—And then the U.S. air-bombed them and it was over, Don Chan said.

Don Chan walked over to the garden. Miraluz and Santo walked after him. He looked at the size of it and was proud to see how it was flourishing. The sections were delineated by the size of each family. The fruits that were not eaten were sold and the money distributed among them. For seven months, the people of Los Llanos had lived harmoniously. Slowly, they were learning to trust each other, planning to set up cooperative schools, medical facilities, and a recreation center.

—We’ll organize to bring Juan Bosch back into office. He can change the laws to protect us, Don Chan said.

—Nobody follows the law in this country, Santo said. —The law changes with the desires of the rich. The military acts as if the constitution doesn’t exist.

—I say let’s cage all of those people who make up the military, the politicians, and the rich—just like they did our ancestors—and then burn them alive. Maybe then they will let us live our lives in peace, Miraluz said.

—Are you serious? Santo was surprised by her aggression. But something had her worked up.

—Violence isn’t necessary. If we kill, we’re the same as the people we criticize. We can win by teaching the people and using the constitution, said Don Chan.

—And you think the military, Balaguer, and all the men who make money from the government, will allow for a fair reelection? Please, Don Chan, Miraluz said, rolling her eyes. —For someone so wise, it’s crazy to think any government will look after the best interests of the people over their wallets. When in history have we seen people like us win their freedom without some bloodshed?

—Papá, it’s true. They’re already coming after us. Two of the Invisible Ones have disappeared for three days. Their wives are worried.

—You want us to wait here defenseless while they capture and torture each and every one of us, chop off our heads, and put them on a twenty-foot pole as an example? Miraluz’s fists were clenched.

—Who would do that? Santo was disgusted.

—People don’t do that anymore, Don Chan said with a sigh.

—If you get in their way, they will. Miraluz’s face was lined with beads of sweat. —Explain to me why I don’t sleep at night and can think of nothing else but ripping the tongues out of men who lie and cheat and steal, and rape. I’ll make a necklace of tongues to wear around my neck, with every one of them.

Her voice cracked. She was out of breath. Words pumping out from within her belly. She was so angry and tired and didn’t care if they thought she was crazy. She was tired of staying up at night listening to the cries of the dead of Los Llanos murmuring the stories of how they fought the Americans for seven years to keep their freedom and land. The men of Los Llanos had been caged like animals, taken away from their wives and children, to ensure that no one in Los Llanos dared to fight the government ever again. Forty-two years later, the dead were still pushing up against the earth in protest.