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"
Get
ahead
.
Get
ahead
,
"
the
man
shouted
,
still
holding
the
safe
-
conduct
pass
in
his
hand
.
"
And
my
paper
,
"
Gomez
spoke
to
him
.
"
My
safe
-
conduct
.
We
are
in
a
hurry
.
"
"
Take
thy
safe
-
conduct
to
hell
,
"
the
man
said
and
handing
it
to
him
ran
across
the
road
to
halt
a
down
-
coming
truck
.
"
Turn
thyself
at
the
crossroads
and
put
thyself
in
position
to
pull
this
wreck
forward
,
"
he
said
to
the
driver
.
"
My
orders
are
—
—
"
"
Obscenity
thy
orders
.
Do
as
I
say
.
"
The
driver
let
his
truck
into
gear
and
rolled
straight
ahead
down
the
road
and
was
gone
in
the
dust
.
As
Gomez
started
the
motorcycle
ahead
onto
the
now
clear
right
-
hand
side
of
the
road
past
the
wrecked
truck
,
Andrés
,
holding
tight
again
,
saw
the
control
guard
halting
another
truck
and
the
driver
leaning
from
the
cab
and
listening
to
him
.
Now
they
went
fast
,
swooping
along
the
road
that
mounted
steadily
toward
the
mountain
.
All
forward
traffic
had
been
stalled
at
the
control
and
there
were
only
the
descending
trucks
passing
,
passing
and
passing
on
their
left
as
the
motorcycle
climbed
fast
and
steadily
now
until
it
began
to
overtake
the
mounting
traffic
which
had
gone
on
ahead
before
the
disaster
at
the
control
.
Still
without
lights
they
passed
four
more
armored
cars
,
then
a
long
line
of
trucks
loaded
with
troops
.
The
troops
were
silent
in
the
dark
and
at
first
Andrés
only
felt
their
presence
rising
above
him
,
bulking
above
the
truck
bodies
through
the
dust
as
they
passed
.
Then
another
staff
came
behind
them
blasting
with
its
klaxon
and
flicking
its
lights
off
and
on
,
and
each
time
the
lights
shone
Andrés
saw
the
troops
,
steel
-
helmeted
,
their
rifles
vertical
,
their
machine
guns
pointed
up
against
the
dark
sky
,
etched
sharp
against
the
night
that
they
dropped
into
when
the
light
flicked
off
.
Once
as
he
passed
close
to
a
troop
truck
and
the
lights
flashed
he
saw
their
faces
fixed
and
sad
in
the
sudden
light
.
