Havana

Chapter 33

He lay naked in thornbushes. Every bit of him hurt. His heart would not stop hammering. It was now dark. His mind was still scattered. He was in jungle. He had run naked through jungle for what seemed hours. He had no idea what to do. He yearned for guidance and courage, but none came.

And then a lot came.

He had a moment of perfect clarity. It all fell together: the government had tracked him here. Those were members of the Secret Police. They had come to kill him, so that El Presidente could sleep without fear of his throat being cut in the night.

At last he knew what to do, and what came next, and where his destiny lay. It was not in strikes or speeches or elections.

I shall, he thought, now make a war.