The Bolivian

There was the corpse of a freshly killed dog lying in the middle of the alley behind the bar called Barcelo. The Teacher looked at it without feeling, noticing how the snout was crushed and a piece of the top of its skull was missing. A hand dropped onto the teacher's shoulder, nudging him out of his reverie and urging him forward.
--Adalante.
At the end of the alley, a compact was waiting with the rear door open. The teacher was pushed inside with Charlie right behind him. The men who had led them out of the bar then piled inside. The Teacher's face was mashed up against the window of the car door as six people crammed inside the space meant for five. The lead man took the passengers seat and indicated to the driver to go.
Everyone was silent as the car was driven through the center of town, out towards where the city ended and the desert began. They passed onto a stretch of unpaved road where the streetlights ended and darkness overtook them. The Teacher grimaced as the car bounced wildly over the uneven terrain, causing his head to rhythmically pound the roof of the car. Finally they stopped.
--Listo. The lead man said. The doors were opened and Charlie and the Teacher were helped out of the the car and led by the arm into a low, cinder block building. Inside was darker then out and Charlie banged his knee on an unseen object.
--Gah! Can somebody just turn on some lights, for God's sake?
Instantly, a bare bulb in the center of the room flickered to life.
--I apologize. Please take a sit. The lead man indicated two folding chairs against the wall.
--Seat. The Teacher corrected.
--Qué cosa?
The Teacher just shook his head and dropped heavily into one of the chairs. Charlie sat next to him and looked around. The room was typical of Calama; cement walls, tiles floors. There was a stack of boxes to one side, and other than the the chairs they were sitting in, the room was devoid of furniture. The men arrayed themselves around the room, leaning against the walls or standing with their arms crossed and starring at the at the gringos. The lead man pulled a box into the middle of the room and sat down. He put out his hands, palms up, to show that they were empty.
--We are friends, yes? Amigos?
--What? You just drug us out of the bar and brought us to the middle of nowhere. What do you mean we are friends? Charlie cried with indignation.
--Talking about the middle of nowhere in Calama is being redundant. The Teacher muttered.
The lead man shook his head.
--No, no, quiero decir podemos ser amigos, cierto? I mean, we can be friends.
The Teacher shrugged.
--Whatever you say.
The lead man clapped.
--Good. I no can tell my name, but still we are friends.
The Teacher looked around at the other men, studying their faces, and then turned back to the lead man.
--You're not Chilean, are you?
The lead man raised an eyebrow. A slight smile showed at the corner of his lips.
--Por qué dices eso? Why do you say that?
--Because I can understand your Spanish.
The man burst into hearty laughter. He looked at his companions, wagging his finger.
--Es la verdad. Sí. Yes. Oh, my friend.
He continued to laugh for another moment, and then abruptly stopped.
--I am from Bolivia, this is why.
The Teacher nodded.
--Well, you don't look like a boliviano.
--Gracias. Bueno, miren. Thank you. Okay then, take a look.
He stood and waved the Teacher and Charlie over to look at the boxes. The two men rose slowly and walked over to see. The Bolivian pulled open one of the boxes and pointed at the contents.
--No puedo leer Inglés, por eso he traído ustedes acá. I can't read English, which is why I have brought you here.
The Teacher peered inside the box and frowned. He then stepped aside and let Charlie have a look. Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion.
--What am I looking at here?
--That label says 'semtex'. I think you're looking at plastic explosives.
--Ah hell.
Charlie backed away from the box. He held up his hands.
--No quiero nada que ver con esto! I don't want anything to do with this!
One of the men moved to block the door.
--Calm down, Charlie. The Teacher said. He then turned to face the Bolivian.
--Well, what exactly do you want from us?
The Bolivian reached his hand into the box and pulled out a rectangle of explosive. He pointed to the label that was attached to the cellophane wrapper.
--Traduces esto. Cada una palabra. Translate this. Every word.
The Teacher pointed with with his thumb to Charlie.
--He knows Spanish better.
Charlie shook his head and opened his mouth to protest but the Teacher signaled with eyes and quieted him. Charlie closed his mouth and simply nodded. The Bolivian smiled and motioned to one of the other men, who reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook. He laid opened the notebook and handed it to Charlie. The Bolivian pointed to the chairs.
--Por favor, seat.
--Sit. The Teacher muttered under his breath.
The Bolivian began talking to his companions in rapid Spanish, and it became clear that they were trying to find a pen. While the others were thus busied, the Teacher reached into his pocket and pulled out his gloves. He slowly pulled them on while starring at the man who was in front of the door.
--Te conozco. I know you.
The man pulled a hand out of his pocket and pointed at his chest.
--Yo?
--Sí. Tu hija fue mi alumna. Your daughter was my student.
The man became visibly upset and moved to speak to the Bolivian. Just then, the Teacher thrust his hand upward and grasped the light bulb above in his hand. He clenched his fist, shattering the bulb with a sharp crack. The room went pitch black.
Someone yelled and there were sounds of a struggle. Then came a blood curdling scream.
Suddenly, pale bluish light swam into the room as the front door was kicked open.

Outside, the Teacher emerged hauling Charlie behind him by the arm.
--What the hell! Charlie gasped.
The Teacher let go of him and ran over to the car. Charlie could now see the knife in the Teacher's hand as he proceeded to slash out the tires.
--What's going on man? What happened?
The Teacher turned to him and pointed towards the lights of town.
--Just run, Charlie.
Without another second's hesitation, Charlie took off at a sprint down the street towards the warm orange glow of the city's edge. The Teacher turned and ran in the opposite direction, further into the darkness, further into the desert.