolutionaries, you’re thugs, bandits! You don’t have ideals, you want what we have but the difference is we work for what we get, while you just wait like vultures at a roadblock , to swoop down on us and take what you want by force!

AURELIO: You’ve got the roles reversed. That’s what your class does and has done throughout our history. You encircled the land with tentacles of greed, you stole the fields that sustained us so you could force us to work on your terms, in plantations married to the foreigners; you massacred our workers, and whenever we climbed up the farcical steps of the democratic game to challenge you, you shot down our leaders in cold blood, you silenced their golden voices and put bullet holes through their generous hearts. Now, we live beneath skies of helicopters, wounded but undefeated, because justice won’t let us sleep, won’t let us die no matter how much blood we’ve lost. We are realists, living in the land which you have given to us, and fighting according to its laws, which declare, in documents made of cadavers, that there are no laws.

ANGELICA: You are thugs! You kidnap and deal drugs!

ANGELICA: That’s just a lot of self-serving bullcrap! You’re thugs!

TIROTEO: [To Dolores] Gag her!

ANGELICA: And the drug-dealing! In the name of Jesus, how can you defend that? Drug-dealing! What a lot of bullshit!

ANGELICA: You’re drug dealers!

AURELIO: Like the government isn’t? You know, the money we make at this end of the trade, from providing coca paste to the refiners and traffickers, is nothing compared to the money they make at the other end. And loads of that money goes back to the government through pay-offs and investments of the nouveau riche to prop up the regime. Besides that, the paramilitary sons-of-bitches who are the centerpiece of the counterinsurgency, are living off the shit. So if you want to know the real story, girl, every son-of-a-bitch here has got his hands in this crap, from the paramilitaries to the army to the politicians to Uncle Sam and the DEA. It goes with the territory. Drugs are like a great river running through our country, and we who feed upon each other, the lion, the antelope and the vulture, alike, come to drink from its waters. We all need bullets for our guns, and we all need coca for our funds.

ANGELICA: [Cynically] When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

AURELIO: You can be so idealistic that you end up killing your ideals.

ANGELICA: You’re destroying millions of lives with coke and heroin.

AURELIO: We’re not the ones who made the hurricane noses of the gringos, girl. They’ve got a leaky roof inside their soul and haven’t fixed it, so of course the water comes in. If they rip the oil out of our soil, why can’t we rip coke out of their insecurity? If they use our sky to drop bombs on us, why can’t we use their craving to drop bombs on them? They don’t give a f**k about us, and they want the shit. So who’s to blame?

ANGELICA: You’re not a revolutionary, you’re a cynic.

DOLORES: And you never took a hit up the nose? Or smoked it in a pipe?

DOLORES: Never?

TIROTEO: [As Angelica hesitates, Tiroteo assumes, as we all do, that it’s because she has] So, thank us then!

ANGELICA: Go to hell!

AURELIO: The critic exposed!

TIROTEO: It’s always a double standard with these sons-of-bitches!

ANGELICA: Go to hell, I never used coke!

ANGELICA: I don’t use the stuff.

AURELIO: I think the lady protests too much!

ANGELICA: [A pause] I just did a little pot.

ANGELICA: Go to hell, all of you! You’re mean, nothing but a bunch of mean people!

TIROTEO: Say, how’d you like a joint - to loosen up? [He’s making a sexual innuendo] Don’t worry, not too much – even though you’d like it.

ANGELICA: Thug.

AURELIO: How can ideals compete with this?

TIROTEO: Mmm. They say that with coke, people have the illusion that they’re the best lovers in the world, but in actuality - they suck. [He shrugs] Was it as good for you as it was for me?

ANGELICA: I’m glad you’re all having a good time, but I have to pee.

ANGELICA: [Emphatic] I have to pee.

TIROTEO: [To Dolores] I told you not to give her a drink.

DOLORES: Look, this operation isn’t going to end tomorrow, not with the stingy parents she has. Of course she’s got to drink and she’s got to pee. What the hell, you think she’s like the corpse of Saint Bernadette, which just laid there unspoiled and smelling like roses for a century?

TIROTEO: So great, where’s she going to pee? This shithole doesn’t have a shithole.

DOLORES: [Stating the obvious] Over in the corner. Get a pot.

TIROTEO: You’re going to untie her?

DOLORES: Of course. [Looks at Tiroteo, and reacts to his disapproval] Give me a break, this isn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger here. [She begins to untie Angelica. Tiroteo draws his pistol. Dolores repeats to him.] Get a pot. [To Angelica] You do understand that you are a prisoner, and that if you try to f**k with us you’ll pay with your life? [Tiroteo goes to get a pot, which he’ll put in one corner]

ANGELICA: You could really shoot me?

DOLORES: I’m just trying to make sure things go smoothly. Misunderstanding can lead to terrible things. There was a guerrilla, once, who smiled at his captive; and his captive took it as a sign that he could f**k with him, and guess what? The captive ended up dead. There’s a reason why everybody you’ve met till now has looked at you like they were a psychopath. Believe it or not, it’s for your own good. Now just go over there, where I’m pointing, lift your dress up, and pee into the pot.

ANGELICA: But them. [Indicating Aurelio and Tiroteo] They’ll see.

DOLORES: Not unless you want to show them your ass. [Angelica looks at her, so Dolores explains] Just take off your underpants. You don’t have to lift your dress. Stand over the pot and spread your dress out so it doesn’t get wet. Nobody will see a thing.

TIROTEO: What a pretty color it is – what there is of it. A stripper’s bikini.

ANGELICA: Respect, please! I need to pee!

TIROTEO: You want respect, girl, wear decent under garments. That’s the kind of shit hookers wear.

ANGELICA: Have some respect!

TIROTEO: A present from the guy who gave you the Rolex?

ANGELICA: Leave me alone!

DOLORES: [Turning to Tiroteo] Chill. [He gives her a face] No, really. Give her some respect. We’re risking our lives, and it’s not to be remembered by history as a bunch of shits. Just think – "every minute could be my last and there might not be time to mend what’s broken." So don’t drop things made of glass – like your soul.

TIROTEO: Fine, you want some kind of lesbian moment.

AURELIO: [To Tiroteo] Come on, cool it, comrade. [Pointing to Dolores, who is now giving him an awful stare] She runs a seamless show. Don’t get in the way.

TIROTEO: What, Dolores, you want to tell me something?

AURELIO: [Pushing him away] Don’t mess things up! Don’t be a hot head! The prisoner just wants to take a pee, god damn it!

DOLORES: Tiroteo, can you just show a little god-damned respect? Your mother was a woman, and so is she.

TIROTEO: My mother didn’t wear hooker clothes.

ANGELICA: Leave me alone, you have no right!

TIROTEO: "Might makes right." Your president thinks so. The gringos think so. "Might makes right." Who’s got the gun here, do you?

ANGELICA: They’re looking still, aren’t they?

DOLORES: They can’t see anything except your dress.

ANGELICA: I don’t want them to look. It’s rude. It’s not right.

DOLORES: [To the men] Please. Turn around. Look the other way. [Explaining] She’s uncomfortable.

TIROTEO: I don’t like it. She could try something.

DOLORES: For God’s sake. She’s not going to try anything. She’s not a commando. [Looks at them still] Please.

DOLORES: [To Angelica] OK. Do it. They’re not looking.

ANGELICA: Are you sure?

DOLORES: Yes, I’m sure.

ANGELICA: How can you be sure? If you’re watching me? They’re behind you.

TIROTEO: [Turning around] Hey, cut the crap! If you’re going to pee, bitch, pee! Dolores, don’t fall for this shit! It’s straight out of the elementary school escape manual! Bitch, I’m so ready to shoot you!

ANGELICA: [Crying] All I want to do is pee! Please! I just want to pee!

AURELIO: [To Tiroteo] Cool it, kid! It’s under control!

TIROTEO: She’s trying to play with us!

AURELIO: It’s under control! [Reassuring him] It’s under control.

DOLORES: Turn around. [The men do, and Dolores circles in front of Angelica, so that she can watch both her prisoner and the other guerrillas at the same time.] Go on, then, pee.

ANGELICA: You’re sure they’re not looking?

DOLORES: Girl, what’s up with you? You got underwear from Victoria’s Secret and yet you’re acting like a lady from the time of Simon Bolivar! Do you want to pee or not? Look, you’ve got thirty seconds to pee!

ANGELICA: They’ll hear.

DOLORES: What?

ANGELICA: They’ll hear the tinkle.

TIROTEO: What a prima donna of the bladder! Just let her wet herself!

DOLORES: He isn’t looking.

ANGELICA: He’ll hear.

TIROTEO: The piss of the rich! You mean, you urinate also? I thought golden bubbles floated out of your c**t.

ANGELICA: Respect!

DOLORES: Jesus Christ, just piss!

ANGELICA: [Pathetically] He’ll hear.

DOLORES: I’ll drown out the sound. Now piss, god damn it! [Dolores begins to sing] La pobreza es lo que me ha dado la fortuna, aunque paso las noches mirando a la luna, con su cara tan tierna entre las flechas de las estrellas, aguanto mientras que tenga ella. [To Angelica] You finished?

ANGELICA: Yes, thank you.

TIROTEO: Bravo, Dolores! If your aim was as good as your voice, Rodrigo Arboleda would still be alive.

DOLORES: You’re singing makes me sound like a nightingale. That night you were in the shower… I was praying the army would kick the door in and drown you out with machine guns.

TIROTEO: Can we turn around yet, or are you two still busy kissing?

ANGELICA: Respect!

DOLORES: Turn around, you son-of-a bitch!

TIROTEO: [To Angelica] Well, baby feels better now, doesn’t she?

DOLORES: [To Angelica] Don’t answer. Just sit down. I have to tie you up again.

ANGELICA: Please! Couldn’t you let me stretch my legs? I’m miserable. I’ve got cramps.

TIROTEO: It’s never ending! No wonder the bourgeois world can’t stop killing us. With women like these! They drive their husbands and their boyfriends crazy, turn them into furious, savage, enraged cuckolds who have no option but to slaughter the poor. They have to kill someone to prove they’re still men! For every guerrilla killed, there’s a whining bourgeois bitch who drove him to it!

ANGELICA: You are such an ignorant son-of-a-bitch!

TIROTEO: I hope your family comes up short, so we can get rid of you.

AURELIO: That’s not how it’s done, comrade. In that case, we’ll have to hold onto her for even longer. We’ll have to move her to another location. Don’t hope for that, comrade. She could become the new Ingrid. We could be stuck with her for years.

ANGELICA: [To Dolores] It’s too tight! My circulation!

DOLORES: [Checking the ropes] It’s not too tight. But if you try to wiggle your wrists free, the ropes will tighten. Then you will cut off your circulation.

ANGELICA: [Testing the ropes] Ouch! What are you, some kind of expert?

AURELIO: Hello. Yes, it’s me. Yes. Not yet? How much? No, it’s no good. We need the full amount. I don’t care what their account says. They’ve manipulated it. - Tell them to take out a loan. – What do they own? Put it up as collateral. Don’t they have friends? - How many people believe they have friends till they’re in a jam! Then you’ll find out who’s for real! – Did the first installment go on without a hitch? Did they leave it where they said they would? - Why did you break protocol? Aren’t there cameras there?- Fine, fine, so you got the attaché case. Did you check its contents? With a scanner?

DOLORES: Comrade, you’ve been on the phone too long. Cut it short.

AURELIO: It’s not enough. We need the second half of the delivery they promised, and then the rest of what we’re asking for. They can’t talk us down like that. - No, we won’t send them any more photos. They’re cheap bastards is what they are! How could anyone ever expect them to be generous with their country, when they won’t even sell a car to get their daughter back.

DOLORES: Comrade! You’re spending too long on the phone and saying too much.

AURELIO: Don’t ease up. No, not one bit! We’re not cutting them any more slack. The terms are final. They’ve got to come through. We’re keeping our side of the bargain. She’s being treated well.

AURELIO: OK. Ok. Remember, they’re the ones who are trying to break you with those sob stories. You’re the one who’s got to make sure you don’t crack. - Yes, yes. You can’t waver. Any sign of weakness in your voice, and they’ll latch onto it. They’ll play the card of "We can’t." Meanwhile, the authorities will be closing in.

DOLORES: Comrade, for God’s sake, end the call!

AURELIO: [To the man on the phone:] All right. All right. Good-bye!

DOLORES: Jesus! The gringos got all kinds of intercepts going, satellites, listening posts; the f**king DAS is like NASA now; what are you showing your nuts to the world for? We can’t be so unguarded in the atmosphere! That’s how they got that son-of-a-bitch Escobar!

AURELIO: And what about Bin Laden? He’ll get cancer from his cell phone before they track him from his calls.

DOLORES: It’s just not wise.

ANGELICA: So, what’s going on? Did my family pay or not?

AURELIO: They’re playing with us, girl. It’s like trying to buy a f**king blanket in the market place. We name a price, they try to bring it down, we go down a little, they want us to go down more, we say no, they say there’s a tear in the fabric here, we say tough shit, they say the edges are frayed. You’re frayed, girl, and you got a tear, and you got a stain. God damn it, what a bunch of hagglers! Are your ancestors Jews?

ANGELICA: That’s a very primitive statement, "comrade." My family’s too poor to pay your price, and that’s it. If I was Jewish I’d be proud to be, but I’m not.

AURELIO: What a puny way to be a humanitarian! To defend yourself from an expression!

TIROTEO: Poor? Oh my God! Poor? POOR?! Poor girls don’t drive Toyotas!

ANGELICA: You’re asking for too much! They can’t pay! You have to give them a realistic price!

TIROTEO: We already gave them bargain rates! Face it, you mean nothing to them! And no wonder! You’re the kind of girl who not even her own parents could love! Nothing but a spoiled crybaby! Aurelio, we made a big mistake to kidnap such an unwanted bitch!

ANGELICA: It’s not true! My parents love me! You’re asking for too much! You’re going to ruin them! They must be suffering so much for me, right now, my father’s heart isn’t good! This could end up killing him!

TIROTEO: Then the estate goes over to your mother. All she has to do is sign a f**king paper.

ANGELICA: You don’t understand!

AURELIO: Look, I’m tired. This thing is going to go on for a while. Cheap bastards! I need to take my shift.

TIROTEO: To sleep?

AURELIO: That’s right. I’ll sleep on the floor, in the front. Tiroteo, come with me, stay by the door. Dolores, stay here in the back with the prisoner. And please, whatever you do, don’t let her wear you out with her weakness. Weakness is a tremendous weapon and it’s clear she’s trying to use it against us. Never forget: If we’re not careful, we’ll end up becoming prisoners of the prisoner. It happens all the time. They’re tied up in a chair, but we are tied up by our pity for them. Don’t let her in. [He points to his heart] Don’t let her into your heart, Dolores. She’ll destroy you.

DOLORES: I understand, comrade.

AURELIO: I’ll relieve you in four hours.

DOLORES: Right.

ANGELICA: Do you think it’s true?

DOLORES: What?

ANGELICA: That my parents don’t love me?

DOLORES: How should I know?

ANGELICA: From your experience? Would most families have paid up by now?

DOLORES: This is dragging on too long. You’re not a big-enough return on the time and resources we’ve invested in you. We could have done better.

ANGELICA: My family isn’t as wealthy as you think. They are just more generous than others. They spend instead of save. They spend on the ones they love.

DOLORES: So then, I guess they love you. Does that answer your question?

ANGELICA: [After a while] So what happens if they don’t pay? [Silence] I mean – do you let me go? You don’t – you don’t? [She means "kill me?"]

DOLORES: That’s not my decision. Most likely we hold onto you. If you become too much of a liability, that could change.

ANGELICA: [Begins to cry] Oh my God…

DOLORES: Just stay calm. Nothing’s going to happen anytime soon. If we decide to push harder, we’ll make the threat before we carry it out.

ANGELICA: It’s not fair! I’m not a bad girl, Dolores. I’m not, I’m not. I have a little brother, and I was always very kind to him. The kids used to pick on him in school, because his ears were big. Imagine! For such a small thing! He was ashamed to tell our father, who believed that boys must be tough. But when I found out, well, I went to the school which he attended to pick him up. Every day, I walked him home. I wouldn’t let anybody pick on him. I threw stones at the boy who was the worst bully of all, and, in fact, one of the stones I threw hit him in the eye and they thought he was going to go blind. I got in trouble, but I didn’t care. Nobody picked on my brother after that.

DOLORES: Did he grow up to be a homosexual?

ANGELICA: No! He grew up to be a very fine boy.

DOLORES: Even though his sister fought his battles for him?

ANGELICA: There were too many bullies – it was like a gang of wolves! They would have killed him!

DOLORES: And what does your brother do now?

ANGELICA: He’s studying art. He makes very accurate portraits. Imagine, he’s only beginning high school, and he’s already making incredible sketches. He made one of me that looks more like me than I do!

DOLORES: [Smiling slightly] Does he know how to plant corn and beans? How to harvest yucca and platano? Does he know how to cut sugar cane, can he feed it to a trapiche? Can he milk a cow? Can he tell a ripe coffee bean from one that’s not fit to pick?

ANGELICA: He’s studying to be an artist. – [Observing Dolores’ face] Oh, I see, that doesn’t count! That’s a bourgeois luxury! You despise me for even mentioning it! Who needs art, when we have bananas growing in our trees? I’ll be sure, if I ever make it home, to stab every one of his pictures like the portrait of Dorian Grey! [Silence. Then, upset:] Look, I defended my brother from bullies, I’m not the worthless bitch you think I am!

DOLORES: You defended your brother. I am defending my country. I guess you understand, then, why you’re here.

ANGELICA: It’s different.

DOLORES: You’re right. You never saw beyond your home. For you, justice was for your family only, not for your people. If you really cared, you would have joined the guerrillas. You would have accepted all Colombia as your family.

ANGELICA: What, and shoot people? No thanks. [Sings from the Beatles, Revolution:] "But if you go talking about destruction, don’t you know that you can count me out?"

DOLORES: What’s that, the language of your masters?

ANGELICA: I don’t want to kill people, Dolores.

DOLORES: You don’t have clarity, girl. That’s a principle that only leads to impotence. It doesn’t work here. Say you have to get to the moon or your mother is going to die, but you say, it’s against my principles to use a rocket. So how are you going to get there? - How are you going to get there? You leave the dirty work of history to the brave. Bottom line is you don’t care, girl. Stop pretending.

ANGELICA: I do care, more than you know! How dare you tell me who I am, and what I feel in my heart! I do care!

DOLORES: Then join us. Join the guerrillas.

ANGELICA: What, like Patty Hearst? Put on a mask and rob a bank, and then, if I’m caught, say I’m sorry? I’m sorry, but I’m too smart for that. Your Marxist ideology is like a poster that’s yellow with age, with old glue on the back. Stick it to the wall of any thinking person, and it just falls off. It’s the most boring, roundabout way to say "I hate you, I want what you have," that was ever invented. Did you ever read Das Kapital? Reading that crap is like shoving sandpaper up your ass.

DOLORES: Karl Marx knew what he was talking about.

ANGELICA: I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure you learned everything there is to know about how the world works, the same way you learned how to take a gun apart and put it back together in the dark.

ANGELICA: Marxism is a philosophy which glorifies envy, Dolores. Development doesn’t happen equally. You have to have faith that what’s left behind will catch up. You develop dynamic leading sectors, and they pull the rest of the economy forward.

DOLORES: The engine of the train isn’t coupled to the rest of the train, girl. If somebody’s got to wait for food on their plate, why us, why not you?

ANGELICA: I kept my grandmother company when she was dying of cancer. [Dolores is surprised by Angelica’s new line of conversation, which is once again meant to prove her human value] It was very painful, she couldn’t talk, she was coughing all the time and she didn’t have the strength to do anything except to lie down on the sofa, and try to remember the good times of her life that were over. How she clung to them! There was the boy who used to ferry her across the Cauca river, before she met her husband. Alberto. She began to whisper his name, to cry it out in the night when she was no longer aware of what she was doing. I put ice on her head when she was feverish, I held her hand when the fear of dying came into her eyes. You could see the look of panic. She was in agony, but didn’t want to let go. I brought her water when she was thirsty – just like you brought me water today. She could barely drink, she could hardly swallow. She suffered: just to swallow a mouthful of water was almost more than she could stand. Finally, they began to feed her through tubes. I held her hand, I tried to help her hold onto her humanity. [Dolores regards her] I’m not a bad person, Dolores! I don’t deserve to be treated like I was some kind of terrible criminal, like I was some sick Nazi doctor who vivisected twins or gassed the Jews. [More silence] God damn it, we’re both Colombians.

ANGELICA: Isn’t that bourgeois?

DOLORES: These are the nails of a fighter, girl. This hand is perfect for clutching a hand grenade, this one for pulling a trigger.

ANGELICA: Is that the only kind of girl that you respect? A guerrillera? Or maybe some girl who works in a factory? Clipping flowers, or washing bananas, or sewing clothes and going blind? Exploited? Does she have to die young not to be a sinner? And what about the rest of us? Nothing but social butterflies, spoiled brats, decorations, eye candy? The ones who bake pastries for soldiers before they go out into the streets with bayonets, the ones who give blow jobs to dictators?

ANGELICA: So, how did you get into this? I mean – how did you become a guerrilla? Were you born in one of the encampments? Were you always a guerrilla?

ANGELICA: They say that Indians are as silent as stone. - I thought the FARC was killing Indians. - They say you don’t waste words. You don’t talk with strangers. I remember the part in La Voragine when Rivera wrote that the two Indian guides were sitting alone and apart from the rest of the expedition, like two sad, gray ducks. – [Sings] One, little two, little three little Indians. - Jesus Christ, don’t you have anything to say? - I just want to know you, Dolores, I want to know where you’re coming from, why you’re doing this! If I ever get out alive, I want to know. Maybe, I can do my part to make peace if I know what’s driven you to this!

DOLORES: I had a family, too, once.

DOLORES: We started out in Cauca. Pretty much from when I can remember, there was the coca. It’s a beautiful plant - do you know it? [Angelica shakes her head NO] I picked a lot of leaves in my day, and I consider it an honor. It’s a sacred plant, though the way the world uses it is obscene. [A pause] At first, the people had mixed feelings about the guerrillas, they didn’t always respect our culture. They also kept us from reclaiming lands that were ours, whenever the big landowners paid them off. They felt they had to honor la vacuna.

ANGELICA: Business before justice.

DOLORES: It isn’t easy to keep a movement going for so long without the flame dying down. Revolutions are like bursts of light in history, usually they conquer the world or die; when they neither win nor lose, the fire has no choice but to become dimmer, otherwise it will burn out. The sprint is beautiful, everybody believes in it; the long-distance pace is uglier, but it’s all that’s left if you want to keep on running.

ANGELICA: You’re making excuses.

DOLORES: I’m explaining reality.

ANGELICA: But what about you, Dolores? I’m not asking about the history you’ve learned in some jungle school, along with the mechanics of firing an AK-47, or crossing a river.

ANGELICA: So you joined them because they defended the coke?

DOLORES: [After a pause] Sure.

ANGELICA: But there’s more to it, isn’t there?

ANGELICA: I know it may be personal. But here I am, tied up in a chair, at your mercy, Dolores. I deserve to know why. You and me – we’re connected now, forever. Destiny’s tied us together with a knot. What else? [Silence] Please.

DOLORES: Paramilitaries.

ANGELICA: They came to your community?

DOLORES: They knew there were guerrillas there. Fifteen kilometers away from where we lived, there’s a vereda. They came with power saws, like the ones that are used to cut down trees. They came straight out of some god-damned gringo movie, which is where they get their ideas from, and their names, like Rambo and Van Damme. They tied up five people they accused of being with the guerrillas, and there, they cut them into pieces. And then, when they found out that one of the people they were looking for had died the week before of natural causes, they went to her grave and dug her up so they could cut her into pieces, too. And they made everybody who they did not kill watch.

ANGELICA: That’s not true! That’s too sick to be true! This is the kind of twisted propaganda the guerrillas feed you to make you hate and kill! I’d kill, too, if I believed that shit!

ANGELICA: Not the government! The paramilitaries!

DOLORES: Don’t play dumb! You go to the university, but it seems I’ve learned more from the treetops.

ANGELICA: The government is disarming the paramilitaries.

DOLORES: Take your head out of the sand, sister! Janus Colombia has two faces. One face smiles and the other face kills. One hand holds a declaration of rights, and the other holds a knife. The paramilitaries disband, give up their guns, and go through the revolving door to form another organization, just like the one that was just dismantled. The weapons they surrendered to the army go straight back into their hands, because everybody knows that they work together. The army needs the paramilitaries to carry out the dirty work that it’s not allowed to do. It pretends to hunt them down while it helps them to escape! We’re being slaughtered like pigs, Angelica, and meanwhile, people like you are in the store, struggling to pick out the most beautiful dress from the rack.

ANGELICA: It’s not like that, Dolores. [Silence] It’s not like that at all. [More silence] It’s so hard to know where the truth really lies.

DOLORES: It’s not hard when you hear chain saws in the night.

ANGELICA: Dolores – the paramilitaries – was your family involved? [Silence. Angelica becomes alarmed] Was someone you know a victim of that massacre?

DOLORES: They were my people, Angelica. Do you think the only ones you can suffer for are your parents and your children? Is that how it is with the rich?

ANGELICA: I’m not rich, god damn it, or I’d be out of here by now! My parents can’t scrape up the god-damned money to free me! I wish I was rich! A rich son-of-a-bitch like Arboleda! [Silence] I’m sorry. This is all very upsetting. So, where is your family, now? [Senses there is something hard here] Are they all right?

DOLORES: Two brothers are with the guerrillas. One brother and three sisters, and my mother are living in the city.

ANGELICA: Which one?

DOLORES: You don’t need to know that.

ANGELICA: Are they doing well?

DOLORES: Selling empanadas, assembling jewelry, repairing shoes. Is that doing well?

ANGELICA: And your father? [Silence] I love my father so much. He knows so many things. I remember the globe he bought me when I was a little girl. I placed it on my desk, I used to spin it around and look at all the countries of the world.

DOLORES: Did you ever spin your globe to Colombia?

ANGELICA: I’m sorry, I’m exhausted. I’m out of my mind from the stress of everything. I’m not like you, Dolores, I’m not that tough.

DOLORES: You never had to be.

ANGELICA: I simply couldn’t be. But I was asking about your father. I don’t want to seem so self-absorbed, like everything you tell me just leads back to me, like every story you tell me must be topped by one of mine. I don’t want to live up to your expectations of my class. Your father, Dolores. Is he still around? [Dolores smiles bitterly] I feel a chill, like a ghost just walked into the room.

DOLORES: The ghost is in my heart. It’s why I am with the guerrillas.

ANGELICA: What happened? I’m so sorry, Dolores, what happened?!

DOLORES: What’s the point?

ANGELICA: In telling? Stories free us, Dolores. Silence devours us.

DOLORES: Everyone loves their father. What else needs to be said?

ANGELICA: [Now genuinely affected] What happened? Please tell me.

DOLORES: He was a good man. I remember once, when I fell into the river as a child. It was off of a promontory and the water there was fast and deep. I remember how quickly he jumped in after me. He seized me like a hawk diving from the sky seizes a fish out of the water. He was always like that. He hardly spoke, except with his eyes. They said a million things. I remember many conversations he had with me, with his eyes alone. His mouth could be full, eating mango or guava, and we could still talk. He used to take me fishing with him, because he respected my patience. I thought he was eternal, like the waters we cast our lines into.

ANGELICA: What happened?

DOLORES: Guerillas had passed through. Paramilitaries came and rounded up four of our men. Their information was inaccurate.

ANGELICA: The saws?

DOLORES: No. They did it with a 9 mm. I saw them take my father away. I heard the shots from the other side of the hill. [She chokes back tears]

ANGELICA: I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Dolores! - I’m sorry.

ANGELICA: I mean it. That’s not the kind of country I want. I mean, I don’t want to be tied up here, either. But that’s not what I stand for. What they did… I want my country to be pure, not divided. I don’t want to feel dirty about my pleasures. I don’t want to have to be perfect. But I don’t want to sweep all the unpleasant things under the rug either. I don’t want my laughter to depend on someone else’s weeping. I want things to be better, Dolores. Do people like us have to be strangers to each other?

DOLORES: Everybody is ashamed of evil. But only a few fight against it. Words are like smoke, Angelica, a little wind scatters them, and it’s like they were never there. What have you done for your people, Angelica? We – we are the backs on which you stand. What have you done for us?

ANGELICA: Nothing till now, Dolores. But today, I’ve listened to you, and that’s a start.

DOLORES: In one ear and out the other.

ANGELICA: I won’t choose your path, Dolores. But because I understand it, I think I may be able to make a new path - tomorrow, once I am free of these ropes with which you’ve bound me: a path which is neither yours, nor the one that drove you to yours. Something in between…

DOLORES: Here, there’s no middle ground.

ANGELICA: There has to be: some place between revenge and revenge. - Don’t you ever wish you could stop fighting?

DOLORES: It’s not disciplined to think that way. It’s a daydream, Angelica. People are killed by their daydreams. Guadalupe Salcedo was killed by his daydream. Carlos Pizarro was killed by his. The mountains and the jungles are not kind to those who forsake them, they are like jealous lovers that make the unfaithful pay. The ballot box is always booby-trapped with an assassin. In Mexico, Zapata came riding in on his white horse to talk about peace, and while the mariachis played, the machine guns opened fire. Here, Angelica, it’s even worse. This war will last forever.

ANGELICA: Dolores! We can start to make the road to peace. Just you and I. We can begin the flight of the dove, we can pluck olive branches from the cross roads where we’ve met, we can take the first step of a new nation. We’re different – so different – but our differences can fit together!

DOLORES: You need to get some sleep, Angelica. You’re practically hallucinating.

ANGELICA: Dolores – don’t you feel the same?

ANGELICA: Don’t you feel, with a few small changes, that we could be sisters?

DOLORES: You need to get some sleep, girl. We’re as different as day and night. All I need is to untie you, and you’ll be back in the middle of some shopping spree. A million people will be buried underneath your happiness.

ANGELICA: It’s not true, Dolores. You underestimate me. You don’t see who I am. Your eyes can’t see people, only classes, only orders.

DOLORES: Enough, girl. Don’t make me gag you. Cut this crap about sisters. You’re as bourgeois as it gets, with your books, your clothes, your car, your admirers; I’m just a god-damned montan~era who only knows how to shoot a gun. We have nothing in common except for this moment. Stop trying to turn it into more than it is.

ANGELICA: Dolores. I want you to feel what I feel. If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t hate me.

DOLORES: I don’t hate you, Angelica.

ANGELICA: You do!

DOLORES: I don’t. To quote you, don’t tell me what’s in my heart. I know what’s in there better than you do. [After a while:] I don’t hate you, I just know we belong to different worlds, and they’ll never meet except in war.

ANGELICA: I don’t want to accept that. Why can’t we change things, Dolores? Why can’t we? We don’t need to wait for the rest of the country to catch up! We don’t have to follow it, we can lead it.

DOLORES: [Hearing something] Shhh!

ANGELICA: What?

DOLORES: Shhh! [She draws her gun, looking towards the front.] Tiroteo! Look out the eyehole. I heard guns being loaded.

TIROTEO’S VOICE: Aurelio! Wake up! Something’s up!

AURELIO’S VOICE: What? What is it?

ANGELICA: What’s happening?

DOLORES: Shhh!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: I can’t see anybody.

AURELIO’S VOICE: There’s nobody in the street. All clear.

DOLORES: They’re already in the vestibule, you sons of bitches. I heard the clips going in.

TIROTEO’S VOICE: She’s imagining shit. She’s tired. Three nights ago, in the barn, she thought birds were bats.

DOLORES: Aurelio, don’t let him dismiss me! Hearing doesn’t have anything to do with the size of your d**k!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: Make her shut up, comrade!

AURELIO’S VOICE: Quiet, both of you! Take defensive positions. Dolores, you know your job. There’s no way out through the back.

DOLORES: I told you this hideout was a tactical blunder!

AURELIO’S VOICE: Dolores! If we’re attacked from the front and can’t fight our way out, it’s up to you to finish off the prisoner. Tiroteo, move over there. We’ll set up a crossfire.

DOLORES: That’s right, you heard him. If they come in with an assault team, you get popped. They have to learn, for the next time, that these kind of rescue missions don’t work. They’ll only end up losing the people they come to save. [Looks at Angelica again] Sorry, but we’re not sisters.

TIROTEO’S VOICE: [After a while] We’re getting worked up for nothing. There’s nobody out there.

AURELIO’S VOICE: Shhh! I hear something!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: What?

AURELIO’S VOICE: Breathing. Creaking. Damn it!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: Maybe it’s rats!

AURELIO’S VOICE: Damn it! Aim for their faces, Tiroteo, we only have hand guns. They’re sure to have body armor. They’re f**king commandos. Damn it!

AURELIO’S VOICE: [He’s been hit] F**k!

A SOLDIER’S VOICE: He’s not dead yet!

ANOTHER SOLDIER’S VOICE: [He’s hit] Ahhh! Mother!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: Kill the bitch, Dolores! Now!

TIROTEO’S VOICE: Now, or I’ll come in and do it myself!

DOLORES: Bitch!

TIROTEO: [Staggering back into the back room where Dolores is. He is bloody and furious.] Did you finish her? Did you finish her?

DOLORES: She’s gone you bastard! Didn’t you hear me shoot her?

SOLDIER 2: [Discovering Angelica] Here she is!

SOLDIER 1: Is she alive?

SOLDIER 2: She’s alive! She’s alive!

SOLDIER 1: Are you all right? [Angelica is weeping] Untie her. You’re going to be all right now, Angelica. We’re in control here. You’re going to be all right. By tomorrow night, you can even be at home. Are you sure you’re all right?

SOLDIER 2: She’s all right.

SOLDIER 1: I asked her, not you!

ANGELICA: I’m OK! I’m OK!

SOLDIER 1: All right, let’s get her out of here.

SOLDIER 3: [Observing that Dolores, gunned down on the floor, is still alive] Sir – this one’s still alive.

SOLDIER 1: Damn bitch, she killed one of ours! [He takes his weapon and points it at her on the floor]

ANGELICA: No! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!

ANGELICA: No! You shot her!

SOLDIER 1: She would have done the same to you.

ANGELICA: No, you don’t understand! She’s my sister! She and I – the new Colombia!

SOLDIER 2: [Looking at Soldier 1, confused] Sir?

SOLDIER 1: She’s been through a lot. Sometimes, they identify with their captors, it’s a survival technique. She’ll need therapy.

ANGELICA: You don’t understand!

SOLDIER 1: [To soldier 2] Get her out of here. She’s been traumatized enough. Get her into one of the cars.

ANGELICA: Dolores! They don’t understand! I won’t forget you! I know I can’t make the new Colombia all by myself! You have to help me! From Heaven you have to help me!

SOLDIER 1: This one, Miss, is going straight to Hell.

SOLDIER 1: You’ll feel better after you get some rest, Miss. Come on.

ANGELICA: Today, two rivers met, and frothing and turbulent, their waters mixed. There a whirlpool formed, and in it, I lost my ignorance, sucked to the bottom of the current. Dolores, my enemy, my sister! Thank you! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you! Together, we’ll do what all the guns of the world could not!

THE END

NOTES ON PRISONER BINDING:

Following is a technical note on the binding of the prisoner. Various approaches may be used. Hands and feet bound to chair; hands bound to each other and feet bound to each other, prisoner sitting loose in chair. Hands bound to each other, prisoner attached to chair by rope around the throat (leash), with feet also bound, or unbound. Etc.

Considerations for the director:

Best possibilities for dramatic movement of the actress who plays Angelica, while making it clear that she is restrained.

Should the prisoner be bound to the chair as it is pushed over (in the end scene), or is that too hard on the actress? Should it be possible for Dolores to merely throw Angelica out of the chair (bound prisoner not attached to chair)?

For the tactical realist, it seems that the guerrillas would adjust the prisoner’s binding to make her mobile in the end scene, so that they could take her with them if they managed to escape. But in no case must the director’s effort to inject this tactical realism into the scene lead viewers to believe that Dolores is taking off the prisoner’s restraints to let her go. Either some additional dialogue could be inserted to clarify this, or else the "leash/unbound feet" arrangement of binding could be used throughout the play, in which case, Dolores would detach the leash from the chair in the end scene but hold it tightly in her hand, making it clear that it was not her intention to free the prisoner.