—"We need someone to distract them with the supplies truck," Torres says, looking for a volunteer.
—"Torres, I'll draw their attention. I'll take them as far away as I can," Almánzar responds.
—"We can't afford to lose the convoy leader—don't be reckless, Almánzar. Only you can keep your men's spirits up."
—"So what are you suggesting? That we stay here and die doing nothing?"
—"It must be someone else."
—"Boss, let me go—I'm the best driver!" Vásquez jumps in.
—"Vásquez! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Almánzar asks his best friend.
—"Those doctors matter more than us. That's why we must protect them. If they keep dying, all this will have been for nothing."
—"What am I supposed to tell your beloved Catrina and little Joaquín if something happens to you?"
—"Don't worry, boss… I'll be fine! There's no time to waste. We already lost an engineer—I won't let the only people who can stop this calamity die."
—"Almánzar, it's our only way out. Soon we'll be surrounded and we'll all die if we don't move them. I need a driver—anybody."
—"Then I'll choose someone else."
—"There's no time, and I'm the best. I promise to come back and I'll remember what you owe me, boss," Vásquez says before climbing into his vehicle with four soldiers, including Polanco.
—"This must be a joke," Almánzar holds tightly onto his friend's shoulder. "Make sure you come back, Juan… please."
Vásquez and his team charged at the approaching riders, taking two of them down, while the guards fired wildly at the loss of their comrades. During the confrontation, no rider could get close without being hit by the guards' firewall. López and his team managed to unlock the mechanism and raise the gate, while Almánzar and the convoy drivers moved the vehicles and we carried the wounded.
—"I understand, Almánzar. I've just lost seven of my men and they can't even have a proper burial. The fair thing is that these doctors survive; as long as they do their duty, the deaths of the others won't have been in vain."
The Ramón gate fully opened and we entered, waiting for our comrades to hold the line. The vehicles rolled into María's rotten lands.
—"Guys, it's time to pull out!" Vásquez shouted to the guards.
To our horror, three guards had been killed and mutilated. Polanco, fearful and wounded, ran toward the gate. Vásquez, gripped by panic, fled as well.
—"Captain, here they come! Two of them survived!" Vidal exclaimed, excited.
—"Bring the gate down," Torres ordered.
—"What… what are you doing? You can't leave them behind!" Vidal protested, his face etched with shock.
—"It's a hard decision, but necessary. The sacrifice of a few ensures the survival of many," Torres said with regret.
—"It's inhuman!" Taveras retorted, voice full of both anger and sorrow.
—"In times of war, humanity is often eclipsed by survival," Duarte murmured, trying to justify the unjustifiable.
—"Just when I thought you couldn't sink lower, you do, Duarte," González fires back.
—"Living at the cost of others' lives? That's the worst excuse I've ever heard," Vidal shouts.
The Ramón gate closed inexorably, and with every inch it descended, the fate of Vásquez and Polanco was sealed with a grim end. Their faces, soaked in sweat and dust, reflected visceral terror, a sudden understanding that their end was near. There were no words to describe the panic overwhelming them, a fear so deep it stole their breath and froze their hearts.
—"Captain, please!" Polanco pleaded, his voice breaking under the weight of betrayal. "You can't do this! I'm going to be a father… my child needs me."
But the answer was silence—silence that screamed louder than any words. The gate slammed shut with a definitive thud, and the world for Vásquez and Polanco shrank to a narrow corridor of death, with riders approaching like birds of prey. López, eyes wide, desperately searched for any sign of mercy in his comrades' faces on the other side. But all he found were averted gazes—eyes that couldn't face the reality of what they'd done.
The horror of betrayal felt worse than the plague ravaging the country—an awful mix of incredulity and despair. They had been abandoned, left to die by those they trusted, by those with whom they'd shared drinks, laughter, and dreams. Hours ago they'd told stories and embraced each other to the rhythm of song. Now, those same comrades had become judge and executioner, sentencing them without remorse.
—"You did what had to be done. Now we move on," López said, though his voice trembled, revealing the inner storm he fought to contain.
—"I can't believe this is happening—since when are lives interchangeable like chess pieces?" Vidal asks.
—"Since misfortune besieged the weak!" Torres shouts, throat tight. "I'm not asking you to share my sin… just shut up and accept it."
—"Captain, open the gate, please—don't let us die here," Polanco implores.
—"Thanks for your service, soldiers… the gate mechanism is being destroyed to keep the enemy out. Thanks to your brave effort, the doctors are safe," López acknowledges, sharing some of Torres's burden.
—"You're kidding… right, López?"
—"I'm sorry, Polanco, but it's not a joke."
—"Captain! What the hell are you waiting for to open? Hurry!" cries Vázquez, battling on.
—"Vázquez, I'm sorry you had to give your life for the good of the country and others… you will be remembered as a hero," Torres urges.
—"Now is not the time for jokes."
—"The bastard isn't joking, Vázquez," Polanco replies.
—"Boss, please help us, don't leave us!" Vázquez yells, desperation echoing.
—"I'm… I'm sorry, Vázquez. The mechanism is destroyed and there's no way to raise the gate again… sorry," Almánzar apologizes, knowing how it would end when he allowed Vázquez to go as bait.
—"Boss—" he moves to the gate after killing a rider. "Look at me! Have the courage to look me in the eye and say it again… look at me!" he screams. "Does it seem fun to send us as meat to the wolves? We're nothing more than replaceable vehicle parts to you! We promised to reunite with our families—you promised… you promised to bring us back to our loved ones."
—"I… I didn't want this to happen, Vásquez."
—"And you, Captain… are the biggest piece of trash I've ever met. You don't deserve to be called a hero. You send others to die for you—doesn't your conscience weigh on you? Oh, right—you don't have one."
Vásquez, with the resolve of a man who has nothing left to lose, confronted his pursuers. His fight was fierce, but in his heart he knew it was futile. Polanco, wounded and alone, crawled toward the false safety of the gate, his blood leaving a sombre trail in the earth—earth soon to be fertilized by his body.
The battle cries turned to pleas, and the pleas into deadly silence. The Ramón gate, now closed, became the threshold between life and death, between hope and utter desolation.
Inside, the survivors couldn't escape the lamentations they'd ignored, the lives they had sacrificed. The victory—if it could even be called that—was stained with the blood of their own brothers.
Torres ordered the convoy to move out, as the enemy was very close and we could hear how they cursed us. After the curses, their voices turned into desperate pleas, begging mercy from those moments ago trying to take their lives.
Throughout the conflict I remained a spectator; a mere zero on the sidelines with no voice or strength to do or say anything.
—"Please forgive me… I didn't mean to kill yours, forgive me, I have a family."
Those were Vásquez's last words before being brutally killed before the eyes of those who called themselves his comrades—and with whom he had shared drinks and a melancholy wish to return to see his beloved and son the previous night.
Etched into our memories were the last moments of the transport driver Juan Vásquez and guard Alberto Polanco.
The Ramón gate became the thunderous witness resonating in our hearts until death. With its closure, the lives of those left outside went out. Those inside now faced a deafening silence—a void full of unanswered questions and broken lives.
The convoy moved on, leaving behind Redonda Lagoon and the echoes of a lost battle that had cost more than anyone was willing to pay. The shadow of death loomed over them, but also the hope that the sacrifice had not been in vain.
In the land of Santa Catha, eleven guards, one scientist, and one driver died.
The entrance to the hell they spoke of materialized in a chain of events that drove our group to make unethical choices.