Norberto came home more nervous, tired and tense than usual. They return home every evening, with the feeling that any of them could be the last, that's not sharing Nora concern, made the journey home was not at all a promise of relief, peace, rest, but another link in the chain of stresses and shocks that life constrituía. On the street he felt insecure, chased, stalked by each pedestrian, threatened by every vehicle that could run him down and kill it at any time, for what could have gotten into this! Sometimes it seemed it was all a game. No one knew of its existence, that their actions had no meaning, that going to the mailbox, and remove and deposit packages were simply natural acts of innocent personal correspondence, to receive and distribute instructions was something penaba anyone because no one hurt, that the words "resistance", "guerrilla", "freedom" and "political" and so on., it meant nothing and were only meaningless phonemes. Other times, until the light of changing traffic lights seemed a death threat.
came home. Not open the door without being quite sure that nobody watched. The words of the phone is still ringing in their ears. It was common for the phone to ring, and answering only heard a harsh voice, cavernous announcing his death that afternoon. He was often. Sometimes he impressed more than others. Today, for example, was something different, and perhaps would be original. The voice had told him to turn on the TV when the news and that "there would know how they die." He almost laughed, because the sentence seemed to him of stupidity, but as he neared home, the words were growing in significance, and accounted for its strangeness, almost a challenge, the TV, and when the news ! Why? Why not at any time? This, in some way away any chance they had planted a bomb in your TV, or that he had been electrified, or something ... Take precautions just in case.
Nora had not yet arrived. Poor Nora! Good wife in the few years they had been married. He shared his political ideal, but given the delicacy of their mission-mail strategy, was not allowed to reveal to him his wife his true activities. Nora perhaps believed that their participation in the movement was spiritual support. If even sometimes wondered why he had not enlisted in the ranks of the rebels, as they had no children and shared in full with the same ideal, with the same enthusiasm and fighting spirit. He, with different arguments, had deterred. Poor Nora! If I knew he was - and probably will be - constantly monitored, constantly pursued ... Closed the front door locked and the pin. Nora was not alarmed if stuck, as I was accustomed to the "eccentricities" of her husband. On the other hand, Nora always carried the master key that opened the pins. Slowly, as I had plenty of time, and go relax the nerves, went to the bar and poured himself a whiskey and soda. The warmth of the drink as it slid down her throat and filled his chest, returned some encouragement.
The house was small. Checked the windows and the kitchen door. All perfectly locked and barred. He had no more than turn on the TV and watch the news while waiting for Nora to return from the hairdresser. By the way, took a screwdriver from his toolbox (prodigy housekeeping) and removed the back of the appliance for a bomb. I knew there was nothing there, and I knew I could not have, plus there was no trace that anyone had entered the house during his absence, or Nora. They were methodical to a fault, so the movement had chosen as e-strategy. Any dish, any box or cabinet slightly out of place, all would have been crumpled pillow suspicious. Nothing found. Sure, there was nothing! He put the lid.
turned on the TV. A batch of notices. He finished the round. The announcer announced the news program. The soft blue-white light of the television became more brightness, much greater brightness, the blue turned pink, red, purple, all in a split second ...
When Nora returned, the first thing that struck his nose was a strong smell of barbecue. Strong.
He went to the living. In the darkness, the TV was working normally, conveying the news of the day. The smell came from something horribly burned, on the couch watching TV. ***************
General Pacheco, between 1971 and 1975
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