A remote place. A village hidden by mountains. A place where the federales couldn’t find him. Still, DJ didn’t think it was safe for him. It was at one of the villages DJ had said the enemies of the past wanted him dead. Many years back DJ had left that life, swearing never to go back. Never to set foot again in the villages where he and Maria—and some of their first children—were born! Now Alfredo was there.
They sat on crates in an old barn. The muggy, sticky tropical weather of the coast on their necks. Annoying mosquitoes buzzing in their ears. At least the barn sheltered them from the weather outside. The weather that kept the terrain fresh and rich with vegetation and the mountain populated with colossal trees. The barn was at the foot of the mountain. A mountain blanketed by a thin fog that from the village gave the appearance of a portrait painted with the smeared colors of a dense jungle and banana plantations….